#when he's tired he might also curl up on your tummy like a heating pad

[puff-mmd]

will you give him treats (sourpatch kids) and headpats in return you will receive soft baps with his paw sleeves

(outfit meme by Potari_vt on twitter)

[turningtummyrubs]

LOVE the last piece you wrote on Ryek and Ark, thank you! I have an idea, please feel free to decline, but one day, Ryek is compromised during a mission because of another bad stomachache (boy he sure gets a lot of those!) and is in serious danger, but then Ark comes to his rescue! Ark disposes of the bad guy and then takes care of poor, sick Ryek. 🤤

Hehe, I love this prompt! Time to torture Ryek some more the poor bb

(Also sorry for the laaaate reply)

———

Ryek ducks and rolls swiftly out of the way as the tinkling crystals of the chandelier come crashing down like a shower of icicles. He presses himself to the floor behind a tall marble pillar, chest heaving with exertion as his eyes track Target 162, a short woman with a halo of dark hair and fierce eyes. Tami Braysben would’ve been a challenge any day, but with his stomach aching as it’s been for the past hour at least, Ryek has to admit that completing this mission is near impossible.

Tami looks around the grand room, at the ripped oil paintings on the walls and the mess of chandelier glass shimmering on the floor, before promptly turning and heading up the swirling spiral of stairs leading up to the second floor. Ryek has no idea what she might want; all he knows is that he’s supposed to bring her back to headquarters. He groans and flips over onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes as his stomach squeezes with another cramp. He can feel glass dust pricking his back through his expensive dress shirt. He’s certain it’s stained with blood by this point.

Ryek tells himself to rise. Tells himself to follow Tami and do as he’s told and bring her back in, but even the thought of standing leaves him nauseous. In the heat of the moment, the pain in his abdomen had been an afterthought, but now, feverish cheek pressed to the cold marble floor, it’s impossible to overlook. It twists and churns with a queasy fervor, gurgling sickly every so often as something strains at his insides.

A low moan scrapes at his throat as he miserably curls onto his side, wrapping an arm around his stomach as something tightens with a sharp intensity. His vision has begun to go blurry, only the most vibrant of colors standing out. The blood red of the drapes, the turquoise strips of painted canvas torn up on the floor, one of Tami’s bright yellow heels dangling off the banister of the stairs. 

Realistically, the pain in his stomach shouldn’t be enough to render him so... useless, especially not with the amount of training he’s had, but something’s been off with him all week. For one, he hasn’t had a true conversation with anyone in ten days. Then there’s also the fact that as winter draws near, his giant house only grows colder and lonelier. He hasn’t slept properly in ages and he longs for human contact and the anniversary of his grandmother’s death passed only a few days ago and—

Things just haven’t been great for Ryek lately, and he knows if this stomach ache hadn’t come along, something else would’ve toppled him off the thin line he’s been walking. 

He curls his knees up and lets his tired eyes fall shut, sweat blazing at his temples as he resigns himself to potential death at the hands of Target 162.

Ryek is unsure how long he lies there. It feels like a day but, logically, it was probably around six minutes. That is, until he feels the cool press of a callused palm against his hot cheek. He would’ve recoiled in fear or confusion if it hadn’t been for the immediate cinnamon and ash smell accompanied by the touch. Ark.

He musters up everything he has and forces his eyes open, pulling his face away from Ark’s questioning hand. Ark’s staring at him, eyes dark with worry and face open in a way it usually wouldn’t be. Ryek suspects the manic flush to his cheeks and the delirious haze clouding his eyes has probably lowered Ark’s guard, and rightfully so. How is he even here right now?

As if Ark heard his unspoken question, he murmurs, “HQ sent me. Apparently, you weren’t answering your comms.” His eyes rake over Ryek’s shuddering body. “Are you injured?”

Ryek shakes his head, looks down at himself as if to check, then shakes his head again. Ark crouches down beside him and returns his hand to Ryek’s cheek, thumb brushing lightly over his fevered cheekbone.

“Jus’ don’t feel good...” Ryek whispers dazedly, eyes slipping shut again as he instinctively leans into Ark’s touch.

Ark’s voice sounds full of worry as he says, “You don’t look good either, Marriano.” He pulls his hand away and Ryek is startled at the way his eyes sting immediately at the loss of contact. He’s even more touch-starved than he’d thought. The miserable feeling only grows as his tummy clenches and a piercing grumble gurgles up from his gut. “Look, I’ll take care of 162, and then I’ll come right back, okay?”

No, Ryek thinks. Stay. “Okay.”

Ryek shrinks into a ball and tries to block out the sound of Ark’s fading footsteps. True to his word, at least, Ark returns quickly. Ryek can hear muffled screaming noises, probably from Tami, before she’s thrust out the door and supposedly handed off to another member. Ryek strains to hear Ark’s murmured conversation with what sounds to be one of the lower-grade captors.

“Said he’s not feeling well... worse than I’ve ever seen him... I know... yeah...”

Ryek can’t help but scowl. He truly must look as pitiful and pathetic as he feels. Even so, he can’t help it. He feels like he’s been run over with a burning garbage truck. His hand presses miserably into his tummy as his breaths grow labored.

Ark returns to his side after a couple of minutes and, before Ryek can say anything, scoops him up into his arms as if he weighs no more than a doll. Ryek knows he’s not that light—looming at well over six feet and roped with muscle, but Ark seems to be completely unaffected. Ryek will admit that the feeling is nice, of being able to turn your face into the soft fabric of someone’s shirt and feel safe. To be surrounded on all sides by warmth and hear the steady thrum of a heartbeat pounding in your ears like a comforting song.

He vaguely takes in the change in scenery as Ark lowers him into the passenger’s seat of his car. Ryek already misses the warmth of his arms. He swallows as his stomach lurches when they begin driving. He muffles a small whimper as everything tilts and swirls and further stirs up the sickness already roiling in his tummy. He feels a heavy hand grasp his shoulder for a brief moment before the comforting heat is gone again.

“Steady now, buddy,” Ark murmurs, and Ryek thinks he can feel the car speed up. If he focuses he can see the blurred whiz of a stop sign and a smear of trees.

It feels like only moments before they’re parked outside Ark’s house—tall, looming brick with white trim. There are flowers on his windowsill. “There are flowers on your windowsill.”

Ark blinks, looking up at the petunias as he helps Ryek out of the car. “Er, yeah.”

Ryek just shakes his head, unable to formulate a proper sentence. Gravel crunches beneath his feet as he slowly makes his way into Ark’s house. The moment Ark’s arm leaves his shoulders, he promptly collapses in the foyer.

“Marriano!” Ark exclaims, looking alarmed. He scoops Ryek back up in his arms and Ryek resists the urge to nuzzle into his shoulder and fall asleep. Instead, he scowls and pretends to be annoyed. “Do I need to bring you to a doctor or something?”

Ryek shakes his head vigorously, expression souring further. “Don’t even think about it,” he says, or wheezes more like it.

He can practically feel Ark frown, but he doesn’t object. Ryek whimpers softly as he’s set down in a cold bed and immediately regrets it as he hears Ark’s low chuckle. A cool hand smooths over his forehead, pushing back his hair, before Ark murmurs, “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Ryek doesn’t have time to protest before he’s gone, footsteps padding softly down the hall. Ryek turns onto his side, knees curling up slightly as he feels something shift weird in his stomach, gurgling low and unsettled.

He slips a hand beneath his shirt, kneading slowly, and his breath hitches as a wave of hot pain coarses through every vein in his body. God. He turns restlessly onto his back, chest heaving as he throws an arm over his eyes and moans quietly with pain.

“Shit,” he hears Ark say when he returns a moment later. Ryek hears the sound of something being set down and a quiet clinking before the mattress shifts and Ark rubs his shoulder.

Ark eases him up into a sitting position and softly says, “Drink some of this.” A warm mug is pressed into Ryek’s hands and he blindly complies, some of the tensed muscles coiled in his abdomen relaxing at the hot tea. A few cramps still linger in his stomach though, twisting and seizing every few moments with renewed pain.

Once Ryek’s finished with the tea, Ark takes the mug and says, “Lie down.” Ryek lies back down again, eyes hazy with fever, and relaxes as he feels Ark’s broad hand smooth over his abdomen. His palm palpates gently at the strained churning in his guts, working away the cramps with warm heat.

They lapse into comfortable silence as Ark rubs Ryek’s stomach, and the last thing Ryek hears before he falls asleep is, “If you ever make me worry like that again, I’ll stab you in your sleep.”

[mikkomacko]

OK SO I HAD THIS SAH THOUGHT TODAY AND LORDY I NEEDED TO SHARE IT IF YOU WANTED TO WRITE A BLURB FOR IT CAUSE WOWZA - so maybe after a big win or something h and wifey and friends all decide to celebrate and when they’re about to leave h sees her in a short dress (or whatever, he’s just feeling really cocky so literally anything she wore would turn him on) and try’s to convince her to stay home but she’s like no all your friends are expecting us so they go but he’s attached to her hip (1/2)

(2/2) the entire time and keeps whispering things about what he’s going to do when they get home and at one point he just whispers “daddy needs mommy” or somethiNG LIKE THAT AND WHY DO I PUT MYSELF IN THESE SITUATIONS WOW

(SAH Harry and y/n smutty)

~

"S'not a big big deal darling."

The snort that leaves y/n's throat makes Harry sigh, and the roll of her eyes has him pouting. "You just won district finals Harry, it's a huge deal."

She turns away from the mirror, the skirt of her dress blowing up around her thighs from spinning on her heel, and Harry groans at the sight of her, his bones seeming to ache for her. She's beautiful. She's so beautiful and tonight she'll be with him, she'll be on his arm. She could be on something else of mine, thinks Harry and a little smirk tugs at his lips. He fights it, exaggerating his pout and hunching his shoulders forward as she tip toes towards him.

"I've got something else that's a huge deal right now too."

She giggles at the whine in his voice, eyes twinkling with amusement and Harry knows she sees right through his boyish act. Still, he lets her stand between his thighs in her pretty pink dress, and brush her fingers over his stubbley cheeks. "Yeah, and what's that?"

Harry blinks up at her, letting out a little huff of air that might hint at him being upset. "My cock," he mururms innocently.

Y/n laughs, that cute laugh that shakes her shoulders and scrunches her nose. The laugh that she passed on to Arlo.

"Harry we don't have time for you to be getting boners."

He quickly wraps his arms around her waist before she can tug away, whining loudly as he presses his face into her soft tummy.

"Please?" He presses a hot kiss over the fabric of her dress. "Want to feel it. Want you to feel me all the way in your belly," His hands squeeze her hips tightly. "stretch ya so deep you can't even walk tomorrow. Fuck your-"

"Harry stop!"

He frowns at her decline, tilting his chin up to meet her amused gaze. "Don't wanna stop."

"All of your friends and colleagues are waiting for you at the restaurant and we are not keeping them waiting because you're so full of yourself."

He grunts like a child, huffing and puffing to calm his racing heart and tingling veins as y/n tugs him to his feet. She straightens out his coat and combs his hair out of his face, ignoring his pleading face as she kisses the corner of his mouth. "Don't pout," she instructs, poking her finger into his cheeks and pulling them into a grin. "we'll just eat dinner and thank everyone, and then I promise you can fuck me as deep and as long as you want."

~

Nick and Liam picked the fanciest fucking restaurant in the whole city. Normally, Harry would appreciate that they cared enough about him to pick this place. But he's been hiding his stiffy with his napkin for over an hour and this restaurant is too nice for that. It's also too nice (and too packed) for Harry to have his left hand up his wife's dress but he doesn't stop. Because he can't stop thinking of the way his dick had pulsed at the house when she promised him a good fuck. And technically they've eaten dinner already, and he has thanked the whole group of people that came to celebrate. So he isn't doing anything wrong, even if y/n's nails are digging into his arm warningly. He's just trying to take care of her.

"From the first time I saw Harry, I knew that fucker could fight. Quick and tough you are." Nick smiles proudly at Harry from across the table, sipping his wine. Harry shrugs, wishing he could remember what they were discussing that prompted a compliment but his brain is mushy with the softness of y/n's thigh on his fingertips.

Liam picks up the conversation, him and Nick launching into a story of one of Harry's first training sessions, and Harry's grateful because it gives him the chance to lean into y/n. His knee pushes into hers, pining her thighs shut around his hand as he presses a wet kiss under her ear.

"M'ready to go home darling."

Her nails dig a little further into his skin, enough to make little stings run up his veins. He pinches her thigh in retaliation, smirking when her fingers immediately loosen.

"Don't play games with me, s'my night after all."

She turns him, lips brushing and bats her eyelashes. To any outsider, it'd appear they're just happily fawning over each other. His smirk grows, pushing his fingers higher so he can feel the edge of cotton panties.

"I'm not playing games, I'm just trying to be decent, ya animal."

Harry presses his lips to hers, swallowing the squeak she lets out when he slips two fingers under her underwear and attaches the pads of them to her clit.

"Harry-"

"Let's go home darling." He circles his fingers, dick twitching pathetically when her thighs clench. "Please? Just let me make us feel good."

She's brought her hands up to his neck, fingers burying in his hair and taking out her frustration there by discretely tugging.

"Need to feel ya," he pries one of her hands free, stroking his thumb over the back before bringing it down to his lap under the table. "Daddy needs mumma, please darling."

She strokes her thumb over his hardness, tracing the outline of him and paying extra attention to the head of him. His toes curl in his shoes, fingers momentarily pausing as he soaks in the feeling of her rubbing his tip so tenderly.

Knowing they've been pressed together for too long, y/n pecks his mouth once more and untangles her hands from his hair. Harry grins as she fakes a yawn, nestling her cheek against the bicep that's still subtly flexing under his button-up with the movement of his fingers. She wraps a hand around his forearm, adjusting the other so it appears she's still just holding his hand and not cupping the tent in his trousers.

"Getting tired darling?" Harry asks innocently, loud enough for the group to hear. At his words Nick, Liam, and the two trainers Harry works with all turn to them. Her fingers squeeze his arm as she realizes Harry's getting her off with all of them watching.

"Too much excitement tonight, eh?" Liam grins softly at y/n. Harry feels her nod against his arm. "Cheered ya head off for this one."

Nick laughs in agreement as Liam gestures to Harry, and Harry's insides seem to inflate. Y/n cheering for him, being proud of him, celebrating him, taking his fingers so fucking good under the table all his friends are eating dessert at. God he loves her.

"Maybe I should take ya home then?" Harry murmurs sweetly, kissing the top of her head and slowing his fingers to soft strokes around her sensitive button. "Pamper ya after all this rooting ya did instead of making ya sit here with this lot, huh?"

She nods, humming her agreement. The lads all chuckle fondly at how placid she's gotten, thinking it's sleepiness and not the wetness between her legs.

"Alright then," Harry swiftly removes his hand from her panties, squeezing her knee softly. She does the same to him, giving him a chance to secretly rearrange the bulge in his pants. "better get going 'fore I'm carrying this one home."

He pushes his chair back, rising from the seat and turning to help y/n up. She takes his free hand, meeting his gaze just as he rubs the two fingers that had been between her legs over his lips. She falters, stumbling into Harry with dark, glossy eyes on his lips as his tongue darts out to lick over them.

"Ready darling?" He asks, lifting his eyebrows suggestively and he knows by the tint in her cheeks that she's remembering the words she'd said to him before they left the house. Almost challengingly, he cups her chin in that same hand, two fingers dangerously close to her pink lips. He feels her throat bob as she swallows, and then she's nodding once, softly kissing the fingers next to her lips. Harry's cock throbs, chest shuddering because she's giving him permission to do whatever he wants. By the pout of her lips, it looks like she's even begging for it, begging for him to fuck her like he wanted to earlier, and Harry might forget to say good-bye to everyone before he's ushering her out of the restaurant and into the car.

~

His whole body is hot, heart thumping loudly in his naked chest. Y/n is combing her fingers through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp and thighs clenching under his strong hold. Though she's only covering about a fourth of his body, she's everywhere. Her skin under his fingers, her scent lodged in his nose, her body arched above him, her juices on his tongue, and the soft pants of his name reaching his ears despite her legs straddling his head.

He slips his hand further down her thigh, fingers stroking over the swollen bud his nose had previously been bumping. Y/n gasps, hips rolling over his chin and lips, sinking his tongue deeper into her wet heat. His eyes flash open, grunting gruffly at the sight of her.

The hand tangled in his hair blocks his view a bit, but not enough to stop him from seeing her naked chest heavy with gasps or her lips forming his name or the way her eyes keep fluttering. He can't bring himself to remove his mouth from between her thighs so he drops his other hand to her bum, urging her to keep rolling her hips over his tongue like that. She meets his gaze, eyes wet and needy as she gets the message and follows his guidance. Harry, overwhelmed with ecstacy for her, can't stop his hips from jutting up into nothing. A moan catches in his throat, hard cock bouncing on his abdomen. A choked gasps leaves her mouth and before Harry can stop her, she's releasing his hair and reaching behind her for his dick.

Harry whimpers at the feeling of her warm digits wrapping around the head of him. She rolls her hips back, ghosting her hand to the base him and bringing it back up with her hips. Desperately, Harry swaps his tongue and fingers. His ring and middle finger fit between her soaked lips easily, sinking nuckle deep before stopping to stroke the sensitive walls. Tongue first, his mouth latches over her clit with soft suckles and furious flicks of his tongue.

Y/n seems to go hazy above him, shoulders slumping as she moans into the sticky air. Her hand falters on his cock but he doesn't care. He just wants her to come on his tongue, just once, before he fucks her.

Harry pumps his fingers in and out, sinking in a little deeper each time until she's riding his face and twitching on top of him. Her walls tremble around his finger and he knows she's going to come so he forces his eyes open to watch her. He nibbles on her clit, just enough to get a breathy "Harry!" out of her lips as she pulses around his fingers and soaks his chin. Almost animalistic Harry grunts, cock twitching for attention next to her hand that's digging into his thigh.

"O-ok Harry," y/n whimpers, dropping her hand from the headboard to his hair. Harry slips his fingers out of her, immediately catching them in his mouth for a quick cleaning. Y/n squeaks when he pushes his tongue into her pussy, licking up the remainder of her orgasm.

"Harry, please."

He wants to stay between her thighs, tongue making her come over and over again but his dick is painfully hard. Reluctantly, Harry delivers one more peck to her clit and pats her thigh, sucking in a disgustingly fresh breath of air when she falls onto the bed next to him.

"You're a fucking fever dream."

Lazily, Harry lulls his head in reaction to her words. She's laying on her side, watching him with dreamy eyes and flushed cheeks.

"You're one to talk." Harry rolls towards her, moving her with him until her back meets the mattress and he's got her caged under his body. She giggles, left arm coming to rest on his shoulder.

"You're a mess," she wipes at his chin with her other hand, holding her palm in front of his face. "a beautiful mess." Harry smirks, eyes flickering over the slick she'd wiped off his face. He drags the thick of his tongue over her palm, chuckling when she immediately shakes her hand and slaps it to the rumpled sheets beneath them.

"You made a mess," Harry retorts, leaning down to catch her lips. "a beautiful, delicious mess darling." She chuckles bashfully, this time leaning up to kiss him. The fingers that had previously been lying on the sheets come up to his side, ghosting over his hip and the small of his back. He dips his tongue between her lips, grinding his cock over her lower tummy. She gives his tongue a gentle prodding before pulling back with a small smacking noise.

"Condom?" She rubs his side affectionately. "Before you go making a mess all over my belly?"

Harry chuckles, kissing her lips and then her cheek and then her jaw. "Mm the belly I put a baby in?" He reaches over to the nightstand, face still tucked into her neck. "The belly I'm gonna stuff full with my cock again?"

Y/n shivers, hands tensing around his skin. He offers a few more sensual pecks to her sweaty neck, managing to dig out a condom. He pulls back just enough to get the condom open and over his cock, goosebumps rising on his flesh when he drags his hand over himself.

"Hate using a rubber," Harry mutters mostly to himself. "s'not right, letting me feel ya bare and then shoving me back into a bloody condom."

Y/n chuckles, slinging a leg over his hip as he guides himself to her entrance. "Unless you feel like being the real life Cheaper By The Dozen we're keeping the condoms bub."

Harry shrugs, pushing just the head of him beween her legs. "Wouldn't mind baby, 'specially with how fucking horny you get when you're pregnant."

Something like a scoffs sounds in her throat but it's cut off with a deep groan when Harry thrusts all the way into her heat. His toes curl, chest shuddering from the way she squeezes him. As if it were instinct her other leg finds it's way around his hip, pulling him even deeper.

"Fuckin' shit-" Harry grunts, pulling back and ramming forward again. Y/n whines, hands gaining purchase on his shoulders. He presses himself tighter to her, lips attaching to her neck. His hips are relentless, not giving her even a breath of air before they're fucking into her over and over.

"Oh," she strokes over his shoulder lovingly. "fuck Harry."

He groans into her hot skin, using her encouragements as leverage to rut into her harder. The headboard above them thumps into the wall but they ignore it. There's no one here to be considerate of besides them.

Harry lifts his torso enough to slip a hand between them, pressing his palm into her tummy. He rams his cock into her dripping walls, whining pathetically when he feels the head of him under his hand.

"Tha's it, got it right where we want it yeah?" Y/n nods at his words, biting her lip to try and keep her moans at bay. "Nice and deep in your belly."

"So deep Harry,"

Her voice is tight and wrecked, shivering through his body and making him jump forward harder. She gasps, back arching, and Harry can't help but continue that rough thrust.

"Doing so good for daddy," he praises her, pecking her cheek. "just need ya to come on me. Show me how good you are for me darling."

Her limbs tighten around him, swollen lips latching onto his with such fever and need Harry's bones feel like jelly. He meets her kiss with matched urgency, body thrumming as her hot walls clamp around his cock. Y/n trembles and shakes around him, lips falling slack with moans that Harry swallows eagerly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Y/n pets at his hair, and rubs her hand up and down his back as he comes heavily. She mururms praises into the shell of his ear, clinging to him as she shakes and heaves above her.

"You're so good Harry."

He chuckles tiredly, pecking her cheek. "Hafta be good for ya. How else would I keep such a sweet little thing?"

She giggles, flattered yet shy, and continues to rub over his muscles tenderly. Harry settles himself on top of her, head resting on her shoulder.

"Harry?"

He let's out a questioning grunt.

"You gonna fall asleep with your cock in me?"

"I could if ya hadn't made me wear a fucking condom."

She tugs on his hair. "I'm not having the condom fight with you again Harry."

"M'still gonna cry about it and you're still gonna listen because you love me and I won district finals."

"I do love you."

"I know."