#AM GASPING CHOKING SCREECHING INTO MY PILLOW KICKING MY LEGS AS I READ N REPLY 2 DIS AMG-

[nulltune]

❛  ah, well ... would you look at that. ❜ he'd like to pretend this wasn't in his agenda the moment in which he invited to help walk her home, but even nicola cannot hide the knowing smile in which spreads across his features the moment in which his gaze lands upon the plant that has rested upon his mind all evening. the mistletoe stands particularly striking against the warmth of the café behind it, various patrons and workers rather distracted with their own lives to take note of the falzone's second in command cheerfully guiding the woman by his side with the firm grip of his hand to where it lay exposed for all to see. ❛  you know, i was starting to believe there was some sort of shortage. after dante had insisted we didn't buy any and the streets had looked rather sparse of their stock, it was beginning to appear rather dire for the future of any mistletoe related mishaps for the rest of my life ... ❜

it's a fraction of silence before the blonde inches a little closer, a glance spared towards the still busy crowd until it's drawn back towards the surprise of her gaze in turn. it's a unique one, truly, to be spared privy on it and even that in itself causes him to pause for another second, far too amused to simply stop and stare at her expression without a push into worrying too much. truthfully, a part of him would wish for everyone else to not have an opportunity to see it, but he knows better than to wish that, truly more amused at the idea of showing them who caused it in the first place. a juxtaposition to the gentleness in which he wraps an arm around her waist. ❛  so it's pretty fair if i request to indulge in such a thing for a moment, am i right? ❜

when only met with silence, the young second in command leans down to press a kiss to his companions lips, fingers curling ever so gently against her brown locks with an understanding ease, it's clear hes smiling, a little giddy with her lips pressed to his own and it sticks even once he pulls away, a truly pleased expression for a man who might be tempted to push for it again, enamoured with the sensation despite it still being new for them both all the same. / nicollaa <333

unprompted,  always accepting !   @dangaer  ♡

to celebrate the holidays like this was a first for kishinami hakuno.  hardly anything noteworthy to recall from the previous years  /  those bleak and empty years all blurring together,  there was no reason to celebrate the festivities when there was no one to celebrate it with.  such a solitary existence,  not knowing of any familial ties nor having any meaningful bonds with anyone,  she was bound to be alone.

this year was different,  however,  because he is here. 

to make the acquaintance of the underboss of the faizone would be a fearsome thought to most,  and hakuno couldn't say that she was without her own concerns  —  hard to comprehend nicola francesca,  the charismatic man with the perfect  /  crafted smile,  but the time they've spent together was always enjoyable.  today,  too.  walking together,  sightseeing together,  eating together.  such mundane things became something so precious,  and the hours slipped away before she knew it.  a view of the moon overhead tugs the corners of her lips downwards ever - so - slightly,  its presence a reminder that it's getting late,  and that they'd be going their separate ways soon.

so the offer to walk her home was a pleasant surprise,  though not one she could accept so easily.       ❛   you don't have to.   ❜       courteous,  yet perhaps a bit too blunt in its wording.  aware that the routes to their respective destinations diverged at this point,  it would be a hassle to have him go out of his way like that,  and for what ?   though she couldn't deny a ...  curious feeling at the offer,  even moreso when her response was met with insistance on ensuring her safe travel back.  hakuno still didn't think such a thing was necessary,  but if it could give him some peace of mind then ...  she supposed there was no reason to refuse.      ❛   then,  sorry for the trouble.   ❜       she ought to be more apologetic when saying this,  she realized that in the back of her mind,  but truthfully,  she hadn't been exactly keen on turning him down in the first place. 

it was selfish of her,  she realized,  but she wanted cherish this—  his kindness,  and the opportunity to be with him for just a little while longer.

leaving behind the chatter from the café,  click of her heels come to a halt in line with his own footsteps,  followed with a slow blink when realizing that they'd themselves under a certain plant.  having no particular feelings on tradition herself,  she was more curious to see how nicola would react,  though his response ended up taking her aback.  ( it doesn't show on her face,  however,  and hakuno recovers rather swiftly )       ❛   saying it like that makes it sound like you were hoping for something to happen ...   ❜       an observation,  mostly,  but there's the barest teasing lilt to silvery voice as she muses this.  peering at him from the corner of caramel eyes,  they widen slightly at the knowing look on his face.

what a surprise.  the words had been a jest,  and she hadn't expected for it to carry any hint of truth in it.  did he really want to ... ?   the blatant inquiry made it abundantly clear,  but such a thing was still hard to believe.       ❛   e - eh .. ?   ❜       the sound comes out as a small squeak,  barely audible,  but leaving lips parted in a small gape afterwards.  when his gaze turned to the distant crowd to ensure privacy for the two,  she found her eyes unable to leave him,  cheeks warm despite the chilly breeze that swept past them.  stunned at the thumping in her chest as her vision remained on him,  a hand would place itself over the area,  as if to verify the actions of that organ.  her heart really was racing,  and—  ah,  irony.  she knew just what it was a mistletoe implied,  but wouldn't dare to ask,  never one to indulge in her own wants or needs.  if he were to ask,  however,  then it'd be acceptable  —  because hakuno is a giver,  dutifully fulfilling that which was asked of her.

though a request of a kiss is ...  much too personal.  as generous as kishinami hakuno is,  such requests were ones she'd typically reject,  for she is quite the romantic deep down,  holding the belief that such intimate acts should be reserved for someone special.

—so maybe that's why ...  the thoughts trail off at the feel of his hand on her waist,  and she is still without the proper words to say,  but actions would speak volumes where speech failed.  dark lashes fluttering close,  head cranes upwards to accept the kiss.  there's a gleeful skip of her heart when their lips met at last,  a soft hum sounding from the back of her throat.  every touch,  every feeling brought on from this moment is unfamiliar,  but it is far from unpleasant.  the smile on his lips is felt  —  cute  —  and while her inexpressive self can't so easily mimic it,  the sentiment behind it is reciprocated with a subtle shift to deepen the kiss. 

there's another sound as he pulls away,  a small whine.  head canting with a sigh,  brown locks spill over small shoulders,  stray strands obscuring full view of flushed cheeks.  rosy lips remain slightly pursed,  pouting a little,  a faint disappointment over wanting it to last longer.  a feeling that melts away easily at the sight of his pleased face.

... he's much prettier up close,  she notes idly.  having someone,  having him,  in such close proximity was yet another new experience for the maiden who was usually so distant,  viewed as a flower blooming on a high peak  /  someone so out of reach.  it surprises even herself when she finds her arms wrapped around his form,  an action to keep the two of them remaining close like this.

dainty hand tentatively reaches out to carress the side of his face with a delicate touch,  half - lidded eyes peer up at him,  mirth in that gentle gaze.  a moment's indulgence,  is what this may have been,  but it had felt much more intimate than that.  they'd come this far ...  why stop now ?   that smile still hasn't left his face ...  a smile that seemed more genuine than usual,  or was she still in a daze from that kiss ?  ( what a nice sight it is,  though. )  despite giving ample time to,  he doesn't pull nor push her away when her hold tightens.  could she take that as a good sign .. ?

a beat,  and voice comes out as a whisper between what little space lay between them.       ❛   another,  please.   ❜      

#dangaer #&&. message #q. #sCREAAAMS FOR A MILLION YEARSSS BC /AAAAAAAA/ J.UPITER THIS IS SO FRIKKIN CUTE????? #AM GASPING CHOKING SCREECHING INTO MY PILLOW KICKING MY LEGS AS I READ N REPLY 2 DIS AMG- #TYSM 4 DA ASK..!! 😳🥺🥺🫶💖💗💓💕❤️ #i am still clutching my chest over this N.ICOLA AND H.AKUNO CAFÉ DATE HELLO??? 😳😳✨️✨️ it's so perfect 4 her sweet tooth.... #pls let them enjoy all sorts of sweets n treats n drinks 🥹💕 ITS WHAT THEY DESERVE.!! 😤❤️ #alsooo i took some creative liberties here; i hope u don't mind 😳✨️ #HIM WALKING HER HOME IS JST SO FRIKKIN CUTE OKOK 😭💞💓 h.akuno's a binch tho she doesn't care abt herself (f) BUT YES #PLS LOOK OUT FOR HER N.ICOLA... 🥺🥹🙏 #also also the 😐 to 😳 h.akuno pipeline is real and indeed vv rare bUT ALSO SHES SO TERRIBLE WITH HER FEELINGS SO . IM SORRY FOR HER AGFKKDH #AND ALSO SORRY FOR THE WALL OF TEXT SGCKSHFMSLF I HAVE;;; A LOT OF THOUGHTS (i wuv them..... a whole lot... 🥺😭😭✌️✌️💖💖)

[spritewrites]

time travel doesn’t change everything

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: the Hargreeves siblings

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hi everybody! This is a collaborative fic (wow!) that @ticklishhargreeves and I have been working on for a while, based on an idea that we came up with together about three weeks ago. We wanted to incorporate a bunch of the headcanons we’ve come up with recently into a fic. We hope you enjoy!!

Allison’s room could best be described as a bit of a time capsule; posters from the beginning and middle of her career, drawings that she’d made and been gifted as a child, and family photos in the form of newspaper clippings. Going through the drawers and boxes under her bed provided nearly endless entertainment. A small gasp escaped from her grin when she pulled out one specific piece of paper that she’d forgotten about — a somewhat poorly drawn chart that depicted each of the Hargreeves siblings’ most ticklish spots. The tickle fights they’d had as children were sparse, considering they only really had free time for about an hour a week, but damn, were they competitive. This was the cheat sheet that she’d made to always get the upper hand. 

The colored pencil had smudged a bit, but Allison could still make out the faint markings of each of her brothers’ names. She smiled to herself, leaning back on a stack of books to read the chart. They’d been so young then, but she could still hear their laughter echoing down the mansion hallways, as clear as anything. She let out a small laugh at a note in the margin: Ask Mom for acrylic nails before next week.

“Everything okay?” Luther was leaning against her door frame, just a bit bigger than when they were kids, but still with that same kind smile. She smiled back.

“Just reminiscing. Check this out!” She held up the faded piece of paper for him to read.

“No way!” the large figure exclaimed, gently taking the chart from Allison’s hand and sitting on the side of her bed to look at it. “This is from all our —” 

“Tickle fights,” Allison interrupted with a laugh, “yeah. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” an awkward chuckle from Luther masked the slight nervousness he felt reading his name accompanied by the bullet-pointed notes: squeeze his calves, scribbles under toes, tops of feet are weirdly ticklish??, kicks a lot. “God, I haven’t been tickled in… years, probably.”

“You were so cute,” Allison giggled, and Luther wasn’t entirely sure that he liked the look she was giving him. “I wonder if this is still accurate.”

Luther cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, um, no way to know for sure, so-”

She had tackled him to the bed before he even knew what was happening. “Only one way to find out.”

She sat across his knees - “You kick, remember?” - and gave one of his calves a squeeze. Luther bolted upright, gasping.

“Um, I think there’s another way to find out! See, I could just tell you-”

“No,” Allison smiled, squeezing again and enjoying the desperate noise her brother made. “I’ve gotta test it to know for sure.”

He got as far as “Wait, Allison, please-” before he was choking back giggles, trying to worm his way out of Allison’s hold as her long nails skated over his ankles. She grinned.

“Okay, so squeezing your legs still definitely works. How about your feet?”

“No!” Luther cried, burying his face in a pillow and nearly squealing as she traced gentle lines over his soles. Allison giggled at the sound, scribbling over his heels and leaning forward to keep his straining legs from kicking.

“Feet are still pretty bad too. Thank God the serum didn’t affect these, huh?” She skittered her nails around the tops of his feet, and Luther let out a screech into his pillow. It was taking all of his strength to not… well, use his strength. 

“You remember that pedicure I dragged you into, right?” she laughed at the memory, and again at Luther’s quick nod into the pillow.

The screech turned into an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp when Allison held his toes back with one hand, and skittered beneath them with the other. Finally, he’d began to laugh an endearingly childlike giggle. “AH - Allison,” he attempted to catch his breath with a forceful gasp as his massive arms squeezed the pillow to his face, and his legs shook, “Allison!”

Allison laughed at him and his sounds, almost not wanting to stop. “Alright, alright, I don’t want to kill you. Not yet, anyway.” She rolled off his legs to lay next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like your weak spots are still the same!”

Luther groaned, trying to catch his breath through the pillow (he wasn’t confident enough in the color of his face yet to look at her). “That was mean.”

“Hey, I was just consulting the chart!”

“You wrote the chart!”

“And I stand by it,” she teased, giving his leg a poke that made him twitch. She grabbed the paper and left the room, satisfied that her victim was suitably tickled out.

Luther rolled onto his back, panting. “Screw that chart.”

—

As she was leaving the room, Allison couldn’t help but notice the absence of Vanya’s name on the chart. It wasn’t a surprising fact. They never included her in anything as children, not even tickle fights. This fact still broke Allison’s heart, but of course, with the opportunity to make up for lost time, it’d be foolish not to take it… right? 

After spotting her much smaller sister reading on the couch, Allison made her way downstairs and plopped down right next to Vanya with a grin. 

Ever since their trip to the 60s, the sisters certainly developed a strong bond. Allison was, quite possibly. the one sibling that Vanya felt the most comfortable with; Klaus being a close second. Her attention drew away from the book in her hands, and towards her smiling sister. “Hey, Allison.” Vanya smiled, setting her book down, saving her place.

“Hey, um,” Allison subtly hid the chart by her other side, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous glint in her eye, “Vanya, are you ticklish? By any chance?” 

“Uh,” Vanya chuckled, shifting awkwardly with a shrug, “I - I think so. I mean, sometimes Sissy would touch my neck and it would feel kinda funny. Like the back, right here?” She touched the back of her neck to show her scheming sister exactly where she was ticklish. Big mistake.

“Oh,” Allison chuckled, not expecting this to be so easy. She sneakily reached her arm around the back of the couch, “Like, right… here?” 

Vanya twitched, letting out something akin to a squeak as her shoulders jumped up beside her ears. “I think - hey!” Her sister had begun tracing wicked fingers along the crease of her neck, her nails sliding effortlessly between the wrinkles to get at the weakest points. Vanya scrunched like a turtle, reaching back to swat at the offending hands, but the light touch made her limbs turn to jelly and her effort was not very coordinated. The endless stream of bubbly giggles, however, was new. 

Allison’s face lit up. “Looks like you are ticklish.”

Understatement of the century. Vanya opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a squeal when Allison’s tickles wandered down from her neck and over her shoulders, sneaking pokes in under her arms. 

“Where else, I wonder…” Allison mused, and slid her hands down her sister’s sides. Vanya’s spine nearly snapped with how quickly she arched her back, letting out a gasp. “Oh, here?”

“Allison, please!”

“Please what?” She tapped a nail on the curve of Vanya’s waist, prompting a high-pitched giggle. Vanya shook her head, seemingly struck dumb by the overwhelming feeling. Another pinch to her side, and she wriggled, curling in on herself. Unfortunately, this left the back of her neck unguarded, and with a smile, Allison reached to tickle her there. 

Vanya squealed. “Please, I can’t - mercy!”

Allison laughed at her sister’s reactions, easing off to just rub her shoulders. “Okay, so, neck and sides? Those are the big ones?”

The sigh of relief that escaped Vanya was soothing. “I - I guess so. I think?”

“Well, I still have more exploring to do, but I can be merciful for now,” Allison replied with a wink. “I’ll add you to the chart.”

“Chart?”

“Yeah, see?” She pulled out the piece of paper. Vanya’s eyes lit up.

“Oh my God, this is adorable. How old were we when you made this?”

Allison smiled. “I don’t know, ten maybe? We used to have these epic battles…” She trailed off, catching her sister’s eyes. “I’m sorry we didn’t - ”

Vanya held up a hand to silence her. “It’s okay. I’m included now.” She raked her gaze over the paper in her hands. “Luther was ticklish on his feet?”

Allison couldn’t stop her laugh. “Still is, I just tested it.”

“Shit, that’s goddamn… cute. All of these are so cute,” she said with a smile.

“Aren’t they?” Allison replied, snatching the paper once again with a cunning smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some notes to update and some experiments to run.”

—

It seemed like whenever she saw Klaus, he was always talking to some ghost. Usually arguing with them. Sometimes flirting, you never know. The conversation that Allison walked in on today, however, was definitely not flirting.

“Just shut up, you don’t have a goddamn clue… That’s what I said, you never fucking listen to - Allison!”

She paused in the doorframe, amused. “Am I interrupting?”

“What, this?” Klaus gestured vaguely at the armchair across from him. “Nah, nothing important. Just bonding, you know how it is.” He seemed to disconnect from Allison for a second, listening, and then shot a glare at the armchair. “Dickwad.”

Allison clapped her hand over her mouth at the insult, but not quickly enough to stop the laugh that escaped. Whoever it was, they had pissed Klaus off. “Okay, well, I was just going through some of my old stuff, and I found…” She pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper. “This.”

Klaus’ eyebrows furrowed. “Okay… What is that?”

“A chart I made when we were young, to win those fights we used to have.”

“What fights?” Before Allison could answer, her brother’s gaze flicked to the armchair and back to her. “The tickle fights? You made a… what did you say, a chart?”

She nodded. “It’s detailed.”

Klaus laughed. “So organized! Let me see -” He reached up, but she snatched it out of his grasp. 

“Nope, this is valuable information. But, I could let you see… if you participate in the experiment I’m running.”

Rolling green eyes, Klaus scoffed and lifted his arms up, a playful smile on his face as he looked away. He clearly already knew exactly what these so-called experiments were; perhaps Vanya’s laughter from downstairs was a giveaway. 

A smile played on Allison’s lips. She remembered how Klaus never really hated tickles, and acknowledged the note by his name: asks to be tickled all the time, listed alongside others such as SUPER ticklish armpits, tapped his hips once and he squeaked? maybe he’s ticklish there too? Haven’t tried yet. She laughed, launching her tickling fingers towards Klaus’ armpits, only to be stopped by him slamming his arms down at the last second.

“Sorry, sorry. Instinct,” he smiled, already giggling a bit, before lifting his arms again.

All of a sudden, his elbows shot down towards his hips as he choked on his laughter, “B-Ben! No!” Klaus collapsed to the floor within seconds, kicking his legs and screeching.

Allison smiled. Of course, only Ben could rile her brother up like that. Squinting, she smirked, noticing the placement of Klaus’ slapping hands, “Klaus? Ben’s not getting your hips, is he?” 

The silly noises he'd been making between silent laughter was accompanied by a desperate nod, messing up his long hair.

“Good!” Allison exclaimed, a bubbly tone to her voice, before lowering herself to the floor next to her flailing brother. “What a long overdue discovery.” Her pinch to his left hip felt more real than Ben’s spidery ghost tickles, and he squeaked. Her hands moved quickly, though, to lodge themselves under his arms while he was distracted.

The yelp that left Klaus’ mouth was loud enough to make Allison flinch slightly, but her hands stayed put. “Allison,” he whined, squeezing his arms to his sides as he simultaneously tried to roll away from Ben’s way-too-tangible thumbs digging into his hip bones.

She raised her eyebrows curiously as she twitched her fingers ever so slightly, relishing in the squirms and adorable gasps that followed. 

When Allison began to wiggle all ten of her fingers, plus the other ten digits, both on his worst spots, his eyes squeezed shut as his squeaks and laughs rose yet another octave. Curling in on himself, he shook his head, unable to shake either of his ruthless tickle-monster siblings.

“Tickie, tickie, tickle!” Allison cooed as she laughed along with him.

“What's wrong, Klausie? I thought you loved tickie, tickie, tickles.” Ben’s words were snide and Klaus could practically hear his stupid grin.

High-pitched giggles rolled out of his mouth as he grabbed onto a nearby throw pillow. “Stopstopstop, okay! Okay, jeez!” It was obvious that he wasn't that desperate for the tickles to stop; he really just needed a breather. Klaus threw the pillow in an attempt to hit Ben, but it just phased through him. Ben stuck his tongue out. 

“Asshole,” Klaus grumbled at his invisible brother. Allison laughed again, before leaning over to whisper something into Klaus’ ear. A noticeable smile washed over his face as he looked directly at his ghost brother, crawling towards him.

Ben's eyes widened as he stumbled backwards, falling back onto the armchair. His arms flailed, not knowing how to defend himself since it had been such a long time.  “Nonono, Klaus, what did she tell you? – EEP!” His reaction to Klaus’ quick and repetitive pokes to his stomach was immediate. 

The notes on the chart read really squeaky, ribs and stomach (but be careful!!!), starts begging after mere seconds, & very gullible, so easy to tickle. Ben had always been super easy to trick into getting tickled when they were younger; asking him to reach things in high up cabinets, challenging him to keep his arms up, and tons of tickle hugs.

He hadn’t been tickled since before he died, but it was just as unbearable as he remembered. He couldn’t hold back a squeak as Klaus prodded around the soft area just below his ribs, throwing an arm over his face to hide his blush. 

Klaus threw his head back and laughed. “Awww, I forgot that you were so sensitive, Benny! Guess now we know what’ll happen when you make fun of me, hmm?”

Ben wanted more than anything to snap back at his brother, but couldn’t possibly reply around his high-pitched giggle fit, so he settled on a squeal. “Allison! H-help!”

“She can’t hear you,” Klaus cooed, racing his fingertips up Ben’s ribs to elicit another adorable squeak, clearly amused. 

Allison laughed at the image of her brother kneeling on the floor, ruthlessly attacking absolutely nothing. “No, but I can picture it. Remember those physical exams that Grace would give us?” 

Every month, in order to keep them all in tip-top shape for missions, Grace would perform physical examinations. These exams, of course, included lots of pressing and prodding tummies with her cold robot hands, much to Diego and Ben’s dismay. Diego would often need to have a break after ten seconds, but Ben would always just giggle his little heart out, and could never sit still, try as he might.

Klaus giggled too. “Of course, dear little Benjamin could never stand those. Could you, Benerino?” Their brother merely cackled in response, batting helplessly at the tickling fingers. God, if this didn’t end soon, he was going to die again. Could ghosts die again?

“I… neeheed AIR, you asshole!”

“No you don’t,” Klaus replied simply, pinching at the skin right above his belly button. Ben shrieked, flailed, and ended up rolling off the armchair onto the ground. Klaus took it as a cue to stop and sat back, grinning at his work.

“What’s he look like?” Allison asked, not even trying to hide her sadistic smile.

Klaus grinned at the rumpled pile of ghost on the floor, who flipped him off. “Like shit.”

“Fuck off,” Ben replied, but he was smiling. Mission accomplished.

—

Diego frequently sat in his room alone, doing God knows what. The minute that Allison walked in, he was just twirling one of his knives in his hand. Turning around to look at his sister, who had been smiling at a piece of paper, his brows furrowed, “What?” 

Allison couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as she read the notes beside her stoic brother’s name: ticklish EVERYWHERE, pokes make him squirm, sometimes cries at tummy tickles, GET HIS BELLYBUTTON, & make sure he’s not holding anything. She remembered fondly how her and her brothers would always gang up on him and tickle him until he cried. Grace always had to step in to get them to stop. She cleared her throat, and looked over at him, turning the paper around to face him, “Remember this?” 

“Oh, ... yeah, from those - those fights we had when we were kids. Yeah.” Diego placed his knife down on the desk, and moved to stand up, subtly trying to escape what he feared was about to happen. 

“Hm, what kind of fights were those?”

“You - y’know. The -… the wrestling and stuff.” He silently cursed his sister for trying to make him say it; she knew that he absolutely hated the word, both hearing it and saying it… and experiencing it. Diego pretended to nonchalantly pace away in order to exit the room, only to make his way into the corner farthest from the door, where Allison was inconveniently standing. 

“I heard a rumor… that you can’t move until I start tickling you.” Allison sped up the last part of her rumor, making it so he couldn’t cover his ears as he typically used to. Walking over to him, she grinned and wiggled her fingers in the air, eyeing his torso.

A grunt left Diego’s already reluctantly smiling mouth as he attempted to tug on his legs in order to move, “Dammit! Screw you, Allison! - ACK!” His eyes squeezed shut, embarrassed at the slight giggle that he’d let out without her even touching him yet. 

“What is it, Diego? Surely, you've grown out of letting a few tickly fingers take you down?” Allison teased, poking his tummy with her two index fingers.

A snort escaped his mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggle fit that was bound to start as he doubled over. He tried to use his regained mobility to make a break for it, but it was too late. The momentum from the force he'd been using in his attempts to get away pushed him to the floor. He was absolutely cornered.

“Nonono — I-I, yes, I have grown out of it!” The way his arms were wrapped around his torso and the quick pace of his words, however, told a different story. “I’m seri - NO,” he yelped before dissolving into a squirmy puddle of silent giggles. Allison’s digits were swiftly poking and scratching at any spot they could reach.

“You’re what? Cereal? Serene? Can’t be serious; you’re giggling too much for that, silly.” Ever since they were children, Diego always seemed to bring out Allison’s most brutal teases. “It seems to me that you still might be the most ticklish one in this house, Diego! Tell me, how does it feel to have such a title?” She’d been able to latch her hands onto the sides of his stomach before wiggling her fingers into them. 

His laughter rose in volume when he opened his mouth to speak, “I-It tickles! - Shit, shit,” he squealed over Allison’s coos, “Sh-sh-shut up!” Saying the word, along with his embarrassingly childish reactions to such simple touches, was enough to redden his face. A squawk left his mouth when he felt a clawed hand digging into his lower tummy, dangerously close to his bellybutton. 

Allison stopped for a second, glancing down at both of Diego’s hands clutching onto her single hand on his stomach, and back up at her uncontrollably giggling brother. The grin on her face was the only thing that preceded her free hand flying straight towards his unguarded navel. 

Diego weakly pushed at her hands as he kicked his legs and screamed. His cackles now echoed through the whole house. Both of her hands were squaring in on his stomach and fuck, he couldn’t take it. “Allison - fuck! I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, oh my God, stop,” Diego rambled quickly between gasps of laughter, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, much to his own chagrin, and Allison’s amusement.

He was just so fun to tickle. He always had been. Of course, Allison knew he wasn’t going to die; he was just over dramatic sometimes. “What’s the magic word?”

“F-Fuck off,” he growled.

Allison mimicked a buzzer noise as she continued to tickle and poke around Diego’s hypersensitive midriff, even adding a few pokes to his thigh, and pinches to his triceps, “Wrong.” She laughed at the rather adorable image of her brother, curled up in the corner of his room, hands flailing in an attempt to get the tickles to stop, and twitching away from every little touch. He really was ticklish just about everywhere. 

“I've gotta tell Lila about this,” Allison chuckled, making a mental note. “Imagine her finding out that you're ticklish on your shoulders. And your chest? She's gonna have a field day, I know it.”

A squeal, “Noho, okay, okay, please! Pleasepleaseplease, fuck,” he rolled over, yelling when the tickles didn’t stop, “Fucking please, Allison! Pleehease.”

“All right, you big baby!” She decided to finally let up, chuckling at the residual giggles that escaped Diego’s mouth. 

He clutched his stomach, wheezing. “Christ, I fucking… forgot what that felt like.” A warning look was shot towards his sister, “Don't you dare tell her.”

Allison grinned, poking him again and brightening when she was rewarded with a yelp. “I think we all did, and…” a quick spider over his tummy got him to curl up again, “I think I just might.”

—

Allison clutched the chart firmly in her fist, making her way up the many flights of stairs. Last but not least. She glanced at the notes by the scrawled out ‘Number Five:’ says he's not ticklish but we know he is, flinches when anyone touches his knees (especially the left one), and hiccups a lot after laughing really hard.

Bursting into his room, Allison, expecting him to be doing… well, whatever old man stuff he liked to do, was surprised to find her brother fast asleep in his bed. After all he’d been through, experiencing the apocalypse twice & back to back, he certainly deserved a nap or twelve. 

One thing that all of the siblings agreed on, though silently, was that Five was utterly adorable when he was asleep, and not snapping at anyone. Surely, just a smidge less adorable than when… 

A poke to the blanketed figure made his snoring breaths hitch, and then they continued as normal.

He’d napped long enough, Allison thought to herself, not knowing if he’d been sleeping for two minutes or two hours. Nothing could beat her infinite curiosity, though, about just where dear old Fivey was ticklish. It had been far too long, and she knew he was at least a little bad on his knees but there was no way that could be all. That little body definitely held tons of bottled up laughter over the years that just had to be let out.

Of course his right leg was sticking out of the mass of comforter and sheets. Of course it was. 

Allison quickly spidered her fingers right above the hem of his grey knee socks, that he even wore to bed, apparently. 

A sudden jerking motion under the covers followed as he stopped snoring.

“Fiiive,” Allison crooned in a somewhat warning tone. No answer. She pinched the sides of his knee, only to be awarded with a twitch and a “cough” that was far too loud to pass off as a cough. 

“Fuck off, Allison,” Five’s sleepy voice, muffled by the pillow, piped up.

“Okay, rude,” she replied, going in for the kill, skittering all five of her nails over his knee cap.

He internally cursed at the choking sound that escaped his throat, as he pulled his leg under the covers, in order to provide some defense. The blanket reshaped itself as he curled up, and Allison thought she heard a grumpy sigh through the fabric.

“Y’know, you might’ve spent almost 50 years without other people, but I would’ve thought that you’d remember at least some of your manners.” Another sigh. “No apology? Fine then.”

Allison sat right down on Five’s bed, and grabbed his left ankle, pulling it out from under the covers.

Before he could teleport away, he felt unbearably light and spidery tickles along the back of his knee. A screech that he couldn’t hope to suppress left his mouth, but only took seconds for the bubbly giggles, and the violent kicking, to begin. 

Allison’s steady hold on Five’s ankle turned out to be a major asset to her attack as his whole body thrashed around, tangling himself in his blanket and sheets. She couldn't help but flinch at the frantic movements and his other foot weakly pushing at her hip.

“Good to see little Five still has those tickly, tickly knees!” 

“Allison! Fucking,” he squeaked, unable to hold back the helpless laughter, “Fuck you! I’m gonna - ACK,” another giggle. “Dammit! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The giggles laced with threatening screams were delightfully familiar. “Sure you will, Giggles,” she teased, prodding and squeezing around his entire knee, adding some occasional rib tickles into the mix to make him twitch. 

Five’s hands flickered blue, but there was no way he could teleport with how unfocused he was. He felt like he was going crazy. It had been ages since he'd laughed so freely, let alone been tickled; certainly since before he left. The sensation, so completely disarming while also frustratingly familiar, overwhelmed him.

“Fuck you, I swear - shit! Oh my fucking g- Allison!”

“Yes?” She stuck her tongue out in concentration, digging into the spot just above his kneecap that made him scream. 

Five was in hell. His hands were still glowing, but never enough to do anything goddamn useful. He could feel his leg twitching, trying to kick, but Allison was merciless, and she had a lot more practice tickling his thirteen-year-old body than he had fighting off her adult reflexes. The giggles pouring out of his mouth were starting to grow hoarse, though, and he was pretty sure that if this kept up much longer, he’d actually go crazy.

“F-fine!”

“What was that?”

“I said - ” The tickling stopped, but his eyes locked on where Allison’s lethal nails were still hovering over his ribs. Flushed, he choked back a giggle. “I said fine, you fucking - ”

“Fine what?” Allison aimed a poke at the space between two ribs and he jerked.

“Fine, I’m sorry!” The hands withdrew, and Five curled into himself, breathing heavily through the last remaining chuckles. Allison blew on two fingertips like a gun, and dodged the smack that Five sent her way. 

“Fuck off. Hic.”

Allison’s eyes lit up. “There they are!”

“Huh? What are you - hic - talking about?” Five grumbled, pulling his knees into his chest and sucking in a big breath to try to stop the hiccups.

She grinned, pulling out the chart, and resisting the urge to reach out and poke his puffed cheeks. “I took notes.”

Five’s eyes widened, and he let out his breath, looking vaguely… impressed. “Holy shit. You’re thorough.” His eyes scanned over her scribbled words. “Diego? Really?”

Allison chuckled. “Really. I’m surprised you forgot, he’s the worst of all of us. Even worse than you.”

Five’s nose wrinkled, and he let out a childish snort. “Serves him right.”

“Oh, shut up, you ticklish little son of a bitch.” Diego muttered from the doorway... alongside Klaus, Vanya, and Luther.

Five spun and internally cursed at himself at the blush growing on his face, wondering how long the rest of his siblings had been there watching him get absolutely wrecked.

“I know you are but what am I,” he snapped back at his bigger but younger brother, who’d lunged towards him, ready for a battle.

Diego was blocked by Allison though, and he stopped, knowing not to cross her while she was in the terrifying mood she’d been in all day.

“Guys, enough. Can’t we have just one fun day without you at each other’s throats?”

“Y’know what, Allison, I know I didn’t get a very close look but…” Klaus clicked his tongue as his strong brows furrowed, “I don’t think I saw your name on that little chart.” He made his way over to his other siblings with an unmistakable glint in his eye and grabbed the chart from his sister’s hand. 

Allison always did have the upper hand in all their tickle fights, and now they all knew why.

“W-well, that’s because I made it.” The look that her family exchanged did not go unnoticed, and she stepped backwards, ending up stumbling onto Five’s bed. “Hey, hey guys, wait - ”

The chart was updated that day; Vanya’s handwriting scrawled next to Allison’s name, alongside cackly laughter, super ticklish neck and armpits!!!, accidentally kicked Luther in the head, & best sister ever.

#umbrella academy #tua #tickle fic #tickling #ticklishhargreeves #my fics #ticklish!luther #ticklish!diego #ticklish!allison #ticklish!klaus #ticklish!five #ticklish!ben #ticklish!vanya

[kylorengarbagedump]

Kylo Ren is Mysteriously Here (NSFW)

Read on AO3 here.

Summary: You'd written about it before, plenty of times. Kylo Ren being mysteriously in your home. You never actually thought it would fucking happen.

Words: 4500

Warnings: Forced orgasm, inappropriate use of the force

Characters: Kylo Ren x NonbinaryAFAB!Reader

A/N: This is a birthday gift for my very precious friend, @satans-codpiece. I am so fucking sorry that it took me forever to write this, but, I figure almost 4 months later is better than never? Haha. I love you so much, your friendship is very important to me, and I hope that you liked it.

And I hope the rest of y'all liked it, too! <3

A Kylo Ren dakimakura had been a bad idea.

Okay, sure, fine--it was nice to cuddle with. Even nicer to wake up to. In the groggy moments of morning when dreams and reality muddled, you could almost convince yourself, then: Kylo Ren was real. And he was in your home. And you could pull him closer, press your face into his, breathe out his name, murmur into the dawn, I love you...

But then there was the realization, as your mind dragged itself from unconsciousness, that you were wrong. That the face you opened your eyes to did not have dark, fluttering lashes or mole-marked skin or warm breath. It was fabric, stretched over more fabric, stretched over a fat wad of cotton. There was no blood or pulse or life. All you were cuddling with was a stupid fucking pillow.

Sighing, you rolled onto your back, dragging your Faux Kylo with you. You stared into his artfully rendered face, wondering what it’d be like to kiss him. To feel his lips, full and pink, on yours. To have his massive, heavy body hovering over you, caging you, as he consumed you with desire and need. You closed your eyes, a shiver racing through your spine, warmth pooling between your thighs. Another need this pillow simply couldn’t take care of. In futile acquiescence, you slid your hand over your stomach, between your legs, seeking to satisfy the ache.

Fingers skimmed the mound of your cunt, and you gasped into the air, back arching to the ceiling while you pulled your pillow closer. “Oh, Kylo…”

You weren’t sure what caused it. Magic, maybe. Or perhaps the shock of pleasure had finally eroded a barrier in your brain and sent you careening into full-on hallucinations. Whatever it had been, you knew that no earthly or alien influence could replicate its result.

“What is this?”

At first, you screamed, your hand jerking away from your thighs, your frame shrinking into the bed as you snatched the blankets to your face. But then you saw the voice’s owner--and your scream grew into a wail. You flung your dakimakura at the intruder, and it buffeted the side of his head with a dull fwop. The intruder didn’t respond--didn’t even flinch--and so you screeched again, scrambling against your headboard. Apparently, given the options fight, flight, or freeze, your brain went with the dumbest, most pointless one.

How a man had managed to sneak his way into your room was one thing--but your intruder wasn’t just stealthy. He was dressed in a 501st Legion approved Kylo Ren outfit--an impeccable replica down to the scuffs on his boots, the fluttering of that new cape. Then there was the issue of his face. It wasn’t just a slight favoring of Kylo Ren. No--it was more like a clone. Like a clone of Kylo Ren had found himself in your home. In your room. Feet away from your bed. The only thing that made logical sense was that someone had observed your obsession for him and decided to break into your home and attempt to seduce you by emulating him in all manners of dress and appearance with the sole goal of having consensual sex with you in your bed.

The sick bastard. 

“Who are you?” you spat, holding your sheets in front of you like a shield. “What do you want?”

Your intruder’s eyes--God, they were gorgeous, what the fuck--scanned you, then explored the room, resting on the dakimakura that now laid at his feet. “Kylo Ren,” he replied. The way his lips moved, the way his voice rumbled--you shuddered. The intruder nudged the pillow with the toe of his boot, face twisting in disgust. “What is this?”

You blinked. “Uh, I’m sorry, but you need to tell me who you are before I start answering questions for you.”

“I’ve answered your question.” His tone was iron. “I’ll ask you one more time: what is this?”

“No, you haven’t,” you replied. “I asked you who you are. Not who you’re dressed as.”

“You’re speaking nonsense.”

Frowning, you dropped the sheets and crossed your arms. “I’m not the one who broke into someone’s home dressed as a tantrum-throwing space wizard.”

The intruder’s eyes narrowed, and he met your gaze, his lips parting in disbelief. “A what?”

“A tantrum-throwing space wizard--”

His hand shot out--and you winced, just after you noticed that you’d lost all ability to speak. Heat rushed you when you squeaked, grasping at your throat, pulling at the invisible constriction, mind spinning with confusion. Your previous logical conclusion was losing viability. Now, your brain was entertaining far more bizarre ideas. Such as the idea that this man, this intruder, was not, in fact, a stalker, but was in fact, Kylo Fucking Ren.

The mere thought made you choke again, muscles tensing, cunt clenching at the thought that it might be Kylo Ren in your room, that it might be Kylo Ren making you gag, that the only real explanation other than “fever dream” was that it was actually Kylo Ren using the Force in the confines of your tiny, unworthy bedroom. But that couldn’t be possible. There was no way. There must have been some trick, you insisted, allowing him to do this. You’d figure it out.

Your intruder released you, and you wheezed, collapsing onto your bed, chest sucking down air like a black hole. Blood buzzed in your cheeks as it returned to the rest of you, as oxygen granted you a hint of clarity once more.

“Now tell me,” he said, kicking the dakimakura, “what this is and why you have it.”

You shrugged. “I have to admit, that was pretty convincing,” you said. “But I’m going to have to ask you to get the fuck out.”

To be fully, completely honest--it pained you to give this order. Because, God, he was massive--tall, broad, thick with muscle--and he was also absolutely gorgeous. His face had beauty marks in all the appropriate places, and his hair--it was long, thick, the light in your room shimmering off its luscious waves. You imagined combing it through with your fingers, imagined what it would be like to have his hands gripping your hips, if only he was Kylo Ren.

But Kylo Ren was not real. And he was not Kylo Ren.

“Strange that you find it appropriate to give orders to me.” He stepped toward you.

Your heart jumped into your throat. “Get the fuck away from me!” You hunted for something else to launch at him, finding only more pillows.

“If you won’t tell me,” he said, “then I will find out on my own.”

“Stop!”

Pillows would have to do. Grimacing, you launched another pillow in his direction, hoping it would distract him enough to grant you time to run. Instead, in mid-throw, the pillow stalled, suspended in the air--and then you were frozen, too, your limbs locked, your muscles paralyzed. You could only watch, horrified, as the intruder plucked the pillow from the air, tossing it to the side. It wasn’t possible that this could be the Force--so your brain rejected it, insisting that there must be another explanation. But the longer you went without movement, the more time you questioned how he would have simultaneously rigged both you and a pillow to stop mid-movement.

Your theories were thinning. There was only one option--no matter how incredible it seemed--that could explain your situation. That this man was, somehow, Kylo Motherfucking Ren.

The conclusion was punctuated by a sharp pain piercing your skull, shooting out into your brain like electric claws. You weren’t sure if you screamed, or even moved--the pain became the only memory you had, replacing all sight, knowledge, or consciousness. Something, an invisible finger, was rooting around in your mind, peeling you open and seeking out an answer. It was impossible to stop. It started at your name, moved to Kylo Ren, moved to your pillow, discovering a wherewhenwhyandhow--and, oh, fuck--

Like a hook being torn free, the invasive little finger ripped out clean, and your sight returned, along with your breath and your fear. You whimpered, collapsing onto your bed, training your eyes back onto Kylo Ren, whose face was twisting into some sort of sick smirk. Blood filled your cheeks. Sure, he’d discovered what the pillow was and how you’d gotten it. He’d seen the memory of you ordering it, the memory when you pulled it free of its packaging, felt your heart swelling when you held it in your arms. Unfortunately, he’d also seen your most recent memory associated with it.

You know, the one where you’d been touching yourself while you cuddled it.

In the depths of his throat, Kylo Ren laughed, his arms falling to his sides when he took a step forward. Parts of you were still throbbing. You weren’t sure from what.

“Do you know what I just saw?”

Your throat had swollen shut. Words wouldn’t come out. All you could do was nod.

“Interesting.”

A ghost-pressure swirled around your pussy--a light, airy tease--and you whined, pressing your thighs together as you bit your lip. Anticipation flooded your inner-thighs, your cunt clenching while the rest of your body registered the sensation. The Force was on your pussy, sliding back and forth over your outer folds, enticing you, eliciting tremors through your limbs. Swallowing, your eyes met his, and you whimpered--a small, pathetic plea.

“You like that,” he murmured. “Sit back.”

Chin shaking, you nodded, sitting up, easing your back against the headboard of the bed. Kylo Ren’s gaze followed you, scrutinized you, slid over you like silk. It lingered there, for a moment, before it snapped back to yours.

“Take those off,” he said, head nodding toward your bottoms. “I want to watch.”

Your jaw dropped, heat exploding inside of you. He wanted to… watch? How could you possibly deny him? Your hands moved toward your boxers, quaking beyond your control. Grabbing the hem was too difficult--anxiety had sapped you of all muscle command. Including grip strength. Hoping your struggle was entertaining, you glanced at him, offering him an embarrassed grin.

But he was less than amused. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Gnawing on your cheek, you slid your thumbs under the elastic and shoved down, pushing them over your hips and thighs and using your legs to kick them free. The air was cool--but your goosebumps came from excitement. And you felt it--Kylo Ren, devouring your flesh with his eyes.

“Good,” he said, before the pressure returned, feather-soft over your pussy, grazing your clit.

“Fuck…” The word came out in a breath, your lids fluttering shut as the Force teased you--your folds and flesh moved with it, bending to the extension of his will.

“No.” It was a sharp, harsh command. You winced and clenched at the same time. “Open your eyes.”

“Fuck…”

Whimpering, you peeled them open, focusing on the steady, dark gaze of the man across from you. He smirked, his fingers twitching, and your cunt opened, a round, firm nothingness pushing at your entrance. A gasp escaped, and you clenched again, your pussy aching to swallow the rest of something that had no physical form. You watched him, speechless, as he stared at you, one Force-length swirling around your clit, the other working into you, centimeter by centimeter, pushing in, out, in, your core spasming.

The part of you that wasn’t enraptured by Kylo Ren was whirling in confusion--the idea that this could really be happening, and happening to you was incomprehensible. Your muscles quaked in disbelief and anxiety, sweat slipping down your back. Yeah, that was sexy. The most beautiful man in the universe--and you were greeting him with a sweaty back. What if--

“Oh, fuck…”

The Force inched deep, flicking your clit--pleasure shot through you,  wiping your mind of any thoughts besides more and please. And he must have heard them, or known, because the invisible digits drew tight circles around your nub, pumping in and out of your cunt. You groaned, your thighs trembling when you spread them wider, frame leaning into your headboard.

“Much better.” Kylo Ren chuckled, and it only made you shudder. “You like that, don’t you?”

You nodded, but he shook his head.

“Say it.”

“I… I like it, sir. I love it.”

He hummed, his eyes glowing. The Force became a vibration, resonating through your nerves, down your toes and fingers, your body a conductor for bliss--and it fucked you, now, stroking your walls, faster, harder, stretching you wide. You bit your lip, trapping it back, but it felt so good, too good, and as you approached the peak, it happened--a long, deep moan escaped, flowing from you in the most natural form of praise it could offer.

“Good,” he purred. “Good…”

Gasping, you tensed, wanting to restrain your climax, wanting to draw this unreality out as long as you possibly could, terrified that once you came, Kylo Ren would be gone. But he wasn’t stopping--no, he was determined, and your pussy was pulsing, your skin tingling with familiar sparks, pleasure clouding your sight and your brain.The Force fucked into your core, relentless on your clit.

“Oh,” you whispered, fingers digging into your sheets.  “Wait--stop--”

Kylo Ren snickered. “Cum.”

A single word, and you snapped, your back arching toward the ceiling, your orgasm crackling like fireworks in your blood. It shook you, blinded you, wrenched a noise so foreign from your lungs you didn’t realize who it belonged to until he stopped, and you crumbled, heaving, sweating, shivering. The sheets felt like sandpaper on your skin, the thought of movement was too much. You were sated and bewildered, your body missing the sensation that your eyes couldn’t frame.

Blinking, you wet your lips. “Thank you, sir,” were the only words you managed to eke out.

A pause. “Is that all you wanted from me?” He sounded almost disappointed. “So simple.”

You were still gasping. Blood had begun to flow from between your legs into the other parts of your body that were arguably more important. Like your brain. Apparently, though, not quickly enough.

“No, sir,” you said, wondering whose voice was so bold. “It isn’t.”

“Really?” A shuffle against the floor when he moved closer. “What is it, then?”

The words wanted to come to your lips. They wanted to, truly. But the second you went to speak them, your courage evaporated, and your mouth went dry.

“Hm?” he asked. “Say it.”

“I…” I want you to…

Fuck. You couldn’t even think them. You smothered your face with your hands, curling up on your side, the heat on your cheeks burning your palms.

“Say it,” he demanded.

You winced. “I can’t!”

“Fine.”

The scythe of his mind sliced through yours, quick and direct, knowing exactly what it sought. The dakimakura. Him. You. At night. Pleasure. And--and--no--

He was out. And the room was silent.

Horrified, you groaned, hoping you could will your heart to stop. The echo of your memories tumbled in your head, a steady thrum of your shame. You wanted to move, but found you weren’t able to stop quivering. Like a mouse. Or just a coward.

“Is that what you want?” There was only one other person in the room--but this voice was soft. Tender. A whisper. It couldn’t possibly have been Kylo Ren. “Tell me.”

You peeked between your digits, catching his gaze. It was guarded. Beyond that, it implored you to speak. Swallowing, you held his stare, watching his shoulders swell between the shutters of your fingers. Then, like an official rendering your final judgement, you nodded.

Kylo Ren stepped forward, crossing to the side of your bed, his mere presence more oppressive than anything you could have anticipated. You went to breathe, but found the air stuck, your brain filled with static. A large, gloved hand rested on your side, rolling you onto your back. His touch was a tranquilizer--you were limp, pliant, open for him as he straddled you, the weight of his cape and frame inspiring a rush in your blood. Your lips were parted. You couldn’t remember to close them.

He wet his own lips before he leaned in, stealing your breath, pressing his mouth against yours. Electricity erupted over your skin, and you whimpered, frozen. You had always imagined reaching up, running your fingers through his hair, gripping at the strength underneath his armor. But all you could do was bask in his presence, unable to stop the trembling whines that escaped into him.

Real or not, Kylo Ren was an incredible kisser. His lips were soft, plush, moving over your own while his tongue tested its way past your teeth. Warmth poured from him into you, and your body responded, your cunt aching and dripping for him again. He shifted over you, easing closer, and sweat collected at the base of your neck. Between the heat of him and all of his fucking layers he was a human fucking sauna. Your predicament wasn’t helped when his hands started to explore your figure--caressing your thighs, over your hips, smoothing over your belly. You groaned, now, your pelvis bucking against your will, and you felt him, hard and huge and hot.

“Fuck,” you wanted to moan, but it was silenced by his mouth.

One gloved hand worked on opening your thighs, and the other tugged at your shirt, wrapping itself in the hem in an attempt to tear it free. Your heart stalled. Grumbling, you finally moved, grasping at him, pushing him away. This was enough to make him stop, hips lips leaving yours in a breathless huff, his eyes filled with confusion and lust. You traded hot air between your lungs, but neither of you said a word. He grew impatient in the silence, an eyebrow raising while he examined you, a fist still in your shirt.

You swallowed. “Um… I… don’t know if I want you to see.” When he offered no response, you continued, “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He blinked, his gaze traveling your figure before flicking back. “You won’t.”

Balling the fabric in one hand, his other returned from your thighs and gripped the hem, too. He tugged once, twice, and like tissue, shredded your shirt, exposing your soft belly and chest to his eyes. Part of you was indignant--who the fuck was he to just ruin a shirt you owned? For all he knew, you liked that shirt, it could have even been a favorite shirt. The other part of you didn’t give a single shit because holy fuck he ripped your shirt off he’s so fucking strong he should just rip you the fuck apart.

“You liked that,” he purred. His stare dripped desire, leaving a trail of live ash on your skin.

“Uh.” Duh. “Yes.”

Kylo Ren’s eyes wandered over the swell of your belly, down your thighs, gaze shifting between your face and your cunt. Leather-wrapped hands spread your legs wide, and he grinned, his lips parting while he admired your wet folds. You whined, hiding behind your palms--but an invisible pressure pried them away. He grabbed them as they remained suspended in the air, holding a wrist in each fist.

“You have a job to do.” He tugged your hands toward the bulge in his pants. “Go on.”

You blinked, doing a double-take. He couldn’t be serious.

Kylo Ren raised an eyebrow. “I believe my request was clear.”

“Oh.” Shit.

Grunting, you leaned forward, reaching toward his concealed cock. You saw the tremble in your hands before you felt it--you wondered if he felt it. The muscles in your body were wound so tight, the second you touched him you knew you would start registering on the Richter scale. You went to swallow, but the moisture had left your mouth--instead choosing to bead at your hairline and trickle down your neck. Trapping all breath in your ribs, you grazed his erection with your fingertips--and he groaned.

“Oh…” Your cunt pulsed. It needed him.

Torn between the desire to continue teasing him and the one to shove his dick straight into your pussy, you decided to appease the latter, as the idea of testing his impatience seemed deadly. Your sweating digits worked at his pants--honestly, what the fuck kind of contraptions did they make spacepants out of, anyway--until you had hooked your fingers into material that was loose enough to be pulled down. Biting your lip, you caught it and his undergarments, rolling them over his hips and finally, finally, freeing his cock.

There wasn’t much to say about his dick that you hadn’t already put approximately 116,948 words into detailing--but you were, uh, pleased, to learn that it was thick, long, and fucking aching for you.

“Lie back,” he said, a palm already easing you toward the bed.

You complied, flopping under him--your heart throbbing, your head throbbing, your pussy throbbing. You were open and raw, a pulsating wound with the red spider veins exposed, screaming with wanton need. Ren enveloped you, his cape falling around you like a thick sheet, bathing you in shadow, keeping your body his private secret. Hoving over you, he consumed you, his breath brushing over your neck and sending ripples of joy through your skin. He watched you, guiding his cock toward your cunt, smirking as he pushed your folds apart. A sigh escaped him when he swirled the head in your slick, pressing against your swollen core.

“Tell me what you want.”

Your cheeks burned. “I… I want you to fuck me, Kylo.” A pause as you steadied your chattering teeth. “Please.”

“Good.”

A slow, gentle thrust, and he was in, stretching your walls open with the slightest of pressure--and you gasped, lids squeezing shut, a moan rattling its way from your ribcage. Ren was silent, any noise held hostage in his chest, but you could feel it from the way he stiffened, the way his thrusts were tight and controlled--he was fighting the urge to break you.

He pulled out, pushed back in, plunging deeper with each stroke, his arms drawing close to your body, his head hanging in the crook of your neck. After a quiet, ragged breath, he sucked in air through his teeth, his hips stuttering as he worked his cock inside of you. You were frozen, body assaulted with simultaneous waves of pleasure and shock, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders, strangled whimpers passing over your lips. Every new thrust, you thought you were full, that he had stretched you so impossibly wide that you couldn’t take another inch--only to be proven wrong seconds later when he split another part of you at the seams.

“Oh,” you breathed, because that was all you could think to do. “Oh, Kylo…”

“Shh...”

His mouth sucked at your neck, gentle kisses littered up your jawline--and as he met your lips, he jerked his hips, giving you the full length of his dick. You screamed, but he smothered it with a kiss, spilling a long, deep moan into you while you clenched and squeezed his cock. Ren pulled out and slid back in, a leather hand threading through your hair, firm and soothing while he kept his pace slow and powerful.

Your brain spun behind your eyes, the air drawn through your nose hot and full of musk. You breathed in time with his thrusting, your tongue helpless against his own, the sensation making your clit twitch. He was dominating your senses, all of them. And you wanted to cum again. You thought about pushing free, wrenching yourself from his grip and begging for it, but you didn’t need to. Only seconds after you’d thought it, a strange, fluid fluttered around your clit.

Any noise you might have made was swallowed by Ren, who was gripping you tighter, holding you closer, driving his cock into your cunt again and again and again. You whined into him, groaning his name, the sound coming out as a pitiful “Kuhwo...”

He tore his mouth away, and you opened your eyes, meeting a gaze defined by lust. “You want to cum?” he hissed. “Hm?”

The Force flicked your clit back and forth, teasing it stiff. Without a second thought, you replied, “Yes, sir, I do.” The words whispered like water from your lips, as if you were in a dream. Being obedient in itself was simple. But being obedient to him--it was instinct.

“Good,” he purred, and the Force whirled tight loops at your clit, his dick pounding your pussy, his mouth back to muffling yours.

Your climax came in bursts--the first was the wash of a tide, leaving you burning under his embrace, but the second came harder, a powerful surge, tensing your muscles, shuddering you with bliss. And then the third slammed you, collapsing your joints, stealing your breath, a typhoon of ecstasy, and you wailed. Breaking free of him, the sound resonated through the room, your body so flooded with heat and pleasure that there was nowhere else for it to go. Ren fucked you through it, the echoes of his own orgasm in the background of your mind--he tensed, he growled, he buried his face in your neck as he pumped you full with cum.

You laid there, encased in his cape, in his arms, in his warmth. You were still dizzy, and your eyes fluttered shut. Soft, full lips pressed a kiss onto your forehead. You wanted to wrap your arms around him, tell him how incredible that had been, and, though you hadn’t wanted to say it earlier--how much you loved him. It had been only seconds, you were sure, but when you opened your eyes, he wasn’t there.

“What the fuck?” You jolted up in bed. “What the… what the fuck?”

Maybe this was a hallucination. But it didn’t explain how your shirt was still ripped. How your cunt was still leaking cum. How your body still tingled, the tendrils of your climax still stuck to your skin. Blinking, you looked around the room--but it was empty. All that remained was your dakimakura, half-way across the room. But that was just a pillow.

A pillow couldn’t do that.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #kylo ren is mysteriously here #I love you so much Kat I hope you like it #fanfiction problems