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floralembarrassment · 10 months

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Interruptions (1/1) (jegulus raisign Harry)

Regulus couldn't care less what was going on, all he wanted was James. He wanted James and he wanted him now. He didn't care if there were other people around, or if they were busy, or trying to work.

But lately Regulus' attempts to get James attention, full undivided handsy attention, were being bested.

By a 3 year old.

By their son.

By their 3 year old son Harry, whom recently leaned how to open bedroom doors and interrupt his parents "funny business".

Regulus loved his son more than anything in the world. More than James honestly but he was still that 16 year old sometimes who just wanted to sneak into a broom cupboard and make out with his secret love.

But instead, tonight as they were making out in the hall closet, trying to secure one moment of peace, they heard the tiny feet shuffle across the floor, pull a door open, and then the banging on the closet.

"Papa, Papa, Dada, Dada," Harry would say in his tiny little voice.

James would pull away quickly and Regulus would groan. James always happy to go wherever he is needed, opens the door for their son and quickly scoops him up.

"What's up kiddo?" James says as Harry nuzzles into his shoulder.

Regulus sighs, a smile creeping across his face because he can't get enough of his family, of his life. He took a step forward, wrapping his hands around James' waist and squeezing Harry in between them.

"Can't sleep... my blanket is itchy," Harry mumbled, eyes already dropping heavily now cuddled by his fathers.

"Come on, love," James said. "Let's go back to bed," he added.

To Harry's defence, the blanket he was referring to was wool, but Regulus is not convinced it's sheep, as Barty and Evan laughed far too hard about it's material when they gave it to Harry when he was born. The problem is, the boy is still just a little one and demands the blanket even though every night he doesn't like it.

Regulus and James walked back to Harry's room, and gently placed the toddler on his bed, while Regulus switched out the blankets per their nightly routine with one hand knit from his gran. Regulus was pretty sure she knit with silk sometimes because all of her items were so incredibly soft.

They watched as Harry settled so quickly, gripping the blanket with a tiny fist, and then both kissed his cheek to tuck him in. Harry was sleeping soundly before they even made it out of the room.

"Want to?" James asked pumping his eyes brows at Regulus, and pulling Regulus into him by his shirt and jeans and anywhere he could grab really.

Regulus leaned in, kissing James sweetly but firm, and when he pulled away only mere inches, he nodded his head. A glint in his eyes that matched the mischievous sparkle in James'.

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hoarding-niffler · 1 year

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#this HINT of a smile #it's SOFT #I CAN'T #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #my screenshots

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toaster-fire-art · 1 year

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i've had these stored away for a riany day

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friend-crow · 4 months

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Well my spine fucking hates me, but the body of this shirt is almost done. I've learned some new skills, and did a decent job on a narrow hemline that required a lot of easing.

Unfortunately this is just the muslin mock-up of the shirt, and it's probably gonna be a while before I get motivated to start over making it in linen. So far all of the alterations I made to the pattern seem to be working out fine.

#I'm probably still gonna wear the muslin #it's soft

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sanisse · 2 years

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hello once again~! so I apologize I have no real thoughts other then poly! lindir with glorfindel & human male!reader. it’s been bouncing around my head this ship & any thing you got for it I’m good with it 🥰 ( just none of those kinks like water sports or y’know anything like that if you go the more nsfw route please ; v ; they are not my cup of tea other then that go wild 💖 ) Thank you sm in advance 💖💖💖

love these two 🥰 and thank you for being my first masc!reader request! I’m really excited to do one.

I hope this works for you!

Each Moment, Like Woven Thread | Glorfindel/Lindir/Masc!Reader

Spice Level (1-5): 🌶🌶🌶🌶

Pairing: Glorfindel/Lindir/masc!human!reader

Warnings/tags: no warnings for this one. Fluffy. blink and you miss it body worship, blink and you miss it subby!Lindir, blowjobs, threesome, poly relationships, hand holding, double penetration (Lindir sandwich :D )

Minors DNI. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

The sweetest evenings are the ones you spend together, when the air is so drenched with all the blooming spring flowers outside that you can almost taste the flowering mint outside your window. The wind is a lazy thing, curling through the curtains to fan across your goosebump-covered skin.

Glorfindel looks up from the game of checker’s he’s playing with Lindir and reaches out to rub your shoulder.

“Are you cold? I can shut the window.”

They always worry. Your grasp of temperature is so different from theirs.

You hum and lean your head on his big shoulder. “No. It’s kind of nice, actually.”

It had been an unusually warm afternoon. The chill from the evening air is a pleasant change.

Still, without being asked to, Lindir gets up to poke at the embers smoldering in the fireplace and breathes life back into them. The contrast between the licking heat radiating from the fire and the cold blue-tinged air makes you shiver again, but it’s a nice kind of shiver.

“You sure you’re not cold?” Glorfindel asks, still concerned.

You bite back a laugh and kiss his cheek. “I’m sure. Finish your game.”

Lindir is the one to beat Glorfindel tonight. When they’re through, he collects the game and neatly shelves it before joining the two of you on the couch.

That’s how it begins.

That’s how it always begins, really. And for all the two of them like to gently tease you about how easy it is to rile Edain up, it’s usually Lindir that kicks off first. To be fair: really it’s Glorfindel and the way he runs his fingers through Lindir’s hair, massaging his scalp until Lindir’s eyes slip closed and he turns to kiss him.

You like to watch them. They’re so perfect together. There’s something so right about them, about the way they fit together. Glorfindel’s sun-kissed freckled skin against Lindir’s milk-white curves. Glorfindel’s rippling muscles, his huge arms and the way they wrap around Lindir’s much smaller, trim little frame. And their hair, of course: the mingling black and gold.

It takes you all of three minutes of self-indulgent gawking before you join them, leaning in to kiss Glorfindel’s neck.

Glorfindel makes a surprised, happy sound into Lindir’s mouth, then turns to kiss you.

It’s warm, brimming with sunlight and affection. You smile against his lips and cup his cheek in your hand, and Glorfindel winds one giant arm around your waist and rocks you forward until you’re astride him on his lap.

The three of you trade languid kisses, lazy touches-- Glorfindel loves to drag his mouth down your neck, nipping your jaw, running his hands over every inch of you, slipping up beneath your shirt. Lindir’s hand joins his and you hiss in a breath at the sensation: the matched touches. Lindir’s hand is much smaller, but smooth and slightly cool compared to Glorfindel’s warm, lightly-calloused fingers that drag against your skin just-so--

You rumble a noise into Glorfindel’s mouth which he returns with a chuckle.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve either of you,” he says, kissing you again and then turning to take Lindir’s chin and pull him in for a kiss, too. Lindir melts at the touch, blue eyes saucer-wide and full of adoration as he takes in the two of you.

“You look so perfect together,” he says.

It’s your turn to laugh. You rest your head in the crook of Glorfindel’s neck. “I was thinking the same of you.”

Lindir flushes a pleased shade of red. Shuffles like he wants to be even closer to the pair of you, but Glorfindel grumbles something and pats your rear.

“Up. There’s hardly enough room for all three of us on the couch.”

So you take each other to bed. Glorfindel tugs his shirt over his head on his way over and Lindir helps you out of most of your clothes by the time you hit the mattress. You and Glorfindel turn your attention to him. You take out the brooch at his throat and unbutton his coat while Glorfindel bites his ear, tells him how gorgeous he looks, and Lindir writhes and pants and says thank you, heru-- to which you and Glorfindel correct at the exact same time: “Glorfindel.”

He has such a hard time ridding himself of the habitual obsequence even in this constellation the three of you have found yourselves in.

Lindir whines and corrects himself to, “Glorfindel,” and then he breathes your name in the exact same tone as you finally push his coat off his shoulder and lean in to pepper kisses on his neck.

He is just so unbearably pretty.

Glorfindel is, too. He’s built of fluid, graceful lines like a great cat, and he moves like it. Like he could snap you in half with one quick motion, like he’s acutely aware of that-- every movement deliberate and full of control.

“I am not fragile,” you insist.

“No?” Glorfindel says with a lopsided grin. “I think Lindir could take you apart to pieces.”

Despite yourself, you moan.

Glorfindel coils his arm around you again, pulls you toward him until your back is flush with his broad chest. Then he’s going for your trouser laces. Slips inside. Makes a delighted noise when he finds you hard.

You hiss and buck up into the touch. Glorfindel kisses the side of your head. You can’t see him, but you can see the significant look Lindir gives him before Lindir crawls over to you on all fours and dives down to take your cock in his mouth.

It’s so good. Lindir is so good at this and it’s hardly fair. His mouth is so wet and hot, and he never has any trouble taking you right down his throat. Your have to let out a sharp gasp, immediately lightheaded, and sag back against Glorfindel’s chest.

Glorfindel makes another soft sound of approval, reaching around you to push Lindir’s hair out of his face for him. Lindir looks up at you both through his lashes, hollows out his cheeks, and sucks.

You buck up into his mouth and Lindir chokes, then moans, and the vibration around you might as well be the death of you. He’ll be the death of you. You have no idea how he always manages to still be so adorable when he’s doing something so utterly lewd.

He isn’t a tease. Lindir wastes no time pleasuring you, bobbing up and down, flicking his gaze up to you and Glorfindel and then back down to his task. You know that he’s pleasuring you, but he’s also putting on a show for Glorfindel, and by the growing bulge you feel against you, Glorfindel’s enjoying himself just as much as you are.

It doesn’t take very long for the pressure to build, spiral, in and in and in like a collapsing star until you shout and burst right down Lindir’s throat.

Lindir takes it, swallows around you, pulls back to suck on the tip until it’s almost too much and you have to pull him off.

Damn him, he licks his lips.

“Took you right apart,” Glorfindel says triumphantly.

“Oh, shut up and fuck him,” you say, tone fond. “I want to watch.”

“Please?” Lindir gasps out at once, two bright spots of color blooming on his cheeks.

Glorfindel gently pushes you out of his lap and reaches for Lindir, who crawls forward and helps Glorfindel shuck himself out of his trousers. As he does, you finish undressing Lindir and leave him in a puddle of purple and blue silk, then trace the curve of his spine, his hip, reach down to take his pretty pink cock in your hands and relish the way he cries out at the touch. Glorfindel buries his fingers in Lindir’s hair, kisses him, and you --pleasure-drunk and hazy as you are-- find the lubricant in the bedside drawer and pass it over to them.

Lindir rests his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder, panting, while Glorfindel works him open. Lindir reaches for your hand and you take his without hesitation, lacing your fingers together and giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. He shoots you an excited, sweet smile.

You lounge back against the headboard. Glorindel, content that Lindir’s ready, slowly guides Lindir down onto his cock.

The sound Lindir makes is divine.

They’re divine --the two of them together-- as Glorfindel grabs handfuls of Lindir’s ass and Lindir rides him, still holding your hand, half-shaking with how full he feels. He regards the two of you with unbridled adoration and a measure of disbelief, forever completely unable to fathom why the two of you want him.

“Beautiful,” you say on impulse. You squeeze his hand again, then lean in to kiss his plush mouth while Glorfindel slams up into him. “You’re so beautiful.”

Lindir chokes out another tiny whine. He lets go of your hand to find your cock again, to stroke you, which drags a moan straight out of you.

“Join us?” Glorfindel asks. His voice is ragged and thick.

“We’ll have to flip around,” you say.

“No, just like this--” Glorfindel thrusts again, lets out a soft growl, nips at Lindir’s chest. “I think he could take us both.”

Lindir mewls. “Yes!”

“Are you sure?” you ask, even though heat floods through your spine at the thought. Glorfindel’s big, especially for someone as small as Lindir. You don’t want to hurt him.

Lindir nods frantically, places himself flat against Glorfindel’s chest, and murmurs pleasepleaseplease as Glorfindel’s pace slows, and when he’s begging like that--

You kiss him again. Kiss Glorfindel. Then settle behind them. Glorfindel stills. The two of you make sure Lindir’s slick and then, slowly, slowly, you push in.

Lindir gasps-- a sharp, short little sound. Glorfindel lets out another rumbling growl. It’s so tight and slick and incredible that your vision blurs for a second.

Panting, you rub little circles on Lindir’s back. “Is it too much?”

“No!” Lindir exclaims, slightly addled, voice dripping with lust. “No. Please--- more? More.”

You push the rest of the way in and Glorfindel lets out a stream of Quenya curses. His head falls back against the headboard with a distinct thump. Lindir is an earthquake beneath your hands, fluttering around both of you, whining and moaning and begging one of you to move.

It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

Glorfindel is the first to find his senses. He starts to move, the whole length of him gliding against the whole length of you and Lindir is squeezing you so perfectly and you know-- you’re positive-- that if he hadn’t made you come earlier then you certainly would be coming now.

The three of you catch your rhythm, and time seems to dissolve like sugar. There’s nothing, nothing better than the slide, Lindir’s clenching heat and the sweet half-tortured noises of pleasure he’s making, Glorfindel’s groans, and the way it feels to be so close to the two of them.

Lindir comes first, spilling all over Glorfindel’s stomach, shaking and screaming and saying thank you and I love you both so much over and over again like a litany, which tips you right over after him. Then it’s Glorfindel’s turn-- and you’re all a shuddering tangled knot together on the bed, hazy and drowning in pleasure.

As you come down from it, Glorfindel reaches up to stroke your face, to push your hair back with a fond smile. You return the smile, kiss the back of Lindir’s sweat-slicked neck. Stroke his quivering, heaving sides, then pull out and shift to lie next to the two of them.

Lindir’s eyes are still blown wide with lust and slightly glassy. You trace the pad of your thumb over the curve of his mouth.

“Good?” you ask.

He nods enthusiastically. Sleepily reaches for your hand again.

Glorfindel, too, is getting sleepy. He throws an arm around Lindir and shifts a little closer to you.

“Bath later,” Glorfindel bargains. “Too tired to move.”

You hum your agreement. Every single limb is wooden. You’re absurdly sated and too happy to think about being anywhere else but here, right where you belong, with the two of them.

You drift off to sleep-- the three of you together, and it’s bliss.

#glorfindel x reader #glorfindel x you #lindir x reader #lindir x you #glorfindel x lindir #lotr fanfic #lotr imagine #<3 #i really enjoyed doing this one #it's soft #glorfindel #lindir

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defiedfate · 3 months

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@helluvah0tel || Stolas/Blitzo

Gentle, hooting chirps escaped him as Stolas slept lightly beside Blitz. And though he didn't reach out to him in his sleep-- cautious even then of the other's rejection --he managed to keep less than a few inches between them. A desire for their nearness. Perhaps especially in this moment of vulnerability. So very unlike how he was with Stella. The space between them had always been unending. Long nights of sleeping with their backs to one another. Never touching. Never trying. And it only served to make Stolas more and more afraid of the closeness he wanted with Blitz. Closeness he had never ached for in the same way when he had been with Stella.

#helluvah0tel #encounters ;; stolas #I hope this is okay #it's soft #and there's no dialogue #oop #cw for stols

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swan-lite · 2 years

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so upon watching the final episodes of our flag means death, having been totally spoiled for all of the story beats, i sort of assumed that stede was going to be all in for running away with ed

now, maybe it's just me. maybe i'm a cynical bastard who doesn't have the tools to recognize twue wove(tm). but i kinda feel like, maybe, stede was always kinda freaking out

like obviously the man is a walking puddle of misplaced guilt and self-doubt, but i think part of the reason he accepted what chauncey was saying so easily is because he wasn't really on board with the plan to begin with, and i think ed being so eager kinda freaked him out

(what's that you suggest? me? projecting onto stede bonnet? i would never do such a thing)

so i think part of his arc in s2 should be not just realizing that he needs to shoulder some, but *certainly* not all, of the blame for breaking ed, but also come to terms with the fact that he was 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 ready 👏🏼 to run off to china with him. and i think they're both gonna have to see that that's okay

what i very much *don't* want is for stede to be narratively punished for bumping up against a boundary and taking that seriously. even if he did handle it in the WORST WAY POSSIBLE

#does this make sense?#i hope it does #ofmd #stede bonnet #edward teach #blackbeard #blackbonnet #gentebeard #i like gentlebeard personally #it's soft #our flag means death

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mariethewallflower · 2 years

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#Face #Why does my hair look like hey #It's soft #Looks better in person #Follow m #Follow me on instgram #Moecurls #Straight hair #Short hair

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fyrecatpickles · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: One Piece Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji Characters: Roronoa Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Body Modification, Sewing, Writing on the Body, But with thread, Roronoa Zoro-centric, Zoro sews himself but not in a creepy way, this is soft i swear Summary:

“Why the hell are you here, Zoro? Did you get lost?” Nami asked incredulously as her and Usopp found the wandering man staring at rows of colorful strings and yarns.

“For your information, witch,” Zoro glanced over with an irritated frown. It was hard to discern between his regular resting bitch face and annoyed one, but Nami was figuring them out.

“I meant to come here,” He said raising the pools of thread up and then turning back to the colorful array.

“Since when do you know how to sew?” Usopp asked next and Zoro sighed knowing that he was going to have to have a conversation.

“Since forever."

“I’ve never seen you sew once. You have holes in your pants right now, dingus.” Nami pointed out. That made Zoro look down before shrugging casually.

“Doesn’t bother me. Waste of string when they will just get ripped again,” Was his reasoning making the duo stare at each other for a second with an exasperated silent conversation before turning back to the man who was frowning at a particular shade of blue as if it offended him.

“Fine, as dumb of a reason that is, then what pray tell do you sew?” Nami asked again.

Zoro let out one single blink.

“My skin.”

#fyre writes #one piece #one piece fanfiction #zosan #Zoro sews on himself but it's a character study #It's soft

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aggressivelyaverage21 · 1 year

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Holy War Chapter 13

Beatrice leans back on her hands, the grass soft- if not a little damp- beneath her palm. The long strands coiled around her fingers, tickling her skin as they blew softly in the wind. The soil was cool beneath her legs extended in front of her and her heels as they settled into the softness of it - her shoes kicked off somewhere forgotten before she sat down. When did she sit down? Doesn’t matter. If she closed her eyes and listened she could hear the grass brush against the sides of her nylon joggers leaving little dew marks as it did.

The sun was warm on her face as she tilted her head back, it rested against her cheeks and curled around her forearms. She could feel it in her hair as she let it fall loose down her back, clinging to the parts closest to her scalp yet to be bleached by its rays. She wouldn’t leave it down for long, she always got so annoyed with it. But for now it could stay, swaying against her back softly with the breeze. She could feel its heat sinking into the fabric of her pants and socks like a warm blanket, and seeping into the threads of her shirt like a hug.

It was like the air didn’t have a temperature. It wasn’t hot nor cold. The breeze coming and going like gentle exhales pushing it past her as the world breathed soft and even - almost like it was sleeping. Lazily like a cat in the window soaking up the sun just as Beatrice was. Her hair swayed against the back of her shirt, the weight of it oddly soothing to her scalp. The hem of her shirt bumped against her hips through her pants and tapped against the skin of her lower back. The breeze occasionally creeped up the back of it, tickling against her lower back and up her spine. The way it pushed the grass against her hands, running over the hair on her exposed forearms, the only evidence of it existing.

Well that and the way she could breathe here. Soft and easy. Unburdened. The air cool in the way it filled her mouth and moistened her tongue, like it could quench any thirst. Petrichor from the gentle rains the day before lingering in her nostrils. If she could taste it, the air was sure to be almost sweet to her lungs.

It was perfect.

The hairs brushing against the back of her neck or the tips of her ears didn’t bother her like they usually would. Her shoulders didn’t feel strained, nor did her fingers start to tingle as she curled them further into the grass where they supported her weight. Her hips weren’t tight as her legs fell easily to the side. She felt light. And if it wasn’t for the ground so solid beneath her she might have thought she was floating.

There was a little nagging at the back of her mind - it could be more perfect.

Something was missing. A dog curled up at her hip, with his chin resting on her thigh. A woman smiling beside her, laugh floating on the zephyr. Shoulder against shoulder. Thigh against thigh. Fingers intertwined. A strong calf resting against her shin as their legs tangled together.

Beatrice’s eyes were still closed, the pink of her eyelids grew dark and the sun retreated from its embrace as a shadow passed over her. Slowly, if not a little confused, she opened her eyes to find a figure standing over her clouded a bit by shadow so Beatrice was unable to make out who had interrupted her.

“Beatrice.”

KEEP READING

#it's soft #bea and a special guest #guess you gotta read to find out #the softest actually

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