#trying to actually write it is like. probably an impossible task | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obliviouscxnt · 4 months

Text

Nightmare Azriel x Reader

a/n: oh my god, I’m actually so shocked by the feedback from the last fic. It gave me the serotonin and motivation to write a part two :o I'm probably going to make this into a series, I have many ideas!! Maybe some smut if I'm feeling brave... thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! :))

can be read as a standalone, but without some context from pt.1 things might become confusing

synopsis: your need to help gets you into trouble

Warnings: strong(?) hints of sexual activities, minor angst, minor violence, fluff

pt. 1 | pt.3

In the corner of his eye, he can see you picking at your fingers. Your sharp nails do unnecessary damage to your fragile hands.

He knew you were worried for Feyre, ever since she’d been taken to the spring court you’d been on edge.

It went beyond a loyal subject worrying about her High Lady. You fretted for Feyre like you would Amren, or Rhys, or Mor, or Cassian.

Though it was endearing in a way, Azriel didn’t like the way that worry manifested. The way you unknowingly damaged yourself. Your bottom lip was split open from gnawing on it, the skin on your fingers was peeled back and inflamed, and dark circles found their place under your eyes from sleepless nights. Unable to really rest when your friend was in the jaws of the spring beast.

His shadows reach for you, demanding to be with you.

He let a few of them loose, watching as they traveled to you instantly. One settled at your hands, weaving between each of your fingers and curling around your wrist. Another rested on your shoulder, brushing your face. The others couldn’t decide where to settle, traveling over your body frantically as they tried to comfort you.

The shadowsinger was about to pull them back, but as soon as they felt his pull they settled in whichever place they could. Nuzzling against you. Desperate to stay with you, comfort you.

Azriel found it amusing, and so utterly relatable.

He forces his attention back to the papers on his desk. Which was more than a struggle.

It was an impossible task, staring at building diagrams and reading reports from his spies, when the most magnificent woman he’d ever known sat not three feet from him.

Then he felt your eyes on him, and he knew there was no point even trying. He wouldn’t be able to focus.

He meets your gaze and arches a perfect brow.

You wanted to ask him something. That much was obvious. But you hesitated, you didn’t know if he would say yes.

“What is it?”

You glanced down at your hands, then up at him, then back down at your hands. “May I go see Rhys?” Your voice is small as you ask.

When you heard the shadowsinger sigh you knew what the answer would be.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair as he watched you.

You had been asking that a lot recently, and at first he allowed it. He saw no harm in you sitting with his brother, helping him when he needed help, listening when he checked in on Feyre through their bond. He knew his brother didn’t mind, he understood your anxiety and shared it with you tenfold. But Rhysand had a lot to deal with, so for that reason, Azriel shook his head.

“Rhys is very busy.” He starts, extending an open hand toward you. Smile tugging at his lips when you walk around the desk and place your hand in his. “Feyre is strong, she can handle herself.” He assures you as he pulls you to stand between his legs, letting his hands soothe your body. Letting his shadows join him.

But he can tell by how tense you were that his assurance wasn’t helping.

His fingers thread through your hair. “You want to help Feyre, is that it?” His thumb brushed over your jaw as you nod. “Why don’t you pay her sisters a visit? I’m sure that would ease some of her stress, to know that you’re there for them like you were for her.”

He watched some light enter your eyes and almost smiled in victory. You were so enthralled with the idea, you tried to run out of his office to visit them right at that moment. He caught you, pulling you back against him until you sat in his lap. “Tomorrow.” He breathed.

You leaned into him, coaxed by his hands. Sighing as his mouth plants wet kisses down your neck, shivering when you feel his tongue come out to lick over your pulse.

Azriel let himself get lost in you. In feeling you against him. In bathing in your scent.

He doesn’t let himself second guess his suggestion, even though there was a very reasonable voice in his head that was kicking him. A voice that berated him for being so foolish. That screamed to just let you see Rhys. That begged to keep you far, far away from Nesta Acheron.

But that voice is drowned out by his need for you.

He groans when you turn around in his lap, straddling him, shimmering black dress riding up your thighs. His hands immediately find purchase on them, squeezing. While yours tangle in his hair.

You pant, lips parted as your eyes run over him. Stopping at his lips, his eyes, his mouth, his neck, the hands that squeezed your thighs when you looked at them. You were mesmerized by him.

You needed him. Gods, you needed him.

He kissed you like a starved beast. You moaned when his tongue brushed over the roof of your mouth, eliciting a hum from him. His hands slid up to your hips so he could grind you against him, hiking your dress up with them.

You feel him harden beneath you.

“What do you want?” He asks against your lips, kissing them again, then kissing along your jaw, and then kissing back down your neck. Latching on to the spot that had your hands gripping his hair, your thighs tightening around his hips.

“I…” You try, but words won’t form, only sounds.

He parts with your neck to lean his head against yours. Looking in your eyes. Pulling back a bit when you move to kiss him. Hands now holding your hips still against him, torturing you with the feeling of him pressed against you.

Your eyes plead with him, your sharp nails almost digging into his scalp as you lost yourself, and he can’t stop the smirk of pure satisfaction from spreading across his face. “Tell me what you want.”

You shudder when you feel him twitch underneath you. “Please.” His hands squeeze your hips. “Please. Use me.”

The groan that left his mouth had to be the most sinful thing you’d ever heard.

*****

Anxiety chews on your mind, spits it out, and chews it back up again. You wring your shaking hands.

Before you was the door that separated you from the Acheron sisters.

You knew of them, knew what they were like from what Feyre had told you. And now that you were thinking about it, you didn’t want to help them. Not for their sake.

But for Feyre… You’d started coming to terms with the fact that you’d do just about anything for her.

However, that didn’t stop your heart from beating so fast you were afraid it would fail.

Azriel’s hands rest on your upper arms and he leans down to your ear. “Breathe.” You absentmindedly lean into him, relishing in the feeling of his lips brushing your ear. His breath fanning across your cheek.

“If you can’t handle this we’ll go back.” He says, making it very obvious that he wouldn’t mind curling back up in bed with you. You exhale a shaky breath as his hand slowly slides over your breast, your nipple hardens under the silky fabric of your dress and he traces it with his finger. You were seriously debating it.

But your need to help in some way, to do something useful wins.

“I can handle it.” You say, sounding not at all sure of yourself.

But he listens, moving his hands to rest back on your arms. Thumbs drawing calm circles.

You give yourself a moment to breathe. Leaning your head back against his chest. Feeling your stomach flip when his lips press against your head.

When you were finally ready he opened the door for you. You took one more futile deep breath, all the air in the world wouldn’t be able to tame your emotions, then walked in with a friendly smile plastered on your face.

You immediately wished you’d accepted his offer to go back to bed when the harsh eyes of the oldest Acheron sister settled on you. There was no mistaking who was who.

“What are you?”

Her words were like a physical blow. Her voice, colder than ice. You step back bumping into Azriel’s chest.

He rests a hand on your shoulder as if to say, we can still go back. But you’d made your choice, you were here to offer your help. If they didn’t want it, then fine, but you would still offer it.

“A friend,” You manage to say. Her cruel gaze felt like a physical weight on your being. So scrutinizing, so full of hate. It’d been a while since someone cast eyes like that your way. Azriel had been careful to make sure of that. “Of Feyre’s.”

Her stare narrows on you. Drinking you in. You watch her gaze snag on your pointed teeth. You close your mouth. Whatever you were about to say dying in your throat.

“Some friend.”

Azriel glared at Nesta, the warning clear on his face. Say no more. He puts a hand on your lower back, guiding you to where the other sister sat, on a chair in front of a window.

The weight of Nesta's stare never left you.

But when you see Elaine, all of it ceases to matter.

All thoughts left your brain. Not unlike how you got sometimes with Azriel—when all the pleasure became too much—but also completely different. It wasn’t Azriel guiding you now.

It was what lived inside you, the writhing magic that was always thrumming under your skin.

Your brain doesn’t register how the girl looks, hollow; as if someone scooped all the life out of her. Your brain doesn’t register a thing except the irresistible pull.

You could feel it, or her, calling to you. Beckoning you closer.

You couldn’t refuse.

When your mind came back to your body, you stood directly in front of Elaine. Your palm cupping her face.

Then you felt something awful slither into your head. It slipped through the crevices of your mental barriers and crawled into a dark corner of your mind. Hiding from you, even though you could feel it watching.

Nausea overcame you. You snatch your hand back like she burned you. Shuffling back toward Azriel who looked at you with concern.

Then Elaine's eyes closed. Nesta rushed to her sister as she went unconscious. Almost falling out of her chair. The older Acheron managed to catch her in time with help from Azriel’s shadows.

You turned to Azriel. “I want to go.” Your words barely a whisper.

His eyes widen when he sees the fear on your face. The horror. His shadows encompass you, providing your body with a cover, a shield.

“What did you do?!” Nesta shouted through pants of fatigue, having just lugged her sister to bed. You gripped Azriel’s shirt and he held you close to him as he led you out. Away from the screaming woman. “What did you do to my sister?!”

*****

“What happened?”

You swallowed at your High Lord, glancing at Azriel. For what? You didn’t know. Help? Comfort maybe? Whatever it may be you didn’t receive it. All you got was a nod in Rhysand’s direction.

So you turn back, struggling to find your words under his serious gaze. Not harsh, but very, very serious. “I don’t know. She looked so tired… I just—It felt like she was calling to me.” Trying not to think about that thing you could still feel hiding. Still, feel looking at you with eyes you couldn’t see.

He waved for you to continue.

“She’s fine.” You say, and somehow find yourself completely sure of those words. Though you had watched her pass out with your own eyes. Knew it was your doing.

“How do you know that? This is different. Even Azriel said he’s never seen you do something like that before.” You look down at your hands, picking at the already torn skin.

You don’t dare look up when you feel Rhys rise from his seat. Feel him walk around his desk until he’s in front of you. It's when he speaks that you feel the need to meet his stare.

He holds a hand over your head. “May I?”

Azriel steps forward. Looking as if he were about to protest. Rhys shoots him a look that makes him stop.

Rhys needed to know what happened, to make sure you didn't harm his mate's sister. The bond took control of his instincts. Your word wouldn't suffice.

You’d never deny your High Lord a request. Never deny any of your friends a request. You never had before, Azriel always had to step in and do it for you.

So when you stiffly shook your head no, well, to say they were shocked would be an understatement.

Your whole body was tense as if just the act of refusing took everything out of you. Required every bone, every muscle, and every bit of air in your body.

But you couldn’t risk that thing infecting Rhys. Not when you didn’t know what it was. Not when you could feel its hungry stare.

You held your breath until Rhysand’s hand dropped to his side.

Your felt physically ill. The weight of what you just did settling on you. You stiffly turned to Azriel.

“I want to go.” You said for the second time that day.

Azriel’s brows dipped as he looked at you, worry covering his features. His shadows were restless, flicking with agitation as they too struggled to see you so bothered.

He glances at Rhys but the High Lord gives him a look of sympathy. “I need to speak with you.”

The shadowsinger’s jaw clenched. Wanting nothing more than to refuse, to point out the state you were in even though it was as clear as day.

But he couldn’t say no to his brother, not after all he’d done for them.

He walks you to the office door, turning you to face him before you can leave. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your head. His words were nothing but breath against your ear. A whisper for only you to hear. “Go to bed. I’ll join you soon.” But you didn't walk away, looking unsure, nervous. “Go.”

Your only consolation, as you left, were the shadows that parted with him and linked with you.

Once you were far enough down the hall the High Lord spoke. “What was she thinking?” He paced in front of his desk. “She knows her magic is dangerous… did she even read those books Helion sent?” He swallowed as he remembered the limited information those three books had, the only books that made any mention of dreamwalkers.

“Of course, she read them, you asked her too.” Azriel said, bite in his tone. Making Rhys sigh and stop his pacing. The High Lord sends an apologetic look to his brother as he sits on the front of his desk. “She wasn’t thinking,” Azriel says after a few moments of silence.

Rhys raised a brow, silently telling him to elaborate.

The shadowsinger leans back, remembering that look on your face. A look he’d seen many times, but never in a public setting, and you never moved on your own. “She was in a trance.”

“Elaine could’ve done something to her.” Rhys thinks aloud, making Azriel straighten.

Did she curse you? They still had no idea what gifts the cauldron bestowed upon the Acheron sisters. The last thing he wanted was for you to be on the receiving end of those gifts.

Both Illyrian men sat in worry.

“I’m sorry, I suggested she visit them. I thought maybe she’d click with them like she did Feyre.” Azriel says, running a hand down his face.

Rhys shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I know she wants to help. And not everyone can be as charming as Feyre.” At that, the brothers shared a strained smile.

“How is she?”

Rhys let out a deep breath as he picked imaginary lint off his clothes. “Alive.”

Azriel couldn’t imagine how he’d act if you were in enemy territory, the thought making him tense, body itching to be near you. He’d die before he’d let that happen.

“She’ll be home soon.” Azriel offers Rhys the words of comfort, even though they wouldn't do much.

Before Rhys could reply shadows scurried under the door rushing to Azriel.

The shadowsinger’s face went pale at their whispers. He shot up from his seat. “[name].”

Then a loud bang was heard followed by a scream of bloody murder.

The two males were rushing out of the room and running through the halls of the house within a split second. Somewhere along the way Cassian had joined them, shirtless and sweaty. Having rushed out of the training room the moment he heard the bang.

More bangs sound, but none as loud as the first one. And no more screams follow.

Azriel found himself wishing for you to scream. If you were screaming you were breathing.

He burst through the door of your shared chambers, almost knocking it down. He didn't stop to stare at the sight before him like his brothers did. There was no time to pause, not when you were being shoved into the tub by Hybern soldiers, their jagged nails gashing your beautiful skin. Their faces were unnatural and barely formed. Some were faceless, just flat skin and dark empty holes where their eyes and mouths should've been.

Stood behind you was the disfigured form of the King of Hybern himself. His body was reconstructed by the nightmare, making his fae features more monstrous. More fitting for his character.

The evil king's smile stretched from ear to ear as you thrashed under the cold water.

Azriel shoved his way through, ripping you from their arms and dragging you out of the tub. But the soldiers didn’t stop. Still reaching for you with their long slender fingers.

Tears flowed from your closed eyes, your body twitching and shaking as you were tortured both in your mind and outside it.

“Rhys!” Azriel shouted springing the High Lord into action. He rushed over, dodging the grabbing arms before setting both hands on either side of your head and forcing you to wake.

Your eyes snapped open, gulping in as much air as possible. The figures dissipated into thin air. Like a flame being snuffed out.

You squirmed away from the hands of your High Lord. Pushing against the firm body you adored so much.

You grabbed Azriel, holding him tight. So tight he wouldn’t be able to leave you again. Too afraid to worry about your bare body and the fact that both Cassian and Rhysand could see. Too afraid to notice the other person who stood at the doorway with wide eyes. Too afraid to do anything but hold him.

“Shhh. I’m here now. I’m here.” He held you tighter as your body shook with silent sobs. “I’m here. I’m here.”

You know what happened now. What that thing was. Gripping Azriel tighter as the knowledge weighed on your brain.

You tensed when he lifted your shivering body into the outstretched towel Cassian held. Azriel pulls you close to him when you recoil away from his brother's gentle touch.

Cassian watched Azriel wrap the towel around you. Heart heavy as you clung to his brother. A look of pure dread etched on your face, accompanied by a stream of never-ending tears.

You’re vaguely aware of Rhys rummaging through your drawers in the background. Vaguely aware of Azriel lifting you once more. Cradling you against him as he carried you to the bed.

He took the medical supplies from Rhys and then asked his brothers to leave. They hesitantly obliged, taking the shocked Nesta Acheron with them and closing the slightly damaged door.

He lays you down on the bed, backing up a bit to open the first aid kit but you lurch for him. Arms tightening around his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wishing he never had to say such words to you. “I’m right here with you.” Feeling his chest split in half when you reluctantly let him go. Bottom lip quivering.

His hands are softer than usual as they patch you up. Frown deepening at every single scratch, and bruise he saw. His fingers brush over an already forming bruise on your waist. Bile rose in his throat as the image of those horrid hands grabbing and piercing your smooth skin filled his mind.

“I took it from her.”

Your broken confession drew his attention away from the bruise and to your scared eyes. He felt helpless as he stared into them, he should've never left you. He cradled your face, thumbing away your tears only for more to take their place. He brushed those away too.

“That nightmare. I took it from her.”

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #rhys acotar #nesta archeron #azriel x you #cassian acotar

956 notes · View notes

webfilledhead · 2 months

Text

muscle memory

tasm!peter parker x reader

Angst then kinda fluff? My first time writing for him be kind to me

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Your night is quiet, you were getting used to quiet evenings. It was weird at first, it felt almost empty. You had so much time now, you spent most of your nights in your room studying for exams that were weeks away. You would sit at your desk and reread paragraphs that slipped your mind the first couple times as you played the news on your tv as background noise.

This night was similar to most, you were actually getting work done this time. You had three assignments done and one to go. The downside to this was that they were due next week and when you finished you would have no work to do and would probably end up reading your assigned readings early.

As you’re about to start your last assignment you hear tapping. You brush it off the first time. The second time it is impossible to ignore since you weren’t just imagining it like all the other nights before. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize the second you turn around it’s over.

You turn in the chair of your desk.

Sure enough there he is. He’s wearing his Spider-Man suit, he’s resting against the windowsill like he can’t bear to hold his own weight. The second your eyes landed upon the torn chest of his suit and the bloodied exposed flesh your movements were muscle memory.

It has been two months since you have done this but your movements are quick and sure. You opened the window and half carried him half dragged him to your bed no questions asked. You remove his mask and the upper half of his suit with deft fingers. You paid no mind to how he smelled like he spent his afternoon swimming in the sewers, maybe you noted it a little. You quickly analyze his injuries as you pull the now dusty first aid kit under your bed out. You didn’t have one before you met him, now you keep it under your bed for easy access.

“Sorry I’m getting your bed all bloody,”he groans out softly which makes your movements come to a halt.

You look at him, really look at him. It’s been two months since you’ve seen him up close and not just on the news. You haven’t seen him since he broke up with you, claiming it was too dangerous for you to be around him. You were so angry at first but now after sixty days you’ve grown numb. Your feelings are starting to bubble at the surface again as you gaze into his chocolate brown eyes. His stupid doe eyes.

You take a deep breath and tell yourself you can be angry later. You need to focus on the task at hand, another assignment really,“It’s fine everything can be washed away.”

Your words carry weight that you want nothing to do with. Everything can’t be washed away, some stains are stubborn and never leave. You know you can’t wash him away no matter how much you try that much is evident with how your ears always perk up when his name is mentioned in the news.

Before he can get another word out you exit your room, head to the bathroom, and get two clean towels and dampen them. You also get him pain medicine from the medicine cabinet. You give him the pills wordlessly with your water bottle that was at your desk.

With the damp towel you begin to clean off all the dried blood and grime so you can get a good look at how bad his injuries really are. You’re gentle as you wipe at his warm skin. The only sounds in the room are the quiet news channel now forgotten on your tv and his soft winces every now and then.

Once his chest is clean you can see he has three long gashes, they aren’t too deep they’re much shallower than you expected, the longest one runs from is upper right pec down to his left side on his lower ribs. As you use the clean towel to clean the wounds again he tries to speak again.

“It really isn’t okay, when did you get white floral bedding? It was dark purple a couple days a-” Peter cuts himself off realizing the implications of what he just said.

You feel slightly embarrassed at how happy you feel hearing that. He still cares for you, you hoped he did somewhere deep within you. Despite everything you still miss him and his constant need for first aid.

“You’ve been watching me,” you don’t ask it’s more of a statement since he just confirmed it. You start applying Neosporin to the gashes.

You can feel yourself folding like origami so you make sure not to look in his eyes. Not to look at his stupid sheepish smile. You can’t do this.

“Why would you ever suggest that? I just mean you used to have purple bedding,”He mumbles trying to cover up for himself as he attempts to sit up to look at you better.

You gently push him back down as you get butterfly bandages from your first aid kit. You use them in the deepest sections first since you don’t know if you’ll have enough for the entire length of the wounds.

“Why are you here Peter?”

You blurt your question out with no thinking prior to it. You know why he’s here, you’re the only person who can take care of him. You’re the only one who knows his secret, the only person he can let his guard down to. The only one who will open your window to him in the middle of the night no questions asked.

“I found myself coming here like I always did after getting beat up. I missed you,”he says so sincerely it hurts.

Your hands stop again for the second time. They begin to shake slightly when you hear his words. You hadn’t seen him in so long and the first time you do he comes back to you all beat up and bloody. You take in your proximity to him for the first time since you dragged him to your bed. You’re leaning over him awfully close to him so you can get a better look at his wounds. He’s warm, his skin is soft when your fingers brush against it, he’s so Peter.

You don’t say anything, not knowing how to reply. Knowing him this doesn’t mean he will want to be in a relationship with you again. He’s so stubborn.

You don’t move away when his hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek,“Do you miss me too?”

The answer to that question is obvious enough he just wants to hear you say it. You can’t, your pride won’t let you. You can’t be left to lick at your wounds alone again.

“You’re so unfair, Parker,” you mumble as you keep your eyes away from his. You focus on the tiny cuts on his chest now, keeping yourself distracted. It’s hard to distract yourself when his hand leaves your face to your waist to keep you close.

It’s not fair that he comes to you in the middle of the night all beat up and bruised after not seeing him for two months and asks you this. It’s not fair that he can just show up whenever he wants and leave whenever he pleases.

Then he gives you that stupid smile of his. That very same smile that never fails to make you melt and give into whatever he has to say. You move your hands from his chest to his face and start cleaning up his face with soft touches.

“I know I’m being unfair, I just can’t stand being away from you anymore,” he says making your brows furrow in confusion.

Then the ugly feelings you pushed down start bubbling at the surface once more,“You can’t just leave me then come back after two months expecting me to welcome you back with open arms.”

“I know I messed up, I know that but I want to make it up to you. Just answer this please: do you miss me?” Peter asks as he tugs you closer to him, you lose your balance and end up with one hand braced on the bed beside him and the other on his shoulder. You’re so close to his face and those pretty brown eyes are looking at you in away that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You try to pull yourself away but his arm that has snaked its way around your waist keeps you planted,“Yes, but Peter you can’t jus-“

Your words are effectively cut off by Peter pressing his lips against yours. It’s sweet, a sweet familiar warmth you missed so much. You wish you could blame muscle memory on how quick you are to melt against him and kiss him back.

#tasm!peter x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x you #tasm spiderman #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter parker #mcu fanfiction #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n

208 notes · View notes

hertzwritings · 11 months

Text

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

A/N: Am I alive? Physically, yes. Am I okay? Probably not. Did I miss all of you guys and writing? YES. Honestly, it’s been weird not writing and keeping in contact with all of you, but I’m trying to get back to it – and that brings us to here. Also, I’ve been listening to Sleep Token on repeat, so I’m feeling things.

I don’t have a set schedule right now, mostly because I have no idea if I’ll be posting regularly or just on a whim, but for now, I’m just getting back in the groove of things!

Your comments, likes, reblogs mean the world to me and would definitely help me stay on it, so if you’ve got anything to say, say it, my loves.

Remember English isn’t my first language, so if there’s errors in grammar or language, try to overlook it. Love you all!

Also, please be gentle wit me on my first day back – it’s like being nervous to start a new school, really.

MASTERLIST

Ask me anything/requests/tag list requests

Pairing: NotFamous!Henry Cavill x female reader

Warnings: Language, dorks being dorks, meet cute, strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, smut (18+, minors DNI), dirty talk, slightly dom/sub, spanking, p in v, tongue on v, blowjobs, slight Msub to Mdom, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, petnames

Wordcount: 4633 (whoops)

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

Laundry day. Probably the worst of days, especially considering the hefty trek from your 5th floor apartment to the basement, which would be bad enough in and of itself, but carrying the massive load of laundry down without a functioning elevator without spilling half of your delicates did seem like an almost impossible task.

At any rate, you were going to do it, and you were going to be a strong, independent woman, who could definitely carry it down and back up again without dropping a thong or three (like last time, where Pete from 5D was lurking).

You heaved the blue IKEA-bag higher on your shoulder, silently cursing yourself for not actually doing the damned laundry more than you did, and began the descent into the musty basement, your trusty laundry-tokens jangling in your pocket of the loose shorts, you were wearing.

It took longer than you’d like to admit, and you almost did drop the entire bag down a flight of stairs, but you made it and with a loud grunt, you pushed the door to the basement and laundry-room open, almost stumbling inside.

“Oh.” You locked eyes with a very handsome stranger, who looked up from the only dryer, hands still buried pretty deeply in there. “Oh, you need this one?” He asked politely, and that voice – smooth velvet, mixed with a deep rumble that settled nicely in your chest and between your legs. The accent didn’t help at all with how attractive you found him, either, and you shifted your weight slightly. Fuck. “I-I… I’m… Not right…” You squeaked, silently cursing yourself for wearing your gray, tattered t-shirt with a faded logo on it, that definitely did not do anything nicely for your shape. You cleared your throat. “No, I’m sorry, no. I’m still in the early laundry-stages.” You said with a smile, and immediately wanted to die. Laundry stages?? He grinned, a fanged tooth catching his lower lip. “Alright. New to the building?” He asked, casually loading a basket with his clothes.

“Sort of. More of a recluse, that have been living here for a month, and just never do laundry at normal people-times.” He chuckled and stood up to his full height. He was an impressive man, easily towering a head and a half above you, and he looked enormous. Muscles rolled under his perfect skin on his arms, and you couldn’t help your brain going in all other directions than polite talk with a neighbor. “Well, nice to meet you, recluse. I’m Henry.” He balanced the basket on his hip (a beautiful move, if you were honest) and extended his hand, which you cautiously shook. “I’m Y/N.” You said with a small smile. His hand was warm and the grasp was firmer than you had expected, small callouses on the tips of his fingers that graced the inside of your wrist deliciously. Fuckedy fuck. “Y/N. Good name.” He winked at you. “Oh, don’t use the second washing machine…” He pointed to the washer with a bright red 2 painted on it. “Stinky Pete from 5D used it, and I don’t want to imagine what on earth he washed, but it still smells vaguely like rot.” He winked at you. “Bye, Recluse Y/N!” And with that he left, leaving you slightly shellshocked and a scent trail of hazel and wood behind.

It went on like that for a few weeks; you showed up, he was already there in various states of undress (once you even came face to face with him in just boxers, because he had spilled what appeared to be red wine everywhere) and you exchanged pleasantries before leaving the basement and going back to your apartment, sighing deeply over the fact, that you never actually talked to the handsome stranger.

----------

A while later, a little past midnight, you were back at it (still no working elevator) and found yourself face to face with the very handsome British man, who this time was wearing fucking gray sweatpants and a tank top, that definitely didn’t leave anything to the imagination. You could see every single muscle underneath the shirt as he loaded the laundry.

“Ah, look who’s back!” he grinned at you. “I saved the best washer for you, but don’t tell Mrs. Selton on the fourth. She can’t know I play favorites, or I’ll never get cookies again.” You laughed. “Alright, your secret’s safe with me, sir.” You said and stood next to him, before starting to load the washer. He tried to say something, but almost bit his tongue and groaned at the sensation. “Are you always this smooth?” You asked, laughing slightly, as he began coughing. “Inhaled… Spit…” He coughed again. When he was finally breathing normally, he raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll have you know, this is in no way an indication of how I handle normal interactions with people. It’s late, and I’m slightly flustered.” He said with a small smirk.

“Mhm.” You nodded, while mindlessly stuffing your washer. “Sure, I’ll believe you.” “Hey, you don’t know me.” He said, leaning against the dryer and crossed his arms. “Maybe you know my name, and probably the color and general state of my underwear, but you don’t know me.” “I never said anything.” You grinned and closed the lid on the washer. “Wait, that’s not even close to full.” He tsked at you and opened it again. “You have to really stuff it in there, or you’ll be down here until morning.” “Excuse you, can you get your hands off of my laundry, you weirdo.” You slapped his hand away. “Maybe I don’t want my clothes overly wrinkled, have you considered that?” You asked. “Pfft. That’s the charm of communal laundry. It’ll always smell a little like other people and it will be wrinkled.” You guffawed. “Sure thing, Henry. Any plans for tonight?” you asked, mindlessly pouring detergent into the container. He looked at you with his head tilted slightly, a few stray curls bouncing onto his forehead. Goddamnit, it should be illegal to look like that when doing laundry. “Eh, not really. It’s Sunday, Sundays are for me and my boy.” You raised an eyebrow. “Your boy, huh?” “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am indeed a parent. I have a child.” He said proudly, leaning over you to press the on-button for you. You jumped onto the counter behind you and sat down on it, insistingly ignoring the creaking of the wood beneath your butt. That’s an insecurity for another day. “Really?” He nodded. “Would your boy happen to be a giant dog?” he frowned. “How the hell did you know that?” You pointed to the unwashed load of laundry, where a suspicious amount of hair had settled on pretty much everything. “Why are you pointing at my... Yeah, well, that is a lot of hair…” He looked back at you with a furrowed brow. “Why are you even looking down there? My laundry should be sacred!” He said teasingly, covering the basket with his arm. “Well… That’s… Uhm… Anyway.” You laughed. “Are you just down here for fun, or did you wait for me?” You asked with a grin. He shrugged. “Oooor… Did you wait for me down here, because we’re the only people in this building that are somewhat close in age, and you are trying to befriend me, which is why you’ve hidden a bottle of wine in your laundry?” “Stop making assumptions that are astutely accurate, it’ll turn weird soon.” He groaned, and – as you thought – pulled a bottle of rosé out of his laundry. “I’m not astutely accurate, I didn’t know it was rosé.” You grinned. He laughed lightly and cocked an eyebrow. “To be fair, it’s mostly because I have nothing to do, and I have a feeling you never celebrated moving here. So…” He opened the bottle with a swift move and pulled two red solo cups out of the basket. “Drink?” You laughed.

“Love to.”

“Okay, come on, why on earth are you keeping these?” He asked, holding a very old thong between his fingers. “Shut up, and stop fondling my underwear, you freak!” you quickly grabbed it from him with a laugh. The bottle had been emptied, and a new one had been brought down and for some reason, in your tipsy mind, it was a great idea helping each other folding each other’s clothes while you were waiting on the load that was currently spinning in the dryer. “I’ll have you know, some clothes are sentimental!” You said, throwing the thong into your blue IKEA-bag. He snickered. “How on earth is tattered and holed thongs sentimental? Besides, to be quite frank, at this point it’s just… Like… A string.” He laughed. “You’re the one to talk! You threw a pair of his socks at him. “I have never seen so many pairs of boxers with holes in them!” He shrugged. “I call it the surprise.” You frowned. “The surprise?” “The surprise.” He moved closer to you, and every single hair on your body stood up, while your breath hitched. He whispered into your ear, closely enough for you to feel his lips touch your earlobe. “If I’m feeling very saucy, I’ll simply rip them off and yell surprise!.” He said and laughed, sending vibrations through your entire body. “Ah, why of course. That’s a totally normal thing to do.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes a little darker than usual. “As opposed to being sentimentally attached to a thong?” he asked, his arms caging you in – it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but it did make your thighs shake a little. His scent enveloped you completely and made it almost impossible to think. “Many tings are sentimental. Underwear, stuff…” You answered lamely. He laughed, a low rumble in his chest and cocked an eyebrow at you. When did his face get so close? “Ah, of course. Stuff and thongs. Nothing better than relieving the good, old days of… Black thongs?” He said softly, his breath fanning over your face. It was intoxicating. “Right. Besides, you have no right to judge me when your underwear looks like it could’ve been made during World War two.” You retorted, shifting slightly in place. He chuckled. “Well… Maybe I have to get new ones, then.”

His lips were so, so close to yours, all it would take was just a little nudge and you would be connected. He was intoxicating as he had you caged, muscles rolling in his arms, his scent of wood and something inherently Henry fully filled your brain, and you almost moved your head, but the sound of the dryer going off pulled both of you out of whatever that was.

“Second load done, one more to go!” He said a little breathlessly and pushed himself away from you – you let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding and jumped down from the counter. “Great.” You whispered, bending down to grab whatever was in there – you would’ve just kept going, if it wasn’t for the small groan that sounded behind you. You turned your head around and caught Henry looking at your ass. “Excuse you.” You smirked. He cleared his throat. “Were you just looking at my ass, Henry from 4C?” “Uhm… No, I… I-” He groaned. “Fine, I was, but you can’t blame me! You’re bending down like that, and you’re wearing those fucking shorts… I can’t help it, you’re fucking gorgeous, darling.” You shivered. “Oh.” A thick silence fell between you, and you slowly stood up, laundry be damned. “Yeah, well… It’s an unfair advantage, I really tried to be proper and all that, but... Jesus Christ, Y/N.” he groaned again and closed his eyes – the small twitch in his gray sweatpants did not go unseen by you. “Respectfully, are you wearing anything underneath those sweatpants?” You asked, slightly out of breath while heat and wetness were pooling in your panties by the mere idea. “Maybe, maybe not. Are you wearing anything under that?” He asked, opening his eyes slightly. “No, my sentimental thongs are in the laundry.” Wherever the confidence came from, you had no idea, but his reaction to you was more than enough for you to keep going. You were slightly shaky as you moved a step closer to him. “Y/N…” He whispered. “Henry…” You were chest to chest to him now, his lower back against the counter. It was slightly exhilarating to have the control, especially over such a big man as Henry. “Henry…” You whispered his name again, and a fucking whimper fell from his lips. Yeah, fuck this.

You pounced – as best as you could, height difference and all – and the moment, he realized what you were doing, his arms wrapped around you and lifted you slightly, so your lips could connect. It was electric. No, not electric, it was like a symphony of colors, feelings and it was like plunging into cool water, when his lips touched yours. You moaned against his lips, and he gasped, letting your tongue glide against his. Deepening the kiss, he straightened up slightly, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist, holding on for dear life. Your lips and tongues slid against each other fervently, a slight groan reverberating from his throat send you over the edge. You bit his lower lip, pulling a soft moan from him, and wrapped your hand in is hair, tugging it slightly. The reaction was better than you could’ve ever imagined. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard, while a mix of moans and your name tumbled from his lips to yours – you could feel his hard length pressing against the sweatpants and your shorts, and you were sure you were leaving wet spots on his pants. “Fuck, Henry…” You mumbled his name, and he turned around to place you on the counter, before going to your throat, kissing and biting. You moaned at the feeling and threw your head back. “Harder.” You moaned, and felt him smile against your skin, before his teeth sunk deeper into your skin, his large hands tightening their grip on your thighs, causing you to roll your hips. “Fucking hell, darling, I can almost taste you from here…” He whispered against you, his hands moving upwards. “Hmm, really?” You moaned, rolling your hips again. “Nobody’s stopping you.” You tugged his hair again for good measure. “No, you’re right about that.” He mumbled, his hands dancing up, up, up, until they reached the waistband of your shorts and gently pulled them down, letting the fabric slide down your legs – you lifted your ass from the counter, allowing them to fully fall off of you, and he groaned at the sight in front of him. “Fuuuck, darling… I can see how fucking wet you are… Can I taste you?” He asked, his darkened eyes finding yours, chest heaving. You cocked an eyebrow. “Ask nicely.” He chuckled, a thick finger gliding along your hip, slowly inching towards your mound. “Please, Y/N, please… Fuck, I need to taste you, please, let me taste you… let me eat you out until you cum on my tongue.” For a seemingly proper British man, he was filthy. “Yes.” He didn’t wait a second before moving down your body, teeth catching both fabric and nipple on his way down, before he stopped, licking his lips, while looking at your exposed, dripping pussy. “Y/N…” He mumbled your name like a prayer, and before you even had the time to breathe, he licked a thick line along your lips, parting them with it. He moaned at the taste and dove in like a man starved. You mewled at the feeling, his tongue moving around your clit, fingers still on your inner thigh, and you could barely hold your upper body up as his tongue dipped inside of you. “Fuck, yes… I want to feel you cum on me, darling…” He mumbled against you, his hips rutting slightly into nothing. “Fingers. Please, fingers.” You managed to moan as his tongue went back to your clit, hardening against it as he began to eat you out with an intensity you’d never experienced before. He obeyed silently, adding two thick fingers into your dripping pussy, curling them upwards. You bit back a scream as they filled you, slowly sliding in and out, hitting your g-spot over and over, while his tongue did magic on your clit; you’d forever be ruined by this man, and he hadn’t even been inside of you yet. “Fuck!” You bit back a scream as he sped up, tongue and fingers working in perfect unison to pull you closer to the edge; he chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your clit. “Be quiet, little bird, or someone will hear.” He said slowly, taking a small break from your clit. “Fuck off, it’s like three in the mo-or…” You didn’t finish your sentence, as he dove back in, this time with a speed and intensity, that could’ve killed you on a different day. “Shit, I’m gonna…” He moaned as you tightened around his fingers, and he slurped your juices from you, keeping the pace as best he could. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby… I want to feel you cum, can you cum for me, please…” He whimpered as your pussy pulled his fingers deeper inside of you, and you shook slightly.

You couldn’t stop it, even if you wanted to. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, white spots appearing in your vision, and you felt, more than heard, his moaning as you rode your orgasm out on his face and fingers.

“Fuck, baby, look at you… You squirted for me, didn’t you, darling?” he looked up at you with a devilish smirk on his face, that was shimmering with your cum under the low fluorescent lights. You moaned – his fingers were still going in and out of you. “Now…” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. “You get on your knees, darling.” E stood up and wiped his face gracefully, putting a single finger in his mouth. “You taste fucking amazing.” He grinned at you and stood to his full height, a sense of authority filling the room. “Knees.” He commanded, and who were you to deny that? You slid down from the counter on shaky legs and landed on your knees, looking up at him. “Fuck, darling, you can’t look at me like that, I’ll fucking cum here and now.” He groaned. “Well, where’s the fun in that?” You said while your fingers grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down, letting his cock spring free. You almost salivated at the look of it. Thick, throbbing slightly, a thick vein running down the length of it and a drop of precum sparkling under the lights. He was huge. “Well, what are you waiting for, little bird?” he chuckled, before he cut it off with a moan, as your lips wrapped around the tip, and you slid down as far as your jaw and throat allowed you to. He moaned as the tip hit the back of your throat and you choked slightly on it – you were dripping wet, as you began to move back and fort on his length, swallowing as much as you could, reveling in the taste of is precum. He twitched slightly and a choked moan spilled from his lips, as he thrusted forwards. “Fuck, baby… Shit, you’re really... Fuck… Good at this…” He moaned. You smiled around his length and moved faster, hearing the choked moans above, spurring you on. “Fuck, baby, stop, stop, stop… Stop, I’ll cum if you keep going…” You whimpered as he pulled away from you, a line of spit connecting you, and you looked up at him with big eyes. He groaned and held your chin with a large hand. “Good girl. I want to feel you before I cum, darling.” He whispered, gently guiding you up to your feet again by your chin. He kissed you deeply before turning you around, bending you over the counter. “Fuck, this ass… You’re a fucking wonder, baby…” He reveled, a hand falling on your ass. You moaned at the sensation and your hips bucked, exposing yourself more to him. “Oh, look at you, doing so fucking good for me already, aren’t you?” he whispered. You moaned again. “Henry, please…” You whimpered his name and tried to push back to get him inside of you, but he chuckled and held you tightly in place. “No, baby girl, you’re going to stay right there.” He ran a hand down your spine and slapped your ass again, forcing a whimper from you. “Now, you ask nicely, and I’ll fuck you right here, right now.” He said darkly, his hand gently running circles over your ass, sometimes dipping between your legs. You coked on a moan, and barely had the wherewithal to create a coherent sentence. “Please, please, p-please, fuck, Henry, please… Please f-fuck me, I’m begging you-u…” His finger dipped inside of you. “You want to feel my cock slowly slide inside of you, baby?” He asked, dragging his finger in and out painfully slow. You whimpered a broken yes. “Want to feel me dragging against your walls, huh? Want me to fill you, let my cum drip out of you?” You were a shaking mess as another finger was added. “Y-yes…” You felt like crying. It was so good, but so torturous to feel his fingers glide so fucking slowly. “Ah, you can do better than that, darling.” He said, bending over you – you could feel the tip of his cock against your ass, as his mouth found your neck again. “P-please, Henry, please… I want to feel your cock in me, please…” “Mhm… I want to fill you up, darling… I want to watch my thick cock slide in and out of your tight pussy, seeing you take me…” He rambled, fingers moving faster now, and you groaned at his words. “Fuck, y-yes, Henry, I’m b-begging you, please…” you mewled. He withdrew his fingers too quickly for your liking, and he spat on your already soaked pussy, before lining himself up. “You think you can take all of me right now, baby? Let my thick cock go as deep as it can, huh?” He asked, rubbing the tip against your entrance, smearing the wetness around. You nodded, desperate for anything at this point. “No, no, that won’t do, little bird.” He tsked at you and his free hand wrapped around your hair and tugged slightly, arcing your back as your head got pulled back. You moaned loudly. “Mhm, keep the sound down, we’re in a public area, sweetheart.” He said with a small chuckle. “Ask me and mean it.” He ordered, the tip of his throbbing cock so fucking close to glide inside of you. “Fucking fill me, or I swear to god…” you begged, and whatever you wanted to say got lost in your throat, as he slid inside of you swiftly and in one, single thrust, bottomed out.

You shrieked in both pain and pleasure, your legs shaking and if he hadn’t kept a tight grip on your hair and waist, you’d probably collapse. “Oh, good girl, look at you taking all of me… Sit, it looks to fucking good to see my cock in you, baby…” He mumbled. He didn’t move yet, simply allowing you to adjust. After a few seconds, you rolled your hips to let him know you were good, and he chuckled darkly. “There’s a good, little slut, darling.” His words combined with his voice sent wetness down your thighs as he began moving, slowly at first, before picking up speed. You felt every single twitch inside of you, and he filled you to the brim. You had never been so fucking full before, and you’d never want to stop, if you were honest. He angled himself a little better and pistoned in and out of you; you saw stars and a red-hot burning started in your abdomen seconds before your orgasm hit you; it was blinding and your legs were barely functioning as you came around him, your pussy pulling him deeper, as your thighs got soaked and he moaned. “Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N… Fuck, I’m not going to last long…” He moaned as you twitched around him and met his thrust, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the otherwise quiet room. “Fucking fill me, please… I want to feel you cum, I’m b-begging you…” you moaned, almost delirious at this point. He roared and bit down on your shoulder, before he picked up speed and began fucking you fiercely, his tick and long cock hitting your cervix slightly. You mewled and another rush of wetness went down your legs, as you neared another orgasm while he whispered praise and encouragements in your ear.

“Look at that fucking… Oh, fuck…” He groaned and thrusted harder than ever, his rhythm becoming irregular. “Look at you taking me so well, darling… You’re doing so good for me, can you cum again?” He licked the spot, he had just bitten. “Can you cum for me again, baby girl? Let me… Fuck… Feel you cum again?”

As if you could deny him.

He clamped a hand over your mouth as you came wit a scream, your pussy tightening and pulsing around his length as he fucked you into oblivion. He roared with pleasure and his hand moved from your waist to your ass, grabbing it harshly before picking up speed and chased his own high. You were shaking, barely coherent as he fucked you relentlessly. “Henry… Fuck, please… Let me feel you cum… Fuck, p-please, I want to feel you fill me, please…” You moaned his name like a prayer, and he growled before his speed stuttered. “Fuck, baby… I’m going to fill you up, you’ll be dripping for days… I’m so fucking deep in your tight pussy…” he mumbled, his hand bruising your ass, wile he pistoned back and forth; he fell silent for half a second, before you felt him swell and twitch slightly. “Tell me you’re mine.” He growled. “Mine.” His cock pounded you relentlessly. “H-henry… Shit, y-yes, yes, I’m yours!” You mewled as he twitched again.

Ropes of his cum painted your insides, and you came with him as you felt the heat of his spend inside of you. Henry growled as you tightened around him again, and he jerked his hips so he was a deep as e could be, whispering praise to you, as you rode out your own orgasm.

You stayed bent over the creaky counter, sweat dripping form the both of you, his cock still inside of you, for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath.

“Shit, that was…” he whispered, kissing the bitemark on your shoulder gently. You shivered. “Mhmm…” Words did kind of fail you at the moment. He seemed to understand whatever you meant, at any rate, and chuckled gently, before slowly pulling out with a hiss. “Jesus Christ… You’re a fucking wonder, you know that, Y/N?” He asked, the sweetest smile painting his features. You grinned with slightly bruised lips, and pulled your shorts back up. No reason to try and clean up. “Says you.” He bent down and grabbed the black thong, that was more string than fabric at this point, at stuffed it in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Sentimental value, you know?” You laughed. “Does this mean I get to see your surprise-move?” You asked jokingly. He cocked his eyebrow and a smile spread across his face – he was a goddamn Adonis.

“Well, I do have more wine in my apartment… And a bed…”

“Lead the way.”

TAGLIST:

@acaceta @a-skov @buckyshattergirl @angelmather1 @cooldreamlandsandwich @doubletriplepowerbomb @est1887@enchantedbytomandhenry @fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @jeepgirls-stuff @Keiva1000 @kebabgirl67 @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler @pandaxnienke @perfunctory-username69 @penneferofvenerburg @sleutherclaw @sofiebstar @summersong69 @spookyboogyuniverse @stardusted26 @thereisa8ella @timetraveller4@thatonechickhere @themanfromu @thelastpyle @tragicphoenix13 @yourlocalhoney @wheretheriversrunintothesea @severewobblerlightdragon @leigh70 @phildunphyisadilf

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavil #henry cavill superman #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x #henry cavill x you #enry cavill x y/n #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill au #henry cavill x you smut #henry cavill x you fanfiction #henry cavill x yn #henry cavill x y/n smut #henry cavill strangers to lovers

430 notes · View notes

inphront · 1 month

Text

y’know i’m writing this fic and it’s making me think that maybe we don’t recognize enough as a fandom that a lot of harrow’s guilt and shame, which make her light years more sympathetic as a character, are a.) not actually that moral, b.) directly caused by the ninth, and c.) probably shared with her parents, the only characters in the whole series that i’ve never seen a single post trying to humanize/analyze as complex. like. harrow hates herself for what her parents did and honestly? the most likely reason for this is just that kids subconsciously recognize themselves as extensions of their parents, and *her parents probably hated themselves for what they did.* regularly explaining your crimes against humanity to your five-year-old but only being willing to discuss it in the terms of it being a horrible sin and having to take a ritual cleansing bath every single time is the action of a very guilty person. i have to imagine that those saltwater baths probably included some really intense self-flagellation on the part of harrow’s parents that she internalized. i’d venture so far as to say that their suicides were motivated by guilt over the massacre just as much as by shame over the opening of the tomb.

harrow’s sense of constant guilt is so often seen as proof of her having overcome the imperial morality pushed by the houses, and that makes sense given the fact that she *has* taken a viewpoint by the end of the series that opposes imperial morality, but also, guilt is like the main export of the ninth house. harrow’s relationship to it, even once it stops being something she projects onto gideon or otherwise externalizes, is fundamentally ninth and ties her to what she herself acknowledges as “the worst flaws of her house.” ultimately it is something she inherited just as much as the 200, which to me provokes a lot of questions about how her parents actually coped with the consequences of their own fucked-up actions. gideon experienced that coping as just straight cruelty, but we know that harrow got a much more complex window into their feelings and behaviors, and my guess is those behaviors bore distinct resemblance to hers.

i have to wonder what sorts of systemic pressures were falling on them and their house that led to them killing off a whole generation, and what sort of transformations they underwent. how *do* you live with yourself knowing that the blood of so many innocent people, people you were responsible for *protecting,* is on your hands? how could you possibly raise a well-adjusted child when she’s basically a mirror into an atrocity you could’ve hardly fathomed up till the day you committed it? do you think they tried to? i think they probably tried to, but ultimately being a good parent doesn’t change being a mass murderer, and it’s impossible to pull off at all when the mass murder is so directly tied to your hopes for your child. the ninth’s entire purpose within the empire is to carry the weight and memory of one of the most horrible things john ever did, to *inherit the mass death and necromantic subjugation of the earth.* in this capacity, harrow’s parents are *victims* of the empire and its doctrine around death who proceeded to perpetuate both the mass death and necromantic subjugation AND the task of bearing the burden of shame onto their next generation. i don’t really know where i’m going with this aside from “the ninth’s cycle of violence is based in shame and is an extension of john’s disbelief in forgiveness, which means harrow can’t break it without forgiving something unforgivable; it’ll be interesting to see how she manages such a difficult task,” and “i think we oughtta talk about the politics of guilt as it applies to the entire reverend family dynamic”

#tlt #harrowhark nonagesimus #priamhark noniusvianus #pelleamena novenarius #phron’s locked tomb essays

143 notes · View notes

teyums · 1 year

Note

Hiya! Could u please write a fic for aonung about how he would react to oblivious female reader being too close to a guy? She probably wouldn't have noticed it because she's showing him how to weave baskets or something and aonung is just standing from afar like 😡. Can u end it with some fluff and the rest is upto u. Love ur writing btw have a good day/night

“I’m coming with you.” - Ao’nung x fem metkayina reader

a/n: Of course I can! Your wish is my command, anon. 🤭 thank you for your kind words, I hope this meets your expectations! 🤍

contains: fluff, slightly spicy towards the end, aged up ao’nung x reader

“Ao’nung, I have to go!” This man was impossible, every time you pulled his hands away they reattached right back to your waist like putty. “I’m serious! I cannot be late for their first day.” You said, finally tearing away from his grasp.

“Oh come on, you don’t have to.” He sighed, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I’m sure they can teach themselves just fine, what do they need my girlfriend for?”

“Yes, I do.” You stood on your toes to quickly peck his cheek, gathering your materials as he watched you with an unsatisfied look on his face. “I promised your mother I would help teach the newcomers how to weave their hammocks, I won’t be long.” You loved helping people learn and your goal for the future was to be a teacher to the children of the clan- so you immediately agreed when your Tsahik asked you to take on the responsibility of helping the Sully kids learn some basic skills.

The three oldest sully siblings were hilarious and honestly a breath of fresh air to be around. You knew everyone in your clan very well, so finally getting to see some new faces was more than exciting.

You sat around in a circle, thoroughly explaining the basics of weaving and demonstrating in front of them while they eyed your hands closely. Kiri caught on almost instantly, explaining that she had previously watched Neytiri do it so many times that it came back to her rather quickly. The younger boy, however, was the exact opposite.

Lo’ak huffed frustratedly and threw his knotted ball of hemp down onto the sand, successfully catching your attention. The task seemed to prove difficult for him, his elbow resting on his knee and his chin now in the palm of his hand while he sulked. “Why do we need to learn this again?”

You grinned at his childlike display of anger and tried not to laugh, sitting down next to him and picking up his failed attempt. “It is a good skill to have. Don’t you want to be able to do these things on your own one day?”

“Relax, baby bro. Not everyone is going to get it on their first try.” Neteyam chimed in, proudly holding up his hammock that was already a third of the way finished. For his first attempt, it was nearly perfect. You couldn’t believe how easily Neteyam excelled in any task given to him.

You smile grew wider, excitedly clapping your hands together in approval. “Wow, good job! You are a fast learner.” He blushed at your praise and nervously scratched his head, refocusing his attention on his weaving.

It seemed your praise of his older brother only aggravated Lo’ak more. He suddenly rose to his feet and brushed the sand off the back of his legs, preparing to leave. “This is stupid, I’m outta here.” He grumbled.

You tore your attention from the eldest son and looked up, grabbing hold of Lo’ak’s wrist before he could take a step forward. “Lo’ak, be patient. Everyone learns at their own pace. Sit down, I will help you.” You offered, showing him grace as you knew adjusting to their new home was frustrating him more than the actual lesson.

His shoulders relaxed slightly at your touch. He looked back and forth between you and your hand, nodding and sitting back down next to you in the sand after a brief moment of contemplation.

After unraveling the hemp, you placed it in his lap and took his hands into yours. “I’ll show you how to do it, okay? Loosen your hands.” You instructed, waiting until he followed your directions to continue. “So you go over and through, then under-” you started, helping Lo’ak move his hands the correct way and celebrating when he picked up on the rest and began to remember your lesson. “See! You’ve got it.”

The appearance of these unfamiliar looking na’vi were very different. Their skin was much darker than the metkayina people- hence why you did not notice his cheeks starting to blush. “You’re just a good teacher.” He smiled.

Kiri stifled a laugh and shared a look with Neteyam, the both of them knowing that Lo’ak knew what to do all along, he just wanted you to pay more attention to him than the others.

Ao’nung stood smugly outside your shared Mauri, his muscular arms folded over his chest in distaste as he watched the sight in front of him from a distance. He leaned against the hut, his eyes narrowing as your slender hands made their way onto Lo’ak’s. Why the hell were you touching him and why was he enjoying it? He saw the way that boy looked at you, how both of them looked at you. How could you be so oblivious to the fact that they liked you? His lips turned up into a scowl just thinking about it. You were his only and he wanted you all to himself.

~~ later that evening ~~

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? Same time, don’t forget!” You waved goodbye to the three of them, wrapping up your lesson for the day and making your way back to your home. A dim, warm light peeked out through the doorway of your Mauri and you smiled at the thought of Ao’nung waiting up for you. You pushed through the curtains and tilted your head in curiosity when you saw your mate laying flat on his back in your hammock, staring straight up at the ceiling with his hands folded over his stomach.

It was probably nothing, you knew how he would get when he was in his moods sometimes so you brushed it off and made your way over to him. “I’m back, my love,” you leaned forward, expecting a kiss and not the immediate shrug off you received. “Ao’nung? What is wrong?” Your eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“I don’t know. Maybe your new boyfriends will be able to tell you.” He spat, crossing his arms and avoiding your gaze.

He could not be serious right now. The man who was always overly confident and extremely cocky, was seriously jealous?

“You’re being a child.” You sighed and shook your head, you hated when he got like this. How many times did you have to tell him he was the only one who held room in your heart?

He scoffed and sat up as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “Me? I’m being a child?” He asked, shaking his head with a laugh of disbelief once he realized you were serious. “Did you not see the way they looked at you?” His voice raised slightly, but you paid it no mind, knowing it wasn’t at you but out of frustration like usual.

You brought your hands up and massaged your temples in attempt to soothe your oncoming headache, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking into his eyes. “No, Ao’nung. I didn’t notice how they looked at me, because I do not care. You know I only want you, you are all I’ve ever wanted. Nobody will change that.” You reassured, the look in his eyes gradually softening.

“You promise?” His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, his hands smoothing up your legs and resting on your waist.

“I swear it.” Your smile grew watching his anger melt away at your words.

“Good.”

You squealed when he yanked you into his lap, giggling and sliding your arms over his shoulders. “You were actually jealous?” You smirked, threading your fingers through his loose hair and looking down at him while he hid his face in your shoulder. He gently pressed his lips against your skin, the pads of his thumbs caressing the dips in your hips as he tried to ignore you. “Ao’nung~” You teased in a sing-song voice.

“Shut up.” He grumbled, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You laughed at his embarrassment, cupping his face with your hands to lift it up so your eyes would meet. His gaze traveled from your blue eyes to your supple lips, licking his own at the mere sight of you. He leaned in and you quickly pulled your head back, using your hands to shove him down onto the hammock that held the two of you. You hovered over him, your voice suddenly serious as he stared at you in shock. “I promise you, if you ever,” you jabbed a finger into his chest as you continued, “dodge one of my kisses like that again, I will dump you faster than I can swim. Eywa as my witness.” You warned, his eyes widening at the threat. After all, you were the best female swimmer of your clan. “And wipe that stupid look off your face.”

“Yes ma’am.” He purred, reaching up to grab you by the back of your neck and pull you down against his chest. He crashed his lips into yours, successfully getting a whimper out of you when he playfully tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth.

He released it, tightly gripping a handful of your hair and making you gasp as he whispered in your ear. “And tomorrow, I’m coming with you.”

#avatar 2 #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #avatar way of water #ao’nung x you #ao’nung x y/n #aonung #ao’nung x female reader #ao’nung fanfic #ao’nung smut #aonung x female reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #metkayina #avatar twow #atwow

874 notes · View notes

koolades-world · 1 year

Text

Obey me! brothers handwriting headcannons

gonna rank them best to worst by what I personally think!

1. Lucifer

He must have the world’s nicest and most gorgeous looking handwriting ever. Absolutely effortless. This man is constantly doing paperwork. He probably has a very nice, enchanted pen that never runs out of ink so he never had to worry about the pain of ruining something because he ran out of ink halfway through writing. His signature must look like a fancy font. Mc definitely asks just to watch him write because it’s so pretty and watching the magic happens makes it more real and believable. When he’s in a rush, his handwriting probably looks like a doctor wrote it.

2. Asmo

He works on his penman ship in order to have multiple styles of writing and a cute signature. He dots his I’s with hearts and connects his letters into hearts. How is he supposed to give out autographs if it isn’t exactly how he likes it? He uses this style of writing in class and on simple lists at home. The only time Mc has ever seen him not write super cutesy was when he was half asleep, which is rare on its own. It was worse than Beel’s handwriting, meaning he probably actively worked on his handwriting for so long. It was barely legible. Asmo made Mc promise to never repeat what they saw and burned this note after he has copied it down in his usual handwriting.

3. Satan

His handwriting is probably looks effortless, but it actually took him thousands of years to perfect it. Not that it was bad before, it was gorgeous actually. Almost too gorgeous, too much like Lucifer’s. After Belphie pointed it out in his drowsiness, he vowed to change it. So he did. I have to admire his dedication. While Lucifer’s is much larger and loopier, his is small and clean with very straight letters. If you asked really nicely while at someone like a cat cafe, he might show you what it used to look like, which is what Mc did. Satan can’t say no to you. He writes love letters often, where can can admire his penmanship and his sweet words.

4. Belphie

Despite always being in a state of rest, his handwriting is actually alright. It would be much better if he tried, but he rarely does that. The natural way his writing slants to the left and the way he connects most of his letters is endearing and feels very homey. If he actually tried, however, his handwriting would be better than Lucifer. I personally think both he and Beel and ambidextrous but prefer to write with their left hands. Belphie also seems like the kind to be very good at mimicking other’s handwriting and signatures, which is ideal for pranks. Mc once caught him writing a note as Diavolo to Lucifer to get him out of his office so they could prank it. You would have never guessed unless you saw him writing it.

5. Levi

At first I though his handwriting would be the worst, but I should never underestimate the power of an otaku. He can probably mimic his favorite character’s handwriting for short periods of time, and has definitely entered and won a contest that needed lots of handwritten letters for limited edition merchandise. Normally, when he needs to write things, his handwriting probably isn’t too bad, probably like a high school boy who just wants to go home. Most of his notes, if any, are digital anyways.

6. Mammon

I mean, his handwriting isn’t great, but it’s usually legible. When he doesn’t want something to be legible, he usually makes it so it’s impossible to read by writing nonsense quickly, usually to try and fool Lucifer into thinking he finished whatever paper task he assigned him. It never works. Lucifer has even tried giving him handwriting lessons but they didn’t work out, meaning Mammon tried something stupid enough for Luci to just give up.

7. Beel

Let’s be so fr right now. His handwriting is chicken scratch. It’s to the point where only Belphie and Mc can tell what it says. He also exclusively writes in uppercase with the occasional lowercase thrown in at random. Even though he can write with both hands, that doesn’t change the legibility. He can read his own handwriting, which is all that matters to him. It’s nice that a few other people can too. If he needs to leave any kind of notes, he just doesn’t because he knows nobody will be able to read it. He has Belphie do it, or he just sends a text. Poor baby.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me belphie #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me mammon #obey me x reader #obey me luficer #obey me headcanons #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me brothers

495 notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 2 years

Text

karma rules! part 2.

ln x fem!reader

read part 1: ‘a golf swing and a trampoline’!!

back on my lando bullshit lmao. HI! here’s part 2! i wanted to write a second part considering how things were left in part 1. very interested in knowing if y’all want a third part!! thank you so much for all the love on part 1, one of my fav things i’ve written 🫶 n e wayz, please enjoy more lando suffering and max on lando violence.

sticking to the ‘little freak’ harry vibes with this one too. karma really does rule!

in which everyone is sad and horny.

warnings: 18+!! swearing, alcohol, aaaaangst omg, smut, fluff, max being very fucking annoying, reader being a sexy girlboss, lando’s entire character

7.2k words

lando couldn’t recall exactly how long he’d been stood outside your bedroom door staring at max. he couldn’t recall exactly how long max had been stood there either, staring back at him; disgust etched across his downturned lips and an unwavering sheen of hurt clouded his eyes, greener than usual, probably from the envy scorching through his veins. lando could feel his jaw relaxing every few seconds, his mouth falling open, apologies daring to spill from his parted lips. no sound came out. what was there to say? nothing, apparently, as max turned on his heel and stormed off back towards his room.

lando stood motionless for a second too long, blinking rapidly, mouth bone dry. anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach in the most horrific way, although he supposed he deserved it. some small trace of sense that he’d lost when you turned up on that godforsaken golf course returned, and he finally sprung into action, chasing max down. when he finally caught up to his friend, max was already on the verge of slamming the door in lando’s tanned face.

“max, please, just hear me out-“ lando was breathless, flailing helplessly as he tried to find the right words. max wasn’t keen on giving him the chance to.

“you have everything. you have everything else that i want. why did you need to take her as well?” max spat the words, rage-laced and unrelenting in their brutality. lando’s mouth once again hung agape.

apparently it was a rhetorical question, one that lando would probably think about until his last breath, as the door slammed shut in his reddened face.

what a mess he’d made.

lando’s attention had been taken away from the ceiling looming above him by the slamming of a door and the sound of suitcase wheels rolling along the floor. he’d been sprawled out on his bed, helplessly awake since the early hours of the morning, since he’d crept out of your bed, since max had slammed the door in his face. yet another wave of dread washed over lando, adding to the tally, as he dragged himself up off of the duvet that he’d melted into and arose, daring to investigate. it didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on.

cracking the door open, his suspicions were confirmed. max was almost at the staircase, suitcase in tow behind him. lando sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out into the hall. max turned around at the noise, eyes daring lando to try and convince him to stay after such a betrayal.

“you’re not actually leaving are you?” lando’s voice sounded just as pathetic as he felt. max rolled his eyes.

“what does it look like?” he scoffed in response.

“don’t be silly. come on, we can talk about this.” lando tried to ignore the guilt. an impossible task.

“silly? you fucked her, you prick. there’s nothing to talk about.” max seethed, teeth gritted. lando’s eyes fell shut, unable to meet max’s.

“it’s not like that.”

“then what’s it like? you can’t help yourself, can you? you’re so used to having everything that you want. you had to add her to the collection of things that you have and i don’t.”

“don’t make this into something it’s not.” max’s allusions were misplaced, as far as lando was concerned. lando had taken nothing from max. never a seat, never a girl. not even the one person that he wanted. you weren’t even max’s to be stolen, and yet you and lando had parted ways out of courtesy for no one other than max.

“what is it then? tell me. tell me all about how deep and meaningful it is.” max mocked, hitting lando right where it hurt: his track record with women. “tell me that you’re madly in love with her. i bet you can’t. i know you, lando,” max was pointing his finger now. “i know she’s nothing but another fuck. and you know how i feel about her!” he was getting louder, a little too loud for lando’s liking, considering they were stood right outside of your door. oh, and because the rest of their friends could probably hear every single word from the surrounding rooms.

“that’s not,” lando’s jaw clenched, he swallowed hard. “that’s not true.” he muttered, not wanting to rile max up further by admitting that, yes, he was madly, pathetically, gut wrenchingly in love with you, and he was almost certain you felt the same way.

“you’re such a fucking joke.” max threw the words and they landed square in lando’s chest, leaving him winded. max turned away, resuming his beeline for the stairs once again. lando stepped forward.

“and what am i supposed to tell the others, huh?” lando called, exasperated.

“i don’t know, maybe tell them how much of an asshole you are.”

he didn’t see max’s face again, the door slamming harshly, a line drawn in the sand, a boundary. not that lando had any issue with crossing lines, something he was bitterly reminded of when he turned away from the stairs, letting out an existential sigh as he did, only to be met with your furrowed eyebrows, quivering lips, and oceans of sadness and un-cried tears swirling in your eyes.

it hurt. it actually, physically pained lando. reaching out for you, touching you, even just for a second, just to comfort you, it was forbidden now. he knew that if he pulled you close, he’d never be able to let go. they’d have to find some way to alter his mclaren so that you could race with him. he would not be able to let you go. you knew this just as well as he did. he wondered for a moment why you were looking at him the way you were. distant, confused, sad. after the night you’d shared, the most beautiful, bittersweet turn of events, he couldn’t fathom why you looked so distraught at the sight of him.

why are you looking at me like he did? lando wondered.

that was, of course, until he realised that you’d heard everything.

“i know you, lando.”

“i know she’s nothing but another fuck.”

ouch.

“i don’t know what you heard.” lando’s words scratched the back of his throat, clawing their way out of his mouth and leaving nothing but bitter, bitter regret all over his tongue. he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. nothing would have pleased him more. he’d made too big of a mess.

“just all of it.” your voice was dusted in sleep, the very sleep that he’d peacefully left you in. you didn’t sound like yourself at all and it scared him.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” lando rushed out, trying to salvage any respect you had left for him. you were not just a body to him.

“but he knows you, lando.” you whispered, delicately devastated.

“he doesn’t know anything about the way i feel for you.” if lando needed you to understand one thing, he desperately needed you to understand that.

“he’s lashing out,” you nodded your head softly as you spoke, as if to tell lando that you understood what he was trying to say. “we hurt him.”

“no, i hurt him. this is all my fault.”

“takes two to tango.” you mused, always apt at breaking the ice.

“i never should have let it happen.” and maybe that was the truth, but lando knew that he would thank whatever god he could think of for giving him that one night. the words you’d whispered to him the night before were almost worth the agony.

“do you regret it?” he admired the way you tried to control your shaky voice when you asked.

“i should.” max was right, lando truly was an asshole.

“i didn’t ask whether you should or not, lando. i asked you if you regret it. there are two answers.” this was the first flash he’d gotten on this not so fine morning that you were losing your temper with him. how could he blame you? he would have been wise to start listing all the people he’d pissed off on this trip, but he feared there wasn’t a big enough piece of paper, or enough ink in the world.

“of course i don’t. but i-“

“no. no ‘buts’. it’s already too painful. no ‘buts’.” your words were electrifying in the worst possible way. he had hurt you. this was hurting you. and there was nothing he could do that would make it any better.

“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry.” the emptiness of his apology, despite how much he meant it, was daunting. he had hurt you.

you scoffed. he was getting sick of that sound.

“i don’t want your apology, lando.”

“well, i can’t give you what you want.” he sounded desperate, oh so desperate, a wounded animal frantically searching for a way out. your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh settling deep in your bones. you took one last look at him, knuckles turning a pasty white from how hard you were gripping the door. slowly, it began to close, doing yourself a favour, and shutting him out.

“bye, lando.” you whispered, before you were cast out of sight. if he was counting, this would have been the third door to slam in his face and the sun had barely broken in the sky. what a miserable record to hold; the most people that cannot bare to look at you before 8am.

why would no one give him the luxury of letting him apologise? it made him sick, just how far gone the entire situation was, how out of control he was. a racing drivers worst nightmare. somehow, he’d managed to kill two birds with one stone. max was gone, and it seemed like you weren’t far behind him. maybe you and max were meant for each other after all.

that thought made him feel sicker than anything else had.

phone calls were always awkward, especially for someone as awkward as lando. the awkwardness was intensified by the fact that max was ignoring every single one of his calls, ending them before they could even ring out. there were only so many calls that you could make before you succumbed to the fact that no progress was being made. the next best thing that lando could do was catch a flight, and so that’s what he did.

lando ignored every single quizzical look, ignored the way his brother and tom looked at him doubtfully when he announced that he was leaving early “because of a work thing” that he was “sworn to secrecy” over. he just shrugged at all of their questions as he threw his neatly hung shirts in his suitcase and floored it out of his rented bedroom, taking a similar route to max. down the stairs and out the door. but unlike max, lando was weak. he couldn’t leave without one last glance over his shoulder, one last look at you.

you stood with folded arms, almost judgemental, narrow eyes glazed over with a shimmer that made lando’s heart plummet. you’d chosen him, and yet he was choosing to go and fight for max’s friendship. how tragic.

deep down, he knew he was being cowardly, running away. he needed space, needed to finally be able to breathe again and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do that in a house with you, especially without max’s watchful eye. he also knew that if he played this right, fixed what needed fixing, there was a possibility, albeit a slim one, that he’d be able to initiate something real with you.

while he desperately needed to fix things with max, purely because he was his best friend, he also knew that max acted as a stepping stone, a gate keeper, as tasteless as it sounded. max’s friendship meant the world to him and he was grateful for it, no matter how many times he lost a round of golf, but you were like air and he knew that he needed you just as much. not more, but definitely just as much. it was a delicate balance, one that he thought of in the taxi, imagining he was rested against you again, one that he thought of as the plane took off, as it landed, and as he reclaimed his luggage.

pulling up at max’s parents house was as panic inducing as it should have been, and definitely embarrassing. lando shuffled awkwardly up to the front door, ringing the bell as he rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. when the door swung open to reveal theo, max’s brother, lando momentarily wondered if he needed to book a haircut with the younger fewtrell, before his thoughts were cast aside by the flash of confusion on the face staring back at him. lando smiled sheepishly, never more uncomfortable in his life.

“first max turns up a week early, and now you? what the fuck happened in greece?” were the first words that theo spoke, tilting his head in confusion.

“is he here?” lando enquired, deciding to cut the bullshit and skip the pleasantries, following suit.

“upstairs in his room, hasn’t said a word. what happened?” theo quirked an eyebrow. lando was always a bit strange, sure, but never so on edge. lando, of course, ignored the question. sometimes media training did pay off.

“can i come in? i need to speak to him.” he didn’t realise how urgent he sounded until the words left him, an undoubtedly suspicious theo stepping aside and letting him in.

lando threw a ‘thank you’ over his shoulder, disappearing up the stairs. he was familiar with this house, easily navigating his way through the building that held so many childhood memories, memories that he would not allow to be tarnished. it only hit him that he’d fled greece and chased max across europe once max’s bedroom door came into sight. he froze, attempting to compose himself. it was futile, his breath shaky as he knocked on max’s door.

“what?” the clipped response sounded from the other side of the wood, drenched in angst. lando held his breath, swinging the door open. had it not been for the rather tense situation, lando would have squawked with laughter at the double take max did. “what the fuck?”

“we need to talk.” it seemed easier to get straight to the point. max didn’t exactly seem interested in pleasantries.

“could you not have called?” sarcasm drenched max’s voice, eyes narrowed and unforgiving.

“that’s not funny.” lando sighed, thinking about the many, many times his finger had pressed down on max’s name in his phone.

“my sincerest apologies.” sarcasm won out again, and lando wondered if this was a mistake.

“are you gonna hear me out? i did just fly here.” lando snapped, trying to reign it in, keep himself in check. he was getting desperate.

“and the damage is repaired. thanks so much for thinking of me.”

“all i’ve done is think about you.”

silence settled between them, lando’s words hanging heavy in the air. max’s face grew angrier, jawline tightening.

“and what is that supposed to mean?” max demanded, eyebrows furrowing.

“i’m here, aren’t i? i’m fucking here.” he was here and not with you, where he actually wanted to be. that had to count for something, had to show how much he valued max. realisation dawned in max’s eyes. lando was with him.

“you knew how i felt about her.” max stated. lando nodded. of course he knew, he felt it too. max sighed. “how long?”

lando was silent.

“how fucking long?”

“since that first day. i was relieved when she dumped you, but of course, you couldn’t let her go.” lando tried to lighten the mood but it didn’t translate. it didn’t help that he wasn’t really joking.

“are you trying to blame me?” max bit, eyes narrowing, just as lando thought he was getting somewhere.

“no! for fuck sake, of course i’m not. i just need you to understand.” lando ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“how long has it been going on with her?” max’s voice was quieter, preparing for another blow.

“just that night. that one night.” lando quickly replied, anxious to reassure max that he wasn’t a total traitor.

“then it shouldn’t be hard to let her go.” max spoke the words so simply that lando almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. his face fell, chest tightening.

“max-“

“i don’t want to do this, but i can’t sit back and watch you and her. i can’t fucking do it.” the volume of max’s voice crept up again, voice holding an edge of emotion that made lando ache.

“don’t be unreasonable.” lando almost whispered, words holding absolutely no persuasion. he knew it was over.

“don’t be unreasonable? do you hear yourself? you fucked my ex girlfriend! and you haven’t even fucking apologised to me, by the way.” max shook his head in disbelief, hurt all over again.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” lando repeated the words feebly, suddenly exhausted, utterly utterly drained.

“promise me you won’t go any further with her.”

“please don’t do this.”

“you wouldn’t be here if this didn’t matter to you. promise me, lando.” max held lando’s gaze. it was too easy to crumble.

“i promise.”

the words triggered a minor sense of relief across max’s face and a bottomless pit of dread in lando’s stomach.

the months that followed dragged excruciatingly, like nails on a chalkboard.

the season started back up again, providing momentary relief for lando, but it was barely enough. he managed to avoid max as much as he could, until zandvoort, when max had turned up on a work obligation. it was frosty, tense between the two men, anyone could see that, but no one made the mistake of asking why. on paper, things were on the mend, but lando wondered if max would ever forgive him. he wondered if he’d ever forgive max.

whilst him and max weren’t exactly on the best of terms, at least they’d managed to make contact, the occasional twitch stream doing something to chip away at their icy relationship. you, on the other hand, couldn’t have been further away, whilst remaining painfully at the forefront of his mind. he was going insane, deprived of you for the longest period of time since he’d met you. it seemed a tad dramatic to say that your absence was killing him, but that didn’t make it any less true.

the netherlands blurred into italy, into singapore, into japan. lando couldn’t remember the last time he was at home. not monaco, monaco felt too hollow. he missed the uk. he missed running into you when he wasn’t even trying to. the second half of the season was crushing, an uphill battle. he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t lonely, it did get a bit too quiet for his liking when there was no one else along for the ride, quieter than it usually. no max, no you, miserable.

there was a glimmer of rest between japan and the usa, a brief trip to the uk to breathe. he had lunch with his parents, widened his eyes at how much his baby niece had grown, ruffled his younger sisters’ hair in the way only a big brother could. he had a day on the sim, going over things at the factory. it dragged. he was exhausted. the last thing he needed was to attend a friends birthday party, especially on a thursday night after a long week.

an expensive club in central london wasn’t the most appealing of spaces to lando. he preferred restaurants with friends, maybe indulging in a drink or two over dinner if he was feeling adventurous, but he definitely didn’t enjoy the club scene as much as he was supposed to. but it was dark enough in there to hide the bags under his eyes and the music was just about bearable. he knew he wasn’t the most present person in anyones life, so the least he could do was suck it up and stay for a few.

slumped on a barstool, lando was thankful that he made the effort, because one brief glance to his right set his sights on everything he’d been missing.

sad eyes, short black dress, a smile that made the world stop and anyone with sense lose their mind. you’d arrived. was breathing essential to being alive? it couldn’t be because lando certainly wasn’t breathing, and yet there he was, ready to fall to his knees.

lando was definitely sweating, chest tightening, heart beating faster than his mclaren had ever gone down a straight. he was absolutely at a loss for what he was supposed to do. he had no idea that you were coming, perhaps naively. not a lot of the usual suspects would be attending this birthday party, so he’d ever so stupidly assumed that you simply wouldn’t be either. max, for example, had been tied down by a work commitment and wouldn’t be in attendance.

max. max. max. max max max. max!

lando felt lightheaded.

as far as he was aware, you hadn’t clocked him and he wondered if he should keep it that way, no matter how tempting the alternative was. he swirled the drink in his hand, wrist relaxing as he let out a shaky breath. downing the burning liquor in one swift gulp seemed entirely logical, and so that’s what he did, succumbing to instant regret as he shivered the nasty taste away. lando swiftly swung around on the barstool, planting his now empty glass on the counter before placing his palms down on the cool surface. perks of being somewhere fancy: it wasn’t sticky. the coolness of the marble grounded him, allowing for a moment of clarity before the liquid he’d just thrown back seeped into his blood stream and made him weak. well, weaker.

he glanced around, realising that he’d lost you in the sea of people and strobe lights, wondering if he’d actually manage to get away unscathed. what if he’d imagined you? lando felt this strange pull, something that was keeping him in place. he wasn’t prepared to leave just yet. bravely, he actually turned his head, properly scanning the bar to look for your face. it wasn’t hard to find you this time, especially not when you were already staring back at him.

lando’s throat tightened, eyes holding yours, matching the intensity of your gaze. you truly were a sight for sore eyes, easily the prettiest person in the room. he wondered if the dimly lit bar had somewhat brightened for anyone else as soon as you’d walked in. he almost fell off the barstool when you you leaned in to one of your friends, still maintaining eye contact as you whispered in their ear. next thing he knew, you were making your way over. oh god, you were making your way over. he reached for the collar of his white dress shirt, tugging it to no avail; the material was already half unbuttoned anyway. he didn’t breath any easier.

lando turned away, facing the bar as the stool next to his dragged along the floor. he watched from the corner of his eye as you navigated yourself up onto the stool, the heels of your shoes barely grazing the floor as you slumped next to him. you must have looked like a right pair, emitting high levels of irrevocable sadness, and an unhealthy amount of lust. what a combination.

you grabbed the bartenders attention, waving her over.

“i’ll have two of whatever he’s having, please.” you called across the bar, tilting your head towards the lovesick driver.

he was trying to speak, but nothing but bated breath seemed to escape. almost immediately, two glasses had landed in front of you both. without even looking his way, you held your glass out to clink it with his, quickly taking a sip once he’d fumbled his way to respond, knocking his chilled glass with yours.

“fuck, you’re on the strong stuff.” you choked out, probably not expecting something so bitter in your lightweight drinking partners glass. lando barked out a laugh, entirely humourless. he was in agony. “really? nothing to say to me?” you continued, finally turning your body to face him. he continued staring forward, debating his next move.

“thank you for the drink.” lando replied, planting his hands back on the counter to rise from the barstool and leave. he had to leave. his self control was surely fleeting, his patience for other peoples feelings wearing increasingly thin.

“wait!” he didn’t get very far, a hand much smaller than his own flying instinctively to grab at his forearm. he froze in place, eyes widening at your touch and the embarrassing rush of warmth in his chest. your eyes were stormy, some kind of internal battle taking place. “can’t keep watching you leave.” you seemed to whisper the words in the noisy club, yet he heard you perfectly, almost trembling under your touch.

“does it make any difference to know that i don’t want to leave?” lando offered.

“no.” you scoffed, pouting at him.

he tilted his head, offering you his hand, which you didn’t hesitate to take. you rose to your feet, falling into step behind him as he guided you through the club. he needed to talk to you properly, somewhere quiet. you found yourselves out in the smoking area, neither of you having the intention of lighting one up, but at least you were alone. dangerous territory. last time, it had almost cost him dearly.

“i’m sorry that i left.” lando planted himself against the wall, as far away as he could physically be, implementing what he hoped was a safe distance between you.

“yeah? you should be.” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

“i didn’t know what to do. i thought that maybe if i spoke to him…” lando trailed off, lost in the memory of max’s words. promise me, lando.

“that he’d be okay with it? come on, lando.” you rolled your eyes.

“not my finest plan. i tried.” he pathetically reasoned.

“wish you’d tried with me.” your comment took him aback. it seemed unfair, cruel. hadn’t you both agreed that it was a one time thing?

“we knew that night, we both knew what we were getting into.”

“yeah, well, doesn’t make it any easier.”

“what would you do? huh? what would you do if you were me?” lando practically begged for your answer, holding himself back against the wall.

you were silent. lando pushed himself off the wall, beginning to pace the small space, met with waves of frustration. you just stood there watching, arms still crossed.

“god, this is a fucking joke.” you scoffed again, moving to block his path. he stopped in his tracks, refusing to meet your eyes.

“yeah, fucking hilarious.” he muttered.

it was completely still between you, no movement but the rise and fall of your chests, syncing up as the space between you grew smaller and smaller. shit.

gently, your fingers wrapped around his shirt sleeve, pulling him a tad closer. he was in trouble. you were destined to be the death of him. he felt your fingertips graze the skin of his wrist, a shiver running down his spine.

“i missed you.” you whispered. his head shot up, finally meeting your eyes.

“you know i missed you too.” he murmured, relaxing further into your touch. lando was convinced to had your own magnetic force field.

“i didn’t, actually.” there she was, the tease that he’d missed more than anything.

“haven’t stopped thinking about you.” lando breathed, giving up the fight. he needed you to know that you were at the centre of his every thought.

“what a coincidence, haven’t stopped thinking about you either.” your hand that wasn’t working its way into his own landed softly against his chest, slowly grazing up until you were gently stroking his neck.

“don’t know if i’ll ever get over you.” all sense was lost.

“i don’t want you to.” you whispered, cupping his cheek. the fingers of your other hand were now laced with his.

“good.” he shuffled forwards, any remaining distance lost to your shared urgency.

“i want you, lando. think i always will.” mere centimetres separated you now, alcohol laced breath mingling.

“you’re driving me crazy.” you smiled at that, nose bumping against his.

“one more time.” you muttered, closing the gap, peppering kisses across his jaw. lando’s eyes rolled back.

“we can’t.” lando spoke with so little conviction that he may as well have fucked you right there in the smoking area.

“says who?” you crooned deviously in his ear.

“fuck.” lando panted, pulling you away from his neck, where you had moved your kisses.

with hooded eyes and no more hesitation, lando cupped your face, pulling your lips to his. you hummed against his lips, fingers threading through his hair to keep him close. the kiss was firm, full of things that should have been said months ago, tongues brushing slowly as he held you as close as he could. as you broke away, breathing heavy, you gripped the collar of his now creased shirt, tugging on the material, your other hand still playing with his curls.

“take me home.” you didn’t need to tell him twice.

getting you back to the apartment he stayed in when he was in the city was easy. he’d hailed a taxi, your lips attached to his neck the entire time you were stood on the pavement. he had you wrapped in his arms, shielding you from the chilly october air, while you marked up his skin. once you’d begun the journey back to his place, you managed to behave yourself, despite pulling his hand to sit up high on your bare thigh. lando paid the fare, helping you out of the taxi, the pair of you scurrying into the lobby of the building and into the elevator.

he kissed you again, pressing you against the wall as you travelled up to his floor. you rolled your hips, testing the waters, hearing him groan into your mouth at your teasing. lando held you there for the duration of the journey, lips moving with yours. the ding of the elevator broke you out of your trance and you smiled into the kiss, pulling away. hand in hand, he guided you into his apartment.

the need for one another took precedent, and you quickly found yourselves in the bedroom. the months that had passed went by slowly, too slowly. you both needed it, you could talk after.

lando paused, standing in the doorway as he watched you walk further into the room. he smiled softly, finally feeling at ease. you were so beautiful, and he needed to show you, but he needed a second to take it all in. you, there, with him. just the two of you. you noticed that he’d stopped, turning back to face him.

“hey, you.” you called, reaching your hand out for him. “come here.” he quickly obeyed. he could see the lust in your eyes, the prettiest colours in the world darkened slightly, pupils blown. something softer swirled underneath, and he lost himself.

“gonna let me show you how much i missed you?” lando lowered his lips to your ear, tongue dragging across the skin beneath it. his hands found a home on your waist, spinning you around so that you were flush against him. again, you rolled your hips, body trembling in his big hands.

“need you, lando.” you whined, feeling his fingers skim your collarbone as he pushed your hair out of his way and over your shoulder.

he hummed against your skin, lips working over your neck, open mouthed kisses leaving you panting. his hands smoothed down your back, over the material of your silky black dress. he bunched the material on the way back up, tugging it until he was pulling it over your head. the dress quickly became an afterthought, dropped to the floor in a heap. lando grabbed at your waist again, gently turning you back around to face him. you looked at him through your eyelashes, shy under his intense stare.

your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, the few that were still done up. you pushed it off of lando’s shoulders, running your nails down his bare chest. your hands trailed down his abs, fiddling with his belt, and then the button on his jeans. lando kicked them off, the both you standing there in your underwear.

“on the bed.” lando breathed, walking you backwards.

lando picked you up at the last second, lowering you down onto the duvet, quickly slotting himself between your spread legs. your arms were around his neck, bringing his lips against yours. he felt you shiver against him, his hands grazing your sides, as he kissed down your neck, over your collarbone.

lando kissed over the lace of your bra, mouthing at the material as his fingers slotted behind your arched back, unhooking the clasp. he didn’t linger, quickly tearing it away from your chest. he let out a content sigh, lapping at your nipple, fingers tweaking the other. his tongue swirled, teeth making a cheeky appearance that had you gasping as he bit down. you felt his mouth leave you, fingers still grazing your body.

“did you miss me, baby?” lando’s breath fanned across the valley of your breasts as he spoke, your stomach tightening.

“you know i did.” you muttered, staring down at him.

“how much?” he smirked, kissing the flush skin of your chest. he felt like teasing.

“lando.” you warned, threading a hand through his curls. he breathed out a laugh.

“i know, baby, i know.” he resumed his kisses down your body, fingers slipping beneath the band of your underwear. ever so slowly, he began to pull them down, tugging at the band, letting it snap against your skin. you sighed in frustration, pulling on his hair. he grinned, the most genuine smile he’d been able to muster in what felt like forever. it grew when he saw that you couldn’t help but smile back.

he kissed along your navel, finally peeling your panties down your legs. he had you naked beneath him again, finally, and he couldn’t let a moment go to waste.

he took you apart, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. everything seemed to be moving in flashes, the room disappearing. all he could see was you, hair fanned across his pillow, glowing under the dim lighting, your taste overwhelming him. you thrashed against him, his tongue and his fingers working blissfully until all you could see was white and all you could hear was his name, tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

when he’d kept going, throwing you helplessly over the edge for the second time, you’d let out a cry, gasping through the pleasure that you’d both been so tragically deprived of for too long. he didn’t know if he could stop, didn’t know if he could possibly exercise the type of restraint he’d need to pull himself from between your shaking legs, but your hand in his hair managed to pull him back to reality. he didn’t know where you’d found the strength but he was hovering over you again.

lando took in the sight of you, messy hair, tear stained face, eyes shot with adrenaline, exhaustion. you flashed him a heart stopping grin, eyes fluttering shut as your chest heaved, and he crumbled again, for the millionth time that evening. giving you a second to breath, he brought his soaked fingers to his lips, licking away the mess you’d made. the groan he let out was animalistic, your eyes shooting open.

the kiss you shared was messy, laced with traces of you on his tongue and a clash of teeth. he settled between your thighs, your hands pushing his underwear down until he laid bare on top of you.

“you have no idea how much i missed you. no idea.” lando muttered, lining himself up. he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, slowly pushing inside. you whined, clinging onto him as he moved his hips until you were full. he stilled, hand brushing the hair from your eyes, which were piercing his own.

there was nothing else. there was no max and no time apart, no sad eyes and missed opportunities. there was you, and there was him, and that was it.

“need you to move.” you moaned, fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

lando’s hips retracted slowly, before he was setting a delicious rhythm. he rocked into you at the perfect pace, hips hitting yours. your eyes has rolled back in your head, his own remaining fixed on the way your face moved, eyelashes dusting your cheeks, the creases in your forehead, the way you kept smiling as the pleasure took its hold.

he was dizzy, utterly ruined as he fucked you. your touch left him weak, oblivious to anything else. it didn’t matter what happened after this, he would never regret it, no matter how dire the consequences. you were heavenly around him, squeezing him so tight as you had your way with him. he was teetering on the edge, on the verge of a beautiful collapse, but all that mattered was you.

lando rutted his hips, watching your body spasm as he hit that spot over and over, his fingers sliding between your sweat dampened bodies to find your overstimulated clit. a few messy circles and you’d had it, a broken scream of his name tearing from the back of your throat.

his name. no one else’s.

that was enough for lando, all he needed to hear to send him catapulting into the abyss, vision bright white as he collapsed on top of you. he could feel you shuddering, kissing your neck to try and dull the aftershocks.

you stayed there entangled for god knows how long, unmoving in one another’s embrace. you were so warm against him that lando couldn’t bring himself to move. it was serene, the peace of having you beneath him, wrapped around him, stroking his hair lazily while he panted into the crook of your neck. the peace of knowing that he wouldn’t need to sneak away at the break of dawn. when he eventually mustered the strength to pull himself away, you whined.

“where are you going?” you groaned, as he stood from the bed.

“just getting something to clean you up, baby.” lando replied, slipping into the en-suite.

he returned a few moments later with a flannel, wiping over your thighs before tossing it with his laundry. lando quickly pulled the covers back, climbing into the bed beside you. you rolled over, draping yourself over his chest, his arm winding around your shoulders securely.

“stay tonight.” lando whispered. it wasn’t a question, nor was it a demand. it was his way of pleading, of keeping you close for as long as he could. he felt you nod your head in agreement.

“didn’t wanna go anyway.” you giggled, eyes still shut. you could have easily fallen asleep.

“don’t want you to go. don’t want to lose you again.” lando mumbled. he felt you tense up. you weren’t laughing anymore.

“don’t get my hopes up.” you whispered back, burying your face in his chest, as if you were hiding from him. the cracks in his heart that your evening together had bandaged up began to splinter.

“i’ll fix this. we can fix it.” lando affirmed, begging that you’d listen. all the time spent with you reminded him that without you, he was miserable.

“i wish that was true.” you sighed. he clung on to the fact that you were still here. he could convince you, he was sure of it.

“i’ll deal with him. he has to understand.” lando alluded, cupping your cheek.

“lando, stop-“ you argued.

“please, just let me try. i want you. fuck, i need you.” he really, really did. you seemed to soften at that, frustrated expression melting away.

you craned your neck, leaning up to peck his lips. all of his worries dissipated then, and he knew that he belonged to you. lando knew that this was it, that you and him were headed somewhere. it was good, this thing between you, feelings that he’d never felt, that he didn’t even have labels for, surfacing at even the briefest glance, the softest touch.

as you fell asleep in his arms to soft kisses on your forehead, lando laid there staring at the ceiling. he’d just betrayed his best friend. again. but that wasn’t what was keeping him from falling asleep.

no, what was keeping lando awake was the fact that he simply didn’t care; how could he with you sleeping so soundly next to him? and that scared him more than anything else. as far as lando was concerned, max had his chance, and he blew it. lando would be damned if he made the same mistake.

the things you did to him, the hold you had, it was almost frightening. and with every deep breath you took, he fell deeper and deeper.

when he woke up to your body pressed against his, feeling more refreshed than he had since august, lando smiled. he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and you had him smiling. what kind of fool did that make him?

your catlike stretching and urgent need for coffee had driven the pair of you out of bed, despite how much lando hated the stuff and the both of you wanting to spend the morning tearing one another to shreds. you figured you had the rest of the day to get to that. you’d laughed as he threw his shirt at you, the sleeves too long. it hit mid thigh, the pair of you ignoring the creases as lando pulled you into him, rolling up the sleeves. he smirked at the goosebumps that littered your skin, left behind in the wake of his touch. you shoved his shoulder at his cocky smile.

lando made you a coffee, all of that work experience at mclaren finally paying off as he slid it across the counter towards you. you smiled, grateful, taking a sip. he pottered around the kitchen for a while, mumbling something about not knowing how to cook without setting the kitchen on fire. you were endeared as you watched him, leaning across the counter, resting your elbows on the surface. it was domestic and it was a long time coming.

neither of you wanted it to end, but you knew that important steps needed to be taken. lando was already mapping out the blueprints for what he would say to max, willing to grovel on his knees if that’s what it took.

it was lucky that lando was so accustomed to quick thinking, because the sound of keys in the lock made him realise that the grovelling would be starting a lot sooner than anticipated. there was only one other person with a set of keys. you know, for emergencies. lando was pretty certain that there was about to be an emergency.

your heart plummeted as the door swung open, the dress shirt hanging loosely off of your body doing little to preserve anyones dignity. max’s face fell immediately, the cogs in his brain spinning into action as he took in the disheartening sight before him.

hickeys, bare legs and messy hair. a train wreck.

this was becoming an unfortunate habit.

sorry max lol

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppetangelika @wmaximoffz @starlightoctavia @japanesekel @stardustinggold @vinvantae @chaoticallypan @ashleyo1611 @ggaslyp1 @poofy-baby-unicorns @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @lees0015 @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @1missglum1 @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @shinydragondelusion @alexk2002 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @f-1-fan @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @monte-carlando @f1thirsttraps @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @tony-stank3 @maih23 @georgeitsjames @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @running-colourful @anthonykatebridgerton @cara1111

1K notes · View notes

shuttershocky · 3 months

Note

Apologies for asking a wuestion related to your work, but do you have any recommendations for learning to write game scripts?

Let me preface this by saying I am nowhere near the likes of an AAA game writer and such, this is just from my own gut.

Learn to write barks and learn to write tutorials.

All the usual stuff like "you have to read a lot to write well" and "Read your writing out loud because it's definitely going to be different from how it reads in your head" still apply, but when you write for video games specifically you are going to have tasks other mediums don't. For example, you will have to write a guy saying "grenade out!" 15 different times, and you got to vary it up so the player doesn't get bored, while trying to inject whatever personality you can into a 5 word line so everyone throwing grenades doesn't blend together.

This can be especially difficult when you have to write dialogue where a character isn't speaking as a character, but as a puppet for the gamedevs to give you instructions, hints, tutorials, whatever. It is annoying as shit to write and to hear (and probably to act), but you gotta do it, and your job as a writer is to make it as natural sounding as possible because one of your players is inevitably going to get stuck somewhere and it's better for them to hear a clue from an ally in-game than from a tutorial pop-up saying Square key goes into the square hole, dumbass.

These challenges can be harder than they look, especially when you are often given little to go on (consider yourself lucky if you get detailed character profiles, video recordings about what exactly an in-game puzzle looks like, etc), so do your best.

____

One last thing and this is very important, if you're a writer brought on to make the script from the very beginning, please for the love of god, include who is actually speaking in a line and arrange this by in-game levels or chapters or whatever. I'm not saying this because of the infamous incident where Elder Scrolls VAs were given their lines in alphabetical order, I'm saying this because I've been given scripts that were just a single excel sheet with lines from the game's beginning to the end, with no detail on who is speaking what line nor where in the game it's happening nor what the context even is. And yes, sometimes they weren't even in chronological order.

if you write such a script, know that it makes editing impossible, it makes localization impossible, and even if you're the guy that wrote the whole thing you WILL forget your own details with a large enough script so it makes fixing it yourself impossible. Save everyone and yourself the trouble; write it in a format that's actually readable.

59 notes · View notes

heavyhitterheaux · 2 years

Text

Sex Lies (NSFW 18+)

A First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: You know it's a vibe 😏

Synopsis: You and your husband write and record your song Sex Lies for your debut album

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Requested by: my honey bun @arination99 💕😘

Do Not Engage If You Are Not 18+

"Babeee! Come on and stop playin!"

You were frustrated with your husband since he kept distracting you while you were in the studio trying to finish writing and recording songs for your debut album.

"I'm not even doing anything!" Jack responded as he was occupied with placing kisses along your neck.

"You are literally doing everything EXCEPT helping me write this."

"Then stop teasing me all the time."

"Sir, I am literally just sitting here."

"Yeah, sitting there in some tiny ass shorts that I can practically see your pussy through. Don't nobody need to be seeing that shit but me."

"We are literally the only two people in the studio right now."

"Lemme eat you out real quick. I'm hungry."

"JACKKKK!"

"That's what you'll be screaming in about two minutes."

"Baby, I have an idea."

"Does it involve me getting my dick wet or your pussy on my tongue? Because if it does I'm all ears."

"Babe...."

"Okay, okay. I'll be serious."

"Impossible because you so damn childish."

"Just lemme slide the shorts to the side."

"You keep this shit up and I won't give you any for a week. Now write a damn verse for this."

You handed him your notebook full of lyrics and Jack saw that the song you were working on was entitled Sex Lies.

"Now I'm already horny as hell and now you want me to write a verse for a song called Sex Lies?"

"If you write it and I like it, you can eat me out."

"Right here?"

"Yes"

"Right now?"

"Yes"

"Hand me a pen mamas."

As Jack was writing his verse, you were trying to think of another verse to add on after his and then the song would be complete. He actually sat there quiet and let you focus on the task at hand.

"Baby..."

"Yes, my love."

"I'm finished. You wanna look at it?"

"Jack, it's only been ten minutes."

"I know and this shit is fire."

"I'll be the judge of that. Hand it here."

Jack slid the notebook over to you and you began to look over his verse all for there to be an increase in wetness in between your thighs.

"You okay over there mamas? You look a little hot and bothered."

"Why do you say that? I’m fine."

"Your nipples instantly got hard when you started reading so I already know you probably wet as hell."

"Jack...."

"Hmm?"

"Shut up and let me finish reading."

"I'm just trying to be a good husband and offer my services to my wife."

Jack then picked you up to sit on his lap and began kissing your neck once more earning a moan from you leaving the notebook forgotten.

"Hmm, looks like it's not just me. You want this as bad as I do, don't you baby?"

"Fuck you."

"And that's what I plan on doing."

Jack then slid his hand into your shorts all to notice you weren't wearing any panties and began rubbing small circles on your clit and you felt the coolness of his Private Garden ring.

Your breath hitched in your throat as Jack was trying to keep you in place with his other hand because knowing how you get, both of you would have ended up on the floor.

You were known for squirming and trying to run away, but he wasn't having it.

"Babe...."

"Now I now you didn't leave the house with no panties on. What do you have to say for yourself? And you know better, what's my name?"

"Daddy and nothing because I'd do it again."

"So you out here in these streets acting like a little slut?"

"No." You whimpered as Jack's motions were becoming faster before he slipped two fingers into you and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

"But, I think you are."

"Only... for.... you... fuckkkk I'm about to cum."

"Just for me huh? You remember in Miami when I had you bent over the balcony railing?"

"Mm yesss."

"You took me so well, baby. And I got to let everyone know how much of a little slut you are."

Jack then added another finger before moving them in and out of you at an even faster pace.

"JACKKKK!"

"And there it is. I told you that you would be screaming my name. Come on baby, let go. You look so pretty when I make you cum."

You released all over his fingers and moaned at the sight of him licking them.

You then let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding as Jack picked you up and sat you back down in the chair he was once sitting in while dropping to his knees and spreading your thighs apart.

"Babe.."

"You said I could eat you out if I wrote the verse did you not?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then shut your ass up and let me enjoy my meal."

Jack slid your shorts to the side and took a second to take in the sight that was in front of him.

"Shit, mamas. It's like Niagara Falls down here. You tryna drown me?"

"Baby, will you hurry up?"

"I literally just made you cum less than a minute ago. Be patient otherwise I will let your ass stay horny. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"That's what I fucking thought. Keep them legs spread."

Jack first started out by kissing along both of your thighs and you were growing impatient and let out a groan making him stop.

"Does Mrs. Harlow have something she would like to share with me?"

You quickly shook your head no and Jack's curly head of hair dived in between your thighs with his beard tickling you. A sensation that you had grew to love.

With lapping at your folds and inserting four fingers this time you just knew you were about to lose it. You quickly inserted your hands into his curly hair to pull him in closer.

“Ohhhh shiiiit, babeeee!!”

“Wrong name.”

“Fuck, daddy.”

You came once again and Jack was not trying to show you any mercy and dove right back in.

“Wait, hold on...”

“Nuh uh you begged me for this shit and now you want me to wait?”

Just then you were interrupted by the door opening, however this just made Jack hold onto your legs tighter making you whimper and impossible for you to push him off of you.

“I’m back with food... and Druski.”

“Jackkk”

“Wait one got damn minute?! Y/N!! Jack!!” Druski exclaimed at the sight in front of him.

There wasn’t much they could see since your back was turned, but one thing was clear.

Your husband was in between your legs.

“That’s what Mrs. Harlow just said.”

“Can yall not keep your hands off each other for AN HOUR? I only went to get food!”

Urban.

“We’re about to be done in 3...”

“Shiiitt....”

“2...”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckkkkkk.”

“1.”

“You.get.on.my.nerves.”

“Hmm, is that how you treat your man after I made you cum three times?”

“Jack, get your ass up off the floor. Hi Y/N.”

“Why? It’s my favorite place to be.”

“Hi, this will be the first time and the LAST you will ever see that.”

“Jack, I can see that, but you have company now and Y/N, is that how you treat your guest?”

“Yes, she does. She know I don’t share. Once in a lifetime thing for you.”

“Excuse me. Anyway, did yall finish the song?”

“Yes, just have to record my verse.”

“Drive her crazy when I talk when we fuckin'

But it's crazy 'cause if I ain't have nothin', we wouldn't be talkin' or fuckin'

I bust a nut, and that's the end of discussion

I fuck you like it was our last time, I know it's lust, I don't say that I love you (love you)

I might just whisper in your ear and tell you nobody gon' fuck you like me

Then she turn around, she look back up like I'ma make you wife me

I push on her legs, I go in deep and I she don't even fight it

I won't stop until we reach the climax, I'ma keep on climbing

Look me in my eyes and say it's mine, but I just know she lying

Always on the grind, I don't have time for no wine and dining

And I can find another you before you can go find a dime

And you gon' make that pussy cum for daddy is my favorite line “

“WELL SHIT! I see why we walked in and saw what we saw.”

“Damn, say that last line again for me daddy.”

“NO, DO NOT. We don’t need another show. One was enough.” Urban replied while rolling his eyes.

“Speak for yourself!” Druski exclaimed from his spot on the couch next to Urban.

Jack smirked before coming over to where you were sitting and bent down to whisper into your ear.

“And you gon’ make that pussy cum for daddy.”

“Aye! Cut that whispering shit out. Horny asses.”

“Stop being a hater, Urb!” Jack teased as he rolled his eyes while you hugged him from the side.

“We have to get him a girl.”

“Yeah, because right now he’s married to Mary Jane.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@laylasbunbunny

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinadolans

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jacksmoviestar

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@jackharlowsbabe

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

#jack harlow #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow concept #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #Spotify

715 notes · View notes