#can’t tell if they’d be besties | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sykostyles · 1 month

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subject to change 1.1 (final)

w/c: 6.3k summary: in which Harry gets his head out of his ass and goes after y/n. but is he too late? part one

a/n: hi again! thank you all for the love on part one to this story! I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means to me! I hope you all enjoy this part just as much!

cw: PLEASE LOOK HERE BEFORE YOU READ! impact play, breath play if you squint, general rough sex, implied cheating (no actual cheating takes place), breeding kink, creampie, anal play (he puts his thumb in her ass lol), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up, besties) general manhandling. If I forgot anything pls let me know!

Harry did care. He cared a lot. But he knew you were angry and he let you go. It was the best option. At least that’s what he told himself. He would just live the rest of his life with this empty feeling in his chest. He’d live with the pain of constantly having to see your name when his customers would buy your books. He’d smile and continue to recommend your books to people looking for something ‘extra spicy’ as they’d put it. They’d always come back in a few days to get another one of your books.

He never did take your titles off of his Owner’s Picks shelf.

Sometimes Harry swore he could hear your giggles at the front of his store when he was helping a customer find something near the back. “Excuse me, just one second,” he’d mutter to the customer before hastily making his way up front to be met with nobody. He thought he was losing it. He knows he heard it. He wishes he’d heard it. He’d make his way back to the customer, breathing out some excuse and getting back to finding the book they were looking for.

You even haunted him in his dreams. He could feel the way your skin dipped and curved as he ran his hands over the sweat slicked skin. Feel the way your warm walls engulfed his length; sinking further and further under your spell. Hear the way you cried his honorific and begged him to let you cum; begged for more, Until the blaring of his alarm would snap him back to reality and he’d be left to take care of what dream you left behind.

It’d been six months of this constant brooding attitude he’d have whenever he thought of you. Harry hadn’t been able to sleep with anybody else. Just finding solace in fucking his fist, and wishing it was you. Oh but he tried though. A few women at the bar, or a pretty customer he thought looked like you. But they weren’t you, were they? He’d gotten drunk off of the way your body felt under his touch, and it’s like he’s been hungover ever since. Often he found himself looking at your social media, scrolling through all the pretty pictures you’d post. Pictures of your apartment, your cat, your family. Pictures with Chase? Who was Chase? Pictures with your friends. He’d take note of all the cities you’d been to since he saw you.

Oh, a new post.

You were apparently going to be about an hour away from him next week.

Interesting.

Every city you traveled to, there were more and more people waiting to meet you. You couldn’t believe it. Flattered doesn’t even begin to describe what you felt. So many stories of how you saved people's relationships after they read your books. Their sex lives with their partners had been so boring but after they’d read your books, they’d found new inspiration to spice things up. Every time someone told you a new story you were dumbfounded. Still finding it so hard to believe that anybody even found your books interesting, let alone liked them enough to take time out of their day to come and meet you and have you sign their book.

You’d tried to move on from Harry. A few casual hook ups, and a short term boyfriend, Chase, that lasted all of two and a half months. Said boyfriend looked at you like you had two heads when you asked him to choke you during sex so you weren’t sure why you thought it would last.

You would find yourself daydreaming; frothing at the mouth thinking of all the dirty things Harry had done to you. You’d grip the front of your sink in the morning, head hanging near your chest while you thought about Harry’s cock splitting you open; his fingertips colliding with your cheek while he called you his dirty little slut, all while Chase was in the shower, a wave of guilt washing over you for imagining these things while your boyfriend was two feet away from you. Oh, how you wished you could experience those things again.

You were right though, you’d gotten plenty of fuel for your next book. The follow up to Little Freak was scheduled to be released at the end of the year, just in time for holiday sales. Jenny was thrilled. You thought you would be. But you just felt empty. You always felt worse when you’d snap out of it, staring at yourself in the mirror with annoyance for yourself written all over your face.

“You look sick, babe. You alright?” Chase would ask, stepping out of the shower. “You look a little flushed,” The back of his hand coming in contact with your forehead. He was super sweet after all.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just warm in here from the steam,” you’d wave him off, pressing a kiss to his lips and offering him a smile.

Chase broke it off with you last week saying he couldn't give you what you wanted. You knew that, but didn't have the heart to break it to him first. He seemed a little fragile, if you know what I mean. So you pretended to be sad until he left your apartment and then you had a laugh before making a post announcing the next city for your signing tour.

Jenny booked you a hotel, even though the bookstore you were going to be at was only about an hour away. But riding back in the car for an hour sounded pretty awful so you didn’t put up a fight.

The owner of this store was so excited for your event. She walked up and down the line thanking everyone for showing up, and reminded all of them of the snacks and refreshments she’d set out. She was a doll, continuously asking if you needed anything. Always giving you a smile and a “Just holler at me if you need anything, dear!”

About an hour in, a pair of eyes caught your attention. You’d know those eyes anywhere. He was about four people behind the person you were talking to. Standing there, book in hand with that sweet smile on his face. His eyes bore into yours. Your breath caught in your throat, your face turned pink and your hands immediately felt clammy. The person in front of you snaps you out of your trance and you direct your attention back to them, acting as if nothing happened.

“This book literally brought life back to my relationship. We had no idea what we were missing out on!” She exclaimed, “My husband sends his thanks as well,” she giggles out.

“I’m so glad you guys enjoyed it. Hopefully you’ll like the next one too. Thank you so much for coming!” You hand the book back to her with a smile. She thanks you and is on her way. The next few people are the same. It never got old though; hearing how your books positively impacted others. Whether they found out they liked something they never heard of, or if it gave them the courage to spice up their love lives.

Harry studied you as you interacted with your readers. How genuinely happy you looked to be talking to these people. The smile on your face that he’d only seen in his dreams over the last six months. The crinkle you got near your eyes when you laughed. That giggle. He was addicted. He needed to hear it every day. He’d do anything. That’s why he’s standing here right now in front of you with your book in his hand.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you say back to him. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he hands the book over to you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Cut the crap, Harry. What are you doing here?” taking the book, you scrawl your signature on the cover page.

“Can we talk?” he looks at you with pleading eyes. You glance up at him, holding the book back out to him.

“I don’t know, Harry,” looking away, you fumble with the permanent marker between your fingers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, sweets. Just wanna talk,” He smiles down at you. Meeting his eyes again, your gaze hardens. There’s no way he just wants to talk. You’re not totally stupid, but you’ll humor him.

“Fine. Just to talk,” you wave your hand in the air, “Just wait in the seating area.”

He smiles at you again. “Thank you.”

Walking into your hotel room with Harry in tow, you wonder just how stupid you are. What are you doing? Is this smart? Probably not. Do you care? Also probably not.

“What are you actually doing here, Harry,” you ask, sitting on the end of the bed to take your shoes off.

“Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to see you?” his voice was quiet and smooth, nothing like it was in the bookstore earlier. He’s standing there with his hands in his pockets as he watches you.

“Not even a little bit,” you scoffed with a laugh, tossing your shoes to the side before leaning back on your hands.

“Well, it’s the truth.” His gaze remained unwavering.

You were born at night, but not last night.

“You’re such a liar,” you laugh, “You’re going to stand there and tell me that you drove an hour just to see me?”

“I missed you.” he breathes out. You just stare at him with widened eyes, and he stares right back. Emerald eyes, rather sunken and tired looking, just keep staring back at you.

“How dare you,” you stand from the edge of the bed, finger pointed into his chest. His eyes widen at your demeanor. “You don’t get to do that. You said this was a one time thing. You told me multiple times that it was a one time thing.” You continue walking towards him, him taking a step back with every forward step you take. “So, what exactly do you want, Harry? You came all the way here just to tell me you missed me? When was it you who put that rule in place?” His back hits your hotel room door. “Am i just a good fuck you can’t get out of your head or what?”

“N-no, you’re,” he pauses, “you’re everything. And I’m just an idiot who can’t talk about his feelings.”

“Please, you told me yourself that you don’t do ‘feelings’. So do me a favor and tell me what it is you really want.”

“I want you,” he says softly, looking at your lips. Not even an ounce of hesitation floods his system when he reaches out with both hands to cup your face, and finally presses his lips to yours for the first time. You gasp, but kiss him back anyways; Your hands finding a soft grip on his wrists. It’s everything. The way his soft lips perfectly mold with yours. All of the built up emotions he’d been shoving down the last half a year showed themselves in that kiss. He bore his soul to you in that kiss. His tongue swipes at your lower lip, but that’s when you pull away.

“No, Harry,” you rush out, “Y-you’re too late,” you pull his hands from your face, and start to turn away when he grabs ahold of your upper arm, spinning you back towards him.

“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” he bites out, tone no longer soft. “I saw the look on your face when you noticed I was there tonight.”

“I-I have a boyfriend,” you lie, thinking you could use Chase as an escape route. Sure, he broke up with you about a week ago but Harry doesn’t need to know that. “You’re too late, Harry.” He studies you for a moment. The tremble in your upper lip from fighting off a grin. The telling glint in your eyes. The way you won’t look him in the eye.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?” Both of his hands grip your arms as he slowly walks you backwards.

“I’m n-not lying. I have a boyfriend. His name is Chase.” You almost stumble over your own feet, but his grip on your arms keeps you standing. Ah, Chase.

“Right,” he mocks you, “and does ‘Chase’ make you tremble and break like I did?” He leans down near your ear. “Does he make you beg and cry for it like I did? Does he make you cum so hard you see stars like I did? Hm?” His warm breath tickles the skin of your throat. Harry sweeps your hair away from your neck before latching his teeth onto your pulse point, making you gasp. You feel your legs bump against the edge of the bed, your fists take hold of his sweater to keep you standing.

“Harry, I can’t,” you groan. You want to; more than anything, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. He grins against your skin, swiping his tongue over the bite mark he left behind.

“Your body says otherwise, sweets,” he says, bringing his face to be level with yours, “Tell me to stop,” he slips a hand under your skirt, teasing his fingertips along your inner thigh. Your breath is caught in your throat. “C’mon, tell me to stop,” he plucks the hem of your underwear right near where you want him most. His lips finding your skin again; featherlight kisses being pressed up and down the column of your throat. You tilt your head back to give him more room.

“H-harry, please,” you whine, your hands reach up to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Please what?” he whispers against your throat, biting down again, eliciting a groan from your lips.

“P-please, t-touch me.”

“Thought you said you had a boyfriend?” He grins, tilting your chin down to look into your eyes. The hand that’s been under your skirt takes hold of the front of your panties and pulls you forward, making you lose your footing and sending you backwards onto the bed. Harry presses one knee onto the mattress, fingers still holding your panties, as he leans over you.

“T-that’s su–subject to change,” you try to pull him down by the nape of his neck to kiss him again, but he doesn’t budge, one arm anchored near your head.

Instead, with a flick of his wrist he’s pulling your panties down your legs. Bringing them up to eye level, he smirks at the wet patch evident on the front of them.

“Is it now?” His salacious eyes look at you from above. You nod in response, making Harry chuckle. “So, are you going to admit that you were lying to me?” He tosses your panties to the side before bracing his other arm on the other side of you.

You shake your head, a mischievous smile forming on your pouty lips. You run your hands under his sweater up his torso, relishing in the warm feeling under your fingertips. He never let you touch him last time, but he wasn’t about to stop you now. He’d die a happy man after knowing what your skin felt like against his. The way your body reacted to every little touch he offered. Sure, he felt you last time, but not like this.

“You’re just going to make it worse for yourself, sweets,” Harry grins down at you.

“Maybe that’s what I want,” your hands stop their exploration and cup the sides of his face, your thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones. “I do have a boyfriend, but he’s not you,” you whisper. Knowing that Chase isn’t your boyfriend anymore.

“Such a naughty girl,” He leans down to kiss you, your hold moving up and tangling in his curls. You moan into his mouth when you feel the tips of his fingers come in contact with your cunt; he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny he could find before he pulls away, chuckling at your blown out pupils. “Does Chase take care of you like I did?”

“N-no,” a whine leaves you at the loss of contact, “He won’t even choke me,” you pull him back down to your mouth, hooking your right leg around his waist to bring his weight on top of yours.

He pulls away—“Sounds like a pussy”—before kissing you once again. Lips moving in sync; your whines and whimpers being stolen from you by the greedy man above you. His fingers finally make contact with where you need him most; dipping two inside your warmth to prod at the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back.

“Haah, you have—ff—fuck, r-right there—no idea.” Your skin already feels like it’s on fire. Your body reacts to his every touch; craving more and more at every turn. Harry would give you anything you wanted if you’d asked for it.

“Mm, you probably feel so needy right now, huh?” he chuckles, bringing his free hand up to firmly grasp your throat. The mischievous glint forming in your eyes again, his favorite smile etched onto your lips. He finally put your favorite necklace back in its rightful place.

“Uhuh, please. Need you so bad,” His thumb begins rubbing slow circles on your clit; your teeth take hold of your bottom lip as you look at him with blown out eyes, silently begging for more.

“Yeah?” He’s enthralled by your eagerness. The most genuine smile he’s ever been able to muster forms on his lips. You’ve successfully turned this man into mush without even trying. He’d burn the whole world down for you if it meant you’d look at him like that. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

You nod.

“Forever this time?” he’s searching your eyes for any ounce of hesitation. Every feeling he ever felt for you shined bright in the emerald orbs before you.

You smile.

Big.

“Y-yes, Sir,” leaves your lips in the form of a salacious whisper.

“I can be Sir any other time, I just want to be Harry for you right now, sweets,” he retracts his hand from between your legs, bringing it to face level. His eyes never leave yours as he swipes his tongue over his fingers, licking up every ounce of your arousal; his other hand never leaving your throat, rubbing his thumb over your pulse point. Your mouth waters at the sight. He’s so dirty; and you love it.

You nod frantically in his hold. “H-Harry please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, you just want him.

“Gonna give you what you want–what you need–baby,” he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before taking a hold of your hip with his free hand and flipping the two of you over so you were straddling his waist. Sliding his hand that’s around your throat to the nape of your neck to kiss you deeply. He sits up with you, bringing his hands down to the hem of your shirt, sliding his warm hands over the expanse of your hips, trailing up to grope your breasts; his lips still moving perfectly in sync with yours. “C-can i take this off?”

“Please,” a whine leaves your lips. Your arms raise up as he slides your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side. He eyes your chest; placing kisses all over. Reaching behind you, unclasping your bra as it finds the same fate as your shirt. His mouth latches on to your left breast, rolling his tongue over the perked bud. You throw your head back, arms draped around his neck as you grind your bare cunt into his very evident bulge; reveling in the friction against your clit.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to lose my shit,” he growls, taking your other breast into his mouth.

“Do your worst,” you whisper into his ear, sliding your hands under his sweater, pulling it over his head to join the other pieces of clothing on the floor. You stand from his lap before he’s able to react. Slipping your fingers into the waistband of your skirt, you shimmy it down your hips and thighs, giving him a little show. He watches on with lustful eyes.

He reaches for his belt, pulling it from the loops of his jeans. “You gonna tie me up again, Harry? Hm?” you tease him, opening the button of his jeans.

“No, baby. Wanna feel your hands all over me this time,” he tosses the belt to the side, standing from the bed, he cups the sides of your face, pulling you to him once again. Your hands still working his zipper, pushing his jeans down.

“Then allow me,” you whisper. Reaching to pull his hands from your face, dropping them to his sides. Slowly sinking to your knees, placing open mouthed kisses to his skin as you traveled south. You feel his abdomen contract at the light touch, making you smirk against his skin before swiping your tongue over the surface, making the man above you audibly whimper.

“D-don’t tease, sweets.”

You chuckle, pulling his jeans all the way down, he kicks them to the side. Harry slides his boxers off, not wanting to waste anymore time, much to your dismay. You roll your eyes, but your attitude disappears once his cock springs up and you catch a glimpse of his reddened tip, just begging for your attention.

“Sit,” you whisper, running your fingertips up his legs, tracing over the tiger tattoo on his thigh; placing a kiss on its nose after he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Anything you want, baby,” he reaches to cradle your face, but you dodge his reach. He looks at you quizzically.

“No touching,” rolls off your tongue. You watch his eyes darken as that famous smile forms.

“Oh, you want to play like that?” he leans back on his hands, as you nod. Your hands wrapping around the base of his cock, making him suck a breath through his teeth.

“Wanna see how long you can last without touching me,” you say before you spit onto his tip, smearing it with the precum along his length. Engulfing him in your mouth, swirling your tongue over his tip; running it up and down the prominent vein along the underside. Harry’s eyes roll into the back of his head when you pass the tip of your tongue over the tip of his cock.

“F–Fuck, sweets, that’s s–so go–ood,” his hands fist in the comforter, just itching to grasp into your hair to guide you how he wanted you. But he was enjoying letting you have your fun. You hum after sinking him to the back of your throat; working him up and up and up. “Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m gon–” you reach up, to fondle his balls, giving them a firm squeeze. His hands shoot up; pulling you off of his cock. “Unless you want me to cum down your throat, you’d better stop now,” he warns you, letting you go. You shake your head.

“Fuck my throat, Harry,” you groan. “Gimme your cum,” your tongue lulls out as you put your mouth on him again.

“You want my help now?” he questions, swiping your hair out of your eyes. You hum an ‘mhm’ around his cock. You pull off for a second—”You already lost, so just fuck my throat already”—before sinking your mouth back onto him. A groan erupts from deep in his chest; he stands slightly, gripping underneath your chin with one hand, and cradles the back of your head with the other, “Breathe through that nose, baby,” he says before nestling your nose against his happy trail; holding you there for a few seconds before pulling back just enough to hear the slick sounds of spit leaving your lips and then diving back in. Rocking his hips back and forth; his balls slapping your chin with every thrust. Your eyes watering, mascara bleeding onto your cheeks. He pulls you off, letting you catch your breath. “Color?” he asks, leaning down by your face.

“G-green,” you choke out, a sadistic grin forming on your lips.

“My filthy girl,” he smiles down at you. Tapping your cheek, signaling you to open, Harry spits onto your tongue, colliding his fingertips with the surface of your cheek before sliding his cock back into your mouth. You groan at the impact on your cheek. “Still want my cum in your throat? Blink once for yes and two for no, sweets,” he grins down at you. You blink once in response. “Alright, baby” he speeds up his hips, the tip of his cock prodding at the back of your throat with every thrust. You gag, but he presses on emptying himself deep inside. Moans and cries of your name leave his lips as he squeezes every last drop into your mouth onto your tongue. You swallow and cough as he pulls himself out, catching your breath. He reaches down, pulling you up under your arms to stand with him. Swiping his hands over your hips and lower back; he pulls you to straddle his lap on the bed once again. “Such a pretty girl, looking a mess for me,” he praises, swiping a thumb across your cheek wiping some of the tears and drool away. “Missed you like this. Missed you in general,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours, tasting himself on your tongue.

“I missed you too,” you whisper against his lips, pressing your lips back together. He grins against your mouth.

“Couldn’t have missed me too much,” he chastises you, “How many guys did you try to look for me in?” he questions, flipping the two of you over, standing between your legs and leaning over you. “Hm? How many guys did you try to let have what's mine?” One of his hands swipes those two fingers through your folds.

“J-just f-four,” you moan at the contact. “Promise, I missed you,” you try to pull him down to you, but he remains like a statue, staring at you from above. “Please, kiss me, Harry,” you plead with him.

“Mm, just four,” he mutters. “Gonna give me four orgasms to make it up to me?” he nods his head at you, grabbing your chin to nod your head for you; he smiles at the look of panic in your eyes. “Say, ‘Yes, Harry’ if you understand, baby,” he says, placing a kiss on your nose.

“Y-yes, Harry,” you whisper. Smiling before pulling his lips to yours. He trails his kisses down the expanse of your chest, teasing his tongue on your skin with every kiss. You’re a whimpering mess beneath his touch. Reacting to every pass of his hands over your sweat-slicked skin. Harry settles on his knees between your legs, sligning your knees over his shoulders.

“Still green?” he asks, breath fanning over your cunt.

“Uhuh,” you whine. “So green.”

Harry dives right in, swiping his tongue over your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking, lightly crazing his teeth over the nub; making your hips jerk in response. One of his hands slides up to firmly hold your hips in place against the mattress.

“Oh, fuck, Harry,” you gasp as a finger enters your heat, giving you that delicious curl that only he could achieve. Your fingers weave into his curls, tugging at the roots.

“Mm, baby. Keep pulling on it,” he moans against your pussy. “Make it hurt,” he whines. Tongue fucking you as deep as he could and his nose constantly bumping up with your clit has your senses turning all the lights in the house on, plus his finger poking at your g spot has you cumming without warning. Clutching onto his curls for dear life as your body convulses under his mouth.

“Gimme all of it, baby. Soak my face,” he says, continuing his ministrations. Your clit throbs under his tongue, sending shockwaves through your body.

“T–too much, Harry, oh god. Too much!” He slaps down on your thigh as a warning.

“Shut up, and take it for me like the good girl I know you can be f’me,” his thumb pressing on your clit, sending you into your second orgasm only a minute and a half after your first one. “Good,” he praises you. “Very good, baby.” His fingers continue working you through your trembling state; bringing you back down to earth; just for him to send you back into outer space once he deemed you ready for takeoff. “How are you feeling, sweets?” He slides your legs off of his shoulders, then standing to lean over you again.

“So fucking good, Harry,” you moan out, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. He leans into your touch laying his body weight on top of yours. One of his hands comes up to cradle your face, swiping his thumb over the apple of your cheek before kissing you hard. Tasting yourself on someone else’s tongue has never tasted so good. He moans into your mouth, swiping his cock through your folds.

“Good,” he smiles down at you. You hike your leg up around his hip, tugging him as close to you as possible as he pushes inside. A delicious stretch that you’ve missed terribly. None of those boys you’d attempted to forget Harry with could ever compare to this here and now. He swallows the moans you let escape; sliding his other hand down to grip the sides of your throat, making you whimper. “Take it,” he growls, “Take it all.”

“Hgnh, Harry. It–it’s–” your moans take over before you’re able to finish your sentence. But Harry knew.

“Know it is, baby. But you love it.” He grins, covering your mouth with his to pull your tongue into his mouth. Stilling his hips once he’s at full hilt, surveying your body's responses to the stretch. Pulling your other leg up over his hip, you silently beg him to move. Harry begins rocking his hips back and forth, stealing every one of your whimpers and cries of pleasure. Your nails leaving scratches along his back. Harry reaches one arm under your lower back, lifting your hips slightly, getting a different angle. Your head tilts back, he takes the opportunity to attach his teeth to your throat, eliciting a deep groan from you.

But he’s not satisfied yet. He stands, still inside you; grabbing ahold of behind both of your knees and pressing them to your chest, he pistons himself into your cunt; turning you into a whimpering mess. “Fuck, sweets, this pussy fe–eels so go–od.” He groans, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. The angle making your eyes cross; lulling your tongue out he offers you a wad of spit, adding two fingers. “Suck,” and you do. Taking them into your mouth; swirling your tongue around. His other hand sliding down to rub fast circles on your clit, making you gasp. Accepting the opportunity, he pushes his fingers further into your throat making you gag. “Hm, very good, baby,” he smiles at you, retracting his fingers; offering you a slap across your cheek. You smile up at him. “Dirty girl, just wants to be manhandled. Poor thing’s been neglected, huh?” You nod.

He speeds up his fingers, ignoring your protests of too much. He reminds you that you know what words to use if you really want him to stop. “Gonna cum, pretty?”

“Uhuh uhuh,” you whine, “hurts, Harry.”

“Know it does, pretty. But you’ll take it f’me won’t you?” he coos at you. You nod frantically in response, your arms anchoring around his neck and pulling him to you. “Yeah you will.”

“G’na cum, Harry,” you tuck your face into his throat, peppering kisses all over the surface in attempt to ground yourself.

“Cum all over me, pretty girl. Give it to me,” he whispers in your ear. Your body contracts against his, he anchors one hand to your hip, forcing you to remain in place and accept the assault on your bundle of nerves from his other hand.

“H-Harry, please, please please,” whines leave your spit slicked lips, and he just coos you to be quiet.

“Shh, baby. Just take it f’me.” his fingers speed up just a little bit more, as do your whines. “Now, now, do I need to silence you? You were doing so good, baby,” he says, colliding his fingertips with your cheek once again, making you go quiet. You shake your head ‘No’. He takes hold of your face, covering your mouth with his hand as he looks down into your eyes. “Then give me another, right now,” he demands, stilling his hips against yours but continuing to spell his name over your bundle of nerves over and over and over again.

“F–fuck, Harry,” your body works into overdrive as you hit the peak of the mountain again; toppling over the edge of pleasure and coming down fast, headed right for rock bottom but not before Harry swiftly pulls himself out of you, and flipping you over onto your tummy. You gasp in surprise. He enters you again from behind, you reach back to grasp his hip, attempting to push him back.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m not done with you yet,” he growls in your ear. Grasping both of your arms, he folds them against your lower back in one hand.

“Y-you said, f-four,” you whine into the comforter.

“Did I?” he grins above you. “Hm, guess that makes me a liar too, doesn’t it?" he chuckles darkly, his free hand landing smack after smack on your ass. "C’mon pretty, give me number five.”

“H-harry, I–I ca-can’t.”

“You can, and you will,” he states matter of factly. Pulling your arms back with each thrust of his hips to hit every good angle inside your pussy.

Your head is spinning, every nerve of yours is on fire. Sliding a hand down the expanse of your back, he presses his thumb into your ass, making you moan louder than you have all night. With every thrust of Harry’s hips it drives his thumb further into your ass making your eyes cross.

“G’na cum again, oh god, Harry. G’na cum!”

“Cum, baby. Give all of it to me,” your arousal comes in waves, squirting all over Harry’s abdomen and thighs. “Oh, yes, baby. There she is, such a dirty girl. C’mon, keep squirting all over this dick,” he groans. Leaning down to angle your head to smush his lips against yours. Your body is set ablaze; nobody has ever been able to set your senses on fire like this. Harry was your one in a million, and he finally saw that. He continues thrusting his hips, in and out, in and out milking every bit of your arousal from you that he can. Releasing your arms, he braces his hands near your head, biting down on your upper back as he fucks you into the mattress.

“W-where do you want my cum, baby?” He asks breathlessly, sinking his teeth back into your skin.

“I-inside. Fill me up, Harry,” you moan into the blanket beneath you, your knuckles turning white from your grip.

“Don't have to tell me twice,” he grunts, “G’na fill this pussy up with my babies. Make you all swollen for me. Then those boys will know who you belong to. You want that? Hm?”

“F-Fuck, yes, Harry. Make me yours,” you cry out, fisting the comforter in your hands. He stills against you; filling you to the brim. “S-shit, Harry. So good, baby. So good.”

“Shit, pretty—you’re so good. Best I ever had, swear to god. Such a good girl,” he moans against your skin. “Perfect f’me.”

The months of brooding just kept him away from what was his; you. Everything about you. The smile he fell in love with at first sight, but refused to admit it. The sounds of your laughter filling the air. The way your face reddened every time he kissed your cheek goodbye. The gleam in your eyes when you got particularly excited about something, especially if it was considered taboo. You were his dirty girl.

He was leaning against the counter as you two discussed everything. The one question you’d asked him that he didn’t really want to answer at the time. “Do you believe in love?” His response, “I’d like to, but it’s not for me,” and it broke your heart. He didn’t think he was deserving. He just wanted to run his business, and move on. He ignored every pang in his chest when he thought about you. But looking at you here and now, his arms wrapped around you as you stood in your hotel room shower, his heart has never felt more full.

“I think I have to change my answer to one of your previous questions.” He says, running his hands over your water slicked skin, rubbing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“Mm, which one would that be?” You ask, turning your head to look up at him, cheek pressed against his chest, your fingers tangled in his wet curls.

“If I believe in love.”

“And?” You question, a sly smile forming on your lips.

“If I get to experience it with you, then I absolutely believe in love,” he leans down to softly kiss your lips, pulling you as close to him as possible. “But you were right about one thing,” he whispers as he pulls away for a split second, taking in the gigantic smile on your face. Your eyes searching for any sense of deception.

There is none.

“What’s that?” you ask, bringing a hand down to cup his face; you run your thumb across his bottom lip.

“I didn’t do feelings. Not until you,” and he’s kissing you again.

c/n: weeeeell. what do we think? 🙈 I know it says final up there but I think I may do a check in or two for our pair here. We shall see!! Thank you for coming along this journey with them! I hope you enjoyed!

please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles writing #harry edward style #harry styles imagine #harry smut #harry imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #Harry x you #Harry x reader

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tallulah477 · 4 months

Text

Pretty, But Not Stupid

Extra of Hunting the Tawtute

Kinkmas Day 10: Breath Play

Pairing: Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Dark!Lo’ak, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Breath Play, Choking, Size Difference, Alien Genitalia, Oral (male receiving), P in V, Belly Bulge, Creampie, Scenting, Mention of knots (but no knotting yet), Slight threesome (and Dark!Neteyam), Mentions of death/dead bodies, Reader is not having a good time (although idk...i think she’s having a great time), Mentions of war

A/N: Guess who’s back, besties!! Been MIA, slacking on prompts, and about to lose my fucking mind with all my family around, but I somehow got this done and I’m about to read as many fics as I can before someone else demands my attention.

A/N 2: This was not intended to be a full Part 2 yet, but it's way too long to be called a drabble. So I’m calling it an extra for now until I decide what to call it lmao. Hope y’all like it 🧡

A/N 3: DEDICATED TO @oakbuggy AND THEIR AMAZING ARTWORK (Everyone stop reading and go look at their art rn, all of them are god-tier but the one for Hunting the Tawtute definitely holds a special place in my heart. Thank you again, Buggy! You're amazing!)

Summary: With their father’s impending retirement as Olo’eyktan, Neteyam has more responsibilities to the clan and less time to see his favorite human. Thankfully, Lo’ak is there to pick up the slack.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Vrrtep - Demon

Tawtute - Human

Sevin - Pretty

Palulukan - Apex predator resembling a lion or panther

(Mountain) Banshee/Ikran - Large, dragon-like aerial predators

Mawey - Calm

Narlor - Beautiful

Tam tam - Calm, be content, there there

Srane - Yes

Yawne - Beloved

Paskalin - Sweet berry (term of endearment)

Their father is stepping down as clan leader - at least that’s what Lo’ak tells you when he comes to visit you in the isolated hut the brothers have set up for you on the side of a cliff face. It was for your own protection, they told you. You couldn’t stay in the village yet, their father would never allow it, and you clearly couldn’t be trusted not to run away if they built you something on the forest floor.

“Tawtutes with their tiny brains are stupid,” Neteyam had sneered as he hauled your combined weight up the cliff side. Your arms locked around his neck tightly, legs wrapped around his lithe torso as your eyes squeezed shut, determined not to look at the insane height you were being pulled to. “You might think to run away and then become the next meal of a hungry Palulukan.”

“Nah, bro,” Lo’ak said, the grin on his face audible in his teasing words as he climbed up the cliff behind you, ready to catch you if you decided to end it all right there and try your hand at plummeting to your death, no doubt. “Our little vrrtep would never run from us. Right, sevin?”

The hut they built for you was as cozy as it could be. Assembled further into the cave and away from the treacherous cliff side, thick material wrapped around sturdy posts to keep out any harsh weather that the cave itself couldn’t keep out. They’d given you plenty of blankets, assuring you that even though your human nose can’t smell it, their scent is all over them.

“To keep you smelling like us, when we can’t be here to do it ourselves.”

But they’re always around, day after day they come for you. Lo’ak grinning a deceivingly sweet smile and Neteyam’s amber eyes burning holes into your face as they grab at you, pulling you towards them as they all but rip off the loincloth and chest covering they gave you, baring your marked up body to their hungry gazes. They spread you open, fucking you and fucking you until you’re a crying overstimulated mess, drooling and teary under your mask as they fill you up.

They know exactly how to touch you, where to press, where to rub, where you’re most sensitive. They learned how to play with your body better than you could ever know how, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling, exhausted body until your left limp and they’ve decided they’ve had enough for the day.

Your body still struggles to take their cocks (although they love to tell you that you were made for it - “made to be our little cocksleeve”). Your only saving grace is that they’re still not sure if they can knot you. They’ve gotten close to trying, instincts desperate to push that large ball of tissue at the base of their cocks inside your already stuffed to the brim pussy. You feel how they test the resistance, pushing juuuusttt a little deeper, the swollen knot stretching you even farther than you ever thought you could stretch before they back off.

When they fill you full of their cum, it’s with their own hand squeezing tightly around the knot.

Usually, it’s both of them. This time, you’re shocked to see only Lo’ak climbing over the edge of the cliff.

“Neteyam sends his regrets,” Lo’ak says, kneeling down to wrap his arms around your body and press his face into your neck. His flat nose presses against your rapidly increasing pulse point and breathes in your scent. “He said to tell you that he’s sorry he won’t be able to visit you today, but that he’ll make sure to come see your pretty face and fill your tight pussy tomorrow.”

Your face flushes hot at his words, shivering when his nose slides up to nudge just behind your ear, but you stay silent.

“But that’s good news for me,” He continues. “Because that means I get you all to myself for tonight.”

Neteyam isn’t coming to visit you today because their father is stepping down as clan leader, which means increased training, more hours at council meetings, and less time to sneak off with his captive human.

“What does that mean?” You can’t help but ask. Lo’ak’s hands smooth down your sides, large palms dragging over your bare skin until they’re squeezing your ass. Your voice cracks at the feel, but you push on, your eyes doing their best to keep contact with his bright amber ones. “Your father stepping down? What does that . . .”

What does that mean for me?

“Nothing you have to worry about right now,” He says.

Without warning, he stands, pulling you with him so your legs wrap around his torso as he supports you with a hand on your ass. A loud yip rips from his throat, echoing through the cave as he walks you both towards the cliff’s edge. The responding roaring shriek makes you cower against him as the large dragon-like animal lands on the platform behind you, wings flapping hard against the wind.

“We’re going on an adventure,” Lo’ak says as he walks you closer to the banshee. You whimper, arms locking around his neck so tight you’d think you would be choking him if you could think straight. But you’re not, head whipped around staring wide eyed at the monstrous creature as it turns its head sideways to stare back at you.

“Lo’ak, no,” You beg through gritted teeth, but he ignores you as he approaches the banshee, his hand settling lovingly on its snout.

“Mawey,” he coos, carefully rubbing along the blue leathery skin on the banshee’s snout, but you’re not sure if he’s trying to calm the large animal or you. “Mawey, narlor,”

“Lo’ak, no,” You plead, still clinging to his upper body. Tears pool in your eyes and a panicked whimper escapes your lips when you feel the puffing breath of the mountain banshee on your back. “Please, please, no!”

But you’re ignored again, even when your body goes rigid at the feel of that rounded snout pressing against the curve of your spine, hot exhales practically burning your skin as the banshee sniffs at you. Fuck, fuck–you could die. Right now, you could die in a second, that snout pressing into your skin could disappear, replaced with dual rows of long curved teeth that would take only a second to open and bite down and rip you clean in half.

You can hear the smile in Lo’ak’s voice from where your mask is digging into his collarbone, his soft murmurs of encouragement loud even through your terrified thoughts. “Srane, tam tam. Look at my two beautiful girls, getting along so well.”

He moves swiftly, not leaving room for any more pleading as he bonds with his banshee and climbs on, bringing your clinging body with him. The rush of air as the large animal takes flight makes you squeeze Lo’ak tighter, desperate for safety as you feel the wind bat at your back as the banshee cuts through the sky like a bullet from a gun.

“Is this all it takes for you to cling to me, sevin?” Lo’ak teases as he rests a secure hand on your trembling figure, all five fingers spread so wide that they nearly span the entirety of your back. “A little ikran ride and I get you all cuddled up, nice and close?”

You ignore his dig, teeth clenching together as you fight to find your voice around the wind rushing around your ears. “W-where are we going?”

Lo’ak nudges his chin against the top of your head. “You’ll see,”

The flight feels like hours. Hours of watching miles and miles of trees and forest thousands of meters below from over Lo’ak’s shoulder. Logically, you know you’re exaggerating. It hasn’t been hours, and even though you’re still high enough to die as a splat on the ground if you were to fall, it's probably not as high as it feels. But heights have never been your friend, and frankly, neither has time management.

It’s only when the banshee lowers to the ground and Lo’ak dismounts, depositing you on your own two unsteady feet, that you realize where he’s brought you on your ‘adventure’.

Your mouth opens in horror at the remains of your old home. The RDA outpost, a once tall and strong fortress that housed the lives of hundreds of humans, now practically nothing more than a heap of rubble. The walls once meant to provide safety to those within them have crumbled down, victims of their own explosives used against them by the enemy. Debris lines the paved ground, thick boulders and metal platings that were once walls, bullet shells glinting in the sunlight. There’s a few AMP suits scattered around the battlefield - you can’t see inside them from your vantage point, and you’re terrified of what you might see if you get too close.

“This way, tawtute,” Lo’ak says, reaching for your hand, but you yank it away before he can grab it.

“No,” You say, but the firmness in your voice is overshadowed by the shakiness. “No, I’m not going in there.”

“Yes, you are,”

Another headshake. “No,”

Quick as lightning, his hand shoots out and grabs the bottom of your mask, gripping on the valve at the bottom as he bends down so his face is level with yours.

“Demon,” He growls, fangs on display for just a moment. A warning. “You are pretty, but not stupid. You do as I say.”

Fear claws at your throat and your hands immediately latch onto his wrist, silently begging for him to not pull your mask off. He never does, and neither does Neteyam. Not as a punishment at least. When they use your mouth, there’s always a warning - a “hold your breath, yawne,” before the air is cut off from your lungs and your mouth is full of alien cock. But the fear never leaves, the possibility is always there at the forefront of your mind, and you cling to his wrist like the lifeline it is.

Lo’ak’s face softens at your expression, grip loosening from your mask as his hand slides to cup the back of your neck. “You know I would never hurt you. You need to trust me,”

Hesitantly, you shake your head again. You’re pushing your luck, you know it. But you’ve learned Lo’ak is the more lenient of the brothers and will tolerate more ‘disobedience’ than Neteyam will. “I can’t,”

“Yes, you can. Nothing in there will hurt you. If anyone is left in there, they’re dead,”

And that’s the problem. The terror of facing the place where life as you knew it was ended in a heartbeat. If there’s still people in there, people you once knew, people you talked to, some people who were good, lying on the ground . . . lifeless . . .

In the end, it’s not a choice. Lo’ak sighs, pulling you back in his arms and cradling you to his chest like a toddler. You sniffle, eyes sliding shut, determined to not watch as he walks you towards the remains of the outpost.

It’s hard to admit, but being carried by the brothers can be really soothing if you let it. They move swiftly, with grace and confidence in every step, careful not to jostle you despite the usually uneven terrain of the forest. It’s even smoother now as Lo’ak walks across the flat pavement of the base. If you close your eyes, it can almost feel like you’re floating.

There’s a loud chu-chunk sound followed by the rapid hiss of air and the loss of sunlight behind your closed lids. You open your eyes to see that Lo’ak has found a still intact entrance, the airlock working to adjust the oxygen levels to whatever lies beyond the interior door. He smiles when the pressure stabilizes, opening the door and stepping into the inside of the base. This time, he doesn’t warn you when he pulls off your mask, the sound of escaping air hitting your ears, but you don’t choke. Instead you can breathe, deep complete breaths without the need for a mask covering your face.

Lo’ak wastes no time nuzzling his face against yours, sliding his cheek across every new inch of face and neck that he can comfortably reach, a deep content rumble vibrating through his chest.

Scenting you.

“I can smell you,” He whispers, lips pressing against your cheek. “Not just you right now, but where you were, where you’ve been, here, within these walls.”

“W-what?”

His feet carry him, guided by an old scent that you can hardly believe is here after so long. But it is, it has to be - you know the journey, have walked it hundreds of times during your time on Pandora, but you can’t imagine that Lo’ak would. You don’t think he ever went inside the outpost during the attack. He shouldn’t know that it's the second hallway instead of the first, shouldn’t know it’s two left turns and one right, and that your door is the 3rd on the left. But he does.

He even knows which bed was yours and which was your roommate’s, only confirmed when he drops you down onto the thin RDA issued mattress against the far side wall. You land with a yelp, bouncing slightly from the force of the drop, but your noise of surprise is cut off by Lo’ak’s lips against yours.

“Stupid humans,” He growls against your lips. “Can't even breathe air without help. Wish I could teach you, so I wouldn’t have to go without your pretty lips on mine every day.”

You whine into the kiss, his big lips nearly twice the size of yours as they capture your mouth completely. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you, but it’s the first time you can breathe while it happens.

He pulls away after a few more kisses, his breathing shallow as he reaches for something tied to his loincloth. It’s only then that you see the CO2 mask that’s been attached to his hip this whole time. He pulls the cross strap around his body, the mask hanging low on his chest and the CO2 canister hanging around his hip. He brings the mask to his face with one hand, taking in a few deep breaths, while the other hand works at the ties on his loincloth.

The material of his covering falls to the ground and he drops the mask in favor of gripping your chin, thumb rubbing soothingly across your cheek.

“Someone wants to play with you,” He purrs. “Be a good girl and invite him out, okay?”

Your breathing is shaky as you rise up on the bed, knees pressing into the mattress as you come face to face with the flat plane hiding Lo’ak’s cock. His hand moves to the back of your head, guiding you forward until your lips press against the smooth space between his thighs.

Experience has you knowing what to do now, how to hold onto his thighs with both hands to keep yourself steady as you pepper gentle kisses along the hidden slit. Lo’ak tips his head back at the feel of your tongue sliding along the seam, little teasing kitten licks against the engorging slit that are always from him demanding them, demanding the slower teasing buildup, rather than you being coy.

He pushes your face harder against him, hissing a ‘yeah, good girl. Like you fucking mean it,’ as he urges you to lick him deeper. When his slit opens, puffy and dripping, you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips as the sweet taste of his slick coats your tastebuds. It controls your body, whatever is in the slick. You feel it, making your body heat up, making you want things you definitely don’t - and you’re in the thick of it now, no mask or breathing breaks to cut whatever effects it usually has on you. It sets your body on fire now, making your thighs clench together as wetness pools in your core, and your brain fuzzes as the first touch of Lo’ak’s cock teases your lips as it starts to slip past the slit.

You don’t know how long he keeps you there, sucking his cock. He’s dragging it out, taking advantage of the rare opportunity he has now of you without your mask. He drags your mouth along his cock, staring down at you with hooded eyes and letting you suckle gently on the lavender tip. Sometimes he’ll growl, pushing you down harder on his length just to hear you gag when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Other times he’ll pull you off completely, twisting your head so that your lips wrap around his girth from the side, before sliding you slowly back and forth along his length, tongue running over each and every bump and barb along the hot cerulean skin, the bright bioluminescent freckles decorating his cock practically shining under the layer of slick and saliva.

When he’s finally used you to tease himself enough, he pushes you back flat on the bed, large hands wrapping around your calves and pulling you closer so your ass is just barely hanging off the side. You whimper when he pulls your legs apart, ripping the soaked loincloth from your body, hungry amber eyes staring at your swollen, wet cunt.

“Such a pretty girl,” He moans. The tip of his cock slides along your folds, nudging against your clit before sliding back down and positioning at your entrance. “You ready?”

Your brain is fuzzy and your clit is throbbing, hole clenching with the need to be filled. You close your eyes, looking away from his intense gaze - you don’t want it, you try to remind yourself, you don’t, he’s making you. But a swift smack on your thigh makes your eyes fly open again, Lo’ak’s hard gaze seeming to cut into your very soul.

“Say it, demon. Wanna hear you say it,”

A small cry escapes your lips, body unconsciously trying to bear down on his cock even as you shake your head. He shifts forward just the tiniest bit, lavender tip just barely pressing against your drooling hole enough for it to start to stretch before stopping again.

“‘Need you, Lo'ak,” he recites, brow cocked, expecting you to repeat it. “Say it.”

“Fuck!” Is what comes out instead - a whiny, frustrated curse, that has your eyes tearing up again and Lo’ak’s ears pinning back against his skull.

His hand is quick to wrap around your throat, fingers digging into the blood vessels at the side of your neck as he hisses down at you. Your hands wrap around his wrist again, fingernails digging in and no doubt leaving red crescent shaped marks in the blue skin. He’s not squeezing your neck, not crushing your windpipe out of anger. You can breathe, the gulping breaths your gasping for are making it into your lungs, but the fingers pressing into the blood vessels make it feel like you can’t. Your head is clouding again, fuzzing like TV static, vision going blurry as his hand doesn’t relent.

“Fine,” He grunts. “You don’t wanna talk? Don’t.”

You want to scream when he pushes forward, cock bullying its way past your entrance and inside you, stretching you and filling you up. It’s slow and torturous as he fills you impossibly full, the barbs along his length scraping ruthlessly against your slick walls. He sighs, ears flicking in pleasure as your heat envelopes him, stretching around his girth so perfectly he swears you were made for him.

You can feel the bulge in your belly, the pressure disappearing and reappearing again as he begins to move inside of you. Long, purposeful strokes meant as a punishment, meant to make you feel every agonizingly blissful inch of him as he fucks into your soaked cunt, harder and harder with each thrust. Your mouth moves trying to form words, sound fleeting save for the barely there whispers of ‘fuck’, ‘oh my god’, and ‘please’. Lo’ak hears them anyway, leaning down to silence you with a filthy kiss. His hips pound against yours, unrelenting in their mission to completely fuck the soul of your body, and the sound of slapping skin against skin mix with Lo’ak’s groans and your barely audible breathy whines.

Lo’ak’s fingers find their way to your swollen clit, rubbing persistently at the sensitive nub until you're crying into his mouth, thighs trying desperately to close together but can’t because of his body between them. The thick press of his knot against your entrance is what pushes your oversensitive body over the edge.

At the first suffocating clench of your pussy around his cock, Lo’ak releases your throat letting all the air it felt like you weren’t getting back into your lungs in a rush of oxygen. You gasp, crying against his lips as you arch up against him, creaming pussy fluttering around him as you cum on his cock. He growls when your teeth latch onto his bottom lip, blunt teeth digging in enough to draw blood, but the way he immediately grabs your hips, shoving his knot against you as hard as he would dare without actually penetrating you, tells you that it was a lust filled growl this time, not an angry one.

He moans when he spills himself inside you, face pressed against your neck as he fills you up. You swear it feels almost scorching hot, heating you up from the inside and then out as it spills from around Lo’ak’s still buried cock and runs down the curve of your ass and onto the bed sheets.

Someone clears their throat from behind Lo’ak, and you gasp at the sudden sound, frantically trying to look around Lo’ak’s hulking body to see who it is.

Lo’ak sighs, undisturbed by sudden intrusion, even going as far as rolling his eyes before slowly pulling out of your used cunt - more of his cum spilling out onto the bed now that he’s not still inside you to keep it in. “Wasn’t expecting you today, bro,”

Your eyes widen when he moves out of the way, revealing a smug looking Neteyam in the doorway, still very much dressed up in his warrior’s gear.

“I had to make time to see our pretty little demon,” Neteyam says, bright amber eyes sweeping over your exhausted form. He crosses the room with three long strides, one knee pressing into the bed as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “That was a nice show. I know you’re tired, paskalin,”

His eyes meet yours, amber irises practically swallowed up by the blacks of his pupils. A hand presses against your belly, sneaking down towards your oversensitive pussy, his pointer finger reaching out to tap against your clit as you whine.

“But it’s really not fair that you smell more like Lo’ak than me now, is it?”

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @pandoraslxna @avatarwifey

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#Avatar12DaysofKinkmas #lo'ak smut #lo'ak x female reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x human reader #tw: noncon #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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entropys · 2 years

Text

had a very enlightening and meaningful conversation about social media with my best friend today and i feel like that conversation was too good that i need to write a post about it sometime

#not now tho some other time when i feel like it #but im really glad we had this conversation #we also had another conversation about communication between us 2 and i feel like if i had a therapist they’d be proud of me for doing this #i am a person that cannot handle conflict whatsoever so me and my best friend actually never had a fight #which is.. not healthy i think since we’ve known each other for about 9 years now and have been close for 7 years #damn now that i think about wow.. i’ve known them since middle school and we’ve been besties since high school #but anyways yeah i told them that there’s absolutely no way we haven’t upset one another at some point but we both are kinda the same so we #dont say anything ever… and just keep being upset on our own then the other would keep making the same mistake bc they dont know #and its like a never ending cycle..#and that bc we dont say anything whenever they upset me i keep thinking of all the other things they’ve done that upset me and drive myself #crazy.. and it got to the point where i need to do something about it or ill explode but i just CANT tell them what they did to upset me #i can’t do it i can’t handle it so i came up with a genius idea #every time they upset me i will write about it in my notes app like i always do and they’ll do the same #then we’ll have a day called confession day where we gather them all in a paper and exchange papers and never talk about it again 🫶#bc then it’ll be like we both upset each other and we dont want to discuss it or have a fight so its just a way to let each other know #and i think it will help us grow closer and it will make being alive more bearable and i will enjoy their company even more #i know that we should maybe start discussing things at some point but baby steps im sure we’ll get there some day #anyways i really love my best friend im glad theyre alive im glad today happened #they had an accident recently and are currently recovering from an injury do u know how scared i was #im glad theyre here with me :’) gonna go cry and be sappy now goodnight #actually im gonna attempt to study i have 2 midterms tomorrow i did all this when i should be studying #but if i could repeat my day i wouldn’t change a thing #*

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sarcasticassian · 1 year

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Corroded Coffin’s label want them to do a Christmas song, Chrissy (their manager) tells them over and over that it’s not gonna fly, it’s really not the band’s brand and who is even asking for a Christmas song off them but due to the recent mainstream success of the band the label is not backing down so Chrissy tells the guys what the situation is thinking she’s going to have to deal with an unhappy label and unhappy talent, she immediately lets them know that she’ll try and negotiate a cover or something that they can whip up in no time and then forget about

but they all surprise her, Eddie the most, Jeff just had a kid with his wife and he’s in good spirits, Grant is married and Gareth has a long term girlfriend so she can maybe understand their tolerance for Christmas but Eddie? Mr anti establishment and hates all things capitalistic etc etc, he LOVES Christmas apparently, he says its about the spirit, people’s giving nature etc also he loves watching people get into physical fights over presents and families tearing into each other over the holidays, it’s kinda funny as an outsider and as someone who has one other family member

so they put their heads together and even out do what she’s asking by giving her two original songs and a couple of covers, enough for an EP, the label is ecstatic and Chrissy is flabbergasted, the only hitch is that before they record properly Eddie needs a choir of kids (why, Eddie? it’s part of the Christmas spirit Chris, so many songs have them as well, why can’t ours) so to make it interesting the label makes it a competition for local school choirs and a certain Miss Buckley decides to send in a tape because why not right?

except Eddie loves them, the tape doesn’t cut off in time to miss a snarky comment from the kid at the front with the curly hair and the redhead next to him rolls her eyes so hard Eddie is pretty sure she can see the back of her head and he’s charmed, they sound good too so he begs the band to pick them and the other guys really aren’t as invested in this so they say go for it

Robin is over the moon that her choir got chosen, she’s a music teacher at a local middle school where her bestie also teaches history and is beloved by all children apparently, and it helps that the prize is tickets to a Christmas concert Corroded Coffin will be a part of for all the kids so she tells them that world famous band Corroded Coffin is coming to their school to record them for a new song and they go nuts as a bunch of 14 year olds would, Steve is happy for her even though he has no idea who these people are and doesn’t bother looking them up cause what kinda band comes to a random school for a recording of their song

Eddie LOVES the kids when he arrives, they’re delightfully bitchy but obedient enough or respect Robin enough that they listen to both her and him all day and they sound great, he enjoys them so much in fact that he asks if they’d all want to be in the music video, Steve is out sick that day much to everybody’s dismay but once the video shoot is all worked out they need another teacher for health and safety etc so he volunteers to go (not that Robin would’ve given him a choice) and he sees Eddie covered in flakes of fake snow, surrounded by this soft halo of light and is like oh dear when his heart starts pumping double time

Eddie thinks this teacher is a total cutie and all the kids seem to love him, clamouring to point out cool things on set or show him their costumes or just chat to him about their other weekend plans and Eddie is a little smitten, the shoot goes on and the song is about being lonely at Christmas, the other guys’ partners are involved and the original idea was for Eddie to remain alone to really drive in the point (who doesn’t love a sad Christmas song, of course Eddie would write something against the grain) but the label has a sudden change of heart and wants the video to end with Eddie finding someone and Chrissy seizes her chance to play matchmaker so she suggests Steve fills in if he wants before Eddie can protest

Steve is a slightly confused about why they’d pick him until Eddie blurts out that he’s gay and out etc so a guy would make more sense to their fans so Steve, caught up in the moment, says sure why not, and half falls in love with Eddie under the fake snowfall and horribly bright set lights, he knows it’s an act but Eddie is very charming (Eddie isn’t acting) and all their actual audio will be cut because of the song playing over the top so Steve just enjoys himself

when the song and video goes live fans lose it, who is this cute, cute man that Eddie has bagged, it must be his boyfriend right because everybody else’s partner is in the video and Eddie has to quickly clarify that he just met Steve that day but nobody believes him, ‘the chemistry is too good’ so Eddie manages to reach out to Steve and apologise and Steve decides to joke that Eddie should take him for a drink to make up for it but Eddie immediately agrees and that’s how Steve finds himself on a date with a rockstar

(his class go wild after Christmas break and they hear from Miss Buckley about Mr Harrington’s new boyfriend)

(they go wilder when Steve spills in return that Robin has been seeing Chrissy-the-band-manager since the recording at the school back in October)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #robin/chrissy #robin x chrissy #steveddie #bandqueen #bandcheer #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic

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userlando · 9 months

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Reader w bestie lando feeling down bc he’s surrounded by more conventionally attractive girlies/people because of his profile and him listing all the positive qualities and things that he likes about them except he lets slip saying he LOVES it about them n getting all flustered stuttering and then confessing years of longing my HEART can’t handle this pls add ur thoughts vulnerable lan is my kryptonite

oh my god please 😭😭

reassurance (1492 words) best friend lando/fem!reader confessing feelings

please beware that this can have allusions/mentions of body dysmorphia, reader being insecure and self-conscious about how she looks. nothing too major, but it may trigger someone!

The both of you are standing by the kitchen counter, it’s late and Max is sleeping upstairs, oblivious to what’s going on outside his bedroom door. It had been a long night of drinking with half the grid and their respective partners, buying out a VIP section and ordering buckets of icy drinks.

It was at two a.m. that your social battery died out and so did Lando’s. You didn’t think a person could be so happy as he got when he glanced your way and caught you surreptitiously hiding a yawn behind your hand, asking if you were ready to head out. He’d only had one drink, so he drove the both of you back to his and Max’s place.

The kitchen had become your refuge, only one small lamp being the source of light as you got comfortable by the counter. Lando had, as suspected, sought out Max’s stash of snacks, ignoring your halfhearted protests because the last time he’d raided the pantry, his best friend had gotten so pissed that he’d locked it.

Normally, you would’ve joined him in the drunken snacking, giggling and carrying a stupid conversation that usually went in the direction of weird-ville, ending with ‘what type of worm would you be, if you could choose one?’

But tonight, you were staring dubiously at the bag of Walkers and packet of Hobnobs, all kinds of self-conscious thoughts swirling in your mind. You thought of earlier that night, when you’d trashed the dress you had in mind because it didn’t look right on you. You thought of how you’d gone for jeans, immediately regretting it when you arrived at the club and spotted the girls in short skirts and gorgeous dresses that looked like it was moulded for them. It was difficult to not feel some kind of way when everyone around you looked like they’d just stepped off the runway.

“You alright, peach?” Lando’s voice cut through your thoughts and you glanced up at him, hanging over the counter and chewing loudly on biscuits.

You grimaced at the nickname, one that you really hadn’t had many feelings about until recently. It had started as a joke, being photographed walking the paddock with Lando during an obscure weekend and Lando had giggled so hard that he turned red, almost losing consciousness as he read a tweet someone had posted about you.

ass so fat it looks like a peach

It had been funny, and Lando never really let it go. He’d started calling you peach ironically, until it stuck and replaced your name entirely.

But now you weren’t so sure about the positive aspects of the nickname.

Lando made a noise in his throat, swallowing dryly around the crumbs and reaching a hand out to poke your cheek. You twisted away slightly, blowing out a breath.

“Lando!”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He demanded, sounding much like a defiant child.

You gave him a look. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, I can see you pouting.”

“I’m not—“ You caught yourself before your blood pressure reached a new high. “Shut up.”

“Peach.” He said again and you looked down from his probing eyes, staring hard at the opened packet of Hobnobs that Max would for sure notice were missing.

“I just…” You trailed off, not knowing how to express your feelings without sounding so childish. What would you say? I don’t feel beautiful. I feel like an ogre next to your friends’ girlfriends. I hate the way I look. “I’ve been feeling a bit self-conscious lately, that’s all.”

Lando didn’t say anything and you looked up, thinking that he might’ve missed your words completely but he was staring at you softly, so gentle that emotions almost clogged your throat up. You scrunched your nose, and Lando let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding because he knew what that scrunch meant. He knew that was something that you automatically did when you were close to tears.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, and you couldn’t help but smile a little tearfully.

Leave it to Lando to never push, to always listen and never judge you when you were feeling every range of emotion. It always tugged at your heart. You truly loved him.

“I feel like a sack of potatoes when I see the girls.” You laughed wetly, reaching a hand up to wipe away at your eyes. Lando smiled when you unknowingly smeared your makeup. “They’re my friends and I don’t resent them for it, but it strikes me sometimes how we’re so different when it comes to looks.”

Lando frowned a little at that, placing a hand on top of yours. Palm against palm, pointer finger finding your pulse point on your wrist and resting it there. The way he always did.

“I like potatoes.” He murmured and you shot him a dry look. “But you’re right, you are different.”

That made you frown deeper, bottom lip sticking out in sadness and it broke Lando’s heart. He hurried to wipe under your eye with a thumb, smiling gently.

“You’re different because you’re my peach. You’re different in the way you treat people with so much kindness that it blows my mind sometimes. You’re different in the way you smile so hard that your eyes disappear, just like that.” You shielded your face behind your hand, letting out a laugh you couldn’t contain. “You treat me like me. Not like Lando, the driver. You shove me when I burp and you twist my arm when I tease you. And I love you for it. I love that you’re different, and I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”

You blinked at him, slowly letting his words sink in.

“You love me?” You asked, aware that he might’ve meant it platonically but Lando’s reaction made you stop breathing for a second.

His cheeks turned pink, palms flattening on the surface of the counter to push himself up, like he was trying to put a little distance between you two. You’d only ever seen him act this way a handful of times, eyes wide and a little panicked, tips of his ears red as he opened his mouth and closed it. Like finding the right words was suddenly difficult.

“I mean— I just meant…” His voice died, shrugging a little helplessly the longer you stared at him.

Your heart was going a mile a minute, not believing what you were seeing but if Lando was fumbling his words and shrugging like he was hoping you’d let it go, he was dead wrong. You were gonna grip this opportunity with both hands and hold on.

“Look,” He pulled a face, blowing out a sharp breath of air through his mouth. “If I tell you something, will you hold it against me?”

Fuck. It was happening, wasn’t it?

“Perhaps.” You answered, voice almost inaudible because you were putting all of your excess energy into not passing the fuck out.

Lando rolled his eyes, looking a little trapped all of a sudden and you hurriedly rounded the corner, smiling at him when he took a small step back the closer you got to him.

He glanced at the counter like he considered walking around it, putting the distance back between you two but you quickly grabbed his arm, prompting him to look at you.

“How long?” You asked, soft and quite frankly, a little stunned.

“What?” He asked but his eyes said it all.

“Lando.”

“Stop.” He laughed, sounding breathless and a little frustrated. “Stop saying my name like that.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head when he turned his gaze away. He still hadn’t pulled out of your hold though, not even when you palmed his left pectoral. You didn’t know if it was wishful thinking or your imagination, but there was a steady thud against your palm that felt a lot like his racing heart and it made you smile.

“Like what?”

Lando sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, letting it go with a tsk.

“Like you love me.” He said quietly.

It was like someone had reached down your throat and grabbed your heart, squeezing the blood out and popping the vessels. You almost gasped for breath, smile stretching your lips and Lando’s expression went from cautious to slightly hopeful.

“What if I do love you?” You asked.

“Then…” He trailed off when your hand travelled from his pec to his cheek, cupping it. “Then I’d say I love you. I’d say that I’ve always loved you.”

You let out a laugh, like the absurd amount of happiness blooming in your chest was too hard to contain. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, getting on your toes to hug him properly.

“Took you long enough.” You murmured against his ear and Lando squirmed, pinching your side just to hear you squeak.

It was his favourite sound in the world.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

this isn’t beta read, I wrote this in my notes app at work so I hope it’s okay 🫣 it wasn’t smut this time (sorry) but I wanted to save the juicy stuff for longer fics hehe. I hope you enjoy this xx

#zee’s asks 💌#lando brainrot #lando norris x female reader #lando norris blurb #bff!lando #f1 blurb

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raceweek · 5 months

Note

Drop the podcast bestie! (Please)

it’s the high performance podcast (you have to download their app to get it for free right now but it will be available for free soon on regular platforms) - in case anyone doesn’t want to download the app but wants to know some of the things alex talked about:

- for context he recorded the first part of the podcast initially and talked a lot about his struggles at red bull and what he went through as a teenager and then went back to the podcast hosts and said actually can we do a part two bc i want to talk about how im coping better now

- he says he isolated himself from all of his friends when everything was happening with his mum and he became an introverted person and still carries that introvertedness with him now from going through that time

- alex was told he was promoted to red bull when he went to see helmut in austria to talk about the practicalities of his move to monaco and just as the meeting ended helmut said oh by the way ur in the red bull seat, here’s the number for ur engineer maybe speak to him but also actually u can’t bc the factory is closed for summer but yeah ur going to be announced in about two hours. bye

- he says he didn’t enjoy being a driver in 2020 at all. literally said he was destroyed. he spoke about the pressure and how he deleted his social media due to the incessant mocking but he also felt like even though he had done that he couldn’t avoid it because although he didn’t see it directly he’d just be asked about it on media day every week anyway

- he was asked about what help was offered to him in 2020 when he was struggling and whilst he said the team cared there wasn’t really anything or anyone to help him. alex and his trainer patrick got their own psychologist towards the end of 2020 and then in 2021 when alex was out of the sport he assembled a team of his own who weren’t the most experienced but who he knew cared for him and would fight to the death for him (said he took jacques from red bull to be his manager because he always fought his corner no matter how tough the situation was)

- he was told about being dropped by horner in a meeting at the end of the season but he already knew because it had been posted in the media before they’d even met

- he described 2021 as a really weird time as he needed to boost his stock with red bull and all the other teams but to do that he needed to give as much as he possibly could to improve the car he had just been kicked out of, so when max said at pre season testing that the car was so much more stable it was a strange feeling knowing that that’s what he needed and he wasn’t able to do anything with it

- he compiled a sexy spreadsheet for team principals in the paddock showing that as much as he struggled in 2020 he was on reflection closer to max pace wise than maxs’ current teammate and maxs’ teammate before alex

- when asked to describe where he is now he said he’s happier than he’s ever been. he’s driving better than ever and is mentally in the best headspace he’s ever been in

- he says he comes up with scenarios in his head from the last 4/5 years and as soon as he has a sort of deja vu struggle moment he uses it to show himself he’s overcome that hurdle

- he said the older he gets the more he doesn’t feel the need to write things down the way he used to because he feels more confident in himself

- the best piece of advice he’s ever received is from franz tost who said “alex if there’s one thing you need to learn about formula one it’s don’t give a fuck” and he said he didn’t really understand it until he started struggling and then he realised that he cared too much

- when asked about what advice he would give to teenage alex now he said it’s hard because he isn’t the most confident now and he knows teenage alex wouldn’t listen bc his parents would always try and fill him with confidence so he said he’d try and shake younger him and tell him that it’s true what they’re telling you

#and there it is!!!!!#alex and his complex trust and mental health issues disguised as introvertedness. wbk!#asks #anon #alex albon

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fryingpan1234567 · 2 months

Text

listen I knowwww Roach should be British. he was on a British task force. he’s got the flag on his uniforms. but when @fixfoxnox said southerner Roach I just couldn’t not love him okay leave me alone

anyways. southerner Roach shenanigans

(I guess you could call this a Something in the Orange fanfic since he’s besties with Jackson in this scenario as well as dating Ghost and Soap……… but it’s general enough it’s probably fine ANYWAYS)

Roach’s accent, while it normally only lightly flavors a few of his words, gets considerably thicker when he’s visiting home

I mean like he does the thing southerners do where they somehow mash entire sentences into one word and the others are just like “……….what” but Jackson is nodding like he understood

Like. They’re all at dinner together somewhere. Somebody brings up the rodeo at the state fair. The Europeans have no idea what they’re talking about. Roach just goes “y’ain’tneverheardadat??” and Soap nearly has a stroke trying to figure out what he meant but Jackson continues to eat soundly like he didn’t hear anything wrong

COWBOY👏 HAT👏 RULE👏

HELP

No no no they go to some random dive bar for one of their birthdays. It doesn’t matter whose. Jackson and Roach both have cowboy hats because OBVIOUSLY and like. They exchange this look that the others can’t figure out whenever one of their boyfriends steals their hat via flirting

(They tell them later and then can’t stop laughing while Soap and Ghost and Gaz are just sitting there like uh oh)

After that the hat stealing is very much purposeful

Square dancing to fucking Timber by Kesha and Pitbull in said dive bar because that’s just required idk what to tell you

Soap and Ghost seeing Roach ride a horse for the first time and visibly bluescreen

Roach recognizing people from high school in his hometown even tho he hasn’t seen them in like 20 years

He likes Taylor Swift but only her old country-adjacent stuff

Ghost and Soap couldn’t figure out his aversion to any kind of substitute milk until he took them home and they found out it’s because he grew up drinking milk that literally came from the cows he has in his backyard. They own two cows. And a few chickens. Very resourceful

Jackson and Roach dragging the 141 to Roach’s family’s Super Bowl party one year because in the southern states it’s a huge fucking deal

The Europeans being like “………this is quite possibly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen in my life” but their boys are having fun so it’s okay

God help the rest of them. Jackson and Roach are rooting for opposite teams.

There’s screaming, there’s wrestling on the living room floor, there’s spilling food and beer everywhere. The amount of rubbing it in after a touchdown lands is fucking crazy, and they’ve shouted about stabbing each other every single time

Eventually, maybe with a bit of googling, the others get into it. Soap hasn’t stopped shoving Mrs. Roach’s buffalo chicken dip in his face since he’d discovered it when they’d arrived, and Ghost was letting the kids use his tattoo like a coloring page while he chatted with Roach’s dad and brothers. Gaz kept getting elbowed in the ribs whenever Roach and Jackson tousled on the couch, and a couple times he was asked to hold Jackson’s beer so “I can kick some sense into this dipshit,” usually followed by Roach’s maniacal cackling. Price was banging around in the kitchen with Mrs. Roach. Nobody knew how he’d gotten dragged into that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself

On the topic of bringing the boys home to the fam oh my GODS thanksgiving

Ghost is not a dessert person. He’s never been a dessert person. But he had four slices of Mr. Roach’s apple pie, so,,,,,,,,, apparently he is actually a dessert person

Obvi Roach is good with all guns, but he was hunting with his dad and brothers by the time he was like six. He knows how to work a shotgun like he breathes

(Ahem being southern is why he’s so fucking stubborn btw if anyone was wondering)

Roach and Jackson both are religious Dolly Parton listeners

“DID U GUYS KNOW SHE WROTE JOLENE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU ON THE SAME DAY—“

Ghost and Soap wake up one night because there’s a weird noise outside. They poke Roach awake like “???? what was that??” and he was just like “oh yeah the woods make noises sometimes. don’t worry about it. if something actually wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t hear it coming” and promptly passed back out

“Yea I’ve seen a skinwalker before” “FYM YOU’VE S E E N O N E ? “ “It was in my backyard?? Relax it just wanted the coyote that always tries to kill our chickens. I didn’t really mind”

Gaz suggests investigating a weird figure he saw in the woods. Roach laughs out loud and Jackson smacks him in the back of the head like “that’s how you fucking die you idiot”

“Y’all’re lucky we’re here to stop you from doing somethin’ stupid. Fuckin’ city slickers” “What did you just call me”

The deafening sounds of crickets and locusts puts Roach to sleep almost instantly every night. Ghost barely sleeps every time they visit.

”IT IS SO FUCKING LOUD IF ONE MORE BLOODY CRICKET—“ “Simon not everyone needs literal dead silence to sleep—“

No matter how many pillows he stacks on top of his head he can’t escape it

Oh. Oh. The Europeans CANNOT do southern heat. They’re passed out on the porch while Jackson and Roach and Roach’s brothers play football in the front yard

Roach makes killer lemonade and iced tea nobody talk to me

He has a rusty blue ancient pickup that he says is his baby. One of the wheels is misshapen and the bed squeaks dangerously every time they hit a pothole, but he won’t get rid of it EVER

Roach introduces Soap and Ghost to catching fireflies in jars with his nieces and nephews. They are. So in love with the concept.

It gets turned into a competition, because of course it does, and it looked like Ghost was going to win— but then the youngest of the participating children silently held up a jar that was too bright to look at and audibly buzzing from the amount of bugs inside of it. They cut their losses and embrace the fact that they’ll never be That Good

Southern👏 sunsets👏 there ain’t nothing like it

Soap has a sketchbook dedicated entirely to doodling Roach doing farm things

Roach had a horse he took care of in high school. Her name was Peaches and he literally cried when he found pictures of her in his room

Ghost LOVES the sweet old border collie Roach’s parents have. That dog has seen many a stampede, and he’s herded just as many. What a man. Ghost does not leave him alone Ever

gods fuck me bro I could literally talk about southern Roach F O R E V E R (idk if you can tell from the long ass post Jesus Christ)

good morning/ night/ 4am lmk if you want more of this

#cod #tf141 #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #paul jackson #something in the orange #kind of #soapghostroach #ghostsoaproach #southerner roach

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Text

Cater, Ruggie: The Secret in a Smile

Caycay, bestie… I am so sorry that SSR Crowley stole your spotlight 😭 (Is that why Cater looks so Mean Girls in his groovy... He's seeking petty revenge against Crowley/j)

Some cute stuff from the vignettes that I wasn't able to include in this fic: Cater makes a reference to TsumTsums! He mentions being into this mobile game with cute round creatures. Cater also tells a story about a 5-year old girl giving him a flower after his club's performance at a cultural festival (omg, do they mean the one in book 5?!). Ruggie teases him and says Cater must have been that little girl's first crush 😂

A Tale as Old as Time.

“Ne, ne, Ruggie-kun! Check this one out~ It's all the way from the Queendom of Roses!"

Cater jabbed a thumb at a painting of a young blonde girl dressed in a modest sky blue frock and apron, a small black bow in her hair. She couldn’t have been older than 10 years of age, still petite enough to squish inside a glass bottle with a narrow neck. The bottled child was adrift in a sudsy sea, her face frozen in an expression of slight worry.

Ruggie took one look at the artwork, then wrinkled his nose. “Sure sucks to be in her shoes. What’s this even supposed to show us, anyway? Doesn’t make a whole lotta sense to me.”

"Not a lot from the Queendom does if you aren't already familiar with its topsy-turvy stories~" Cater placed a hand on his hip and leaned forward, grinning. "This one is pretty popular! It's about a girl that wants an audience with the Queen of Hearts. She gets lost on the journey there, meets strange people and experiences even stranger things on the way. This is just one leg of that trip!"

"Wouldn’t the castle be further inland? How'd she end up in the middle of the ocean?"

“It’s about the perspective of the shot.” Cater formed a frame with his hands, catching his underclassman in it. He pulled back, creating the illusion of sizing Ruggie down. “She drank this bottled liquid she found and that shrank her down—so really, the ocean isn’t that big.”

A grimace.

“Man, talk about no sense of self preservation. She just chugged an unlabeled bottle without a second thought. Must’ve been real desperate.” Ruggie paused. “Weeeell, not like I’m one to talk about being desperate. You really can’t afford to be picky sometimes. If it fills your stomach, it fills your stomach.”

“You’d drink it too, huh… I don’t think I could do that. I’d at least want to see how the menu describes it before I order—though I guess it also depends on how ‘cammable the drink is! And hey, think about all the cool pics I could grab from a worm's eye point of view!”

"Heh, you don't seem too pressed about living life as an ant."

"Cay-kun likes to look on the bright side of things!" he declared with a wink and a peace sign. "The lost girl... she worried so much about finding her destination, she forgets to stop and smell the roses. She overlooks a lot of the fun people she could have spent time with."

Hopping from place to place, missed people—familiar elements, resurfacing a childhood of being uprooted and dragged about. Never to fully settle.

A tea party here, a brief convo there. Just enough to keep him placated, but not enough to see beyond the surface of the looking glass.

His curiosity still left wanting.

She got into so much trouble, but didn't have any real friends to come and help her.

Sadness tugged at his heartstrings, but Cater's smile didn’t waver.

"... I can’t help but kinda pity the poor thing," he said quietly. Then, brightening in the next moment, "All her issues could've been avoided if she just looked before she leapt and made some connections."

“Yeah, she definitely should’ve played smarter, not harder. Maybe if she kissed up to the locals, they’d have come to her rescue." Ruggie shrugged. "It works for me and Leona-san."

“Right? A smile goes a long way to getting what you want!” Cater poked the corners of his mouth. “You totes get me.”

“Cuz it takes a trickster to know another one on sight.”

"Wow, it sounds so mean when you put it like that. We're not tricksters, we just know how to use our smiles to problem-solve~"

"Giving a word a fresh coat of paint doesn't make it any less shady. At least be honest with yourself," the hyena smirked.

“Eeeh, I’m always honest!”

They shared a laugh—Ruggie, a snicker. Cater, lighter, more bubbly, like a carbonated mystery drink. When the effervescence died down, he cast another glance at the painting.

Too big for her small world of the sea, too small for the big world that loomed beyond it. Trapped within glass walls. Curled into herself in her delicate chambers.

Her perspective and his, one and the same.

Poor thing, poor thing, poor thing.

Cater summoned his strength and bore the full brunt of his smile.

“I’m sure she’ll find what she’s looking for… one day.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Cater Diamond #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Cater birthday takeover #something no one asked for #spoilers #twisted wonderland scenarios #Ruggie Bucchi

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kitten4sannie · 1 year

Note

bestie help i can’t stop thinking about fucking older! ateez 😭😭😭 like iMAGINE 50-something year old san or yeosang (or san AND yeosang…👀👀) the way they’d be kinda cocky because of their success when they were younger (and their /experiences/ when they were younger) HHHH and they’d treat y/n like their little princess and when they fuck you theyd be like “does this pretty baby just need a cock inside her little pussy SO bad that she’s willing fuck an old guy like me?“ and girl u KNOW they’re both gonna be buff as FUCK by that age i- i need to stop myself

holy fuck i love you for sending this ask like i am REELING you have no idea 😭😭 i almost went insane typing this out like i am down astronomically for dilf ateez esp older ateez like okay sure 30 year old san/yeo would be fine af but 50 YEAR OLD SAN/YEO??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP 💳💥💳💥 so yeah i ended up writing an entire fic and i know this wasn’t technically a request but i just had to 😭i dedicate the following to you bestie so i hope i did it justice 🖤

𝙰 𝙲𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚠

Older! San x Fem! Reader x Older! Yeosang

Genre: smut

W.C: 3.6k

Summary: San and Yeosang visit your place of work, hoping to unwind after another long day of being incredibly rich and powerful.

Warnings: reader is in her early 20s, aged up! san/yeo, dom! san, soft dom! yeo, sansang, brief olfactophilia, cigar smoking, alcohol usage, mentions of age difference, pet names, use of the names sir/Daddy, dirty talk, degradation, super brief masterbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, oral (receiving), squirting, two instances of unprotected sex, spanking, hair pulling, creampie, kissing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

Song Recs: Planet Girl by Jooyoung feat. pH-1, Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd, Into It by Chase Atlantic, The Walls by Chase Atlantic

Masterlist

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You were working at your city’s local upscale cigar lounge when two of your favorite customers came in. Choi San and Kang Yeosang. Though they were both old enough to be your dad, they still were still infinitely hotter than most guys your age. And they knew it too.

As per usual, they were both dressed in fairly casual, but obviously luxury brand clothes. Gucci and YSL, from what you could recognize. You weren’t personally familiar with those brands, but you could tell just from being around the other (usually affluent) customers. Your eyes scanned them, watching them walk from the entrance over to the counter you were standing behind. They were wearing a fair amount of jewelry, the silver and gold accents of their necklaces and bracelets only serving to make the extent of their wealth just a little more obvious to anyone that was near them. Of course, you noticed the sleek buttoned loafers they had on as well, knowing those alone probably cost more than your rent.

The wrinkles underneath their eyes appeared a little more prominent than usual, the both of them tired and ready to relax at the end of a busy day. San gave you a small wave, resting his hand down on the mahogany counter, his aromatic cologne making its way to your nose. It gave off strong accents of sandalwood, with hints of cinnamon coming through as well.

“Welcome back, Mr. Choi. Mr. Kang. Your usual?”

San nodded his head, already pulling his leather wallet out of the back pocket of his black pleated trousers. You could tell that they were professionally tailored from the way they perfectly hugged his muscular thighs.

Two Cubans,” you started, already feeling like you were about to lose your cool, but forcing yourself to pull out a small cigar case and opening it up, pushing it in their direction for them to inspect.

Yeosang stepped closer to the counter to pick up a cigar and make sure it was up to his standards, allowing you to smell his cologne of choice as well. Though it was similar to San’s in terms of it being able to turn you on, it had a much more gentle scent, giving off notes of citrus and lavender. “Forgetting something, dollface?” he questioned, his deep, silky voice permeating in your ears.

“And a bottle of scotch. Single malt,” you added, feeling an obvious knot already beginning to form inside your stomach. You reached for the bottle from the shelf behind you and set it down on the counter, along with an identical set of shot glasses.

“Anything else?” You twirled a lock of hair around your manicured finger and looked Yeosang up and down, who was already doing the same to you. You bit your lip, giving San a once over as well, who returned it with an even hungrier reaction.

“It depends. Are you on the menu as well, sweetheart? I’d love to find out how you taste,” San questioned confidently in a low, but smooth tone, sliding his platinum credit card into your hand, his slender fingers drifting over yours.

Yeosang elbowed his friend in the side, giving him a slight grimace. “Have you ever heard of being subtle?”

“Why be subtle when this works ten times faster?” San retorted, rolling his eyes, which prompted Yeosang to open his mouth like he was about to argue with him.

Unable to ignore the aching in between your thighs, you found yourself giving into one of San’s various attempts at seducing you. Obviously, it was incredibly unprofessional of you, but you were at your wits’ end, unable to resist such a delicious offer.

“I’m…I’m actually off the clock in a little bit…if you two wanted to…you know…” you interrupted in a soft voice, paranoid that your manager would somehow catch wind of what was about to go down all the way from his office.

San and Yeosang exchanged glances, the both of them eventually sharing the same lewd smile.

“Put us down for one of the private rooms,” San informed, watching you press a few things on the screen of your work’s pos system and swipe his card through the reader, his dark eyes zoning in on how tightly your black long sleeve top fit on your body. “You’ll join us as soon as you get off, alright, baby?”

“Of course, Mr. Choi,” you answered sweetly, handing the older man his card back, along with the key to the room.

San shook his head slightly, putting the key and his wallet into his pocket, before wrapping his fingers around the neck of the bottle of scotch, passing the two shot glasses to Yeosang. Turning his attention back to you, he stated point-blank, “You’ll be addressing me as Daddy for the rest of the night. Now, let me hear you say it.”

“Yes…” you started, peering over your shoulder to see if anyone was there, which no one was, thankfully. “Yes, Daddy.” San gave you a pleased smile, elbowing Yeosang just like he had done earlier.

Yeosang added, “And you can address me as sir, pretty girl.”

Your eyes flickered over to Yeosang’s brown ones, unconsciously wetting the corner of your lips with your tongue. “See you in a little bit, sir.”

Yeosang slid a hand into one of his blazer pockets, looking back at you with a small smirk, picturing what you’d look like with his thumb in your mouth. “Don’t take too long, darling.”

Knowing there weren’t cameras set up in the vip room for privacy reasons, you felt like you should be able to relax, but that simply wasn’t happening for you. It was most likely due to the fact that two insanely attractive men were sitting on the velvet couch opposite from you, sharing the strong liquor they had purchased and silently puffing on their cigars, all while undressing you with their eyes.

“You’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time, haven’t you? Even though we’re thirty years your senior?” San leaned his back against the plush cushion behind him, resting a palm down onto one of his thighs.

“Mmm-hmm,” you nodded, despite gripping your knees so tightly your knuckles turned white, in search of some comfort, wondering if you were even capable of surviving this unbelievably arousing situation.

“Nervous, baby?” San let out a soft chuckle, taking delight in your predicament, unlike his seasoned counterpart, who was already filling up a glass with the scotch and passing it in your direction.

“Ignore him. Have a drink and relax, okay? We can take things slow, fast, and everything in between. It’s up to you. We don’t even have to do this if you don’t want to,” Yeosang informed, noticing the way you shook your head and took a few gulps of the scotch.

“I want to do this. You two just make me really nervous cuz you’re so…so…” You couldn’t seem to finish your sentence, your mind too occupied with focusing on Yeosang, who had stood up and walked over to you, his elegant frame towering over your own.

“I understand. Just be sure to let us know if you want us to stop.” Yeosang held the bottom of your chin and tilted it up, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “Nod your head for me, doll.” Once you did so, he hummed to himself. “Good girl,” he added, his words coming out like they were drenched in honey, slowly pushing his thumb past your parted lips.

You could’ve melted right then and then, the strong liquor inside your mostly empty stomach sending a pleasant warmth over the expanse of your body. “Mm,” you moaned softly, sucking on his thumb and looking up at him with half-closed eyes.

“That’s it…”

San tapped his cigar near the glass ashtray that was sitting on the small table between the couches, clearing his throat to get his friend’s attention. “Take off her clothes for me, Sangie,” he chimed lovingly, the vapor leaving his mouth, pleased with the sight of Yeosang smiling at him and pulling his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, so that he could pull your top off of you.

“Harder. Finger yourself harder, baby. Yeah, just like that,” San groaned, lazily stroking his cock with one hand and still bringing his cigar up to his lips, taking a puff of it now and then. “Are you going to cum for us?”

You were sitting back against the seat with your legs spread, pushing your digits into your cunt as deep as you possibly could, your hand starting to cramp from how long you had been going at it. “I’m trying to, Daddy,” you responded, your tone rising in pitch near the end, tossing your head back from being on the cusp of your orgasm, but not quite getting there.

“God, you’re so hot. Does your real dad know how much of a slut you are?”

“Uh-uh.” Feeling more pain in your hand than you anticipated, you relaxed it and closed your eyes, sighing out of frustration. You didn’t even notice when Yeosang had gotten onto his knees in front of you, until you felt the flat of his tongue moving up and down your soaking cunt. “Oh, fuck-”

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, massaging his thumbs into your upper thighs and giving you a reassuring smile, prior to eating you out like you were his first meal of the day.

“Oh my goddd…” You slumped down slightly against the couch, your fingers pushing past his dyed dark blonde locks, making eye contact with San, who was jerking himself off a little faster than before.

“How does she taste?” San asked, squeezing his fingers around his cockhead every time he got up to it, a few droplets of pre-cum dripping down the side.

Yeosang reluctantly pulled his mouth away from you to groan, “She tastes fucking delicious, San,” before replacing his tongue with his fingers, your eager hole swallowing them up to the hilt.

“I’m jealous.”

“You should be,” Yeosang chuckled, glancing back at San, as he shoved his digits into you so fast, you thought you might unravel then and there. “Don’t look away either. You’re going to watch me when I make her squirt all over my face.”

San groaned deeply at his friend’s words, sinking even further into the couch, some of his black hair falling into his eyes. He immediately blew it out of the way so that he could admire the way Yeosang’s tongue was quickly flicking across your clit. “Don’t worry, Sangie. I’m watching…”

“I’m…cumming…!” It didn’t take long for you to reach your limit, incredibly overwhelmed by all of the pleasure that Yeosang was giving you, as well as from the way that San was drinking in the sight of you and eagerly bringing himself to his own pinnacle of gratification.

A gravelly sounding moan erupted from Yeosang’s vocal cords, holding his mouth open near your pulsing hole and catching most of the clear liquid that squirted out of you on his tongue and in his throat, gulping it down.

“F-uuuuck, that’s so hot…” San choked out, in between grunts, his hips bucking up, just as he shot his load out onto his bare, chiseled abdomen, incredibly relieved that he had unbuttoned his overtly lavish shirt.

You ran your fingers delicately through Yeosang’s hair, breathing heavily and shuddering when he cleaned up the rest of his arousal with his tongue. “Nnngh, please, sir, let me take care of you too.”

“No need, doll,” he replied shakily, his porcelain cheeks incredibly flushed and his eyes glossy. Yeosang unbuttoned his velvet pants and pulled them down, along with his tight briefs, revealing his softened, cum-covered length.

“Oh, wow…” you blushed, bringing a hand up to your mouth and gawking at him, biting back a gasp when Yeosang’s dick started to come alive again just from the way you were looking at it.

San sighed softly, slicking his slightly damp hair back. “That’s my Sangie, always so eager to please.”

Smiling, Yeosang stood up and walked back to the other couch, sitting down next to San and gathering up some of his own cum, gently moving it up and down his friend’s length to make him hard again.

San groaned in delight, adding, “But enough about him.” He snapped his fingers, gaining your attention, beckoning you in his direction with his index finger. “Come over here and sit on my cock, baby.”

You almost ran into the coffee table, just narrowly avoiding it and enthusiastically lowering yourself down on San’s lap. “Are you going to fuck me nice and hard, Daddy?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart? It’d be a sin not to.” San grabbed both sides of your ass and kneaded into it with his strong hands, guiding your entrance to his cockhead and pushing himself inside, a few inches at a time, until all nine were inside of you.

“Oh, fuuuuck…” you exhaled, reveling in the feeling of being completely filled up by the man you had been secretly pining for.

Seeing Yeosang starting to jerk himself off through his peripheral, San began slamming himself into you, right out of the gate, the couch creaking underneath the both of you. “You like watching me fuck her like this, Yeo? Huh? You love it, don’t you?”

Yeosang moaned, moving his hand a bit faster, relishing the dynamic he shared with his friend, as well as the sight of you taking his cock in such an obedient way. “Pull her hair, San…for me…and-fuck-kiss her neck!”

San followed Yeosang’s directions, bunching up your hair and holding it like you had it up in a ponytail, then pulling it down so you had to look up and expose your neck in the process, earning a strangled sound of pleasure from your lips. “Yeah? You fucking like that?”

“Uh-huhhh…” You closed your eyes for a moment, shivering when San lazily kissed, lapped at, and sucked on your neck, feeling his warm breath hit your skin whenever he let out a soft pant from how hard he was fucking you.

Yeosang leaned his body weight against San’s, their shoulders and toned arms pressing into one another. “Keep talking to her like that…” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, completely wrapped up in the heavy, intoxicating tension that seemed to swallow the room whole.

“Do you like the way I’m pounding this pretty pussy of yours, baby?” San complied, squeezing his fingers into the sides of your bouncing ass and smacking it a few times, making sure to leave a few handprints.

“Yes, Daddy…!”

“Who fucks you better? Me or those twenty-something shitheads you meet on Tinder?”

“You!”

Yeosang leaned his head down against San’s shoulder, hunching over slightly so that his hand could slide rapidly up and down his throbbing length. “Oh, god…”

“Do you think your coworkers can hear you being a little whore for me? What about that manager of yours? Do you think he knows you’re getting your pussy stuffed by a man way older than him? And being watched by someone who’s just as old?”

“I don’t care if he does! Fuck me harder!” you cried, almost delirious at this point.

Yeosang shook his head, letting go of his cock to comment, “Jesus Christ, San, you know I don’t like it when you talk about how old we are. It’s making me go soft.”

San scoffed, stopping his movements for a moment so that he could casually give Yeosang a side eye, allowing you to bounce on his cock instead, giving you the power to bring yourself to a much-needed state of ecstasy. San groaned out, pressing his head back into the couch, grumbling, “I can’t help that it turns me on, Yeo. Are you really kink-shaming me right now? In the middle of this?”

“I’m not-”

“Ohhh, I see. You’re just upset she’s not fucking herself dumb on your cock, huh?” San reached over and patted Yeosang’s thigh, giving him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, Yeo. Once I empty my load into her, you can have a turn.”

Yeosang’s hand returned to his cock, giving it enough attention so that he could return to the same state of pleasure he was at before, focusing on the way your tits bounced in front of San’s sweaty face.

“You’ll let me cum inside you, yeah?” San grabbed onto one of your breasts and moved it around, idly tweaking one of your nipples with two fingers, bringing a sharp gasp out of you.

“I…I don’t know…” Though you were on birth control, you dreaded the thought of having to try to keep cum from spilling out of you on the walk out of the building, and including the drive home. What if it stained the seats? And you just got them redone too. That would be-

“Please, baby,” he groaned, the muscles in his thighs tightening, making them go rigid, some of his pre-cum coating your soaked inner walls. “What if I buy you something? You want a pretty little dress? Or what about a new laptop, huh? I’ll even double whatever you get on your paycheck — just let me cum inside you, baby. Please, let me fill this slutty cunt of yours!”

“Okay, okay! Just hurry up and-” You couldn’t form another word, too preoccupied with the way that San was holding you down, his hot cum filling you up to the brim, to the point that some had to drip down the base of his dick.

“Ohhhh, god…that’s it…”

Once San pulled out, Yeosang had already recovered from his own orgasm and picked you up by the waist, effortlessly pulling you into his own lap and immediately replacing San’s cock with his own, growing hard inside you, upon feeling your walls tightening up around his thick length. “It’s my turn, darling.”

“Oh my god,” was all you could get out, unable to resist the way Yeosang began expertly bucking his hips up into yours, hitting your g-spot almost instantly. “Sir…!”

“What a good girl you are, taking another cock right after taking mine,” San cooed near your ear, biting the shell of it and slamming his palm into your ass, causing you to cry out.

“Does that feel good, angel?” Yeosang spoke up, peppering your sensitive neck with kisses, his calloused hands running up and down along the curves of your body, eventually settling on your tits and cupping them.

“Y-esss, so fucking good…!” You were about to explain how amazing it felt in further detail, but you were silenced when the man’s lips suddenly pressed onto yours, his tongue slipping into your slightly open mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, appreciating how desperate he was to kiss you, to explore your mouth so fervently, as though he had a time limit.

San moved even closer to the both of you, grabbing the opposite side of your chin and pulling you towards him, breaking the kiss and allowing small ropes of spit to fall from your lips. “Let me have a taste,” he mumbled, pressing his mouth onto yours and kissing you in a more sloppy, but still passionate manner.

Being stimulated in so many ways at once sent you over the edge, feeling your pussy clenching around Yeosang’s length, just as a large amount of arousal splashed out onto it. “Mmmnnn!”

“How many times did you cum for us, baby? I bet you can’t even count,” San mused, gently pushing your face away and reaching down in between your heated bodies, rubbing your swollen clit. “Cum again, babydoll, so you can brag about it to your little friends on your social media later.”

“I…ahhhh….” Your eyes were rolling back into your skull, your head and body pulsing with mind-numbing delight, barely able to keep any sort of grasp on reality.

Yeosang pumped himself into you at such a fast speed, San could barely keep his fingers on your clit, but still managed to play with it long enough that their combined efforts sent you into a fit of pleasure-induced hysteria.

All you could get out was a string of yeses, while quite a few tears fell down your warm cheeks, hardly noticing when Yeosang wiped them away and pulled out of you, just in time for his cum to land on your chest and abdomen in slow spurts.

Almost passing out, you pulled off of Yeosang and settled in between the two older men, huffing and puffing until the flood of endorphins that had previously rushed to your brain finally mellowed out.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, San reached for his half-filled glass of scotch and took a small sip of it, then leaned back against the couch, spreading his arms across the top of it. “So, laptop it is, then?” he asked, nudging your thigh with his own.

You sucked your teeth, shaking your head slightly. “Mm, I’ll take the money. And if we do this again, would you consider tripling the amount if I let you cum inside me as much as you want?”

San sighed softly, facing you and giving you what could only be described as heart eyes, prior to looking past you at Yeosang, who was too busy sending a proud smile your way. “I think I’m in love,” San admitted, drumming his fingers lightly against the couch.

Yeosang reached over to you so that he could caress your cheek, earning a small sound of approval from you. “Get in line, pal.”

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(i figured i would tag everyone for this since it was a full-fledged fic lol)

Tags: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cloudysannie @aryraaaa @za-con @cosmiczen @choerryge @aikyubi @arusio @gueritaybonita @i-l0v3hands @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @jexidamulti @as-she-pleases @purplechannie @lilactiny @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @cherryxsang @namsloverr @chanst1ddies @woo-stars @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @fairyoftaehyun @bls-luv-me @lavanyasingh04 @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @mork-ly @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @merciluv-blog @atzcrime @lovekeeho @sup-dallyboy @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @Eastleighblogs @singularity777

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raz-writes-the-thing · 6 months

Text

Birth One, Get One Free (Good Omens)

Aziraphale x Crowley x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: You're the birth mother of The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness and you find you need Crowley's help with making sure you get to keep your little Antichrist.

CW: giving birth, soul-selling, blood, uh- k-kidnapping? sort of? canon typical kidnapping/kidswapping (can't believe I just typed that)

Good Omens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

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You hadn’t even fucked the Devil. You had just… sold your soul a few years back. You’d thought it odd when the Demon who’d struck the deal with you had not actually asked you to sign your soul away. They’d licked their lips with their snake-like split tongue and said that at some point, they’d come to you for a favour you weren’t able to deny.

Of course, you’d already agreed to this before they’d outlined that particular detail to you. And thus, you started to always read every line of text in a contract before signing. No way were you going to make that stupid decision again. At least you still had your soul, you supposed.

It was a year or two after that when you’d met Crowley and Aziraphale. An Angel and Demon who weren’t terribly akin to their own kind, and preferred the company of each other to anyone else. This was fine by you, and you’d only been able to tell they weren’t human because of their auras. You were descended from a line of particularly powerful witches who could just… sense things. Very convenient. Particularly for things like this.

Once Crowley had figured out who you were, he warmed to you. Whether that was out of pity because he knew exactly what your deal had been for, or just because he liked you was still up for debate. It didn’t matter though, you were glad to have friends who could sympathise with your plight. Not to mention understand it.

You’d had several nice years to yourself enjoying the benefits of your deal when the proverbial snake finally came around to bite you on your proverbial ass. That Demon whom you had struck your deal with popped out at you one night after a very raucous evening at the theatre.

“Your time has come,” they had hissed rather like a snake. “To make good upon your deal.”

“Right,” you’d replied, sobering instantly. The day you’d been dreading for years was finally here. “What do I need to do?”

The Demon had smiled, their teeth glinting rotten in the moonlight, their eyes dark and murderous.

“Nine moons you must swell, so our Master can bear witness to their offspring, The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness. Nine moons and He shall be borne into this miserable plane of existence.”

Right. No small ask then.

“Uh, well, I can’t really say no, can I?”

The Demon laughed, and you backed away slightly to get away from the rancid mouldy earth smell coming from their breath.

“No, not really,” they’d cackled.

And so there you were, pregnant with The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness. For nine gruelling months with that baby inside you, growing away like no one’s business. Except it wasn’t no one's business, was it? No, it was everyone’s business. Or it was going to be, at some stage. Fuck.

At first, you’d been able to pretend that this was not your life and that you were just happily going about your own business. Of course, the first time Aziraphale and Crowley saw you after meeting your Demon bestie, they could smell the infant growing inside you.

It was a little disturbing actually. Knowing they could smell the peanut-sized thing growing in your belly. What else could they smell at any given time? That was probably not something you needed to dwell on too much.

And so you grew, and grew, and you had to face the fact that you were in fact, carrying The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness in your belly and there was no way out of it. Your Angel and Demon were at least kind enough to help you through the process and Aziraphale delighted in the appointments and yoga and everything else.

Crowley came to things too but was considerably less enthusiastic.

It was around month seven that the three of you started brainstorming ways to stop Armageddon in its chubby little baby tracks. You weren’t sure, but you were growing suspicious that the Demons (not Crowley- the ones who actually served Satan) were going to take the baby away from you when it was born. And that just… well it wasn’t on, to say the least.

You went into labour early, water breaking where it was supposed to and you were rushed to the little nunnery just like you were supposed to. You’d attempted to get yourself somewhere else, but fate and- God, you supposed, had other plans. It was the Chattering Order of St Beryl or nothing at all.

The labour was easy, thank, well, someone. Not easy in so far as to say without any incident whatsoever, but easy in the sense that birthing The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness could have gone a lot worse. It had still taken quite some number of hours, and the pain was excruciating, but by the end of the night, you were blessed with a baby boy whom you’d named Adam in the hopes that he might take after his namesake and not follow the word of God outright, but maybe take a detour here and there.

You were right, of course. While you were resting, bloodied sweaty and ripped open, the nuns had taken your Adam and given him to some American family who were also politicians. You hated politicians. And while, no, technically Adam was not your biological baby, you wanted him. You wanted to keep him. He was yours, and you would fucking raze cities to the ground to get him back.

So, you did what anyone in your position would do, and called Crowley.

“I know you’re already on your way,” you said into the receiver, voice low so as not to alert the nuns. “But I need you to put your foot down. They’ve, uh, taken him. I need him back.”

Crowley had heard barely past the word ‘but’ before he was slamming on the accelerator and getting to you as fast as possible. Aziraphale was also on his way, but he was perhaps not the one you needed for this particular little job.

You were, understandably and unfortunately, too weak to do much other than bleed into your post-birth pads and eat jelly, and you were so hyped up on adrenaline, panic and hormones to do anything but burst into tears as soon as Crowley crashed his way (still somehow suavely) into the room.

“Oh, love,” Crowley said softly, plonking his sunglasses onto your side table and coming to lay on the bed beside you. He wrapped you into his lithe arms and you bawled harder than you ever had in your life. Crowley made comforting noises, patted your head and made a lot of shushing noises.

You let yourself be devastated and exhausted for a moment- a mother. You let yourself be a mother for a moment before you gave yourself an internal kick in the teeth. You could cry and bleed out from your abused vagina later. Right now your Adam was somewhere in this chattering order and you needed him back.

“They- they have him,” you hiccuped, throat dry from the wailing. “They took him, Crowley- I- I know I said we needed to stop him- to stop Armageddon-” you grip the neck of his shirt desperately. “I need him. That’s my fucking baby, Crowley. I don’t give a fucking shit if Satan himself thinks he has some claim over him, but that is my baby.”

Crowley’s brows draw down for barely a single second before he nods in agreement. You’d carried the (literally) damned thing. Of course, he was yours.

“Right- yep, okay,” he says, putting words to his thoughts as he starts working on a plan to get your baby back. “Okay, don’t worry- I’ve got a plan.” The charming smirk on his face did not necessarily fill you with a lot of confidence.

The nuns had swapped out your baby for another baby who you later found out was the American couple’s newborn. When the nuns had returned from weighing Adam, you knew he was not your Adam because a, the swaddle was the wrong colour from the one you wrapped around Adam earlier, and b, this baby had differently coloured eyes.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Crowley said, standing by the cart and looking down at Not-Adam. “I take this little rascal here, and swap the wrapping thing with the one on Adam and give you back your little tyke, eh?”

You look down at Not-Adam.

“What’s going to happen to Not-Adam?”

Crowley looks down at the baby, brushing a forefinger over his cheek. He chews on his lip.

“Go back with the politicians, I expect,” Crowley says, lips curling in a soft smile as the newborn pushes his cheek against his finger. You continue to look at Not-Adam. If only there was a third baby, then you could keep them both.

“Wait- erm, Crowley,” you say guiltily. “Isn’t there an orphanage nearby?”

Crowley is a smart being, so you know it’s genuine when he looks at you with such confusion that you’re worried his perfect skin might break.

“No, look- I- I was meant to have this baby, right? That’s why they swapped my Adam out. Can I- would it be wrong… to want both?”

Crowley appeared thoughtful, gears turning in that six-thousand-year-old head. As far as you both knew, the politicians had known they were going to be swapping out their biological child for the Antichrist. They were happy enough to pass out their child for another. What would it matter if they received a totally different child that wasn’t their own or the Antichrist?

And if the baby was coming from no one and going into a (hopefully) loving home, then, who really lost there? You explained all this to Crowley, who had appeared unsure at first but by the end was coming around to it. You hoped, anyway.

“Yeah, I don’t know. How would you feel if you found out someone swapped your baby out in the dead of night?”

You gave Crowley a very pointed look.

“Right. Point taken. Look, what I’m saying is-” he looks down at the little one in the cot. “This one should go back out there and you can have Adam. Everyone goes home with their own children- yes?”

You weren’t big on it. You’d already grown attached to the little one squirming in his little swaddle. You didn’t want to give him up, but on the other hand, he probably should be with his own parents. With a dejected sigh, you agreed.

You’d tried to insist on coming along to help, but you were understandably very knackered. Crowley had put you back to bed, warned you not to do anything rash, and disappeared with the little tucker. You’d had to bury the pang of sadness that washed over you as your door closed and you were left baby-less in the room.

If you had been holding one of the little tuckers, you’re sure you would have not gone absolutely insane waiting for Crowley to return. You also had no idea how long he’d be and how long it would take him to pull off the plan and return Adam to you, and being alone in the room was not helping you with the matter.

The nuns had checked on you a couple of times, making sure you were alright and to see if you needed anything. You’d taken them up on a cup of tea but even with the warm mug, you were finding yourself slowly drifting off. Your head kept lolling forward, and you’d awake with a startle, blinking harshly and scolding yourself for falling asleep at a time like this.

You’d worried a little at first that maybe Adam was in danger, but then you’d remembered that the whole point of this Chattering Order was to keep The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness safe and sound- and given the wife of the politician had given birth the same day, well, it was very unlikely that she’d be taking off tonight either. There was time. You just had to be patient.

It was about an hour before Crowley returned, looking absolutely shell-shocked. The look on his face had almost meant you missed the fact that there were two squirming bundles in the cot he wheeled into the room.

Wait- two?

“Wh-” You didn’t even get the whole word out before Crowley was shaking his head, mouth opening and closing a little like a fish.

“You’re not gonna believe this, pet,” he said, wheeling the cot by your side so you could see them lying there before going back to the door to check for nuns. Seeing none, he locked the door and sat down on the edge of your bed.

By this point you were cooing over them, admiring them sleeping. They were so peaceful. It was hard to believe that you had birthed the Antichrist. How could something so cute be evil? You weren’t convinced.

“Went over to the happy couples room,” Crowley said absently, causing you to tear your attention away from the babies and look at him. “And- there were two in there. She didn’t have twins, mind-” Crowley blinked, and focussed his gaze on yours. “They were fussing over him, cooing and cuddling like all you humans do.”

Crowley blinked once more, looking down at the two babies in front of you.

“Asked me to take Adam away. One of the nuns had forgotten to take the other one. Didn’t even give this one a lookover. I tried to explain- briefly, but they didn’t want a word of it.”

You ran a finger over Not-Adam’s swaddle, smiling as he wriggled.

“Where did the other baby come from?” You asked the question dawning on you. “There weren’t any other couples here, were there?”

“Nope,” Crowley sighed, popping the ‘p.’ “No idea. Big old mystery. Just another in a long line of cock ups, I expect.”

You hummed in agreement. In all honesty, you didn’t care how it happened. You were just glad it did- and glad the politicians didn’t want their kid back. Crowley had given them a chance, and they’d not listened. What else was there to do?

“Thank you,” you say, moving your hand from the cot to place on top of Crowley’s. “Thank you. You- you got my little one back. My babies. I’m grateful for that.”

Crowley cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable with the sincerity in your eyes. He’d done a good thing, and yet also a bad thing. Maybe Downstairs wouldn’t take notice. You hoped not, for his sake.

Your eyelids were starting to droop again now, and Crowley helped you settle back down. He assured you that if any nuns came looking, he’d keep your additional little one out of sight.

Just as you were passing out, you heard a shocked Aziraphale say none too quietly-

“Twins?! No one said anything about twins- and I should know. I went to all the appointments.”

A mortified Crowley shushed him, and within moments, your eyes were closed the whole way.

You slept soundly, knowing your Angel and Demon would keep you and your babies safe.

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