#ARE YOU SEEING THIS??? ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED

[cherienymphe]

A Family Affair

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON, STEPCEST, age gap, plus size!reader, infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: It's no secret that Rafe doesn't care for his stepmother, so when he suddenly starts being nice to you following his father's neglect, you're relieved to think that you can finally start acting like a family.

⭑

You sighed to yourself as the sound of Ward’s light snores faded behind you, your feet carrying you down the hall as you sought something to drink. It was late, and while you should’ve been asleep alongside the rest of the house, you were wide awake. Your thoughts strayed to your husband, and a familiar pang made your chest ache. Per usual, you attempted to ignore it, but the late hour and solitude prevented you from doing so.

Ward was so busy with business as of late, and while you knew what you were getting into when you married him, you hadn’t anticipated just how often you’d find yourself alone and without him. It wasn’t so bad the first few times you found yourself scarcely seeing him for weeks on end—business eventually letting up and allowing him to spend more time with you before the cycle repeated—but it started to get old after a while. The constant back and forth and ebb and flow of your relationship…

“Don’t you like the nice house? The fancy cars? The semi-annual trips?” was what he’d asked you one day when you brought it up.

At your reluctant nod, he’d merely given you a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“You know it’s never temporary,” he’d murmured against your skin, trailing his fingers down your arm. “Work just pulls me away, sometimes.”

That was almost a year ago, and you were even less used to it, now.

The lifestyle made up for it in some ways, the sex in others, but you never thought you’d find yourself thinking that it was your stepchildren who really brought you so much joy on those days where you wondered if this relationship was fulfilling enough. You smiled into your glass at the thought of them, shaking your head as you remembered something Sarah had said the day before. They were far from perfect—one more so than the other two—but it was in a way that was almost endearing. Most of the time…

You swallowed down a sigh along with your drink as you thought of a familiar dirty blond.

Rafe Cameron was Ward’s only son, and such a title brought along lots of expectations that Rafe ever failed to live up to. You still couldn’t quite tell if Ward expected so much of him or if Rafe just refused to apply himself. You settled on something in between, a little bit of both of that from both of them. It made you sad, sometimes, and over the past few years you’d done your best to help and be there for Rafe, but all of your effort seemed to be in vain.

The twenty year old just didn’t like you…and you wondered if he ever would.

He was never shy about his feelings regarding you and on some level you appreciated the transparency, but on another it did sting a bit. There were moments where you wondered if he simply thought you weren’t good enough for Ward. You quickly learned how shallow Rafe could be, and it wasn’t like you were the thinnest woman out there—far from it, in fact. It definitely wouldn’t surprise you to learn he felt his father could do better in that department, but for some reason, you just didn’t buy that excuse.

The looks he gave you and the cold manner in which he talked to you sometimes made you feel like it was something far more personal than something as mundane as weight. It was moments like these where you realized just how much Rafe’s behavior got to you, and not because it hurt particularly bad, but mostly because you didn’t understand it.

You found yourself entertaining the same kind of thoughts a few nights later when face to face with Rafe, declining his ‘suggestion’ of throwing a little ‘get together’.

The younger man wasn’t happy with the discussion, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek—a tell-tale sign of his annoyance you’d come to learn— as he eyed you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. With a soft scoff, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the back of the couch. You didn’t appreciate the small curve of his lips.

“You realize I'm an adult, right…? And that I technically don’t have to ask you permission for anything…right…?”

You licked your own lips, briefly glancing away with a sigh.

“Is that why you brought it up to me instead of just telling your father what you’re going to do?”

His expression shifted, the smile dropping from his lips, and you watched the way his jaw ticked.

“Ward would flat out tell you no, and you know it. I’m simply telling you no more than ten people. The last ‘get together’ you had here is still a little fresh in all of our minds, and you’re lucky I’m compromising at all after Wheezie found a condom in her room,” you reminded him. “There’s a reason you’re having this conversation with me and not Ward.”

Rafe’s nostrils flared, but he otherwise said nothing.

His silence gave you the opportunity to let out a sigh, stepping towards him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes closely followed the movement, used to him watching your every move. It was like Rafe didn’t trust your very presence, something you were sure he’d be over by now, but time had yet to prove you right.

“I’m on your side, Rafe. You understand that, right?”

He merely looked away from you, and you continued.

“I don’t enjoy you and Ward being at odds. You and I are a whole other conversation, but you and your father? I’m trying to help you help yourself, and you just seem to fight me every step of the way-.”

“You’re not my mother,” the blond coldly interrupted, making you swallow.

It wasn’t his sentiments that surprised you, but that he was actually saying it aloud. You long knew and accepted that Rafe didn’t—and probably wouldn’t ever—see you as such, but you were taken aback by him saying it and also saying it to your face.

“You’re just some thick thirty something piece of ass my dad married because hey…it’s not socially acceptable for a fifty-year old man to marry some twenty-five year old, so a thirty-eight year old is the next best thing he can get without being called a weirdo.”

He said all of this with a casual shrug, throwing his hands up, and you blinked.

You watched him as he straightened himself, slowly approaching you as he sniffed, eyeing you in a way that—for the first time ever—actually made you want to hide away from the world.

“Don’t worry about the party. I’ll just have it somewhere else…”

Rafe didn’t give you time to respond, brushing by you and leaving you to mull over his harsh words alone.

“Oh!”

You clutched your water bottle to you, eyes wide as they landed on Kelce of all people in your kitchen. The dark skinned young man was merely getting a snack, nothing that caused for any kind of alarm, but you simply hadn’t even known he was here. His presence surprised you, and clearly yours surprised him by the way he also looked at you with wide eyes. Although you didn’t understand why.

This was your house, after all…

“How long have you been in the house?” you wondered, moving to the sink to refill your bottle.

“Uh…only about twenty minutes,” was his answer.

You nodded at that, understanding why you hadn’t been privy to his presence. You’d been lounging by the pool for at least forty-five, and when you turned back around, Kelce’s dark eyes met yours, the look on his face unreadable. The silence between you felt awkward for some reason, and you hesitantly took a sip of water, eyeing him with a frown.

“Is Topper here too? Do I need to make extra pasta tonight?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean…yes to the Topper question, and no to the other. We’re not staying,” he said with a shrug just as you heard loud footsteps on the stairs. “I actually think Rafe is chilling at my place tonight.”

“Okay,” you slowly responded with an even slower nod, still unsure about the look on his face.

You were going to ask him if he was alright when another familiar face joined you both, Topper stopping just at the entrance of the kitchen. His brows rose a tad when his gaze landed on you, and whatever look passed over his features had come and gone too fast for you to name.

“Hey, Mrs. Cameron,” he greeted. “Going for a swim?”

You briefly glanced down at your bathing suit, fixing him with a look that had him nodding.

“Right, stupid question…”

You looked between the both of them, curiously and suspiciously, mind running wild with the possibilities of just what could be going on with them.

You settled on weed.

“If you three are smoking up there…”

They both rushed to deny that, frantically correcting you.

“No, no, we’re just…you look very pretty today,” Topper politely said.

The compliment—even if a little backhanded—took you by surprise, having not expected that, at all. You looked between them again, recognizing the appreciative look in Kelce’s gaze at last, and you let out a small snort. It was flattering in the way a compliment from a child was, and you shook your head.

“Thank you, Topper,” you finally replied, moving to leave the kitchen. “I’ll be outside if any of you need anything.”

You hoped that they wouldn’t. Aside from the three of them, the house was empty, and you’d been taking advantage of such all day. A nice glass of lemon water, an engaging book, and a beautiful sky was all the company you needed to relax poolside. You really didn’t want that to be disturbed by college sophomores burning down the kitchen.

As you made your way towards the backdoor, you briefly caught sight of Rafe standing at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other occupied with his phone. His gaze broke away from the device just as you looked up, and your gazes only connected for a second or two before you were looking away, but not before throwing him a small smile.

You knew he wouldn’t return it.

The rest of your day was spent as peacefully as you hoped, Kelce’s words ringing true when Rafe did eventually leave the house with no intention of returning it seemed. You were done cooking just as Sarah and Wheezie came home, and although Ward partook in supper, he did have to leave early and retire to his study. You got the feeling that he’d be coming to bed late again, and as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore that annoying tickle in your chest.

A small voice in your head told you there was a fine line between work and spousal neglect, and you’d shaken your head, cursing yourself for being so dramatic. Besides, even if Ward was neglecting you a tad, a million women would kill to be in your position. A few months without proper affection and alone time with your husband was nothing when you considered the lifestyle you were living.

Especially for someone who looked like you.

Your life could be a whole lot worse, and you promptly told yourself to stop acting so spoiled. It was just another rough work patch, something you should be more than used to. Granted, this time seemed to be dragging on longer than the others, but you knew that Ward would be able to step back some time soon and take you on dates and spend time with you and make love to you like he normally did.

You just needed to be patient.

“You really don’t have to help clean up, Rafe.”

That was what you told the younger man as he grabbed the leftover casserole, searching for a tupperware to put it in. You eyed him but not in a way that was thankful or curious but instead in a way that was…perplexed. You’d been eyeing him that way for weeks, now, and you couldn’t find it in you to care if you were being subtle or not.

Gradually—almost too gradually for you to notice in the beginning—Rafe had softened towards you. That might’ve been the wrong word to use, but he was noticeably more agreeable—not necessarily kind—and it had thrown you for a loop from the first moment you noticed it. It was something so small—putting gas back in your car after he’d borrowed it to be exact—but it was also so out of the ordinary for Rafe that you couldn’t help but to linger on it. You’d stood by the door for what felt like minutes, still holding the keys he’d dropped in your hand.

It would’ve been easy to write it off as a one time uncharacteristic display of behavior but then he was asking if you wanted anything before he headed out and was helping you clean up after dinner and was replacing that one thing you were about to run out of before you even had the chance to. You weren’t complaining in the slightest, but you had gone to Ward to ask what he’d said to the younger Cameron to get him to treat you better.

“Nothing, I swear,” Ward had said to you, pulling you into his lap at his desk. “Maybe he’s just realizing how lucky he is to have you.”

You’d resisted the urge to roll your eyes at that, positive that Ward had found a way to put the fear of God into your stepson.

“I helped make the mess, didn’t I?” Rafe drawled, responding to you. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve got plans tonight.”

You frowned at his back at that, finding that incredibly hard to believe. If Rafe wasn’t with his friends, then he was spending his free time with his girlfriend. You’d never officially met her, but you heard him mention her in passing sometimes, and you were positive she was who you’d seen him at The Wreck with once. She was blonde and thin and as stereotypically Kook as one could get. She seemed just Rafe’s type, and wondering if she was out of town or something, you asked him.

He didn’t respond right away, and you almost assumed that you’d overstepped, tried to force this relationship too far too fast, and you'd be confronted with the Rafe you were used to at any moment now. However, the younger man only shrugged, putting the casserole in the fridge.

“She just has other plans tonight…”

The response was vague, but you left it alone, simply nodding.

When Rafe needed to get by you to put the empty dish in the dishwasher, his hand briefly touched the small of your back, and you gave it no mind but you did eye him again as he put more dishes in the dishwasher. Ward may have sworn up and down that he didn’t say anything to Rafe, but you surely didn’t believe him. You supposed that it didn’t matter either way, not particularly picky about whatever forced Rafe to start respecting you.

The other man wasn’t rolling his eyes at you and insulting you and giving you looks that could chill ice. That was all that mattered, and so pleased with Rafe’s forced change of heart, there were moments that you forgot about how tied up Ward was with work. After all, you’d long noted that it was your stepchildren that were the biggest pleasant surprises in your marriage, and now that that included Rafe, you almost didn’t mind that a month turned into two and then into three and eventually four of hardly any affection from your husband. 

Your mind was off of it…until Rafe was mentioning it.

“If I wasn’t so sure that he’s obsessed with you, I’d think he was soft launching a divorce or something…”

You frowned at Rafe’s words, giving him a look that he clearly felt because he looked up from his phone. The look in your eyes must have portrayed your thoughts well because Rafe rolled his eyes, reaching over and touching your shoulder.

“It’s called a joke,” he drawled. “I know how hectic work has been lately. Trust if he could be up under you all the time, he would.”

The way Rafe said that gave you pause, thrown by the slight bitterness you swore you heard there. You’d always had the brief thought that maybe Rafe was just jealous of your relationship with Ward, his desire for the other man’s approval no secret. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a child to envy the part of their parent that couldn’t be shared with them but with a lover or friend instead. Rafe was continuing before you could linger on that thought though.

“I’m just pointing out that work hasn’t ever been this bad before…”

He only just dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“I know he probably hates it as much as you do, but unlike you, he can’t distract himself with Wheezie or Sarah or shopping or days spent by the pool…”

Rafe trailed off, a glint in his eyes that came and went, and you watched as he pulled his lip between his teeth before fixing you with a haughty smile.

“It’ll pass,” he shrugged.

You had never worried that it wouldn’t, but if even Rafe had noticed, you started to wonder if maybe you should.

“Uh…yeah, Rafe’s just upstairs.”

You moved out of the way to let the younger girl in, the ire on her face as clear as day. You watched her as she stomped up the stairs, and you worriedly wondered if you’d done the right thing. What if Rafe wasn’t expecting her? Even worse…what if they were in some kind of fight and she chose to hash it out here? Closing the front door, you quickly made your way to the bottom of the stairs, surprised to hear their voices so clearly.

It was clear to you that he hadn’t let her in his room.

“The whole nonchalant boyfriend thing is getting old, Rafe.”

You blinked at that.

“Every time I want to see you, it’s excuses. You cancel half the plans we make, and when you are with me, your mind is a million miles away,” the blonde girl practically spat. “So, you either don’t have the balls to dump me or there’s someone else.”

Her tone got particularly nasty near the end there.

“...and God knows I would love to see who you’d dare to cheat on me with.”

This conversation felt too personal—too raw—and you slowly backed away just as Rafe let out a cold chuckle. You made your way to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner, the task having been interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Your frown deepened as you chopped onions, unsure of what was going on between Rafe and his girlfriend but hoping he had the decency to treat her right.

You mulled over her words, confusion filling you as they played in your mind. Rafe had been spending so much time at home the past few months that you found it hard to believe he’d been putting an ounce of effort into anyone else. The only woman you were sure he was spending a considerable amount of time with was…well…you. The thought made you snort, but it was the truth. It was funny because you were sure that you’d seen more of Rafe than you had your own husband as of late..

So many times you were already asleep when he came to bed, and when you woke up, his side of the bed was empty. There had been quite a few days when Rafe was the only other person at the breakfast table and some days where he was wading in the same pool you were lounging by or just scrolling on his phone while you read on the couch. Ward had long told you he hadn’t said a thing to Rafe about treating you better, and at the time you hadn’t believed him, but you also felt like you knew Rafe well, and you knew he wasn’t the type to do what he didn’t want to do for long—if at all.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of their hushed voices traveling into the kitchen as they moved through the house, tones angry.

“Do not talk about her like that,” Rafe suddenly spat, those words as clear as day, and you paused in what you were doing.

A few more hushed words were angrily exchanged, and it wasn’t long before you heard the door slam.

“Rafe…”

Your disappointed tone was all that met him when he stepped into the kitchen, and he eyed you, a hand in his pocket.

“It’s not what you think,” was all he said. “She’s full of herself, alright? If I’m not in the mood to be around her then I must be cheating.”

You pressed your lips together as he neared the island.

“I don’t know… It sounded like she has every reason to suspect to me.”

Rafe fixed you with a look you couldn’t name, a smirk dancing along his lips.

“Eavesdropping…?”

Now, you rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look.

“Not on purpose, no, but… Whoever this other girl is, defending her like that to your girlfriend surely won’t earn you any points.”

His laugh took you by surprise, and you looked at him as he leaned his forearms on the island top, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. His hair kissed his forehead.

“I wasn’t defending some ‘other girl’,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I was defending you.”

You faltered at that, blinking with parted lips.

“She said something about having to talk to you just to see me and…” he shrugged. “I didn’t like it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, simply settling for ‘oh’.

“Trust me there is no other girl…just you, and it’s not your fault that my stepmom is more interesting to be around than that stuck up bimbo.”

You didn’t like the way he talked about her, but he was patting your hand and leaving the kitchen before you could reprimand him on it.

You weren’t all that surprised to find your living room occupied by familiar faces—more than used to it—but you were taken aback when one of those familiar faces greeted you with a charming grin.

“Hey, Mrs. Cameron…”

Kelce’s tone made you roll your eyes, and you didn’t miss the way Topper lightly hit his arm.

“Afternoon,” you said, a comment about the weather on your lips when the dark skinned boy was suddenly on his feet.

“Let me help you with those,” he hurried to say, taking half of the grocery bags before you had a chance to protest. “They look kind of heavy for you.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” you lightly told him.

You supposed that Kelce found himself with a bit of a crush on you—you weren’t stupid—but it was harmless. After all, it manifested in ways such as him complimenting you when he saw you and helping you put groceries away. It was hardly anything to find fault in and complain about. At least, that was how you saw it, but evidently others didn’t agree.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The cold voice had you both pausing, and for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn it was Ward, but no one was more surprised than you to come face to face with Rafe. You blinked in confusion at him, but the blond only had eyes for his friend, those baby blues narrowed in a way you hadn’t seen in some time. He looked at Kelce like he wasn't a friend, and you took a few steps towards him.

“Kelce was just-.”

“I know what Kelce was doing,” was all Rafe said, his tone and few words enough to make the young man in question slink away.

You watched him disappear with a scoff, slowly looking at Rafe again.

“He’s your friend, Rafe. No need to be rude,” you lightly scolded.

The blond rolled his eyes, slowly rolling his head to look at you with a gleam in his eyes that made you freeze for half a second. He’d been so nice to you lately that you sometimes forgot how mean he could be—how mean he could look—but that glint in his gaze was gone just as fast as it came. A smirk ghosted over his lips, and there was nothing humorous about it.

“I need to be rude because he’s my friend,” he said, finally moving to help finish putting up the groceries. “He’s been sniffing around you for months, and you’re just lapping it up.”

You frowned at Rafe, prepared to say something against that when his next words forced you to swallow your words.

“I know my dad’s kind of been…” he slowly ran his gaze over you. “...dropping the ball lately…”

You reared back at that, completely aware of what he meant.

“...but don’t encourage Kelce. You might find it sweet, but he’d fuck you in a heartbeat if he could.”

“Rafe!”

He ignored your outburst, slowly brushing by you as he put some spices up in the cabinet. When you looked over your shoulder, he was nearing you again, and he chuckled when his hand rested on your back.

“He’s my friend,” he softly said, his voice sounding like it was right at your ear. “No one knows what he’s thinking more than me.”

You didn’t doubt that—and you surely didn’t deny it—but you still didn’t appreciate his callous tone and words. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he left the kitchen, taking slow steps to stand at the entrance as he rejoined his friends. You couldn’t see them, but you could hear them, and you pressed your lips together at the sound of Kelce’s apologies.

“You know he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Topper’s voice echoed. 

You chose to tune them out, turning away to gather the empty bags.

Rafe’s words—and the look he gave you—took up your thoughts, and there was a  bitter taste in your mouth that you swallowed down. You didn’t appreciate his commentary on your romantic relationship with his father, both because it was embarrassing and wholly inappropriate. Was it that obvious to everyone else how isolated you and Ward had become from one another? You hated the idea of Rafe and his friends sitting around and talking about it.

While your relationship with the blond had improved, there were times where he definitely talked to you like less of a stepson and more like a friend. You preferred if there were some boundaries, but you reminded yourself that this was Rafe and maybe this was the best you’d ever get. You asked yourself if you really preferred how things used to be over whatever this was?

Rafe only chuckled at you a few weeks later when you brought it up.

“Come on, you know it’s mostly just teasing,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, I see how much my dad’s work bothers you when it pulls him away.”

He shrugged again.

“Sue me for trying to make you laugh about it…”

He was helping you put up clothes that you’d washed, and your gaze traveled to the dresser, eyes landing on a picture of the man in question. Rafe had always been observant, that had never been one of the issues with him. It was always getting him to do something with what he’d observed that was the problem. If someone had told you a year ago that you would be discussing your marriage with Rafe of all people—even just casually—you probably would have laughed.

You weren’t laughing today though.

“I appreciate the gesture…sort of but…that’s not your place, Rafe,” you sighed. “You’re supposed to illegally drink and get high and do stupid things with your friends. You are not supposed to concern yourself with how my marriage to your father is going.”

You paused.

“...even if it is just a joke.”

You heard Rafe make a noise you didn't recognize, and when you looked at him, his gaze was already on you. He’d long stop folding Ward’s shirts it seemed, content to lean against the nightstand and watch you. His expression was even—unreadable—and when he tilted his head to the side, he hummed.

“Why not?”

You hadn’t expected that response.

“He’s my father, and you’re married to him, and that does affect me in some ways. It affects all of us actually…”

You frowned at him.

“You think Sarah and Wheezie haven’t noticed?”

You deflated a bit at that, eyes widening a tad.

“You don’t think they talk about how different things are between you lately and if you’re getting a divorce?”

You slowly shook your head, lips parting, but Rafe continued before you could say anything. 

“Who do you think has to reassure them? Because they’re definitely not going to talk to either of you,” he scoffed. “I think I should be allowed to comment on your relationship because if it goes south…well…we lose another mom.”

You looked away at that, entirely unprepared for the turn this conversation had taken. Rafe had a point, you had to admit, and you almost felt silly for expecting Rafe to have no opinions on a relationship that he was correct in saying affected him. Attempting to lighten the mood, you let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, let’s be honest. You never thought of me as much of a mom, anyway,” you folded a shirt. “Ward and I are not getting divorced anytime soon, but if we did, I have a feeling you wouldn’t be too bent out of shape over it.”

The other man didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced at him again you realized why. He’d moved closer—you hadn’t even heard him do so—and you watched him take the shirt out of your hand. His fingers brushed yours as he did so, and Rafe pursed his lips, eyeing the shirt in his hands.

“That might’ve been true some time ago, but… I’ve come to appreciate you a lot more than I have before.” 

He continued before you could even smile at that.

“The potential our relationship has and…what we can do for each other…”

He looked between your eyes as he said this, and the longer he stared at you, the more off the silence felt.

“Right,” you slowly said, and Rafe only smirked.

“My dad hasn’t really been doing his part to keep you happy in this family,” you shook your head at him, but he ignored it. “...and I get it. Work and all that, but I actually like having you around now. Especially when you walk around in those tight little one pieces…”

You stumbled back at his words, heart dropping to your stomach.

“Rafe-.”

“I mean, I doubt you’d ever leave…but you would be a lot less likely too I think if someone else was picking up his slack.”

You were acutely aware of how quiet the rest of the house was—because it was empty. Wheezie and Sarah were both with friends, and Ward was out, leaving just you and Rafe. That fact had you blinking, and while some part of you wanted to write Rafe’s words off to a sick joke, something deep down knew that he wasn’t anything less than serious.

“What…? Kelce of all people can flirt with you, and you eat it up, but here I am telling you I’m going to do what my dad can’t, and you look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin,” he chuckled with a shake of his head.

“I’m not married to Kelce’s father,” you breathed. “...and he’s like a horny teenager. He’s of no consequence—Rafe…you’re in your father’s bedroom…telling his wife that…”

You couldn’t even get the words out, and Rafe grabbed your arm, pulling you closer.

“That what? That I don’t understand how my dad can have a wife like you and still prioritize work?”

You attempted to move away, but Rafe’s strength took you by surprise, gasping when he held you against him, one hand finding a home on the curve of your waist.

“That I get why Kelce keeps seeing if you’ll give him an ‘in’ because I feel the exact same way? Except, unlike Kelce, I don’t really care about getting permission?”

That angered you, and you were sure it was all over your face.

“Rafe-.”

He swallowed what you were about to say with a kiss, effectively shutting you up. If his strength before had surprised you, it was nothing in comparison to the feeling of Rafe lifting you and depositing you on Ward’s bed. It shook under your combined weight, and he was moving at a pace that was hard to keep up with. Rafe’s mouth was all over you, and so much was happening that it made it hard to think straight.

“Rafe…stop,” you gasped.

“Why?” he wondered against the skin of your stomach as he pushed your dress up. “How long has it been? How many months? You can’t tell me that you won’t enjoy this.”

You pushed at his head, but it was of no use. When his mouth attached to your cunt, you reached out to clutch at the bed, thighs almost crushing his head as you tensed beneath him. The feel of his tongue sliding between your folds had your eyes rolling, and deep in the back of your mind you hoped and prayed that no one would walk through that door.

You didn’t even want to imagine what this would look like should someone come up the stairs.

With his arms hooked around your thighs, he rolled you both until you were sitting on his face, and once again his strength had your head spinning. It seemed that in this position you;d surely have more of an upper hand now, but Rafe’s grip was strong on your legs. To your dismay, you couldn’t lift yourself off of him, and you had no choice but to press your hand into the mattress as he ate you out. His head moved beneath you, moving from side to side as he lapped at you, panties harshly pulled to the side.

As you felt how wetter you were becoming under his ministrations, you thought about his words—about how he said you’d enjoy this.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right, but the way he hummed told you that your body was doing that for him. You cried out when he slipped two fingers into you, stretching you out in time with tasting you, and the only sound in the room was that of your harsh pants and the wet sound of his tongue and mouth between your legs. He only allowed you to roll off of him when you came—hard and mind shattering and everything that you hadn’t felt in months.

You were a panting and overheated mess as you laid there, eyes wide and unblinking as you tried to process what had just happened. As you did, you could hear Rafe moving behind you, and only then did you attempt to gather your thoughts and sit up. You were embarrassingly wet, and the fact that Rafe was the cause had your head spinning and stomach turning. Before you could turn around and ask him what the hell was wrong with him, his hand was in your hair.

You’d only just gotten it done, and he twisted the braids around his fist.

He shushed you when you cried out, using that same strength to push you back down. His other hand was in between your legs—stroking you and fondling you and sinking his fingers into you again and again. With your dress around your waist, you could feel his bare skin against your thigh. You could feel the length of him and how hard he was, and while half of you feared what was to come, the other half couldn’t help but to make you clench around his fingers at the thought of Rafe sinking his cock into you.

“You’re so fucking tight, you know that?”

He pulled his fingers out before pulling at your panties, the fabric stretching painfully before they tore completely. 

“My dad must only fuck you once a month,” he chuckled to himself.

“Rafe,” you scolded, attempting to push against him, but your movements faltered when the head of him pushed into you.

It made you sharply inhale, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he slowly sank into you inch by inch. His hand was still tight in your hair, pressing your head down to the mattress while he forced you to arch your back. You heard him cursing the more he filled you, and when his hips were flush with yours, he wasted no time in pulling out before swiftly sliding back inside of you.

You couldn’t swallow down your moan.

“That’s it,” you heard him breathe. “You missed this, huh?”

He wasn’t wrong, but Rafe was also…longer than his father. Thicker too, and the stretch was something you weren’t used to. The feel of his cock made your toes curl, and you clawed at the expensive bedding, hating the way you started to meet his thrusts. Your brain felt like it was taken over by a fog, only able to focus on Rafe fucking you and chasing your high by using his cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and you were so grateful the house was empty.

You were embarrassingly loud.

You felt unable to control yourself, crying out as you clenched around him and words tumbling from your lips that you didn’t recognize. Had you begged him to fuck you harder? Stretch your pussy? Come inside of you? It was possible, to be honest. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed this feeling until it was your stepson of all people giving it to you.

When you eventually found yourself on your back—and face to face with Rafe once again—you were lifting your hips to make him sink into you faster every time. Your dress had long been discarded, underwear hanging off of your hips in tatters, and your nails were pressed into his back. If Rafe was bothered by the feel of that, he didn’t say anything, but you doubted that was the case. He was too occupied with connecting his hips with yours and plunging into your soaking cunt. The sound of your coupling was loud—the squelch of your core reaching your ears with every thrust—and you absentmindedly noted that you’d never been this wet in your life.

Was it the way he’d just taken what he wanted? You’d never been the kind of woman into stuff like that. Perhaps it was the obvious though—the forbidden nature of it all. Rafe was your husband’s son, and he was fucking you—on Ward’s bed no less. You’d never been into stuff like that either though. Everything about this was nothing at all like you, and when Rafe’s phone lit up on the bed—a familiar name popping up on the screen—your heart sank.

His girlfriend.

You’d forgotten all about her too although you weren’t so sure she and Rafe were even together anymore. You hadn’t seen her or heard about her in some time, not since that day she came by the house, and his words and demeanor that day suddenly made more sense to you. He had been consuming so much of his time with you, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. Now, though…

You had no choice but to acknowledge what had been right in front of you all along.

You threw your head back as Rafe thrust into you slow, your legs parted as he rested on his knees, his gaze focused on where his cock disappeared into you. You looked down too, growing wetter at the sight of your juices on him. You were literally dripping around the length of him, making a mess of your thighs and the bedding, and when Rafe spoke to you the first time, you didn’t hear him.

“What…?” you breathed, looking at him through hooded eyes.

“I want to come inside of you so bad,” he purred, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Want to fill you up on his sheets and let it drip out.”

You didn’t say anything to that, but the way you clenched around him made Rafe chuckle.

“Does that turn you on? Hmm? Does my dad know what a whore he married?”

His thrusts grew rougher, making you gasp.

“I should probably be grateful though. Anything less, and you would’ve fought harder to stop me,” he murmured. “...but you didn’t because you knew you’d enjoy this. You knew you’d like fucking me.”

You could feel how close you were—and you were sure Rafe could too—and you dug your nails into his arms. You did want him to come inside of you, you wanted to feel him twitch as he spilled into you—filling you up and coating your walls—and you wanted to push it out after he pulled out of you. Ward always used condoms, and you understood it. He didn’t want any more children, and you were so far from menopause, but you couldn't even care about that right now as Rafe pushed you towards both of your highs.

When he came, he came with a loud grunt, and you couldn’t stop moaning as the feel pushed you over the edge. You swore that you felt him deep in your gut, his hips roughly slapping against yours as he forced you to milk him dry. Your legs shook and your vision blurred, and you were disappointed when Rafe didn’t stay in you long enough. Your heart was going a mile a minute, and you couldn’t move.

You just laid there with your legs strewn about, Rafe’s cum between your folds and sweat clinging to your skin. When you finally looked at him, he was running his hand through his hair, but it did no good. It was so damp with sweat. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just fucked his father’s wife, and when his gaze met yours, there was a haughty smile on his lips.

“He’ll probably be working late tonight…”

You swallowed at that, hating the way your heart jumped.

“...so you’ll have to be quiet while he’s in his study.”

[mv1simp]

for the bully!Max, Leclerc!Reader and chubby!reader simps in my requests…I heard you and I’m here to deliver 😼😼 enjoy!!

You Belong To Me ♥️

Bully!Max Verstappen x Chubby!Leclerc!Reader

say it louder, say it louder, who’s gonna love you like me (who’s gonna fuck you like me?)

Growing up as the youngest daughter in the Leclerc family, you’d had a childhood crush on your brother’s rival and friend, Max. But when you grew older he turned into your worst nightmare, always bullying you. You’ve been able to avoid him for the last 5 years - but now with your new engineer job on the paddock, you can’t hide from Max any longer…and can’t stop the feelings you still have for him.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub, dark! Max who bullies innocent virgin!reader, dub con, brainwashing, bimbofication, somno, yk all the good shit, WC 9k 😨

You shiver as you walk into your family’s childhood vacation home along the Cote de Azure despite the summer heat. It’s been a long time since you’d visited this house. Even though your Mama and three older brothers came by often, looking for a weekend break from their busy lives or a romantic getaway with gorgeous girlfriends, you’d always turn down their offers to join once you were in college. They'd always be confused at your hesitance - but then again, they don't know just how many bittersweet memories this home holds for you. You’d grown up here in the summers, the youngest daughter of the famous Monegasque Leclerc family. Racing was in your bloodline, and your beloved Papa had instilled his passion into all of his children before he’d passed away.

Your older brothers, who were all handsome, tall and athletic, made natural drivers right from childhood and easily progressed through the karting competitions. Meanwhile, you were the youngest and the only daughter, and were raised in a far gentler manner as the apple of your family’s eye, their cute bunny as they’d nicknamed you, after your favourite childhood pet. In comparison to your brothers who ran around outdoors, you were more shy, preferring to be left with your books and colouring pencils in the safety of the patio.

Of course, with all your differences, there had been the healthy sibling rivalry of brothers vs sister growing up. They hated being forced to play house or pose for your scribbly drawings (not Arthur though - even at age 5 you were convinced he secretly loved when you made him join the Barbie tea party.) And in turn, you'd alway complain when you’d be dragged to cheer on Charles from the sidelines as he won his karting competitions. You would sulk, childishly annoyed at your parent’s attention shifting from you to their middle son’s rapidly growing racing career.

But it all changed when Charles raced against Max Verstappen for the first time at age 11. The blonde Dutchman aggravated your competitive older brother immediately with his aggressive driving tactics. You’d heard Cha, as you’d been calling him since you were little, furiously ranting about the illegal moves Max had been pulling and your 7 year old brain tuned it all out. But when you first saw the mysterious blonde in question, your heart fluttered with a feeling you’d never felt before and a bright blush overtook your chubby cheeks.

You immediately became infatuated with the older boy, who was far nicer to you than Charles had been back then. Your middle brother's idea of “sibling time” involving hiding beetles in your bed and laughing when you screamed. So it became a common sight to see you wandering after Max instead of being by your family’s side, tugging on his shirt sleeve and showing him the racecar drawings you’d made. Max always entertained you, ruffing your hair and smiling back toothily, telling you that you were a much better artist than his little sis Victoria.

You’d beam from the praise, only leaving Max’s side when his scary father Jos would approach and eye you with disdain. You scampered back to your family, to your older brothers who accused you of the worst crime imaginable to the loyal Leclerc blood - exchanging racing strategies with the enemy Dutch. Your mother had hit all three sons on the back of the head and told them they could learn a thing or two about treating Bunny with respect like that cute boy Max did.

As you grew older, your pigtails were replaced with cute pins and headbands in an effort to look pretty whenever Max would come around to your summer home. By now, his rivalry with Charles had turned into a reluctant "frenemies who also spent summers together to discuss racing". You'd get to be with Max all day, swimming in the turquoise ocean and eating sweet stroopwafel that he always brought. An int he evenings, the two car-obsessed 14 year olds would be arguing about overtaking strategies at your family’s dining table. You’d pout, childishly wanting attention at age 11, interrupting whatever stupid point you're sure Charles was making to bat your eyelashes at your guest. Holding up your now detailed drawings of a black kart, you asked Maxie - as you’d taken to calling him - if he liked your recreation of his.

He’d grinned at you, still boyishly handsome and in the lanky phase of growing up as he told you he loved it, should he sign his autograph on it? with that Dutch accent you adored. Charles watched your shenanigans with a roll of his eyes, snidely muttering (in French, thank god) that the annoying little bunny wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her crush on the enemy Dutch. You flushed, frantically checking to make sure Max hadn’t been able to understand, and had run off with a red face to tearfully rat him out to your Mama. Unlike Charles, she found your crush on Max rather cute, and always encouraged you to give your favourite ribbons and bows to Max for a good luck charm the way you did with your brothers pre-race (Traitor, teen Arthur and Charles mouthed at you).

She eyed you knowingly when you do your best to avoid blushing as you grew older still, this time seeing Max when you were 14 and him 17 with an impressive winning streak in the Junior Redbull team. He’d started to develop into his tall 6 foot frame now, towering over your tiny 5”2 frame like your brothers did. What, no drawing of a racecar for me to sign Bunny? he gently teased, leaning down so you could shyly kiss both of his cheeks - a Monegasque tradition Max had become accustomed to from your family. You stuttered out your no, of course not, you were too old for that now! making him laugh at how cute you looked before walking off. Arthur watches the exchange with a smirk, elbowing Cha when he emerges from the changing rooms. Your middle brother’s frenemy status with Max was more of a friendship these days, and his earlier accusations of you being a traitor had turned into something much more annoying. Max and Bunny, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-

But by the time you turned 16, your Maxie changed from the sweet, laughing boy you’d always trusted into someone darker, someone who you felt scared of at times. You were at the age where you now wanted Max as your boyfriend, naively thinking that the 19 year old driver would return your affections when he’d attended your Sweet 16th. You’d spent hours getting ready, styling your long curly hair and wearing a cute dress all your friends had insisted you would be irresistible in (but had almost given your older brothers an aneurysm). It was tight and short, and although you'd always been a chubby kid, you feel a self conscious of the new plush curves around your hips and chest, in comparison to your older brothers who now looked very handsome and muscular.

You’d lit up when you saw Max across the fancy yacht club, flooded with all your schoolmates and family friends who’d come to celebrate the baby Leclerc’s birthday. He'd looked so handsome, his muscular frame now filled out and catching the eye of many girls. There was a devilishness in his smile that came with the confidence of being the youngest F1 driver in history. Lately, your innocent crush had started to drift towards naughtier, dirtier fantasies about what Max’s large hands and lips would feel like on you, if he snuck into your bedroom in the middle of the night and told you he loved you as you willingly gave him your first kiss.

But all your naive hopes come crashing down when you see a slim, sexy blonde approach Max where he’s talking to Charles intently, drinking a beer. His hand squeezes her ass in a familiar motion as she wraps her arms around him, leaning up to give him a kiss. You quickly turn around in the crowd before you can be seen, heartbroken, and drown yourself in blurred conversations and slices of birthday cake. Max doesn’t even come to wish you happy birthday like he normally did, always with a special gift in hand. At some point in the night you’re talking to Charles and try to subtly ask who that blonde girl with Max had been. Your older brother gives you an amused look, asking if you still had your silly little childhood crush on Max? You adamantly deny it, and he smirks and tells you that was Giana, Max’s girlfriend and an Italian model. You’re upset, of course, but thankfully he changes the topic to tell you how Max had recommended his old F2 seat go to Charles, wasn’t that amazing Bunny? You nod mutedly, having become used to Cha being less and less aware of anything that went on outside his racing career these days.

After a sneaky shot of tequila your friend gave you, you have the courage to go approach Max. His girlfriend is still at his side and raises an eyebrow, pointedly glancing down at your figure to make it clear what she thought of your curvier body. What shocks you, though, is seeing an annoyed look on Max’s face as well, as he demands to know why you’re interrupting, couldn’t you see he was busy? You’ve never heard him speak like that and are confused, asking him why he’s being so mean, did I do something wrong, Max-

He cuts you off, smirking as he asks why you weren’t calling him Maxie anymore. The girl laughs at that, saying no way, she’s such a kid, she calls you that? A few of your older schoolmates have wandered over, curious to see what was going on and you flush from the embarrassment of having Max treat you like this in front of your friends.

From then on, Max just became crueler and crueler to you. It’s like he enjoyed seeing how you'd react, your cute chubby cheeks darkening with embarrassment as you avoided his gaze. Once he'd officially moved to Monaco, you ran into him everywhere as him and Charles formed a close friendship and would often hang out. Max would always time his harsh remarks just when your brother wasn't in earshot. He'd mock you about everything, from your childish appearance, to your innocently conservative outfits, your nerdy perfect grades, your animated Italian gestures and accent which he'd always seemed to adore growing up. Your popularity in school plummeted as your friends watched the talented F1 driver roll his eyes and mutter how pathethic you were when he heard you were reading romantic novels on Friday night instead of partying, saying the only reason you had any friends was because of your talented brother’s fame. Your family had no idea what was going on - as Max’s bullying started the same time your Papa becomes unwell and landed in hospital. Your brothers thought the change in your sweet demeanour was because of your sadness for your father.

If only they knew the real culprit was right under their noses.

It seemed there was nothing teen Max enjoyed more than seeing your big brown doe eyes welling up with tears. He’d use everything you told him growing up against you, making gossip and rumours fly around your school constantly. Any guy who tried to talk to you was assumed to be doing it as a dare. The first few years of high school had been like hell - the only thing making it bearable being your perfect grades and promising future. Unlike your older brothers who were natural sportsmen, you were the opposite and excelled at academics, and you’d used it to get a full ride scholarship at a prestigious engineering course in the UK.

That’s what you reminded yourself to get you through a graduation party at the end of high school. You'd been reluctantly dragged by the small group of friends you’d thankfully kept despite all the bullying and rumours. In true Monaco trust fund kid fashion, the party was hosted on one of your schoolmates' yacht, with many juniors and older siblings tagging along as well. Towards the end of high school, Max’s bullying was less common as he became busier with his racing - something Charles had become fully invested in with his new F1 Alfa Romeo seat. And you’d grown up, too, maturing into your curves and pretty dark Italian features, catching the eye of a few boys in your year.

It seemed you’d been briefly relieved of your duties of being a social pariah when you're yanked into a circle of already wasted partygoers playing 7 minutes in heaven. But when your friend pulled out your name with a drunken flush, you could only widen your eyes in horror when the next name she announces was one you'd never expected - Max.

And then you see him, on the other side of the deck, leaning against the railing and ignoring the girls trying to speak to him as his ice blue eyes intently watch you. You squeaked out your protests, begging your friend to try again, but it's hopeless when the circle began charting your name and Max’s. Giving up, you turned around and ran through the crowd, trying to reach the ramp and get off the boat -

-when a large, warm hand wrapped around your waist and easily pulled you into a broad chest. Before you knew it, you're in a tiny, dark storage room, with Max Verstappen blocking the door and smirking down at you. Your naive heart still ached with conflicting feelings for Max, who was your childhood knight in shining armour, who always stood up for you when your older brothers ganged up on you, always knew how to make you laugh when you were crying from their teasing. But this was also the same Max who made your high school life hell, had teased you mercilessly behind your brother’s back, and used all the secrets you'd trusted him with against you. He'd make you look like a childish little girl in front of your effortlessly cool, rich peers. This reminder brought you back to your senses and you quietly but firmly ask him to let me out.

He hadn’t let you leave, of course, instead leaning down until he was whispering in your ear with his deep voice that still send shivers down your spine, mockingly asking if you’d had your first kiss yet or if you're still the same stuck up Leclerc who thinks she's too good to be fucked by anyone here?

Heart racing furiously from nervousness, you mumble out that you hadn’t had your first kiss, avoiding his ice cold eyes as he chuckled. You know his game well enough by now to understand he wouldn’t let you go until he gets his answer. You hated the boy you once hoped to give your first kiss to. He’d ruined your reputation beyond repair, had made it so no guy at school would touch you even if they found you pretty.

Well, apparently except for one boy.

Turns out Max himself had no issues laying his hands on you, hidden in the darkness of the storeroom. His hands had pushed you up against the wall, your face cutely scrunched up in confusion, and then your jaw almost dropped in shock when he pressed his lips to your ear. He huskily whispered how pretty you looked, how he’d hated the way boys had been checking you out all night. They didn’t know you’d already promised to marry Max when you were little, yeah Bunny?

And then he’d captured the surprised gasp you let out, shocked that he’d remembered your childhood wish to be his vrouw, his wife, when he leans down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss against your soft lips. When he pulled back, his face remaining close to yours, your brown doe eyes looked into his with whirling confusion and hurt - but also desire flickering in them. And then you’d both gotten lost in another kiss, then another, and then Max being Max had starting running his hands all over your body. Squeezing his hand into your juicy ass to make you shyly moan, and then greedily slipping his tongue inside.

That’s how everyone had found you when they yanked the door open, with Max having you moaning his name, one hand sliding up your skirt and the other running over your tits. The darkness in his gaze returns as he pulled back and left you leaning against the wall with wobbly legs. He laughed as he strode off the party, saying it’d been so easy to get you to beg for him like a little slut, who would’ve guessed with your innocent appearance?

You couldn’t wait to graduate high school and go to university after that. And it had been amazing, moving far away from Monte Carlo. No one knew who you were or how deep your history with world famous athletes like Charles or Max went. You reinvented yourself, becoming confident after months of therapy and your intelligence becoming something you were admired for instead of teased. You’d though that was the end of it, that you’d never have to be humiliated or have your heart broken by Max Verstappen again. Until 5 years later when you got a call from Lorenzo asking you to come home.

With the intimate engagement party of your oldest brother being held at your family’s scenic vacation home, you’d been unable to refuse. You knew Max was going to be there, but you’d taken a deep breath and reminded yourself that things were different now. You were 22, a qualified engineer and had used your own hard work to get a job within the Alpine garage - even using your mother’s maiden name as your last name because you wanted to prove it was because of your skill, not connections. Charles had been bewildered, begging you to please come work at Ferrari, bebe but you’d been adamant about needing to prove your own worth. You loved your family, and were so happy for Cha’s success as your relationship with your brothers blossomed into a close, loyal one as adults. It had always been your father’s dream to see him in the red suit. It was unbelievable to have millions of Tifosi literally worship your older brother - and their adoration extended to you, his sweet younger sister Bunny. You make rare appearances on the paddock but were hailed as a good luck charm when you did, Tifosi cheering when you affectionally kiss your brother on both cheeks and tie a hair ribbon to his suit. You always made sure to stay well away from the Redbull garage.

And you’d become radiant in your beauty, too, in pretty, flattering dresses and fitted miniskirts that showed off your soft stomach and thighs, your generous cleavage and juicy ass. Full, lush lips and long dark curls framed your sweetheart face and you’d been finally been able to put makeup on without fear of being mocked. A few guys had tried to ask you out in college, but you hadn’t been quite there yet in your confidence to say yes. Max had seemed to put you off all men, for now at least….and your protective Italian brothers seemed to make it their personal mission to protect your honour and integrity. Very dramatic, you’d said to them with a fond roll of your eyes, secretly enjoying how they cared for you despite their luxurious celebrity lifestyles. So you’d ended up still being a virgin at your college graduation, wanting to save it for the man you fell in love with.

You reminded yourself of all that you had to offer, of how you weren’t the same nerdy little girl who was going to be bullied, when you heard Max would be joining your family prior to the engagement party. The night before he was meant to arrive, you’d been overthinking and anxiously wringing your fingers so hard that your whole family had started demanding to know what was troubling you. After giving them some weak excuse about being worried about your new job, you'd gone to read one of your romance novels by the pool after dinner to destress. You had ended up falling asleep under the stars, your tired mind eager to rest.

You didn’t know the man you were desperately hoping to avoid had landed a night earlier with his private jet. When he’d greeted your middle brother late in the night, saying he would crash for now and greet everyone properly in the morning when they were awake, Charles had gone to bed and the last remaining light of the house switched off. Only the silver moonlight illuminated your pretty face and unsuspecting figure when Max Verstappen stepped outside his bedroom's French doors, hoping to cool off - but instead felt his blood pumping heatedly at the sight of you.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to see you for years as you'd understandably fled to the other side of the continent the second you had the change to escape. You’d turned from a nervous, cute schoolgirl into a gorgeous woman, and his intense gaze hungrily roams over your peaceful sleeping body. He was going to ruin you, he thinks wickedly, gently stroking your still chubby cheeks that subconsciously leaned into his touch.

He decided to give you one last night of quiet as he left you in deep sleep, walking back inside with dark desire brewing. The childish bully he’d been as an angry teen, desperate to prove himself, was gone. He was now a thrice proven world champion, a millionaire, a man who’d been with dozens of women but found only one he still wanted through it all. And it was none other than his racing rival's sweet younger sister, the one who'd stayed loyal to him since she was little. He was ready to make you his, whether you still wanted him or not.

When you finally saw him at breakfast the next morning you had been suspicious at his pleasant behaviour, greeting you like he would any family friend and asking how college had treated you. Your whole body had gone stiff, eyes distrustfully following his every move. You’d been forced to respond back politely as your family watched you, your mum still grinning as she rooted for her daughter to become romantically involved with her childhood crush. If only your family knew how much Max tormented you, they’d never let him get within 10km of you again. But to your surprise, Max kept up his kind manner even when your family would be out of the room, laughing and smiling easily at you and somehow bringing confusing butterflies back to swirl in your stomach. After the week he'd spent at your vacation home, you'd naively started to think maybe he had changed. Maybe the five years away had made him mature into the charming, funny driver you'd seen in numerous interviews and ads, being unable to avoid his far reaching fame.

But it turned out his respectful behaviour, all through the engagement celebrations and the after party, only served as a ploy to get you to foolishly lower your guard. Max had greedily collected up all the information he’d missed over the years, about what your likes and dislikes were now, about how you’d gotten a job with your own means at the F1 paddock. And then he casually informed you over dinner that he’d spoken to Horner who was coincidentally looking for a mechanical engineer - and had wanted to interview you after seeing your resume. Your family had been ecstatic at a job for you in a prestigious garage, despite their blood thirsty Ferrari loyalty. Even Cha had caught you after dinner, telling you that it was thoughtful of Max to look out for you, that as your big brother he’d feel so much better if you were working in a winning team’s garage and being protected by Max, instead of alone in a poorly performing team.

You were so confused, couldn’t understand why Max was trying to get involved - and you told him so that night, hushed angry whispers in the hallway after everyone had gone to bed. He’d smirked, leaning down to press you into the wall, saying Wasn’t it obvious Bunny? I want you.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you stammered out your confusions, asking him why he would say such a thing, only to feel his lips brushing your ear. His deep voice murmured his explanation of how his father didn't think Max had been focused enough when he was younger, had wanted him to throw all distractions to the side...including you. I'm a three time world champion now, Max said with a cocky grin. It doesn't matter what he says anymore, I do what I want.

Although his initial words about how the change in his behaviour being due to his controlling father sent a pang of empathy through you, you hadn't come this far to just give in. You pushed him off you with all your might, only being able to get a couple of inches as you glared and said you're delusional, Max, if you think I'd ever forgive you. Much less want you back after the hell you put me through. Storming off, you naively thought that was the end of it, that Max would back off once he saw you weren't the same lovesick girl he could toy with anymore. Not gonna call me Maxie anymore? he teases at your retreating back.

You should have known Max always got what he wanted, because he finds his way into your bedroom later that night. It was stupid to not lock your room because you think he wouldn't lay a hand on you when under the same roof as your brothers. Softly closing the door behind him, Max's dark gaze took in your curvy, sleeping figure in your childhood room. It was still decorated with your younger self's belongings as your Mama had always wanted you to feel welcome - but you had never come back after graduating. So you slept against a large plushie Bunny, cutely dressed in a pink matching shorts and camisole set. The twisted desire to corrupt the sleeping beauty in front of him rushes to Max's head - and his hardening cock- and he doesn't hesitate to slowly run his large palms over your body. He teasingly slides one hand up your sheer camisole to graze your large tits and the other down your shorts, to lightly toy with your pussy through cotton panties. The sweet dream you'd been having started to turn into a dirty one from the stimulation, and you instinctively grind back against the warm, hard body pressed into your back as you moan sleepily.Your dream is getting more and more heated as Max plays with your sensitive body, and only when you’re starting to drench your panties with slick do your eyes hazily blink open. Your adorably confused expression turns him on even more as he captures your gasp in his mouth, using his tongue to explore the inside of your mouth. Soon he has your panties pulled to one side and his thick finger sliding into your dripping folds. Your muffled protests have started slipping into confused moans, and he doesn't need to keep you silent any longer as start kissing him back when your body's frustrated needs take over your mind's denials. Max looks down on your face, memorising how pretty your wide brown eyes looked as you teared up, and he whispers filthy things in your ear to send you off the edge and spiralling into your first orgasm. You're so sensitive, bunny, you’re still a virgin aren’t you? Saved yourself just for me like a good girl, hmm?

You’d silently cried into your plush toy as you buried your flushed face into it, feeling lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you knew you shouldn't be feeling, that was wrong but felt so right. Drool stained your poor bunny plush as you bit down on it to muffle your scream of Maxie as waves of satisfaction rolled over you. You'd fallen back into a deep sleep after the overwhelming stimulation, distantly feeling Max's lips press a goodnight kiss to your tear stained cheeks. And when you awoke in the morning, you almost thought you'd imagined up the whole thing, a particularly naughty wet dream, but when you found that your panties were missing underneath your cute pajama shorts you knew there was only one person who would have taken them with him.

You didn’t even get a chance to confront him because you find out the very same day that Max had gotten his lawyer to cancel your Alpine contract and have Redbull send you a new one, complete with a generous signing bonus that anyone would be a fool to refuse. With your family watching you expectantly, you knew it would be too hard to explain your way out of this. So you reluctantly signed the 1 year contract, telling yourself it was only a temporary problem, that you would surely be hiding out the back of the garage and in the workshops, well away from your childhood bully.

That’s all Max needed to get you alone, to start his corruption of you, his favourite Leclerc sibling. Right from your first day, he’d welcomed you with a firm hug, his swollen biceps pressing you against his broad chest, squeezing your plump ass and making you squeal - but striding off before you could say anything. Or coming up behind you when you were bent over, tinkering on something, and making sure you could feel his impressive semi against your covered slit. You'd always desperately try to move away, anxious someone would see - but you stood no chance against the adult Max's strength when he tightened his grip around your thick hips and grinded himself on your jiggling ass.

He still teased you, sure, but now it came off as harmless flirting, steeped into your childhood friendship. And conflicting feelings swirled in your chest when you saw the lucky ribbon you’d gifting him as a kid somehow still tied to his seat, an ever present good luck charm. Everyone else would smile at you two encouragingly, saying you looked so sweet together, where you secretly a couple? No one seemed to share your nervousness around Redbull's champion driver, or pick up on the undertone of darkness in his intense gaze when he looked at you.

Soon he has you travelling exclusively with him, staying in all the same hotels, under the guise of being his personal mechanic for any last minute corrections. Charles loved it, saying this way Max could always keep a close eye on you when you were away from home. If only your overprotective brother knew he was sending his little sister right into the den of the lion. And the so called Dutch Lion was no longer holding himself back from taking your sweet innocence all for himself.

You'd always belonged to him, after all.

It first started when he’d gotten absolutely furious seeing you at a race afterparty in Miami, giggling cutely in a pretty minidress with an engineer you’d started to flirt with at work. Max had all but dragged you to his private booth, tossing you over his strong shoulder when you tried to stand your ground and stand firmly in your strappy high heels. He kicked all the models and B list celebrities trying to leech out of the dimly lit room, pushing your head down till you were staring up at him, your pretty face bathed in the red neon lights as you anxiously bite your glossed lip.

If you wanted to get fucked so bad, he growled deeply, unbuckling his belt and making your eyes go wide with fear as the biggest cock you’d ever seen emerges, you can just beg for it nicely like the good little slut you are, hmm? You’re sniffling, tears emerging in your wide doe eyes as you beg him please Maxie, please don't do this, I promise I’ll stop-

But he doesn’t listen to one pleading word, his twisted mind obsessed with one thing and one thing only - making the pure Leclerc sweetheart gag and choke on his mean cock. You knew better than to get in the way of what Max wanted, because he always ended up getting it. Instead you let your mind go blank, letting the guilty pleasure cloud your senses to ignore the reality of how mean Max was being, your pliant mouth dropping open as you let him ruin your throat. There isn’t a glimmer of his childhood sweetness in his dark, icy blue eyes as he memorizes the hypnotising sight of your chubby cheeks slurping at raging erection, the tears falling down your face at performing your first blowjob on your knees at a nightclub just making him impossibly harder. He groans as your sweet mouth slurps on his warm length, continuing to whisper his filthy promises to punish you and slipping into dutch as he climaxed. Fuck, fuck, erg lekker, so fucking good- He made sure your crying cheeks was pressed right into his tense abs when he finally emptied his load inside you, panting heavily from how good your heavenly tongue felt. He didn’t move until you followed his instructions and tried to swallow every drop. Your inexperienced mouth struggled, half of his sticky cum leaking out the corners of your mouth. He tutted mockingly, smearing his release all over your swollen lips with his thumb and saying he’d have to give your throat so much more training so it knew how to suck a cock, hmm?

Your cheeks burned with humiliation at failing to please him properly, even though he was practically forcing you to deepthroat him. The next day, when you woke up with no voice, you’d had to pretend you had a cold when seeing Cha for brunch the next morning.

And when he’d have a bad qualifying, he’d easily swipe his way into your hotel room two doors down from his. He often finds you in a cute silky babydoll, getting ready to sleep after a long day in the garage but making sure to dress prettily because you never know when Max is in a bad mood and wants to take it out on you. You had one more job to do, and that’s to make up for whatever mistake you must have made with the car and fucked up his hot lap, Max would argue. An angry Max always scared you so you would sweetly beg for his forgiveness, even for a mistake you would never have made on the car, letting him abuse your petite frame to vent his frustrations.

Tonight, he wanted to play with your breasts, sliding the silky straps off your nightie off your shoulders to hungrily eye your curves, tanned nipples quickly tightening from the chill. Can’t get enough of these pretty fucking tits, he said as he sloppily fucked them while you obediently kneeled in between his spread legs. You’re squeezing your plush chest together to cushion his raging erection, his angry red tip making you squeal when he growls and splatters cum all over your deliciously tanned skin. Knowing he’d get mad if you don’t let him mark his territory, you rub the sticky cream all over your hardened nipples and large breasts before you clean up his drooling cockhead with your mouth. He cooes his praises at you, telling you see, you’re perfect at this, maybe he’ll have you promoted from engineer to his personal cocksleeve to relieve his stress, hmm?

You feel so dirty at the wetness gushing between your legs at his filthy words, biting your lip at the thought of Max fucking you in his driver’s room while your brothers stood just a garage over in Ferrari. But despite his constant teasing, he knew to never cross the line fully with you and properly fuck you. That would scare you away, make you too anxious, and although he played rough and mean when he'd been younger, he now had the patience to wait and leave you wanting more, so that you'd be the one to come to him. So he edged you constantly, working you up only to pull away just as you almost climaxed, or pulling you in to sleep against his bare muscles chest so that you'd be able to feel his morning wood pressed against your soaked panties but be unable to do anything about it except dry hump him.

And his plan worked because after only a few months, your once pure and innocent mind has become utterly ruined for Max’s attention. The Dutch Lion has convinced you that you’re meant to be his plaything, and you can’t find it within you to try and deny him any longer. Would it truly be so wrong to give in to the naughty desires you’d been having about your childhood sweetheart, your school bully, your brother’s rival on track but friend that had been trusted to keep his little sister safe? When you’d grown too desperate to satisfy yourself by grinding on your pillow or your tiny fingers, you’d decided to entice Max even more in the hopes that he’d speed up defiling your innocence.

You’d certainly caught the Dutchman’s eye, as well as many other hungry gazes, when you started arriving on the paddock in cute heels and floral minidresses. And of course, your generous cleavage was out on full display in sweetheart necklines, instead of conservatively hidden in an oversized Redbull shirt. You’d made sure to have your lanyard tucked right in between your bouncing tits too, the label of Max Verstappen’s Enineering Team dangling and drawing attention with each bounce of your tits when you walked. Because you knew your Maxie just as well as he knew you, after all - and he was a intensely competitive and jealous man. You hadn’t even had to wait till the debrief as he’d hightailed it right out of the meeting room, taking you to his motor home through a back passage.

You still play the innocent little virgin, adamant on trying to resist him even though you're secretly finding it just as dirty and hot as Max does when he shoves you against the door, locking it firmly. Fuck, your body drives me wild, it’s all your fault that I’m getting distracted like this. How can you be such a naive virgin but walk around with the body of a slut just begging to get fucked, huh?

You frantically shake your head, trying to plead your innocence but he doesn’t hear your words, instead grabbing a hold of your miniskirt and asking if you understood girls with thick asses like you shouldn’t be showing them off unless you wanted attention, yeah? You started crying easily, already finding your thoughts going fuzzy as you slipped into submission, craving the way he’d degrade you for his own pleasure.

He’d have to punish you for distracting him, he said, even though he’d won P1 it had been torture seeing your fat ass bending over when you dropped your phone in front of him. You were lucky no one else had seen your cotton panties or he’d have to fucking kill them.

His possessive words make you shiver, doe brown eyes staring up at him expectantly and waiting for his orders. He swears at your obedient expression and guides your hand to his sizeable bulge, making you squeal, hoping it sounds like fright and not eagerness. He rubs your tiny palm across his pants, demanding to know just how the hell he was meant to focus with a hard on the whole race?

When you can’t answer him properly he smirks and tells you that you’ll just have to take your punishment like a good little girl, then. Within seconds he has you lying across his lap, your miniskirt up around your hips and white cotton panties pulled down to snugly trap your thick thighs together. And then he’s spanking you with his large hands, telling you to count and meanly restarting each time you lost track when he hits extra hard to watch your ass bounce. By the time he’s finally content your cheeks are red and burning, and you’ve left drool all over his sofa from your desperate efforts to muffle your wails.

You liked that, didn’t you, hmm bunny? He asks meanly. You start sniffling again at his mean words, cheeks burning with humiliation because it had felt soooo good but you felt so naughty for enjoying it. You'd die if he found out. So instead you tell him he was being so mean, Maxie, couldn’t he just be nice to you like when he’d been younger?

Your eyes widen as you blurt the words out instinctively, making Max’s expression grow stormy at your bratty reply. Ripping your panties off entirely, he stuffs them into his pocket and tells you to explain why you’re fucking dripping all over me then - running his thick fingers along your dripping cunny and smirking at the long strands of sticky wetness that connect to his fingers when he pulls away. When you don’t respond, too embarrassed by how your body has given you away, he slides the fingers into your closed mouth despite your attempts to turn your head. He makes you lick him clean, tasting yourself on him, murmuring if you were an good slut and spread your legs for him he might consider eating you out.

The ache between your thighs is almost as painful as your tender ass, now and your virgin cunny tingles from the idea of Max kissing you down there. Even though he’s being so mean to you, you can’t help but sit down willingly against the sofa arm and slowly part your thick thighs, blushing all the while as he examines you intently. You whine when his hungry gaze continues to linger, but he doesn’t stop, even taking out his phone to snap photos of your pussy after holding your thighs open to stop you frantically closing them when you see what he’s doing. It’s so cute and wet he murmurs, looking entranced as he slowly slides a single thick finger in and finds it completely sucked in by your tight, drooling pussy. Really, you’ve never let any boy except for me touch you here, not even with his fingers? At the shake of your head and shy murmur of no, just my own, I promise, Maxie he breaks into an evil grin. So this little virgin hole is really all mine, huh?

It turns out going down on you was really more of a punishment than a pleasure because he makes you cum 3 times with his skilled tongue. You’re begging him to stop, feeling overstimulated and completely wrecked, mascara stained tears running over your chubby cheeks. When he finally eases his sadistic torture after teasing flicks of his broad tongue have you squirting a third time, you’re too fucked out to protest him separating your puffy lips and spitting onto it, as if it belonged to him. Bunny, if your brothers knew the kind of things I was doing to their precious baby sister, Max says darkly. They’d want to slam me straight into the nearest barricade and have my head on a spike.

But your brothers remain as oblivious to your corruption as ever, with an endless supply of work excuses easily being used by Max and now you, as you started to fully give in and enjoy the intense pleasure being his personal fucktoy brought you. He’d taken your sweet virginity on a hot night in Singapore after beating Charles to P1, telling you that the best reward wasn’t the trophy but knowing he got to cum raw inside your untouched cunny. After plying you with champagne at the yacht afterparty, he'd taken you back and fucked you on the French chaise, not even making it to the bed. He’d been gentle the first time, huskily whispering praises in your ears as you desperately tried to adjust to the size, his cock so much larger than his fingers. He licked away the tears at the corner of your eyes as you bite his shoulder, lost in the waves of pleasure as you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally carries you over to the bed, climbing over your satisfied figure, you’re fooled into thinking he’s going to cuddle you. He’s turning you onto your front and you’re expecting to feel him behind you, bringing you into him as his little spoon. But your sleepy eyes go wide open when your thick hips are pulled up, and your flushed face pressed down firmly into the sheets. And then he whispers it’s time to fuck you properly, be a good bunny for me and take it, okay?

You wailed into the cushions, your open mouth leaving drool all over the pillowcases, as his cock bullies your tight cunny over and over. He reaches around to toy with your sensitive clit, smirking when your crying turned into confused moans of pleasure as the pressure in your pussy starts to feel so good. Soon he’s slamming his hard length into your twitching figure, slapping your red plump ass repeatedly and telling you how funny it’d be if Charlie found out his rival had claimed your virginity, hmm? Should he tell him next time the Ferrari driver tried to one up him on the track? You sob, begging him not to tell your protective brother, shaking your ass onto him and telling him he could even cum inside if he wanted instead of telling your brother. Max groans at your gullibility. Silly girl, he croons as he bends down to whisper in your ear, his muscled abs pressing down on you. I was always going to do that anyways, hmm? This ass belongs to me.

And then he’s groaning into your drooling mouth as his hips still above yours, draining his heavy balls into your pussy that had already been stuffed full of his thick, creamy load from the first round. Rivulets of your mixed juices run down the inside of your tights, overflowing from the sheer amount of cum he’s pumped you full of. You know better than to ask him to wear a condom, instead praying that it was the wrong time of the month to get knocked up. Especially when he doesn’t let you get up and try to pee it out, instead murmuring he’s just going to stuff a couple of fingers inside and make sure you don’t waste anymore, okay? You try to resist, crawling away and wanting to save your poor, overstimulated clit but once again Max easily holds you still. Hmm, guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson and use my cock to plug you up, he threatens meanly, making tears fall down your face again and his dick twitches with interest. Every man had his pleasures, and world champion Max Verstappen’s was to see the Leclerc baby crying and begging for him. Sick bastard, you think distantly as he sinks back inside your gummy walls and makes you keep his cock warm.

Your secret affair with the Dutch Lion continues easily throughout the year. And at the end of your contract, at the yearly FIA prizegiving, you attend with Charles instead of with the Redbull team, dutifully doing your part as the Leclerc sister now that your term at a rival garage was done. At one point you get up from dinner, saying you had to find the bathroom, but end up gone for 20 minutes, missing Cha being awarded overtake of the year for when his Ferrari had divebombed the leading Redbull. Later, when everyone is mingling, Charles walks over to Max’s table, shaking his hand and taking a seat to reminisce about the season. They’d come so far together from their childhood karting days, wasn’t it heartwarming now that they stood together on the F1 stage?

The two men laugh, catching up on missed updates during the busy end of season. Soon they’re talking about their love lives, Max congratulating Cha on his relationship he’s recently made public. The Ferrari driver warmly returns the compliment, saying whoever the Redbull driver was seeing recently must be treating him well because he’s never seen Max so relaxed before. He’s seen the gossip magazines speculate who the silhouette of a mystery girl seen making out on Max’s lap in a paparrazi shot through his car window. Max slyly commented that it was good the camera hadn’t been able to go lower, because then they’d have seen that she’d actually been bouncing on my dick underneath her skirt. Charles laughs at Max’s deviousness, patting him on the back for being such a shameless fucker.

Charles had forgotten to go find the youngest Leclerc, which was just as well because he would never have been able to guess where you had been hiding. You’re diligently on your knees, drooling on Max’s cock underneath the tablecloth, safely tucked in close between his spread legs. Your brother is completely unaware that the girl he and Max are joking about is his innocent baby sister, who’s currently worshipping his rival’s thick length eagerly. Paying the price for her brother’s overtake on the track with her glossy pink lips, just as Max had ordered you too when he’s found out what award his rival was getting tonight.

As the night continues, all formality lost as the party goers make use of the open bar, it was all to easy for the blonde Dutchman to make you follow him to the private bathroom. It’s so degrading, so mean of Max to do this, to have you on the dirty bathroom floor with your pretty curls unpinned from the classy updo you’d spend ages styling and your expensive silk dress hanging off your hips and exposing your bare tits to his hungry gaze. So slutty, no bra and all, hmm? You wanted me to fuck you tonight, didn’t you? Answer me! He slaps his hard length repeatedly against your chubby cheeks, wearing precum and making your perfect makeup run.

Soon mascara stained tears are dripping down your face as Max makes you finish sloppily sucking him off, his phone camera on you and recording every single filthy sound that fills the air. It’s obscene, the way his huge cock stretches your small plush lips open all the way and your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his tip grazes the back of your throat. Hmm, so eager to drink my cum, aren’t you? He coos, and you nod dazedly, your doe eyes glassy. Fuck, you’re such a good little slut, letting me do whatever I want you to your body. My own personal fucktoy. Bet you’d even let me piss down your throat if I wanted, huh?

You gag at this, trying to shake your head but finding it impossible with the strong grip he has on your hair. Max chuckles at your panicked expression, reassuring you not to worry, he wasn’t that mean. You don’t believe him, because later he bends you over the bathroom counter and makes you look in the mirror to see where his leaking cock slowly slide in to the hilt, stretching your cunny out yet again, filling it with his thick seed. You text Cha some excuse about feeling unwell and leaving early as Max buckles you into his passenger seat, knowing there was no way you could explain your absolutely wrecked appearance to your brother afterwards.

You’ve realized that the legal end of your Redbull contract really had no say on anything. Because at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was what Max wanted - and he wanted you to stay by his side, forever. So you let him take your hand in his a few months later at Lorenzo’s wedding, revealing the secret relationship to your family. Your mother is overjoyed, telling you both that you always had her blessing, ever since you’d been kids. Your brothers take a lot more convincing, of course, as well as Max swearing privately to Cha that you certainly hadn’t been the girl from the paparazzi car incident, he’d never treat the Leclerc princess like that of course!

Charles gives you two his begrudging yes, seeing how attentive Max was with you, always intently watching you whenever you entered the same room as him and always knowing where you were if you walked away. And the way you’d look up adoringly at the blonde, desire and love clear in your doe eyes. Soon you’ve accepted Max’s offer to move into his penthouse, unpacking all the lingerie and diamond necklace sets he’s been buying you for months. And when he comes home at the end of a tiring day, sighing and settling on the living room couch, you now know to anticipate Max’s needs before he has to tell you. You crawl over to him, wearing skimpy lingerie in his favourite colour, nuzzling your face into his clothed thigh and asking please Maxie, could you please suck him off, your mouth felt empty without him?

He places a loving kiss to your forehead and unbuckles his belt for you, cooing praises at what a good little pet you were being for him. This time, when he cums, you have no issue greedily swallowing every single drop of his hot, sticky cum, licking your well trained lips. So yummy, Maxie…Would you like my pussy or my ass next?

He smirks down at your slutty words, a dazed expression on your face, dumbly ready to please him however he liked, whenever he wanted to. Nothing quite beats having his own personal toy, even if it’s taken some time to break you in. Doesn’t matter now, though, because it has been worth it. Because you’ll never leave his side again, completely devoted to him, the concept of being with any other man ruined for you.

Time for him to make good on his childhood promise, Max thinks. Make you his vrouw, his wife, once and for all.

[giannaln4]

Lucky Bracelet

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Making friendship bracelets was one of your favourite things to keep you entertained during race weeks, and you just had to make a special one for your boyfriend.  (1.5k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, a couple sexual innuendos

a/n: guys look at me! two posts in one week? crazy. i'm honestly trying to clean up my inbox since i still have a few requests from before my break 😭 so if you sent one, i'm getting there, i promise! now, this is a little bit cheesy and there are a few weird time skips so I apologise for that, but i really hope you like it! pls let me know what you think 🫶🏻

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Being constantly surrounded by hundreds of people and the double amount of cameras was not something you liked, but it’s something you had to put up with given the amount of attention your boyfriend got; it was something you have learnt to deal with. Not that you were fully used to it now, but at least it didn’t make you as anxious as it used to when you first started dating.

At least now you found something that helped you get your mind off the intense atmosphere that surrounded you during race weeks: making friendship bracelets. You made a few when you went to see Taylor Swift in concert late last year, and it stuck with you since then.

You travelled with all the materials you needed: colourful beads and cotton threads, tape, scissors — the whole deal. It wasn’t like you made an insane amount of bracelets every time you accompanied Lando to a race, but if you were bored or overwhelmed, you knew you had something to do.

Today was one of those days; Lando was specially busy today, and given your shy and quiet personality, you didn’t know that many people around, so you decided to lock yourself in Lando’s drivers room and get to it, carefully picking the letters and colours you would use.

Lando hated to leave you alone. He was aware of the many things he had to do, but he didn’t expect them to take that long, so as soon as he got a little bit of free time to catch lunch, he went looking for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted one of the mechanics. 

“Hi mate, how is it going?”

“All good, thanks. It’s a bit hot outside but still nice.”

“And yet, you are wearing a hoodie.” He teased him.

Lando let out a laugh, well aware of his reputation. "Well, I still have to keep it in style, don’t I?”

“You do, we know.”

“Anyway, have you seen Y/N?” 

“She must be in your room. I haven’t seen her since the two of you got here this morning.”

He smiled, knowing exactly what you were up to if you hadn’t left the small space all day. “Thanks.”

Lando made his way to his room, carefully knocking on the door before coming in. He didn’t want to scare you and make you drop all your beads, which has happened more times than he would like to admit.

“Come in,” he heard you yell from inside.

He opened the door and gave you the sweetest smile you have ever seen. “Hey, I’m back.”

“Hey, what took you so long?” You dropped everything you were doing to direct your attention at him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know we would have to be there all morning, but I’m back for lunch.”

“It’s okay, and thank God, I’m starving.” You took a piece of tape to hold your bracelet in place and started to get up.

“What are you making here?” He asked you as he got closer to the small table, analysing what you had on display as the bright-coloured beads caught his eye.

“No, it’s a surprise.” You responded, quickly hiding your unfinished creation with your hands. 

“A surprise you say?” He came behind you to wrap his arms around you, softly kissing your head. 

You melted into his embrace and hummed in response, using one of your bags to hide it instead so you could hug your boyfriend back. “You can’t see it until you win this race.”

“Mhm, I see. What if I don’t win? When do I get to see it?” He questioned, not wanting to jinx his weekend, but he was still curious. 

“The next race you win.” You said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Got it. In that case, I’m gonna have to win this race.” He grabbed your hips to turn you around, kissing you on the lips once you were facing him.

You went to eat your lunch together as you normally did, enjoying each other’s company as you talked about anything you could come up with. Before you knew it, he had to go back to his duties, and even though you tried hard to act normal about being left alone so he wouldn’t feel guilty, he still noticed. He knew you better than you knew yourself, anyway.

“You can come with me if you want, that way you don’t have to be alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I know there are millions of people and cameras when you do these things."

He couldn’t help but feel guilty; he knew you were there to support him, so he hated to be apart from you when you did. “I’m sorry, love. I know you don’t feel comfortable when there are a lot of people around. You know you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to, you could always stay home.”

“If you don’t want me to come, just say that,” you joked.

“No, it’s not that,” Lando replied immediately. “I do want you here, I always do, but I hate that you feel like you have to hide.”

“Lan, I’m not hiding. Sure, I do prefer to stay inside, but it’s not because I want to hide from the world. Besides, that’s why I always bring something to entertain myself with. I’ll be fine, I promise,” you reassure him.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you. “But if you want to go back to the hotel, that’s okay.”

The rest of the weekend went on a lot quicker, even though he was just as busy. Qualifying and race days were a lot less boring since you got to see the cars from the garage, enjoying the full wag experience. 

As the race went on, you couldn’t help but feel anxious and excited at the same time. Lando started from pole (which made you assure him the night before he would get to see the bracelet after the race), but you still had the need to crack your fingers every once in a while. There were only a few laps left, and he had led the entire race so far, and with the gap becoming bigger, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

Once he finally crossed that finish line with a 21-second margin, everyone in the garage cheered and jumped, celebrating Lando’s achievement. A lot of people gathered outside to see him get off the car and celebrate his third win himself, shouting his name and patting him in the helmet to congratulate him.

When it was time for the podium, you decided to go get the finished bracelet you kept in your purse and held it close to your heart, feeling extremely proud of Lando for the amazing race he just had. You couldn't stop the few tears that left your eyes; it made you so happy to see him accomplish his dreams. 

The whole thing was finally over, and you waited for him right there so you could finally express how proud of him you were. 

“Congrats, baby,” you said, hugging him as if you hadn’t seen him in months. “You did amazing.”

“Thank you.” Lando couldn’t erase the big smile off his face as he hugged you back. 

“That’s a cool trophy you got back there.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care about that.” He said, puling away and looking down at you. 

“You don’t?” You asked confused.

“No, I’m still waiting for my real reward.”

“Oh… we can go back to the hotel-”

“No!” He interrupted you, laughing loudly at the fact that your mind went there. “I mean my bracelet, didn’t you say I would get it if I won this race? Well, I did, and now I’m claiming it.”

You laughed, your cheeks burning a bit from embarrassment. “Right, uh- it’s not that great compared to your trophy.”

“I’m sure it’s better than any trophy I could ever get.”

Man, he really knew how to be the sweetest boyfriend in the entire world. You pulled the bracelet out of your pocket, hiding it in your fist before dropping it in his hands. 

The colours were the first thing that caught his attention. Fluoro green and black beads. He inspected these first, until he got to the little letters that read ‘MY WINNER’. He almost couldn’t contain his tears; he was so endeared by you and how much you supported his passion.

“I love it,” he whispered, lifting you up and kissing you emotionally before putting you back down and sliding the bracelet in his wrist, admiring the way it looked there. “Thank you.”

“See? I told you you would get to see it today.”

“It must be a lucky bracelet, then. I’m never taking it off.”

You giggled at this, loving how Lando reacted to the bracelet you made with much love, but you still thought he was just messing with you. “You must be tired.” You teased him.

“Mhm. Now, about my other reward-”

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes as you let out a loud laugh, holding his hand as you made your way to the car.

[tpwk-formula1]

Omg hi. I just found you and cheered. I have a order.

Lando Norris, Thick Crust, Red Sauce,

Cherry Tomatoes, Root beer, Mango Smoothie,

Aftercare

If you could maybe make it a dizzy, inconcent reader where people flirt with her and she dosnt now and flirts back and Lando thinks the only way for people to leave her alone would be if she pregnant with his child. And he definitely has feelings for her. 🤭

✨️THANK YOU ✨️

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thick crust sugar daddy red sauce rough sex cherry tomatoes "I can't wait to watch you swell with my babies" root beer daddy kink mango smoothie baby trapping dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Lando x Ditzy! reader

AN: Okay! So I am so sad that I had to close my requests early but in a week I got over 100 requests which is fucking amazing and I am so happy for them but I want to make sure requests are coming out in a timely manner so I will be completely all requests within the next few weeks and once the Pizzeria is back open it will be a rebrand... So if you have any prompt ideas, kinks, or overall things you want to see get added to the menu just send me a message and I'll see what I can do!

TW breeding kink, baby trapping, pregnancy, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie, jealous Lando

WC 1200+

Y/N POV

"Danny! You can't just say things like that," I laugh loudly with the Australian in front of me. I can feel my cheeks growing red from the sexual joke Daniel just cracked.

I can feel a hand on my lower back making me look over my shoulder to find Lando making my smile grow more before I lean up and place a kiss on his cheek.

"What are you two up to?" Lando questions with a slight edge in his voice.

"Was just telling, Y/N about my summer break," Daniel says with a smile. I watch as Lando's face grows in a smile before he's ushering us towards the bar.

"Don't wander to far," Lando tells me making me look up and smile.

"Okay, babe!" I say when I place a kiss on his cheek.

"Are you okay?" I ask Lando softly making him nod his head before flagging the bartender down and ordering both of us drinks.

As time passed I found myself talking with Charles and Ollie.

"Charles! You'll have to invite me over sometime!" I tell Charles as he finishes telling me how he finally got Leo to stop peeing in the kitchen.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt but I'm just gonna steal her away. We have early morning plans so I gotta get this one off to bed," Lando says randomly interrupting making me raise a brow before trying to speak.

"Say bye," Lando tells me before I can even say anything.

I just turn back towards the two men waving a good bye before following Lando out of the club.

"I literally told you not to wander off," Lando snapped when we finally hopped into our Uber.

"Lando, I could see you the whole time," I reply back softly not understanding why he was so mad.

"Could you? Cause there was a solid 5 minutes where I was wandering around to find you," Lando tells me roughly making me huff and turn my back on him to look out the window.

Lando and I sat in silence for the rest of the car ride when we finally pulled up to his apartment building instantly making me get out and march to the front doors not waiting for Lando.

When we get into his apartment I lock myself in his bathroom still not wanting to talk to him, but eventually I had to face him and when I walked out of the bathroom I was changed into a silky sleep dress while Lando was sitting in bed in his boxers.

"I don't wanna see you entertaining men anymore. You're mine," Lando says not even looking up from his phone.

"Last time I checked, you were the one who was adamant we were nothing more than sex and money," I reply back while climbing into the bed next to Lando.

"Do you see the way you walked into my home like it was yours? How you climb into MY bed like it was yours? The way you have half my closet full of your stuff? That's all because you're mine, whether it has been a discussion or not, you have come into my life and fucked up any prior deal, so fucking sue me if I set a boundary with you," Lando finally snaps back making me look around his room realizing that over the year of us hooking up for money I had basically moved in. I had made his home our home and I didn't even realize.

"Lando, I think we should have this discussion when we are both fully sober," I tell him softly. I knew what I wanted sober or drunk I wanted Lando to be mine but was this just some drunk game Lando was playing.

"No, I'm barely fucking tipsy., I didn't even realize you didn't realize you were mine. I thought it was unspoken," Lando tells me softly before turning towards me and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Do you know how many men want to fuck you?" Lando questioned with a raised brow making me laugh slightly.

"Lando, you're the only man who wants to fuck me," I reply back with a roll of the eye.

"You're mine," Lando said moving topics again and pulling me in for a heated make-out session.

I quickly climb into Lando's lap and grind my bare pussy against his briefs making his groan slightly.

"I'm gonna put a baby in you," Lando tells me softly making me sit up and stare at him in complete shock.

"The fuck are you on about now?" I ask Lando before he pulls me back into for a kiss where he flips us over so I am now under Lando letting him grind into me backing me whimper.

"You're mine and when you walk around that fucking paddock in 6 months everyone will fucking know you're mine," Lando said while trailing kisses down my neck making it clear he was marking his territory.

"You're insane," I whisper back but it quickly turns into a moan because Lando is leaning down and taking a soft lick out of my clit.

"Daddy," I moan when Lando starts sucking on my clit while lightly teasing my soaked hole with his fingers.

"Oh fuck," I scream out when Lando slips 2 fingers in and finds my G-spot.

"I want you to cum on my fingers," Lando says while speeding his actions making me feel the band in m stomach start to grow tight letting me know I was close to cumming for Lando.

"Daddy," I scream out when the band finally snaps and I'm cumming all over Lando's fingers. Lando helped ride my orgasm out before he's pulling his briefs down and roughly shoving his cock deep into my pussy.

"Oh! Daddy," I gasp still not fully recovered from my previous orgasm and can already feel a second one building up.

"Fucking hell, so damn needy already gonna cum for me," Lando said with a smirk while bringing his hand down to my clit and giving it a rough rub bringing me closer to the edge.

"Daddy," I whine when I feel myself reach the point of no return, cumming all over Lando's cock with a shout. I was shaking and so long in my own pleasure, I don't feel Lando's hips shutter as he fills my pussy full of his cum.

"I can't wait to watch you swell with my babies," Lando groans with a smirk while slowly pulling out of me.

"Lando, I probably didn't get pregnant from one time," I tell him softly with a laugh falling from my lips.

"I'll fuck you until you do," Lando says with a shrug. That night we fell asleep tangled in each other's arms.

6 weeks later

"Fucking hell," I gasp while staring down at the positive pregnancy test.

"I told you, you were gonna have my babies," Lando said with a proud smirk.

"Lando, what the fuck are we gonna do?" I ask starting to panic.

"Hey, calm down! It's all gonna work itself out," Lando tells me softly while pulling me into his chest.

"I can't wait to see everyone's face when you show up to the paddock supporting a bump caused by me baby," Lando tells me making me laugh lightly.

I knew we would figure everything out. It wasn't how I pictured myself getting pregnant but boy am I happy it's how it happened.

[entirelysein-e]

『 Carving pumpkins 』

☼ synopsis: Just an afternoon date where you carve pumpkins together.

☼ characters: various jjk men

☼ wc: 0.8k

☼ notes: Just a smol something before Kinktober starts 🫶

Toji doesn't understand why there's pumpkins in the kitchen alongside knives and pictures of silly motives. He thinks it's silly that you'd want to carve pumpkins since that's for children but he has a lot of fun during your date since he's skilled with the knife and amazing at cutting out the designs you draw on. Toji is all soft smiles the entire time, enjoying how happy you seem.

Gojo was the one to bring home the pumpkins, taking you by surprise but then again, it's Gojo. He's never carved pumpkins before but you talked to him about it before and he figured it could be a fun date. His pumpkins look awful, horrendous even and one crumbled in itself from the sheer lack of carving talent but you two have too much fun to care, building a small pumpkin army.

Geto liked the idea of carving pumpkins with you and it's actually super comfortable. He made sure to cover the dinner table with newspapers for a less messy afternoon. His artistic skill kind of surprised you and he drew the cutest and most beautiful designs onto the orange bulbs. It was almost more fun to just watch him completely concentrate as he gently carved the pumpkins into your favorite ghibli character.

Nanami at first thought it's too messy but when he saw those glorious pumpkins at the grocery store he smiled to himself as he thought about how happy you'd be over the surprise. He only took two of them - but he was right. You were over the moon that you got to do this iconic fall activity with him, the pumpkin insides in his hair afterwards were so worth it. He mostly helped you empty them, leaving the actual fun part to you. Just seeing you happy was more than enough to him.

Yuuta and you had the same idea without telling each other. Imagine the surprise at all the pumpkins that suddenly crowded the kitchen? Granted, he was a little concerned about what to do with all of them but you had so many ideas that your neighbors sure would be jealous by how cute your front door will be decorated. You two spent the entire afternoon passing pumpkins back and forth, making them all together.

Choso didn't understand why it should be fun to play with food like that but he couldn't say no to your pout so he gave it a chance. Seeing you handle the knife so skillfully surprised and concerned him at the same time but he was a natural at this. He carved the cutest little design as his brows knitted together and his tongue stuck out ever so slightly. Choso was so focused on making sure everything went smoothly and slowly understood just why you wanted to do this with him.

Sukuna thought it was a childish idea and outright refused but he knew he couldn't stop you. When you came home with an army full of tiny pumpkins he had to stifle a laugh because you couldn't find the real big ones but it was entertaining to watch you draw on designs... and perhaps he carved one scary looking one too while you didnt look. It was impressive how good and unsettling it looked when you lit a candle in it and it fed his ego so well, he offered to make more, only for you of course.

Mahito pouted when you didn't allow him to use real human heads as decoration because that would be so much funnier and real as decoration. So he made it his mission to carve the scariest one he can muster. To absolutely no one's surprise, he made a little competition out of it but it was all fun and games, trying to make a better design than the other. However, Mahito won without doubt after using what felt like five million toothpicks to create the pumpkin of your nightmares.

Yuuji was so excited to spend the afternoon with you like this, trying to convince you to leave the carving to him. It's not like he didn't trust you with the knife but he didnt want you to accidentally cut your finger. His Pumpkins looked super silly but he tried his best, pouting a little when he saw just how good yours looked in comparison but when you move to sit on his lap to make the last one together the world was okay again and Yuuji had so much fun.

Megumi really didn't want to do this. Not with you, not with anyone and he thought that no one could talk him into it either. But you looked genuinely upset since you planned this date so he agreed to carve one single pumpkin. It was the smallest, tiniest face on a huge pumpkin and it honestly looked so silly. Just a little D: face but you kissed his cheek as you placed the candle inside the orange bulb, thanking him for doing this with you... Perhaps next year he would help you make a proper one.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[cazshmere]

Astrology Observations Pt. 8 🦂

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🦂

🦂 I think people who have their chiron in the 3rd/7th or 11th house may experience significant insecurity about posting on social media and being in front of a camera, or even commenting under various posts online. They often overthink the things they put out online/the things they were going to post online 😭 and also if they post pictures/videos they might rewatch the picture/video 984726261 times and often find a SOME tiny fault and convince themselves to delete whatever it is that they have posted. This placement can create a deep-seated fear of judgment and a tendency to second-guess every public interaction

🦂I have noticed that scorpio moons and capricorn moons have very involved and critical mothers/parents, exhibiting behaviors typical of helicopter parenting. For instance they could micromanage every single thing you do or have some sort of comment to make about every little thing you do (also applicable to aries and virgo moons). I also feel that cappy and scorpio moons may find it the hardest to detach from their generational trauma because their parents may have instilled strict principles/beliefs into them and they end up carrying forward all these beliefs which in return makes them more susceptible to repeating toxic patterns which then ends up causing A LOT of trauma to these individuals ❤️‍🩹

🦂 honestly taurus placements aren’t always mindful and demure, despite being ruled by venus. Most taurus placements (esp sun,moon and mars) are NOT afraid to call people out on their bs and are extremely straightforward and direct. The type to insult you straight to your face if you annoy them or smtg 😭 and you’d be like ouch, what was the reason for that??💀. They can come across as arrogant and rude sometimes BUT this all makes a lot of sense as a lot of them tend to be sidereal aries placements after all🙏��

🦂 speaking of sidereal placements I wanna talk about how virgos can be super playful and child-like (esp with the people they are comfortable with) because they’re leo placements in sidereal + virgo placements also really crave attention, sometimes way more than Leo’s tbh✨

🦂 aries and scorp moon/venus women often attract guys who initially start off as wanting to be/being their “friends” BUT the only reason they wanted to be their friend in the first place is because they see potential for a romantic/sexual relationship with them. It’s sad because literally every guy friend you have/had TOTALLY had other intentions that weren’t platonic 🥲

🦂 having placements in the 2nd house (esp if there are no harsh aspects) just mellows down the intensity of the placement. For instance moon in the 2nd house people can regulate their emotions much more stable and easy manner. Having placements in the 2nd house is such a BLESSING.

🦂 if you think you know someone with a scorpio moon, moon in the 8th house or moon-pluto native, trust me you DON’T😭. no one will ever KNOW every single part of them. They remind me of onions yk? SO MANY LAYERS to them and no one will ever truly know everything about them

🦂 also idk if I’ve mentioned this before but CAN WE JUST TAKE A MINUTE TO APPRECIATE HOW FUCKING FUNNY/HUMOROUS CANCER PLACEMENTS ARE???? literally SO SO witty and make you laugh till your stomach hurts😭🫶🏻

🦂 with age, saturn in cancer natives can look a lot like their mothers 💗

🦂 shadow traits are often expressed through the moon and mars, as these planets govern our raw emotions and drives. For example, an aries moon’s may react with impulsive outbursts and frustration, while a scorpio mars might exhibit controlling, obsessive, or manipulative behaviors to maintain power. These primal reactions tend to surface under stress or vulnerability. To work on your shadow self, it's helpful to focus on your Moon and Mars placements, as these often reveal where you're repeating or expressing toxic behaviors. By understanding how these signs influence your emotional reactions and drive, you can better recognize and address patterns that need healing.

banner/pic credits to the rightful owners

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[n0tamused]

Hello! I wanna send a req if u don't mind! Separate hcs/headcanons for Blade & Jing Yuan with gn!reader where the reader is being dense when another man tries to flirt with them. That's all & thx!

Contents: fluff, gn reader, hope you enjoy! Sorry for the long wait

Jing Yuan:

-The General of the Luofu and his lover are what people see as an example of a stable relationship, considering just how long you’ve been together, and not just as romantic partners either. Jing Yuan trusts you without a doubt, and you trust him all the same in equal measure, if not even more.

-Trust is not something either of you debate, and you are both happy to know of one another’s ability to trust and rely on the other, but that same trust can, in no way, be applied to the people outside of the relationship - strangers especially. 

-From this, there were a few instances where a stranger might have tried to approach the General, even if you were nearby, sputtering flowery words or playing with the locks of their hair. Jing Yuan never entertained such actions, brushing them aside and making clear mention how he “had to return to his beloved” before leaving the person aside. He knows how many people swoon over him and makes it a point to give you even more love to reassure you that he’d never look at any of them as fondly as he looks at you. You’re the only one that has a place in his heart. 

-But what Jing Yuan is not exactly fond of experiencing is you going through the same thing. Even from afar he can see how your lips press into a thin uncomfortable line, your eyes gazing at this stranger in caution, unblinking with unease. He sees you try, and vaguely hears as he approaches, how you try and get out of the conversation without making much of a fuss, and although you are firm too - the other is way too stubborn to back off

-The large hands of Jing Yuan find their way onto your sides, and he’s now peering at the person over your shoulder with that coy smile on his face. He doesn’t look threatening per se, but one would have to be a fool to not understand the mistake of their doings now

-He greets the person just as amiably, asking you what is going on, a curious little cat he is, he wants to know. But he doesn’t linger, he knows you want to get away, just as much as he wants to remove you from this situation. He tells the person something rather cryptic, rather poisoned honey for words, and the person understands - that much he makes sure off before he politely excuses you both away

-The General isn’t someone people fear and he doesn’t ever feel the need to present himself as a figure that needs to herald any unease of fear. He only dislikes his partner being put in such an unfavorable position and he will use his vast vocabulary to hide little threats for such behavior skillfully. His partner’s comfort is up on his priority list and he doesn’t play around with that

Blade:

-Blade is not one to beat around the bush or pray for forgiveness from anyone he might offend with his bluntness, and he certainly keeps this demeanor even after forgetting certain things due to Mara or Kafka’s Spirit Whisper

-As a lover he is rather distant and although he cares somewhere deep down in his old, scarred heart, a stranger wouldn’t be able to guess you’re even friends out in the open world. He doesn’t like standing in one place for too long, and if there’s intel that needs to be gathered or something that needs to be done, he puts a reasonable distance between the two of you as well, safety reasons mainly come to mind, but a part of him doesn’t want you to be involved in this business anyway so subconsciously he is trying to distance you from the operations as a whole. He tries and he fails, but he tries again next time and fails again.

-He always has an eye out for you, like a sixth sense ingrained into his mind.

-Along the lines of his work he vaguely does remember a few bold individuals that have tried to “hit on him”, but they were either not completely sober or were easily ignored. He wasn’t the person to entertain any flirtatious remarks and he isn’t the easiest person to approach. He scares people easily, so he doesn’t have much of a problem with people getting in his way just to say his eyes are pretty or something else.

-You, on the other hand, are not nearly as blunt or scary as he is, everyone’s aware of that. 

-He doesn’t waste time either. Once he senses you may be uncomfortable by another person’s approach to you, he’s already stepping in and making the person scurry off with a few rash choice of words that definitely sting at best. 

-Similarly to Jing Yuan, he values the peace your own peace of mind brings, and he doesn’t play around when it comes to your comfort. If someone disturbs you, he will make sure they stop and never do so again.

-He’s rather protective of you, even in those moments where he seems to forget the connection you two share.

-Just imagine: You’re talking to this unpleasant stranger, alcohol is clinging to them like perfume and they’re talking about how they’d love to invite you over for dinner, but suddenly they look over your shoulder where Blade is now taking a step towards you. He seemingly appeared out of thin air, merged from the crowd and he’s wearing the darkest of expressions, but he is unbothered truly. You don’t have to look behind you to know it is him either, he radiates that certain atmosphere that is hard to mistake. “Is there something wrong here?” he asks plainly, stiffly even, the question more pointed to you as he glares the stranger down. The stranger, unsure if this was alcohol's doing or reality is quick to scurry away with plenty of excuses bubbling up to their lips and farewells. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Double Trouble (Aaron Pierre x Black Reader x MBJ)

Warnings! NSFW, HEAVY BDSM, HEAVY Daddy kink, threesome (MFM), Everything is consensual! Degredation kink, Praise kink, Bratty reader, Dom! Aaron, Dom!MBJ

A/N: went hella overboard with this one! The plot is pure filth.

***

“Baby?” 

Your soft calls were barely loud enough to be heard over your boyfriend’s latest afrobeats obsession, which blasted through your shared home’s sound system. You lazily kicked off your red bottoms, a guttural sigh of relief escaping you as your exhausted feet relaxed out of the painful position it required to sport such beautiful but impractical shoes all day.

On your way to hunt down the love of your life, you stopped by your study, not even bothering to turn on the light as you discarded your Chloe work tote in your chair and closed the door behind you. 

After closing the biggest case of your career, you would not need to see the interior of either of your offices for a week and that almost brought tears of joy to your eyes. You and Aaron did not even have the energy to plan a trip. Having just wrapped a project two weeks prior, you both were overjoyed to spend a week at home wrapped up in each other.

You rolled your shoulders. Prayerfully, your boyfriend would take pity on you and give you a massage to ease the knots that took up residence in your back. You lazily made your way to the kitchen, knowing where you’d find the man you loved - but currently did not like. 

His back was to the arched entryway as you snuck in behind him, stealing a grape from his masterful charcuterie board that sat nearby. 

Despite your righteous annoyance at him, you never missed an opportunity to simply admire Aaron in his element. Like most actors, he suffered from the curse of always having to be “on.” But in the sanctuary of your home, he could just be Aaron, your gentle, loving, goofy, carefree boyfriend. 

And it certainly helped that he looked positively delicious today, setting a stupid table for a stupid dinner you didn’t want to host. He did every day but something was about him today in particular just made you want to sink to your knees and worship him with your tongue. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction today. You were pissed off. 

And that lust simply soured into red hot annoyance at the surprise guest your too-kind boyfriend invited to dinner. And while you never usually complained about company,  after months of endless days and sleepless and sexless nights, your vision of a relaxing evening was not entertaining a third wheel. 

It was a tall glass of wine, an amazing meal. And… then having your daddy twist you into a literal human pretzel and fuck the stress out of your body. 

But he hated you, clearly.

A sentiment you articulated (along with others) in a snarky text hours earlier. But Aaron, forever unbothered by your theatrics, merely responded that you should trust your daddy because… 

Daddy knows best. 

And despite the strong independent lawyer inside you who demanded control and to be right (and she usually was), you knew he was right about this one thing. Aaron could always see exactly what you needed. 

And despite your attitude earlier, you still spied his traditional gift for you after winning a big case neatly displayed on the white marble counter: your favorite cake from a bakery nearby and a bouquet of tulips. The varying vibrant shades of pink made something in your soul smile. He knew you too well.

Your silent studying did not go unnoticed for long, Aaron turning around not even startled to find you there. His expressive eyes lit up at the sight of your half grin, which you tried to suppress because you were supposed to be angry at him, and the hand on your hip as you leaned into the counter. 

He was in front of you before you could blink, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into his embrace. His muscles were threatening to destroy the fabric of his crisp button down, many of his clothes ill equipped to handle the additional muscles he gained for his latest project. 

“Hey princess.” 

Forever a brat and annoyed at the implosion of your plans for the night, you jerked your head to the side as he kissed you, forcing his lips to catch your cheek instead. 

Aaron merely let out a low chuckle, knowing that your bark was far worse than your bite. 

When it came to Aaron, you were about as strong as a lawn chair. You’d fold without resistance. Every. Single. Time. You always thought you were God’s strongest soldier… until you met Aaron. Kryptonite indeed. 

“Still mad at me?” 

“Yes,” you folded your arms as best you could against your chest, scoffing. “Between you playin’ the british assassin all around LA and me trying to negotiate with that asshole partner, we’ve had zero time together and no time to relax. And our first real free night in months without briefs and lines to run, you wanna play captain save a nigga with your friend? And then you spring it on me on some last minute shit. Those lips aren’t gonna get you outta this one, A.” 

“I know, I know, Y/N. And I’m sorry for messing up your plans for the night. I know how excited you are to finally have a break. But I’m trying to surprise you so please just trust me. If I know you like I think I do, you’re gonna like it.” 

“Well I think we’re about to make history then.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The first time you get a surprise wrong. Honestly it’s probably a good thing? You’ve always been a bit too perfect to be real,” you added, causing him to grin. “But the only thing I would like right now is for you to fuck me into oblivion. So unless this dinner guest can help with that, I doubt I’ll like it. But what’s done is done. Now let me go so I can get ready.” 

A stare down. Another moment where you’d inevitably crumbled. Because only Jesus himself was strong enough to stare in those eyes and not give this man everything you had. 

However, to your surprise, he looked away from you first, nodding and letting his arm fall so you could head upstairs. 

You started to walk out of the kitchen, prepared to sulk the last of your frustrations away before putting on the smile of a gracious host when you heard him call after you. 

“What if they can?”

“What if they can what?” you glanced behind you. 

“Help me fuck you into oblivion.” 

You lurched forward, his words stopping you dead in your tracks. 

No… he couldn’t mean… The tiniest thrill of excitement jolted across your brain like a shooting star. But you steadied yourself. He couldn’t possibly mean what you were thinking. So you played it off. 

“Ha. ha. Ha. Very funny, A.” 

“You hear me laughin’?” 

You slowly turned around to find him behind you, his eyes brimmed with pure lust. But nothing in his face signaled he was joking about a single thing. 

“Remember all those fantasies you told me about, princess?” 

It would take lifetimes for you to forget. You had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life telling Aaron every filthy fantasy you had while he fucked you on your apartment balcony. You prayed they were long forgotten by breakfast the next morning, but he remembered every single one. And ever since, he made it his mission to help you fulfill them. 

“Wait… you’re ser- you’re serious? You want to-” 

It was most certainly a fantasy but the practicalities of it seemed unrealistic. You never seriously considered that Aaron would ever try to arrange it.

He merely smirked and pressed his lips to the top of your nose. His voice was low, hypnotic and mesmerizing. 

“Got a few treats upstairs for you. Go get ready.” 

“Wait… we aren’t gonna talk about this?? You aren't gonna give me details?” 

“Nah. You’re gonna be a good girl for me tonight right, baby? I’d hate to punish you in front of company, princess.” 

But EYE wouldn't hate that. A voice echoed in your brain, the thought of a spanking making you want to disobey just for the hell of it.

“Of course you’d like the sound of that,” he teased you before his eyes softened a bit. You could tell he saw it. That kernel of hesitation at the whole affair, that side of you that had to be in the driver’s seat wanting to talk and litigate every risk before you leaned into the pleasure of it.

“Hey, Y/N… baby. This is just going to be a fun night. And the moment it’s no longer fun for you, we stop. Just like that. Just say the word. If you aren’t feelin' it and him, we end it and it's still just a fun night with a friend. Understand?” 

You nodded before correcting yourself so he didn’t have to. “Yes, I understand. Your surprise might’ve won out again… maybe you really are perfect.”

He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been tryin' to tell you. Just gotta trust me. Now go get ready. Only wear what I laid out for you.” 

Every step to your master suite pumped up your adrenaline. And made you fall deeper in love with your boyfriend. And his ability to fulfill your needs and desires and center your pleasure. He knew your limits, your boundaries, your needs and never wavered. 

A black cocktail dress waited for you with strappy gold heels. Along with your gold choker, with “good girl” engraved on its gold charm and your gold bullet.

Your skin felt electrified, a buzz radiating from every cell as you readied yourself. You weren’t surprised at the slick already pooling at the crest of your thick thighs when you slid your thong to the side and eased the bullet into you. You hissed at the cool silicone against your heat but you persisted. It was uncomfortable for a moment but as you continued dressing, you long forgot its presence. You knew its companion, a small gold remote, was with your master. Exactly where it should be.

You examined yourself in the mirror, hands running over your soft curves as you studied yourself. You had to admit that Aaron picked well. The dress accentuated his favorite parts of your body, hugging your hourglass shape so your ass and thighs were on display. The cutouts and mirroring each side of your ribs and plunging neckline would give him easy access to your boobs, which were begging to be freed from the confines of the tight bodice. 

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous baby.” 

“Thank you. You picked well.” 

“Final touch?” he picked up your choker, which waited for him on the bed. He always had the privilege of putting it on you. Because it signified the official start of your game. When the choker was on, your pleasure, your body was his to command, his to give and his to take away. Sweet surrender of control to the person you trusted most in this world. 

He towered over you as he stood behind you and placed the piece on your neck.  

“We’re gonna have dinner, dessert and then if you’re comfortable with continuing the night, just ask him to stay for a drink. Otherwise, the night will end. Understand?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” His hands traced the hourglass shape of your curves, his hands stilling only once along the near-indistinguishable lines of your thong. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, the shrill chime of their doorbell interrupted him. He sighed, turning you around in his arms. “Later. Ready to have some fun?” 

“Yes daddy.” 

Even in heels you had to stretch yourself to reach his lips. He took your hand, leading you down the stairs, some of your nerves being replaced by sudden intrigue. 

“You really aren’t gonna tell me who it is??” 

“What would be the fun in that?” With a wink back at her, he jogged the remaining steps and crossed the foyer with the quickness of an athlete and swung their door open. 

“Hey man! Thanks for coming by. Glad we could do this.” 

“Definitely, definitely. Thanks for the invite, man.” 

And that was the second time today you found yourself stopped dead in your tracks. The Michael B. Jordan stepped into your foyer, his charisma and star-powered charm oozing out of his pores as if he naturally produced it. 

Fuck me. He invited your celebrity crush, the main character of far more wet dreams than you’d ever admit out loud. And while Aaron was it for you, if you could ever take advantage of the “celebrity hall pass” concept, Michael Bae Jordan would be at the top of your list.

Well, that’s what he’s here to do. Daddy does indeed know best. 

At first, you had a feeling you’d be taking Aaron’s out. But now? Hell would have to freeze over before you gave up the opportunity of your dreams. Part of you cursed yourself for not guessing it was him to begin with. Aaron had been in a total bromance with the man since they wrapped filming. But now you had more questions. How did this even come up? How do you organize a threesome? Is this just a normal thing to talk about?

Who the fuck cares? You’re about to have the night of your life. 

You pushed them to the back of your mind, filing them away for tomorrow.

“And I don’t think you met my girl yet officially, but this is Y/N." The introduction forced your legs to start to move again, down the stairs and toward him.

“Geesh… they didn’t make lawyers like this when I was comin’ up. Michael,” he introduced himself. He held out his arms for a hug. “Aaron’s told me so much about you.” 

“Good thin-,” You started to toss your boyfriend a teasing grin as you closed the last couple of feet to return Michael’s hug. However, just as you were in arm’s length, the forgotten vibrator nestled inside you came alive. You let out an involuntary cross between a sigh and a moan that couldn’t be hidden. 

Could the ground open and just swallow me? 

Michael’s eyes glistened with amusement, letting you know he was not ignorant to your reality. 

“You good, baby girl?” he asked, with a knowing grin as you tried to avoid squirming in his embrace.

“Y-Yea, yea. Just h-had a chill. I was just gonna say that I hope he’s t-telling you good things,” you stammered, the jolts of pleasure siphoning off fractions of your vocal ability.

“Only good things, I promise. Just that you were the sexiest and best lawyer he’d ever seen. He was right about the first part, I’m sure he’s right about the second too.” 

“Hardly the best.” Your tone and smile were the picture of humility at his praise. You liked the sound of it on his lips, you also didn’t hate the way “baby girl" sounded when he said it too. 

“Y/N is being hella modest. She’s about to be the youngest junior partner in her firm’s history. And the first black woman.” 

“Aye! That’s what’s up! So we’re celebrating tonight?”

You grinned. “Don’t wanna get ahead of ourselves… just office gossip you know. We’ll see in a week.” 

Fuck, he was sexier than you imagined. Somehow tvs and movies simply didn’t do him justice. Like Aaron, he was at his peak physical weight, his muscles thick and lethal. They both stood in front of you looking like Gods, cut from the most perfect stone. 

“I-it’s just so great to meet you. You’re one of my favorite actors.” 

Michael drank you in like you were the finest glass of scotch, savoring every inch of skin exposed, every curve on prominent display. You felt hot underneath his stare, as if he had xray vision to see the promised lands this dress covered. You almost wilted like a flower under his intensity. 

We aren’t gonna make it through dinner, you thought to yourself. Or I can just be dinner. 

It was not your worst thought by far. The vision was quite enticing. Aaron ordering you to strip for them before displaying you on the table so they could feast on you. Your eyes darkened with clouds of lust. You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath, noting the amused glance that passed between the two men. Were all your thoughts broadcasting to them? 

“We… should go into the dining room. Dinner’s basically ready,” you offered as the lamiest attempt to escape the spotlight of them. You held your hand out for his coat, giving both men a perfect view of your ass as you turned to hang it in the closet. 

You didn’t attempt to hide the grin at the quiet but distinguishable wolf whistle from Michael. It felt good to know he liked what he saw. 

And the feeling was most certainly mutual. Michael and Aaron kept you laughing all through dinner as they enthralled you with stories from set. He was engaging and funny and you loved the genuine brotherhood between him and your boyfriend. There was nothing but raw sexual chemistry between you but that was all you needed. Mutual attraction.

The only disappointing aspect of dinner was the utter silence between your legs. Once he turned it off at the start of dinner, Aaron didn’t touch that remote again, much to your chagrin. Two hours and several glasses of wine at the dinner table with two men gently caressing your arms and exposed thighs was a recipe for disaster. And you knew he could tell, see how worked up they had made you, how desperately you wanted more attention. 

By dessert, you stopped retaining their words. They were utter nonsense to you because there were far more important things to consider. Like Michael’s dominating muscles and large hands, wondering how strong his grip will be when he fucks you from behind. Punishingly so, you prayed. 

You swung between wanting to savor the compliments and worship of two men with needing to be filled, a need that almost had you begging them to fuck you right amongst the dinner plates. But you knew Aaron. The night was young and he liked to play with his prize. 

By everyone’s fifth glass of wine, the conversation started to wind down, Michael getting up to head home. 

“Thanks so much for this, man. Appreciate the invite. Good to catch up n shit.”

“Oh you have to leave so soon?” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, coupled with the pleas of your signature puppy eyes. 

“I probably should… Gettin’ late, can’t take up your whole night.” 

You assessed the moment briefly, confirming with every cell in your body and functioning brain cell in your head that you needed this more than the oxygen in the room. 

So instead of wishing this walking wet dream a good night, you said, “You should stay for one more drink. We got this amazing bottle when we went to the South of France for our anniversary. Baby, we should open it and sit outside? It’s so nice out. We’re down to keep the good times going if you are.” 

“You sure?”

“I insist! Besides, between the three of us, I think we can find some ways to entertain ourselves." The implication in your words couldn't be clearer. You were in and you were ready. 

“I’ll grab that bottle from the cellar. Take Michael outside and make him comfortable, princess. Show him a good time while I’m gone.”

And with that, he turned your vibrator back on. He chose the second setting, which was just distracting enough to make the simple tasks of walking, talking and speaking exponentially harder for you. 

“Yes sir.” 

You forced your feet toward the giant sliding glass doors that led to your expansive backyard. You glanced behind you to find Michael jogging up behind you as he slid something into his pocket.

You tried to distract yourself from the pulses against your g-spot, the growing tension in your belly as pleasure started to build ever so slowly, by turning on the soft string lights hanging above your patio and the speakers to play music. 

“Yall got a great view.” 

“It was definitely the selling point of the house,” you smiled, awkwardly standing behind one of the chairs across from the couch.

His stance was wide, powerful and assured as he stared at you. 

“You gonna sit with me?” When you didn’t move, he sighed. “He said you were obedient. But maybe you just need an incentive…” 

Your knees almost gave out beneath you as he increased the setting to five. 

“If you wanna feel better, I think you should sit, baby girl,” he offered, his voice low and comforting. “I don’t bite, promise.”

The menacing glint in his eyes let you know that he most certainly would bite if asked. And you would most certainly ask. 

“S-sorry,” you awkwardly, quickly finding your way to the couch next to him. You started to sit when he beckoned you closer with a mere gesture of his finger. By the time he had you where he wanted you, you were sitting on his lap. 

You leaned into his chest, your eyes falling closed as pleasure shot through you with every pulsing vibration. You bit the inside of your cheek to avoid moaning. 

“You ok, Y/N? Seem a little flustered?” His fingers created flames all across your bare thigh as he subtly pushed up the fabric of your dress. 

There was still something… tamed about how he touched you and caressed you. He came so close to the spots that demanded a firm strong hand, he held back every time. Like right now. Drawing featherlike patterns on your exposed side, toying with the edges of your thong but not shifting them to the side like you craved. 

No, he simply savored the time teasing you, enjoying the soft moans his touch and the bullet caused. 

“I’... I’m… fine, t-thank you,” you whispered back. “Just… o-overwhelmed.” 

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” his husky voice demanded in your ear. At the sound, you couldn't suppress the moan of pleasure that escaped your lips. You rolled your hips, chasing more.

“Y-Yes…” you whimpered. “P-Please…” 

“How’s my girl treating you, Michael?” Aaron’s voice interrupted their moment, his eyes piercing with desire as you writhed and rode another man's thigh. You looked perfect, unrestrained and free. 

“Oh she’s perfect. You got a great girl here, A.”

“I know… she is. But she disobeyed me earlier so before she can cum, we have to punish her. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

“Y-yes sir.” You didn’t even know what you did wrong but you weren’t going to argue or push back on him. Because this was already like entering a promised land of bliss. To hear him speak so openly about your punishment to another man while he masturbated you on his lap? Aaron was right. This was the destressor you really required. 

“Can you tell Michael and daddy what you did wrong, princess?” 

You raked your brain, knowing that “I don’t know” would only increase your punishment. Not that you would have particularly minded. Frequent punishments were simply the norm for a proud and loud brat. 

And then it hit you, such a small and silly infraction that Michael’s fingers were currently playing with. 

“I… w-wore my panties w-when I wasn’t allowed,” you answered. 

“That’s right. And we don’t cover up daddy’s prize, do we?” 

“No… daddy.” 

“You want to be a good girl for Michael and I… don’t you?”  

His voice was hypnotic. Despite the pleasure disobeying him brought, you could not help but want to please him, to be his good girl again. 

“Y-yes, daddy.” 

“And good girls deserve what?” 

“Punishment before pleasure.” 

“That’s right, baby. So tonight, Michael’s gonna have the honor. How many spankings you think our slut deserves?” 

“I’d say 25… 30?” 

“30 feels fair. What do you think, princess?” 

“Wh-whatever daddy wants,” you whimpered. That was the only acceptable response. Besides, you knew Aaron knew your limits and wouldn’t let Michael cross them.  “That's right, baby girl. She can be good when she wants to, just needs remindin’ of her place sometimes,” he mused. And with that, Michael turned off the bullet, a groan of pure frustration escaping your lips.

Punishment before pleasure, you reminded yourself. Why can’t my punishment be sucking their dicks or something?? 

Michael helped you up, your legs feeling slightly weak after they robbed you of your orgasm. They didn’t bother trying to carry you up the stairs, Michael merely directed you to your deep forest green sectional in the living room and leaned you over one of its arms. He slid off his belt and tied your hands behind your back, ensuring they were loose enough to avoid injury but tight enough not to escape without effort. 

You were deliciously helpless. 

“Fuck, that’s a gorgeous sight,” you could hear Michael mutter as the two men merely stared at you, boobs pressed out due to your hands being bound, your ass high in the air from being bent over. “Her ass is perfect, man.”

“It’ll look even better when you’re done. Don’t hold back. She loves that shit and she knows our safe word.” 

You were glad he assured Michael that you would adore the sweet sting of his palm. You encouraged Aaron to put his entire weight into your spankings when you took on the role as his princess. Forever a gentle soul at his core, he did not like the idea of causing you real, significant pain, preferring to lean heavily into other aspects of dominating you. 

It certainly made you fall more in love with him, witnessing his gentleness and concern for your well-being to such a degree. You supposed it was the greenest of flags that it took about 10 long discussions for him to feel comfortable. And even years later, he still checked in throughout to make sure you still enjoyed it. You weren’t a masochist by any means spankings in particular were more than enticing to you. It left you drenched and on the cusp on an orgasm without Aaron doing anything else. 

Even more so right now with your ass presented to the two men like a hard-earned prize. You subconsciously stuck your ass out further in search of something. A touch, a slap… literally anything. Your body was reeling. 

And you did not even care who was behind you to give you what you needed.

“She’s fuckin’ desperate for it.” 

“Yea, she’ll be begging you for it in a minute. I mean I was gone for what? 5 minutes, princess? And I come back and you're humpin' his leg like a filthy whore? And you loved it didn't you? Wanted more? I bet you wanna beg him to tear that ass up right now, don't you?” 

Daddy knows me too well. Because the word please was on the cusp of your lips, begging to tumble over like water on a cliff. 

You moaned as two hands gripped the firm meat of your ass, kneading and caressing you before they found the helm of your dress. You knew exactly whose hands they were, confirming that Aaron was indeed giving Michael the pleasure of administering your punishment. 

His fingers pushed your dress up the rest of the way to expose your ass cheeks, an unmistakable wet spot at the center of your thong. 

“Don’t think she’ll be needing this anymore. Whatchu think?” Michael asked Aaron as his finger hooked the delicate fabric around her hips. 

“Nahhh, definitely not.” 

“FUCK!” You cried out as your thong was unceremoniously ripped clean from your body, the fabric leaving welts on your skin. 

You felt his fingers graze your lips.

“All this for us, kitten?” 

You merely whimpered an affirmative answer as he presented his fingers covered in your juices. He stuck them in your mouth, you sucking your cum clean off his fingers.

"Can't wait to make you cum all over my tongue, kitten. You taste so fuckin' good."

“P-Please…” You thought you’d implode if you continued to suppress your desperation. Your body felt as if you were betraying her. Why weren’t you trying hard enough, begging loud enough to earn the pleasure you were being deprived of. 

“See?” 

“You weren’t lyin’. Tell me what you want, kitten”  

He’s gonna make me say it?? 

The words were caught in your throat, blocked by a mental barrier to admit such a depraved thought out loud. 

“If you wanna cum at all tonight, I suggest you say that shit. Cause we got all night.” 

The lethal warning in his tone forced your thighs together, an electric shock through your body. He was a natural. And the dominance in his voice was all it took to rip the weeds of hesitation right out of your soil. 

“S-spank me… please,” Half words, half sobs filled the quiet air. This was untenable. Could you die from this? It felt like you might die from this. “I n-need it. P-Punish me… please.” 

The first vicious sting of his hand did make a real sob of joy escape, the sound reverberating through the living room. 

You buried your face in the couch cushion for the first few in a foolish attempt to quiet your mounting screams of pain wrapped in the sweet pleasure. His brute strength ensured you felt the ache of every hit. On par with Aaron when your punishments were severe. You were still feeling it days later. 

Your head pulled back, his fist wrapped around your curls.

“Do that again and I add five. Understand?” 

“Y-yes, yes. I’m sorry,” you moan, keeping your eyes forward and head up. 

You felt familiar hands cradle your head, Michael releasing your strains to play with your slick folds in between each blow. 

Aaron’s body came into view as he held your chin, forcing you to stare into his beautiful eyes. Clouded with lust, you still could see every ounce of his love and devotion. 

“You ok, precious?” he whispered. “Got 10 more.” 

“M-More.”

“You’re such a good slut for me, baby. I love you.” His eyes softened a bit. “You want a treat while Michael gives you your punishment? I wouldn’t usually but tonight is all about you, princess.” 

You licked your lips, the sudden sparkle in your eyes answering his question without words. You were impatient at the pace he went to unbutton his pants. 

He knew how much you loved sucking dick. Genuinely loved it. On more than one occasion, you came home after a long day and immediately dropped to your knees to serve him unprompted. Of course, it always ended up leading to him giving you back the same pleasure tenfold. So it was a win all around. 

You licked the beads of precum from his head before enveloping him into your mouth, moaning around him just as Michael rained down the last of your punishment. 

Fire. Your skin felt hot and inflamed with every bite of his palm against your skin. And they sent jolts of lust straight to your clit. 

“You’re taking your punishment so well. You’re not gonna disobey me again, are you?” 

Strings of your spit stayed connected to his dick as he pulled back so you could answer him. 

“Never again, daddy!”  

“That’s my good girl. You took that so well. Didn’t she?” 

You hissed as he gently massaged your hot skin. Fuck, why did his hands feel so good? 

“She did. You think she’s ready, A?” 

“I think she is.” 

You found a secret joy in the way they spoke only to you to dole out orders, but then talked about you to each other like you were merely a piece of furniture.

Aaron scooped you up in his arms, your body immediately nestling into his chest as he carried you to your master suite. He tossed you on the bed like a rag doll as Michael closed the door to your suite. And for a few moments, they simply stood there. Towering over you, intoxicated by the power and anticipation, they didn’t speak or move. They just watched you squirm beneath them. 

“You know I love you right?” Aaron broke character for a single moment. 

“Of course.” 

“Good. Cause it ain’t gon' seem like it for a minute. You know how daddy wants you.” 

Fuck. Yes. 

There was a challenging grin on your face as you removed the last obstacle to their conquest, leaving you bare before them. With great pleasure, you shifted onto your hands and knees and sank into position. Presenting yourself to him. Vulnerable, exposed. To two apex predators. 

And you were ready to be devoured. 

Michael pounced with such swiftness of jaguar indeed, you suddenly finding yourself straddling his hips. His punishing grip around your lower back kept you flush to his chest as his lips claimed yours. 

Frenzied, animalistic, downright sloppy kisses as you two gave into your most base desires. There was no love here, just lust in its most instinctual level. You two fought for dominance in your kisses, you mainly showing him that you were no damsel.

He moved you with ease, like you were a feather, turning you so your head dangled off the edge of the bed.

“I think our kitten needs a bit of attention.” 

His lips kissed a burning trail down your body, veering off course to engulf each of your nipples in his wet mouth, while his hand played with your throbbing clit. 

You whined, feeling his breath against your sex, his grip holding your hips firmly to the bed to stop you from getting any more pleasure than he decided. 

“So eager.” 

He licked up the wetness that spread to your thighs, still avoiding touching you there. He was a menace. The devil really.

You screamed as he wrapped his lips around your bud, every nerve ending in your body zeroed in on him.  

Aaron guided your agape mouth onto his hard member again, your tongue licking him like he was your favorite lollipop. He exchanged the bullet for his fingers, easing a second one inside your pussy. 

Your litany of curse words were indecipherable with Aaron’s mouth ramming down your throat. He did not let you control the pace one bit. Your mouth was merely a means to an end for him. 

You gagged, tears streaming down your face from the sensory overload of having them work in tandem to bring you pain, pleasure, and everything in between.

You arrived at the cliffs of pleasure far faster than you expected, your body ready to fall for the first time all night. Your thighs tightened around Michael’s head as you tried to control it. Foolish it sounded, to stop the fall. But you couldn’t tumble just yet. 

You didn’t stop your task of sucking to ask. Instead, you simply stared up at him with plea-filled round eyes.

“Cum on his tongue, princess. Cum for daddy.” 

You dove off the cliff with earnest as Michael chose that moment to add a fourth finger, finger fucking you with relentless speed.You let your eyes fall close and surrendered to the crashing waves and thrilling currents that pulled you into oblivion. Right where you wanted to be. 

Only Aaron could find the cherry on top to this already perfect sundae as he spilled down your throat. It was typically reserved for her treat as he knew you adored swallowing. And you were grateful he found you deserving. 

Aaron took a step back, you pouting at the loss of his dick in your mouth.

“Don’t worry, princess. Won’t be your last taste for the night.” He leaned down and kissed you deeply, a soft whimper escaping at how familiar his lips felt. Home. “I think you need to thank Michael for punishing you earlier and making you cum. How do good whores say thank you?” 

"On their knees, daddy."

You moved off the bed and onto the carpet, Michael already sliding off his boxers. Your voice hitched as his girthy thick member sprang from his boxers.

He smirked told her he knew what he was wielding and how to use it well. Admittedly, you had only had sex with three men in your life, two of whom were present. But you felt confident in saying these two Gods among lesser men had the most impressive dicks you’d ever seen. 

You’d never live down the humiliation of your near panic attack during you and Aaron’s first time. 

“I don’t think you’ll fit,” you remember muttering before trying to escape to hide in his bathroom, your brain overloaded with the fear that he would somehow break you. 

But like the perfect gentlemen he was, he held you close and calmed you with sweet kisses and talked you through every inch as he sank into you for the first time. He naturally reached regions you thought were anatomically impossible. You often referred to it as his weapon, one that left you utterly immobile too often. 

Michael was similarly blessed and highly favored. Though he lacked a bit of Aaron’s length, his had a girth to it that you knew would cause a stinging stretch. It would be different and you liked the idea of that. As much as your body wanted to skip to that part, you also were feral for a taste of him. 

Aaron sat in the arm chair across the room, the perfect view to watch as Michael slid his dick between your plump lips. He stroked his dick back to life watching you spit and gulp down his dick.

“That’s right. Fuckkkk. Get it sloppy, baby girl. Fuck your throat feels good.” 

Your body glowed at his praise, Aaron grinning to himself. He adored seeing you in this light, gaining a new perspective to how you felt freedom and pleasure. He never wanted to stop learning how to love you better, please you better. 

Inexplicable pride swelled when your eyes connected with him, your dilated pupils lighting up at his smile.

“You ready for me to fuck that pussy, kitten?” Michael demanded, punctuating each word with a deep thrust into the back of your throat. Attempting to respond was a foolish endeavor with him balls deep down your throat. 

He pulled out of your mouth and lifted you up to your feet, immediately moving you into his desired position. He bent you over the edge of the bed, one hand glued to your hip while the other pushed your head into the mattress. He positioned you so you were staring right at Aaron.  

Being watched. New kink unlocked. You were an actress on display and he was your director, in full control. And it was time to watch his masterpiece. 

Your eyes fluttered out of enticing humiliation and bliss as Michael’s head bounced against your pulsing clit. 

“Eyes open, princess. And on me."

And this was a moment that made you question who you truly were. A good girl or a disobedient slut? The devil on your shoulder didn’t need deliberation time. You were a disobedient whore. You wanted to be utterly spent when this night was over. 

But you also knew he knew that, which is why he picked a task he knew you’d fail either way. You could try as hard as you wanted, it would be impossible to maintain eye contact. 

“You ready for Michael to fuck you, princess?” 

“Yesssss! Fuck me… I need it.” It was as critical to your survival as air. 

You immediately failed at your task, your eyes clenching shut as he pushed inside of you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you hissed, begging for the moment when the lightening flash of pain subsided and pleasure took root. 

“Fuckin’ tight ass pussy on you, kitten,” he gave you a few moments to adjust. When your expletives turned into quiet moans, he moved. 

"Won't tell you this shit again, princess. Eyes open and on me or I start spankin’ you when it’s my turn. And you ain’t gon’ like that shit.” 

“Sorryyyy, dadddyyyyy.” 

His hips snapped viciously into you, his dick curving into your g-spot with every thrust. 

Bliss. 

Joy. 

You panted as  he fucked you with relentless precision, he didn’t let a moment go to waste as he fucked you. His grip along your hip was bruising as he pushed and pulled against your body. Never the lazy lover, you met every thrust, using your arms as leverage to throw your fat ass back at him. 

“That’s it! Take this dick, slut! You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy??” he demanded, a hard smack coming down on your still aching ass when you didn’t answer fast enough. 

There was no way he actually believed you could form coherent thoughts right now. 

“I… love it! D-... don’t stop! Fuck… I’m gonna cum!” Your eyes had not stayed on your master as they should’ve, nor had you even tried that hard. But you deliberately cast them on him to beg for permission. “C-Can I cum daddy?? He feels so gooddddd…” 

“Why the fuck would I let you cum? You disobedient whore? Can’t follow simple fuckin’ instructions. 

Well shit. He was pissed. 

Your face was one of sadness at upsetting your daddy but everything inside was filled to the brim with glee. You weren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow. And then you could look forward to a day of aftercare and pampering from your love. 

“P-please, please. I-I’m sorry!! I tried. I-I can’t…” Michael was not helping your cause as you pleaded your case in front of a less than sympathetic judge. He found some superhuman ability to increase his already punishing pace, jackhammering into your g-spot. “Let me cum, pleasseeeee! I can’t hold it.” 

“She’s clenchin’ on my dick, brah.” 

You were going to cum either way, inevitably, but you were holding strong for those magic words. Moments before you felt yourself starting to break, you finally heard him.

“Cum for me.” 

“She’s creamin’ on this dick. This some good pussy, my man! You one lucky nigga.” He didn’t slow his pace as he fucked you through your second orgasm. "That's right, cum all over this dick, baby."

How were you not spent yet? No, you still wanted so much more. 

You lost track of your orgasms as Michael moved you into his desired positions, fucking you every type of way that suited him. And all the while, Aaron just watched, commanding your eyes to him in the moments leading up to your orgasms, forcing you to hold his gaze across the dark room. 

You thought the Earth had reversed on its axis somehow. 

“I’ll let you decide where you want it, kitten. On you or down your throat.” 

“Cum on my ass!” 

“Whatever baby girl wants.” He pulled out of you and sprayed your back and ass cheeks with his seed. You sighed out of contentment as you laid there, knowing your night was far from over. But you were grateful for the brief reprieve. 

Michael shifted off to the side as Aaron rejoined you, the Brit studying your ass painted in another man’s cum. If there was a way be any harder than he already was, he would be it right now. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, princess. I love you so much, you’re such a good girl for me. You ready for daddy, now?” 

You nodded enthusiastically. Michael was amazing but no one fucked you quite like Aaron. Those were the simple facts. 

“Good girl,” he flipped you and pushed your legs up so your knees were essentially up at your ears. 

This was a frankly evil thing to do, to start with this position. It was simplistic but he would pound you so deep, you saw fucking stars. At this rate, you would be tapping out far earlier than you would have hoped. 

“Ahhhh! Yessssss… thank you daddy! Love your dick, daddy!” You screamed as he entered you in one fluid motion, ending deep in your guts. 

“You take me so well, baby. You like how deep I’m fuckin’ this pussy?” 

“Yes, yes! Shit! God I love it! Oh Goddddd, fuck, baby…” 

“Ain’t no God to call out to here, princess. Just your masters.”

You gasped at the sudden all consuming emptiness of him exiting you. You felt his hand catch your ankle, which was still in the air where he left you. He dragged you to the edge of the bed and lifted you to your feet. You almost collapsed on your stiff legs but you quickly realized, he was not intending for you to support your own weight long. 

He hinged you at the waist, your fingertips supporting balancing some of your weight until he reentered you and regained control of your hips. He did all the work, holding all your weight with his strength as he fucked you straight into a sweet abyss. Nothing else mattered. Just the two of you. 

Well… three of you. Speaking of which… as if Aaron could read her mind, he says, “Suck him like the whore I know you are.” 

Using his strength to turn you both so you were eye level with Michael’s dick. He was getting hard, rested and ready for round two with ease. Both men looked as if they could do this all night while you knew you looked like you had been fucked just as good as you felt. 

You surrendered your mouth to Michael, allowing the actor to face fuck you to his heart’s content. And you simply enjoyed every moment of them fucking your holes like men possessed. No breaks, no time for breaths. Nothing. Just unforgiving feral fucking. 

You didn’t bother counting the orgasms they gave you as the two men traded places multiple times, using your mouth and pussy to their heart’s content. They worked up a perfect rhythm that brought you thrilling moment after thrilling moment  

“Don’t run, fuckin’ whore! You been takin’ it all night. Came in here with that fuckin' attitude. Take this dick!” Aaron ordered as you shied away from his forceful thrusts as he fucked you doggy style. 

Your body was being driven past overload as they stimulated every part of you. You could barely concentrate on Michael’s dick in front of your face with how Aaron was fucking you, clearly getting the last word of the evening. 

You thought you knew what overstimulation felt like but you had no fucking idea until today. But you knew the orgasm you were building toward would be your best yet, would be worth every moment of this. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum!” Michael called out. 

“I’m close too. Daddy’s gonna cum in this sweet pussy, baby. But first, your other punishment. Cum as much as you want.” 

And with that, he and Michael went utterly and completely feral on your body, chasing one goal: their collective simultaneous pleasure. 

Michael grunted as he painted your face in his cum, much of it landing in your open mouth. He collapsed on the bed next to you, your body immediately crumbling forward without him holding you up. He caressed your skin as Aaron mercilessly fucked you, matching every thrust of his hips forward with a harsh slap to your ass. You knew you would have to endure as many as it took for him to cum.

Shit. You really fucked up.

You screamed and squealed, Michael roughly making out with you and sucked and bit your titties as if you needed more. You and Aaron reached the peaks of your mountains at the same time. At the warmth of him filling your pussy, white blanketed in your vision and sent you free falling into a new stratosphere.

Time felt inconceivable when you opened your eyes again. In your mind, no time had passed but instead of being on the bed, you were surrounded by warmth. Warm water lapped over your aching muscles, something hard propping you up from behind. 

“What’s…” you started to say, trying to lift up when a muscular arm snaked around your chest to hold you flush to him. 

“Relax, relax, princess. You’re good. Take a breath. Just blacked on us for a minute.” 

His voice calmed all the uneasy waters of your soul, you were safe and home with him. There was no better place to be in this life or the next. 

“Where’s… our guest?” Your voice cracked from the overuse of your throat. You rubbed your neck instinctively. 

“I’ll make you some tea when we get out,” he kissed your temple. “And he passed out in one of the guest rooms. I may have told him there was a strong possibility you’d be up for another round in an hour or two. Told me to get him when you finish soakin’ so he can give you a massage.” 

And you knew exactly where the yellow brick road of a massage would lead: to the Emerald Fucking City of Round 4.  

Your libido was just as high, if not higher than Aaron’s. More than once, it had been you demanding rounds 4-6 after he already wore you out during 1-3.

“One day you’re gonna get it wrong, you know?” you tease, allowing your head and back to rest with ease onto his chest. His hands massaged your hips and thighs and breasts, all sore from their spanking and biting. “That feels soooo good. You got the magic touch, baby.” 

  You ok, love? We were rough on you.” 

“More than ok. That was the most… insane and fun thing I’ve ever done. Exactly what I needed and wanted. Thank you, Aaron.” 

“Anything for you, princess. Rest for me, love.” 

You allowed your eyes to flutter closed again, dozing in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms as he continued releasing knots from your muscles. You simply laid there with him, savoring him and the afterglow of being his. 

However, after about 15 minutes, you had rested long enough. This night would end eventually, you wanted to make the most of it with your two daddies. 

“Daddy… I think I’m ready for that massage now,” your eyes glistened with your true intentions, letting Aaron know that you were no close to done. 

He let out a low chuckle of disbelief. “You really are one of a kind, Y/N.” 

“I know,” you winked at him with a playful grin. “Now massage, please.,” you demanded like the spoiled brat you were.

Aaron got out of the bath first, his entire body glistening with water on every perfect panel of muscle and taunt skin. Was it nice being a bead of water sliding down that skin? It might be nice to be a bead of water on his skin. 

He quickly toweled himself off before helping you up, using his arms around you as your legs shook. 

He dried you before laying you back down on the bed, disappearing down the hall while you laid on your stomach and simply waited. 

“Well well well… couldn’t get enough could you, kitten?” 

You heard them before you saw them. 

“No sir.” 

“She’s insatiable. Makes her a good little whore for me, doesn’t it, princess?”

You felt their weight on both sides of the bed. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whined as their fingers started doing the Lord’s work massaging out every knot and kink buried in your limbs. 

You turned your head toward Aaron, reaching up and kissing him softly as a private thank you before laying down again. You closed your eyes and let them work, let them take care of you. 

Whoever said “three’s a crowd” clearly hadn’t met these two.

Tag list: @hxneyclouds @planetblaque @slutsareteacherstoo @theereina @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @apenasumlug4r @motheroffae @blackerthings @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @melaninpov @hiwasteland @yamst3rdamctrl @miyuhpapayuh @dxddykenn @sageispunk @atribecalledqwest @4pfsukuna @beenathembo @throwmymbackout @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

***

A/N: Hoped you enjoyed that as much as I did! Thanks for reading!

[luveline]

Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk. 

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert. 

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become. 

Behind you are two female classmates. 

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by. 

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise. 

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn. 

Hotch steps in. 

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says. 

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.” 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you. 

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.” 

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave. 

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors. 

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated. 

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range. 

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“What?” 

“They do it to me every time I’m here.” 

“They do?” 

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.” 

“Why would they think that?” 

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.” 

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?” 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly. 

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.” 

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.” 

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.” 

“I’ll use that one, too.” 

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.” 

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask. 

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. 

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.” 

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily. 

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually. 

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.” 

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes). 

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.” 

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream. 

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.” 

“He’s six,” he corrects. 

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.” 

“Then tell me about it, at least.” 

“You saw the most of it.” 

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal. 

Your situation is not the same. 

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again. 

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.” 

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.” 

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble. 

[ckret2]

Chapter 70 of human Bill Cipher pretending he's not the Mystery Shack's captive for ten minutes:

This happens!

Whoops, sorry, zoomed too far in.

This happens!

Way more important and exciting.

####

Bill lasted—based on the sun's position—about a couple of hours before this body's needs knocked him out of his meditative mindset. He sat up with a sigh, checked his tanlines—the stripes he'd drawn across his abdomen were already darkening into a nice, angry burn—and glanced over at the lake to see what the Pines were up to.

At the moment, Mabel was holding a foot-long wiggling, glittery, gold-scaled trout in a net and grinning proudly. Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pointed at her in excitement as Dipper snapped a picture of them. Stan opened a cooler for her to drop the fish in. Mabel's face fell, and she hugged the fish protectively. Stan's shoulders sagged; but after half a minute of unsuccessful negotiations, he relented and pointed at the lake. She dumped the trout back in the water.

Bill clicked his tongue in disappointment and muttered, "If I'd thought they'd catch the golden trout, I would've told 'em that thing's like the holy grail to the Fishmasons." Stan probably would have insisted they keep it just so they could get something on Eugene. Bill wasn't emotionally invested in their feud; but the trout did grant three wishes. Bill could use that kind of power.

Oh well, he could tell them later. Maybe they'd get lucky and hook it again. Bill got to his feet. "Hey, old lady. I need to stretch my legs." Stretch his legs, look for entertainment, and forage for food—they were planning to be out here all day, but there hadn't yet been a grocery trip to properly stock his new fridge chest and he didn't trust Ford's nutrition pills, so he'd only brought along a bottle of hot sauce and a bottle of sprinkles and hoped he'd manage to find some food once he was here. (And if he didn't find any—well, at least he had hot sauce and sprinkles.)

"Okay," Abuelita said. She turned a page.

He put his slippers back on, dug his condiments and eye patch out of Abuelita's bag—his eyes were getting tired—put on the patch, and scanned the beach. "Hey. Looks like somebody's grilling hot dogs over there."

Abuelita made a noncommital sound of minimal interest.

"Hot dog might be nice," he said. "Looks like the grill's a biiit over thirty feet away, though..."

"Okay," Abuelita said again.

"So." He waved his braceleted hand demonstratively. "Shall we?"

"Eh. I don't want a hot dog." She slid the enchanted bracelet off and dropped it in the sand.

Bill stared at the bracelet, then stared at her. "What, that—really? You're just... really?"

"What am I, a cop?"

Good enough for him. "You're all right, lady." He wrapped the extra thread around his wrist, put on the second bracelet, and glanced at the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines weren't about to catch him off his leash.

The family was crowded around watching as Ford reeled in something heavy. He grinned excitedly as the hook dragged up a patch of soggy khaki fabric; and his smile vanished when his coat grabbed the boat with a furry hand. As the family scrambled to the far end of the boat, Bigfoot—wearing Ford's lost coat and a full set of scuba gear—climbed aboard the boat.

Ford punched Bigfoot in the face.

"Oh," Bill said. "Bigflipper. That'll keep 'em distracted for a while." Satisfied, he meandered up the beach.

He plastered on a bright smile as he approached the family with the hot dogs, veered around the husband working the grill, and walked right up to the wife sitting on a beach towel, eating a hot dog, and watching her kids play in the water. "Heeey, Wanda! What are you doing here! Look at you, you look terrific!"

The woman looked up at Bill from under her sunhat in bafflement. "I—hi? Sorry, do I...?"

"Sure, it's Goldie! Washington State! Fifteen years ago! We were in the same study group, remember? East Asian history? Honestly all I remember about the class is the other girls and that fifty percent of it was about Confucianism."

Wanda's eyes lit up, and then un-lit as she realized she still didn't recognize Bill. "Oh—heeey! Wow—sorry, guess I've slept since then."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just good with faces. Anyway, from what I remember," he jabbed a thumb toward the man at the grill, "at the time most of your attention was on Danny."

Wanda laughed again, a little more easily. "Right, god. I can't believe I made it through that semester with passing grades."

"Hey, you were still the only one in the group who could remember what order all those dynasties came in..."

Bill kept Wanda distracted for another couple of minutes with small talk about the study sessions he'd spied on out of boredom from a library stained glass window; and then, when he saw one hot dog had been set aside fully grilled and mustarded but as-yet unclaimed, he said, "But hey, I won't distract you anymore! Those kids look like a handful." While both parents turned to look at the kids, Bill snatched up the unclaimed hot dog, strolled down the beach, and called back, "It was good catching up!" That whole performance probably hadn't been necessary, he might've been able to time his loitering to swing by just as the hot dog was left unguarded; but it had been more fun this way. He didn't get to have a lot of conversations these days. Less where he felt like he was the one in control of the conversation.

He soaked the bun in hot sauce, dumped some sprinkles on the mustard, and took a bite while he glanced out at the lake again to see how the Pines were doing.

At the moment, Ford had Bigfoot in a chokehold from behind. Stan hit him with a right hook. Bigfoot kicked Stan in the chest with one immense flippered foot, and he tumbled backward into the lake.

Looked like none of them would be paying attention to anything on the beach any time soon. No need to go straight back to his cell. He scanned the rows of beachgoers sitting out by the lake, looking for fresh entertainment.

Bill's gaze fixed on one of the humans. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things doesn't belong. Amongst all the tourists in their swimsuits, one man—standing ramrod straight, dressed in a black suit, holding a heavy black device with an antenna—stuck out like a sore pale thumb in a pitch black bandaid.

An agent from the Bureau of Covert Investigations. The "eagles." The same guys that had covered up President Quentin Trembley's existence, a brief sightseeing trip Bill had taken to Roswell via nuclear testing-induced dimensional rip, and the miraculous and disgusting resurrection of cult leader/possession puppet Silas Birchtree; and, the guys that had been trying to find Bill's portal in Gravity Falls since they'd detected it in the '80s. Bill wasn't the eagles' biggest fan.

But they'd never been a big enough potential threat or a big enough potential help for him to intervene in their operations. In the mid '80s, when the lead investigator in Gravity Falls had been putting together his case, Bill had considered pulling some strings and manipulating them into taking over the portal from Stanley, before concluding they'd be more likely to disassemble the portal than activate it and it was better off in Stan's clumsy care. But all the same, he'd kept watch over their operations. 

And this, if he wasn't mistaken, was the lead investigator himself. Agent Powers. What was he doing here? Bill had thought the case was closed last year after Ford wiped their memories and sent them packing. Maybe Powers was here about Trembley? Depending on what the Pines had entered into the memory gun, the eagles might still remember that part of their operations in town.

Bill would kinda like to know where Trembley was these days. He studied the agent as he slowly finished his hot dog; and then he moved in.

"Hey there, agent!" Bill clapped a hand on his shoulder, making him start, and beamed brightly. "Welcome to town! What brings you to Gravity Falls?"

"Pardon?" Agent Powers gave Bill an appraising up-and-down look—threat assessment, probably—caught sight of his bikini top, and quickly looked him in the eye. "How did you know I'm an agent?"

"Oh, that's easy! I'm psychic."

Powers opened his mouth, paused, and then squinted skeptically at Bill.

"Just kidding. You've got an earpiece, a business suit at the beach, and the government's favorite car."

"Oh." Powers turned to glance toward where he'd parked. "Yes. I suppose so."

"Say! If you want a more covert vehicle, you oughta go to Gleeful Auto in town. You'll blend right in. Just tell 'em Mr. Locke sent you."

"Who's Mr. Locke?"

Right, Bill supposed he didn't look like much of a "Mr." at the moment. Humans didn't consider bikinis gender neutral for some reason. He took a split second to decide whether he'd get any practical benefits from trying to push past the agent's initial perception of his gender, and couldn't think of any. "Friend of mine!"

"Ah." Powers nervously looked Bill up and down again; then cleared his throat and glanced away, cheeks flushed faintly pink in the heat. "Right. Thank you, uh, citizen."

"No problem!" If Bill remembered his suits right, this agent was an easy target. Believed in "collaborating" with "local informants"; wasn't very good at the covert part of the Bureau of Covert Investigations. "You don't look like you're in town on vacation! Investigating anything interesting at the lake?"

"Well..." Powers flashed Bill a quick sideways glance before nodding vaguely toward a couple of people in dive suits further up the beach. "If you must know, we've picked up some evidence of the lake recently flooding its banks. Which is strange, because the amount of rain this area's received can't account for how high the water climbed..."

Not here about Trembley, then? "Flooding? Think there's any danger, agent? In our quiet, harmless little town?"

"No, no. Nothing like that," Powers said quickly. "But, I've said too much. I should go." He shifted his footing anxiously. He did not go.

What was that about? Bill glanced down at himself; he still looked perfectly human, didn't see anything that should make a government agent nervous. Was it the lack of shaving? Was that too Seventies Feminist for Mr. Government Suit? Was the eyepatch setting off his secret agent "Soviet supervillain in a spy movie" instincts? He couldn't have noticed Bill stealing a hot dog.

Should Bill press his luck? (Stupid question—of course he should.) "Say, you keep giving me these odd looks, agent! Anything you wanna say?"

His pink cheeks flushed darker. "Er, no, no ma'am. It's just, I uh..." He gestured vaguely toward Bill, "I... couldn't help but notice that your... sunscreen is a bit streaky."

Bill glanced down at his tan lines. Streaky? He thought the burn lines were coming out pretty crisp.

The agent went on, "I was wondering if you needed help applying it more evenly." It took a split second for him to realize what he'd just said; and then he went even redder.

Bill raised his brows. Huh. "Nooo, I'm great, thanks. It's supposed to look like that."

"Oh." Powers's brow furrowed in confusion. "All right." He nodded. "In that case, I really should be going, then."

"All right!"

But Powers hesitated again for a moment before finally moving up the beach away from Bill.

Well. Interesting. Interesting reaction.

He checked on the Stanowar again to make sure the Pines hadn't seen anything. At the moment—he squinted—they seemed to be playing poker with Bigfoot. He must not have liked Mabel's playing (unsurprising; she was an incorrigible cheat), because he picked her up and chucked her in the lake.

"She's fine," Bill muttered. "She's got her life jacket." They were good about that in this town.

He watched as Powers met up with the divers farther along the beach; and then he headed back to his towel.

####

Bill had decided his front was sufficiently roasted and was struggling to apply new sunscreen stripes to his back so he could flip over, when he overheard somebody say, "Oh hey, Toga Lady?"

Bill twisted around, already grinning in greeting before he'd even seen who was talking to him. "Heya!" It was Broken Heart and two of the others. Wendy's gang. Robbie, Tambry, and Nate. "What are you guys doing out here! You don't look like the beach types!" (In deference to the environment, all three of them had donned swim trunks and sandals; but that was as beachy as they'd gotten. Nate and Tambry were in black t-shirts advertising metal bands. Robbie was still in his hoodie. Robbie's legs nearly glowed white.)

"Hanging," Tambry said, one arm around Robbie's back and face glued to her phone.

Nate elbowed Robbie. "Dude, he's Toga Guy, remember?"

"Toga 'Lad' would be better," Tambry said.

"You sure?" Robbie asked. "Sh—he's kinda..." He gestured vaguely toward his own chest, realized that probably wasn't the best way to make his point, and finished, "uh... bikini."

"I don't want to spend my day arguing about whether I've got the right to go topless!" Bill got to his feet and planted his hands on his hips. "I could talk my way out of trouble with the police—it's the tourist parents I'm worried about." He pulled up one strap to examine his shoulder. "It's gonna ruin my tan, though."

They took in his tan in progress: several horizontal lines across his lower torso and upper thighs, a few disconnects vertical lines stretched between the horizontal ones. Tambry glanced up from her phone, snorted, and started typing faster; Nate said, "Dude, are you trying to make bricks like the triangle guy?"

Bill froze, mouth open. "Uhhh..." Sure, that was the objective—he just hadn't really expected humans to find it that obvious. Nosy little pattern-seekers. "I mean—"

"That's cool," Tambry said. "Stick it to the man."

Robbie had screwed up his face a bit, but at Tambry's reaction, he shrug-nodded and conceded, "Yeah, it's kinda punk, I guess."

Nate said, "Praise Bill or whatever, right?" He laughed. "Yeah, I thought about getting a tattoo of him. Up here or something?" He pushed a sleeve up above the snake tattoo wrapped around his left bicep to show the blank spot on his shoulder. "But my parents would flip if they ever found out. Maybe I should do the brick thing too, it's way subtler." Nate turned to the other two, lifted up his shirt, and said, "Hey Tambers, do you think I'd look cool with bricks around my waist?"

She didn't look up. "No."

"What if I got an eye on my chest too?"

"Let me think. No."

Bill watched this back and forth with wide-eyed stunned silence. Hold on. What? Praise Bill?

"Pfff, whatever!" Robbie rolled his eyes. "Hey, you're gonna regret getting a Bill tattoo once I get my sick symbol off the anti-Bill circle. It's like... giving me a permanent rock-paper-scissors win against you. For the rest of time."

Nate laughed. "Shut up, whatever man! The circle didn't even do anything."

"It would have! It was, like, glowing!"

"Heeey!" Bill stepped into the trio's line of sight again. "Right, yeah, praise Bill, by the way any of you wanna help me get my back?" He turned around to gesture over his shoulder. "Little favor between punk weirdos?"

"Yeah, sure." Tambry tucked her phone into Robbie's hoodie pocket and held out her hand for the tube of sunscreen. "Just continue the lines around your back?"

"You got it." Bill lifted his arms. "And try to keep the bricks evenly spaced."

"What is this stuff? Some kind of suntan lotion?"

"It's more like anti-sunscreen," Bill said. "By the way, you probably wanna wash your hands after this unless you want sunburned fingers." He wiggled his own fingers, which were faintly flushed from applying the first layer of sunscreen that morning.

"Hey, anti-sunscreen," Nate said, "you could call that, uh... sun-beam." He paused. "No wait, that's already a word."

Robbie laughed. "You're an idiot."

"Sooo," Bill said. "Is the triangle guy cool now? Not—not asking for any particular reason. Just curious."

"Oh, yeah," Tambry said. "Like half the school's decided he's our crazy anti-authoritarian counterculture chaos god now?" (Bill was adding that to his business card.)

Robbie said, "Somebody set up a shrine to him in a hollow tree stump behind the school. People started making animal sacrifices to him during finals week."

Nate said, "It's chicken nuggets and cafeteria tacos, but. Y'know. We didn't say live animals."

"Huh! Interesting!" Bill tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound too excited. He was hip with the youth. Who'd imagined! This was what he got for hanging out with the town's cops and politicans, he could've been exploiting this for a month. "But I think he prefers receiving gold!"

Nate laughed. "Dude, I'd prefer receiving gold, too. What we have is chicken nuggets and tacos."

"Fair enough," Bill shrugged. "By the way—if you want a Bill tattoo? The traditional style is to shave your hair and get his eye above your forehead, right here!" He tapped his skull over his brain's frontal eye fields. "It tells him right where to enter."

"Oh, sweet! That's perfect," Nate said. "I can shave, get a tattoo, and just keep my hat on until my hair grows back. No one will ever know!" (Bill tried to imagine hair growing out of his eyeball, and wished he hadn't.)

Robbie said, "Hey, weren't the Pines like... not letting you go outside because you knew him or something? That's what Wendy said."

That wasn't the story he'd told her. He'd have to find out where she'd picked that up. "Or something. It was more because of dumb academic ego-measuring contests than anything to do with that."

"So, they finally letting you outside alone now?"

"Only for group trips." Bill pointed out at the lake.

The three teens squinted toward the boat. "Whoa," Tambry said. "Are they arm-wrestling Bigfoot?"

"Oh, yeah. It was poker earlier."

For a moment, all activity ceased as the teens watched the battle out on the lake. Nate sat in the sand and propped his chin in his hand. Figuring Tambry was done with his stripes, Bill plopped onto his beach towel to watch as well.

Bigfoot defeated Stan, and Soos switched places with him to try next. Soos lasted five seconds before Bigfoot flipped him into the water. Melody scrambled to help pull him back aboard as Bigfoot pumped his fists in the air victoriously. Bill snorted.

"Bad luck," Robbie said. 

"I could beat him," Nate said. "Hey Robbie, think I could beat him?"

"Pfff, no."

"Bet Wendy could," Tambry said, recording through her phone as Bigfoot generously indulged Dipper and Mabel's attempt to take him on as a team. The guys murmured vague agreement with Tambry.

"Buuut anyway," Bill said, reluctant to let the conversation get too far away from himself, "yeah, I might've talked to the triangle guy a couple, several times."

"That's pretty cool," Nate said. "Hey, we oughta hang sometime, I bet Lee'd wanna hear about that. It'd probably drive Wendy crazy, but..."

Tambry let out a dismissive pff. "The triangle stuff's been driving Wendy crazy all year. She can take it."

"Not a fan?" Bill asked.

"Nah, she thinks the whole thing's creepy. Her and Thompson both."

"I think the whole cult thing's fine," Robbie said magnanimously. "As, y'know, one of the people prophesied to defeat him. If he ever really came back and caused trouble, we could handle it."

Bill tried not to roll his eye. Bold words out of a guy who, a couple of years ago, had left a plate of spaghetti in the woods to see if an "evil triangle" urban legend was true, and had thrown up when Bill dragged him into a dream state to show him just how true it was.

On Earth, urban legends about Bill tended to pop up and wither away in waves around the epicenter of his latest area of influence—like mushroom rings spreading away from a patch of ground they'd depleted of useful nutrients and left to die. Bill suspected the local urban legend Robbie had stumbled upon had been passed down in Gravity Falls for thirty years by teens misinterpreting Old Man McGucket's crazy ramblings about a "demon triangle" and "spaghettification."

He was always torn on whether to encourage or quash such urban legends: on the one hand, it was handy for humans to know he existed and was available for deals; but much less handy when they warned each other away from him. More than once, knowledge of him had nearly broken into the mainstream, and he'd had to put all his other plans on hold to focus on deflecting the whistleblowers' information into obscurity.

Apparently encouraging the spaghetti one had been the right move, if a year after his brief conquest of Gravity Falls the teens were offering him sacrifices rather than cursing his name.

Nate punched Robbie's arm. "Why would he cause us trouble? He's our chaos god, remember? We've given him offerings!"

"I like that attitude," Bill said. "Hanging out sounds fun! We'll... figure something out sometime." As soon as he found a way to make the Pines let him go outside without being surrounded by babysitters. Wouldn't that be humiliating, a full adult hanging out with teenagers and it's the adult who isn't allowed outside without a chaperone. No, that wasn't an option. If he came with an adult attached, they'd ditch him in a heartbeat for being too much of a drag.

The teens made their farewells and headed down the beach, Tambry and Robbie with their arms around each other again. Tambry wiped the anti-sunscreen off her hand onto the back of Robbie's hoodie.

As they went, they walked past Agent Powers—who was looking right at Bill.

Bill stared. The agent quickly looked away.

He didn't like that one bit. As he adjusted his position to lay face down on his towel, he said, "Hey, Dolores. You get the feeling we're being watched?"

"Hm?" Abuelita glanced up from her book toward Bill, then looked where he was looking. "Government." She made a disapproving noise and turned back to her book. "Nothing but trouble."

"You said it." Why was Powers so focused on Bill. He couldn't possibly be in any kind of trouble, he hadn't even existed until a month ago. And the eagles probably didn't know that, did they?

Nothing Bill could do about it in the middle of a beach trip. He propped his chin in his hand and checked on the fishing crew again.

In a fury, Bigfoot had ripped the motor off the back of the boat and lifted it over his head. The Pines family huddled together at the other end of the boat, trying to shield their heads.

A golden trout jumped out of the water, arced majestically through the air, and smacked Bigfoot in the face. Bigfoot stumbled backward and tripped out of the boat.

Hm. Maybe letting the trout go had been the right move. Bill shut his eyes and lay back down.

####

The sun was low and most of the beachgoers had gone home when the Stanowar chugged back to shore, battle-weary, disheveled, and dissatisfied. Except for Ford, who was wearing his sopping wet coat over his waders, holding one boot, and pleased as punch.

"Hey!" Bill shouted. "How'd it go!" He surreptitiously tossed half the bracelet over to Abuelita. She quietly slid it on.

Crankily, Stan yelled from the dock, "You didn't mention Bigfoot in a scuba tank!"

Bill shouted back, "Bigflipper wasn't there when I looked! What, did you expect me to check the entire spacetime continuum to find you the perfect fishing?!"

Faintly, he could hear Ford say, "See, I told you his proper name is Bigflipper."

Mabel repeatedly poked Dipper in the arm as they crossed the beach. Dipper flinched each time. "Ow, ow—Mabel. Cut it out."

"That's what you get for forgetting your sunscreen, bro-bro!"

Dipper's arms and face were bright red with a sunburn. "I didn't forget! I put it on at the beach, right before we left!"

Bill grabbed up Abuelita's empty water bottles and tossed them in the nearest trash can, along with the rest of his tube of anti-sunscreen before anyone could get a good look at it. He ignored the kids and said to Stan, "But it was a good fishing spot, right?"

Stan grumbled, but grudgingly admitted, "Yeah. Until tall, brown, and hairy showed up. We caught four fish! That's gotta be at least as good as the guys from the lodge, right?"

Bill winced. "Ooh. Sorry, they went by an hour ago with eleven fish."

Stan let out a roar of outrage and threw his fishing rod in the sand.

"Grunkle Stan, you don't go fishing to catch fish," Mabel said. "You go fishing to catch memories! Look at this!" She held up a bunch of photos. "This is a whole scrapbook spread right here! We caught sooo many memories."

"And my coat," Ford said. He was admiring his #1 Grunkle pen, which he'd taken from the coat pocket.

"I'd rather have fish," Stan grumbled. "All right, c'mon. Let's get..." He trailed off, looking past Bill. "Hey, is that...?"

Bill glanced back over his shoulder, and grimaced. Agent Powers and his protégé were watching them from the far end of the beach. Bill quickly turned back around. "Yep. Your old friends from last summer," he said. "They've been scoping out the beach all day. I don't know what they're here for—but you probably wanna get out of here." More importantly, Bill wanted to get out of here—but he didn't see any benefit to letting them know he was nervous.

"He's right," Ford said. "If they see us long enough to recognize us—and his memories start coming back..."

"Who are they?" Melody asked.

Soos whispered loudly, "I'll explain it in the car." Bill bit back the need to point out that whispering didn't make a difference as far away as the agents were.

"I don't get it," Stan said. "What are they doing back here?"

"You wanna go ask him?" Bill asked. Stan grimaced.

The Pines and Ramirez families piled back in their vehicles and headed out. Bill had the uneasy feeling that Agent Powers was focused on the Ramirez's truck as they left.

####

(How long have I been promising the Agent Powers plot, since like the May before last or something? Here it is!!

Next week, either we launch straight into the Powers plot, or I finally have the Axolotl chapters (it's chapters plural now) sufficiently edited and we do that first, because once we start the Powers plot there's no place for a break until it's over. Hopefully the Axolotl chapters will finally be ready by next Friday, but if they're not...... tough. It's fine though, you'll live.)

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x reader x wade wilson

rating: E, minors dni, 18+ (mmf threesome; resolved sexual tension; sex pollen; unprotected p in v sex; oral [f receiving]; double penetration)

words: 6.7k

summary: you, logan and wade are on a stakeout after reports of a new drug which only affects mutants. but what happens when you accidentally get a hit of it yourselves…? (the sex pollen fic from the poll! thank you @eupheme for betaing for me, i owe you my life!)

“I spy with my little eye…”

“Wade, I swear to god…” Logan’s voice is a low rumble, a warning.

“Awww c’mon, peanut! What else do we have to do? Indulge me in my childlike whimsy.”

“Let me guess,” you say, shelling a pistachio before throwing it in the air to catch it on your waiting tongue, “you spy something beginning with R-D, which is the rising damp, which is the fourth goddamn time you spied it because there’s nothing else in this fucking place.”

Wade huffs and throws himself back in his chair. 

“Killjoy,” he mutters, and goes back to carving obscene doodles into the side table with baby knife. 

On the first day you were happy to play along, just to ease the boredom and tension which came hand-in-hand with this arrangement. Now it’s been five of them, stacking on top of each other and getting claustrophobic-heavy, the three of you crowded into each other’s space and on the razor’s edge.

Something is going to break, and you’re worried it’ll be Wade’s nose under Logan’s fist.

What a stupid fucking mission. You should never have said yes.

Ever since the whole Void situation was resolved you, Logan and Wade have been X-Men adjacent. Not part of the group exactly but happy to play along if needed. This most recent assignment had been a request from Piotr - there was something going on downtown to do with trafficking drugs which affected mutants, and someone needed to keep an eye on it. Couldn’t be anyone from the mansion, they’re all hands on deck at the moment keeping an influx of kids in check. But the three of you? With no jobs between you and an urge to do good?

It was a problem with an obvious solution.

It’s a stakeout. Which means sitting and waiting and holy fuck is it boring. 

You can tell something is going on in the alley across the street but you’ve had strict instructions not to take action until you see the guy in charge: thickset man with a penchant for misdeeds and built like a brick shithouse. Once you have proof he’s involved, you’ll get the go-ahead to close in and shut the place down in whatever manner you see fit.

But until he comes in, your little trio has no choice but to stay put, watching petty criminals come and go with no idea they’re being monitored.

Life has revolved around watches from the dingy window. Usually two of you will stay up while one of you tries to get some sleep on one of the uncomfortable twin beds that have been provided, but it isn’t easy to drift off when it feels like the mattresses are made of cinder blocks stuffed with broken glass. It isn’t that you’re unused to being in each others’ spaces - if you’re not at their apartment they’re at yours, after all, you are friends - but this is different. You have the luxury of walking away from each other in normal day-to-day life when things gets too much. Here? Here, you’re stuck until you’re done with the job. You’re all tired, irritated, and desperate for entertainment. You’ve even considered chopping off your own hand to watch it grow back, just for something to do.

And the thing is that’s not the worst of it. Ever since the three of you returned from the Void there’s been something there. Something difficult to pin down, exactly.  A niggling little feeling worming its way through your body. Something which thrums every time Wade flexes the muscles in his hand and you see his long, strong fingers; every time Logan grits his jaw and the tendons in his neck throb. 

Oh, right. You sort of really want to fuck them both.

You don’t go through something that traumatic and not have deep-rooted feelings which surpass normal boundaries. You fought for each others’ lives. You’re bonded in a way people rarely are. And the more time you spend with them the blurrier the lines between platonic and fucking soulmate become. You’ve seen both of them stare at you - and each other - when they think you’re not looking, so you’re sure this isn’t something that only you are harbouring. It’s a secret desire harboured by all three of you.

Like you said, something is gonna break. And in this shitty little surveillance room? It’s gonna break soon.

A movement outside. The three of you sit forward to take a look at the evening’s street view, only to fall back into your chairs as it turns out to be a false alarm. Just a pedestrian walking by. You’re going to go insane.

You drum your fingers on your thighs just to keep them busy, then turn to Logan. 

“You got a smoke?”

He cocks a brow at you.

“You want a cigar?”

“Nothing else to fucking do.”

“Whoa, hey!” says Wade, putting his hand on Logan’s arm as he roots around in his jacket pocket, “no no no, you quit last year! Don’t start up bad habits again unless I’m the one convincing you to, pookie.”

“Wade, c’mon. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t have something to do,” you groan. Plus, really, you’d kinda like something to suck on, just to relieve some of the ache in your belly.

As if Wade can hear your thoughts he pipes up again.

“Well if you’re that desperate to use your mouth, I know what we could play to pass the time…”

You and Logan groan in unison, and he balls his fist in a way which suggests it’s not long until the claws come out. Wade holds up his hands to signify peace.

“Whoa, chill out, honeybadger. No need to get scratchy. You don’t have to join in if you don’t want to… but it’s more fun the more people there are.”

Accepting there’s nothing else to pass the time, Logan lets out a long, exhausted sigh and lets Wade continue.

The mercenary licks his lips as if, for once, considering his phrasing. Then blurts out what he wanted to say anyway.

“We could play blowjob roulette.”

It was a foolish time to take a drink of your soda, because you spurt it out your nose. After a moment of mopping yourself up with your sleeve you manage a, “what?!”

“Well, oral roulette I guess, if we’re being PC about it.”

“Oh my god,” Logan groans, getting to his feet and stomping into the tiny excuse for a kitchenette, grabbing a beer and opening it with such gusto that the cap bounces off an adjacent wall.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything! We just spin the bottle and whoever it ends up pointing out deals out a round of Australian kisses for the other players. Relieves the boredom, and it’s fun to see how long everyone lasts.”

Your mouth is open, you’re sure of it. You’re looking at Wade in abject horror. This has got to just be part of his stupid bravado, right? Making an ill-timed joke?

Because the other option is he’s serious.

Logan drinks. You stare. Wade rabbits on.

“I’m just saying we used to play it at Sister Margaret’s all the time, when we were waiting for new marks to come in and didn’t have anything better to do! It wasn’t gay or anything except for, you know, the rampant homoeroticism of slurping everyone’s gherkin.”

“Did you… did you ever have to do it?” you ask, morbid fascination taking over. He scoffs.

“Did I ever have to… pookie, I’ve taken more loads than my building’s washing machine. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty fucking great at it.”

He’s staring at you with an intensity which makes you feel like you’re on fire, but from embarrassment or enthusiasm you’re not sure. 

“So?” he asks, quietly, putting a hand on your knee. Your body burns. You swallow. You look to Logan. 

He sighs. Finishes his beer, but in a way which suggests he’s giving in. You see the way Logan’s teeth touch his bottom lip. The start of a fricative. 

He’s going to say fine.

Movement out of the window. You bolt up, knocking Wade’s hand away. He deflates.

“Aww. But I really wanted to - ”

“No, guys - look!”

They quickly crowd you, following where you point. A huge man walks into the alleyway, flanked by underlings, the bulk of him taking up the small space.

“There’s our guy,” you say, “let’s go.”

You descend upon the alleyway in a flash of swords and claws. You tug your cowl up over your nose to protect your face, hand on one of your Brügger & Thomet MP9s as the three of you come face-to-face with the door you’ve been monitoring all week.

“So are we going in sneaky style, or—”

Logan rips the door off its hinges, throwing it down the length of the alley; he is desperate to be done with this. You exchange a look with Wade.

“Okiedokie, asked and answered I guess,” he sighs, grabbing his Desert Eagles from his holsters.

You both follow Logan who’s thrown himself into the middle of the lab claws-first. Two-thirds of the people scream and flee, the others stand their guard and grab their guns.

Fingers on triggers, you take a beat to examine the situation.

Equipment everywhere. Beakers and cylinders you can possibly guess the use for, set up on desks and synthesising something nasty. The boss is standing in the middle of the room, eyebrow cocked and mild annoyance plastered on his face. Bingo. You make a beeline for him, taking a couple of bullets in your flank as you go.

“Cover me!” you shout to Wade. He pulls his katana out of a guy’s head and throws you a bloodied thumbs-up.

“Got your back, pookie! Hate to see you leave, love to watch you spill entrails as you go!”

As if he was predicting your next action, you whip your knife out of your belt and stab it in an assailant’s belly, watching his warm guts slide onto the floor. He releases a strangled noise as he drops to his knees - you make a move to continue on your way to the boss only to feel someone pick you up.

“Shit!” you mutter as you’re hoisted into the air. Wade and Logan stop their onslaught to turn at the sound of your panic, their eyes both going wide as they see you restrained. With a twinned shout of your name they come running to help.

Aww, your boys. It’d be cute if you weren’t bracing yourself for the pain.

Your attacker launches you across the room. A couple of seconds go by as you fly through the air - and then into a table full of test tubes and pipettes.

A great cloud rises into the air. A cloud of spores?

Before you can get a chance to properly read the situation, Wade and Logan are at your side. Sturdy hands grasp around your forearms and you’re dragged to your feet. 

Of course, it goes unnoticed…but all three of you take in a deep breath.

“You okay, baby?” rasps Logan. 

“Yeah, I’m f— move!” you scream, shouldering him out of the way so you can sink your knife into the neck of the man about to spray bullets down his spine. As you rip through the soft skin at his throat something occurs to you. 

‘Baby’? Where did that come from?

Not that it isn’t nice, obviously, but… it’s unlike Logan to show that much tenderness ever. Especially with pet names.

Oh well, no time to dwell.

Picking bits of glass from your biceps you tank a punch from a man closing in on your left, parry his next couple of blows, then shoot him in the dick. Wade has called this a ‘low blow’ before which isn’t incorrect but honestly, there’s no time for fighting fair when it’s 3-versus-30. 

The boss has finally gotten involved. A pair of brass knuckles shines against his fist as he swings at Logan, a meaty crack filling the air in a way which you’re worried might actually have dented one of your friend’s ribs. Wade uses the distraction to stab a katana into the guy’s back, then another one a little further up - using him like a goddamn climbing wall. The boss roars like an animal and attempts to swat him off but there’s no use. His massive bulk is working against him, and Wade can be a fast little motherfucker when he wants to be.

Wade lets out a ‘peekaboo!” as he pops up over the boss’s shoulder, pressing his pistol into the meat of his neck and firing. Blood sprays across the floor but somehow the guy doesn’t stop, not even when Logan picks himself back up and sinks both his claws into his stomach; it only elicits another snarl.

Okay, time to close.

You sheath your guns and go back to your knife, using Logan as a launchpad as you throw yourself off the arch of his back and into the air - stabbing down into the boss’s skull with a dull thunk.

A line of blood dribbles out of his mouth. He starts to fall.

“Uh oh - call me Ke$ha, because I’m yelling timber!” Wade warns. With a snarl Logan rips his claws free from muscle, snatching you off of the boss’s corpse as he stumbles forward under his own weight. Pulling you free you both lose your footing, and you crash down onto your friend.

You look at Logan.

He looks at you. 

Suddenly, his hands clasp around your hips. Probably you move you off of him…

And then you’re on fire. 

Like gasoline has made a line from his touch to your cunt, everything in you is set ablaze. Your pussy clenches and you’ve never felt so empty before - or at least not so aware of it.

There is a cock-shaped hole and it’s begging to be filled.

You expect Logan to freak out, you’re freaking out - you never thought you had a murder kink but you guess you’re never too old to find out something new about yourself - but he doesn’t.

Instead you just see him furrow his brow as if processing something; then acknowledge the press of his hardening cock rub against your thigh as he bucks up into you.

Oh no. Something is wrong.

When you feel Wade grab your shoulder and haul you back to your feet it’s the same, that delicious burning sensation rocketing through you… and from the way he moans as soon as his hands are on you, the feeling is mutual. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” he breathes. Yeah. You want to, that’s the issue.

You stagger away from him with wide eyes and electric skin, a beat passing between the three of you as the people left in the lab decide to give up the fight now their boss is toast. Hearts racing, hands wanting to reach out and touch.

Logan is the one to break the silence.

“We should call in and let the others know we’re done,” he manages. You nod.

“Yeah. Can we… can we go back across the street? I don’t feel so good.”

“Oh, don’t you go Spider-Man Infinity War Part 1 on me,” Wade chuckles. You don’t have the energy to work out what he’s referencing, especially when a jolt goes through your body to your cunt when you feel his eyes meet yours. 

Damn. This is bad. 

“Yeah. Of course, honey,” Logan manages. He goes to put his hand on the small of your back and then thinks better of it, though you can feel its nearness like a magnetic pull. You almost moan when he retracts his touch instead. Wade whips his phone out and fires off a message to let someone know a cleanup crew is needed as you stagger out of the alleyway and back across the street. 

You didn’t bother closing the door when you ran out, too desperate to monopolise on the chance of getting your mark. The three of you tumble back into the room you’d been dying to get out of just a scant few minutes ago, relieved to be in the privacy of its confines again.

A moment passes as all three of you adjust to the feeling coursing through your bodies.

“What’s happening?” you breathe, bracing your hands on the back of your go-to wooden chair and breaking it with the force of your grip. You wince at the sound of splintering, blood dripping down your palms before you feel it heal over.

“I’ve not felt like this since I first discovered how easy it was to masturbate to Good Housekeeping,” Wade groans, whipping off his mask as he flops down onto the battered-up-couch. Logan has made his way to the fridge again, practically ripping its door off to get to a beer which he downs in one swig. Fuck. It’s so sexy. You want to lick the muscles in his neck.

“It’s a pollen,” he states, voice rocky in a way which goes straight to the burning pit of your stomach. You and Wade exchange a look and then turn to him, waiting for further explanation. “Only has a reaction in mutants. Charles said it was something about putting the id into overdrive, like a fuckin’ adrenaline shot to the libido.”

“It… it makes you aroused?” you manage, attempting not to rock your cunt into the palm of your hand. Logan grunts.

“Was trying to be more tactful, but yeah, honey. That’s the idea.”

Honey. The pet name once again goes down your spine.

“Fucking sorry,” says Wade, “someone was manufacturing this stuff as a drug for what? To make mutants too horny to fight?”

Logan shrugs, still not tearing his gaze from his empty bottle, as if to agree it’s his best guess. Wade’s head falls back against the sofa’s arm.

“I mean, damn, they could have just shown me any frame from Magic Mike XXL and it would have had the same result. Seems like a lot of effort.”

Something about the way Logan talks sticks out to you, you circle back around to it. 

“Logan, you seem to know a lot about this stuff… have you encountered it before?”

Another beer grabbed and chugged down, the forward hunch in his shoulders physical evidence of his walls raising. 

“Once. Back in the day with the other X-Men.”

“How did you get through it? Does it go away?”

Logan doesn’t reply. Drinks.

The unspoken answer sinks in.

“Oh my god, you had to fuck it out, didn’t you?” gasps Wade. Logan doesn’t even growl. Jesus Christ he’s right. “Who was it? Storm? Beast? By the love of all things 100k+ enemies-to-lovers-slowburn, tell me it was Cyclops.”

Logan doesn’t dignify him with an answer, instead putting the empty bottle down with enough force you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter.

“It’ll pass. I just need to sit it out,” he reasons, the grit in his jaw suggesting this isn’t the optimal solution. You feel your eyebrows tug together, a crease of concern settling between them.

“But…”

“I’ll be fine.” The way he says it, he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. With the room in the air practically throbbing he heads to the bedroom, leaving you and Wade alone.

Holy shit. You and Wade are alone.

Your eyes wander over to him, to find his gaze is already resting heavy on you. Your skin lights up.

“So, uh,” he starts, shifting himself awkwardly where his hard-on is trapped in his suit, “you read any good books lately?”

That does help to alleviate the tension and you find yourself chuckling, only for the relief to be ablated when your empty pussy pulses. You whine.

“Wade…”

As soon as you say his name he’s rushing over to you, helping you sit down on the ruined chair. You both moan as hot skin slides against hot skin. 

“Look, it isn’t…” you groan as you slide your hand up his bicep. Fuck, he’s strong. “...it isn’t a crazy idea to help each other out, right? We’re friends. It’s just two friends giving each other a hand…”

Wade dips down to run the bridge of nose along the line of your jaw, letting his lips drop to the pulse in your neck.

“Just friends…” he mutters. You buck up into nothing. Oh, god. You’re going to die here. “Baby?”

Oh shit, oh fuck. You want him to call you that over and over again, stamp it into your fucking mind.

“Yeah?” you reply, the word ripped rawly from your throat.

“I wanted to do this before we even left this goddamn apartment, you think I might have changed my mind after the mutant viagra?”

He pulls back just enough for you to see the seriousness on his face. No, he’s not joking, not saying something dirty just because he thinks it’s funny. 

He’s saying it because it’s true, and it’s both thrilling and terrifying. 

“Can I?”

Oh, it’s so tempting to say yes yes yes… but the more tempting thing is to tease him. Just a little.

You hook your leg over his shoulder and he groans as you dig your heel into the muscle of his back. He groans loud and long.

“Wade?”

“Mmm?”

“Ask me properly.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and you’re pretty sure he’s making a mess in his suit.

“Fuck, can I eat you out, baby? Please?”

You nod so fast you fear you’ll break your neck.

Wade lifts you like you weigh fucking nothing at all, strong arms scooping you up and bringing you to the couch - desperate for more space. His hands move quick and roughly as he goes to the pants on your suit, so wracked with need his fingers shake just from the promise of getting to touch you properly. You help him as much as you can, toeing off your boots and helping him tug your underwear off along with your waistband. His eyes widen as he realises your panties are in his hands. He takes a moment to run his thumb over the cotton of them and he fucking moans. Oh, god damn it, you’re going to be fucking ruined.

“Fuck. Never seen a pussy look this good,” he breathes as he finds himself face-to-face with your dripping cunt. You’re already so wet that it’s embarrassing and, while it would be easy enough to blame on the pollen, you know that you’ve wanted this for months. When he drags his tongue up your puffy, desperate folds, you pretty much combust.

“Oh shit,” you groan, wrapping your other leg round his face to hold him flush against you - not that Wade needs any convincing though, because you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck you with his mouth before. He buries himself in you, scarred hands reaching up to dig into the soft skin of your thighs and keep you steady. He wants you at his own pace, it seems, and is strong enough to make it happen. Fuck, you are not complaining.

Wade’s eyes flit upwards to see how you’re reacting as he moves his whole face side to side to bury himself into your cunt deeper. It’s like he’s trying to find where your scent is the strongest and, honestly? With what you’ve heard about this pollen stuff? Seems right on track. He has no hair for you to bury your fingers in so instead you press your hand to the top of his head and pull him closer, because god knows you don’t have the ability to vocalise it. You sink your fingernails in so he knows, though.

Holy hell you’ve never felt so good. The pollen is heightening everything, each movement he makes into you shooting shockwaves through your nerves. Wade’s tongue is insistent in exploring every inch of you, pressing bluntly into your clit; lapping at the wetness seeping from you like he’ll die if he can’t taste what he’s doing to you; dragging down to your ass and toying with you there, too. Yes, fuck, anything he goddamn wants. When his teeth skim the needy folds of your cunt you jackknife into his mouth, almost breaking them clean out of his gums.

“Holy shit, babe. What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles, pupils so blown wide with lust that his eyes are eclipsed with black. You chase after him with your hips.

“Not you, and that’s the problem,” you harrumph. He grins and you see how covered with your slick he is and fuck you are going to die here. 

“I’ll take care of you. That’s what friends do, right?” he asks, putting emphasis on the word you’re both masquerading behind. When you reach out with a searching hand he threads his finger through yours wordlessly, using the other to grab a pillow so he has something to fuck up against. You feel a tiny bit bad for not offering to help but you know he’ll get his in time - in fact just thinking about sucking his cock your mouth begins to water.

He presses his palm into yours as he goes back to your cunt with his mouth. It takes only moments for him to start up his desperate pace again, tongue sinfully sweet, and you’re chasing and chasing…

Stars explode in your vision and in your blood. The noise you let out is feral, a euphony of pleasure and you don’t care who hears. Wade’s eyes drift close as he tastes your orgasm directly at his lips, drinking you down. You’re certain his hips stutter as he comes just from getting you off. Oh god it’s so hot.

Oh god, you’re not done.

Wade surges up your body and kisses you ferociously, you moan at the taste of yourself he gives back. 

“Fuck, yes, do you taste that, baby? What did I do to you? Holy fuck you are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…”

“Wade, I need you.”

“Yeah, fuck, okay. Let me get this stupid sexy suit off…”

Hands begin to fumble messily, needily at each other’s zippers in order to strip. You sit up to get a better handle on him—

And freeze when you see you have an audience.

Wade follows your gaze to where Logan is standing in the bedroom doorway. He’s managed to get his suit off and change back into his jeans, though you can’t imagine he’ll want to stay in them for long the way his trapped cock is staining dark blue denim even darker. He’s gripping the doorframe with such force that his claws have popped out, eyes a matching pitch black to Wade’s, chest heaving as he watches the show.

“You okay, honey badger?” Wade drawls, a cocky smile dragging across him. Logan grunts. Swallows hard. You go for a softer tactic.

“Logan, sweetheart, you wanna join in?” your voice is husky as you ask, oh so inviting. Logan squeezes his eyes shut and his fist tight, taking a chunk out of the wall.

“Get into the goddamn bedroom, both of you,” he growls. The two of you absolutely do not need to be told twice. Partially undressed you vault over the back of the dishevelled sofa, letting Logan lead the way. As soon as you’re within arms’ reach he snags you around the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

Logan kisses like he wants to devour you. Rough, commanding, dragging his tongue into your mouth as if trying to claim you. Oh, you’ll let him a hundred times over. You mewl when his hand reaches down you cup your still dripping pussy, immediately swiping a thumb against your clit. It pulses as if Wade didn’t just pull an orgasm out of you.

“Fuckin’ needy little thing,” he snarls, delighted. You reach down to grab the bulge he’s rocking, squeezing hard enough to get him to groan.

“Look who’s talking,” you chuckle. He taps at the top of your suit, an instruction. 

“Off,” he says, but that’s as much as he gets to say, because Wade grabs him by the beard and steers him in for a kiss. You pause for just a second to see what will happen but clearly you needn’t have worried - Logan moans into your friend’s mouth, grabbing a handful of Wade’s pretty decent ass and digging in his fingers. While they’re busy you finish stripping, going for the zipper on the back of the red suit and pulling it down. It’s such a goddamn stupid design having it at the back like a goddamn prom dress - but at the moment you’re kinda thankful for it because it means you get to kiss along the revealed plain of skin. Wade has such beautiful fucking back muscles, you’ve stared at them for long enough to memorise every damned one.

He steps out of the suit when you get to his feet - yeah, he did come just from eating you out earlier and holy fuck are you proud - and lets out a strangled noise when you bite the meat of his asscheek hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, are you gonna rim me? Because if so I’m a thousand percent down,” he chokes, pulling away from Logan’s mouth and leaving a string of spit between them, evidence of a messy kiss. You shrug.

“You want me to, baby?”

Wade seems to have a crisis of faith as he considers this, letting Logan nibble down the length of his neck; eventually he shakes his head though.

“No, I wanna be inside you, like, yesterday,” he confesses. 

“I’ve got enough room for two,” you state, so absolutely sure the pollen will accommodate that you don’t even need to think about it. Both Wade and Logan suck in a breath at that idea.

“Fuck, baby, aren’t you just perfect,” Logan drawls, grabbing you by the hips as you stand up and pulling you to the pathetic twin bed this apartment was provided with. Not how you wanted this first time to go down but hey, at least it’s going down at all. No longer just a dirty fantasy you bury your fingers into your cunt imagining but a real bonafide liaison (boner-fide liaison, Wade’s voice in your head pipes up).

You paw at his jeans, desperate to have all three of you naked and ready. There’s nothing to hide between you any more. Any boundaries have been not only crossed but decimated, absolutely destroyed beyond repair, and you couldn’t be happier. When his cock falls heavy into your palm you can’t help but suck air in through your teeth at its sheer size. Logan chuckles, gravelly and tempting.

“Oh it’ll fit, baby,” he coos, as if reading your mind. Fuck. Yep, it will. There’s no two ways about it. You’re having both Wade and Logan inside you if it kills you.

He wraps you in his arms before you can have any more thoughts on the matter and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, the pollen in your veins making you feel every touch like the end of a live wire - yet you keep coming back to get shocked. Logan positions himself under you, chest-to-chest, grinning at the way your nipples rub against the coarse and gorgeous hair of his chest. There’s a slapping noise and you realise it’s Wade’s hand on Logan’s thigh, encouraging him to move up the bed.

“Big boy, you know you have to scoot up if this is happening. I’m all for fucking the same pussy together but you have to be realistic…”

Obscured by your body, only you get to see the way Logan rolls his eyes fondly at Wade’s blabbering. He manouveurs you both to allow Wade room to kneel on the mattress behind you and you gasp at the feeling of their cocks bullying at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, body on fire and desperate to be extinguished by them. Logan hums in your ear.

“I know, baby, I know. We’ll take care of you.”

“And each other. I got sex-pollened too, old man,” Wade harrumphs, rubbing his head against the slick lips of your cunt. 

“Nobody’s forgetting you, princess,” he murmurs, “now be good and put me inside.”

Logan probably misses the soft hiss Wade lets out at that, but you feel the way the mercenary’s hand wraps around his cock and presses Logan to your empty cunt. You moan in pleasure as he follows the path Wade has laid out and pushes himself inside of you, no resistance given. It takes you only a couple of seconds to adjust to the pure size of him. Holy shit, if this were any other time you’d be falling apart by now, but the way your body pumps with desperation suggests one dick alone isn’t going to be enough.

“You okay?” Logan rumbles by your ear. You cling onto him for dear life, nodding.

“Yeah. Fuck, Wade, I know you’ll fit, you’ve gotta fuck me too.”

Wade doesn’t even have an answer for that. Instead you feel his thumb tug at your lips, stretching you for him - or just watching the way Logan fills you, getting off on the filthy way you’re plugged. Another cock begins to press at your already stuffed hole and you whine.

“S’okay, I gotcha,” Logan says through gritted teeth as he feels Wade’s length slide along his own, the feeling almost overwhelming for him. You drop your head to his shoulder and choke on your own spit as Wade forces himself inside of you. Your cunt feels like it is about to burst into flames in the most satisfying way possible, flowering open between them both.

“Fuck, never felt anything so goddamn tight in my life…” Wade manages. Eventually he bottoms out alongside Logan, both of them sitting snugly inside of you, sharing you, clutched in your warmth. 

“There we go,” Logan growls. “You okay, baby?”

Not knowing if the question is aimed at you or Wade you both whine a yes. Logan laughs and you feel his chest move beneath you, all muscle and heat.

“I’m gonna move now.”

He drags himself out of you, inch by glorious inch, like a match striking against a box and sparking an ember. A deep ragged breath shudders through you at the feeling of it but it is nothing compared to how he slams back inside. Lights flood your periphery. You are going to fucking die between these two men and that is fine. Heaven, even.

Once Wade feels Logan’s rhythm it is too much of a competition for him not to match it. The mercenary’s arms fall either side of your bodies to support himself as he works himself in and out of you, sliding deep as Logan retreats to the tip. Your cunt makes a lewd noise as they piston inside of you and you have never cared about anything less in your life. You are bathed in light, high off this, euphoric over being fucked. A tiny rivulet of drool falls from the edge of your mouth into Logan’s chest hair and he curses at the glorious rawness of it all.

Above you, Wade has finally found his voice again.

“Look at you taking us so well. Oh, fuck, goddamn. I’ve wanted you like this for so long. Remember when we were neighbours, honey? Those guys who you used to bring home… fuck, baby… I used to give myself the old low-five to the sound of you getting fucked…”

You make a pathetic little noise which spurs him onwards. Wade’s mouth drops to your ear.

“...and I used to get angry because I knew I could do it better myself.”

“Oh my god Wade…” you whisper. Tears are beginning to pool in your eyes at the way you’re starting to get overstimulated, two cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you verges on being too much. Were the pollen not still in full force you’re sure you’d need to tap out.

“And you?” Wade’s hand grips Logan’s bicep, squeezing appreciatively. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every morning and see you shirtless on my couch, and not be able to fuck you? You do it on purpose, peanut, I swear…”

Logan chuckles again, that deep honey-rich sound eked out in magnitudes. 

“And what if I do, Red?”

Wade pauses in his thrusting, you don’t have to see him to know that his eyes are wide.

“Wait, what? For real?”

“Wade!” you whine, reaching over to slap at his arm, annoyed that he’s stopped moving. “Can we all just agree we’ve gotten off to the thought of each other and we’d have fucked eventually anyway?”

The men either side of you seem to think it’s a good compromise to come to and redouble their efforts. All you can do is to cling onto whatever muscles you’re able to find and ride the wave of pleasure. Fireworks go off in your synapses, brain a messy goo of euphoria, cunt fucked out and thoroughly taken care of. 

They speed up, thrusts getting messy and arrhythmic and yet still somehow matching, and you know that they’re going to come together. What a fucking treat, how divine, oh god. Logan’s hands sink into your ass to keep you anchored as his cock goes faster, skin slapping on skin as his sac moves against Wade’s - causing the merc to let out a string of curses - and you’re suddenly flooded with his warm, sticky cum pumping inside you in jets. Wade whines at the feeling of himself being doused and follows Logan’s lead. The filthy cocktail of them drips around both their lengths and out of your hole, falling onto the pathetic mattress below. One last little nudge of the hips is all it takes to push you over the edge again. Your next orgasm is dragged out of you… but you know your body will demand more.

For now, though, respite. The urge to reach that peak again immediately has at least settled for the moment.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh. Logan hums an affirmative note, fingers playing with the small of your back as Wade peppers kisses across your shoulderblades.

“We should go on stakeouts more often, if this is the nice little bow everything gets tied up in,” Wade sighs, dreamily. You nod against Logan’s chest. His hair rubs your cheek deliciously. Your pussy throbs again, reminding you this dirty escapade needs to continue soon. “So what does this mean? Are we a little mutant charcuterie now?”

Your brow furrows as you try to parse what Wade has just said.

“Oh. Wade, baby, do you mean ‘coterie’?”

Logan bursts out laughing, a noise you’ve never properly heard before, and it has you grinning - and Wade, too, even though he grumbles a little at being corrected. Their cocks jostle inside you and you feel them getting hard again and, as you prepare yourself for round two, it’s nice to know that whatever the three of you face at the end of this will be happy.

Three days later, you’re laid across the couch, head in Wade’s lap and legs in Logan’s, all tangled together as you get the single worst telling-off of your life.

“Non-lethal mission, Wade! How many times did I have to tell you, it was meant to be non-lethal!” Piotr shouts down the line. Wade grimaces.

“Look, there were other things we had to sort out first, okay? We kinda forgot about the no-killing part. Besides the guy can’t traffic drugs if he’s dead,” he confesses. You can picture Piotr’s disappointed face.

“Other things!? WHAT other things, Wade?!”

“Okay so there was this horny pollen, and we all had to—”

Logan grabs Wade’s phone and hurls it across the room. It shatters into pieces against the wall. Wade gawps.

“Hey! That was new! Well, okay, not new, but it wasn’t cracked. Well, it was cracked, but it had all my best dick pics on there!”

“You can take new ones,” Logan states. 

You smile. Yeah. The charcuterie is nice.

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐥 | 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐧

summary: alex tries to bribe you into giving him a second chance. you accept the bribe—but, only because it will benefit the seals. definitely not because you want to see him again, or anything.

pairing: alex albon x seal specialist fem!black!reader

from, serene: almost had to split this final part into two! i hope y'all don't mind me hitting that max photo limit loll happy reading, loves xxx

⌕ prev | join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents | seal you later toc ↻

messages • yn -> coral • twitter dm's • alex -> yn

messages • max please unmute us gc -> alex

twitter • alex_albon • messages • yn -> coral

twitter dm's • alex -> yn

messages • • max please unmute us gc -> alex • yn -> coral

twitter

instagram • williamsracing & pacificmmc • october 12th

liked by f1, georgerussell63, seallygirlyn, and 85,734 others

williamsracing alex had a wonderful time on his private tour of the pacific marine mammal center! thanks to yn ln for showing us around and letting us meet some seals and seal pups! you can watch the tour video on our youtube through the link in our bio as well as donating to the pacific marine mammal center to help them conserve our oceans and wildlife!

pacificmmc alex_albon seallygirlyn

view comments

alex_albon: it was incredible to see the important work being done everyday to maintain our oceans firsthand! even better to be able to adopt optimus prime, my seal son <3

➥ charlesleclerc: find an original character trait albono 😡🙄 ➥ user1: f1 has become the most unserious sport in the world. ➥ user2: are you not entertained???

pacificmmc: it was a pleasure to host alex, even though he threatened to kidnap some of our pups ;)

➥ alex_albon: can you blame me? look at their faces! ➥ francolapinto: i am jealous 🥺 ➥ seallygirlyn: silly franco ☺️ only boys who break strangers phones and run away are allowed to do the fun pr events! ➥ francolapinto: 😂😂😂

user4: omg!!! yn and alex met again??!!! watching the video rn

➥ user5: IM SCREAMINGGG ➥ user6: the seal puppies little noises i just wanna take a lil bite ➥ user7: cute agression was on 💯💯💯

user8: alex making more alex noises as he had to feed the seals slimy fish 💀💀💀

➥ seallygirlyn: i almost confused his noises with the pups lol! ➥ user8: omg hiiii! you're literally living my dream! i want to work in marine conservation efforts just like you! ➥ seallygirlyn: visit our website for more on marine science and programs around the world < 3 i still feel like i'm living in a dream every day haha

seallygirlyn: alex was a very attentive guest! and he didn't even break any property :)

➥ alex_albon: please let it go already !!! ➥ alex_albon: what more do you want from meeeeee 🫠😫 ➥ seallygirlyn: my lost seal photos ➥ user9: holding a grudge 🤝🏽 seallygirlyn

messages • alex -> yn

instagram • williamsracing • october 20th • austin ⚑

liked by 43,592 others

williamsracing double points finishes for our boys this weekend! i wonder if it has anything to do with the seally good luck charm alex had on his side of the garage?

view comments

williamsracing: funniest moment this weekend was alex almost missing sprint qualifying because he was too busy talking to seallygirlyn

➥ seallygirlyn: I AM SO SORRY WILLIAMS F1 TEAM 🤧 ➥ coral: PLEASE DON'T BAN US !!! I WOULD LIKE TO ATTEND MANY MORE RACES ➥ francolapinto: yes admin do not be mean coral was very sweet 😇 ➥ coral: hwat? ➥ user10: franco needs to be castrated PLA

alex_albon: i ALMOST missed sprint qualifying—everybody’s freaking out for no reason 🥱

➥ alex_albon: also can you blame me? she was talking to me about jellyfish and i lost track of time ➥ seallygirlyn: this is the 2nd most embarrassing day of my life😖😭😭😭 ➥ user11: what's the first? ➥ seallygirlyn: when alex told the entire internet i cried when my phone broke ➥ user12: valid 😪

user13: she's a disrespectful guest and didn't respect the team's or alex's time the entire weekend. she should not be allowed to return.

➥ alex_albon: when? ➥ user13: when what? ➥ alex_albon: when did anybody ask for your opinion 🤨

messages • alex -> yn

twitter

igstory • alex_albon just uploaded!

[caption1; the only thing i cheat on is a diet plan][caption2; pretty views in santa monica]

replies limited

seallygirlyn: it was such a beautiful view! alex_albon: beautiful girl too 😏 seallygirlyn: smooth 😅

logansargeant: dude "pretty views" was the best you could come up with alex_albon: what's wrong with that???? logansargeant: i forget how old you are sometimes

twitter • postseason

instagram • seallygirlyn • january 23rd

liked by 32,973 others

seallygirlyn after review from the board (five water pups) he's awarded my seal of approval x alex_albon

comments on this post have been limited.

alex_albon: the amount of fish i had to feed them to get this distinction was frightening 😰

seallygirlyn: should've watched where you were running the first time we met < 3 alex_albon: but if i never ran into you, would we have ended up here?

instagram • alex_albon • january 23rd

liked by 1,592,368 others

alex_albon sealed it with a kiss x

view comments

seallygirlyn: love you seally boy 🥰

➥ alex_albon: love you more seally girl 🧜🏾‍♀️

georgerussell63: i always believed in you mate 💪🏼

-alex_albon: i vividly recall you bullying me everyday until i asked her out ➥ georgerussell63: how does that contradict the statement i made 🧐🧐🧐

user14: where's the two barbie dogs dancing gif when you need it? so happy for you both!!!!

user15: the other formula one drivers do not need to use this relationship announcement as a guide. please do a soft launch or you risk being responsible for my heart failing.

➥ alex_albon: does nobody remember the posts on my story like three months ago 😔 ➥ user16: TWO PHOTOS on a STORY from THREE MONTHS ago is not a soft launch YOU ASSHOLE 🤬 ➥ seallygirlyn: i did tell him that we should've had a proper sl :/

logansargeant: now when do i get to meet her 😈

➥ alex_albon: never 🫡 ➥ seallygirlyn: next time your in cali! we named a pup after you at the center :))) ➥ logansargeant: alex if you screw up this relationship i will never forgive you

maxverstappen1: i hate puns 😾

➥ landonorris: man just sealabrate this good time with us mate ➥ maxverstappen1: i'm going to flip out ➥ oscarpiastri: i hope you know that was also a pun 😂

general taglist (ask to join):

@saintslewis/@cherry2stems/@lorarri/@mindless-rock/@biancathecool

@barnestatic/@darleneslane/@lovingaphroditesworld/@smoothopz/@vetteltea

@tallrock35/@spideybv28/@loomiscorpse/@hiireadstuff/@namgification

@gg-trini/@multi-fandom-rando/@landoslutmeout/@love-simon/@iloveyou3000morgan/

@rexit-mo/@oscahpastry/@sweatrevenge5436-blog/@bokutos-babyowl/@oliviah-25

@evermoreandroyalblue/@riveristhebest1/@xylinasdiary/@ashiekins/@flowergirl1134

@hearts4robs/@c-losur3/@bloodyymaryyy/@awritingtree/@lammys-thinking

@nikfigueiredo/@bbreezyxoxo

seal you later taglist (closed):

@poppysrin @everythingabby101 @mangotaitai/@sumlovesjude/@nichmeddar

@panicforspec @formulaal @tellybearryyyy @greywritesthings @daddyslittlevillain

© httpsserene 2024 — photos used from pinterest. do not re-upload.

[dropsnectar]

When a Fox is Bored...

M!Kitsune x gn!reader

NSFW

A Kitsune who recently inherited a new territory, of which your house is smack in the middle of. 

As an easily bored spirit, he finds the thought of pranking you hilarious. He starts out with small things, moving your cereal bowl in the morning, replacing dish washing detergent with dish soap. He laughs quietly to himself as he watches you search for what should have been obviously in front of you, eyebrows furrowed, and confusion fueling his quiet laughter. He watched you run around in horror, trying to scoops bubbles into water buckets. Something about your confusion and panic satisfied him. 

He made a habit of visiting you and making something go wrong. But after the fifth prank, something changed. You laughed at how your water bottle, once filled with water, was now orange juice. Your missing backpack, instead of being on the table, under your bed. You cleaned the place up, reducing clutter. You kept your bags close, and hummed to yourself as you searched about, peaceful. This picked at something in him. Your worried expression had been his after all. He upped the ante.

He messed with your washing machine. That prank took a while, since as a spirit of nature, tech was foreign to him. Filled with pride expecting your eyes to go big and your lips purse for him, all you did was roll your eyes and take your clothes and laundry detergent to the bathroom. You turned on a little play on your little black rock, and filled the tub with water soap and clothes. Then you got to work, stomping like you were pressing grapes for wine. Despite the distraction of the “phone”, your face was still crinkled in effort, sweat drifting down your brow. He liked this expression. Maybe this too was a prank well done.

At some point, you had started making double helpings for dinner. In the past, meals of ramen and grocery potatoes salad had turned into steaks, chicken and pasta. 

You would pour two glasses of wine and put out a plate and a glass on the old stump by the back door. Curious, the kitsune would eat up, soon enamored with your cooking.

About time! It was only right of you to give him offerings. You were in his territory after all. In the mornings you would collect the dishes, and the cycle would continue.

Of course, this didn't mean he would stop his favorite source of entertainment. Far from it. He'd replace your coffee maker with one of a differing model. He'd leave piles of fruit by the door, savoring your surprised reaction as you looked around, not noticing the small form he had taken behind the door. He learned your preferences, your schedule, even your sorrows as you poured over a hastily scrawled budget that just wouldn't add up the way it should. 

He had to admit sometimes his pranks grew even farther then he meant to. You had dressed up to the 9s for a much needed job interview, with a man whose soul was so gray he could see it through the phone. You had gotten in your old, rusty car, only for it to get hit by a huge black Denali, five minutes from your house.

Out stepped a gentle older man in a weathered cardigan. The old man listened to you cry, as you waved about a dead phone, and explained how you couldn't afford this. You had missed the job interview you so desperately needed.

 This was the part that bewildered the kitsune. He wasn't sure if it was his own magic or yours, but the older man offered you a job on the spot, twice the salary you were looking for. The old man's aura was a gentle green. This satisfied the kitsune. This man would take care of his favorite victim.

His heart filled with satisfaction at how you bounced and garbled out thank yous. He didn't fail to notice that dinner that night came with a whole tray of brownies. You made him cupcakes when you got the huge insurance check in the mail. 

After dinner, he was surveying you as you watched “Net-fix”, something about a mute woman rescuing a lake monster, when you turned the TV off and headed upstairs. 

This intrigued the kitsune, as you usually watched television for another hour before passing out. 

You took off your pants and crawled into bed. The room was quiet except for your breathy moans as you pleasured yourself, one hand working yourself up under your underwear.

The smell that filled the room was mouthwatering. And the way you mewled out made the kitsune feral. He was on you in a few minutes, transforming from his invisible form to his most majestic one. He leaned over you, eyes red and hungry, as he pinned your free hand over your head and licked his lips.

“Its you.” You whispered, voice light and merry. It was like it had been a long grey winter and the sun had finally decided to come out. It was an expression he had never collected from you and it made his heart heavy.

“I knew you were here. Thank you. For everything.”

He stared at you, now full of apprehension. But a peice of him was still so full of joy that you recognized him. That you saw him and wanted him with you now.

“You have been my playtoy. I have made your life difficult more times than I have lightened it.”

“You kept me on my toes” you laughed out, tone innocent. “But I know how to deal with boys who tug my pigtails. And you haven't tugged on them in a long time.” You reached your other hand forward and brought it to his cheek. It was a gentle gesture of affection, but it did not have the soothing effect you intended. 

Your hand smelled so full of your core it drove him insane, dick throbing and hard under his robes. He took your hand and brought it to his mouth, swallowing down any residue that had been left on your fingers. The face you made was adorable, how your eyes glowed and the ghost of your tongue peaked out from your lips. He was going to collect so many faces from you tonight, and they would all be his. YOU would be his.

He discarded his robes and your underwear with magic, a tidy pile on the chair next to the bed. Then, he was on you, mouth nibbling your neck, biting you collarbone, before licking at the marks he had made. He rutted his hips against you for relief as he claimed your mouth, your tongue swirling around his. Your hands grasped hard to his back, nails scratching. It was your way of claiming him too, of this he was sure, and it was just too damn cute.

He dragged himself around your entrance, laughing and saying he wouldn't enter you until you begged him for it. You pouted at him and huffed, but eventually gave in, asking him to fill you. He did so with one hard thrust causing you to cry out, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

He kept a quick pace. Your eyes were glazed, your core molten hot as he hit every little spot inside you that would bring you closer to release. You tried to hide it at first, hands covering your mouth but your eyes gave it away. He let you conceal yourself for all of five minutes before he had both your hands pinned above your head, his thrusts jutting at an unforgiving pace inside you. 

He was feral. THERE it was! That was the face he had wanted, the expression he had wanted to capture from you since the very beginning. Your panting, your eyes glazed over, mouth open in a silent plea, THAT'S what he wanted all along. And it was his! You were his now. The realization, the feeling of you, and the way you cried and clenched around him in release was what finally sent him over the edge. Against all odds you came together, riding out your ecstasy with sighing breaths. 

His mind was hazy with afterglow as he pulled you into his arms, large fluffy tails wrapping around your legs, arms, even one teasing at your face, a tickle. You laughed and kissed the fluff before turning over and kissing his nose, eyes bright. You were sated and happy. 

“Could we maybe, make a habit of this?”

He grinned at you. Every single feature of him was dripping with mischief when he replied.

“You think I'm satisfied with just this? There's so much more I have planned for you, you silly thing. Be prepared, got it?”

[amirasainz]

Could you please do leclerc brothers x reader, the whole family plus the girlfriends go on holidays, the brothers so excited to spend with their precious little sister but so are the girlfriends cause they adore her and the brothers and girlfriends fight over reader cause the brothers feel like the girls are taking there sister away from them?

Of course, my love. I hope you like it😘😘

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-xoxo

Leclerc summer

The Mediterranean sun shone brightly over the azure waters, casting a golden glow on the white sandy beaches of Mallorca. The Leclerc family had rented a luxurious villa overlooking the sea, a perfect getaway for everyone to unwind and spend quality time together. Charles, Lorenzo, and Arthur were particularly excited for this trip, eager to spend time with their precious little sister, Y/N. Despite their hectic schedules, they cherished every moment they could steal away for family time.

“Can you believe how beautiful this place is?” Y/N sighed as she leaned on the balcony railing, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She turned to her brothers, who stood beside her, all wearing matching grins.

“It’s amazing, but what’s even better is that we get to spend time with you,” Charles said, nudging her playfully.

Arthur, who was standing on her other side, nodded. “Yeah, it’s been way too long since we’ve all hung out like this.”

Lorenzo wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “And this time, we’re not letting anyone steal you away,” he said, half-joking, but with a hint of possessiveness that only an older brother could have.

As if on cue, the girlfriends—Charlotte, Alex, and Carla—appeared from inside the villa, each holding cocktails and looking as glamorous as ever. Charlotte was the first to spot Y/N and immediately rushed over.

“Y/N! Come see this, we’re planning a girls' spa day!” Charlotte exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a hug.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “That sounds amazing!”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “A spa day? You can do that anytime. We have plans with Y/N.”

Charlotte pouted playfully. “Oh come on, Lorenzo. We never get to spend time with her either. Right, girls?”

Alex nodded enthusiastically, her arm draped around YN’s shoulders. “We’ve been planning this for ages. Y/N deserves some pampering.”

Arthur crossed his arms, a small frown forming on his face. “Pampering? She’s pampered enough at home. We were going to take her jet skiing today.”

“But we’ll have her back by then,” Carla said, smiling sweetly. “Right, Y/N?”

Y/N looked between her brothers and the girls, feeling caught in the middle but amused by the whole situation. “I mean, I could do both, right?”

Charles was not ready to back down so easily. “We didn’t come all the way here to lose you to a spa.”

Charlotte playfully rolled her eyes. “Charles, you’re acting like we’re taking her to another planet.”

Arthur leaned in closer to Y/N, whispering dramatically, “They’re trying to take you away from us.”

Carla laughed, overhearing his comment. “Oh please, Arthur, we’re not kidnappers.”

The playful bickering continued as they all moved back inside the villa for lunch. The table was filled with fresh seafood, pasta, and all kinds of Mediterranean delicacies. But the real entertainment was the ongoing competition between the brothers and the girlfriends, each group fighting for Y/N’s attention.

As they ate, Charlotte was showing Y/N something on her phone, laughing and chatting, while the brothers shot each other looks across the table.

“Remember when we used to do family karaoke nights?” Lorenzo said, trying to steer the conversation back to their shared memories. “We should totally do that tonight.”

“Or we could all go snorkeling,” Charles added quickly, desperate to keep Y/N involved in more active family time.

Alex smiled, not wanting to be outdone. “How about we plan a sunset boat trip? Just us girls, a little break from all the testosterone.”

Y/N chuckled, putting her fork down. “Guys, there’s no need to fight. I want to spend time with everyone.”

Lorenzo sighed dramatically, though there was a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just... you’re our little sister. It’s hard to share.”

Charlotte leaned in and squeezed Y/N’s hand. “And we just love having you around, Y/N. It’s not about keeping you to ourselves. We just love you.”

Arthur, trying to regain control, suggested, “Okay, how about this: we all do one big activity together? Something fun and adventurous that everyone would enjoy.”

Y/N’s face lit up. “Yes! Let’s do something everyone can join in on. What do you guys think?”

There was a moment of silence as they all considered it, then Lorenzo nodded. “Fine. But only because you suggested it.”

After some debating, they all agreed on a zip-lining and adventure course, something that combined fun, a little adrenaline, and the chance for everyone to bond together. They piled into two cars, with Y/N strategically placed in the middle of the three brothers in one car while the girlfriends followed in the other.

The adventure park was a vibrant blend of lush greenery and high-wire courses that zigzagged between towering trees. As they got harnessed up, the competitive spirit quickly resurfaced.

“I bet I can finish the course faster than you, Arthur,” Charlotte challenged, tightening her helmet.

Arthur scoffed. “You’re on. But don’t cry when you lose.”

Alex nudged Charles. “Want to make it interesting? Whoever finishes last buys dinner tonight.”

Charles glanced at Y/N, who was laughing at everyone’s trash talk. “As long as I’m teamed with Y/N, I’m good.”

Y/N beamed, feeling the warmth of everyone’s attention. “Let’s just have fun, guys. No sore losers!”

The course was exhilarating. They swung across ropes, zipped through the trees, and balanced on tight beams, each one cheering the other on. The brothers stayed close to Y/N, offering to help her across the more challenging sections, while the girlfriends provided a constant stream of encouragement, snapping photos and laughing the entire way.

By the end of the day, everyone was breathless and sweaty, but their spirits were high. Y/N was sandwiched between her brothers, her cheeks flushed with joy.

“That was awesome!” she exclaimed, hugging Arthur, then Charles, and finally Lorenzo. “Thank you, all of you, for making this so much fun.”

Charlotte, slightly panting, smiled as she caught up. “This was the best idea. We should make this a tradition.”

“Agreed,” Alex said, giving Y/N a high-five. “You brought us all together, and that’s all that matters.”

As the sun began to set, they gathered on the beach, sitting on a large picnic blanket with a cooler full of drinks and snacks. The tension from earlier had completely dissolved, replaced by the shared laughter and warmth that only family—and those close enough to be considered family—could bring.

Charles raised his drink. “To Y/N, the heart of this family trip.”

Everyone echoed his words, glasses clinking under the fading light.

Y/N smiled, feeling incredibly loved. “To all of you. The best brothers and sisters anyone could ask for.”

And as they watched the sun dip below the horizon, they knew that this vacation, filled with laughter, a bit of bickering, and unforgettable moments, would be one for the books.

[a-lexia11]

Lost in translation

Emily fox x reader

Word count: 3,1k

Warning: a little suggestive at one point (minors DNI)

Summary: A collection of playful arguments between you and Emily about which words are more appropriate, showcasing the differences between British and American English.

Notes: At the moment, I’m really really into Emily Fox... she’s just sooooo😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 This is also inspired by those videos of Leah and Emily discussing what different things are called in British english and American english.

You never really considered how different two people could be until you started dating Emily.

The two of you, both football players for Arsenal, have been together for six months now.

Six whole months of discovering that the small nuances between British and American slang could provide endless entertainment—and confusion.

You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world; every laugh and every misunderstanding served as a reminder of how close you’d grown despite those differences.

You’d found yourselves lost in translation more than once, but each moment only deepened your connection.

——

It’s the afternoon, and you and Emily are snuggled up on the sofa in your North London flat.

You were immersed in a Netflix binge, the soft glow of the television illuminating the room as the plot thickened on screen

Just as you were getting lost in the storyline, Emily’s voice broke your focus as she got up. “Can you pause it for a moment? I’m going to grab some chips.”

You glanced up, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Chips? You’re having chips at this hour?”

Emily shot you a playful look, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Yeah, why not? I’m starving! Plus, I don’t see any rules against it!”

“Isn’t that a bit early for chips?” you asked, puzzled by her choice to have chips at four in the afternoon.

Emily narrowed her eyes dramatically, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated confusion. “Wait, do you really think I mean,like eating fries? Like French fries?”

“Well, of course! You said chips. I just assumed you meant proper chips!” you replied, chuckling at her reaction.

“No, love, I meant…” She tapped her chin theatrically, pretending to ponder the complexities of British and American cuisine.

“What do you Brits call them? Oh! Right! I’m going to get some crisps,” she said, playfully mimicking your accent with a flourish. “Crisps, like a proper Brit!”

You erupted in laughter, shaking your head at her terrible imitation of your accent. “You and your Americanisms! Honestly, it’s like you come from a completely different world!”

——

Later that week, you and Emily are snuggled up on the sofa in your apartment.

The warm, golden light from the setting sun spills through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room.

Your head rested comfortably on her chest as the two of you lay together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, savoring the peaceful quiet of the moment.

You're scrolling through your phone, casually browsing social media, when Emily's voice cuts through, her American accent drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, let's grab some takeout. I'm starving,” she says, gently rubbing your back up and down.

“Takeout?” you repeated, lifting an eyebrow as you looked up at her. “You mean takeaway?”

Emily blinked at you, her face scrunching up in that adorable way you had come to love whenever she was confused. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, love. It’s takeaway. ‘Takeout’ is what you Americans call it.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Whatever… anyway, how about we order some burgers and fries?”

“You mean burgers and chips,” you replied with a smirk.

“Okay, don’t start again” she said, feigning exasperation. “It’s fries, baby. I will die on this hill.���

You chuckled and leaned up to give her a gentle kiss on the lips. “While you’re dying on your hill of ‘fries’, I’ll be over here enjoying my lovely ‘chips’.”

She let out a soft laugh, planting a quick kiss on your lips. “I guess we’ll never agree on that, huh?”

“Not in a million years,” you replied, grinning widely.

——

A few days later, you and Emily found yourselves at a café near the Emirates after a morning training session.

Sitting outside, you soaked in the rare London sunshine while Emily sipped on an iced coffee.

You chose a traditional English breakfast tea, the warmth of the beverage contrasting with the cool breeze.

As Emily scanned the menu, her eyes lit up with excitement. “I think I’ll get a biscuit,” she declared, her enthusiasm palpable.

You nearly choked on your tea, the words catching you off guard. “A what?” you asked, bewildered.

“A biscuit!” she repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Biscuit?!” you echoed incredulously. “Love, they don’t serve biscuits here.”

Her frown deepened, clearly confused by your reaction. “What do you mean? It’s right there. Biscuits.”

You followed her finger to the menu, squinting to read the fine print. “Oh, those are scones. Not biscuits.”

Emily stared at you, completely flabbergasted. “Wait, so what are biscuits to you?”

“Biscuits are, well, they’re like…” You struggled to explain, finally settling on, “They’re sweet, crumbly things you dip in your tea. Like digestives.”

She blinked, processing your explanation. “Digestives? That’s the most unappetizing name for a snack ever.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” you replied defensively, a hint of laughter in your voice. “And a scone is more like a… pastry. You Americans don’t have those?”

“I guess we do,” Emily said, still sounding unconvinced. “Alright, ‘scones’ it is then.”

——

Another weekend rolled around, and you and Emily decided to spend the day exploring Camden Market.

The vibrant atmosphere buzzed with excitement, and as you strolled through the bustling stalls, Emily’s arm draped comfortably around your shoulders, you felt a warm sense of belonging.

“I could really go for some candy right now,” Emily said, her eyes sparkling as she spotted a nearby sweets stand.

“You mean sweets,” you corrected her playfully, earning a playful roll of her eyes.

“I mean candy,” she insisted, her American stubbornness shining through.

You chuckled, tilting your head toward a stand selling fluffy pink cotton candy. “Candy floss, at least?”

Emily laughed, shaking her head. “You mean cotton candy. You guys make everything sound so proper.”

With a teasing grin, you replied, “Doesn’t ‘floss’ sound way more fun?”

She smirked, a glimmer of affection in her eyes. “Only you could make floss sound fun.”

You both laughed as you made your way to the stand, picking out a bag of the sugary treat. With the fluffy candy in hand, you strolled through the lively market, the air filled with the scent of delicious food and sweet treats.

As you took turns stealing bites, the sugary taste melted on your tongues, sending delightful bursts of sweetness through your senses. Your fingers brushed against each other with each exchange, igniting a flutter of warmth between you.

——

One sunny afternoon, after an intense training session, you and Emily found yourselves in the bustling parking lot, surrounded by teammates packing up and heading home.

“Emily, can you open the boot, please?” you asked, casually tossing your bag over your shoulder.

“The boot?” she replied, her brow furrowing in confusion as she looked at you.

“Yes, Em, the boot,” you insisted, giving her a playful nudge.

“Baby, what the hell is the boot?” she asked, a puzzled expression crossing her face. You searched her eyes, half expecting a grin, but she looked completely serious.

“You know, the space at the back of the car where you put stuff,” you explained, gesturing toward the rear of the vehicle.

Emily huffed, crossing her arms. “That’s a trunk!” she declared, marching over to the back of the car.

You joined her, your laughter bubbling to the surface. “That’s a trunk,” you said, playfully imitating her American accent,putting your bag in the boot.

She shot you a mock glare, clearly unfazed by your teasing.

“A boot is a shoe, not a part of a car,” she countered, shutting the boot with a flourish and turning to face you.

“Whatever,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

Emily smirked and wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer as you wrapped yours around her neck.

She flashed a mischievous smirk, her eyes sparkling with playful intent. “And speaking of trunks, you definitely have some junk in the trunk!” she teased, her hand playfully finding its way to your butt, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Emily!” you exclaimed, quickly taking her hand away from your ass, a mix of surprise and laughter in your voice. “Not here!” You raised an eyebrow at her, genuinely confused. “What does that even mean?”

Emily just grinned, leaning in close to plant a soft kiss on your lips, the warmth of the moment washing over you. You couldn’t help but smile and kissed her back, the playful banter adding a sweet layer to your day.

——

One night,you stood in the kitchen, chopping onions for dinner, the sharp aroma wafting through the air. As you focused on your task, you sensed Emily’s presence behind you; she wrapped her arms around your waist, her touch warm and comforting. “What are you making, baby?” she asked, her voice soft and playful.

“Just a little something for us,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a smile. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

Her grin widened, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know, you really don’t have to go through all that trouble just to impress me. I’m already impressed just by being here with you.”

Before you could respond, Emily leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss against your neck. The warmth of her lips sent shivers down your spine, and for a moment, you lost your concentration. In that instant, the knife slipped, and a sharp sting cut through your skin.

“Ow!” you yelped, quickly pulling your hand back and cradling it instinctively. The onion rolled off the cutting board, and a small but deep cut opened on your finger, causing a few drops of blood to trickle down.

Emily’s playful demeanor vanished as she turned you around, concern flooding her features. “Oh my god! What happened?” She said in a rush, her hands hovering anxiously over your injury. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No, no, it’s fine!” you assured her, waving your other hand dismissively, though the blood continued to ooze from the cut. “I just need a plaster.”

“A what?” Emily asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“A plaster!” you repeated, trying to keep your composure as the sting from your finger intensified.

Her face fell as she glanced at your hand, now smeared with blood. “Oh! You mean a band-aid?”

“Exactly! A plaster is a band-aid!” you argued, slightly exasperated but amused by her reaction.

Emily shook her head, her initial panic giving way to a slight smile as she tried to process it all. “No, a band-aid is a brand! It’s like saying ‘Kleenex’ for tissues!”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to help the smile creeping onto your face despite the situation. “So you’re telling me I have to say ‘band-aid’ when I clearly meant ‘plaster’?”

She rolled her eyes but laughed softly. “Whatever you say, British girl, but I’m getting you a band-aid.”

As she dashed off to the bathroom, you chuckled softly, shaking your head at how even in a moment of crisis, the two of you could turn a simple mishap into a playful debate, your lighthearted banter lingering in the air.

——

You and Emily stood in the parking lot of the grocery store, the sun shining down on the bustling scene around you. You leaned against the car, a playful smirk on your lips as you watched her scroll through her phone, likely checking the grocery list for the hundredth time.

“Alright, let’s grab the trolley!” you called out, feeling a rush of excitement.

Emily paused, her head snapping up as she gave you a confused look. “The what?”

“The trolley! You know, the thing we push around the store to put our groceries in,” you explained, waving your hands animatedly.

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You mean the cart?”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “No, it’s a trolley! Are you really going to argue with me about this too?”

“Absolutely,” she replied with a smirk, stepping closer. “It’s just a cart, Y/N.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, trolley sounds much more sophisticated. Imagine if we were royalty! You wouldn’t see the Queen pushing a cart around, would you?”

Emily giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can just picture it now: Her Majesty at Tesco, pushing her trolley and loading up on biscuits. It’s all very regal.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a mock-serious whisper. “And don’t forget the scones! But wait, are they biscuits or scones?”

“Honestly, I think they’re both!” she retorted with a grin, nudging your shoulder playfully. “But let’s not confuse the grocery store staff with royal titles, okay?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Come on! It adds a bit of charm to the mundane shopping experience. Just think about how much more fun it would be.”

“Fun? In a grocery store?” she laughed. “You’re delusional. But fine, I’ll call it a trolley while we’re here.”

You pointed a finger at her, feigning seriousness. “No cart talk in front of the Queen, got it!”

“Exactly!” she replied, biting her lip to suppress a laugh. “But if anyone asks, I’m still going to call it a cart. No one can take that away from me!”

“Fair enough,” you conceded, chuckling as you reached for the car door. “But just so you know, every time you say ‘cart,’ a British person cringes.”

“Good thing I’m an American then!” Emily shot back, sticking her tongue out at you.

——

You and Emily sat on the living room floor, with you nestled between her legs, surrounded by an array of toys and vibrant blocks.

The joyful sounds of laughter filled the air as you both watched your niece, Nina, an adorable baby with sparkling wide eyes and a toothless smile, crawl around and explore her little kingdom.

The two of you were enjoying your impromptu babysitting session, exchanging glances filled with love and laughter as the baby babbled happily.

After a while, Nina’s expression shifted, and you could smell that familiar odor wafting through the air. You chuckled softly, glancing at Emily. “Looks like someone needs a nappy change.”

Emily blinked, her brows furrowing in confusion. “A what change?”

“A nappy!” you repeated, smiling at your niece as she reached for a colorful toy. “You know, a diaper!”

“Why on earth would you call it a nappy?” Emily asked, incredulous. “That sounds ridiculous!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction. “Ridiculous? It’s just what we call it over here! Nappy sounds way cuter than diaper, don’t you think?”

Emily shook her head, a playful smirk on her lips. “No way! Diaper is straightforward and to the point. Nappy just sounds… fluffy and weird.”

You stood up, scooping your niece into your arms. “Fluffy and weird?No way besides I like ‘nappy’ because it feels more affectionate.”

Emily rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I guess if you like it that much, I can live with it. But it still sounds like you’re trying to dress her for a tea party or something.”

“Hey, maybe I will! Nappies and tea parties go hand in hand,” you teased, gently bouncing your niece in your arms.

You set your niece down and knelt beside her, picking up a fresh nappy. “Alright, let’s get this little one sorted out.” You gestured to Emily. “You ready to help me with the nappy change?”

Emily approached, looking both excited and a little apprehensive. “I’m ready, but I’m still going to call it a diaper. You’re going to have to deal with that.”

With a dramatic sigh, you shook your head. “Fine, but just know that you’ll never win this argument. Nappy is superior.”

As you both got to work, the baby giggled, seemingly enjoying the chaos of the moment.

You looked down at your niece, who clapped her hands, and then back at Emily. “Maybe one day you’ll come around to ‘nappy.’”

Emily shrugged, playfully rolling her eyes again. “I doubt it, but I’m willing to humor you… for now.”

——

You and Emily lay on the bed, the dim lighting casting a warm, intimate glow around you, heightening the sense of anticipation in the air.

You straddled her, your bare torso exposed, and your lips met in a fervent kiss, tongues intertwining passionately. “I’ve wanted this all day,” you whispered breathlessly between kisses.

Her hands roamed over your chest, fondling and caressing, eliciting soft moans from you. "You feel amazing," Emily murmured, her voice husky with desire.

As the intensity grew, her hands began to trace a path down your back, sending shivers through your body. "I want to feel every inch of you," she added, her fingers exploring every curve and contour.

Pulling back slightly, you smirked down at Emily, feeling your heart race with anticipation. “Hold on, I’m going to take off my trousers,” you said, your voice sultry and playful as you leaned in closer.

Emily’s hands traveled down to your ass, squeezing it possessively as a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. “You mean your pants,” she teased, her tone light yet charged with heat.

You raised an eyebrow, a laugh escaping your lips. “Really? You’re going to debate terminology while we’re about to have sex?” you shot back, shaking your head in disbelief as you slipped off your trousers.

Emily laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she reached out for you again, pulling you back on top of her.

With a teasing grin, you captured her lips with yours, feeling the warmth of her body against yours.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the playful banter heightening the desire simmering beneath the surface.

——

While you generally accommodated the different words Emily used, like saying “apartment” instead of “flat” or “zucchini” instead of “courgette,” there was ONE term you simply couldn’t let slide.

“Baby, what do you want to watch ?” Emily asked, casually flipping through the channels with a relaxed ease, clearly in no hurry to settle down.

“I don’t know, love; you choose,” you replied from the kitchen, where you were busy finishing up making popcorn. You tossed a pop corn into your mouth just as you heard her next words.

“How about soccer?” she suggested. In that instant, you nearly choked on the popcorn, coughing violently as you struggled to catch your breath.

Emily jumped up from the couch, rushing to your side and giving you a few supportive taps on the back. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Here, baby, drink some water!” she exclaimed, quickly grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and handing it to you. You took a long gulp, desperately trying to calm your coughing fit.

As you finally managed to breathe normally again, you exclaimed, “You tried to kill me!”

“What!? I didn’t do anything; I was just sitting on the couch!” she protested, her expression a mix of concern and confusion.

“You did! You called football ‘soccer!’ Idiot!” you shot back, your eyes wide in disbelief. The look on her face only intensified your frustration.

“You almost choked to death because of that!” she cried, hands thrown up in exasperation, though you could see a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Yes! It’s called football! Not soccer!” You crossed your arms defiantly, your heart racing from both the choking and the absurdity of the argument.

Emily rolled her eyes, leaning back against the counter with a smirk. “Oh, come on! It’s just a word. Why are you so worked up?”

“Because it’s a matter of principle!” you insisted, tapping your foot for emphasis. “If you can’t respect the game, what’s next? Will you start calling basketball ‘handball?’ ”

“Okay, that’s just ridiculous,” she shot back, unable to contain her laughter. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I think not!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exaggerated frustration. “This is serious business! I might have to reconsider this whole relationship if you can’t call it football!”

Emily raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but also a little taken aback. “Are you really going to break up with me over a word?”

“Of course!” you said, pretending to think it over seriously. “If you keep calling it ‘soccer,’ how am I supposed to take you seriously? This is not just about the word; it’s about respect!”

She leaned in, her expression teasing yet sincere. “You know I respect it right? Even if I call it ‘soccer’?”

You let out a dramatic sigh, crossing your arms and turning your gaze away from her. “Calling football ‘soccer’ is just disrespectful! Honestly, maybe I need to find someone who actually knows how to call it football”

“Oh, come on!” Emily said, feigning exasperation.

You stood your ground, trying to hold back the grin that was slowly spreading across your face. “Maybe I’ll consider staying with you... if you can say it properly,” you teased, your voice light but with a hint of challenge.

“Fine! I’ll call it football,” she finally relented, rolling her eyes but smiling all the while. “Happy now?”

You turned to her with a mock-serious expression. “Very! But if I hear one more ‘soccer’ slip out of your mouth…”

She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around your waist, and looked into your eyes. “Then I’ll make the dishes, laundry, and all other chores for a whole month, how about that?”

“Hmm,” you mused, your heart racing at her playful tone. “You’d better remember that!”

With a playful smile, she pressed her lips to yours, the tension dissolving into laughter as you both sank back onto the couch, feeling grateful for every little difference that made your relationship so uniquely yours.

————

Bonus scene:

As Emily stood in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone while waiting for her plate to heat up in the microwave, you quietly approached her from behind and gave her a firm but gentle slap on the back of her head.

“Ow!” she yelped, rubbing the spot as she turned to face you, clearly confused. “What was that for?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

You gave her a pointed look. “Saying that I had a fat ass. Junk in the trunk?Really?” you asked, shaking your head in disbelief before turning to walk away.

FIN

[yurunivo]

Hello! I really love you self aware idea! Can you please make another part? This time Can you focuse more on Mavuika and the Creator!Reader (Gender Neutral),please? (Also om how the other archons and Neuvillete would be trying to search for the reader and maybe using other organizations to help the search) if not please feel free to ignore this. Have a wonderful day!

This is my first time getting a request! Hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: hanging out with Mavuika! (And the other nations' planning to reach you) part 1

TW: Mavuika and reader's relationship is implied romantic but can be read as platonic, OOC, yandere, SAGAU imposter au, bad writing, bad grammar, english is not my first language, not beta read

Characters: Mavuika x gn!creator!reader (again can be seen as romantic or platonic), yandere Archons + Neuvillette x reader

Cleaning at bars was a tedious job. It was easy, sure, but it got boring at times. Customers always made the day fun with their gossip, so you leaned into that. It could've been something simple, like how their boyfriend cheated on them, but it was still more entertaining than mopping the floor.

However, there was always one customer every night that you were looking forward to meeting.

Always clad in a mysterious cloak that made them look like a runaway, blazing bright eyes and red hair.

It was Mavuika.

She came a bit later than usual. You decided not to worry, Archon duties are a lot after all. Yet, she came anyway, dressed the same as before. The cloak was a bit messily put on, so her hair was still visible. You sighed as you left the place you were cleaning and went up in front of her.

"You didn't have to come y'know," you fixed her cloak to hide her hair, yet she only smiled at you.

"I insist," she only replied back. You rubbed your temples at the stubborn woman. Seriously, shouldn't she be busy with work or something?

She seemed to be eager to tell you something, considering how she was holding your hand. You raised an eyebrow at her as you gestured her to speak.

"Well, want to combat practice with me later, (fake name)?" Oh no. You didn't know how to fight! Sure, you did fight against the abyss, but you barely managed to survive!

But you only nodded. Declining now would only make her suspicious, even though the fact that you were being chased around without fighting back was suspicious enough. But, you'll find out a reason later, for now, all you had to do was agree.

"Sure, but only at my day off. Maybe the day after tomorrow?" You were trying to find a lie to tell her then, but for now, you hid your feelings with a smile. She nodded, looking content with your answer.

"The day after tomorrow it is."

Your hands were uncomfortably sweaty.

The day after tomorrow being right now, you had to tell Mavuika as quick as you could to not gain suspicion. Telling her you got isekai'd from another world was obviously not an option, but you had already prepared something in your head. It was similar to the isekai idea, but it's much more believable. The execution was the only problem.

You were at the outskirts of the Scions of Canopy, where Kinich lived. She came 5 minutes later and greeted you with much courtesy.

"Hope I didn't make you wait for long (fake name)," she told with a bit embarrassment. You shrugged her off.

"It's fine Mavuika, and you can just call me (name)," you replied back. You mustered up the courage to tell her your reason not to fight. But before that, you had to ask her just this one thing.

"How did you know that I was the creator? I don't think there was any part of me that stood out," you were interested to know, after all you thought that you hid yourself very well.

She all but smiled as she pointed out the grass behind you.

"The creator is connected to Teyvat, so everything would bloom in their wake. Since you were in the nation of Pyro, where I'll know everything that's going on, it was quite easy to find out." You looked behind to see beautiful flowers right behind you. You were shocked to see this many flowers in one trail. Wait, then why did the other Archons not realize that you were the creator? Eh that doesn't really matter, what matters was that you were here with Mavuika, safe and sound. But, you took this revelation to gift her something.

You took a flower from the trail. Mavuika was interested to see what you were doing, but you hid it from her. Using the flowers and leaves, you created a flower crown for her and put it a top her head. You smiled, she did too.

"Thank you (name)," she laughed softly. But now you had to explain the fighting part. You sighed as you contemplated.

"Err, Mavuika, I actually don't know how to fight.." You mumbled and cursed your self for it. She looked surprised.

"Why not?" She asked again. You felt embarrassed for having to say the reason. You took a deep breath and prepares to say why.

"I'm.. Not the creator. Like the original one. I'm a reincarnation of them, I have no idea how to fight not do I know anything about the past," you breathed out, cringing at what you just said. However all she did was look at you with understanding, after all, she knows the pain of reincarnation.

"It's fine! But do you know anything about the previous creator then?" She asked curiously, to which you shook your head. She hummed. She got an idea to improvise, it seems like.

"How about I teach you then?" Huh?! This wasn't going as planned! You didn't want to fight at all.

"T-that's not needed, I'll j-just waste your time," you tried convincing her, but she didn't budge. Eventually though, you reluctantly agreed. She smiled and thanked you for allowing her to help.

"Just try to imagine yourself using Pyro abilities, you'll get the hang of it later." You were really trying. The amount of stress that you had to not burn yourself to death was enough to actually kill you. Still, you trusted Mavuika and her abilities, so you tried anyway. You tried and tried and tried, but nothing really came. You were visibly disappointed, but Mavuika tried to encourage you.

"How about this, you imagine something you don't like, and try to use your emotions to drag your Pyro ability out," she suggested. You seemed to find this useful, so you tried it.

Closing your eyes, you thought of something terrible happening, and instead of seeing the imposter hunt that you very despised, you instead saw Mavuika.

You were being hunted down, sure, but what was most important was that she was getting punished by the Archons for not giving up the imposter. Her face was battered and bruised, and she was slowly slipping into unconsciousness. You watched in horror, and tears started to well up in your eyes. This couldn't be! Unfortunately, you were crying in real life too, and Mavuika realized immediately.

"Okay, uhh, you don't need to think about it now," she tried comforting you, bringing you in an embrace to calm you down. Once you came back to reality, your eyes were puffy, and your face was red.

"... Sorry, can we do this another time?" You sniffled, still holding her. She was warm, and you found your self drifting to sleep. She sighed as she picked you up.

"Of course, just don't overdo anything, kay?" She smiled warmly, brushing the tears from your eyes. She wrapped you in a cloak, getting ready to start camp.

Neuvillette contorted his face in disgust. The waters tasted disgustingly sweet. The creator's happiness with another person, likely an Archon. But the waters then tasted bitter, from the creator's sadness.

If only he could just drag you out of that place and keep you for himself, but no. He'll need the help of the other nations to do so, so he sucked it up and left the Palais Mermonia. He visited Furina, just checking in on her before leaving. He'd leave some of the work for Clorinde to do, he trusted her enough to do that anyway.

Reaching the imposter's throne room, there was a long sitting area where the rulers of the nations were there. Only the Cryo, Pyro and Anemo Archons weren't there, but the acting grandmaster came for Anemo, and the director of the Fatui Harbingers came for Cryo. The Geo Archon returned to his status as the God of Contracts, and the Electro and Dendro archon were sitting in their own seats. The imposter was on the creator's throne. They were dead, blood seeping out of their head. Their expression was one of shock, as he could vividly remember the day the Geo Archon killed the imposter.

A seat was vacant. He clenched his teeth at the mere thought of the Pyro Archon. He'd get you back from her, no matter what it took.

"We all know that the creator is in the nation of war, Natlan. However, since the neither of us know its weaknesses besides the Pyro Archon being a human, we need to create a plan to ambush the nation," Jean spoke up. Everyone in the room nodded along with her, too obsessed to notice their wrong doings. However, there was one who objected to this clause.

Nahida raised her hand to interrupt Jean, turning all eyes on her.

"You all chased down the creator like a rabid dog, and now you're trying to kidnap them to do a job that they don't want? What kind of leaders are you? The creator was in Natlan for a few months by now, and since they're not leaving, they are probably enjoying a better life there than your own selfish desires," she objected.

Neuvillette all but admired the young Archon. Despite being small and weaker than the others, she still had the bravery to stand against everyone. However, this was one thing that he didn't agree with. He just stayed quiet though, waiting for someone to object the small Archon.

Raiden did. The God of Eternity looked at Nahida with disdain, preparing to answer the deity.

"And how are you so sure that the creator is having a better life in Natlan Buer? For all we could know, they could actually be running around the vast nation. And, you are one of the younger Archons after all, what use does your words have?" She asked coldly. When she was about to respond back, she got interrupted.

"It is settled, we shall find the creator in Natlan, no questions," the God of Contracts added in. Nahida couldn't speak now. After all, what power does she have to a much more experienced God?

Neuvillete glared at the Archons.

"Whoever shall get the creator first will be the one to solely have the creator in their nation," Neuvillete furrowed his brows at the Archons. They did the same, but still agreed to the conditions, not really thinking of what you want.

Now, all the leaders were going back to their nation, telling their line of military to get prepared. They had to have you all for yourself, and they will do anything for it.

Done! Hope you enjoy!