#Wood hair brush benefits

[orossentials]

Why Choose a Wooden Hair Brush for Curly Hair? | Orossentials

If you have curly hair, you know the care it demands: from choosing the right shampoo to the perfect hairbrush, every decision impacts your hair’s health and beauty. One underrated hero in the curly hair care routine is the wooden hair brush. Let’s explore why this humble tool is a game-changer for curly hair, its numerous benefits, and why Orossentials offers the best wooden hair brush for your needs.#Orossentials #HairBrush #HairComb #Haircare #StylingTools #Jaipur

The Unique Needs of Curly Hair

Curly hair is prone to dryness, tangles, and frizz due to its structure. Unlike straight hair, natural oils struggle to travel down curly strands, leaving the ends thirsty for moisture. This is where a wooden hair brush with natural bristles shines, ensuring gentle care and nourishment for every curl.

Benefits of a Wooden Hair Brush for Curly Hair

Promotes Hair Growth Naturally A wooden hair brush for hair growth stimulates the scalp while distributing natural oils evenly. The smooth wooden bristles gently massage your scalp, improving blood circulation and encouraging healthy hair growth — a must for maintaining long, luscious curls.

Minimizes Frizz and Breakage Frizz and breakage are common struggles for curly-haired individuals. Unlike plastic brushes that generate static, wooden brushes reduce frizz by eliminating static electricity. This ensures your curls stay defined, smooth, and tangle-free.

Detangles Without Damage Curly hair tangles easily, making detangling a dreaded task. The best wooden hair brush offers wide-set wooden bristles that glide through your hair, detangling gently without pulling or breaking strands.

Eco-Friendly and Sustainable Choice Wooden hair brushes are a sustainable alternative to plastic ones, aligning with environmentally conscious lifestyles. Orossentials’ wooden hair brushes are crafted with high-quality, eco-friendly materials that ensure durability and sustainability.

Natural Bristles for Added Shine A wooden hair brush with natural bristles effectively distributes your scalp’s natural oils, leaving your hair shinier and healthier. This is especially important for curly hair, which craves moisture to look its best.

How to Clean Wooden Hair Brushes

Proper maintenance is key to ensuring your wooden hair brush lasts long and performs well. Here’s a simple guide:

Remove Hair Strands Use a comb or your fingers to gently remove trapped hair from the bristles.

Wash Gently Mix a mild shampoo with lukewarm water. Dip a soft cloth into the solution and wipe the bristles and handle. Avoid soaking the brush in water, as it can damage the wood.

Dry Properly Pat the brush dry with a towel and let it air dry in a well-ventilated area, bristles facing downwards.

Following these steps will keep your brush clean and hygienic while extending its lifespan.

Why Choose Orossentials’ Wooden Hair Brushes?

Orossentials offers an exclusive range of wooden hair brushes specifically designed for curly hair. Each brush is made from premium-quality wood and features natural bristles, ensuring gentle care for your hair and scalp. Whether you’re looking for a wooden hair brush for hair growth, to reduce frizz, or detangle with ease, Orossentials has the perfect solution for you.

Final Thoughts

Switching to a wooden hair brush is not just a choice for your curls but a commitment to healthier hair and a more sustainable lifestyle. The wood hair brush benefits are undeniable, from promoting hair growth to reducing frizz, making it an essential tool in every curly-haired individual’s arsenal.

Explore the wide range of Orossentials wooden hair brushes today and elevate your hair care routine with products crafted to bring out the best in your curls.

FAQs

1. Are wooden hair brushes good for all hair types? Yes, wooden hair brushes are suitable for all hair types but are especially beneficial for curly and dry hair due to their gentle and nourishing properties.

2. How often should I clean my wooden hair brush? Clean your wooden hair brush every two weeks or more frequently if you use styling products.

3. Where can I buy Orossentials’ wooden hair brushes in India? You can shop for Orossentials’ wooden hair brushes online on their website or leading e-commerce platforms.

Start your journey to healthier curls today with Orossentials’ best wooden hair brush collection!

[chilling-seavey]

In The Middle (gr63 + pg10)

↳ A/N What came over me when I wrote this?? Nothing but a dire need to want content of my two favourite men in my favourite decade tbh. Entirely self serving but I hope you enjoy ;) Would love to hear your thoughts

↳ Summary: The summer of 1985 had your time filled with two handsome men who, with each, you had a non-exclusive friends-with-benefits relationship. They were completely unaware of the other’s existence in your life but that’s what added to the thrill. Once you faced a few close calls where they almost discovered your cheeky little secret, you decided to lay all your cards on the table and see if you could have the best of both worlds on the same night

↳ Pairings: Friends with Benefits!George x Fem!Reader, Friends with Benefits!Pierrex Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 31.5k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, drinking and intoxication, smoking, MMF threesome, double penetration, anal, protected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), face fucking, male masturbation, fingering, finger sucking, spanking, spitting, face slapping, hair pulling, degradation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dumbification, nipple play, restraining, choking, edging, praise, dirty talk, overstimulation, taking pictures, subdrop.

London, 1985

“Fuck.” Pierre’s low breathless chuckle against your cheek fell warm across your flushed skin. 

Nestled in the crook of his arm amidst his tangled bed sheets, you reached a hand up to brush through the side of his frazzled hair and you pulled his lips onto yours for an off-centered kiss. With his arm around you, he gently rested his thumb against your jaw to guide you in again for more, easily parting your lips with his own to mould into sloppy tongue-led kisses. The sounds of your laboured breaths filled his warm bedroom, wrapped up together to linger on the last few seconds of your euphoria. 

“Holy shit.” you smiled out of his filthy kiss, turning your head to the ceiling straight above you and letting your hand rest on his chest, right over his rapidly beating heart. 

“Uh huh.” Pierre smirked, reaching his free hand up to rake his fingers through his hair. 

He was naked at your side and his sweaty skin was pressed right up against yours, limbs entangled in whatever twisted position you had both fallen into once you finished your usual routine of lust without love. It was textbook by then and after a few seconds to catch your breath, you were shifting under his arms and his bedsheets and sitting up. 

He easily let you get up and you traipsed across his bedroom floor to find your clothes that were scattered on various surfaces. You started to dress in the familiarity of Pierre’s poster lined bedroom, snatching your bra off his silver stereo that was sitting atop his dark wood dresser and finding your underwear on his window ledge. From his bed, Pierre watched you dress with his arms tucked behind his head and his sheets only barely covering his lap, his bottom lip captured by his teeth. His eyes followed you as you walked back and forth to find your clothes one article at a time and it brought a small smile to your face. 

“Take a picture,” you jabbed teasingly as you buttoned your jeans, “it’ll last longer.” 

“Don’t tempt me.” Pierre cocked his head in the direction of the small table beside his bed that held a Nikon camera at the ready. 

“Need I remind you of the various Polaroid pictures I have already given you?” you countered smoothly behind the fabric of your blouse as you pulled it over your head. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Pierre tisked, “You’re like my own little centerfold.” 

“Only yours,” you smiled back at him as you knelt up on the end of his bed and then crawled towards him. Then, as he held his hands out to you to guide you onto his lap, you added cheekily, “for today.”

Pierre’s mouth fell slack into a shocked and yet entirely amused gape and yet his blue eyes shone in the late night light of the city streaking in through his window, only breaking into a smile at the soft giggle that fell from your lips. His hands squeezed your hips before warning you lightly, his rich French accent stirring warmth in your stomach, “I don’t think after the way I had you screaming my name not even two minutes ago you have any right to claim that you’re not all mine, cherie.”

You just smiled down at him from your rightful spot on his lap and you pulled his face in for a few messy open mouthed kisses. After a few seconds, you pulled away from his lips and gave his cheek a little smack, “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Pierre gave your bum another slap as you climbed off his bed, “Get the fuck outta here.”

You draped your purse over your shoulder and gave him another passing smile, “I’ll call you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

And then you let yourself out of his flat and out onto the night stained streets of London. 

It was a routine you knew well since running into Pierre that one spring afternoon in the downtown shops. He was a stranger then but one who matched your banter easily and had impeccable fashion sense and you found yourselves navigating the aisles and skimming through the racks together. He spoke about his job and how he moved to London from France for a job in the motorsports industry - sending words your way that you didn’t quite understand like ‘aerodynamics’ and ‘transmission’ - and he was trying to network with any of the local Formula 1 teams. It was all quite impressive, but maybe he had been laying it on a little thick. When he had finally invited you back to his flat for drinks, you had silently anticipated how the night was going to end. 

From that night on, it seemed that your every interaction ended with the two of you in a mess of sheets and sweaty limbs, either in his bed or yours (and the odd time in the back of his car). It all just seemed to work. He made it clear right off the bat that he was by no means looking for a relationship to which you easily agreed; no-strings-attached, no emotions, and completely non-exclusive. The two of you promised to keep your sexual encounters as nothing more than the fulfilling of a natural humanistic desire. And, God, was he good at it. 

You swore no other man could make you come as hard and as many times as Pierre could. 

Well, maybe no other man except for George.

George was your prized possession you kept in your back pocket, a sworn secret, and you counted your lucky stars that somehow you had run into each other because almost every girl in England - and maybe even all over Europe - would have killed to be in your position. 

The world knew him as one-half of the infamous Williams Formula 1 team, while the tabloids - and you - knew him as someone completely separate from the sweet smiled persona that he portrayed in interviews. Headlines were often plastered with various rumours of what George got up to behind the scenes; what girl did he have under his arm tonight? Surprisingly, none of the tabloids got their claws into the existence of you yet. 

You couldn’t even remember how you met George although you were sure it was that club in the depths of London that he always liked to pop by when he could. It was some heat-of-the-moment drunken night that ended up with you taking him back to your apartment until the early hours of the morning, the entire thing a bit of a haze. Neither of you ever really spoke to it either but somehow, when the time was right and he was between race weekends, you’d end up hooking up every chance you could. Oftentimes it was at your apartment (due to him still living with his parents when back in England, regardless of his high standing in the motorsports world) or - in rare cases - the bathroom of whatever club you were attending. You were sure he had other girls in other locations every time he would end up racing somewhere around the world but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. He kept coming back to you, after all. 

The summer of 1985 claimed to be your shameless era of this rotating duo of men at your door and you managed to balance them expertly. Although both relations were without the label of being exclusive, you still enjoyed the thrill of not telling one about the other. By mid-summer, you were probably getting dick almost every second night on a consistent basis, and you never felt better about it. It was a routine that worked effortlessly for all three of you to the point where it was almost easy for you to keep Pierre and George from being aware of each other. 

Pierre would often call you up one night to invite you over as his apartment seemed to be your usual go-to. It was often once he got home from work and needed some sort of distraction from the chaos of the day. He was definitely worth the trek to the adjacent neighbourhood. Pierre never called you over two nights in a row - he never wanted to look clingy and desperate, of course - but that just made for the perfect time to seek out George at his favourite downtown club. 

George would never tire of seeing you, even unexpectedly. He lived a more spur-of-the-moment lifestyle than Pierre and that reflected into your so-called relationship. He was more of the kind to just show up at your apartment unannounced, sunglasses on in some weak attempt to hide his identity from any passersby. 

That being said, maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised to see the lanky brunette leaning against the brick wall of your building when you turned the corner that evening. He was bathed in the warmth of the street light and it cast his long shadow across the sidewalk and onto the empty road. At the sight of you, he pushed himself away from the wall and tipped his sunglasses down his nose despite the late hour it was. 

“Hey.” he said coolly. 

“Hey yourself.” you answered with a faint smile as you drifted past him to the front door of your flat. 

“Where were you?” he asked. 

“Does it matter?” you countered cheekily, stepping up onto the front stoop to have a bit of height over him and you leaned on the stone railing. 

George shrugged, “No.” 

“I was out with a friend.” you fibbed before turning it back to him, “Have you been waiting out here long?” 

Another shrug, although his passiveness was brushed aside by the way he was staring at your lips, “Not really.” 

You obviously knew his intentions for being there and especially at such a late hour but after the few months you had known George, you came to realize the fun in the game of it all. Leaning into the railing a little more, you were even closer to him, tauntingly close, and his face naturally turned towards yours. 

“Well,” you whispered, eyeing the way he licked his lips as if anticipating your kiss, “you’re gonna be waiting longer. I’m too tired tonight.”

And then you stood up straight again and stepped up another stair as George sighed heavily and slumped against the stone railing. He stared up at you with playful disappointment but it was a game you both played well - it was the thrill of the chase. You found it fun to string George along a little - the race car driver who got everybody he pointed at - whereas you could never say no to Pierre. They were so alike in a lot of ways and yet so different all in the same. 

Your little fib wasn’t entirely a lie since Pierre really did wear you out that night and you couldn’t imagine putting out your best work for the second time in a few short hours…but George didn’t need to know that detail. 

“Come on,” George tisked and pulled his sunglasses off all the way to give you that sweet blue-eyed stare under the porch light of your building, “I came all the way out here.”

“And you’re going to be going all the way back.” you whispered down to him from two steps up.

You stared at each other for a few seconds before George sighed and retreated a pace or two, fiddling with his sunglasses in his hands. He glanced at you again, giving you a once over, as he slid a hand in the front pocket of his plaid trousers under the long matching jacket. That look he gave you was the same one he used on you to get you to take him home that first night, but you weren’t budging. 

“I’ll call you.” you told him the same thing you had told Pierre, keeping your proud upper hand. “You at Tramps tomorrow night?” 

At the mention of his usual club, George smiled to the sidewalk with a small shake of his head in disbelief, his soft brown curls dancing around the nape of his neck as he did so, before he was looking back at you, “Of course.” 

“‘Kay.” you took another step up, “Then I’ll see you there.” 

He watched you reach your door before calling out, “And what am I supposed to do tonight?”

Standing in the doorway of your modest building, you replied down to him with a cheeky smile that seemed to only get you into beautiful trouble, “You have those Polaroids I gave you. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” 

And then you disappeared inside, leaving him alone on the dark London streets. 

As usual and as promised, you picked out George in the crowded club the following night, amongst the haze of cigarette smoke and chaos of drunken strangers and thudding music. Having put him off the previous night, you didn’t waste a second before bee-lining right for him in the centre of the packed dance floor with sweaty bodies moving as a singular mass. You spent the better part of three hours together there, drinking and dancing, and wasting your time at a table out of the direct noise of the music kissing rather than talking. Sure, he had a public image to withhold, but when you got your hands on each other, it was to hell with that. 

It was nearing 2am when you finally stumbled out of the club together and out onto the eerily vacant streets of Northern London. A few other venues along the main roads housed little pockets of lively nightlife but outside of the drunken crowds, the world felt eerily silent. The ringing of your ears when faced with the silence out of the hours spent in the club was familiar and the alcohol in your veins had you a giggling mess as your non-exclusive ‘date’ had you backed up against the brick wall around the side of the building. 

You had mumbled something about asking if you should go back to your place as he trailed sloppy kisses down your neck and, in the haze that surrounded you, you could barely make out his slurred reply being something along the lines of your apartment being too far. But then suddenly you were walking up the front steps of his family home at 3:00 in the morning and he was hushing your drunken giggles as he unlocked the door and pulled you inside by the hand. This was uncharted territory. 

The black and white cat sitting on the stairs in the moonlight meowed at you on your way past but you paid no mind, trying to focus all your tipsy attention on not making too much noise and waking his family. Turning left at the top of the narrow staircase, George’s room was directly ahead and he led you inside quickly before shutting his bedroom door effortlessly silently as if he had been sneaking in late like this for months. 

His childhood bedroom felt almost too small for him at twenty-five and you swore his entire room was the equivalent of a closet, barely able to fit his single bed in the corner by the window and a small dresser by the one-door closet directly in front of the entry. The motorsports posters and photographs that covered the walls were not much unlike Pierre’s bedroom too although George had the addition of a shelf of karting trophies and various framed pictures from his race wins as a boy. That being said, the way he decorated his room was the least of your concerns as, like usual, your attention was taken to each other and the urgency that came with the ridding of clothes. 

In your clumsy, drunken, hazy state, you barely remembered the way the moonlight bathed the small room as you rode him on his narrow bed. His hand was clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet as you always had a tendency to get loud and this was no longer within the privacy of your apartment. His parents were asleep in the adjacent room at that, right through the thin wall that the bed was up against. 

The riskiness of it ended up being a perfect reason for George to smother your face in his pillow as he took you from behind, his hand tangled in your hair to pin you down face first so the uncontrollable whimpers that fell from your lips were muffled by the down-filled pillow. With your arms wrapped around it tightly, you gladly let him have his way with you, unbothered and unconcerned by the faint creak of the mattress and the obvious slick slap of your sweaty skin together. The wonder of how loud you actually got would be something to be dealt with the following day. 

You never usually stayed the night with either of your two guys - it was just easier to leave quickly to avoid the hassle of any lingering feelings or small talk. But, with it being nearly 4am and in an unfamiliar part of town now, your drunken and exhausted body ended up falling asleep in seconds under George’s arm, smushed up close in his small single bed. 

Come morning, a knock at the bedroom door startled you awake and George stirred from behind you, shifting under the sheets with a sleepy sigh against your shoulder and his arm stayed heavy around your middle. 

“Time to get up, pumpkin.” a lady’s voice said from the hallway, “You don’t want to be late today!” 

George rolled away from you - only slightly to keep from falling off the narrow bed - and he directed to the door, “Yeah, Mum, I’m up.” 

“I’m making breakfast when you’re ready!”

Her receding footsteps left the hallway and headed down the stairs and you giggled softly even as George groaned faintly and pulled his arm back to rub his tired eyes. 

You teased quietly, “Morning, pumpkin.”

“Fuck off.” he swatted your shoulder in half-annoyance before asking quietly, “Why are you still here anyway?”

“You let me stay, don’t you remember?” you tisked, shuffling over to face him instead of the wall, and you tucked your hands under your cheek, “What a shit host you are.”

“Alright-” he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling at your teasing. 

“I’m such a good fuck that it got you turning domestic or something.” you shrugged. “Wanted a little snuggle last night.”

George looked over at you close at his side, “I’d kick you to the curb right now if my family weren’t awake and around.”

You knew he was just playing and so you reached over to ruffle through his messy dark brown hair, “Momma doesn’t know her perfect racer son is bringing home groupies?”

George grabbed your wrist to stop you, reminding you seriously, “You’re not a groupie.”

With a stagnant smile across your face, you just stared at him and let your hand settle down against his bare chest, “What am I then?”

He kept your eye contact for a few seconds before finally answering, “A really great friend.”

“Emphasis on really.” you chuckled. 

“Yeah,” George laughed lightly, “Such a lovely pal.” 

“Best buds.” you added. 

The two of you were still laying right up close together with how small his bed really was, legs a little intertwined and arms having no choice but to go around bodies in the limited space you had. Your hushed conversation was easier in such close proximity - especially as you could hear his father walking around in his room through the wall. You certainly didn’t want to get caught. 

“Are you back at Tramps tonight?” George asked you, as if he were already impatient to hook up again even before you left.

“I might. Will you?”

“Yeah. After Silverstone.”

“Oh, right, that’s today.”

“Yeah, and we have to be at the circuit an hour early for additional preparations. Anything to try and get a win. We haven’t won once this year yet.”

“I’m sure you will today.” you assured him easily. 

George couldn’t answer you before the footsteps coming up the stairs captured his attention and with speedy reflexes and a very strong awareness of his immediate family, he pulled the blankets right over you just as his mother came walking right in. 

“Mum, do you ever knock?” he snapped. 

She ignored him with a casual, “I just finished ironing your suit for today. I don’t want you creasing it before you have to go so please be cautious.”

“Okay.” George huffed, bunching his sheets to try to make it look like it was only him in his tiny bed as he watched her hang his plaid suit and matching trousers on the hook on the back of his door, “Thanks.”

“Who were you talking to?” she asked. 

“Myself.” he answered stiffly, “Bye.”

“Alright, alright. Hurry up, now.”

At the sound of the bedroom door closing again, George removed the sheets from over your head and you bit back your grin at him at the close call. 

But he just rolled his eyes with a huff and pressed the heels of his palms to his forehead, “I seriously need my own flat.”

George managed to sneak you out while his family was busy sitting down for breakfast in the dining room, giving you the chance to hurry down the stairs together and he ushered you right out the front door. You just managed to give him a fleeting kiss and a whispered wish of good luck before his father was calling for him from across the quaint house. Without a look back, you walked down his driveway in last night’s dress with your heels in your hand, turning the corner onto the sidewalk to head for the train station in the centre of his neighbourhood. 

It wasn’t long before you were back in your building and as soon as you unlocked your front door and stepped inside, your attention was drawn to the ringing of your phone. You hurried to shut your door and your keys and shoes were dropped on the kitchen counter on your way towards the corded phone on the wall. Snatching the receiver off the hook, you answered with a quick, “Hello?”

“Hey,” the voice replied, crackling slightly through the connection, “It’s Pierre.” 

He usually called you but this time it managed to take you by surprise, especially since it was morning and he only ever called after work. Not to mention you had just returned from George’s in last night’s dress in some sort of walk of shame, desperate to keep your secret as your second lover called so unexpectedly. The recent overlaps between your two men were getting a little too close for comfort. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked. “You don’t usually call this early.”

“I came by your place last night but you weren’t home.”

“Oh? Sorry, I was out with a friend.” you half-fibbed, resting back against your counter, “I didn’t expect you to want to see me two nights in a row.” 

Pierre chuckled softly through the phone and the warm, low sound had your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He countered your statement smoothly, “Why not?”

“It’s not your usual routine. I’d like to think I know you well enough by now.” 

“I didn’t think I had a usual routine.” 

“You do. And you never just drop by. What changed last night then?”

“Well, I was in your neighbourhood and I couldn’t stop thinking about the other night so I thought I’d try my luck and stop by and see if you were available.” 

“I see.” you smiled across your kitchen, “You were thinking about me that much?”

“Oh, come on.” Pierre laughed lightly, “Don’t be coy. You know very well that I think about you a lot. You make it very difficult to not think about you.”

You pursed your smiling lips and pressed your luck, “Well, what exactly were you thinking about?”

“Look at you; wanting the dirty details at not even eleven in the morning.” he tisked through the phone. “I don’t think I want to tell you after you basically stood me up last night.”

“Oh, please!” you laughed, “You can’t call it ‘standing you up’ when we didn’t even have plans. Should my days and nights revolve around waiting by the phone for you, Pierre Gasly?”

“Oui.” he answered cockily, the smile evident in his gentle voice, “Don’t I make it worth it?”

You sighed at the steamy memories that flashed before your eyes and the thoughts of the previous night with him lingered at the forefront of your mind too, smiling through your answer, “Yeah.”

“I can make it worth it tonight too, if you’re available.” 

“Mhm?” you turned to lean forward over the countertop on your elbows, falling into a lustful haze over what he was insinuating. But then the awareness that you had already promised George your attention that night halted your dreamy state before you could get too ahead of yourself. Your eyebrows narrowed for a moment in thought as you stared at the kitchen backsplash, debating your options, torn between two. 

Pierre spoke in your silence, “Is that a yes?” 

You played a little hard to get with him, loving the game and the chase that came along with it, “Are you not at work right now?”

“I’m alone in the lunchroom. Had to sneak away to call you…think my balls might explode if I don’t fucking see you tonight.”

“This sounds like blackmail.”

“Just the truth.” he teased, “Miss you so bad. Miss your body so bad.”

“Is that so?”

“Let me see you. I’ll make it so worth your while.”

You liked playing a little hard to get but you knew that regardless of what you said or did, by the end of it, you always managed to get what you wanted. You stayed silent for a brief moment, pondering, offering him a soft ‘hm’ in thought that had him sighing exasperatedly through the phone. The idea that rose in your mind brought a sly smile to your face and you twirled the spiraled phone cord around your fingers as you offered to him, “Did you want to come to the club with me tonight?”

“Oh- yeah, that could be fun.” Pierre answered, slightly taken aback by your suggestion to spend time with him outside of bed. 

“Yeah?” you licked away your grin, “Should we say 9:30 then? Tramps…do you know it?”

“Yeah, a few of my mates have been to that joint. They say it’s good.”

“It is.”

“I can stop by your place for 9:30 and we can head over together if you want rather than meeting there.”

The flutter in your heart was unfamiliar and you rubbed your palm across your chest to try and ease it as you answered him casually, “Sure, okay.” 

“Alright.” Pierre’s smile was obvious in his voice, “Wear something sexy.”

“Why? So you can take it off me later?”

“If you’re good.”

“Aren’t I always?”

He chuckled lowly, “See you tonight.”

You closed your eyes to try and picture his smile in your mind, him standing at the phone in the lunchroom of his job, only wanting to talk to you and no one else. There was no way you were deprived by any means and yet you still craved him so strongly from just hearing his voice and his risqué little confessions. You could never be completely satisfied for any longer than the duration of one of your nights together with either young man - you were constantly wanting more. Maybe more was what you were striving for in your fleeting spur-of-the-moment idea to invite him to the club that George was expected to be at that very same night. In a breath, you answered him softly, “See you.”

This was either your craziest or best idea yet. It was still undecided. Even as you walked down the stairs into the crowded club with Pierre at your side, a sliver of your mind was worried that this would go all wrong and you’d end up without either of them. You just had to remind yourself that both pairs of you had agreed to not be exclusive. You were doing nothing wrong. 

You passed your jackets over to the coat check clerk before following the music through the archway into the main space of the club, guided by the neon lights that were designed in swirling patterns across the ceiling. The loud music was familiar to you, rattling the worn walls of the London underground club and the floor buzzed with the motion of dancing strangers. Your hand naturally fell into Pierre’s as you weaved your way through the crowd towards the bar to get your first drinks of the night. You started with a shot each and then ordered your normal drinks - and he paid for both, even though you insisted otherwise. It wasn’t a date, after all. 

Nursing your glasses, you found yourselves an empty bar table and Pierre spoke about his work a little and the ongoing projects, keeping the talk surface level and light since you never met up for in-depth conversations. That wasn’t about to start then and there, that was for sure. Once you finished your first drinks and he returned to your table with refills for the both of you, you let your eyes skim the crowd as you sipped. 

“So how often do you come here?” Pierre asked loudly over the upbeat music, standing close to you at one of the small round standing bar tables. 

“About twice or three times a week.” you answered without looking at him, your attention too focused on skimming the dimly lit moving crowd for any sign of that long brown hair as you cuddled the cold glass in your hand. 

“How’d I not know you were such a socialite?” 

You finally looked at him and answered smoothly, “I mean usually when we’re together, not much chit chat is going on.”

Pierre chuckled faintly behind a sip of his own drink before licking his lips and agreeing, “I suppose that’s true.”

“Do you dance?” you asked. 

“Huh?” he leaned in closer to hear you over the music. 

You set a hand on his shoulder to ask again closely, “Do you dance?”

“Not well.” he replied. 

“Me neither.” you laughed before setting your glass down in exchange for a grasp of his arm, “Come on.”

Pierre put his drink on your table alongside yours and let you pull him into the chaos of the dancefloor. You were familiar with some basic moves but it wasn’t very difficult to just let the music move you. No one cared how ridiculous you might have looked - they were all too drunk to care anyway. So you held Pierre’s hands and you shared a small part of the dancefloor together, moving and grooving to the upbeat funky songs. 

You spun around together, almost tripping over each other with what unskilled dancers you were, but it was a mess of enjoyable glee and as Pierre tugged you closer by your waist, you let yourself fall into him. Your arms slung around his shoulders and his hands greedily rubbed down your waist and over your ass, ignorant to the strangers pressed up around you as your lips were drawn together without second thought. Still swaying to the music together - more than lucky you weren’t stepping on each other’s toes in the process - you made out filthily in the middle of the sweaty and crowded club. 

Bumping and dancing strangers knocked into you but you weren’t fazed, tangling your fingers in the back of his hair to pull him closer to taste more of his tongue in your mouth and the light scruff of his facial hair against your cheeks. He held you against his chest in a familiar embrace - a practiced dance of your own - and you felt the faint vibration of his moan into your kiss behind the rhythm of the music that surrounded you. You sucked on his tongue with insistent desire between sloppy kisses, hands all over bodies among sweaty strangers and, for a moment, you forgot that you were waiting on George to arrive.

“Putain,” Pierre swore as he broke away from your kiss with a tilt of his head and a heavy sigh, “I wanna take you home already.”

You giggled and leaned in to kiss him some more, sharing a few more impolite open mouthed kisses before pulling away again to answer him, hands sliding down his chest, “We just got here though. We don’t want to leave just yet.”

Pierre stared at you down the bridge of his nose, pressed up close to you in the middle of the crowded dancefloor, and his expression was shadowed by the horrible club lighting and the dancing streaks of neon light that rained down from the ceiling, but you could read the desire on his face so easily. His hands slid up your waist and down your forearms, licking away the taste of you from his lips as he pitched, “Wanna go to the bathroom?”

“No.” you answered, “I want to make you wait for it.”

Pierre laughed humorlessly, “You are unbelievable.” 

You soon found yourselves back with your drinks and migrated to a table with chairs to rest your feet after your attempt at dancing. Your legs were tossed over Pierre’s lap, draped down between his thighs, and his hand rested on your thigh almost too high up in your public setting. If you were any other girl, he’d be way past annoyed at your stringing him along and he would have long since left by now - but you were no other girl. You always made his patience worth it. 

Although your attention was focused on Pierre, you couldn’t help but glance across the crowd every now and then, silently awaiting your second guest. But it turns out Pierre was unexpectedly ahead of you at that. 

“That guy keeps looking over at us.” he nodded his head towards the bar. 

You turned your head in the direction of the bar, looking through the less dense section of the crowd on the margins of the club, only to land your eyes on the lanky brunette leaning against the bar top on his elbow. He was in a white button up and those plaid suit pants that his mother ironed for him that morning, his gaze unwavering in your direction. 

Clueless Pierre spoke again, “Oh, no way. I think that’s one of the guys from the Williams team.”

You played coy, “You think?”

“Yeah. I know what the drivers look like. I swear that’s him.”

You didn’t answer his rambles or acknowledge the way his thumb rubbed along your thigh, too busy making eyes at George across the club, your teeth sunken into your bottom lip to try and hide your forming grin. 

Pierre kept going, snapping his fingers on his other hand, “Not Rosberg…what’s the other guy’s name?”

“Russell.” you answered without thinking. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.” Pierre nodded without taking his eyes off the man in the corner of the club, “I swear he’s staring at us.”

This was your perfect segue, “Want to meet him?”

Before Pierre could ask, you were already standing up and grabbing his hand to pull him to his feet after you. He tried to protest but his words were whisked away by the noise of the music and the crowd and you dragged him along the outskirts of the dancefloor to finally fall to a stop at the bar. George’s eyes followed you shamelessly, his flat expression unreadable, and he eyed you up and down once you stood beside him. 

He was resting on his right arm on the bar, his left hand housing his drink, and you stood in front of him with Pierre just a step behind you. You couldn’t help but feel like you were nearly buzzing from a strange mix of nervousness and excitement and as George lifted his drink to his lips to sip, waiting for you to speak first, Pierre shifted in place. 

“Hey.” you greeted coolly. 

“Hello.” George replied with a slight cock to his head, “Who’s this?”

Pierre sensed the slight tension from the moment you approached the young man at the bar and he stayed a step behind you as if shielded by your confidence. But you were unfazed as you turned slightly so your back was facing the bar and you could easily look between them, “George, this is Pierre. Pierre, George.”

Like professionals, they reached out to shake hands briefly before George was speaking more to you than anyone, “You know, when you asked me if I was coming tonight, I figured it was because you wanted to see me.”

You rested your elbows behind you on the bar top, “I am seeing you now, am I not?”

George’s eyes flicked away from your face to look at Pierre, “I suppose.”

Pierre’s expression furrowed for a moment as he processed the strange encounter going on amongst you three and, if nothing else, the way George stared at you was somewhat of a dead giveaway. He looked at you too and you glanced between them innocently, waiting for one of them to talk first. 

Pierre took the initiative, “So, how do you know each other?”

“We met here, actually.” George answered for you, speaking loudly over the music of the club, “Few months ago.”

Pierre nodded and lifted his drink to sip from. 

“And you?” George asked. 

“At the market a few weeks back…got talking…” Pierre drifted his gaze to you again as he pushed the boundaries around this stranger with a small sly smile, “then there wasn’t much talking going on after that.”

You gave his arm a playful swat, unaware of the way George’s eyebrows raised at the comment behind a long sip of his drink. 

“So you’re sleeping together?” he asked bluntly, setting his empty glass on the bar. 

“Yeah.” Pierre answered, almost protectively. 

George’s gaze snapped right to you at that answer, expression almost offended and completely surprised. 

You merely giggled and lolled your head to the side as you stared back at him, “What’s with the dagger eyes, George? Come on…not like I’m the only girl you’re seeing.”

Pierre’s head turned quickly to you as well, “You’re sleeping with him too?” 

“Yeah, so what?” you looked at him, “We said we’re not exclusive.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Pierre shifted in place, his words fading out.

The guys looked at each other at the same time and you glanced between them and their unreadable flat expressions under the neon stained shadows of the loud club. They stood on either side of you, George a few inches taller than his counterpart, both just as equally close to you, and it almost felt surreal being with them at the same time. Your heart was racing in your chest and nothing had even happened. 

“Who else?” George finally broke your silence amidst the noise. 

“Just you two.” you shrugged innocently, laughing faintly, “I’m not that much of a slut…damn.”

“And you asked us both to come here to meet you for what reason exactly?” Pierre questioned, leaning his left arm on the bar beside you, head cocked to the side expectantly. 

You licked away your grin and looked away from the both of them to face forward towards the dancefloor almost shyly, not quite wanting to speak your idea out loud. So instead, you shrugged, and scuffed the toe of your shoe on the concrete floor despite your smile, George’s black loafers on your left and Pierre’s black sneakers on your right. But with you not looking at them, the guys shared sly glances and knowing smirks at what your shy silence was insinuating. 

Pierre’s hand on your face startled you slightly and he took your cheeks in his hand to pull your face in his direction so you could look at him, and he ordered you seriously, “Say it, cherie.”

George stepped closer at your side and brushed your hair over your shoulder before dragging his finger down your neck to raise shivers across your skin in his wake, “We’re listening. What do you want?”

You shifted in place, biting your bottom lip as you stared into Pierre’s eyes under his hand, confessing behind the thudding music of the club, “I wanted to take you both home tonight.”

“To do what?” George pressed. 

Pierre’s grip loosened on your cheeks so you could look at George instead as you answered him, “So you can fuck me.”

“This was your whole game, huh?” Pierre taunted, “Luring us here just to corner us into a fucking three-way?”

“Do you not want that?” you looked back at him. “Because I can just take George here home instead.”

Pierre frowned and responded quickly, “No, no. Don’t do that. This could be…fun. And I’m not passing up my opportunity for a night with you.”

You turned to George, “And you?”

“Yeah, what the hell.” he shrugged with a smirk, “Haven’t done this kinda thing since Monte Carlo in ‘83. About time I give it another go…and with the loveliest girl in London at that.”

“No need to butter me up, George. I’m already set on taking you home tonight.” you chuckled. 

George was always one who knew what he wanted and who got what he wanted, so he didn’t even hesitate before grabbing your chin in his hand to pull your lips on his. He had been waiting for it all day, after all, and your teasing was only making him that much more impatient. Not to mention seeing you nestled up with another man only to find out it was all a part of some sick little fantasy of yours. Who could blame him for not being able to keep his hands off you for a second longer? 

Pierre shifted at your other side, looking away from your kiss at first to scan the crowded dance floor instead behind a sip of his drink, but then he was looking back at the two of you, figuring he was going to be seeing a lot more as the night progressed. So he let himself watch for a moment under the flashing neon lights of the club, eyes lingering on the hint of another man’s tongue helping itself to your mouth and the way your fingers tangled in the soft waves around the nape of his neck, pulling him into you. Then, Pierre was nudging your arm, urging you away from your kiss.

“Come on,” Pierre tossed back the last of his drink before setting the glass on the bar top, “let’s get our jackets and get the fuck outta here.”

“Meet you on the street.” George said, letting you slip out of his grasp, “Just gotta find my mates and tell them I’m leaving.”

George disappeared into the crowd to find his other driver friends whom he had come with while Pierre led you by the hand to the coat check. He stood almost protectively at your side, much closer than was even required in the tightly packed club, and when the attendant passed you your jackets, Pierre helped you drape yours over your shoulders. The refreshing nighttime air of downtown London filled your lungs as you stepped out onto the sidewalk and Pierre moved towards the curb to call a cab. Although it was still summer, the evenings had a tendency to get a little chilly and you were thankful for your jacket as you waited for your taxi and the third member of your little group. 

Even without the thudding of the loud club music, your heart was still pounding against your ribcage, in near disbelief that your plan was headed into full swing. One look at either of them and you were burning with desire, already way ahead of yourself. In the privacy of the darkened city street, any passersby too drunk or distracted to pay any mind, you slid a hand down over the front of your skirt to press against your aching cunt. 

A figure sauntered up beside you and you didn’t need to look to know it was George. He eyed you for a second before speaking, “Haven’t even left the premises and you’re already touching yourself. Haven’t even laid a hand on you yet and you’re already touching yourself.”

You took your hand back to fold your arms across your chest, glancing over at him playfully, “Shut up.”

His finger was hooked in the back of his jacket that was tossed over his shoulder, looking so casually suave as the nighttime breeze ruffled through his brunette waves. He stared at you right back, big blue eyes hazy in the neon light of the club’s exterior signage above you, and you looked away first just as the taxi pulled up to the curb. 

“Merde. Finally.” Pierre yanked open the back door and gestured the two of you over, “Come on.”

George walked around the opposite side as you climbed into the middle seat, forcing you to be sandwiched between the two men as Pierre got in behind you. The two rear doors were closed, sealing you all in, and you leaned forward to tell the driver your address. When the driver pulled away from the curb and you settled back in your spot, both Pierre and George were looking at you. You couldn’t deny the sly little grin that was inching across your face and although it was exactly what you wanted, to be squished in the back of a cab with the two of them together, you couldn’t help but feel a little shy. 

Pierre set his hand on your thigh, just above your knee, and he teased at the hem of your skirt with his fingertips, “Cat got your tongue now, cherie?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet.” George added from your other side, trailing his index finger down the length of your arm. 

You were so attuned to the both of them there and everything felt warm. Your hands were folded on your lap but you slowly unclasped them to set one on George’s leg and then one on Pierre’s, not straying much farther than just above their knees as you answered them softly, “I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” George pressed, his blue eyes nearly analysing your profile expressionlessly, and his finger reached up to ghost over your jawline. 

Your hands slid a little farther up their legs and Pierre’s other hand wrapped around your wrist to caress your forearm as you answered, “Tonight. What we’re gonna do.”

“Whatever you want to do.” Pierre replied coolly. 

“Where’s the fun in me telling you what to do?” you countered in a fit of bravery, glancing over at him with a smile you tried to bite back. 

Pierre’s eyes flicked past you to exchange a silent glance with George and then you, too, looked at George. 

“You both know my limits.” you continued quietly, trying to not be overheard by the taxi driver as you glanced between them again, “And I can always say stop.” 

“You really just want us to have our way with you, don’t you?” George’s eyebrows raised in amusement. 

“Fucking slut.” Pierre added from your other side. 

You licked away your grin as you face forward again, staring straight out the windshield at the passing streetlight stained blocks of London that passed you by. Your hands gave their thighs a little squeeze but didn’t spare them another glance. In your peripherals, you could see the way the two of them looked at each other across you as if sharing silent conversation and then suddenly, their conversation was verbal. 

“Is she always this easy for you?” George asked him like you weren’t even there, despite the way his fingertips danced across your knee and teased under the hem of your skirt. 

“Usually.” Pierre answered almost proudly, “You seem surprised.”

“She tends to make me work for it a little more. She just loves the chase. Plays coy.”

“Kinda like now…wanting to see just what we’ll do to her despite all the ways she has probably already imagined this?”

“Mhm,” George’s hand slid farther along the inside of your thigh although you kept your knees tightly together, “A plan like this certainly doesn’t come to fruition in only an evening.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you kept your stare straight ahead, playing clueless to the way they talked about you, got acquainted, and the way they caressed your thighs and slowly inched up your skirt just enough to tease you. 

George finished his statement, “She’s definitely been thinking about it for a while.”

Pierre’s hand helped itself up your skirt, his slender fingers sliding between your legs to knead at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, tainted by the warmth of your body and the lust that grew within you as he spoke lowly, “Looks like she’s finally getting what she wants.”

You couldn’t help but look down towards your lap to get a glimpse at how their hands disappeared up your skirt. They weren’t doing much as of yet but their warm, purposeful caresses of your thigh had you burning for them more and more, feeling like if they didn’t touch you soon you might have been sick from the anticipation. So you parted your knees slightly, just enough to give them the hint that you were theirs to touch if they saw fit; that it was exactly what you wanted. 

Although they noticed your move, they didn’t give into you right away. Pierre’s warm chuckle from your right had you licking your lips as you stared at their hands in your lap and he spoke across you to George, “I think she wants more.”

You couldn’t help the playful “shh” you habitually replied with, shifting in place under their hands. 

“She’s already squirming for it.” George added, his eyes focused on your face. 

They spoke quietly so as to not be heard by the driver, sharing whispers past you back and forth as their hands caressed your thighs and his fingers teased your most sensitive spots without giving into your lustful desires completely. George leaned in and left a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw, so gentle that you could feel yourself throb up your skirt, and you shifted again to try and lessen the ache that grew inside you. He kissed you again a little farther down your neck as his palm rubbed down your thigh to your knee and right back up before giving your flesh a tender squeeze. 

Pierre leaned in on your otherside, leading with his tongue right up the side of your neck to the sensitive spot just below your ear. The shiver that it caused had the both of them breaking into sly smirks that you could feel against your skin. A few more kisses from the both of them and you were arching against the leather seat of the taxi with a soft huff to try and shift away from their ghostly touches, closing your legs again tightly as your fingers grasped at the fabric of their pants on either side of you.

“She can barely handle this.” Pierre chuckled lowly.

“Look at her.” George tisked from your other side, “Can hardly contain herself.”

“I can’t wait to see how she looks when we both get inside her at the same time.” 

Pierre’s blunt statement had you biting your lip harder, attention darting over to him. He was sitting so closely at your side that when you turned your head to look at him, your noses were almost touching and you could feel his breath. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. The world felt like an alcohol-induced crazy dream.

“Is that what you want?” George asked from your other side, drawing your gaze over to him on your other side, “You want us both inside you? Is that why you cornered us out here?”

You nodded.

“Say it. Say that you want us both inside you at the same time.”

You couldn’t speak for a moment with how stunned you were, dumbly staring at him like a deer in headlights. George’s hand lifted from your lap to wrap around your throat, his lips only millimetres away from yours, capturing you in place. 

“We’re not going to do what you want if you don’t obey us.” Pierre told you sternly from your other side. 

Pierre spoke so closely but your gaze was locked on George’s big blue eyes, held in place by his hand around your throat, and you licked your lips faintly just as the taxi pulled up outside your apartment building, in perfect time for you to answer them in a hushed whisper, “I want you both inside me.”

Pierre’s hand slid further up your inner thigh and he gave you a proud squeeze, “Good girl.”

You followed Pierre out of the taxi as George tossed a few bills at the driver for payment before he was following quickly after the both of you. You waited for him at the steps of your building, making sure both of them were within arm’s reach before you were letting yourself into the elevator lobby bathed in the fluorescent flickering light across the ceiling. 

Waiting for the elevator was near torturous as you three knew that you must remain composed while still in such a public setting regardless of the fact that there was no one around at such a late hour. Regardless, you were all too attuned to the feeling of them standing so close on either side of you as if they were guarding you, claiming some sort of protection over you, and your insides stirred with imagination of what was waiting for you once you got upstairs. 

Even in the elevator, the tension was cramped amongst you in the tight space. You could feel the heat of their bodies against yours, the fabric of their clothes, and their fingers trailed over your hips, your arms, your neck, as if testing the waters of where they were wanting to touch you. It was shiver worthy, addicting, making your heart thud against your ribcage in lustful anticipation. 

The key was nearly trembling in your hand as you unlocked your apartment door, so aware of the two men standing beside you that you almost forgot how to properly function. All you wanted was them as if it was your only reason for living at that moment. The door couldn’t close behind the three of you fast enough. 

Your darkened apartment was lit only by the street lights streaking in through your living room window, leaving the three of you amongst shadows as you nearly tripped over each other farther into the apartment. Your purse was dropped aimlessly on the kitchen counter with your body facing the both of them as they moved in towards you like you were prey. As your back hit the edge of the counter, you were trapped between it and them and your hands naturally reached out to grab onto the front of their shirts to guide them closer, nearly sharing breaths through slightly parted lips as your gaze flicked between them. 

You had this whole idea for how you were going to get them in the same vicinity but it was apparent that was as far as you got within your planning. What the hell were you supposed to do now? Who was going to make the first move? As much as you loved feeling both of them so close to you, you were completely unaware as to what your next step was. This was entirely new uncharted territory. 

“God, look at you,” Pierre’s hand raised to the side of your face and the pad of his thumb ghosted across your parted lips, “you’re so fucking clueless.”

George took his jacket from where he was holding it over his shoulder still and he dropped it onto the counter beside you as he spoke, “Dumb little girl couldn’t even fully develop her plan before diving right in.”

They knew you too well. They could both read you like a fucking book. It was obvious that you could hold no secrets with either of them and this was only the living proof. Habitually, affected by the control they so easily held over you, you tugged at the front of their shirts a little harder, forcing them a half step closer towards you until you were completely sandwiched back against the edge of the counter. Everyone was so close together and you only had to turn your head a microscopic amount to look between them, feeling their breaths on your face and their eyes drinking you up in your darkened apartment. 

Pierre, George, Pierre, George, Pierre, George- How were you supposed to choose who got the first ounce of your attention? 

Pierre, with his hand still holding your face, took that responsibility himself as he grew tired of the lingering tension and pulled your lips on his. You melted into him so easily, eyebrows furrowing a moment as you fell into his familiar kiss, and right away he was parting your lips with his own to introduce a hint of tongue. You let go of the front of his shirt to grab the back of his neck instead to make him kiss you harder while still keeping George’s nicely ironed shirt under your insistent grip. 

Without the distraction of his jacket anymore, George’s hands were focused only on you, sliding up your sides of your perfectly tailored dress as he watched you kiss another man right in front of him. Your fingers twisted in the soft fabric of his shirt and when you broke away from Pierre for a moment, your head was naturally turning towards George instead and he moved with you without instruction, taking your lips with his effortlessly. 

Pierre’s hand moved from your face to the back of your neck as if guiding you into kissing another man. His eyes analysed your every slight motion and was attuned to even the faintest little moan you let slip into George’s mouth when his tongue met yours. Your apartment was a silent harmony of your shared heavy breaths and deepening wet kisses, accentuated only by the sound of faint brushes of hands over clothes. So innocent, so tempting. 

Pierre was always the bossier of the two as you had come to realize over the months of sharing late nights with each of them so he didn’t hesitate to grab your chin and force you away from George when he was ready for a turn of his own. You barely had a second to lick away the cocky smile on your face before he was shoving his tongue in your mouth and shutting you up with his lips. Your arm tossed around his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer while your other hand let go of George’s shirt to wrap around his waist instead, urging him towards you some more as well. 

George’s full lips dusted over the shell of your ear just enough to send shivers down your spine at his ghostly touch and warm breath before he was nipping at your earlobe and then leaving a slow open mouthed kiss to your neck, all while Pierre was still kissing you. Your legs nearly gave out from under you, already feeling yourself soaking through your panties under your dress, unable to hide the hungry moan that tumbled from your lips and against Pierre’s own. You burned for the both of them, feeling as though the temperature in your apartment was that of the summer heat, and your dress suddenly felt extremely suffocating. 

“I need-” you were barely able to get the sentence out as the moment you separated from Pierre, George was pulling your lips on his impatiently. You gladly kissed him back for a few seconds before your hands were blindly drifting to the front of their shirts again and you pushed them both an arms length away from you. You were already breathless and flushed, way past the point of horny, and you licked your lips before trying your statement again, “I need to get out of this goddamn dress right now.” 

George cocked his head in the direction of your bedroom, “Come on then.”

You followed behind them as they both turned for your bedroom, the three of you crossing your moonkissed hardwood floors towards the partially open door opposite the small kitchen. The two men only stopped when they both tried to go through the opening first. Stopping, they looked at each other flatly for a split second. You didn’t have a split second to waste as you pushed right past them and grabbed their wrists on your way to fully yank them through the doorway together and into your familiar bedroom. 

Once inside, you grabbed the first one you turned to when you rotated 180° to face them which happened to be Pierre. As you walked backwards farther into the room, your hand found the back of his neck and his hands went to your waist, pulling you right up against his body as you breathed into each other’s open mouths, lingering on that anticipation before the kiss. His lips ghosted across yours, taunting you, before finally capturing your bottom one between his two in a pornographic kiss. 

George followed after you as he hurried to unbutton his white collared shirt, his attention more focused on you than his buttons as his fingers stumbled over each one. Your arms tossed around Pierre’s shoulders as your body arched into his, lips meeting and parting messily while his fingertips pressed into your hips over the fabric of your dress. After a few seconds you were reaching a hand out towards George and he let you lead him closer to join, gladly accepting your kiss as you broke away from Pierre again. You kept an arm around the both of them - making sure the space between you was as limited as possible - and George’s hand drifted down your waist to grab a handful of your ass. Your fingertips teased at the popped collar of his open shirt before trailing down his exposed chest blindly, your attention taken up by his lips and tongue as you purposefully pushed the fabric off his shoulders and he let it drop to the ground. 

Pierre drifted at your side to stand behind you instead and his hands draped your hair over your shoulder so he could reach the top of the zipper on your dress. He gently pulled at it while his lips gravitated to your neck, feeling the shivers rise across your skin under his slow sensual kisses. You moved with him to help him slide your unzipped dress down your arms and to your waist while you were still hung up on George’s heavenly lips. Pierre took his time undressing you, letting his hands explore your familiar body while he kissed your neck and shoulder, groping your breasts over your bra or squeezing the flesh of your hips - he always knew just where to touch. But it was George who took the initiative to grab the fabric of your dress that was stuck around your waist and he pushed it farther down to let it fall to the floor where it pooled around your ankles. 

“Let’s get you out of this.” Pierre’s voice against the shell of your ear rose shivers down your arms as his experienced fingers unclasped your bra effortlessly and you moved with him to let it fall from your arms and onto the floor with your dress. 

Then, in a smooth motion, you were pulling your lips away from George to tilt your head back over your shoulder to get more of Pierre, moaning softly into his mouth as he kissed you again. His hand slid up around your throat, holding you in place, taking what he wanted from your lips and tongue for a few seconds before he, too, was breaking away from you so he could pull off his own shirt. The pile of clothes on the floor seemed to grow larger by the second but that was the least of your concerns as your attention was too captivated by the two brunettes on either side of you. Your hands trailed down each of their bare chests, feeling their familiar warm skin and slender bodies that truly felt like they were all yours and only yours to touch. 

Pierre’s fingers ghosted up your waist and he pinched one of your nipples as he spoke lowly to the room, his accent thick against your ear, “I think our pretty little slut should get on her knees for us.”

Our. For us. You could have absolutely swooned. Maybe the giddy little smile that came to your face was a reaction enough, regardless of how you tried to bite it back, keeping your eyes downcast as your hands rested greedily against their chests. 

“All shy now, are you?” George’s hand rested under your chin to tilt your head up, forcing your bashful gaze to focus on them. “Such an indecorous little girl at the club…now look at her.”

“Can’t even look at us.” Pierre tisked. 

George’s hand shifted to grab your cheeks, “Her face is so flushed. Bet she’s absolutely soaked for us already.”

You couldn’t help the soft whimper that involuntarily slipped from your lips, making the two young men smirk proudly. 

“Yeah?” George taunted, gently smacking his hand against your cheek once, “We haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already a whiny mess.”

Pierre took a half step closer and his fingers tangled in the back of your hair, giving your head a tug backwards just to prove they were in control before he spoke right against your cheek, “Just wait until we’re fucking finished with you.”

You could barely get out a breathy, “Please.”

“Come on then,” George coaxed, “on your knees.”

Never being one to say no to either of them - and certainly not when they were both looking at you like they were going to fucking devour you - you sank obediently to your knees amongst the mess of discarded clothes on the floor. The sound and sight of them unbuckling their belts simultaneously in your face was like angels singing and you clamped your thighs together tighter to smother the ache that radiated within you. You were so terribly impatient, hands reaching up to help guide their pants down as if they weren’t undressing fast enough.

The high-end fabric of George’s plaid slacks felt soft under your one hand and your other tugged at the rough denim of Pierre’s jeans at your other side until they were both stepping out of their pants. With the three of you left in only your underwear, your attention was narrowed in on only the two young men in front of you, feeling the way your stomach churned with near excitement and you were biting your lip until it was almost raw. 

Despite the way words had seemed to abandon you at that point in the night, your shyness certainly didn’t apply to your sense of touch as your hands slid up their thighs greedily. Two perfect men standing tall before you with your invitation to touch them however you pleased, grazing your dainty fingers over their hairy thighs and finally over the front of their boxers. It was nothing you hadn’t done before, hadn’t seen before, hadn’t risked before, allowing you to feel no hesitation as you felt them up over the thin fabric that separated your palm from arguably your favourite parts of them. 

Over the summer, you had been subconsciously comparing them to each other and as you swapped between them almost nightly, it was easy to start to find what was unique for each of them - in what they liked and how they looked and how they reacted to your touch. You weren’t surprised that they were both already incredibly hard, allowing your fingers to attempt to wrap around the shape of both of them through the fabric of their underwear, eyes shifting back and forth between them like a kid on Christmas morning. Oh, who to unwrap first?

Thankfully, they took that indecision into their own hands as they both shared some sort of silent agreement to drop their final piece of clothing at the same time, revealing themselves to you proudly. You truly and honestly grinned, entirely blessed to have two hands to touch both of them at the same time, habitually licking your lips as your eyes darted between their two perfectly beautiful cocks held so tenderly in your hands. You swore you were the luckiest girl in the damn world. 

Yes, it was nothing you hadn’t seen before, however seeing them both at the same time right in front of you was absolutely thrilling. George was overall bigger and you knew that subconsciously from your summer escapades between the two but Pierre had a length to him that was unmissable. With a hand still around each of them, you leaned in towards George to give him a teasing lap of your tongue along the underside of the tip, urging his hand to fall naturally into your hair as you leaned in again for another lingering lick. But then you were turning to Pierre, just having to turn your head a bit and he, too, was right in your face. 

Your tongue dragged right up the underside of his thick cock and then swirled around the tip, eyes staring up at him to gauge his reaction to your teasing touches. The lick of his lips was indication enough and when you pulled back from him, you pursed your lips to let a plentiful drop of spit fall onto the head of his cock. Your hand that was still around the base slid up to slick your palm in spit so you could glide easier around the soft warm shaft. Then you turned to George and did the same to him, allowing both of your hands to stroke them at the same time as your eyes drifted back and forth between them. 

After a few seconds, you were moving back in to take the head of George’s cock in your mouth and you sucked on it lazily, letting your hand around him do most of the work. Then you pulled away to turn back to Pierre and give him that same treatment of hand and mouth for a few moments. When you pulled back from him, you sat back on your heels for a moment with a spitty grin on your face, watching your hands around each of them at the same time, all yours to do with as you pleased. 

“This is incredible.” you breathed. 

You had thought you said it in your head but the low, warm chuckles that came from the two men in front of you gave clear indication that you truly said it out loud. You weren’t embarrassed as they had both heard much worse things come out of your mouth since you began seeing each of them and, instead, you shuffled closed on your knees and let your mouth wrap around George’s dick again. 

Leading with your tongue, you kept your jaw slack to keep your teeth out of the way, only going down about half the length as your hand tended to the rest. In steady time, you bobbed your head along with the pace of the strokes of your hand, caressing him with tongue and cheek. You moaned around him softly, eyes blinking up at him with your mouth full of dick, and with his big blue eyes staring down at you in return, his hand slid into the back of your hair again.

“Suck it harder.” he ordered. 

You never wanted to disappoint either of them so you did as told, hollowing your cheeks on each up stroke to really suck on him snugly in your mouth as you pulled back. Your hands kept matching paces on the both of them, even if your attention wasn’t directly on Pierre at the present moment - he was definitely watching, however. George, selfishly, really started to try and pull you deeper on him until you were sitting back, letting his dick fall from your mouth with a wet pop. 

Pierre grabbed your cheeks and pulled your head towards him, setting his other hand over yours around his cock so he could tap it against your spitty lips and make you open up. You stuck out your tongue and he slapped the head of his dick against it a few times before you took the initiative to sink your mouth down on him yourself. His groan was heavenly and you had you stretch your jaw a little more to fit him comfortably in your mouth without the interruption of teeth but he seemed to be appreciative of your efforts. 

“Good girl.” Pierre praised lowly, still holding the base of his cock even as you took him in your hand and mouth and he watched you intently, very aware of your other hand still tending to George right beside him, “This what you wanted? Just wanted to take two dicks like a greedy little slut?”

You could only reply with a muffled “mhm”. 

When you pulled off of him a few seconds later with a lewd pop, you gave George a purposeful tug to silently urge him a half step closer and you rewarded him with a wet kiss and a little suck. But then you were glancing back at Pierre who was only millimetres away and you tugged him a little bit closer too so you could guide both of them into your mouth at the same time. The both of them nearly choked over their breath in surprise, staring down at you with stormy eyes of the sea, shoved up together in your mouth. Logically, you couldn’t fit more than the tips in since the angle was naturally a little tricky but you worked them with your tongue and those sweet moans of yours to really make it worthwhile. Half of the time it was all about the show. 

“Putain.” Pierre groaned, pushing his fingers through your bangs to get your hair out of your face and he grasped the back of your head. 

“Fucking cockslut.” George said through his teeth as he grabbed a handful of your hair at the nape of your neck.

With both of them holding your head, you were forced in place but not like you would ever want to stop anyway. Your hands stayed wrapped around the base of each of their dicks, keeping them in your mouth, letting you slobber all over them until your spit was dripping onto the floor and your messy pile of clothes you were knelt on. 

The lust was too strong for them to care that they were touching each other, too spurred on by the sight and sound of you on your knees for them and taking two dicks in your mouth at the same time. Your tongue dragged between both of them back and forth across the sensitive spots under the smooth heads, earning their fingers to grip harder at your hair. When you pulled off them to try and breathe for a split second, your eyes nearly shone at the sight of them standing stiff in front of your face, glistening in spit, and you dipped down to drag your flat tongue right up the underside of the both of them simultaneously. 

After the stretch on your jaw from taking the two of them at once, you went back to the modest one at a time, feeding Pierre’s cock in your mouth back down to halfway as your hand stayed around the base. You kept those shallow bobs of your head going, smothering your moans with a stuffed mouth, and your hand’s twisting strokes kept him nice and hard against your tongue. 

However, your half-assed attempt at a blowjob wasn’t getting past either of them and, with his hand still gripping your hair, Pierre started to pull your head deeper on him, demanding firmly, “Gag on it. I know you can take more than that.”

You dropped your hand from his cock to let your mouth get deeper, struggling to take his impressive size farther against your tongue until it hit the back of your throat. Your soft gag had you pulling back a little to keep a more respectable depth going. 

But George had other plans from your other side as his hand in your hair shoved you deeper again, making you gag violently around Pierre’s cock as he ordered sternly, “Come on. Choke on his fucking dick.” 

Your hands grasped Pierre’s thighs to keep yourself steady as you were forced deeper on him, both of them taking over your head to move you as they pleased, getting more of those filthy wet gags from your throat as your eyes burned with tears. It was nothing you would ever complain about since you would choose them over air any day. 

When you finally had to break away for a gasp of air, they let you go, both of them staring at your flushed face and the way you had thick strings of spit trailing down your chin and onto the floor. Heaving for breath through a small cough, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and then reached for their dicks again, eager to keep going. Pierre’s palm smacked down against your cheek and his fingers squeezed your face to get your mouth to open so he could spit against your tongue before shoving your head towards George. 

“You wanna be treated like a slut, don’t you?” Pierre taunted. 

You felt as though you were in a complete haze, running on adrenaline stemmed from pleasure, and you barely answered him with an acknowledged hum before you were feeding George’s dick back into your mouth. After being forced to take Pierre’s, it was a bit easier now although you still gagged around George’s impressive length as he reached the back of your throat. 

His hand tangled in your hair as he spoke down to you, “Want us to use you like you’re some stupid whore?”

Your moan around his dick was taken as affirmative and his hips nudged towards your mouth in an instinctive thrust, trying to meet your motions. You grasped onto his thighs and let your jaw fall slack into the deeper bobs of your head. 

Just then, Pierre set his hand on the back of your head again and forced you all the way down until your nose touched the dark hair that dotted the base of his cock, encouraging George with a firm statement, “Fuck her throat.”

Knowing what was coming - since having had plentiful experience with the both of them - you blinked your teary eyes up at George as both of his hands held your head and he started to thrust into your mouth. Your fingernails dug into his thighs as tears burned your vision and made it hard to keep looking at him, your throat gagging and constricting around him in the filthiest wettest sounds as he had his way with you. 

“Oh, fuck.” he moaned tightly, handsome face screwed up in ecstacy. 

“That’s it.” Pierre stood right beside you, pumping his cock with his fist as he watched you turn into an absolute mess on the driver’s dick, his tongue darting out between his lips before his teeth were sinking down into the bottom one. 

George’s fingers were tight in your hair as he yanked you into his every thrust like you were nothing more than a toy. It wasn’t the first time you had found yourself in that position with either of them, letting him take over all your senses at once until the rest of reality fell away into the ringing of your ears. That had you tapping out on his thigh and he made sure to let you go so you could catch your breath and let your senses come back to you. 

The moment his dick fell from your mouth with bubbling strings of spit still connecting it to your lips, you were coughing loudly despite the biggest grin that was plastered across your face, blinking away your blurring tears. You moved back in to kiss his tip and then turned to give Pierre a little lick too, resting your warm hands on their thighs to take a second to catch your breath and just admire them from the floor. And underneath your sore knees, George’s once perfectly ironed plaid trousers were a wrinkled and spitty mess. 

Pierre’s thumb slipped past your lips for you to suck on as he directed his question to the man beside him, “How wet do you think that got her?”

George chuckled knowingly, “Fucking soaked, probably.”

Pierre stepped aside and pointed to your nearly made double bed behind them, directing to you, “Get on the bed.” 

You pushed yourself up from the floor with an obedient, “Yes, sir.” 

As you walked between them to climb onto your bed, George’s hand smacked your ass on your way past and you flipped around to face them as you scooted farther back on the mattress. That ear-to-ear grin never left your face, especially as you watched them join you on the bed, George on your left and Pierre on your right. Resting on your forearms behind you, your legs were outstretched across the mattress with only your thin lace panties sitting snug around your hips, displaying your body for the both of them who were entirely familiar with each inch of your skin. 

Even the few seconds you sat there motionless as they settled beside you were torturously impatient and your hips seemed to roll against nothing in desperate humanistic craving to get some ounce of friction between your legs. So you reached down yourself, sliding your hand over your underwear to rub your clothed clit a little, but you barely got your hand on yourself before Pierre was yanking you away by your wrist. 

“Did we tell you to touch yourself?” he warned. 

“Mm,” your head dropped back towards the ceiling impatiently, “no.”

“Does it ache?” George asked from your other side, his accent thick with lust as his fingertips ghosted over your hardened nipples.

“Yeah.” you exhaled.

“Yeah?” Pierre nudged your knee to the side to force you to spread your legs wider, “I bet it does, dirty girl.” 

You stared down your body to watch his hand trail up your inner thigh and then down the other, not giving you the satisfaction of his touch where you craved it most. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in that heavy anticipation, watching his hand touch your thighs and your knees and your shins and your hips and even across your stomach and up your chest, urging an impatient whine out of you. Meanwhile, George’s fingers were pinching at your nipples before his mouth followed suit, plush lips wrapping around one for a teasing suck that had you falling back flat on the bed with a strained moan from your throat. Your wandering hands had a mind of their own, one sliding up the side of George’s face and into his soft brown waves while your other wrapped around Pierre’s bare bicep almost pleadingly. 

George pulled away from your chest with a soft pop and his tongue glided up your neck before his lips were locking with yours. You moaned pleasantly into his kiss and your fingers tightened in his hair, holding his mouth on yours as your tongue nudged against his insistently. After a few seconds, Pierre’s hand was teasing the waistband of your panties and he linked a finger right through the two leg holes so when he pulled his finger up, the fabric was pulled taut over your clit. You broke away from George’s lips with a soft groan, impatiently trying to nudge your hips up against Pierre’s hand. 

“That’s it, gorgeous. Want us to touch you?” George taunted down to you. 

“Yes, Georgie.” you purred angelically, batting your lashes up at him and his handsome face, lifting a hand up to reach out to stroke his bare chest and the faint hair between his pecs. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Pierre asked, tugging at your panties a little more so the tight fabric rubbed against your clit. “How long have you laid in this very bed and made yourself cum to the thought of both of us just having our way with you?”

“I don’t make myself cum,” you answered smoothly, draping your arms above your head lazily, “You two do it for me.”

The two of them laughed in realization of your spoken truth, the warm sound bringing an honest grin back to your face. 

Pierre tugged harder at your panties to really get the taut fabric nestling between your lips, “You’re such a good girl.”

George elaborated as his hand drifted down to your body to apply a bit more pressure to your clothed clit with his fingertips, speaking directly to you as he did so, “A good girl who just wants us to treat her like a bad girl, huh? Like you’ve done something wrong?” 

“Yes, sir.” you breathed, squirming against your bed under their unwavering stares. 

“Like lying to us while you were out fucking the other behind our backs?” George added as he slowly slid his hand farther down between your legs, following the thin fabric of your panties linked tightly in Pierre’s finger.

You had no reply for him, too focused on his hand disappearing between your thighs and you lifted your head up from your pillow to try and watch with bated breath. Pierre’s hand let go of your panties and instead his slender fingers wrapped around your throat, pinning your head down against your pillow again under his snug grasp. But you were pulling him down by the back of his neck after you, forcing his lips on yours in a breathless kiss as George slowly traced the hem of your underwear right down between your spread thighs. 

“You’re absolutely dripping…even your thighs are wet.” George breathed, dragging a finger along your inner thigh to touch the faint shimmer of wetness that had leaked from the protection of your underwear. The fabric itself was absolutely ruined just to show how turned on you already were and the simple action of him dragging three fingers over your clothed pussy had your hips nudging up against his hand and you moaned into Pierre’s mouth. 

Then, George’s hand moved to slip down the front of your underwear, giving himself permission to touch you without the barrier of pesky fabric. Your gasp had Pierre’s hand tightening around your throat and his tongue pushed against yours, forcing his control over you even if he wasn’t the one touching you. The sounds of your sloppy kisses were equal to the lewd wet caresses of George’s fingers gliding over your leaking pussy, rubbing you slowly, tauntingly, smothering his fingertips in your messy wetness until they were covered. 

Your hand wrapped blindly around his bicep as your other arm was tossed around Pierre’s shoulders, still kissing him breathless, and your legs habitually opened wider as if silently permitting George to touch you more. He seemed to take to your invitation as he took his hand back just long enough to push your damp underwear down your legs and they were tossed to the pile of clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed. The cool air of your apartment hitting your wet cunt made you shiver but his fingers were on you again in an instant, warming you up with the friction of his touch. 

You broke away from Pierre with a choked moan and his lips found your neck instead, kissing you slowly under your ear, his facial hair tickling across your skin, while his hand moved down from your throat to your chest, tweaking at your nipples with warm touches. George’s hand was still between your legs and he glanced back at your face again while he rubbed across your pussy before slipping two fingers inside you. His eyebrows raised in time with the blissful parting of your lips, his attention focused on the wavering expression of your face as you stared at each other lustfully. 

“Good girl.” he whispered softly, his voice as smooth as butter. 

You barely had to make a move to reach for him before he was leaning down towards you on his own accord, locking your lips with his in a filthy kiss. The unkempt hairspray-stained brunette curls at the nape of his neck always called to your fingers and you laced your hand in the halo of styled brown hair to gently tug on. It was Pierre’s kisses on your neck that rose shivers down your arms although the heat that flushed across your body was thanks to the steady nudges of George’s two fingers inside you. They were a pair to be reckoned with it seemed - but you had figured that from the moment you met each of them individually. 

Your bedroom welcomed your soft moans at their presence, egged on by George’s generous fingers and his kisses that swallowed up your audible praise. Pierre lifted his head from your neck and you shuttered at the graze of his touch over your clit, breaking away from George’s lips.

Although Pierre moved towards you like he was going to take his opportunity, he didn’t, and instead he let his fingers circle at your swollen clit as he spoke right to your face, “That’s it. You’re gonna let us have our way with you, huh? Make you feel so fucking good.”

He swallowed your whimper up with his lips like it was dessert, dragging his tongue against yours to taste the sweetness of your pleasure. George was right there as well and you only had to turn your face away from Pierre the slightest amount to be able to take kisses from him too. With their hands between your legs and sharing the responsibility of bringing you into that heart-racing euphoria, you went between their lips in turns, pulling at hair and the backs of necks as if you couldn’t get enough of them. 

Both of them were tucked right up close to you on either side, gladly sharing in your kisses until you had to take a break to breathe, your gaze drifting down your body to their hands between your legs. As if sharing the same mind, they both sped up their fingers a little more, forcing a tight groan from your throat as your head fell back against your pillow. 

“Give up control to us, cherié.” Pierre whispered against your cheek, “Let us take those stupid little thoughts from that pretty little head of yours.”

And then he was disappearing from your side and shifting down the bed. 

George took his fingers out of you and the momentary lack of touch had you whining in displeasure as they situated themselves. Pierre shoved your legs apart wider and he slid down onto the mattress between them so he could spit right onto your pussy before his fingers were sliding right through it and back up. He slapped three fingers down on your clit, making you startle, and with a cocky smirk against your inner thigh, his blue eyes staring up at you, he gave you a few more smacks. 

“Holy fuck.” you squeaked, stretching one arm out across the sheets to grasp at the fabric while your other hand wrapped around George’s bicep. You knew exactly what was coming and the way Pierre’s hand wrapped around your thighs and yanked you closer to him in the middle of the bed had you biting back an anticipatory smile. Once his tongue dragged right up over your pussy, your head was falling back with a beaming grin to the ceiling, “Yes.”

You had come to learn over the summer that they each had their strengths and it was a genuine fact that you could never get enough of Pierre’s mouth. In fact, many nights, he would go down on you until you were shaking and begging him to stop. He always just wanted one more orgasm out of you and maybe that’s what kept you going back and what kept you opening your legs for him. This was no different as he licked at your pussy and peppered open mouthed kisses over your glistening thighs and he suckled on your lips to make sure he was covering every last inch of you with his mouth. 

“Oh my God, Pierre.” you whimpered, draping your arms above your head. 

His large hands groped your flesh where your thighs met your ass and he spread you open to permit his tongue between your lips, lapping at the sweetness that dripped out of you before finally dragging a straight shot right up to your clit. You gasped hard, back arching off the bed slightly, and you choked out his name to the ceiling. 

George, still sitting naked at your side, collected your wrists in his one large hand and kept your arms pinned above your head, ordering firmly, “Be a good fucking girl for us and hold still.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to try and contain yourself despite the way Pierre was repeatedly stroking his full tongue over your aching clit. You swore your entire body was sizzling, hungry and pulsing for some sort of release of all that pesky pressure building inside you and the moans that tumbled messily from your lips were only proof of that. 

George’s hand was still pinning your wrists down to your bed but his other was aimlessly stroking his cock as his gaze was focused on the way Pierre went down on you, finding it incredibly hot to watch the way you spread your legs for another man despite that twinge of jealousy inside him that he wasn’t often familiar with. So, instead, he shuffled closer to you on his knees and let go of your wrists so he could pull your face in his direction and rub the head of his cock over your lips. 

“Open.” he said lowly. 

You took a breath before parting your lips and letting him push in his dick, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as he filled your mouth all while Pierre still tended to your clit in perfect wet strokes. George caressed your cheek with his warm hand and brushed your sweaty hair back from your face as he thrusted shallowly into your mouth so your cheek bulged slightly from the head of his cock. Your eyes fluttered shut through a soft moan, blindly moving a hand to wrap around the base of his dick to help keep him steady in your mouth while your legs draped over Pierre’s shoulders to pull him closer. 

“You’re such a pretty little slut.” George cooed, trailing his fingers through your hair. 

You tried to focus on him but Pierre’s mouth ravishing you between your legs was making any other task intensely difficult. Pierre wrapped his entire arms around your thighs to yank you closer to his mouth, holding you in place, and his nose brushed across your clit as his tongue nudged inside you again. You moaned messily around George as your other hand reached down to tangle in Pierre’s messy brown hair, helping yourself to nudge your hips up against his mouth some more. 

When you pulled away from George’s cock for a moment to breathe, your hand picked up the slack in messy strokes slicked up from your spit while your head lifted up from the bed to look down at Pierre. Pierre’s blue eyes were already looking right back up at you from between your legs with half his face hidden as he smothered himself in your pussy, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs that were nearly wrapped around his head. The breathy moans and whimpers that tumbled from your lips were nearly involuntary and your head dropped back against the bed with the strong growing pleasure coursing through you. 

George rubbed the head of his cock across your swollen lips, urging your mouth to open and he slipped inside again. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as he took up your mouth in shallow thrusts and you tried to be good for him and give him all that you could at that angle. He seemed to take that upon himself though as his hand tangled in the back of your hair and his hips nudged a bit harder into your mouth until he was reaching the back of your throat and making you gag on his dick. 

“Don’t take your mouth off it.” George told you lowly, holding you down on him with your nose nearly touching the dark hair that dotted the base of his cock. 

You gagged loudly around him, tears blurring your vision and leaking down your flushed cheeks, and your hands pressed pleadingly against his thigh and his abdomen even as he gave you a few more shallow thrusts behind nearly pitch perfect moans. A few seconds later he was pulling right out, letting you heave a gasp of air as you coughed through the spit that drooled down your chin right at the moment where Pierre slipped two fingers inside you, forcing you to choke over your breath. Your hand kept stroking George’s cock while Pierre’s tongue found your clit again and he pressed warm wet kisses over it before taking it between his lips to suck on while his fingers nudged inside you strongly. 

“My fucking God-” you choked out, writhing against the bedsheets. 

George slapped his hand down against one of your bare breasts and then the other before finishing with a third smack to your cheek and then he was reaching down to grab your ankle and he yanked your legs open. With your legs forced apart, Pierre’s tongue had more direct access to your clit and his fingers were shoving into your sopping cunt at that perfect angle that tore the breath from your lungs. In fact, as he drew you closer, you habitually held your breath, limbs tensing as that intense warmth coiled tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach. 

George’s hand smacking against your cheek again startled the air into your chest, forcing you to squeak out a pitchy, “Fuck!” 

“Are you gonna cum for another man right in front of me?” George taunted from beside you, groping your breasts one at a time and pinching your nipples just to add onto your already intense sensations.

You couldn’t do anything else but nod feverishly with a pitiful, “Uh huh.”

“Yeah? Wanna cum on his mouth?” 

Your fingers tightened in Pierre’s hair, yanking him closer as his tongue and fingers worked in sync to finish you off, your eyes screwing shut as you body trembled, meaningless words tumbling from your lips, “Yes, yes, yes-”

“Good girl.” George’s hand wrapped around your throat while his other kept a snug grasp on your ankle to keep your legs spread wide for Pierre’s tongue. His blue eyes focused on your flushed face as he spoke to you with a lust that weaved itself through each word within his thick London accent, “Show me what an insatiable little whore you are and cum on his fucking mouth.”

Your mouth fell open dumbly, glazed eyes rolling back as your body shuttered against the sheets and bursts of pleasure took over your body. You could hardly recall crying out Pierre’s name through your moans as you struggled to get your senses about yourself, trying to turn away from his mouth that cleaned you up with an eager tongue. He would have easily stayed down there to make you cum over and over but he didn’t want to be selfish about it - there was another person involved after all. 

So, instead, Pierre shifted up from between your legs, speaking down to you with that unmissable smirk of his, “What do you say?” 

“Thank you.” you whimpered, letting him capture your words with his mouth in a filthy kiss. He still tasted like you and your arms tossed around his shoulders as you sucked on his tongue, trying to get his naked body against yours by your leg wrapping around his waist until he was slipping out of your arms just as quickly.

“Switch.”

Your head turned to George as he dictated the next move with a cock of his head and Pierre generously moved off the bed entirely, giving you room to take the initiative to rotate yourself 90-degrees so you were laying across the mattress at the ready for your other handsome suitor. George helped himself to your bedside drawer where he pulled out the half empty box of condoms and took one out to set between his lips as he situated himself on his knees between your spread legs. 

“Who says you get to fuck her first?” Pierre said with a playful edge to his voice. 

“I’m the original, in case you forgot.” George countered with a sly smirk, “I think I get priority.” 

Pierre was right on the reply, “Shame she had to find a second man to properly satisfy her then.”

“Okay, okay.” you hushed them with a soft chuckle, “Don’t go and fight over me now.” 

George ripped open the condom with his teeth as his narrowed eyes stayed directed to Pierre who was standing on the other side of the bed. You couldn’t see Pierre from how you were laying with him standing above where your head was, but that was fine since the sight of George rolling on the condom was highly intriguing to you. Despite the generous way in which Pierre finished you mere moments before, you still had that pesky ache that throbbed between your legs as you watched George prep to take you in the middle of your bed and so you reached a hand down to rub your fingers over your messy pussy impatiently. You slid two inside you for a moment, slicking them up in your wetness before taking them back out to spread your lips apart for him, taunting him silently. The low groan that fell from the Brit’s chest had you biting back your cocky grin; only more so as he shuffled closer to you on his knees so he could nudge the protected head of his cock right between your spread fingers. 

Your eyes were focused down your body to stare, waiting for him to push inside you, and when you looked up at his face, you spoke to his stormy blue eyes with a whispered, “Please.”

The sly smirk that pricked at his lips was reply enough and no sooner was your weak request spoken was he slipping inside you steadily. Your hands slid up his bare body and over his chest with a strained moan at the initial stretch that was much more intense than Pierre’s fingers had been. And when your fingers tangled in the back of his luscious brown hair, you pulled him in for a sloppy tongue-led kiss and met him halfway, sharing hungry moans into each other’s mouths. 

Pierre watched for a moment from his spot at the side of the bed, having a perfect view right down your body to watch you get fucked by another man when your kiss broke apart. You were a fan of watching too; lifting your head up from the mattress to stare down between your spread legs to see how your pussy stretched around George’s perfect cock and accepted every last inch of him. Your hands wrapped around his biceps as he rested on flat hands and straight arms on either side of your body, starting to thrust greedily into you. 

“Fuck yeah.” you breathed, your hushed encouragement laced with a pretty whimper. 

From above you, Pierre’s hand was taken to his dick and he couldn’t help but give himself haphazard pumps to try and rid that seemingly ever present ache. The sounds alone were enough, finding his head spinning from the creamy wet squeltches of your cunt and those lewd sounds of skin on skin in rhythmic succession. It was human nature; who could blame him? 

Your head fell back against your mattress with a whine, skin flushing hot from the pleasure that burned within you, and your hands drifted from George’s arms to his shoulders with a quivering, “My God, George, fuck.” 

Both men never failed to make you feel like heaven, knowing exactly what to do and how to do it to bring that dopey pleasured expression to your face. George’s precise curling strokes were no different, only being pulled into you harder by your legs wrapped around his waist. He seemed lost in you, moving one hand higher up the mattress to press beside your head as a rich moan fell from his chest, keeping the consistent snap of his hips against yours. 

“Yeah, gimme it.” you pleaded with a voice that sounded like you were fighting tears. “Please, sir.”

Pierre’s hands on your arms startled you and suddenly he was yanking you closer to the edge of the bed towards him. George shuffled after you right away and he guided your legs up towards your chest as he pushed back inside you and picked up where he left off from his knees. With your head hanging off the side of the bed, you were at that perfect height for Pierre to slap his hard cock against your face and you couldn’t help the surprised giggle that passed your spitty lips. The two men smiled themselves at your sweet enjoyment with George still nestled deep inside you and Pierre then helping himself to your mouth. You kept your hands wrapped snugly around George’s biceps as he held your thighs back towards your chest, giving himself a perfect little hole to thrust into. And with your head hanging off the side of the bed, Pierre wasn’t much different in the sense that he, too, was shoving messily into you, taken by the warm wet confines of your mouth. His groan when he hit the back of your throat was nearly muffled by your gag and out of instinct your nails dug into George’s skin. 

“Take it.” George ordered, staring down at you beneath him and the faint bulge in your throat that appeared with every one of Pierre’s thrusts into your mouth. He stayed steady himself, pushing into your pliant body, his familiar hands pressing strongly into the backs of your thighs to literally hold you in half. 

You couldn’t stay like that for long with Pierre’s cock blocking your airway as you gagged around him messily, trying to be good for him, with his balls nudging against your face with his every shallow thrust. When he pulled out of your mouth again, you gasped almost violently, desperately pulling air into your lungs as your own spit smeared across your cheeks from the head of his cock. It was hard to catch your breath, however, when George was fucking it right back out of you, not slowing down for a second. You could feel tears burning your eyes from how good it felt and your chin tucked down to your chest to watch between your spread legs with an expression of pure screwed up pleasure. 

Pierre crouched down by your head that was still hovered over the side of the mattress, whispering right against your ear, “Look at you taking that fucking cock like such a good little slut.”

You only whimpered in reply, not tearing your eyes away from the lewd scene before you. George moved one of his hands from your leg to tangle in the back of your hair instead, keeping your head up just like that so you truly had no choice but to watch as he fucked you. So you held your legs back on your own, pulling them back and open wide with your hands on the backs of your knees. 

“That’s it,” Pierre praised against your ear as the intensity from George had your bed creaking faintly underneath you, and he reached down to grope your breasts in his hands at the same time, “spread those fucking legs for him. Letting him fuck your pussy like you’re some stupid toy…having us take turns using you. Can’t get enough dick, can you, cherié?” 

All you could whine out was a blubbery “no” in reply as your eyes raised to George’s face again. 

“Fuck.” he groaned tightly at the sight of your expression, “Look at that sweet face.” 

“George...” you whimpered up at him. 

“Fuck, yeah, gorgeous.” he said through his teeth, starting to speed up his thrusts a bit more as he stared right into your eyes, head still cradeled in his hand as he cooed down to you, “That’s my girl.” 

Pierre’s hands on your breasts pinched at your nipples as his lips found your neck, trailing slow open mouthed kisses across your warm skin in time with his rough touch. Then he was sliding his hands farther down your body and past the curve of your hips and between your spread thighs and his right hand dipped down to let his fingertips graze over your clit. The soft squeak that slipped from your throat had him smiling against your neck and he nipped at your earlobe before letting his fingers start to rub precise circles over your swollen clit, matching the pace of George’s thrusts almost perfectly. 

“Oh my God.” you moaned out, trying to toss your head back habitually but George’s grasp at the back of your neck prevented you. Instead, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you were forced to watch as you held your legs open wide by your own free will, tears brimming with pleasurable tears as the whimpery moans tumbled helplessly from your mouth and you could barely get out a trembling, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Should we keep going?” Pierre taunted against your ear. 

“Yes!” you answered hurriedly, “Yes, please keep going. Please don’t fucking stop!” 

“Yeah? Think you deserve that?” Pierre’s fingers rubbed faster at your clit, his other hand pinching one of your nipples again, and then he was looking up at George and directing to him, “Think she deserves to cum again?”

You tried to plead with him with your eyes but before you could even give a proper attempt, he was pulling right out of you. At almost the same time, Pierre took his fingers away, leaving you with a smack to your cheek as he stood up again. You writhed in frustration against your bed, George’s sudden distance allowing your head to fall off the edge of the mattress as you cried out pathetically to the ceiling and your hands pressed between your legs. 

As if ignorant to your whining, the two men shifted their positions, casually speaking their game plan into existence starting with George’s question, “Wanna turn her over?”

“Yeah.” Pierre knelt up on the bed too and he took that time to roll on a condom.

You didn’t even need to move on your own as George maneuvered you how they wanted you with near ease, grabbing your arm and yanking you over onto your stomach. He then grabbed your hips and guided your ass up, forcing you to be bent at the waist and he leaned down to spread your cheeks and get a quick taste of you himself. You groaned into the sheets and pushed back against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut, but no sooner did he start was he pulling away and giving your ass a smack to let Pierre take over. 

“Tastes good, huh?” Pierre chuckled. 

George licked away his cocky grin, “Fuck yeah.” 

“Maybe we should turn her that way?” Pierre gestured to the headboard. 

“I was gonna stand in front of her.” George countered casually. 

“Oh, yeah, okay, that works.” Pierre agreed as he shuffled up behind you on his knees. 

“You’re teaming up on me. This isn’t fair.” you said lightheartedly, trying to look back at them over your shoulder. 

“Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?” George argued lightly as he got off the bed and walked around to stand in front of you. 

You had no rebuttal since he was entirely correct so you just smothered your smile into the crook of your arm as he took off the condom, letting it drop to the floor to be dealt with later so his entirely natural dick could press up against your lips. From behind you at the same time, Pierre was slipping the protected head of his cock between your sopping pussy and he nudged it teasingly against you a few times before finally guiding himself inside you. 

Your fingers grasped onto the edge of the mattress at the pressure that he pushed across your hips, stretching you around his cock, and his hands on your hips guided you back into him until your ass pressed against his pelvis. With your trembling moan, George took that opportunity to angle his dick against your mouth and you naturally let your jaw fall slack to welcome him in against your tongue. Pierre’s lazy testing thrusts had you moaning around George greedily and your eyes fluttered shut contently, entirely entrusting of the both of them. 

Pierre’s hands kneaded the flesh of your hips and he groaned warmly as he pulled you back on him more until there was absolutely no space between you, sheathing himself completely inside you. Your body burned for more attention, desperate for more of anything, and you couldn’t help but instinctively start to fuck yourself back onto Pierre’s cock yourself, ultimately making you start to suck George off at the same pace. George’s fingers trailed through your hair over the crown of your head, pushing your bangs out of your face politely so you could have free reign of his cock in your mouth - and so he could get a better view of it. With your tangled hair draped over one shoulder, your mouth could take to him freely in back and forth strokes made by the way you pushed your body back on Pierre at a steady pace. 

With a sharp slap to your ass, Pierre announced matter-of-factly, “Fucking slut.”

You could barely offer a sweet moan in reply before he was grabbing your hips again and starting to fuck you himself. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the mattress, trying to keep your mouth tending to George but the pleasure that tore through you had you freezing up. So he took it upon himself to thrust into your mouth in return, taking to the other half of your body in shallow possessive strokes. You gagged around him messily, drooling down your chin and onto the bedsheets, your eyes blurring tears from the combination of the both of them. 

The slick sound of Pierre’s skin clapping with yours filled your modest bedroom and as he fucked you harder, it only grew louder and more intense. You couldn’t help but naturally try to move away from the strength of it, turning your head away from George to hide your face in the sheets with a strained whimper, your body writhing against the mattress. 

But Pierre stopped just long enough to yank you back into place, ordering firmly with another spank, “Keep your ass up.”

“Sorry-” your words were cut off as he grabbed a fistfull of your hair and yanked your head up, forcing you to gasp out the rest, “sir.”

With your hair in his one handed grip, he was in complete control of you, keeping you at his mercy as he pounded into you from behind. His free hand came down hard against your ass, leaving a blushing red handprint on your flesh that he made darker with another slap. You swore you were drooling from it, eyes glossy with pleasure, trying to focus on George’s shimmering caramel skin right in front of your face. 

George’s fingers trailed over your lips and he slipped two into your mouth for you to suck on, speaking to the room with a tone full of hushed surprised realization, “My God, I love watching you get fucked.” 

You moaned around his fingers, teary eyes raising to look up at his face as Pierre’s grip on your hair kept your head back. George pulled his hand back, his fingers glistening in your spit, and he started to stroke his cock in purposeful strokes, staring right back into your eyes. You couldn’t help the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you stared back at him, your expression wavering with each aggressive thrust from the man behind you. Pierre’s hand coming down hard against your ass again had you flinching.

“Ah- Fuck, Pierre!” you blurted out. 

“Yeah?” he slowed just long enough to give your hair a yank again, “Don’t just lay there. Suck his dick.”

George took over for him with his hand in your hair and he shuffled himself a bit closer to the edge of your bed to guide your mouth back down on him. Once he was nestled back in your mouth, Pierre was picking up the pace again to find a more sustainable but just as strong intensity that had your eyebrows furrowing. Brushing your hair over one of your shoulders before taking it in his fist in a makeshift ponytail, George was staring down at you with the very definition of lust across his face. 

“Good girl.” he praised richly. 

With your elbow resting on the mattress, you reached your hand up to wrap around the base of his cock and help to guide your movements, moaning around him warmly even as he started to thrust into your mouth a little more. You could hardly see behind the tears that pricked your eyes thanks to the both of them completely taking you over, but you let the rivers of pleasure carve their way down your cheeks without a single complaint. 

As George nudged against the back of your throat, Pierre let out a stiff groan from behind you, squeezing your hips as he spoke aloud, “I can tell when she gags on your dick because she tries to push me out.” 

You whimpered, half embarrassed at how they were always so aware of your every slight reaction, but you couldn’t focus on much else with each of them stuffing you full from either end. They took up all of your senses, all of your thoughts, all of your desires, until you were a nearly incomprehensible, hazy, drooling mess between them. You were so muddled in pleasure, in fact, that you weren’t even aware they had spoken their next move out loud until they were pulling out of you at the same time and you were left with aching emptiness. 

“No-” you barely whimpered out, glancing over your shoulder as Pierre pulled off the condom and then shifted his position on your bed. 

George then joined you too, being tossed another condom from Pierre in the process, and then he was nudging your hip, “Stay just like this but face the top of the bed there, gorgeous.” 

On quivering limbs, you shifted yourself ninety-degrees to face towards the headboard on hands and knees and, ultimately, where Pierre was situated. He was resting on his knees in front of you, his glistening dick in hand, and you couldn’t help but press a fleeting kiss to the tip. He smirked down at you and tucked your hair behind your ear while you kept yourself bent at the waist for George who was rolling on the fresh condom behind you. 

“That’s it.” George breathed, shuffling up closer behind you to angle the protected head of his cock between your legs, “So willing to just let us fuck you in every position we want, huh?”

You wiggled back on him with a sweet, “Mhm.”

“Yeah,” he praised lowly as he pushed inside you steadily with a soft groan, “Good fucking girl.” 

“Oh my God.” you moaned shakily, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he started to thrust into with ease, “Fuck, you’re so fucking big.”

George’s hand came down in a sharp spank against your ass before he was grabbing a handful of your flesh and tugging you back into his every consistent stroke, blessing your bedroom with the sound of his slick skin colliding with yours. With your forearms on either side of Pierre, his dick was right in your face, and you smothered your involuntary whimpers by wrapping your lips around it and sinking your mouth right down. Pierre’s fingers tangled in your hair and from his position on his knees in front of you, staring down at you as your mouth worked on him messily and you drooled down your chin. You shifted in front of him to reach him a little better with the opportunity to wrap your hand around the base of his lengthy cock.

But then George’s hands slid from your hips to the dip of your waist and he pressed the heels of his palms into the small of your back, telling you firmly, “Arch your back.”

You forced yourself deeper for him, bent in half right down against the mattress until your cheek was caressed by the wrinkled duvet. Your fingers clutched the fabric in white-knuckled grips, eyes fluttering as your chest moaned beautiful symphonies from his precise strokes and the way he hit in all the right spots that you swore you were seeing stars. Pierre’s hand pet your hair out of your flushed face before giving your cheek a faint smack, watching your hazy expression as you were fucked by another man. 

“George-” you whimpered shakily, trying to look over your shoulder at him. 

Without hesitating, George pointed towards the direction of your bedside table and directed to Pierre, “Pass me that?”

You could hardly get your eyes to focus on anything of sustenance to know what he was requesting, too drunk on his dick to think of much else. But as Pierre shifted from in front of you to reach towards the cluttered surface of your bedside table, he clarified, “The camera?”

“Yeah.”

“George-” you pleaded, nearly melting into your mattress. 

As he situated the camera in his hands behind you - while still keeping his precise thrusts going - Pierre maneuvered himself in front of you so he was sitting properly on your bed and resting back against the pillows and headboard, leaving his legs parted on either side of you so you could nestle right between them. Your arms naturally went over his thighs and his dick was right in your face again but you let it rest against your cheek for a moment as you lingered in that haze of pleasure. 

“Look at me a sec, sugar.” George requested. 

Pierre helped to pull your hair over one shoulder as you looked back towards George, your natural expression being picture-perfect and the sound of the shutter and a burst of the flash in the dimly lit bedroom. 

“Beautiful.” George complimented as the polaroid printed from the base of the camera and he gave it a little shake before tossing it aimlessly onto the bed. Still nestled inside you all the way, he gave you a few more haphazard thrusts before lifting the camera up again to peer through the viewfinder, angling it down to get that perfect shot of your body bent over before him. He kept you there with a warm, “Just like that.”

Another click of the shutter and burst of flash and a second polaroid picture was dropped onto the bed beside you to develop. You blinked away the colourful shapes that floated in front of your eyes thanks to the interruption of that sudden bright light, turning your head back to face Pierre’s lap and his fingers scratched through the roots of your hair gently, silently guiding your mouth towards his achingly hardly cock. 

“One more,” George encouraged, watching through the camera lens, “Put his dick in your mouth.”

You reached a hand over to wrap around the base of Pierre’s cock and you guided it towards your outstretched tongue, pausing there a moment for the photo opportunity until the flash went off again, encapsulating the both of them on either side of you in the most erotic way in a polaroid picture. 

“Good girl.” George praised. 

His praise in that sweet accent of his had you melting into a cheeky smile, sliding your arms farther across the bed on either side of Pierre’s lap so your face was nestled right in his lap and your mouth took as much of his cock as you could. You moaned happily around him, warm from praise and affection, truly not wanting to be anywhere else at that moment. 

“Our own little centrefold.” Pierre tisked, his voice low and deep with lust, watching you suck lazily on him as his fingers trailed through your hair. “Little fucking exhibitionist slut.”

“Mhm.” George tossed your camera onto the bed alongside the polaroids to give you his full attention again and the warmth of his large rough hands caressing your hips and your ass made you groan around Pierre’s cock. Then, with another spank, George was picking up the pace again, fucking you selfishly into your bed and, ultimately, right into Pierre’s lap as he spoke down to you in a taunting coo, “Poor thing can’t seem to ever be satisfied.”

You pulled off Pierre’s dick with a pitchy whine and a thick string of spit still connecting you, pushing yourself up onto your hands instead for a new angle as you fucked yourself back into George’s motions. Pierre took over with his hand himself, keeping his gaze focused on your euphoric expression as you were taken by another man right in front of him. 

“That’s it.” he exhaled with a lick and a bite to his plush lips, “Merde, you take it so fucking well.”

Your palms were still pressed flat to the bed on either side of his lap so you were basically face to face, although your attention was more so towards the man behind you at that moment. Face screwed up in pleasure and tears brimming in your eyes, you were a moaning, whimpering mess, and your sounds were only countered by the slick clap of his skin with yours and the creak of your bed beneath you. 

“Fuck, George!” you cried out shakily, “Right there, right there! Fuck!” 

“Yeah, take that dick, baby.” Pierre praised through his teeth, using his free hand that wasn’t pumping his cock to squeeze your cheeks between his thumb and fingers. 

One look into Pierre’s pretty blue eyes and all that pleasure was building up inside you faster and faster, acting as the catalyst to bring you right to the edge by just a glance. He kept you focused on him like that, forcing you to stare into his eyes, helped only more so by George’s hand yanking at your hair to keep your head right up. 

“You gonna cum for us again?” George taunted from behind you as he kept his strong pace going.

“Yes, sir.” you squeaked out. “Please let me cum.”

“Such a good girl with good fucking manners.” Pierre cooed as he took his hand from your face just long enough to give your cheek a few smacks. “Keep making these pretty fucking sounds of yours.”

“Oh, please.” you whimpered loudly, melting into a blubbering mess of moans and whines that were incomprehensible. The slick erotic clap of skin on skin fought with the volume of your noises, making a lewd symphony in your dimly lit bedroom with your sweaty body captured between the two men who had you in the palms of their hands. They weren’t quiet either; the sounds of their panted breaths and handsome groans going right between your quivering legs.

Pierre’s fingers squished your cheeks snugly to keep your glossy eyes on his while George’s fist in your hair kept your head up and your body in just the right position for him. He was giving you every last inch in quick succession, absolutely having his way with you, and the tears that streaked down your cheeks were born from nothing but pure overwhelming pleasure. His name fell from your spitty lips like second nature since your brain could hardly make sense of any proper sentences, letting a stumbling chant of his name fill the hot sticky air between you. 

And as your euphoria rose to its peak, you squeaking out a warning, “I’m cumming-”

George gave you a hard spank as you fell into waves of pleasure under his control, your body tensing on your quivering arms, and you fell perfectly silent for a moment, gaping dumbly without tearing your eyes away from Pierre’s firm gaze.

“Good fucking girl.” Pierre praised you strongly directly to your face as his right hand kept stroking his cock, “That’s my good little slut; cum all over his fucking dick.”

You gasped out of it, heaving for air as your limbs trembled, and you finally tore your attention away from Pierre so you could look back towards George and reach a hand back to grasp his thigh and slow him down.

“O-Oh my God.” you whimpered, wincing as he pulled out of you and left you with another little smack to your ass. 

“Look at you shaking.” George chuckled warmly, “I didn’t even do much.”

“Mm,” you pushed yourself away from Pierre so you were sitting back on your knees in the middle of your messy bed, thighs visibly vibrating, “you know just what I like.”

George’s hand wrapped around your throat and he pulled your head back just enough to get his lips on yours. You shared a few breathless tongue-led kisses before he was breaking away to retrieve your polaroid camera from across the bed before it could risk being broken. Pierre took that opportunity to adjust himself in front of you to keep himself leaning back comfortably against the headboard and pillows and he grabbed your wrist to guide you towards him.

“C’mere. I want a turn.” he demanded. 

You tucked your hair behind your ears, unable to lick away your giddy grin as you shuffled closer to him on your knees and straddled his lap carefully. Your skin was glistening in sweat, leaving you in a faint glimmer that his hands caressed over longingly as he pulled you into his arms. Dipping down to kiss his plush lips, you let him adjust you blindly on his lap until you could feel the head of his cock against your warm swollen pussy, taunting you with the risk of feeling him raw. 

“Here.” George’s voice tore you away from Pierre’s lips and you watched as he tossed him another condom from your half-empty box, sharing a teasing, “These are gonna be gone by the end of the night at this rate.”

Pierre didn’t seem bothered by the reminder of contraception and he caught it with an amused smirk to his counterpart and then ripped it open with his teeth, all while keeping one hand around your back to hold you close. Your fingers scratched through the back of his brunette waves, impatiently waiting for him to roll it on himself - and keeping your sudden lust-fueled desire to just skip the hassle of condoms all together to yourself. His tongue dragged across one of your nipples as his arm around your waist guided you closer, mingling your sweaty skin with his spit as he slid the protected head of his cock between your lips and nudged it against your sensitive clit.

Your hips jumped naturally at his teasing touches and you felt him smile against your breast before he was easing you down onto his dick. Your mouth fell open habitually, head tilting back just a little as the breath caught in your chest for a moment, and you sank down on him easily after plenty of warm-up. Pierre groaned lowly, his lips wrapping around your other nipple to suck on, and his large hands groped your ass and pulled your hips right up against his so you were flush together. 

After a brief second, you tucked your hair over your shoulder and let your hands rest on his chest as he broke away from your breasts to look up at your face properly. Keeping that unwavering eye contact, you started to rise up and then sink back down on him in slow curling motions that had his eyebrows furrowing slightly, his lips parting in the sweetest expression. And the sound was unbelievable, that lewd wet squelch of your pussy taking him all in, wrapping around him so snugly.

“Mm, my God, you’re so fucking creamy.” Pierre chuckled lowly, licking away his grin, “I can feel it through the condom.”

“You’re welcome.” George piped up from the foot of the bed, taking his second to just watch.

“It was a joint effort.” Pierre retorted lightheartedly, punctuating his fact with a spank to your rosy flesh. You shared in his smile and leaned down for a kiss, licking your way into his mouth to earn a groan from his chest. His hands on your ass helped to guide your lazy motions, settling you into a steady pace to start to ride him properly on your quivering thighs. 

After a few seconds, you pulled away from his lips to meet his gaze with your hands on his shoulders and your bottom lip between your teeth. It wasn’t the first time you found yourself on top of him like that and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, taking what you wanted from him in lazy bounces with your tangled hair falling messily around your head like a voluminous halo. The sight of him licking his lips as he stared at you had your insides in a whirl, head falling backwards with a soft groan of pleasure to the ceiling, in a trance from the steady clap, clap, clap of your ass meeting his thighs in that dizzying rhythm. 

“That’s it.” Pierre praised you richly, “That’s my girl.” 

The mattress dipped slightly as George joined you on the bed again and he moved closer to smack his hand down against your ass. He himself was all too used to watching you like that from below so he took that opportunity to soak up the new angle, big blue eyes lingering on every inch of your glistening body. You couldn’t see him with how you were facing towards the top of the bed but you could feel him behind you, watching, his hand that wasn’t stroking his cock sliding down your spine. 

With a gentle push against your lower back, he firmly requested, “Show me.” 

You knew what he wanted as you bent forward at the waist and Pierre’s hands helped to drape your hair over one shoulder so he didn’t get a face full of it as you leaned over top of him. You rested on your forearms on either side of his head, trying to glance back over your shoulder towards the other man behind you. Pierre caressed your body with his large hands, sliding down to your hips and over the curve of your ass before he was grabbing two snug handfuls of your flesh and pulling them apart to really show off how you were nestled right down on him. Despite the shift in position, you kept pushing back on his dick in lazy motions, whining softly at the pressure that the length of him pushed deep inside you. 

George exhaled warmly from his front row seat, watching how you were wrapped around Pierre’s cock so tightly with your every motion, speaking lowly from behind you, “You’re so stretched out.” 

“Isn’t she?” Pierre took his hand back to give your ass a smack before he was sliding his palms up to your waist and gave your curves a squeeze as he flexed his hips up into you, “Such a perfect fucking pussy for us. Such a perfect fucking girl.” 

Your fingers grasped onto the sheets on either side of him with a groan from your chest, stalling your motions to let him take over for you. You stared down at him from your rightful spot on top of him, lip between your teeth, keeping your eyes locked on his. 

“Pretty little slut just wants to be used.” he cooed, gently nudging up into you in precise shallow thrusts and watching how your expression faltered. 

“Oh my God, Pierre-“ you whimpered softly and you pushed yourself up onto your hands on either side of his head. At that new position you could arch your back just a little more to help him find just the right angle inside you. Your mouth dropped open with a hearty moan as your grip tightened on the pillow over straight arms. 

Pierre pushed himself a little harder, thrusting up into you with a tight grunt of his own, keeping a strong pace just deep enough to kiss your g-spot head on every time. His hands gripped your hips tighter, unbothered by how George shifted across the bed and yanked open your bedside table again. You, especially, were ignorant to his move as you were so easily put back into that trance of pleasure by the control of his just as handsome counterpart. 

Your soft whimpers only spurred Pierre on and you grew louder by the second, filling your bedroom at the late hour with your euphoric gasps and squeals, chanting to the four walls and the man below you, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, right there!”

“Yeah?” Pierre spoke up to you through his teeth, “Does that feel good, baby? Feeling something so big in your tiny little pussy?”

“Fuck-“ you choked out, forcing your head to turn away as his vulgar words made his eye contact almost too overwhelming. 

Feeling George coming up behind you was expected and Pierre slowed for a moment to make sure you were all situated. You weren’t sure of George’s intentions at first until his lube streaked hand was smearing over your asshole and down to where Pierre was nestled inside you and back up again. 

“I think our girl has been so fucking good for us that we should give her what she wanted now.” George suggested. 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Pierre agreed, keeping his hands on your waist to hold you in place with you leaning over top of him on your hands still. 

You had tried anal with each of them only a handful of times total before but never in a circumstance like this so you couldn’t help the way your grip tightened on the sheets in uncertain anticipation. George’s full lips pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder and then another to your neck as he moved closer to angle the protected head of his cock between your full cheeks, right next to where Pierre was already nestled inside you. 

“You still want this?” George asked against your sweaty skin. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “so badly.”

“Use your words.” he coaxed as he nudged the head of his dick against your asshole. 

So you repeated the words they made you say out loud in the taxi, pleading to them both with an angelic whisper, “I want you both inside me.”

“Good girl.” George praised, sliding his left hand up your back to keep you bent over top of Pierre while his other hand carefully guided his dick to press a little harder against your tight rim of muscle. 

“Slow, slow, slow.” you hurried out in a half nervous panic. 

“Shh, I know.” he cooed easily as he started to push inside you the slightest amount, “I got you.”

“Look at me.” Pierre spoke from below you, urging your eyes to lock on his again, “There you are.”

He reached a hand up to set on the back of your neck to bring your forehead down to his, keeping you close with your eye contact unbreaking, giving you that slight distraction as George pushed inside you slowly. 

“You’re such a good fucking girl.” he spoke right to your face in a hushed tone, his voice laced with warm heavenly lust as you stared into his comforting blue eyes, “Our perfect fucking cockslut so willing to take both of us at the same time.”

“Mhm.” you whimpered out, trying to breathe through the aching stretch that radiated over your hips and deep inside you. 

“Gonna feel so fucking good. We’re gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

George gave your hips a gentle squeeze as he held you in place, “This okay?”

“Yeah.” you squeaked out. 

“Can you take more?”

“Gimme it all.” you answered easily. 

The two men chuckled warmly at your quick reply and George kept pushing into you, watching how your incredibly tight body took him in so snugly. His own warm groan was igniting, his large hand kneading the flesh of your hips as he eased deeper into you.

“There you go, that’s our girl.” Pierre cooed up at you, scratching his fingers along your hairline at the nape of your neck.

George added, “Just want every last inch so you’re completely fucking stuffed with dick.”

“I love it.” you blurted out shakily in reply. 

“Yeah?” Pierre licked away his cocky smile as he slid his hand from the back of your neck to wrap his fingers around your throat instead, “Fucking slut.”

Then, he gently pushed you away from him with that hand around your neck and eased you up into more of a sitting position on top of him but neither of you broke your intense eye contact. The slight shift had the both of them pushing against all the right spots inside you and your mouth fell open faintly with a soft moan, eyebrows furrowing, shifting ever so slightly in place to feel the heat of that strong pressure that burned within you. With your palms anchored on Pierre’s bare chest, you took a second to familiarize yourself with the newfound position and George’s tender hand draped your frazzled hair over one shoulder. 

“How’s that feel?” George asked from behind you, his warm breath fanning across your neck. 

“Mm,” you leaned back into him slightly and his lips pressed a slow open mouthed kiss to your shoulder as you kept your attention on the warm snug fullness from the both of them, “so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” George’s hand slid around your waist to dip down and gently caress your clit, urging your body to shutter under his ghostly touch. 

“This what you wanted?” Pierre taunted, tightening his hand around your throat. 

“Fuck yeah.” you exhaled, already starting to try and move on the both of them despite the scrunch of your nose at the intense stretch that radiated across your hips and deep inside you. Slowly and steadily, the initial discomfort eased into pure pleasure and as the seconds passed, your cautious movements could shift into needier rocks of your hips back onto the both of them with your nails pressing into Pierre’s pecs beneath you, scratching through the faint hair. 

“Good girl.” they both said at the same time. Despite their simultaneous praise, their attention was too focused on you to really notice or care, falling into the pleasurable sensations themselves of not only getting the privilege to feel you, but the added snugness that came with the second individual nestled inside you alongside themselves. 

George started to meet your motions on his own too, giving you gentle thrusts to ease you open a little more, keeping his slender fingers petting your clit in lazy circles to keep you distracted from any possible soreness. His lips were nearly magnetized to your neck and shoulder and his warm breath and soft groans of his own fanned across your skin and rose shivers in his wake, the sensations only made more intense by the way Pierre’s hand gripped the sides of your neck. You couldn’t help the pleading whine that fell from your lips as you rode both of them at the same time, taking your hands from Pierre’s chest to move to your own and you squeezed and pinched your breasts in your palms just to add yet another point of contact to your overwhelmed body. 

Pierre’s hand moved from your neck just long enough to give your cheek a sharp slap and your gasp took even you by surprise, only making him hit you again while his other hand squeezed your doughy hip as if to tug you back and forth on his lap with more intensity. The two of them sounded heavenly with their harmonious moans and panted breaths of their own, the two bringing music to your ears as you made them feel as good as they did to you. The world was hazy as you surrounded yourself with their pleasure, encouraging them with a messy tumble of whimpers from your swollen parted lips into the warm air of your bedroom. 

Once Pierre grabbed hold of your waist and started to nudge his hips up into you again, your hands dropped down to his chest to ground yourself, gasping out a pleading chant of, “Please, please, please, please-”

George grabbed a snug handful of your hair, mocking you warmly, “Please, please, please, please, what?” 

Pierre was right on his side with a taunting, “Want us to fuck you harder?” 

You nodded quickly, your messy curls falling over your face, “Uh huh.”

“Say it.” Pierre demanded without tearing his eyes away from your flushed face. 

George backed him up with ease, insisting to you firmly, “Say it. Use your fucking words and tell us what you want.”

You whimpered in reply, trying to arrange words in your head first to try and piece together a logical sentence before you stumbled out some slurred plea of, “Please fuck me harder. Please gimme more.”

“That’s my good girl.” Pierre praised up at you through his teeth, his hands tightening on your waist as he shoved up into you a little more, forcing a gasp from your chest. 

George took his hand from your hair to reach down to grab a handful of your ass and he pried at your flesh to open you up a little more without faltering his thrusts, permitting himself deeper as he gave you harder longer strokes that halted your air in your lungs for a moment. With his other hand, he smacked his palm down hard against your other cheek which triggered you to inhale sharply and your nails dug down into Pierre’s chest. 

“Yes!” you squealed, “Yes, yes - fuck!” 

With his feet anchored on the bed, Pierre kept his shallow thrusts up into you and shifted his hands so one was resting around your back and the other was pressing the heel of his palm into your lower stomach. The warm, tingling pressure it pushed through your insides literally had your eyes rolling and your toes curling and the lewd sounds that tumbled from your lips were completely involuntary. 

George suddenly grasped your arms and yanked them back, taking your hands from Pierre’s chest so he could straighten you up a little more and securely hold you in place. You never complained when they moved you however they wanted - well, most times - and this was no different since you had waited so long to be able to experience the both of them at the same time. You would gladly submit to either. 

With George’s tight grip on your biceps to secure your arms back, keeping you right up straight against his chest, and Pierre’s palm still pressing into your abdomen, you swore you were getting dizzy with it all. In fact, Pierre was witness to the glossiness of your expression and the withering expression that smeared across your face despite the sweetest sounds that you made for them. 

“Holy shit.” Pierre groaned through his firm focus to keep thrusting up into you. 

“You take it so fucking well.” George spoke lowly against your ear through his panted breaths, shooting shivers down your spine by the way his accent was thick with lust. His caramel skin pressed stickily to yours, entangled limbs of sweat and heat, his fingertips pressing indentations into your rouged flesh as his hips collided with your ass over and over again. It was a dreamy haze and you nearly felt out-of-body. 

Words had abandoned you in exchange for a mumbling, gasping, mess of whimpers and moans as the two men had their way with you. George shifted behind you slightly to get one foot flat on the bed for a better angle, letting your arms go so he could grab your hips again, and his thrusts were strong and deep and at such a pace that left you nearly drooling. With your arms free, you fell forward onto your hands again, pressing your palms flat onto the mattress on either side of Pierre’s head, arching your back a little more to keep the both of them hitting just the right spots. 

Pierre’s mouth wrapped around one of your nipples as you leaned over him and he toyed with it between tongue and teeth, moaning against your breast from beneath you. He grabbed your ass in two large handfuls to keep you spread for the both of them and you ended up slumping from hands to elbows on top of him. As the two of them worked to build that coiling pleasure within you, your pitchy moans were melting right into Pierre’s neck as you wrapped your arms around his head in desperate need to cling onto something. 

“That’s it, cherié.” Pierre cooed against your ear, smacking his hand down hard against your ass, “Give it up for us.”

You sunk your teeth down into his toned shoulder, smothering you uncontrollable noises as they both fucked you from either side, keeping you rightfully in the middle of them. George’s hands pressed into the small of your back to keep you ached just enough to keep them in all the right places and you were nearly sobbing into Pierre’s neck. 

“You gonna cum for us, gorgeous?” George taunted breathily. 

“Yes, sir.” you replied squeakily, knowing if you didn’t use your words they would make you waste more time by trying again. Instead, you force your nonsensical brain to try and piece together as many pleas as you could, mumbling your words into Pierre’s neck, “I’m gonna cum so fucking hard for you. Please, please, please don’t stop!”

“Is our good fucking girl gonna cum on both of us?” Pierre egged you on against your ear, his voice strained slightly as he kept the effort up to keep thrusting up into you. 

“Yeah, she is.” George continued, keeping a stone grip on your hips so he was nearly yanking you back into his thrusts, “Come on, baby. Come on.”

Arms wrapped entirely around Pierre’s head, you were a squealing mess against his neck with your teeth leaving indentations in his skin and a slick shimmer of your spit behind, rushing out a pitchy chant as you grew closer and closer exponentially, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Fils de pute, you’re getting so tight-” Pierre said through his teeth, not slowing down for a second, “Let it out for us. Come on.” 

As it reached that impossible precipice, your entire body tensed right up and you flew one hand out to slam flat against your headboard with a silent gape into Pierre’s neck. Your body shuddered violently between them, letting the intense waves of pleasure overtake you until your vision went spotted for a few seconds and the ringing in your ears had the world falling away. They had you quite literally vibrating with euphoria and as your senses came back, you gasped through your orgasm with a quivering moan that nearly echoed between your bedroom walls. 

“Good girl!” George praised loudly from behind you, still keeping his pace going despite the way your legs were quivering. 

“Putain.” Pierre groaned sharply and pulled his hands back from your ass to push at your hips. 

You barely had a second to get your senses back before George was following Pierre’s lead and pulling out so they could flip you right over onto your back against your bed. Panting and shuttering, the moans that fell from your lips were warm and full of bliss and as you blinked yourself back into reality, you watched them both come up on either side of you on their knees. Condoms off and their dicks in your face, you habitually opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, blindly grasping onto their thighs on either side of your head as they finished themselves off too. 

“Look at you.” Pierre groaned behind the slick sound of his hand pumping his cock, “So fucking ready for it.”

“Want our cum all over your fucking face?” George taunted, his motions mirroring Pierre’s on your other side. “Our gorgeous fucking cumslut.”

You nodded dumbly, scrunching your eyes shut in anticipation, clenching your trembling thighs together from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm only made worse by the sight of both of them directly above you like that. Mere moments later, Pierre was coming first by only a second or two, the first thick spurt landing right across your tongue as he moaned prettily through your bedroom. George matched his timing almost perfectly, sharing in the privilege of streaking your face in thick shots of white, a few reaching up to your messy hair and almost getting in your eye. 

There was so much of it from the both of them combined that you were almost covered in it but that fact just brought a grin to your face, keeping your eyes closed as you blindly wrapped your hands around their dicks and guided them into your mouth one at a time to lick clean. One of them had his hand in your hair, both of them moaning and panting handsomely, praising you honestly, touching you all they could as you tended to them generously. The other smeared his hand through the mess across your face and then shoved his fingers in your open mouth to make more of a mess of both cum and spit and then slapped his hand down hard against your cheek. 

“Holy fuck.” you giggled. 

“Stay there.” Pierre said before shifting slightly from his spot beside you. 

You couldn’t open your eyes given the amount of cum that was streaked across your face and over your closed eyes but you trusted them. The click of your camera shutter gave his idea away and you held your hands in front of your face with a bashful laugh. 

“Pierre.” you scolded lightheartedly. 

“What? You look incredible.” he protested. 

“Really, really sexy.” George agreed before adding, “Was this all that you wanted?”

“Yeah.” you smiled, licking your lips from the salty substance that they claimed you in. 

George's gentle hand then touched your face, a start comparison to the roughness from the rest of the evening, and he started to wipe your face with a tissue, “Here you go.”

“What a gentleman.” you giggled, although you took the tissue from him to do it yourself. 

Pierre set the camera and developing polaroid on your bedside table before slumping back against your headboard with a heavy sigh, draping his arm above his head as he watched you clean yourself up a little. You tossed the soiled tissue in the general direction of your trash can, too in need of a breather at that moment to care if it made it in on the first try. Pierre then reached back over to your bedside table and opened the drawer to pull out the box of cigarettes that was kept inside just for moments of drop-off ecstasy like this. He set one between his lips and then grabbed your lighter to light up before tossing the box and lighter towards George who was resting beside you with an expectant outstretched hand. 

As you were laid diagonally across your bed, you let Pierre pull your feet across his lap as he rested back against the pillows and headboard with his cigarette and he gave your calves a tender squeeze, sending you a little wink. George first set a cigarette between your lips for you and as you framed it between middle and forefinger, he lit it for you too. You tucked a hand behind your head as you took your first drag and let the nicotine relax your buzzing pleasure sensors, blowing out the first puff towards the ceiling. 

Silence lingered for a moment as the three of you came down from the euphoria of the night, each sharing in the guilty pleasures of a cigarette after sex and the lingering sensation of satisfaction that it brought. Pierre’s hand caressed your shin absentmindedly and George was resting back on his arm beside you, lost in your profile through the haze of smoke that surrounded you. 

“Well,” you broke the silence first, pursing your lips to blow another stream of smoke towards the ceiling with the cigarette balanced between your fingers, “that was the most incredible thing that I’ve ever done.”

Pierre chuckled warmly from the opposite side of the bed, “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

George just let a faint smirk prick at his lips as he took another drag of his cigarette. With the dart between his slender fingers, he leaned down towards you to kiss your cheek and then your temple and then you turned your face to welcome a quick kiss to your lips. 

“Feeling okay?” he asked. 

“Mhm.” you pushed yourself up into a sitting position with your cigarette balanced between your lips and you reached a hand down to slide your fingers between your legs, smearing through the slick wetness that you were covered in right down to your thighs and over your aching muscles. 

“Sore?” Pierre asked. 

“Yeah.” you smiled over at him and plucked your cigarette from between your lips as you rested back on your other hand. “In a good way though.” 

His eyes flicked across your naked body as he pulled another drag from his cigarette before warning you lightly, “If you don’t close your legs I might end up going down on you right now.”

You shut your legs with a soft giggle, knowing you were way too sensitive to even risk another faint touch from either of them. George’s lips met your neck again, kissing down over your shoulder, and as the shivers he left tore down your spine, you curled away from him with a giggle and flopped into Pierre’s side instead. 

“So fucking sensitive, aren’t you?” George chuckled. 

“You two did a number on me.” you protested matter-of-factly as Pierre’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you into him with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

George leaned over you two with one last puff of his cigarette before he was stamping it out on the saucer on your bedside table and left it there so he could have both hands free to tend to your feet in tender rubs. You smiled at him through your own cigarette, lifting your right foot up to help him get a better grip and he pressed his thumbs into the sole of your foot before pushing them up and outwards firmly. Your soft hum of appreciation was taken by Pierre’s lips on your cheek and he peppered a few chasté kisses across your rouged face as you stayed tucked up under his arm. The three of you were all still completely naked but after the escapades of the night, it was nothing you hadn’t all seen before and your attention was more focused on smoking and relaxing than anything else of salacious sustenance. 

Pierre put out his cigarette on the small saucer beside your bed too before he was looking back over to you and gently turning your head by a finger against your chin so he could kiss you properly. You only shared a few single kisses like that - far too tired out for anything more - and he left one more to your temple as you broke away and settled into his side again with a content sigh. George’s eyes were all on you as he kept massaging your feet generously and soon slid his warm palms up your shins and back down along your calves. 

“You’re an angel.” you spoke to him sweetly. 

“Anything for my best pal.” he winked. 

“Best pal that you just fucked up the ass.” you teased, “You do that with Mansell too?”

George scoffed in disgust at the mention of his much older Williams teammate with a, “Very funny.”

You giggled and gave him a gentle nudge with your foot against his chest. Then, you were passing over your burnt out cigarette to Pierre and he took the hint to stamp it out for you too. You thanked him with a fleeting kiss to his cheek before you were shifting out of his arms and getting up to climb off the bed with an announcement that you were going to the bathroom to clean up, stepping over the multiple discarded and well used condoms that littered the floor.

After a quick pee and sufficient time spent with one foot up on the counter and a damp cloth between your legs, you declared yourself tidied up and you emerged from your small bathroom and took the few short steps back into your bedroom. The two young men were back in their underwear and the condoms that had once scattered the floor along with their wrappers were nowhere to be seen. Your clothes were gathered and folded on your dresser in three neat piles and as Pierre arranged your bedside table and the polaroid pictures, George was distracted at your desk rifling through your few magazines. 

You smiled fondly at the scene and returned to your bed on which your once messy sheets were pulled somewhat neater, “Wow, you two are the full package - incredible lovers and you clean my room for me. Wanna move in?” 

“What, like some weird polyamorous throuple?” Pierre snorted before tossing the polaroids in your direction as he changed the subject, “Check these out.”

You gathered the four small pictures from the bed and glanced over each of them and how they had captured your night in the filthiest of ways, to be permanently saved as a physical memory. As you did, Pierre excused himself to get you some water and take his turn in the bathroom. 

From across your modest room, George spoke up with a magazine in hand and a proud smile, “You have my front cover issue.”

“Of course I do.” you boasted with a grin. 

He looked back down at the Motor Racing magazine that housed an on-track shot of his Williams race car in vibrant blue, yellow, and white, donning the crisp number 63 on the front in bold type. The subheading on the cover read George Russell; Williams Rookie Wins in Austria. 

Pulling him from his moment of reflection, you looked back down at the polaroids, “These are really fucking hot, Georgie. Come see.”

He set the magazine back down on your desk and strode over to your bed to join you, perching himself on the edge and he leaned in towards the middle to see the collection of tiny photographs spread out in front of you. Licking his lips at the sight that each frame held, he pressed his finger to one of them, “That’s my favourite.”

“Because I’m looking back at you like I’m straight out of fucking Playboy.” you snorted.

“Yeah? So what? I like it when you look at me like that.” he boasted with a shrug. 

When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you, only a few short inches away from your face and under his stare you licked away your bashful smile and looked back down to the pictures. But then, you were reaching out a hand to set on George’s arm, looking at him again in realization of what you had forgotten to ask when you first met up that night, “How was Silverstone?”

“It was fine.” George shifted in place to tuck his legs up on the mattress so he could sit more comfortably on your bed beside you, resting a hand behind you so he was still turned to face your direction slightly, “Had high hopes starting on pole today but had a shit start and I ended up retiring with a broken exhaust. Nigel was out too: clutch failure. Prost won.”

“I’m sorry.”

George shrugged, “Ah well. There’s always the next race.”

“You’ll get it. No doubt in my mind.”

You shared small smiles and then he leaned in to kiss your lips once. 

“Listen,” he cleared his throat a moment, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nodded him on, suddenly feeling a little silly being completely naked in front of him when his tone shifted into something serious sounding. 

George set his free hand on your thigh, gently caressing your warm skin with his calloused thumb as he stared right into your eyes as he spoke his peace in a quiet voice, “I know that everything is hectic with my schedule and how I’m always traveling for races but I wanted to clear the air with you before I leave for Germany next week. I was wondering if we could kinda make this exclusive from now on?”

“This?” you questioned dumbly. “Yeah, you and me.” he went on, “You think I have all these girls but I really don’t. I don’t really have time for all that between traveling and training and races and whatnot. Honestly, you’re the only girl I’ve been seeing for a little while now and I don’t want that to stop but…I wanted to see if you were on the same page. I feel like after tonight, now is the right time to bring this up.”

Your mouth moulded into a small ‘o’ as you tried to process what he was saying and think of what you wanted to reply with. What he was pitching was big news and felt heavy on your mind. You were so incredibly into him but was going exclusive what you wanted? 

As if sensing your surprise and your hesitation, George gave your knee a reassuring squeeze, “You don’t have to answer right now. Just think about it and let me know, okay?”

You pulled a small smile and nodded. When he leaned in briefly, you accepted his quick kiss, just as Pierre returned, re-dressed, with a full glass of water for you. 

“There you are.” he said gently, passing the glass into your hand.

“Thank you.” you replied in a whisper, offering him a brief smile before taking a sip of water to moisten your suddenly incredibly dry mouth. 

George gave your thigh another squeeze before he was getting up, excusing himself to the bathroom too. You watched him leave and then let out a breath, worried to make one wrong move and blow up the two entirely fragile relationships you had going on with the both of them. Maybe bringing them into awareness of each other wasn’t the best idea…that realization was starting to settle over your conscience. 

“Did you want to get dressed?” Pierre asked you, “You might start getting cold.”

“Yeah, good idea.” you stacked the polaroids up and leaned over to set them and your glass of water on your bedside table but he was already a step ahead of you and brought over your underwear and a shirt for you to put on. You thanked him softly and shifted onto your knees on the bed to quickly dress. 

Standing beside you, watching, Pierre took that opportunity of momentary privacy to say his peace too, “So I’ve been thinking…”

Pausing with your head half in your shirt, you felt yourself tense, “Uh huh?”

“What do you think about doing this…you and me thing…exclusively?” 

Oh for fucks sake.

You tugged your shirt on all the way and then flopped onto your bum and rested back against the pillows and headboard with a sigh and a furrowed brow.

“Before you say no,” Pierre sat on the side of the bed, fiddling with his hands, “I know I’m no internationally known Formula 1 driver but I think what you and I have is really special. It can’t be something we just…ignore.”

It wasn’t often that Pierre got nervous - he was always so cool and collected and had a smooth wit about him that gave the impression that he knew he was above everyone else without being conceded. Maybe it was a little cute. But you just shook your head in amusement and then set your palms over your face. 

“I dunno.” you mumbled into your hands. “Do you need an answer now?”

“No. No, of course not.” he promised, “You have my number. You can let me know whenever. I’m not going anywhere.”

You dropped your hands to your lap with a sigh, “Okay.” 

He reached over and set his hand on your two and leaned in for a few quick kisses to your lips and one more to your nose before sitting back again, “Okay.”

“I’m just really tired.” you mumbled, “I don’t trust my brain to make any logical decisions right now.”

“That’s okay.” Pierre gave your hand a squeeze. 

“That’s partially your fault anyway.” you whispered.

His smile only widened and he scoffed playfully, “Well, I hope so. My job is not done until you’re nearly bedridden.”

“Okay.” you laughed lightly, “Cocky.”

Pierre just leaned in and pressed his smiling lips to yours, sharing a few quick kisses with you that made your stomach flip-flop. You raised a hand up to slide around the back of his neck and he dipped his face into your neck to kiss up under your ear, making you shiver and raise your shoulder up with a giggle. He nipped at your earlobe and then sat back again to look at you properly, taking a second to brush your frazzled hair out of your face as he stared at you for a moment. 

Just then, George was returning to your room in his plaid slacks back on and his fingers working on the buttons of his white collared shirt, announcing a casual, “I should go.” 

You knew he should too but part of you sank at his simple statement, possibly not wanting to admit that the night was over. You simply mumbled, “Yeah. It’s late.”

Pierre stood up from the side of your bed just so they could switch places. George leaned down to give you a quick kiss, “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

You nodded. 

He kissed your cheek before whispering against the shell of your ear, “Tonight was fucking incredible. You were fucking incredible.” 

You pushed your hand against his chest with a tisk, “Get the fuck outta here.”

George took a step back again, finishing buttoning his shirt. From your spot on your bed, you watched as he and Pierre shared casual pleasantries along the lines of ‘nice to meet you’ and ‘have a good rest of your night’ over another handshake. Then, George was gone and you listened for the sound of your apartment door closing and you distracted the slight emptiness within you with your eyes following Pierre around your room. 

But as you sat there for a few seconds, ignorant to whatever Pierre had just said to you casually, that heaviness inside you only grew larger until you were blinking back tears. Swearing under your breath, you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes and tried to calm yourself down and pull yourself out of this silly momentary depression. Pierre’s warm hand on your wrist guided your hands away from your face and you were met with his worried expression, concern filling his sweet blue eyes.

“Hey,” he cooed, “what’s wrong?”

“Can you go get him?” you asked shakily, letting your request tumble from your lips without realization from your brain that it was something that was on your mind, “Don’t let him leave yet.”

Pierre didn’t even reply before he was hurrying out of your room and across your modest apartment and you heard the sound of the front door open but not close. Embarrassed, you hid your face in your hands again with your knees curled up to your face in the centre of your bed, only privy to the faint muffled voices from the general direction of the hallway. Then, you heard the front door shut and two pairs of feet were hurrying across your floorboards and then the mattress dipped on either side of you as you were framed by the two young men.

“We’re here.” George said softly, rubbing his hand over your back, “What’s going on?”

You sniffled into your hands, “I dunno, I just got really sad, I’m sorry.”

Pierre petted your hair and he promised you, “You don’t have to say sorry.”

“That’s my fault.” George said to you, “I shouldn’t have just rushed out of here until I knew you were okay. Not after such a crazy night.”

You nodded with a tremble to your bottom lip and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder to guide you in so he could kiss your temple. You kept your hands over your face even as he held you under his arm for a moment and Pierre shuffled closer on your other side to keep you equally comforted and warm. 

“Can you both stay tonight?” you asked ever so softly, almost unintelligible. 

“Yeah.” Pierre agreed easily, “Of course.”

“Sure, we can.” George answered at the same time. 

“We don’t do this.” you sniffled as you stated the obvious fact that came with your no-strings-attached relationships with the both of them. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Pierre kissed your head. 

“We’re not going to just leave you like this simply because spending the night is something we don’t often do.” George said with his hand rubbing over your arm as you shivered in only your thin t-shirt. 

“Let’s warm you up.” Pierre shifted away from you and started to pull back the sheets of your bed. 

George got up too to help you get under the blankets and tuck them up around you as you rested back against the headboard and then he was unbuttoning his shirt again and dropping it to the floor. Pierre dropped his jeans too and then joined you under the covers, right away swallowing you up in his arms as you shivered slightly and blinked away your tears. When George joined you in bed too, he brought with him your water glass that had been left on your bedside table earlier and he carefully held it for you to help you sip a little more. 

“Good girl.” Pierre whispered as you drank your water. “Finish that up for us.”

You took the glass from George to finish it yourself and when it was empty, he set it back on your bedside table for you. Despite the lack of words you had to fill the silent air time, your mind was whirling a mile a minute and especially surrounding the conversations that both men had with you back to back about what they wanted your situation to look like moving forward. If nothing else, this drop you were experiencing and the necessary care they knew to give you only made things feel much more complicated. 

But then you were sinking under the blankets until Pierre could tuck them right up to your chin and you turned to curl yourself into George’s side, wrapping your arm around his middle and resting your head on his chest. He slid his arm around you too so you were snuggled close and he kissed your forehead, making sure you were comfortable there and sufficiently wrapped up in limbs and blankets. Pierre scooted right up beside you and brushed your hair from your face gently, lulling you to sleep quickly in the safety that the both of them brought to you. 

The haze of the morning settled over your consciousness as you blinked yourself awake in the comforting familiarity of your bedroom. Your aching body had you wincing slightly as you roused and you shifted to stretch out the soreness in your muscles despite the arm that laid heavily around your middle. You glanced over to see Pierre still fast asleep beside you, breathing calmly, long lashes resting on pink cheeks, and his permed brunette hair in a wild mess atop his head. 

You sniffled casually as your stuffy nose was a reminder of your few tears shed the night before and the stinging of your eyes was of any indication of a hangover and the remanence of your momentary wallows in the middle of the night. Pressing the heel of your palm to one of your eyes, you winced through the discomfort that the morning brought and tried to piece together any recollection of what exactly had happened. The smell of bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen certainly helped as it solved the mystery as to where your third member had disappeared to and that and the promise of painkillers helped to lure you out of bed.

Moving slowly so as to not wake Pierre, you made sure he was tucked back under the sheets before you slid into your slippers and pulled George’s oversized plaid jacket on to keep yourself warm within the air conditioned apartment and your limited clothing. Sure enough, George was in the kitchen cheffing away at the stove in only his boxers with your boom box radio playing quietly from the corner of the counter. He was whistling along to the pop songs as he tended to the sizzling bacon in the pan. 

The creak of the floor boards under your feet had him glancing over with that handsome smile and with the spatula in hand, he came over to greet you with a kiss to your cheek and a friendly, “Morning.”

“Good morning.” you replied quietly as you leaned against the counter and watched him return to the stove. 

“Feeling better?” he asked. 

“Yeah, emotionally.” you answered, “Thanks for staying. I know it was kinda weird…especially with three of us sharing the bed.”

“Nah, no need to apologize.” George assured you with a quick glance, “I’d never give up a night with you, no matter how many times I was pushed off the bed last night.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, “Did I kick you off?”

George laughed, “Only once or twice. There wasn’t much room…but that’s okay. As long as you slept well and are feeling more yourself this morning.”

“Just a hangover…and I’m a little sore.” you confessed and slid over to him at the stove, wrapping your arm around his bicep to whisper against his shoulder, “My ass hurts like a bitch.”

He licked away the smirk that played at his lips and he glanced over at you, “That’s too bad.”

You gave his arm a squeeze, “No hangover for you?”

“A small one…just powering through to make you a hearty breakfast.” he said as he looked back at the pan, carefully nudging the bacon around in the crackling grease. Then, he gestured towards the coffee pot, “Coffee is fresh too, if you want some. Helps take the edge off.”

“Thanks.” you sighed in relief and poured yourself a half cup in your favourite mug. 

“I gotta say, you’re quite the looker in that suit.” George complimented. 

You did a little spin in his plaid jacket, the lengthy tails whooshing out from your legs slightly, “Why thank you.”

“I was just wondering if it looks as ridiculous on me as it does on you.” 

“Oh, no.” you answered smoothly, “It looks far better on me.”

George sent you a pointed glare, “Ha, ha.”

You just hid your smile behind a sip of hot coffee and rested back against the counter nearby, giving him his space but still lingering close to get that fix of affection and attention you craved. It was so domestic and lovely and the back of your mind played your brief conversation from the night before on repeat, knowing that George was leaning more towards the concept of having you to himself. It didn’t necessarily mean to be his girlfriend but it was certainly a step towards that direction and you hadn’t given that concept any prior thought. 

But Pierre was in the same boat and you couldn’t imagine yourself just cutting him out that easily either. He was also incredibly special to you and you had a connection with him that was just as strong and passionate as the one you had with George. Oh, you were too hungover for this crossroads. You took another lengthy sip of your coffee. 

The creak of the floorboards had you looking over to Pierre emerging from your bedroom looking like he had seen better days. His hair looked like he had been struck by lightning and the alcohol-induced bags under his eyes were only made worse from the lack of sleep and when he rubbed at them, it just made his eyes red. But the sight of him still made you grin and you greeted him with a sweet good morning just like you had with George moments before. 

“Morning.” Pierre replied gruffly, slumping forward over the other side of the island from you, “I have a wicked hangover this morning.”

You offered out your mug, “Coffee?”

“Thanks.” he mumbled and took the mug from you for a small sip.

You left him with that mug to go pour yourself a new one from the coffee pot on the counter before returning to the peninsula counter. 

Pierre reached across the counter to tug at the sleeve of the plaid jacket you wore, earning your attention again, “How are you feeling this morning, cherié?” 

You smiled over at him, “Better. Thank you for staying.”

“Of course.” 

George began to plate the breakfast and, as he did, he spoke to the both of you, “So I brought in the paper this morning and there was a cover story that you might want to take a look at.”

You and Pierre exchanged slightly confused expressions but George gestured over to the table where the morning paper was waiting and the two of you walked over to lean over top of it and read the headlines. The one that caught your eye first only did so because of the large paparazzi photograph of George entering the club in his freshly ironed plaid suit and large framed sunglasses,

Formula 1: Russell bandages Silverstone DNF with menage et toi

“Holy shit.” you gaped, setting your mug down on the table a little too hard in exchange for the paper in your hands to get a closer look. 

Pierre, with furrowed brows, leaned over your shoulder to keep reading too, slowly vocalizing only the key few lines from the article printed in the fresh ink letters from that morning’s paper, “An anonymous source reported that Russell and his two companions were seen entering a taxi together where lewd touching and saucy whispers were shared in the backseat.”

George set the breakfast plates down on the table for the three of you as if unbothered by the public humiliation that came with the British tabloids slandering his image on the front page of the paper. He wiped his hands on the tea towel that was draped over his shoulder, watching the both of you for any sort of reaction as the three of you sat around the table. Pierre just kept re-reading and you finally looked up at him with an expression of absolute bafflement. 

“It’s gotta be the taxi driver.” Pierre scoffed, “Who else would have known what was going on in the backseat? Fucking pervert.” 

“This is bad, Georgie.” you insisted. 

“Nah,” he exhaled, “it’s just another dig that the tabloids publish about me. I’m just used to it now. Half of the things they write are complete ludacris anyway so what’s one more crazy story…if anything it keeps my name current.”

“It’s not fair on you.” you pressed.

“No, but what can you do? They’re going to say whatever they want. I’ve learned you just gotta deal with it and let it roll off your back. I’m more worried about what you two think.”

“I mean…it’s really weird knowing that this is about me. But they don’t have my picture or name so I don’t care, really.” Pierre shrugged, “Otherwise I’d be worried about my boss seeing.”

They both looked at you for your response next. 

You took a second to comprehend it all - the first time you were mentioned on the front page of the newspaper. Of course, it wasn’t by name or with a picture but you knew it was about you and it was a strange feeling; some sort of mix of embarrassment and pride. Hiding your face behind the newspaper, you attempted to hide your giggle but of course the guys saw right through you. 

Pierre snatched it out of your hand, “What are you laughing at, huh?”

“I’m mentioned on the front page of the newspaper like a real little motorsport groupie.” you beamed cheekily, wrapping yourself up in the excess fabric of George’s jacket you still wore. 

“For the last time: you’re not a groupie.” George tisked. 

“Well,” Pierre argued lightly in response, “what else would you call a slut who giggles excitedly at public attention like this?”

You grabbed the newspaper right out of Pierre’s hand just to smack him over the head with it in retaliation. George just chuckled into his bite of bacon.

The three of you eating breakfast together felt weirdly normal, as if you all had been friends for ages and that you weren’t in some weird friends-with-benefits situation with the both of them. As you ate and conversation flowed, you couldn’t help but see further intentions behind each of their actions or their words, trying to ignore their ulterior motives stemming from their individual pitches to you from the night before. You brushed the thoughts aside and tried to convince yourself that maybe they were just drunk and they didn’t even recall asking you to be exclusive. Maybe if you never spoke of it again it would just go away and life would continue on as is. You liked it as is.

When breakfast was done and the three of you shared the responsibility of cleaning up the kitchen, the natural progression of the late morning meant they would have to start to head out; George’s parents would be wondering where he was - he reminded you with an eye roll - and Pierre said he had an appointment at the bank to make. So they got dressed and you reluctantly gave George back his jacket and you stood with them in the foyer as they got their shoes back on and were ready for goodbyes. 

In only slip-on loafers, George was ready to go first and he stepped over to you to set a hand on your waist and he leaned in to kiss your cheek and then your lips before whispering just quiet enough for only you to hear, “Think about what I said, okay?”

The reminder of your conversation from the night before had your heart in your throat and you nodded dumbly in reply, earning another quick kiss. Then he was switching spots with Pierre who wrapped you up tightly in his arms for a squeezy hug that forced a breathy laugh out of you. 

“I will call you later.” he promised against your ear, “We should talk about what I mentioned last night.”

You clutched onto the back of his jacket for a second longer with your eyes scrunched shut as if in disbelieving frustration. But then he was pulling out of your embrace so he could slide his hand around the side of your neck so he could guide you in to give you a few quick kisses. 

Swaying the subject, you directed to the both of them as you followed them to the door, “Thank you for an amazing night.”

“Thank you for being such a gracious host.” George said lightheartedly in reply, stepping out into the hallway of your building. 

“Oh, any time.” you gushed with a casual lean against your door frame. 

Pierre laughed with a shake of his head and looked at George beside him, “We really just have great taste in women, don’t we?”

And, as if having known each other for years, George gave Pierre’s shoulder a friendly pat as they headed in the direction of the elevator together, “Indisputably.”

Some more pics that fit the vibes but didn't make the title images:

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[eddiazx]

benefit part 2 - evan buckley x reader

part 1 here!

Buck wakes up with his nose pressed against your hair. You’ve slept at Buck’s multiple times, even shared beds once or twice, but he never realized just how clingy you are in your sleep. Half your body is on top of his: your head is tucked underneath his chin, your arm is splayed out over his bare torso, and your right leg is hooked over his left thigh, knee brushing up against his morning wood.

Buck likes this. The domesticity, the smell of you, your warmth; Buck could get used to waking up this way all the time.

Except, he thinks soberly, that’s not what the two of you had agreed on. This was supposed to be just sex. But Buck has come to the belated realization that it could never be just anything with you.

“Buck? You awake yet?”, Eddie’s voice comes ringing through the loft from his front door. Buck’s eyes widen; he had completely forgotten that he made plans to get breakfast with him that morning. He looks at you, who had woken up to the sound. With an impressive quickness, you roll off and drop down soundlessly to hide under the bed in all your naked glory. Buck would have busted out laughing if he wasn’t so scared that Eddie was going to catch the two of you together. Neither of you would hear the end of it if the rest of the team found out about your little arrangement.

Eddie makes his way up the loft stairs and gives Buck an unimpressed look over at his sleepy, shirtless form. Buck had had the sense to throw the covers over his legs to avoid flashing Eddie.

“Hey Eds”, Buck smiles weakly.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. You able to get ready in 5, at least? I’m craving that breakfast burrito from Joe’s.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Just…go watch TV and I’ll be ready in a bit.” Buck says, desperately hoping Eddie doesn’t look too closely at the fact that your bra was on the floor in the corner of the room.

Eddie nods, before saying, “Maybe we can text Y/N if she wants to join us too.”

Buck lets out a startled cough at your name, but Eddie already has his back to him, walking down the stairs. A few moments pass until Buck hears the sounds of Brooklyn 99 playing downstairs.

Buck leans over and peers down at you. You have an amused smile on your face, but Buck can’t help but mouth, “you okay?”

You nod, and give him a thumbs up. You gesture at your phone, which Buck hands over to you. He watches as you open up your notes app and type out 'go grab breakfast, I’ll let myself out and lock the door' before showing him the text.

Buck nods and walks to the bathroom, all the while wondering what the heck he got himself into.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Eddie is talking about a project Chris has for his history class while chewing on his burrito. Buck is trying really hard to pay attention, but his brain keeps providing him with unhelpful flashes of last night. He thinks he might be hallucinating, because he can even picture you sitting down in front of him.

Wait, that’s not a hallucination, you were actually here.

“Hi guys”, you smile, swiping a potato off of Eddie’s plate and popping it into your mouth, eyes sparkly and beautiful as usual. Buck is again met with a memory of last night, when you put something of his in your mouth.

Buck shakes his head, as if he can physically clear his mind from the memory. “Uh, what’re you doing here?”

“I knew you would forget so I sent her a text to join us while you were getting ready.” Eddie responds for you.

"Right, yeah." Buck nods quickly.

Eddie and you exchange glances. Buck was acting weird, weirder than normal.

While you order and promptly delve into a conversation with Eddie, Buck considers moving to another firehouse, one where he didn't have to see and work with his best friend that he was hopelessly in love with.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"Hen, can I talk to you?", Buck stammers, when they're the only two seated at the firehouse dinner table one evening.

"Sure, what's up?" Hen asks, closing the textbook she was reading.

"I... I think I have feelings for Y/N." Buck admits.

Hen continues to stare at Buck expectantly, not a single difference showing in her face after Buck's admission. "Wait, that's it? That's not news to anybody, Buck."

Buck blinks at Hen. "What?"

"Buck, you've been gone for her since she started at the 118. You've had permanent heart eyes for that girl."

"No... we're friends! Best friends!"

Hen shoots Buck a patient look. "Chim and I are best friends, Buck. You and Y/N are in a different category entirely."

"Okay, fine, whatever. It's bad, Hen. We started sleeping with each other last week and -"

"What?!"

"She's so smart and beautiful Hen, and she makes the hottest sounds when-"

"Okay, ew."

"But she doesn't want to be in a relationship and I don't know how to act around her now that I know I have feelings for her and-"

"Alright Buck, breathe." Hen motions for Buck to inhale and exhale with her hands. Hen seems thoughtful for a second, before she asks, "how do you know she doesn't want to be in a relationship?"

"I don't think a relationship was what she had in mind. She suggested we have sex casually; that it wouldn't be weird 'cause we're friends."

"That... was a horrible idea."

Buck groans and puts his head in his hands. "Well, I know that now!"

Hen smiles softly, prying Buck's hands away to hold onto them. "Buck, we all knew that you were in love with her, but she looks at you the same way. I think you guys should talk to each other. You guys might be on the same page."

Buck looks at Hen's earnest, honest face. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he knows that he couldn't keep avoiding you or clamming up the way he did at breakfast. He needed to come clean.

And then promptly move.

[random-writer-23]

~~~18+ MDNI explicit content, predator x prey dynamic, sex in the woods, Dom! Logan, my first time writing smut *gulp*, mostly edited, I need this man so bad, pst send in a request cause my brain is empty~~~

It was one of his favorite games to play, especially on days like this when he was tired from an extra hard day at work. The game always started the same, I’m at home doing something like laundry or cleaning or whatever, today was cooking. I put the lasagna I made in the oven setting a timer to alert me when its done when my phone starts ringing where it’s laying on the table, I wipe my hands on a tea towel getting the grease off before I touch my phone, Logans name and photo flashed across the screen and I smiled answering it before going back to tidying the kitchen, clearing space on the counter so Logan and I could sit and eat when he gets home. 

“Hey baby!” I chirp, keeping the phone to my ear as I put the dirty dishes I used in the sink, thinking about how I’d make Logan wash them later. 

“I’m ten minutes away” He growls and a shiver goes down my spine, already knowing what kind of night it was going to be, “you already know the drill sweetheart” he purrs, “you have ten minutes to get changed into that lovely red dress I love so much, and find yourself a hiding spot in the woods behind the house, and you better hide well because if I catch you… you know what happens” He growls and I could hear the need, the desperation in his voice. Someone pissed him off at work and I was going to reap the benefits of it. 

“Yes sir” I respond trying to keep the smile out of my voice and he hangs up the phone. Not wanting to waste any time I jump up and scurry upstairs, changing into his favorite little red dress, the silk fabric smooth and cold against my skin. I do my hair quickly brushing it making it look nice even though it’s going to get ruined in the near future. I hurry back downstairs putting on some shoes and slipping out the door to the backyard, I set off into the woods using my phone flashlight to light the way since darkness was quickly descending, its hard traversing the woods in the dark but I’m not complaining since it makes our game so much more fun. There wasn’t a person for miles around since Logan had insisted on getting a house in the middle of nowhere, something I didn’t mind for the most part since it allowed for activities like this one, although it made trips into town a hassle. I make my way through the thick cluster of trees, hopping over branches and crunching piles of leaves beneath my feet as I run through the woods. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide from him for long, he’d be able to smell me as soon as he pulled into the driveway, especially with how wet I am at the mere thought of getting caught. I kept going for as long as I could searching for any alcove, or cave, or anywhere that could be used as a hiding spot. I trip over a small tree branch falling to the floor scrambling back to my feet as quickly as possible, I don’t even bother brushing the dirt and leaves on my knees knowing that they’re going to get twice as dirty when I get caught. I run for a little longer before finding a large tree with thick roots that form a little hiding spot. I sit down on the ground, curling up and making myself as small as possible as I hide, I turn my phone flashlight off and the darkness fully engulfs me, shivering lightly in the cold air. In the distance I hear a car door slamming shut. He’s here, I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, and I look at it, Logan's picture lighting up my screen, it was a warning call his way of telling me he’s coming for me. I turn the phone off ignoring his call, as I squeeze deeper into my hiding spot. My heart hammering in my chest and I consciously struggle to make sure I don’t move a muscle, his enhanced hearing would be able to detect even the slightest movement I make, with how hard my heart is pounding I guarantee he can hear me anyway, and if he can’t hear me he can smell me. Out of all the times we’ve played this game there’s no version where I win, his senses don’t allow it, he doesn’t allow it. And still I wait in my hiding spot, the silence so deafening it’s thrumming in my ears, in my veins, my nerves on edge, the slightest rustle of wind in the trees sending me spiraling. I can hear my heartbeat steadily thumping in my chest, so loud its drowning out other sources of Noise. I can almost sense him approaching, and It’s then I can hear his voice, humming a quiet tune to himself in the distance, the sound sends a chill down my spine, and yet I remain hidden, closing my eyes as I hear his voice get louder, he gets close enough I can hear the crunching of leaves beneath his feet. I hear his claws extend and my breath catches, he casually scratches one of the trees next to him and it cracks under the pressure of his claws, he retracts them swiftly.

“I can smell you pretty girl…. You smell so sweet” He chuckles darkly. “You can’t hide for long” He murmurs stepping on a twig letting it snap beneath his foot. “So sweet, and it’s all for me” It takes the strength of everything in me to not whimper at his words, my pussy twitching at the thought, he inhales deeply,  “Oh she likes that doesn’t she…” He chuckles, and I hear him coming closer, covering my mouth and slowing my breathing. I hear him inhale again, and I see him out the corner of my eye, I huddle up further against the tree, and he breathes again smiling as his head snaps in my direction his eyes immediately locking onto my figure hunched over on the ground, his eyes shine and he grins. “Run” He growls and I waste no time jumping up and sprinting in the opposite direction. He grunts watching my retreating figure, I don’t hear him immediately following me so I assume he’s oh so kindly giving me a head start. I sprint through the woods trying my best not to trip on any rocks or fallen branches the trees a blur as I race past. I lasted less than a minute before I could feel myself slowing down, losing my breath, I push forward hoping to catch a second wind to pull ahead but its no use as I hear him grunting and growling as he gains on me. A rush of adrenaline rushes through my veins as I speed up panting for breath, but it wears off too quickly and I fall back again. I hear him gaining on me and I scream as I feel his hands wrap around my waist tackling me to the ground, his body shifting as we fall to form a protective barrier around me, cushioning my fall, even when we play his games he always takes care of me. “Gotcha” He growls into my ear, and I shiver in his arms. I turn around in his arms so I’m straddling his lap and he grips my wrists gesturing for me to get up, and I quickly do, not wanting to frustrate him any more than he already is. He guides me over to a tree, “Bend over sweetheart, c’mon give me my prize” he purrs and I shiver again. “Honestly, did you even try, or did you want to be caught?” He chuckles darkly. 

“I tried” I whine softly and he shushes me, caressing my curves, his touch light. I didn’t try that hard to evade capture but he didn’t need to know that. 

“I’m sure you did sweetheart” He smiles, petting my head before letting his hand trail down the back of my neck and down to the base of my back, pushing lightly bending me over slightly, his hands delicately lift the fabric of my dress revealing my legs and he groans, a guttural sound that came from deep in his chest. He moves the dress up further exposing my body to his gaze, he pulls It up over my ass and he tsks. “Oh baby… panties? Really?” 

“I just thought-“ I murmur and he shushes me again. 

“You’re not supposed to think darlin’ you’re supposed to listen…” He murmurs and I shiver. I hear one of his claws come out slowly and I whine looking at him over my shoulder. “Logan.. I like these ones” I whine, feeling his claw tug at the fabric. 

“I’ll buy you new ones” He grunts tugging on the fabric and I feel it give way, and fall away from my body. He growls, leaning closer kissing my ass gently. “There she is” he rumbles, and I shiver, he swats my ass softly and I jump, “turn around darlin’, need to have a taste of my girl” he growls almost desperately, I don’t hesitate to turn around, leaning on the tree to stabilize myself, he smiles hiking my leg up over his shoulder spreading me open buffet style, he kneels in front of my burying his nose in my cunt, the tension seeping out of his body and shoulders as he breathes me in. “So pretty f’me darlin’, and you taste” He takes a deep lick sighing as he does. “You taste delicious” He groans before diving in like a man starved, his nose catching on my clit as he laps at my entrance like he needs me to survive, and knowing him I wouldn’t doubt it. He groans, mumbling incoherently against my cunt. Sweet nothings that are known only to him. I whine as he sucks only my clit lightly, my knees growing weak. His beard scratches my thighs, and he pulls his mouth away from my heat to press kisses along them, murmuring lovingly into the skin. He looks up at me, his beard glistening with my arousal and I almost cum right there at the sight of it. He chuckles gruffly at the furrow of my eyebrows, my mouth falling open as he dives back in, circling my clit with his tongue and raising his hand to bury his fingers inside me. He drives in knuckle deep watching me writhe on his fingers, his touch setting me on fire. 

“Logan m’ almost there” I whimper, my head falling back and hitting the tree behind me, I groan as he pulls his mouth away. 

“Oh no baby girl, I’m not done with you yet” he grins, driving me to the edge before ruthlessly ripping it away from me. I whine loudly as he takes a couple more deep licks, inhaling one last time before pulling himself away rising reluctantly to his feet. My gaze follows him as he rises, lowering the leg that was on his shoulder back on the floor. He trails his hands up my body as he rises, his breath fanning across my chest as he inhales growling as he kisses my neck, sucking harshly at the skin trying to leave as many markings as possible. “Mph, all mine?” He asked, groaning into my skin, and I nod in agreement. “All yours Logan” I smile as he pulls away from my neck looking me in the eyes, his gaze filled with a mix of need and love as his hand worms its way up my neck to the back of my head, cradling it as he kisses me. He pulls away abruptly, his hands going to unbuckle his belt casting it aside, as he fumbles with the buttons of his pants, and I wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer to me kissing me while letting his pants drop and pool at his ankles. He weasels his knee in between my legs spreading them for me, I whine against his mouth as he grips tight at my dress, his grip threatening to rip it. He slides the fabric up my body and taps my thighs signaling for me to jump, I do and he catches me pressing my back against the tree trapping me between his body and the rough trunk of the tree, leaving his hands free to travel my body. The fabric of my dress bunches up around my waist, and Logan pants. 

“You ready?” He huffs his muscles flexing as he holds me up against the tree guiding my legs to wrap around his waist. I nod whining in response, “thatta girl darlin’” He grunts, readjusting me slightly holding my gaze as he pushes inside me slowly, grunting the whole way in. “Oh fuck” He groans, letting his head fall back before lifting it again angling it down to watch himself slide in “Look at her welcoming me home” He chuckles gruffly his eyes transfixed on the point where our bodies meet watching his cock disappear into my wet cunt. He pulls out slightly before thrusting forward harshly, I moan into his shoulder, feeling the stretch, a low burning sensation as he slides in further, and I clench tight around him. He finds a slow rhythm thrusting into me at a leisurely pace taking his time, enjoying the sensation of my cunt hugging his cock. 

“Logan don’t tease” I whimper and he nods placatingly. 

“Okay baby, okay, I’ll be nice” He murmurs, pulling his hips back, an emptiness filling me for a split second before his hips lurch forward replacing the emptiness with him. “Like that baby?” He smiles and kisses me, I moan into the kiss, he slowly finds his rhythm pounding into me, the tree scratching up my back through my dress but I couldn’t care less, so long as he keeps going the way he is. My arms wrap around his neck clawing at his shoulder as his thrusts become harsher and more aggressive. “My perfect girl” He moans, kissing me. “Taking it so well” He teases, his lips kissing my jaw, trailing down my neck as he pauses adjusting his grip on me, his fingers digging into my thighs feeling the bruises already forming. My legs tighten around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him deeper. 

“Need more Lo” I murmur struggling to keep my head from falling back as I look at him, he presses his forehead against mine. 

“I got you baby, I’ll take care of you” He murmurs, kissing me, pausing his thrusts to caress my face, he resumes shorty thrusting slowly, deep languid strokes that leave me twitching around his cock. He reaches down, rubbing tight circles around my clit easing me closer to the edge. I gasp at the sensation, and he chuckles. My cunt spasms around his cock and he can feel I’m close, he grunts and I can tell he’s holding himself back. 

“Logan Please” I whine, pulling my hands away from his neck to hold his face in my delicate hands. He nods panting as he speeds up pistoning his cock into me. I moan loudly and he lunges forward kissing me swallowing up my moans. I feel his cock twitching inside of me and I can tell he’s close. 

“Fuck” he grunts “nearly there baby” He moans and I can feel it building in my core, I’m right there on the edge teetering, when he gives one more good thrusts pushing me over the edge, my cunt pulsing around his cock, “Oh thats it baby” he growls, “let go f’me” he whispers his breath fanning out over my ear. I whine and a wave of pleasure washes over me and I pant for breath the tension seeping out of my body as I relax in his hold, going limp in his hold my legs quivering around him. I feel his cock twitch inside me and he groans his release finding its home deep inside me. I whimper  as he falls limp against me cradling my shaking body close to his. “Oh that's it darlin’ you did such a good job for me” He kisses my head, “such a good girl f’me” he said cradling me, slowly lowering me to my feet helping me stand, my legs shaking like a baby deer learning to walk. He chuckles, and I smile tilting my chin up for a kiss, he grants my silent plea and kisses me filling it with love and passion. “I love you” I murmur against his lips. 

“I love you more” he responds, holding me tight against him. “Now…. what’s for dinner.. cause I’m starving.” And my eyes widen, in horror.

“Shit I forgot about the lasagna!” I groan, knowing it was probably burnt by now. 

“It’s alright Love, we can order something” he chuckles, kissing my hair and guiding me back to the house, his hand on the small of my back.

[judesdrabbles]

The Cure (part II)

On a snowy afternoon, your car had broken down after a therapy session with your psychiatrist. Perhaps this was the perfect moment for him to get to know you better.

PART 1 / PART 3 / PART 4

word count: 1.4K

warnings: obsessive tendencies, yandere behavior, misuse of power position

A few weeks have passed since your first appointment. Every week you step into his office, and every week, Vincent finds himself wanting more.

Why only once a week? Why not twice? Or thrice? Surely, you’d benefit from more frequent therapy sessions. Therapy was about consistency, after all. And he wouldn’t mind. Not for you, at least.

The thought gnawed at him. The thought of you. Was this professionalism? He never really cared for his patients, he didn’t care about their troubles. Their feelings were merely a two-piece puzzle for him to solve. So easy. His fingers tap rhythmically on the polished wood of his desk, a soft tune for his thoughts. His eyes flicked to the pens- his anchors- arranged in their precise formation. A neat straight line. It was perfect. Controlled.

But it wasn’t enough. When you weren’t here, the silence became unbearable. He could straighten the pens over and over again, or he could iron his suit thrice a day until every seam and every thread was laying flat and obedient beneath the iron’s weight, but it was not enough. He needed more. He needed to see you.

Even as he worked, his thoughts circled back to you. You weren’t like the bleak wallpaper in his office like he thought you would be; you were not unremarkable. You were new. A breath of fresh air.

It was just professional interest, of course. It had to be. At least, that’s what he told himself.

And then, on one snowy afternoon in the dead of winter, it seemed like his silent prayers had been answered.

You returned to his office after your session, cheeks flushed from the cold. He looked up from his desk, surprised at your reappearance.

‘Um.. Doctor, I’m sorry to bother you,’ You say hesitantly and brush the snowflakes from your hair. This was embarrassing. It was already late and the man probably just wanted to go home. ‘You.. wouldn’t happen to know anything about cars, would you?’

Vincent rose from his chair, his lips curling into a polite smile. Fate had given him another chance to be near you. ‘Cars?’ He shook his head softly. ‘I’m afraid I’m not much of a mechanic, but I can certainly take a look. It might be something simple.’

He stepped around his desk, gesturing to the hallway. You let out a small sigh and smile. ‘Thank you, I’d appreciate it. It’s just-..’ You hesitated, glancing back at him as he walked. ‘The engine wouldn’t start, and I don’t really know what to do out here. I mean, it’s not like I can just walk home in this weather.’

Vincent’s chest tightened at the thought of you stranded and alone in this weather. The snow had been relentless all day, piling high up on the streets outside his office. It was as though the world had conspired with him to keep you here, within reach.

‘Of course.’ He said, his tone calm as always. ‘Let’s see what we’re dealing with.’

The cold hit you both sharply as the two of you stepped outside. Vincent’s polished shoes crunched against the fresh snow and you cross your arms against the cold as you look at your car in the parking lot. Frost was creeping up on the edges of the windows.

‘Do you have the keys?’ Vincent asks, turning to you. You quickly nod and hand them over, your fingers brushing against each other briefly. It was enough to send a jolt up his spine.

Vincent slips into the drivers seat, turning the key. The engine groaned, sputtered .. and then fell silent. Again, and again, and again. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he exited the car.

‘It’s not catching. It could be the battery.’ He says, glancing over at you. Your cheeks were rosy. You groan.

‘Figures. The one time I don’t have jumper cables in the car..’

Vincent paused, his mind working quickly. ‘No matter. Why don’t you come back inside while I call for assistance? No use in freezing out here, hm?’

Your shoulders relax slightly. ‘Thank you, I’m so sorry for the trouble, though.’

‘It’s no trouble at all.’ He responds, his voice smooth. Almost too smooth.

Inside, the warmth of his office was a nice contrast to the piercing cold outside. He gestured for you to sit on the couch, noticing the way you hesitated before sitting down on the leather.

It was perfect, Vincent thought. It was an opportunity, wasn’t it? An opportunity to get to know you better, to peel back another layer. To keep you here, with him, just a little longer.

‘Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?’ He asks. His gaze lingers.

‘Oh, uh.. Tea would be nice. Thank you.’ You answer.

You were on the edge of the couch, one foot nervously tapping against the floor. The whole situation felt surreal. Your car breaking down, being stuck here with your new psychiatrist- it was something out of a bad sitcom. The meticulous order of everything in this room didn’t seem to help; like his weird tendency to keep straightening the pens on his desk, or that he always sat so perfectly still, like every movement was rehearsed. Like he was an actor.

After a while, Vincent returns, handing you the cup of tea. He made the tea just right- not too hot, a little bit of honey. No milk. The way he imagined you might prefer it. Would you notice the care he had taken?

He hoped so.

The steam of the tea curled around your face as you warm your hands with the cup. Vincent sat down across from you with his own. He seemed to relax more.

‘I called the tow truck for you. They’ll be here in a bit, the snow is kind of keeping them occupied.’

‘Thanks, doctor.’ You softly say, taking a sip from your tea. It was slightly sweet. Was it honey? ‘You really didn’t have to do that. I’m keeping you late.’

Vincent chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. If only you knew. Even if you had asked him to stay here the whole day and night, he wouldn’t mind. Not for you.

‘You’re not keeping me. I don’t mind at all.’

It was quiet in his office for a while. You watch the soft snowflakes fall down on the road next to his office. It was actually quite cozy. You decide to spark up conversation.

‘Your office is always so neat.’ You gesture around. ‘I often feel like I’m trespassing every time I walk in here with my muddy shoes.’

Vincent’s lips twitch into a smile. To be fair, he hated it when his patients stained his floor. When they mess up what he so perfectly cleaned. But he could bear it with you.

‘If you hint at your shoes that have been making my floor wet with snow, it’s fine.’ His eyes glance to your wet sneakers. ‘I suppose I do have a tendency to .. keep things in order. Keep them clean. It helps me think clearly.’

You chuckle. ‘Life is messy. Isn’t that what therapy is all about, doctor? That everything can’t be perfect all the time?’

His eyebrows raise. You were probing. Cheeky.

‘Poking around, are we? Very well. You are absolutely right, of course.’ He admits, placing his cup of tea down on the side table beside him. ‘But you’ll be surprised how much I can tolerate, giving the right circumstances. Even when I like things neat.’

‘You must think I’m a mess, then.’ You blurt out.

Vincent gaze lingers on you. ‘I don’t think so, Y/N. I really enjoy your company.’ He smiles. ‘This space becomes more meaningful whenever you’re here.’

The way he said that made your stomach flip- not necessarily in a good way. You focus on the tea in your hands, swirling it around the cup. There was something disarming about this conversation. Like he was trying to draw you closer without you realizing it.

‘You’re kind to say that.’

Vincent grins. He was scared he had overstepped a bit. But you seemed to accept it. If there was one thing he was besides a tad bit obsessed, it was patient. He would play the waiting game for as long as he sees fit. Reel you in. Really see you. Know you.

Outside, the sound of tires crunching trough the snow signaled the arrival of the tow truck. Disappointment flickered across Vincent’s face. ‘It seems your detour is over, Y/N.’

Later that night, he sat on the couch, on the same spot you had been sitting. He was softly brushing the edge of the tea cup you had left behind, deep in thought.

Next week felt too far away.

[alltheirdamn]

Dark!Preacher!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Caution/TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS, no outbreak AU, undisclosed age gap (joel is 56 and reader is in her late 20's), infidelity, religion!kink, degredation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, choking, slapping, forced oral (m receiving), deepthroating, rough hair pulling, boot licking, light fingering, pain!kink, noncon unprotected piv sex, pet names (little one, good girl), degrading terms (bitch, whore, slut), dirty/filthy language, rough sex, forced orgasm, noncon creampie, no aftercare A/N: this is WAYYY out of my comfort zone to write, but something about the idea of Preacher!Joel just did it for me. I figured I'd test out the waters & see where it gets me... anyway, enjoy and PLEASE READ THE TAGS/WARNINGS

Masterlist

You weren’t oblivious to Preacher Joel's sidelong glances and lingering stares. Every Sunday, you sat in the second row of the church, watching him preach the Lord’s gospel with a baleful smile only meant for you, while your husband, Adam, sat beside you blissfully unaware. So, when you proposed the idea of taking a pie over to his home—alone—Adam didn’t even bat an eye. 

“Are you taking over a cherry pie?” Adam had asked from the living room. 

You were bent over the oven, pulling the hot pie dish onto a trivet with shaky hands. Sunday service that morning had been your breaking point; the communion dish made its rounds through the pews, and you found Joel’s eyes tracking your mouth as you brought the grape wine to your lips. Your resolve snapped, and the desire to feed into temptation blurred any and all judgment you had since maintained. 

“Do you think he’ll like it?” You hollered back at Adam, wrapping the pie in a terrycloth. 

“I’m sure he will, honey.”

Untieing the canvas apron from around your waist, you smoothed down your white church dress and shuffled the pie dish into your arms. Crossing into the living room, you kissed the crown of Adam’s head softly before saying goodbye. He didn’t look up once. 

The benefit of living in a small town was that all the homes were fairly close together, meaning it was a short walk to the preacher’s home, which resided behind the town’s church. It was far past supper time, and most of the town had tucked into bed by now, leaving you alone with the wind between the trees and a man who could be your undoing. The only sounds echoing around you were your feet crunching along the dirt road and the howls of stray dogs in the distance. Clutching the pie closer to your chest, you continued walking toward his home with the Devil on your shoulder. 

Preacher Joel’s home was modest and small; the white paint on the wood structure chipped away from years of weathering. His black pickup truck was parked on the side of the house, the wheels dirty and the paint smeared with mud. The closer you got to his front porch steps, the more rapidly your heart pounded inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew every muscle drawing your body closer to his home was being fueled by the Devil. Under the flickering front porch light, you brushed your knuckles against the door and held your breath. 

Heavy footfall sounded on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing the man that plagued every thought in your mind. Joel stood before you with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the dark chest hair that spattered across his tan chest. His patchy grey beard was well-trimmed as if he had just refreshed it, and a lascivious grin broke across his face as his eyes raked over you. 

“This is a mighty nice surprise,” he whistled. 

“I—I wanted to bring over a pie,” you stuttered. “As a thank you.”

“For what?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his piercing brown eyes staring down at you. 

“It was just on my heart to do something nice,” you lied. 

Joel reached out for the pie dish, his warm hands brushing over yours as he took it. You weren’t sure what to do with your empty hands, so you found yourself fidgeting with the gold cross dangling around your neck. 

“Come in,” he said, sidestepping to welcome you in. 

The second your feet walked over the threshold, you knew temptation had sunk its teeth into you. 

“This is a lovely home,” you commented, following him to the kitchen. 

The living room was surrounded by dark wooden walls, with a beige loveseat in the center and a TV box pressed against the opposite wall. There were remnants of him in every corner of the room: a half-drank glass of whiskey, a newspaper folded on the coffee table, and his black leather Bible resting on the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was just as simple, with a gas stove and small white fridge nestled against wooden cabinetry. 

Joel set the pie dish on the granite countertop, turning to the cabinets to retrieve a small plate, a fork, and a knife. You fixated on the way he worked at rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms flexing with each fold of the fabric. He let out a small chuckle, forcing your eyes to tear away from his hands and back to his deep brown eyes. 

“Y’make this yourself?” He asked, cutting himself a slice. 

“I did,” you nodded. “It’s cherry.”

“Mmhm, my favorite,” he hummed. 

He dug his fork into the pie, the crust crumbling onto the plate as he lifted it to his mouth. You watched as his mouth wrapped around the utensil, a low groan escaping his throat as he tasted the cherry filling you had made by scratch. Under thick eyebrows, his eyes closed while he savored the taste, and you felt the swell of pride stirring inside you. 

“It’s good?” You asked. 

“S’delicious,” he mumbled, digging into it for a second bite. 

Instead of bringing the next bite to his lips, he offered it to you, urging you to lean over the countertop and meet him halfway. How were you to deny the preacher of something he wanted? Opening your mouth, you welcomed the sweet taste onto your tongue, meeting his eyes as you wrapped your lips around the fork. 

“Delicious, ain’t it?” 

“Yes,” you whispered as he pulled the fork from your mouth. 

Joel’s eyes dilated with a surge of lust. You never saw that look on your husband, but it was unmistakable when you looked into those dark eyes now. A sudden thrum of warmth ran through your body the longer studied you, forcing you to squirm in place. He must have taken notice of it when he decided to round the countertop and swarm you with his broad frame. His finger curled under the chain of your necklace, tugging at it until you lifted your eyes to his. 

“You’re a temptation, little one,” he drawled. “Just look at you.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me during your sermons,” you confessed.

He cocked his head to the side in amusement; his plush lips quirked up in a smile. His finger coiled around the chain tighter, pulling you a step closer. You inhaled the scent of whiskey and smoke that lingered on his shirt as it brushed against your chest. The thin fabric of your dress wasn’t enough to hide the shiver that ran over your spine. Joel tucked a stray hair behind your ear, bending down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear. 

“Y’sure you ain’t seein’ the Devil?”

His hand released your necklace, only to wrap around your throat in a tight grasp. You struggled for air under his grip, your nails raking down his bare forearms. There was an uncanny wildness lighting up his eyes as he watched you gasping under the forceful pressure of his fingers.

“Just a naughty thing lookin’ for corruption.”

“Please,” you choked.

“Ain’t this what you wanted, little one? Look at you, just drippin’ in sin,” he whispered.

“I—I can’t breathe,” you thrashed against him, tears pooling in your eyes.

He shoved you backward until you were doubled over and heaving for air. There was a deep laugh swirling through your fogged mind, and you blinked back tears before you attempted to make eye contact again. Something about this felt wrong. 

Joel stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for you to recompose yourself. You staggered back, your body hitting the wall of the kitchen, and you coughed violently, trying to grasp back onto reality. He curled a finger to beckon you forward, and despite your reluctance, your body moved on its own accord. With a fist full of your hair, he forced you to your knees, making you cry out at the impact of your knees hitting the tile floor. 

“I should make you pray for forgiveness before I ruin you,” he growled. 

You whimpered, humiliated at the way arousal pooled between your legs with every word he said. Adam never spoke to you in such a vile way; he only ever took you in the marital way, with you on your back and him above you. But something told you that the preacher would be far from that familiarity, and it electrified you. You wanted to know how far you could take it and how rough he could be. If the Devil was beckoning you, who were you to deny him the pleasure?

With defiance in your eyes and a proud grin on your face, you started to mouth a prayer to the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t be listening. Whatever you did in this small home was between you and the preacher. 

“Louder,” he ordered. 

You repeated the prayer, never breaking eye contact with him as his jaw clenched with each word you spoke. His hand was still twisted into your hair at the roots, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, settling on the growing bulge beneath his trousers. You wet your lips, imagining what his cock looked like and how it feel inside of you. Joel must have taken notice of your fixation and brought his other hand down to deliver a sharp slap against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, the sting of his hand lingering on your face as you gathered your bearings. 

“Filthy lil thing just beggin’ to be fucked, huh?” 

You worked your jaw open and closed, trying to relieve the pain that radiated down your neck. 

“Answer me, little one,” he snapped. 

“Y–Yes,” you muttered.

Another jarring hit came across your face, your ears ringing from the impact. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Satisfied with your answer, he worked at undoing his belt buckle, tugging his trousers and underwear down his hips. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock; the thickness of it was enough to wrack your already shaking nerves. Adam never asked you to pleasure him this way, but your body reacted differently when you were kneeling at the feet of a corrupt preacher. 

His fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, his hand pumping it slowly as it grazed over your parted lips. You wanted to take the plunge and wrap your lips around it; you wanted to savor every inch of it and watch him fall apart. 

“Droolin’ like a bitch in heat, fucking pathetic,” he taunted. 

He smacked the weeping head of his cock against your lips, precum smearing across your mouth and chin. You obediently opened your mouth for him, the immediate salty taste falling against your tongue. He gave you a moment to stretch your jaw to adjust to the girth of his cock before rocking deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock tapped the back of your throat, forcing you to sputter around him. Tears soaked your cheeks as he picked up a steady pace, each thrust reaching your soft palate. 

“That’s it, little one,” he groaned. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Can’t cry out for God when you're full of me.”

You moaned around him, the vibration sending him into a frenzy as he brutalized your throat. You could only bare your weight against the floor and take every inch he gave, the drool and tears mixing together as they rolled down your chin. Joel’s head tilted back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your gag reflex kicked in as he struck the back of your throat before he pulled out and leveled you with a heavy stare. 

“Such a good girl,” he praised, tapping your cheek lightly before unwinding his fingers from your scalp. 

He gathered the drool dripping from your chin and smeared it over your face, the taste of him invading your nostrils with each swipe of his hand. It was dehumanizing and disgusting…but some fucked up part of you loved it. 

“Thank you, sir,” you preened, smiling through the mess he had made of you. 

“Don’t go thankin’ me yet, little one. Better clean your drool off my fuckin’ boots.”

Your smile faded as your eyes flicked between him and his shoes, which were visibly covered in a pool of your saliva. You shook your head in protest, but he was quick to shove you down toward the floor. You thrashed against his grip on the back of your neck, your nose brushing against the worn work boots adorning his feet. 

“Lick,” he demanded. “Clean your fuckin’ mess.”

You swallowed thickly before you allowed your tongue to dart out and lap up the remnants of your saliva. You held back a retch as your tongue grazed over the leather material, the dryness under your mess painful against your throbbing tongue. You peered up at him in hopes that he was satisfied, but you were only met with a cocked brow and an unamused stare. 

“Missed a spot,” he huffed, toeing his boot against your mouth. 

You cringed as you continued working your tongue over his other shoe, the taste of it unbearable. He was shamelessly minimizing you down into the worst version of yourself, and there was no one to blame but you and your naivety. 

Joel slammed his shoe back against the tile with pursed lips, and he tsked at you. 

“Pathetic,” he mumbled.  “Bedroom s’down the hall. I want you in there and spread out on my bed.”

You nodded and wiped away the tears bursting from your eyes. A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you tried to rise to your feet, forcing you back down. You gave him a weary look, waiting for his next command. Crouching down to eye level, Joel took your chin into his hand with a forceful grip. 

“Crawl,” he ordered. “Go on.”

He straightened to his full height and loomed over you as you planted yourself on all fours. Turning toward the walkway of the kitchen, you started crawling, the heat of his stare on your backside enough to ignite another wave of pleasure inside your stomach. You could feel your dress hiking up over your thighs, putting your cotton underwear on display for him with each progressive move you made. The heat of his stare lingered on you as you scrapped your knees across the carpet, the bedroom door at the end of the hallway calling out to you through the voice of the Devil. He reached over your body to open the door, guiding you into the dark room. There was a wooden wardrobe propped against the wall and a matching side table next to the large bed that sat in the center. Flipping on the overhead light, he pointed to the bed, silently instructing you to climb onto the flannel bedspread. 

You laid back on the bed, your white dress pooled around your body as he crawled over you. Caging you between his muscular biceps, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and dragged his tongue against the pulse throbbing under your skin. The need growing between your legs was becoming too unbearable to handle, but you were afraid to beg him for release. He had made it apparent he controlled every second of this interaction, from how much you breathed to the way you moved. 

“Let’s see how soaked these pretty lil panties are,” he whispered, snaking his hand down your abdomen. 

Flipping your dress up, his fingers delved under the waistband of your cotton underwear, a hum of approval rumbling his chest as he found your thighs slick with arousal. Thick fingers worked their way through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he plunged two fingers in without warning. You arched into his touch, the curl of his fingers against the soft spot inside you jolting you upwards. 

“Fuck!” You cried, your fingers digging into his arms. 

His free hand shot out to cover your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours, rage simmering in his brown eyes as he stared you down. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, little one,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ peep, you understand?”

Your response was muffled under his hand, and he shifted his weight so that his fingers dug further inside you. You swallowed back pitiful moans as he worked his fingers in and out of you. A slow-burning sensation rolled through your stomach, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You were fluttering around him as it bubbled to the surface, only to be met by the absence of his fingers as he pulled them away at the last second. You wailed in protest, feeling a hollowness inside of you without them there. 

Ripping your underwear down your legs, Joel hauled you onto your stomach, positioning your hips upward in the way he desired. You had no choice but to take anything he gave you. The clanking sound of the belt around his pants was the only warning you were granted before wedged between your thinks and sunk into you. Your vision faded out at the blinding pain of him stretching you open, every inch of him tearing you apart beyond compare. 

“It’s too much. I—I can’t. It hurts!” you cried. 

His only response was to grind his hips harder against yours, the pain radiating up your spine. 

“Shut up,” he bit out, pulling out and driving back into you. “You’re gonna take my cock like the filthy lil slut I know you are, and you’re gonna thank me. Understand?”

Your face fell into the pillows as you muffled a scream. His hand wound around your neck, yanking you from the bed and forcing you to bend back and meet his vicious stare. With his teeth barred and cock buried inside you, there was nothing to do but give yourself fully to him. 

“Yes, sir!" You wailed. “ Thank you, sir.”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. 

He set a steady pace, the lewd sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing throughout the room. He was brutalizing you, defiling you, completely ruining you into oblivion. The voice of temptation had led you here, and now you were paying the price for your sins. No amount of prayer or forgiveness could wash you clean. 

“Such a perfect and obedient whore,” he grunted with his fingers bruising your hipbones. “You fuckin’ love havin’ this tight cunt wrecked by the preacher—shit—just dyin’ to have my cum inside you.”

The sobs wracked through your body as the need to climax tore you apart. He yanked your hips even higher, pistoning his cock into you at an angle that set your body alight. You had no control over the pleasure burning deep within you, and suddenly you were tensing around his cock with the name of God falling off your lips. 

“God can’t save you now, little one. This unholy cunt is mine.”

Fizzles of your ebbing climax simmered through your body, carrying you back down to the present, only to be met by another onslaught of violent thrusts from the man behind you. He was relentless as he took…and took…and took. By the time he was done with you, there would be nothing left. 

“Please—stop!” The words left your mouth broken and strained. 

You were clawing at the bedsheets, begging for him to release you. He only laughed at each one of your protests, his pace unrelenting and forceful with every drive of his cock inside you. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you felt the shift in his rhythm, alerting you that he was about to climax. 

“Don’t—God—please don’t!” You begged. 

“Quiet,” he snarled, pulling you by the throat so that you were flush against his chest. 

“Please,” you sobbed, barely choking out the word. 

“Gonna send you back to your husband with my cum leakin’ out of you,” he snarled. 

Before you could even attempt to escape his hold, Joel was slamming into you one final time, a carnal groan deafening your ears as he filled you with his release. He tossed you back onto the bed carelessly, leaving you aching and stretched open on the ruined sheets. You lay there motionless, staring at the chipping paint along the doors of his wardrobe. Joel rolled off the bed, muttering a slew of derogatory words your way, before vanishing into the bathroom down the hall. The silence swirling around you was the only comfort in the aftermath, the pain radiating inside you fading away the longer you sunk into the mattress. 

The sound of footsteps flooded the room, and you flinched away as Joel’s hand roamed up your bare thigh. His fingers prodded against your throbbing entrance, teasing you until you squirmed out of reach. 

“Take yourself home, little one,” he instructed. 

You winced as you rose from the bed, not daring to make eye contact as you gathered your underwear and fled down the hallway. The slap of the cross necklace against your chest was a burning reminder of the sins you had committed. You staggered out the front door, barely making it down the first step of the porch before you burst into tears. Joel’s presence loomed behind you, and you looked back one final time to see him watching you leave with a sinister smile breaking across his face. With scuffed knees and his cum trickling down your thighs, you barreled home, knowing you had just met the Devil.

[vashs-turtleneck]

Reverence

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Sinister!Vash x Reader Summary: Vash isn't the monster people say he is. They just don't understand the lengths at which he'll go to save humanity and the plants. A few... sacrifices are necessary to make a world like that, but you will always be his loyal follower. CW: smut, blowjob, religious imagery, god/follower dynamics, blood. Word count: 1.4k AN: wanted a sinister Vash where he's trying to save everyone but in a very delusional way. this was originally supposed to be like a 200 word thing....what happened...

They call him a walking disaster, the humanoid typhoon, the diablo, but you know better than anyone else that it's not true. People are wrong about Vash the Stampede.

Everything he does is for mankind. He strives only for the betterment of No Man's Land, a world where humans and plants can live together in harmony. Can't they see that? How blind can the people be to his blessings that they place a bounty over his head and deem him a demon? The people he hurts, the lives he takes, the towns he destroys, it's all for their benefit - small sacrifices to make for the interest of the many. He doesn't want to hurt people. He doesn't want to take lives, but it's a sin he's ready to bear for everyone's sake. They don't see him in the late hours of the night, when he wipes the blood from his hands and sorrow fills his eyes, his tears mixing with the crimson smeared along his cheeks. Yet, they call you a fool, call you crazy for following him the way these people follow their false gods. At least you know your god is real.

And he always keeps you close. You're not allowed out of his sight, lest you want to be punished. Luckily, you're always right behind him, following constantly at his heel, giving him every ounce of your devotion. You know it's for your own sake that he keeps the leash tight around your neck. He only wants to keep you safe, after all. Whatever he does, you know he has your best intentions in mind. You'd strip and bark like a dog if he told you to because you trust him so completely. That dazzling smile would never deceive you, even if it doesn't meet his eyes.

So when he tells you to drop down to your knees, you do so without hesitation, falling down to the hard wood floors with a resounding *thud*, but you don't mind. The bruises it leaves behind will be a testament of your faith. 

“Always so good. So quick to listen.”

It's instinctual, the way you lean into his touch when he pets you, metal fingers running through your hair while his hand of flesh and bone works to unbuckle his belt, followed by the low purr of a zipper being undone. You watch in awe as Vash frees himself from those tight leather pants, his perfect cock leaking pretty beads of precum down along his shaft, and you have to fight back the urge to go against his grip and run your tongue along the length of him, to savor every drop of him. He pulls you in closer by your hair, brushing the tip along your cheek and leaving behind a wet trail of precum - a promise of what's to come.

“Open wide, mayfly.”

Your lips part immediately, and he gives you no time before every delicious inch of his cock is thrust into your mouth, the tip slamming against the back of your throat. He lets out a long, shuddering sigh that heats you up to the core, and he keeps himself still for a few moments, savoring the warmth of your eager mouth around him. His fingers card through your hair, a dark, breathy chuckle leaving the humanoid typhoon before his hips reel back and slam back against you. He falls into a feverish rhythm, rutting himself against your mouth with his tight grip on your hair pushing and pulling your head back and forth for his own pleasure.

“Suck. Suck hard.”

And you do. Of course you do. Your cheeks hollow as you accept him fully and unabashedly into your mouth, your tongue lavishing the scarred underside of his cock, tracing every vein and mapping out every inch of him with your lips. Even as you choke and gag and tears stream down your cheeks, your gaze stays focused on the man standing above you. He looks down at you with a wide smile, showing off those sharp canines that have left their mark on you too many times to count, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and those dark, hooded eyes fixed on you.

“So pretty with your mouth full like that.”

Every bit of your discomfort is worth it when those saccharine words fall from his lips. 

“So beautiful when you're struggling. You'll swallow every drop I give you, won't you?”

You can't reply when your mouth is being used as a toy for the humanoid typhoon, but the way you mewl so desperately for his cum is more than enough of an answer for him.

“Haah… That's right. Take all of it.”

He tightens his grip on your head, pushing you down on him all the way to the hilt and keeping you still. You watch as Vash throws his head back with a rumbling groan, spending himself down your throat and flooding your mouth with his cum. You moan at the taste of him, and you have to stop your eyes from rolling back, lest you miss even a moment of his pleasure. You gather every savory drop of him with your lips and tongue, swallowing it all down with hungry enthusiasm. To waste even a drop of such a generous offering would be a terrible sin. 

“Mayfly.”

Vash suddenly pulls you up on your feet by the hair with his metal hand. He cups your face and pinches your cheeks between his fingers, forcing your lips to purse as he trails the tip of his tongue up along your cheek, tasting your tears and leaving behind a scorching path along your skin.

“Such a mess. You look delectable, sweetheart.”

He pulls back with a growl, his eyes scanning your face, taking in the view of you looking so completely and utterly wrecked, and he hasn't even touched you yet. He crashes his lips against yours, knocking your teeth together in a hungry kiss. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and caresses it against your own, invading every one of your senses. Whether it's his tongue or his cock, your mouth molds itself to him. Everything you have to give, everything you are, it's all for him. He consumes you, mind, body, and soul. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your mouths for a moment before it breaks.

Oh, he's being so generous, letting you have a taste of both his lips and his dick tonight.

“I could devour you, but I’m not done with you just yet. Back on your knees. Now. I wouldn't wanna have to punish my precious little bug for being disobedient.”

You lick your lips clean of his flavor and settle back down on your knees. Your hands mindlessly clasp together in front of your chest, akin to a devotee praying at their place of worship.

He cups your cheek in his large, calloused palm, guiding your open mouth back onto him. This time, Vash's pace is much slower, much more gentle. His hips glide in a deep, sensual rhythm, giving you the time to feel every ridge and every inch of him. You've taken care of his initial hunger, that burning need for release, and now he rewards you by letting you take your time with his cock. You hum sweetly as you continue to pamper him, your tongue swirling along his cockhead and teasing the slit with the tip of your tongue, groaning as you taste the remnants of his release.

“Oh, mayfly,” he coos, his thumb swiping away a fallen tear from your cheek. He looks down at you with such tenderness that it makes you whimper. 

“You're so good. So good.”

You want to be good. All you want is to be good to him, show him that despite the venom spat his way, you will always be at his side. You live for him, and you'll die for him.

“My precious little mayfly. I'll be…so sad the day I have to kill you.”

Poor, sweet man. Your heart aches for him, for the martyr he's been forced to become. But you're still here. For now, anyway, and you'll sing his praises to the heavens as long as you draw breath. It doesn't matter how much your throat burns and your eyes sting, as long as you're pulling those deep, succulent moans from him, as long as he praises you so sweetly, you'll be on your knees for him, worshiping him like the angel you see him as.

divider source.

[myers-meadow]

Libra: Lucius & Narcissa Malfoy x reader

Happy super late, or already early, birthday @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better!! Here is a bday gift fic, angst and fluff, just for you <3.

Summary: Insecurities come to a head on your birthday, but the Malfoys always have a thing or two up their sleeve to make it all better.

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Narcissa Malfoy x reader in an equal poly relationship.

I hope you like it, cy!! This is quite spontanious, so I hope that the surprise is ok :)) dividers by @newlips or @/chechelia

A polyamorous life has many benefits. When Lucius is busy, Narcissa will have dinner with you. When Narcissa meets her friends or goes to her baking club, Lucius will take you shopping. It seemed like life was more perfect than ever with them, as part of their household. Unpredictably, or perhaps not all that unpredictably; double the partners also came with double the insecurities. They've been together for longer than you knew them, of course. It was only natural, and they understood. Still, with them being as they are; successful, rich, beautiful beyond compare, how could you find a place in their lives? What did you have to give that they didn't already have, or could get from someone else?

The late September sun rested itself in the backyard. Perhaps that was one of the biggest benefits of living at Malfoy Manor: the gardens. There were several of them, each with its own theme and story. The rose garden was the one Lucius had constructed for Narcissa when she first moved in, it was to the left of the estate. It had statues of Greek mythology throughout, with alcoves and gazebos with beautiful chairs and tables from carved wood. It fit her so well and Lucius' love for his wife was palpable when one visited the beautiful garden. They divulged that, early on, when they just moved in together and the garden was not as lush as it was now, they would put a blanket out and stargaze together. There still was a designated stargazing spot; one against a hill, with a plaque showing different constellations and their individual stars.

Your birthday came. There was just a note. That was all. A note and a slice of cake. No fanfare, no flowers, not even them.

The handwriting on the envelope curled in the way Narcissa's did, and you open it with a slightly worse tremor than normal. After a happy birthday wish, and to enjoy the slice of homemade cake, it held instructions to come out to the garden, asking for a bit of help, if it suits you, with the new plaque Lucius is getting installed in the stargazing spot. Since you know so much about plants, she trusts in your judgement with which plants will fit in both beauty and meaning. This was that pang of neglect, of feeling like you only mattered for your usefulness. It hit harder than it had before.

Growing restless after breakfast and sick of pacing the kitchen, you eventually go outside. It's a wonderful September day; windy, overcast, and sometimes a beam of sunlight hits a patch of grass or perennials. From afar you hear the cry of Lucius' peacock. Moving along the path, you admire the plants. The bushes don’t have berries anymore, but some flowers are still in bloom. The first of the leaves are turning colour, but only the first few. September is beautiful. Yet it doesn't erase that pang in your heart. Feeling unsure, not wanting to cry suddenly if you meet either of your lovers, you linger around the edges of the estate, not really making your way to the stargazing spot just yet.

Yet, you've been asked for help. How could you refuse them? The project could be fun. Even as you try thinking positively, it leaves a bitter taste. When you get to the stargazing spot, there's another envelope on the plaque, held in place by a rock. Cursive, smaller than Narcissa's. You open it, brushing some wispy hairs that fell into your face from the wind. It directs you further away from the manor, deeper into the estate. It asks you to come to the other side of the estate, the right, to take a look at the plants Lucius ordered, so you could choose between them for the stargazing spot. You frown, but do as it says anyway.

It nears dinner time when you reach the spot, as you deliberately took the scenic route there. Once you're over the hill that leads you to that side of the estate, a gleaming catches your eye. Glass. Stained glass, even, with the lead glinting like silver in the low summer sun. It looks like... You move closer, driven by curiosity this time.

A greenhouse. A large, beautiful greenhouse, stained glass above the door. The colours form your star sign, inside a circle. In the light like this, a light coloured like a kaleidoscope falls on the dirt path leading into the greenhouse. You enter, amazed by the size of the structure. The inside is filled with plants. It's nicely humid, and warm, as a greenhouse should be. Slowly, you follow the path, taking it all in. Was this what they wanted to show you? There is no other note directing you to choose from a certain set of plants, nor are your lovers waiting for you. Yet, you're certain that this building has not been here before. You loved exploring the garden, and if it had been, you definitively would have noticed. It's rather hard to miss.

Along the path are many plants, each in their own designated border, and maintained well. There are tomatoes, paprika, potatoes, onions, green beans, a few lemon trees in large pots, extending their branches up to the glass ceiling. All of them are thriving. After those follow the herbs; rosemary, lavender, mugwort, thyme, oregano, basil, mint... You rub your fingers along a twig of rosemary and smell it. Delightful. Raspberry and blackberry bushes hide near the end of the greenhouse. On a potted rose by the other entrance, a note is pinned, right beneath the largest rose; a tender salmon pink specimen. You take it off carefully, and open it. 

In Lucius' small and precise script, it reads: "We hope you like your gift. For a long time, we thought about how to make this birthday perfect for you, and we decided to gift you the joy of gardening and cultivating your own garden. Narcissa took the liberty of installing it with plants she thought you'd like, and some extra. This area is now your corner of the estate. Our home is yours as well, and now, this is a place just for yourself. You don't ask for permission regarding anything about this greenhouse or the surrounding garden. Ever yours, Narcissa & Lucius."

You press a hand to your mouth, touched as you are. A whole greenhouse... They knew how much you love plants. How much you loved herbology in school, and how many herbs you'll need for potions... So they gifted you an entire corner of the estate so you could practice your hobbies with more ease. With a tear welling up in your eye, you turn around, folding the letter again, looking around at the greenhouse with new eyes. Your two lovers are there, walking in, and you run up to them, engulfing them in the tightest of hugs.

"Well, love, do you like it?" asks Narcissa, smiling and kissing your crown. 

"Narcissa did so much for the space," says Lucius, gracefully giving his wife the credit she earnt. "Although I feel this amount of lavender also benefits her and her baking." He chuckles, and squeezes you tight.

You nod, fully in tears now. "Thank you, thank you both. This is... above anything I ever expected. It's beautiful."

Narcissa points to the stained glass above both entrances. "Those gorgeous things were Lucius' idea, though. You deserve the beauty. We love you, dearest."

"We do, so much." Lucius' voice reverberates against your chest as he pulls you to his. He cups your face, making you look up at him, his stern face now soft. "Don't ever doubt that."

[uzurimisery]

stars so soft. / toji fushiguro x reader

Warnings: suggestive content, friends with benefits to lovers

w.c.: 1k

Written for the @pixelcafe-network Friday Challenge #2

You know it is before you open the door. It’s late, 2 am. The sunset was so long ago it feels like the night has been around the whole day. The guy you started seeing, Alan, a nice guy but a bit boring if you’re honest, left around 11 pm and you’ve just been scrolling through social media on your phone since then. You’ve kept yourself awake, knowing he will turn up eventually. He always does. Toji’s the only person who shows up at the time, with no regard for whether you’re sleeping or not. But like habit you open the door, the hinges creaking under the weight of itself, and sure enough it is Toji on the other side.

“Hey,” he speaks, voice rough from the cigarettes he smokes. His hair is damp and slicked back from his face from the rain. It drips down onto his shirt, the fabric clinging to every ridge of his body. 

You hesitate for a second. It’s not surprise, but more like trepidation. There’s always something about him that makes you feel like a school girl with a crush. He never let’s you know what he actually feels towards you and you’re left guessing. You’ve given yourself the grace to assume he wants nothing serious. 

You step to the side without thinking. It's second nature to let him in. “Hey.” 

He brushes past you, some water dripping onto the tile of your entryway, and you close the door behind him.

The two of you have a complicated relationship. If you can call it that. You aren’t even sure what he’d consider you guys to be. Whatever it is, you know at least you’ll be having great sex tonight. 

“You got a new couch.” Toji is a big guy, he takes up a lot of visual space in your apartment. Its not that you’ve got a small apartment, he’s just big. Tall and muscular. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

It's plush, a deep shade of teal L-shaped couch that contrasts nicely with the warm wood floors of your apartment, really makes them pop. For something you found for $200 on Facebook marketplace, it really is a steal. Fits well in your space and really ties it together in a way the red loveseat you used to have never could. Makes the space cozy and inviting. Makes it feel like a home. 

“Looks nice,” He’s quick to slide his shoes off, sink onto the couch, and place his feet on the coffee table. Maybe when you’re that large you forget that things are smaller than you or maybe he doesnt care, but it jostles the two wine glasses you forgot to clear. They clink against each other softly. Scoffing, you nudge his legs off the table. 

“Seriously?”

He pointedly glances at the glasses. “You have company?” 

You shrug nonchalantly, sliding onto the couch beside him. “Just some guy.” 

It is like a witch goes off for him. Toji’s stiff at that, turning to face you. His brows heavy, forehead scrunched up. Reminds you of a kid finding out they aren’t getting the toy they’ve been eyeing a the store. “You’re fucking other guys?” 

“No, it was a date. I’m not fucking him. Yet.”  You roll your eyes at his tone.

His jaw tightens. “What do you mean yet?” 

“As in I’m not having sex with him yet, but I will later.”  You reply flatly. 

He crosses his arms and stares forward. His posture was rigid like someone shoved a pole up his ass, muscles tensed under his wet shirt. There’s a long silence, which is normal for him he has phases where he doesn’t talk much, but it’s awkward and 

tense. He doesn’t look at you, but he’s firm when he finally speaks. 

“I don’t want you to.” 

“Why not?” 

Its at that he faces you again. There’s a possessive edge in his eyes, something hungry and controlling.  It’s predatory and sends a shiver down your spine. If you’re honest, it turns you on. 

“I don’t want you to,” he’s cold as he speaks. “If you sleep with him I’ll kill him.” 

That should be expected given the whole hitman-for-hire thing. Murder is the most natural thing in the world for him. Comes with the territory. You should probably flinch, act horrified, and cry, but you knew what he was and who he was. 

“Toji, you’re not my boyfriend I can do what I want.” 

 He puts a hand on your thigh as he doesn't miss a beat. “Starting today I'm your boyfriend.” 

“I don’t get a say in this?” Both of you know that you’d say yes if he had asked you months ago, you were just being bratty since he didn’t ask before and now is telling you of this. 

“What like you’re gonna say no?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “You’ve got to take me on an actual date now y’know that?”

“Okay.” He’s smiling at you.

“And I want flowers every week,” you add. If he’s going to decide this for you, you want romance. God knows he’s got to make up for the lack of it he’s been giving you.

To your surprise, he doesn't argue. “Alright.” 

You stare at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The look on your face must say a lot because he laughs, one of those full-bellied ones, before pulling you onto his lap. 

“You’re serious?” you ask, still suspicious of him. 

“Dead serious,” he replies, grip tightening around your waist and pulling you closer to grind your core against his growing erection. His voice is a low growl and he leans in and whispers the next part. “You make me fucking crazy.” 

“Buh buh buh,” you place a hand on his chest and push him back. “Bad dog. Gotta earn it by taking me to dinner tomorrow.” 

He groaned, putting his head on your shoulder. “Fine.” 

You can feel him smiling against your skin before biting your shoulder. 

“Ow!” 

“Sorry,” he chuckles pressing a soft kiss to the spot. “I’m not house-trained.”

©️ uzuzrimisery

[juuuulez]

📰 | epilogue: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, 6 year timeskip, cute Judith moments, S10 Negan (aka Negan redemption arc), winter vibes because I wish it snowed where I live.

summary: Six years later, Carl and Reader consider what the future holds.

holy shit guys…it’s over! it’s done! writing this was so weird but also i’m very happy with the ending, and also getting to expand on Carl’s character beyond his death in canon was amazingly freeing.

i’ve got some requests to catch up on, but feel free to ask for stuff in the Capulet-canon! i’ll definitely go back to this and do little spinoff oneshots because they r very cute.

i hope you enjoy this as much as i did!

-> masterlist <-

Snow crunches under your feet as you treck back to Alexandria’s walls. A thin layer has dusted itself over your hair and shoulders, falling from the fabric of your jacket with each step. Slung over your back is a bundle of game: mostly rabbits, some squirrels, all tied up at the feet.

They’d designated you to checking the traps, a fairly mundane job that was mostly bearable, sans when the weather was this harsh. Having a small amount of freedom was nice at times, where you could be alone with the woods, though you knew someone was trailing nearby, shadowing your every move.

It didn’t hurt that much, knowing they didn’t trust you. You understood. But it sucked that it was these random assholes who hadn’t even been there during the war. Since when did they get a say?

Regardless, you felt relief as you arrived back home, if you could even call it that. The gates opened with a creak, allowing you inside, a familiar scene yet twisted in so many ways.

It had been six years since the war ended.

Six years of living in Alexandria, carefully under everybody’s watch. Of being torn down and scrutinised for mistakes you’d made as a teenager. Not that you’d call them mistakes, maybe that was your biggest flaw, being too prideful.

Someone comes to collect the bounty, to which you hand over the bundle, not before untying one of the rabbits you’d personally shot. That one would make your dinner tonight, besides, you’d been promising Judith a lucky rabbits foot.

The man doesn’t speak to you, though you aren’t offended. You’ve never been a big fan of small talk. In your opinion, there are very few you have the patience to converse with, and as long as they were still interested, then nobody else mattered.

Speaking of people important to you.

In the distance, you could spot Negan plowing snow along the main road that ran through Alexandria. You internally rolled your eyes, knowing that they’d been giving him stupider and stupider jobs recently.

There’s another figure, a young boy, who’s been tasked with watching him. He sits on a porch, a few feet away, kicking at the frosty ground.

“Hey, you wanna take a break?” You ask him, standing in front of the young male. The rabbit is still slung from your shoulder, along with the bow on your back.

He looks a little confused with the suggestion, and maybe offput that you’re talking to him. “No, I’m.. alright, thank you.” He attempts to brush you off, though clearly remains wary, almost unsettled by your presence.

You roll your eyes this time, not willing to continue this pointless back and forth. “Fuck off, okay? Just for a few minuets. Go waste your time somewhere else.” You demand.

Only a second of glaring down at the boy and he’s scurried off, likely to tell someone of your hostility. That’s one benefit, at least, that not many are willing to engage in a physical altercation with you, as they’d all heard stories of the war.

As you turn around, you catch Negan already watching you. A smile spreads onto your face, despite his rugged appearance, and the snow all over your jacket.

“You’re gonna be in deep shit for that one, you know?” He tells you, as if it isn’t obvious, though his tone indicates that he is pleased to see you again.

Lately, you’d been finding Negan more often around Alexandria, usually gardening or doing some other boring maintenance task. Depending on who was around, you were even sometimes allowed to visit him in his cell.

It hadn’t been like that for a long time, though. For the first four years after the war, you weren’t allowed any sort of contact. It was hard, and you’d struggled with bouts of depression on particularly difficult days, but things were starting to look up again.

“I don’t really care.” You shrug, smile turning into a downright grin as you approach. “Can’t make me do anything worse than hunting in dead-winter.”

As you crossed the path, Negan’s smile grew tender. He extended his arm to you, palm cupping the back of your neck and thumb moving the snowy hair from your face.

Though he had many regrets, letting you get caught up in everything was the biggest. In many ways he felt like he’d failed his job, which was to foster and protect a young girl. Yet, time and time again, you were put in harms way.

“What about plowing snow?” Negan sarcastically suggests, leaning on the handle of his shovel. The notion made you frown, straightening out the blue shirt he wore.

“No jacket?” You question, brows furrowed while you looked up at him.

The concern on your face made Negan smile, having watched you grow from a reckless teenager to a conscious young woman. “Nah. I have thick skin, doll.”

Regardless, you roll your eyes, trying to swallow your concern as you look to the snowy path. “I’m gonna ask someone about getting you warmer clothes.”

“I should be the one that’s worried,” Negan points out, “Hunting in this weather? It’s like they’re tryna’ kill you.”

He says it with a slightly bitter tone, genuinely irritated despite the fact that you’ve lived quite comfortably in Alexandria over the years. More so than him, certainly. Yet, the concern makes you smile, regardless.

“Someone’s gotta do it,” You justify with a shrug, “Trust me, I tried to dodge. Been feeling kinda shitty recently.”

“Shitty?” He echos.

“Yeah. Just.. bleh, y’know?”

Negan gives you a stern look, “I don’t know.”

You roll your eyes, not wanting to worry him over something you’d already written off as insignificant. “Just feelin’ icky lately, maybe a bit nauseous. I think this weathers fucking me up.

This causes him to let up a little, though you don’t miss the smug grin on Negan’s face as he continues to shovel snow. “Don’t sound like the weather,” He remarks, “Sure you aren’t pregnant? You and Carl are probably breedin’ like bunnies now you’re living together.”

The vulgar attitude never usually phased you, but this time your brow furrowed, glaring over at the man. “Don’t be gross.” You grumbled.

Luckily, Negan lets up, knowing this may be a soft spot for you. “Fine, I’m just teasing, doll. But you’ll tell me if it gets worse?”

“Yeah,” You agree, hoisting the supplies on your back a little higher. “I’ve gotta go get this rabbit skinned. And I’ll see about that jacket, okay?”

In return, he gives you a semi-enthusiastic thumbs up, though you know the emotion isn’t there. It makes you smile. You’ve truly missed him over these years, and seeing the toll imprisonments had on his attitude is jarring.

Nonetheless, you treck further into the community, locating your place. The small house sits near the back end, away from the main commotion, which you’ve grown to appreciate over time. Originally, you stayed there with Aaron, who was tasked with keeping an eye on you.

Then it was Rosita, and occasionally Tara. Back then, you were equally rude and hostile, and made a point to prove your disdain towards the entire situation. Of course, over the years, those walls melted away and you were forced into a state of acceptance.

Now, there was nobody watching over you. At least not in the safety of your own home. With the rate he was over, Carl practically lived there, though you knew he just didn’t like being in his own house with Rick gone. You’d understand how that would be unsettling.

The door creaked when you opened it, the haul causing you to bump it open with your hip. You dumped the bag at the door, and managed to unhook the bow with one hand.

You ventured further inside, intending to throw the dead rabbit onto the back porch to skin it. But you barely made it three steps down before your mission was halted, two arms snatched around your waist and tugging you back into a firm body.

“Jesus,” You huffed, “I didn’t hear you.”

Carl looks down, eyeing the left side of your head, completely flattened with the absence of an ear. “Shit. Sorry.” He apologised, having momentarily forgot in his haste to greet you.

The injury had thankfully healed, but your eardrum was ruined beyond repair. You were completely deaf from one side.

“I’m also wielding a dead rabbit, so watch out.” You remind him, shimming in his hold so that you’re face to face, though you hold the rabbit at an arms length away from his body.

“Then.. is this a bad time to kiss you?” He asks, and though it sounds genuine, the little smirk on his face indicates that your answer doesn’t matter.

You roll your eyes, a smile growing on your own face. Somehow, after all these years, you still get all bashful. “Never a bad time.”

No matter how much time passed, his lips would always feel perfect on your own. Carl kissed you like you were precious, made of porcelain, and the idea that someone was capable of being so gentle excited you. That, and it let you take control, something you lacked in your current life.

You shimmied your spare hand out of the snowy glove, so that you could wrap it around his neck. Lately, Carl had been letting you trim his hair, though you opted to keep it that same shoulder length, thinking it made him just adorable. He wore the bandage less, too, at least when at home.

Coming up for air, Carl pressed another tender kiss to your cheek, holding you a little closer. “Your hand is really cold.” He whispered.

In response, you dragged your palm over his face, squishing the cold flesh into his cheek. He groaned, finally letting go of you, seeeking reprieve from your snowy fingers.

You were finally able to continue down the hallway, though his footsteps followed right behind.

“Do you want to catch dinner with everyone?” He asked, “They’re cooking the rabbits down by the church.”

“I hate everyone.” You point out, bracing yourself against the cold air outdoors. There’s a metal peg hanging from the back porch, which you affix the rope onto, allowing the rabbit to dangle from its feet.

You can hear Carl has stopped behind you, leaning against the back door. “Besides, I think I wanna stay in. Still feelin’ kinda rough.” You say with a shrug.

It’s like a fish on a hook, where Carl can’t resist clinging to every little word you say. “Still? Do you need to see a doctor?” He suggests, worry in his tone.

Trying to ease his concern, you let go of the rabbit, giving Carl your full attention. “I don’t think so. I’m sure it’s nothing. A cold.”

Carl takes this as permission to dig deeper, wanting to find the root of this issue. He approaches, one hand settling on your hip, the other feeling your forehead. Though your temperature feels fine, he still remarks, “You don’t look like you have a cold.”

“Okay, genius. When did you get your degree?” You quip, the snappy attitude earning you an unamused glare, though it only takes a second before Carl is kissing your forehead, where his hand was.

It irritates you to no end that he’s so forgiving. But over time, Carl has learnt that you get defensive easily, expressed in irritated remarks that can turn borderline cruel. It’s his sign that something is wrong, but he needs to back off for the time being.

“I’ll skin the rabbit. You can lie down.” He suggests.

Your eyes narrow into a glare, not liking the insinuation that you can’t handle it. Though, you’re unable to be properly angry, knowing that he is trying to help. “Thank you.” You end up whispering in agreement, setting aside your pride for the time being.

With that aside, you decided to go and clean up from the hunt. There were little bloodstains on your jacket, so you left it hanging in the laundry for now, intending to deal with it later. Your boots were left at the door, and you quickly walked into the bedroom, intending to wiggle out of the snowy clothes.

Your hair was slightly damp, scalp a little sore from having it tied up all day. So, you padded into the bathroom, hoping to have a hot shower. But the second you looked in the mirror, you remembered what Negan had suggested. Albeit jokingly, but he still said it.

It was like a cruel history repeating itself. Being pregnant was a death sentance, in your eyes. Your own mother had died of birth complications, and that was before the apocalypse. That’s not to mention Lori.

Just the idea made you feel sick again. Scrounging through the bathroom cabinet, you found the beat-up packaging of a pregnancy test you’d stashed after finding it on a run. Just looking at it, all decorated in pink, made you feel worse.

You left it on the counter, hoping a shower would clear your head.

It didn’t.

The test was taunting you, staring at you through the foggy frosted glass of the shower. As much as you hated the notion, it wouldn’t leave your mind unless you got it over with. It was time to bite the bullet.

Still soaking wet from the shower, you fumbled with the box, hands shaking as you read the instructions. Whilst you peed into the little cup, you thought back to all the times you’d been intimate with Carl. The pair of you were relatively safe. But, maybe… maybe there’d been a few times you slipped up.

God, Negan was right. The pair of you were animals. It was like a late puberty, you couldn’t help it, you wanted to jump him at every opportunity. And now, this was your punishment.

A positive pregnancy test.

More like an execution date.

You spend a good ten minutes sitting on the bathroom floor, this indescribable weight on your chest. It gets heavier as time goes by, and you convince yourself that you may actually be unable to breathe if this continues.

Pulling on some clothes, you slowly inch from the bathroom, hair and skin still wet, though that doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t tell Carl, but at the same time, you need to.

You come to a stop at the back of the house, and before you can open the door, you notice Judith through the window. She’s sitting on the porch, talking with Carl as he attempts to skin the rabbit. His technique isn’t very good, but she doesn’t know any better. You hadn’t heard her come in, too busy wallowing in your own panic.

She stands, accepting a knife that Carl offers her, attempting to mimic his actions and take a chunk of fur off the rabbit. Judith struggles, not having the right angle, causing an uneven slice through the rabbits thigh.

Finally, you give in, pushing the door open. “You two are gonna butcher my rabbit.”

Judith turns to you, an eager smile on her face. She offers the knife, handle up like she’d been taught, “Show me?”

Though you accept the knife, Carl interjects, “She’s just had a shower, Jude.” He points out.

“It’s fine,” You assure them, rolling up the sleeves of your pyjama shirt despite the biting cold, “I’ll wash off with the hose. Now watch me, both of you.”

You teach the siblings how to properly skin a rabbit, explaining little tips and answering all of Judith’s questions. Though you’d come here to break some terrible news, you somehow find yourself feeling a little better. Watching Carl try and teach Judith something was heartwarming, and you wondered if he’d be this attentive with his own child.

That, and making Judith an aunt would be a gift in itself.

Later that night, you walk Judith back to her house, where Michonne was already waiting for her. She seemed relieved to know Judith was with you and Carl, given the girl had a tendency to investigate into some of the darker cracks of Alexandria.

There was still that one, heavy piece of information weighing on your mind. Though, it seemed to get lighter and lighter as time went on. When it came time to sleep, you were comfortably nestled against Carl’s side, your head resting on his shoulder.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue. It would be so easy to blurt out, yet you felt like doing some preemptive damage control.

“Would you ever wanna have kids?” You ask in a whisper, almost completely inaudible.

Given the circumstances, Carl finds the inquiry pretty strange. He shifts a little, laying on his side, so that you’re forced to face him.

“Maybe.” He says, though he sounds a little unsure of himself.

But maybe isn’t a no.

You stay silent for a moment, unsure of how to proceed now that you’ve gotten your answer. The silence causes Carl to grow curious, curious as to what has sparked this sudden interest.

“Do you?” He asks, looking you right in the eye, which makes you squirm a little.

Everything points towards your admission, but you can’t force the words from your mouth. So you just lay there, watching him, looking a little pent up and almost slightly guilty.

Fortunately, Carl isn’t stupid. He’s quite attentive, actually, especially when it comes to your health.

That, and he’d already found the empty test box in the bathroom, crumpled into the wastebin.

“C’mon.” He whispers, pulling you back into him, arms wrapped around your form. His hand makes its way into your hair, fingers twirling in the strands, keeping your head pressed firmly against his chest.

Carl swallows the lump in his throat, similarly unable to address the issue at hand. But maybe you’d rather he didn’t. “I love you, okay?” He ends up whispering, words uttered against the crown of your head.

You muster a little nod, shifting to worm your arms around his torso. You mirror his tone, quiet and hoarse, though that weight is finally beginning to disappear.

“I love you, too.”

[kellycataclysm]

How does harvey seduce lyra? What's his favourite way to bang her?

Okay so this was absolutely the most fun to write.

Here’s a little list of all the things he has in his repertoire, other than simply existing, with a few bonus head canons and thoughts thrown in. 

Setting the Scene. Lyra’s Harvey is romantic, polite, gentlemanly. The cliches work. He’d light candles, play soft music, bring her flowers, slow dance, watch the stars with her, open the door for her. Some may see this as old-fashioned, he just sees this as being sweet and attentive to the person he loves the most.

Words - Part One. Flirty banter. They’re smart dorks. The words are part of the attraction. Bonus points if there are bad jokes, puns, nerd chatter. 

Visual stimulus. Harvey will catch her eye with cliches that he knows work for her. The tie loosened, the rolled up shirt sleeves, a little peek of that chest hair, a spark in his eye from behind those glasses, and Lyra is FLUSTERED. Plus, he likes to look smart, even when he’s casual Harvey. So, if they’re out on a date you can be sure he’s looking smart and that moustache will be perfect.

Eye contact. The way he looks at her, like he’s still trying to figure her out but, goodness me, if he wasn’t entirely smitten from the second she walked into the clinic and awkwardly asked him for a neighbourly coffee. Plus, you can be sure he's going to do the finger hook under the chin for this, which leads to...

Physical touch - Part One. Harvey is all about the gentle caresses; he’ll hold her hand intertwining their fingers, touch her waist or the small of her back, brush her hair behind her ear, his fingertip lingering on those star earrings Lyra wears. The man is straight up handsy, especially first thing in the morning when they have just woken up.

Words - Part Two. Harvey has no problem telling Lyra that he loves her and saying things he knows will make her melt. We also know that she loves his voice. Deep, calm, firm but gentle. He’s well-spoken and to be honest, she’d listen to him read the phone book. 

Physical presence. Our man is tall in a way that makes her giggle and twirl her hair and he will use this to his advantage. He is 6'4. She is 5'3.

Slow. Sure, he’s ready to rock and roll with little more than a suggestive look from Lyra, because when he knows that she wants him, that definitely gets him going. However, Harvey loves to take his sweet time, setting the mood, making her feel like she is the only person on the planet for him, completely worshipping her. Then let’s also acknowledge that once he gets started, he is a massive tease. Yes, there are plenty of moments in which my spicy dorks are positively desperate for each other, but he loves to hear her begging for him.

Control. He’s bossy in the bedroom and she gets the full benefit of this. Making her feel good does it for him.

Physical touch - Part Two. Harvey really does have lovely hands and he knows exactly how to use them. You can guarantee she is getting off more than once. Don't look at me. I don't make the rules.

Words - Part Three. He loves to whisper things in her ear. Our girl has a HUGE praise kink and he knows this. He also loves to talk dirty to her. If the man drops an F Bomb in the heat of the moment, she will straight up dissolve. Readers may also have noticed that he only ever calls her Lyra when they are in adult situations. It is like she is in trouble. The best kind of trouble. 

By this point, Lyra is a mess and absolute putty in his hands. He can do absolutely anything he wants to her and whatever he chooses will make her feel incredible.

(Okay, did someone say soft dom Harvey?)

So, his favourite position. Lyra’s Harvey isn’t afraid to be a little adventurous. There was the time with the mirror. The video call when he was away. The time in the woods. The other time she made him watch. The time in front of the fire. The time of Harvey’s birthday in which there were many interesting things explored. Plus, you just know the desk in his office has seen more than just paperwork. He would eat her out for days and is also more than happy to try new positions. However, while he isn’t averse to bending her over the armchair, his favourite are the more intimate positions. The ones where he can hold her close (the man loves to spoon) and where he can look into her eyes and kiss her senseless. So, while he absolutely loves to pin her against a wall or have her on top of him so he can ogle her, his favourite and most frequently used is missionary. He’s in love with her and wants to watch as she falls apart for him, because of him. 

Thank you so much for sending this positively delightful question! It was so fun to answer! <3

[lokisgoodgirl]

Crossed Swords [Avenger! Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (9) You overhear something unwelcome. Mischief ensues. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smuttish. "Friends" w/ benefits. Graphic descriptions of Loki in fencing pants. Language. Mild violence. (w/c 4.2k)

You didn’t know what had possessed you to knock on Loki’s door. It had been over a week since Scotland, and visions of that night had consumed your mind like a virus. It was all you could think about, and you needed to see him. Alone. You squeezed the clan pin from his tartan sash that had somehow ended up in your possession into a fist as the other rapped the wood three times. The sharp edges stung into the soft base of your palm as you heard footsteps approaching. I’m here to return it before the tactics meeting. I’m here to return it, that’s all. It’s not weird. It’s normal, totally nor- “Don’t.” Loki’s deep voice had suddenly commanded through the wood. “Come back to the bed.”

The footsteps paused before retreating. Your stomach clenched, chest tightening while dread rolled up your body like a wave. Without thinking, you pressed your ear to the door. Loki moaned. A low, guttural sound you’d only heard when he was nine inches deep. You frowned, blood thumping in your chest. This was not an unexpected scenario, but hearing it first-hand smarted like vinegar. You took a step back and frowned at the sealed door, rage bubbling in your belly. He’s so fucking full of it, you thought furiously; instantly chastising yourself for being annoyed at all. Jealous. You’re fucking jealous...you fucking idiot. You squeezed the brooch a final time before throwing it harshly at the door. Shit. It hit the centre with a loud thud. Shitshit, Why did I do that?! Swearing under your breath you made a hasty retreat down the corridor, a plan forming as you made your way back to your room. There was just enough time before the tactics meeting. And you had a tactic of your own to deploy.

“Righto guys n’ gals, time for a few home truths.” Steve clapped his hands together, resting them under his chin as he stood at the head of the table. He’s the only one more annoying than Loki, you thought; letting your eyes flicker from your notepad to the pristine god sitting directly across the table. Loki found your covert gaze, immediately shooting you an almost imperceptible wink. Nope, still Loki; you decided, returning his presumptive gesture with a roll of your eyes. Thor sat beside him, the blonde’s hoodie making him look even bulkier beside his lean, perfectly toned brother radiating arrogance in his stupid tight t-shirt. Thor was staring again. You saw his chin dip lower, the swirling blue of his eyes darkening as he gave you that look. His lustful glare had become all too common around the Tower since the red dress incident. And it told you that you tactics were about to play out perfectly.

Fingers pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, being careful to keep looking at the Captain as you tilted your body towards the head of the table. The fingers brushed down your neck, stopping to lightly massage the dent of your collarbone before falling and undoing one innocent button just above your heart. “All this technology is nice and dandy, but if an enemy intercepts our comms; we’re jimmied. Kaplunkered, folks…unless you have the inbuilt qualities, of course.” Steve said. Your fingertips brushed back to your shoulder, digging deeper into the bare flesh and letting your dark chiffon blouse slip down. The fingers caught on a twinge. You frowned, closing your eyes with lips parted in a calculated silent sigh of pleasure. “...so we need to make more of an effort to ensure our bop em’, sock em’ techniques are up to scratch. The ol' S&M. Swords and muscles, folks.” The feeling of Loki’s gaze lingering on you touching yourself was palpable. His analysing stare sifting over your body was something you had become as accustomed to recognising as the waft of burnt toast. You let a smile twitch the edges of your mouth, opening your eyes to concentrate on Steve once again. “Later this afternoon we’ll run a group session, and we can make sure we’re all where we need to be.” You gave your shoulder a final squeeze, letting an expression that was entirely too sexual flash across your features. A low whimper erupted from Thor’s direction. “Asgardians?” Steve huffed in exasperation, making you turn to face the accused with innocent interest. “This applies to you, too.” Thor snapped to attention, babbling incoherently as his cheeks flushed. Loki’s eyes narrowed towards you, before he too looked toward Rogers with a nod. Cool as a New York winter morning. “I concur that the team skillset is somewhat lacking in the close combat department, Rogers. Particularly where blades are concerned.” he said with an air of haughtiness only he could muster. “I would be happy to whip them, into shape.” Whip. The word was onomatopoeic on his tongue. A soft beginning climaxing in a sharp crack which lingered on his lips. His hands lay clasped in front of him on the table, the long lines of his torso perfectly straight through impeccable posture. Those dark waves were tied back in a loose bun, strands hanging against his carved cheekbones. “Excellent.” Steve clapped his hands together again. “Everyone in the training hall in one hour under 'Master of Blades' Laufeyson, then.” he quipped.

I wonder if he had it loose while he was fucking her, you thought; an intrusive mental image making you fight the urge to squirm in your seat. Memories of his wild locks trailing your body filled your mind, how you’d always tug it roughly as he took his pleasure like an animal in heat. Did she do the same? You imagined Loki padding naked and sated across his rooms, casually scraping his luxurious hair still sex-damp up into the messy bun while manifesting the simple black t-shirt and chinos he was wearing. His rooms, you thought with a twinge. He’s never taken me to his rooms. Wetness slid between your thighs as you shuffled, feeling your jaw clench. Loki smirked, as Steve’s voice prattled in the background. You imagined how you would do things differently if he had his hair tied up like that while you fucked him. How your mouth would suck and bruise all along the uninterrupted landscape of pure masculine eroticism he called a jawline. From his chin to his earlobe. God, you wanted to fucking bite him. Hard. Like the bruise he had become accustomed to leaving on the curve of your shoulder. A gift. A remembrance. His mark. You suddenly wondered if anyone else around this table wore that mark.

There were mumbles of disapproval at the idea of Loki as a teacher while seats scraped back on the floor. You lifted your bag onto the surface, nudging a pen which rolled to the middle of the table. “Oops.” you muttered coyly, sliding the bag purposefully to the side. You leant forward, lowering your chest and giving both brothers a view down the neckline of your blouse. Thor’s jaw slackened, seeing the lacey lingerie cupping your breasts. “See you in an hour, boys.” you murmured innocently, beginning to slide the pen towards you. Thor’s glazed stare travelled from your cleavage to your face and back to your chest. The lace was a bright, rich red. Loki’s gaze rose from the salacious view down your top to your eyes. The icy set of his features made your nipples harden. A low growl rumbled in the blonde’s throat as you straightened, not looking back as you casually exited the room with a smirk. “Don’t even think about it, brother.” Loki snarled under his breath, feeling Thor’s biceps vibrate against his shoulder with covert mirth. “Oh brother…” the blonde growled, watching the curve of your ass as you disappeared out of sight. “I fear it is far too late for that.”

The Tower weapons training facility was on the thirty-second floor, but it may as well have been in the basement. There was no natural light, just overhead runners that made it feel like you could be anywhere.

You and Nat pushed the swing doors open in sync, letting them fly wide as the waiting group turned expectantly. You’d changed. A black sports bra underneath a loose racer-back top with high-waisted leggings completing the uniform. You smiled to yourself at the knowledge that the matching lace underpants to the red bra were safely concealed. Ready to be deployed if needed. When needed. “Nice of you to join us at last.” Loki sneered, projecting his voice as he ran his gaze appraisingly over you both. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Laufeyson” Nat shrugged, stretching her bicep over her chest. “Not everyone walks around in baggy sweatpants all damn day.” She threw Scott a knowing look. His eyes widened at the unexpected barb, pulling out the sides of his sweatpants with a pout before looking to Sam for support. Sam shook his head silently. Loki ignored her, striding forward from the head of the hall towards the group. “A 'Master of Blades." Loki announced theatrically as the mutters grew silent. "While the Captain may have noted this in childish jest, I can assure you it is no mere flippantry. Across these nine realms, my skills with steel are legendary...and it is your privilege to learn from me today.” “Is your boyfriend on his period or something?” Nat whispered, making you cover your mouth to suppress a laugh. “He’s not my boyfriend. God forbid.” you hissed, regaining your composure. “He gets off of this sort of stuff. Lording it over people. He’s a dick.” “Sometimes all they need to be is a dick.” Nat said solemnly, making you press a finger to your mouth to stifle another giggle. She smirked, pressing her lips together. Loki threw you both a scowl. You had been trying not to look at him, knowing that as soon as you did the familiar fizz between your legs would rise; but it was too late. His hair was still in that goddam messy bun, strands falling in thin curls around his jawline. The overhead lighting accentuated every shadow cast by his cheekbones, that fair skin utterly luminous. He wore a tight charcoal gym top that suddenly reminded you of the wetsuit. That fucking wetsuit, you thought; clenching at the memory of it peeling down his chiselled abs. The spandex clung to every curve of his muscles, his biceps perfectly encased beneath the fabric. Only his forearms were visible, the sight of thick veins running beneath his pale skin making saliva well under your tongue. Pristine white straps ran down his chest from over his shoulders, part of a high waisted swordfighting ensemble tight around his midriff. The material ran straight down his hips, snug to the crotch by design. They fell just above the knee, a pair of tight black socks tucked beneath the hem. Perfectly fitted, naturally. How does he look so fucking good in everything, you thought wistfully; watching the flex of his thigh muscles through the white cotton as he stalked towards you. The straps hugged his chest, bound tight. The mental image of riding them down his bare shoulders while you mounted him filled your mind; feeling his cock straining up between your thighs. The material creased at his hips, accentuating the bulge of his obscene manhood with every stride. He stopped, his face inches from yours. “Thank you for returning my relic.” he stated formally, hands clasped behind his back.

You grimaced, regretting letting your irritation boil over with your earlier theatrics. “That’s fine. Shall we?” Loki frowned at your brevity, searching your face before taking his place in the centre of the semi-circle. In a flash of green, a steel blade appeared in his grip. Dulled, of course. He twirled the twenty-four inches of metal fluidly, enjoying the reluctantly impressed faces of the team gathered. Scott ooo’ed. Sam elbowed him in the ribs. Loki held the sword in front of his face, hands clasped around the hilt; splitting the symmetrical perfection in two. Only one side was smiling. “My first wisdom about the sword” he enunciated regally, “is that it’s power comes from the force of your core.” He looked at you as he said it, sending chills shuddering through the base of your leggings. “The blade is an extension of your body. You direct it. Master it. You do not follow it.” He began to pace, swinging the sword theatrically. Each slice made a cutting whir through the air. “Every strike, every thrust, every stab should be calculated. Each offensive move or defensive counter-strike a graceful, fluid motion. Your impulses must be tamed, so that you are always in control. Dominating, like one would handle a submissive lover.” “God, even his tutorials are sexualised.” you whispered bitterly to Nat. She offered a weak eye-roll. “What was that, Agent?” Loki snapped, his stoic demeanour holding as he rested the blade against his shoulder. You sighed, feeling your adrenaline rise at his confrontation. God, you thought. Imagine him wearing those fucking fencing pants shirtless- “I said, even your tutorials are sexualised. Is that really necessary?” Loki let out a low chuckle, weaving the handle of the blade expertly as he stalked closer. “It is not a question of what is necessary” he hummed, running one long digit along the blade horizontal to his midriff. His eyes followed the finger, until it rested on the dulled tip. “At their basest level, all realms share two passions which are impossible to extinguish. Violence, and...sex.” His long lashes fluttered upwards, making your breath hitch.

“Mastering the art of the blade is inextricable with mastering the art of sex, Agent. One cannot be achieved without the other. At least, not in a manner which will cause any significant lasting impression.” Nat snorted beside you. “And you’ve mastered these arts have you?” you sneered, folding your arms. “You know I have, Agent.” he purred darkly, making your cheeks heat as every gaze fell on you. “But since you seem resistant to my methods of tutelage, let’s have a demonstration shall we?”

You shrugged, ignoring the churning of your stomach and extending your hand in expectation. Loki nodded towards the wall, where twelve immaculately positioned short-swords had appeared resting vertically. You pursed your lips, placidly making your way over and picking one up. You swivelled the blade in your grip, feeling the weight. A pin drop would have echoed. The onlookers stepped back as Loki stalked towards you like a panther on the hunt. A fencing mask appeared in his hand, swinging casually before he threw it to you. You grunted, tossing it to the side before raising your sword. Pretentious Asshole. The straps over his shoulders strained with every calculated, heavy breath; the ropes of thick muscle shifting as he perfected his stance. Suddenly, Loki lunged. A clang of steel resounded around the hall as your blade met his, blocking in a high X that spliced his sharpened features in two. He pushed forwards, making you stumble as you desperately tried to hold your ground. His chin was lowered, smouldering eyes burning into yours as the muscle of his forearm bulged in thick lines. “Defend yourself.” he growled, scraping his blade upwards and pivoting it with a flick of his wrist, immediately going for an underhand strike. You retreated, countering again; steel singing as metal slid to his hilt. “Fuck you, Loki.” you hissed, bringing your free hand up in a fist. He flinched, raising a palm to catch it. You kneed him in the ribs. A low rumble of mirth rippled across the semi-circle around you both. Loki barely reacted. Barely. But it was just enough. You leveraged the weight change, pushing his sword upward and ducking under his arm. The dull tip of your blade met his jugular as you pushed his bicep down with all the force you could muster, edging on the pressure-point of that taut neck you knew he loved sucked. Bet he got it sucked this morning, you thought venomously; panting as a reluctant grin stretched across Loki’s lips. You know he could kill you with one hand if he chose. With his obscenely large thumb, even. For now, it was a hollow victory to be sure. But you would take it. “You found my weak spot, it seems.” he murmured quietly, a knowing smile tugging at his dimples; eyebrows slanted in mock-surrender. “You’re easily distracted.” you panted, pushing away his bicep with a rough shove. There was a ripple of tentative applause as Loki straightened and you made your way back to your spot. Nat nodded approvingly.

“As demonstrated by our colleague here, the force of the blade is not always in its length, sharpness or girth. It is the manner in which it is wielded. With the innate, fierce hostility toward any who would overpower you.” Loki’s chin tilted as he spoke, analysing the effect of his words on those watching. On you. “She was not willing to let me overpower her.” he continued thoughtfully, fingering the edge of the blade. “If I was a mere man, I’d say she may even have succeeded.” “Hey- she did succeed, asshole.” Nat interjected, offering a nudge of solidarity. Loki chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that, Romanoff. A Master of Blades is not easily defeated by such a…” Loki's eyes ran down to your trainers and back to meet your narrowed eyes, tilting his head. “Let’s continue. Pairs. And I shall observe your efforts.” Your nostrils flared, a deep growl simmering in your chest. You were vaguely aware of a tall shadow beginning to loom over you. “My Lady, may I-” “Yes.” you snapped, still glaring at Loki as he slid his sword gracefully into a leather back-holster he had manifested out of thin air. You turned towards Thor, forcing a smile. “It would be my pleasure.” The blonde god’s eyes followed the movement of your lips, before licking his own. “Wonderful.” he rumbled after a pause. As you watched him join the others retrieving blades from the wall, your fingers found their way to the waistband of your leggings, folding them over.

Your eyes flickered back to Loki, swinging his blade fluidly in a series of joined twists and strikes that made your traitorous sex scream with wet, hot need. The next hour was blessedly uneventful; a series of test formations observed by Master Laufeyson as he circled the group like a shark. The relentless clang of metal rang in your ears as Loki’s deep voice reverberated, his sultry commands making it increasingly difficult to concentrate. “Inward cut to downward block, Lang. Upper cut to Alpha. Go harder.” Loki bellowed, the gravitas making a shudder roll down your spine. “Impress me.” he announced sanctimoniously, flicking the curling waves around his face back with a flourish. The dark god left your vision as you side-stepped, waiting for your chance to strike his elder brother. You absent-mindedly twisted the bottom of your baggy t-shirt, balling it at your back and tucking it into the folded leggings. A flash of red lace was visible. Inevitably, your gaze was drawn back to Loki. Standing there with his sword tucked in that ludicrously erotic back-holster. Straps. He’s all straps today; you thought, biting your lip.

That spandex top tucked into the fencing pants did nothing to hide the carved abdomen beneath it; the outline of his cock visible with every measured pace as he observed the team with haughty disdain. The leather of the back-holster was completely out of place and yet...perfectly natural. Loki's triangular shoulders flexed as he paced in a wide circle, condescension at their efforts simmering beneath half-lidded eyes. How you yearned to hook your fingers beneath those leather straps as he fucked you senseless, pulling him tighter. Deeper. Hearing him hiss as the tight skin cut underneath his armpits- “Shit.” you gasped, raising your hand just in time to block an attack from your blonde opponent. Thor snarled, walking you backwards. His wandering eyes travelled down your body, widening as he noticed the flash of red lace rising over your hip like blood in the water. His blade pushed closer to your face, pressing your forearm to your chest. The chill of the steel radiated against your skin as it hovered close to your cheek. “Tonight.” Thor murmured. “Your invitation. I accept.” “My...invitation?” you gasped, as his sword lowered to your throat; your own forced past the point of no return. Thor growled approvingly. “Never fear, I know of your unfortunate liaisons with my brother. It is not the first time a woman has sought the comfort of my mighty cock after being unfulfilled in his bed.” “My-? I..ohgod.” Your sword clattered to the ground as Thor’s hand slid firmly around your waist, pulling your hips towards his. The dulled blade slid down your neck, resting on the curve of your cleavage. You curled your hand in a fist, ready to punch him right in the eye. Suddenly Thor's blade was flicked away from your bosom, cast upwards from his meaty grip like a toothpick by another, larger length of metal. It hit the floor and bounced, rattling. “Brother.” Loki snarled, his sword raised to Thor’s throat; eyes flashing with warning. Gone was the short, more wieldy weapon; and in it’s place a longsword fit for battle. The dark god let his hardened gaze fall on you. “I credited you with more finesse, Agent.” he sneered. “Clearly I was mistaken.” Thor released you, making sure his hand slid lightly over your ass as he did so. You grimaced. “If Ordinances of the Colours do not apply in this realm, brother...then neither does the Covenant of the First Seed.” he said pompously. Loki snorted, tilted his chin to the ceiling with a mirthless chuckle before lowering it once again with renewed malice in his eyes. “Since when did you respect the Covenant of the First Seed, brother?” he spat. “In this realm or in any other.” Thor shrugged. “I see not how it is my fault that you could not satisfy your lovers, Loki.” With a flash of green, another mighty longsword appeared in Loki’s free hand. He flipped the handle effortlessly towards Thor, the implication clear. You suddenly realised that neither were dull blades. Nordic runes were engraved along the shafts, thick grooves running through the centre to ornate golden handles which gleamed garishly under the overhead lights. “Wait I-” you panted, before a hand wrapped around your forearm pulling you backwards. “We can’t do anything, just stay out the way.” Nat muttered, confusion etched across her brow. “Is this about you?” she added quietly, her voice tinged with pride as she watched the scene unfold. The brothers circled each other like feral wolves as the team shrank back warily against the wall. “I don’t know anymore.” you whispered, wondering what the hell you’d just done.

Both lunged at the same time, meeting in a clash of bared teeth and snarls and heavy steel. Thor pressed the blade towards Loki, bending him backwards before your lover kicked his brother’s feet from under him. The blonde hit the ground with a harsh thud, immediately rising to the sound of Loki’s menacing laughter echoing around the high ceiling. It was relentless. A series of nimble twists and strikes from the dark god outmanoeuvring his brother’s lumbering frame as metal struck and vibrated in the air. Strands of Loki’s hair flew wildly, sticking to his forehead as he wielded the weaponry like the master he was. The abject fury on his face had given way to something softer. Mischief, you thought; watching every pop of his thick forearms as he struck repeatedly into Thor’s feeble defence. His elongated thighs lunged with expert precision, the curves of his obscenely toned calves visible through the tight socks with every calculated thrust. Thor was clearly more accustomed to using his fists, the blade forming no more than a rustic barrier to his brother’s rage. Loki dodged his clumsy attempts with ease as the blonde left a trail of destruction through the gym. A chorus of shock rippled among the onlookers with every crunch as Thor’s sword met the wall while Loki spun away - his growls of frustration growing louder. You counted seven holes. Wait...make that eight. Thor lumbered towards his brother, hair swinging as his jaw clenched. Loki smirked, pacing quickly towards him with sword raised before dodging at the last moment and spinning behind. He pinned the edge of the sharp blade to his brother’s neck; a free arm fast around his chest as he rubbed the flat against a pulsating vein. Thor bellowed, his reddened face writhing as he struggled. “Yield.” Loki announced loudly, his voice frighteningly calm. “I will not.” Thor roared, twisting as Loki whispered something in his ear. You watched silently, eyes frantically scanning them as Thor’s brow furrowed in anguish. “Damn you, brother!” he shouted, as Loki released him with a final snarl of victory. Your eyes ran covetously over Loki’s thighs in those tight pants as he swaggered backwards; suddenly realising you had been holding your breath. “What the heck…” Steve’s whine pierced the air. “What is this?” The group turned sheepishly towards him, as Loki moved the sword in a casual, flourishing figure of eight. He raised his arm, sliding the Asgardian steel into the leather holster like a fucking tease. “My brother and I crossed swords, that is all.” he purred innocently, casting a glance towards his heavily breathing sibling still bubbling with silent fury. “Oh is that right?” Steve huffed, putting his hands on his hips as he strutted forwards, observing the piles of plaster littering the gym from Thor’s clumsy combat techniques. “Well you can clear up all this goshdarned mess.” he snipped, poking Loki in the chest. The god smirked, running a hand innocently through his hair. “And don’t think about using magic to tidy the blade depository, Laufeyson. Last time it was an absolute tarnation of a scene in there. Sheaths and daggers and morning-glories all over the heckin’ shop. All out of order from the wallchart, I may add.. which is clearly displayed, thank-you-very-much.”

You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. The thought of Loki arranging the blade depositary by hand was laughable. “Agent, you watch him.” Steve said, waving a hand towards you as he began to strut towards the door. “Make sure he behaves. I know I can count on you.” You stood open mouthed as the team began to assemble a pile of swords on the floor in front of you, mumbling their condolences. You sighed as Loki’s hard bicep brushed against your own. You didn't need to look at him to know that shit-eating grin would be stretched across his infuriatingly handsome face. The scent of heavy leather and tang of his fresh sweat radiating the heat between you made you feel light-headed. “You heard the man, Agent.” he murmured, that velveteen voice sinking into the gusset of your surely ruined panties. “The question is...do you think you have what it takes to make me behave?” There was a heavy pause.

“Inquiring minds wish to know...” he keened, his mirth palpable. “Shut up.” you snapped, as Loki chuckled. “Little does Rogers know that it is you, Agent, who needs to be brought to heel.” he purred, tucking his thumbs under the straps of the fencing pants and running them purposefully downward. He leant to the side when they met the base of the high waistband. His warm breath fanned your cheek; moist lips grazing your earlobe. “And Agent…” he hummed. “I know just where to start.”

Continued in Crossed Swords: To The Hilt Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

Tags (continued in comments)

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[cas-skz]

Stress Relief

Hongjoong x Fem!reader

| non idol au | friends with benefits to lovers |

He’s been your best friend and fuck buddy for over a year now, but what happens when a box of letters is found.

18+!!! MDNI plz&thnx

Warnings: Alcohol, intoxication, smoking weed bruh, mention of death, petnames (baby girl, sweet boy, good girl, brat, BDSM (dom & little duo, nipple play, spanking, sex toy, pinning), oral (m & f), possessive partners, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, squirting

Requests are open :]

writers note: sometimes I like to challenge myself and see how many rounds and finishes I can work into one story. Idk what my record is but this might be it. Okok lmao byeeee

cas xx

“Do you only visit me when you’re mad?” Hongjoong asked, leaning on the side of the doorframe. His head tilted as he eyed you, hair thrown in a messy bun and a bottle of tequila in hand.

He motioned for you to come in, closing the door behind you as you kicked off your shoes and plopped yourself on his large sofa.

“You’re good for stress relief,” you mumble, twisting the cap from the tequila before taking a long swing.

Hongjoong plopped down next to you, one arm wrapping around your shoulder as he grabbed the bottle, taking a drink himself. “Talk to me Vegas girl.”

You smacked his chest, a smile creeping onto your lips. It was his nickname for you, after having met at his bar’s Halloween party a year before.

“Just stupid work shit. My boss says all my designs suck and I can’t think of anything new, so she’s basically breathing down my neck all day.”

You grabbed the bottle, taking another drink. “Any my mother. I don’t understand why that woman is so eager for me to settle down and have kids.”

“I can help you have a kid”

You hit his chest again, “shut up” you laughed.

Working in the fashion industry was extremely time consuming, which left no time for real dating. Hongjoong just happened to stick around, growing closer over time. You caught feelings a while ago, but we’re to scared to admit it.

“Why do you think the creative block is happening?”

You sighed heavily, “I have no idea. The last good thing I came up with was after we spent Christmas together.”

A smirk took over Hongjoong’s face, his fingers playing with your hair. “That was a good Christmas.”

One thing you had in common was your hatred for the holiday. So rather than the present giving and fancy food, you two had ordered a bunch of junk, gotten a ton of weed and alcohol. Then spent hours fucking.

The tequila bottle was empty sooner than you wanted it to be, not realizing you had been chatting and venting about life for the past hour.

“Can you walk a straight line?” He teased, heading to his home bar and grabbing a few joints. He motioned for you to follow him to the balcony.

He watched as you tiptoed on a line in the wood, poking your nose with each pointer finger as you did. You were quite tipsy, but always had good balance.

“Yes I can, sir.” You smirk, brushing past him, squealing as he slapped your ass.

Your lungs filled with smoke as your eyes scanned over the city. The lights and sounds echoed, beautiful in its own way.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you, his head resting on your shoulder as you brought the joint to his lips.

You stayed like that for a while, silently smoking, relaxing into his arms.

His hand eventually started to sneak up the front of your shirt, his fingers sliding along the trim of your lace bralette before dipping inside. A soft moan escaped your lips as he started to twist and flick your nipple gently.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked, his breath hot against your ear.

“Maybe.”

His free hand slapped down on your ass, stinging the skin under the thing fabric of your leggings. “Cute.”

You rolled your hips into his, feeling his hardening cock through his pants. Giving your was a little wiggle, you hum happily

Hongjoong’s hand left your breast and quickly went to your neck, wrapping easily around it as he pulled your head back to look at him. “Don’t start that.”

“Or what?” You pushed into his crotch again.

You were definitely feeling the effects of the weed and tequila, it brought out your bratty side.

His grip tightened around your throat the smallest bit, “You know the punishment.”

You trailed your finger nails along his arm, watching as goosebumps followed in their path. “Punishment for what? Making your crumble under my touch?”

Hongjoong’s hand slid down your body, resting both his hands on your hips as he pulled your core into his, “Is that what you think?”

You spun in his grasp, placing a hand on his chest, “I don’t think. I know.” You leaned up on your tip toes, placing wet kisses along his jaw line.

Your opposite hand snuck into his pants, grasping his thick cock head, your thumb rubbing gently over the top, using his pre cum as lube.

Hongjoong moaned softly, his body tensed under your touch. You pushed his pants down a bit to expose his firm length, your hand giving him a few pumps before firming your grip a bit. You pulled him along by his cock back into the house.

You freed your grasp and pointed towards the couch, Hongjoong slapped your ass as you walked away and sat himself on the couch. He pulled his pants down a bit more, hand wrapping around his cock as he watched you.

You walked to the stereo system, putting on one of the playlists you made together.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” You smirked, eyeing his hand slowly pumping his length. You slowly took your shirt off, followed by your leggings before crawling onto the coffee table. “Eager aren’t you.”

“Says the one who’s already naked.”

You stopped midway on the table, leaning up and trailing your fingers across the lace strap of the bralette. “I still have this on. Why don’t you get rid of your clothes?”

He quickly stripped off his clothes as you propped yourself on the table, placing both your hands on your thighs as you eyed him.

Hongjoong grabbed you by the back of your head, not hard enough to hurt. He pulled you up to him, a soft whine escaping your lips as he roughly kissed you. “Are you gonna be a good girl now?”

You didn’t answer, instead gave him a little snarky look. He moved you with one hand, bending you over on the couch, your head on the cushion and ass in the air. You looked behind you as Hongjoong stroked his cock a few times before pushing deeply inside you.

He bottomed out and held himself there, his hand slapping down on your ass. You could feel yourself already leaking, walls clenching at the smallest amount of arousal.

You tried to move your hips but his hand slapped down, holding you in place. “You fucking brat.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” You contracted your walls around him, moaning softly. You looked at him with puppy dog eyes, biting your lip, “You can fuck me now or hold your load until my punishment is over.”

Hongjoong’s hips started to move the tiniest bit, his cock poking at your g-spot. His eyes locked with yours, “You want me to fuck your little pussy numb?” He pulled his cock mostly out before slamming it back in, repeating his actions. “Is that what you want baby girl?”

“Please, my sweet boy, please fuck me.”

His hips started to thrust, soft moans joining yours. You watched as his dark expression turned soft, his cock flowing in and out of your entrance. “Hongie…”’ You moaned, your release dripping down your legs.

Hongjoong pulled out quickly, his mouth clapping over your pussy, his tongue lapping and sucking at your clit. He slapped your ass again, making it sting red from the repeated smacks. “Come here.” He pulled you up into a kiss, his hands tangling into your hair.

You moaned into each other as Hongjoong sat on the couch, pulling you into his lap. You quickly lined his cock up with your entrance and slid down, starting to ride him, “You feel so fucking good.” You moaned, hips starting to pick up speed.

His hands reached up to grab your neck again, pulling your head to his as he gave you a sloppy kiss. “You like riding your sweet boys cock, don’t you?” He said against your lips, “That’s your fucking cock isn’t it?”

You smirked, kissing down his chin, up his jawline and sucking gently on his neck. “You’re all mine.” You whispered in his ear, your second climax quickly approaching. His cock firmed, hinting he was close to.

Hongjoong’s arms wrapped around you as your body picked up speed, his hips thrusting with yours. You brought your face back to his, pressing your foreheads together as your body started to shake. “Who’s your favorite little brat?”

Your bodies came to a stop as his cock started to twitch, filling you with his warm cum. “You know you are baby girl.” He kissed your lips softly, sweet tender kisses that made you tingle. “You belong to me.” He said quietly.

His words made you smile. You were both so possessive over each other, yet had no plans or even talked about committing. Things just worked out smoothly without labels. But fuck, you secretly wanted more.

You smiled down at Hongjoong, lifting your self off him, your combined releases dripping under you. “I like the sound of that, but now I have Taylor Swift suck in my head.” You laughed, skipping off to the bathroom.

He followed, using the bathroom after you before you both headed to his bedroom. You climbed onto his large bed, stopping when you spotted a wooden box on the nightstand. “What’s that?” You ask with a tilt of the head.

Hongjoong walked quickly to the other side of the bed and grabbed the box, his face flushing a deep red. “Hongie.” You shot him a ‘seriously’ look, since you two rarely kept secrets from one another.

“Seriously it’s nothing. Just a box.” He was trying to find a place to stash it, you were getting more and more curious.

“You’re being weird. What is it?” You laugh, crawling to the end of the bed where he was, you poked his side. “What are you hiding.”

Hongjoong held it a bit above his head, a small smile pulling at his lips from your tickling. “Stop, it’s stupid. You don’t want to know.” You kept poking and tickling, he backed into the dresser, causing the box to fall to the ground next to him.

You leaned over the bed, starting towards the flipped box.

“No, seriously Y/N, you don’t want to see that.”

When you flipped the box, there was a pile of letters and pictures of the two of you. Hongjoong sighed and sat on the bed, his head hung as you picked up the pile and scooted back.

“What…what is this?” You asked quietly, flipping through the pictures you had taken together over the past year. There were letters, with dates on them.

Hongjoong turned to you, looking shyly through his shaggy hair. “Everything I’ve wanted to say, but couldn’t.”

You flicked through the letters, just reading the dates. There were 12 in total, starting from the Halloween night you met. You swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.

“You can read them if you want.” His voice was shaky with nerves.

You moved to sit next to him, your heart racing as you looked at him. “Do you want me to?” You asked softly

He was quiet for a long moment before answering, “Yeah, I do.”

"Can you read them to me?"

You and Hongjoong went to the top of the bed, resting against the headboard.

He started the first letter.

“I didn’t expect to meet anyone after Haley died, especially someone who could make me smile like an idiot after an hour of knowing them. Dressed like a Vegas show girl, but with eyes that told a million stories. The most captivating smile. It hasn’t been this easy to talk in a long time, but they opened that side up again.”

He handed you the letter, along with a picture the bar photographer had taken of the two of you.

“You have me smiling like a fucking idiot. One night stands aren’t supposed to hang out until the early evening, at least from what I know. Your comfortable, your ora is calming. I feel guilty. Guilty for feeling happy. I don’t want to lose you, so friends will have to do for now.”

He handed you the second letter, you confirmed the date was the end of November, when you first hooked up with him.

Hongjoong spent a few more minutes carefully reading his letters and passing them to you. They all described his feelings towards you, how they grew, how he didn’t want to lose you. It made your heart do flips.

The last letter was from a few weeks ago, New Year’s Eve. He passed it directly to you, since it only had a few words on it.

“Tell her you fucking love her.”

You stared at the paper for a long moment, heart rate starting to increase again. Everything you had been to scared to admit to yourself, he had written on paper. It still scared you, those words. The thought of losing him. But what’s life without taking any risks.

“Look..I get it, if you don’t feel the same way.”

You quickly moved your body to straddle his, pressing your lips deeply into his as tears started to flow down your face. You didn’t want to stop kissing him, the sweet taste of his lips mixing with salty tears.

“Why are you crying?” He asked quietly, barely pulling away from your lips.

You looked into his eyes, “because I love you.” You paused, sniffing as he kissed away your tears. “And it scares the shit out of me.”

Hongjoong wrapped you in a hug, one that you returned happily. You held each other for a while, his hand slowly rubbing your back.

“I love you. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He said, leaning back against the headboard, brushing some hair behind your ear.

“I’m not going anywhere either.” You smiled, kissing his lips again. “You’re not gonna go all mushy on me now, are you?”

He laughed, holding onto you as he flipped you on your back. “The letters are as mushy as I can get. For now.”

Hongjoong dipped his head down to gently kiss your lips, trailing soft kissed down your body as he pushed your legs apart. His lips kissed your thighs before his tongue started to work at your clit, lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud.

Maybe it was the emotional confession, but you swore everything felt more erotic than any other time.

You ball your hand in his hair, cursing quietly as his tongue worked quickly causing your body to twitch and tremble.

Hongjoong’s arms held your body down as you rode out another high, his eyes meeting with yours as he worked his way back up your body, lips crashing into yours.

His eyes went dark again, a smirk crossing his lips as he unexpected shoved his cock in your swollen entrance. His hand wrapped around your neck again, “You make me so happy baby girl.”

You squirmed a bit under him, his pelvis pushed down to hold your core in place. “My sweet boy, this is torture.” You whimpered, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Exactly.” Hongjoong quickly leaned over to his bedside table, grabbing a small metallic bullet vibrator.

You whined quietly as the small toy started up, his hand slipped from your neck as he used it to lift himself a bit. He moved the toy slowly down your chest to your left nipple, pinching it between a finger and the toy. He repeated his actions with the right nipple.

Hongjoong continued to hold you down as he moved the vibrator down your body, sliding it between your folds and tucking it against your clit.

“Hongie…” you moaned, your breathing becoming more and more erratic as pressure built in your core. Hongjoong moved your arms above your head, hiding his head in your neck as he kept himself still inside you.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. Every little thing was pushing you closer to climax. He brought his lips to yours finally, kissing you sweetly as he laced your fingers together.

“You’re making me cum baby girl.” He moaned against your lips, his cock starting to empty another load inside you.

You could barely contain yourself, body shaking under his as the sound of your own juices mixed with the sound of the vibrator. “Baby….” You squeezed his hands with all your strength, his hips finally letting up a little as yours started to buck.

The vibrator slipped out and you started to grind your hips down quickly, juices leaking as you started to peak again.

“Please fuck me, my sweet boy. I need you to fuck me.”

Hongjoong let go of one of your hands to hold your hip as you arched off the bed, he slammed his cock deep in you as you released, screaming and cursing uncontrollably. His lips found yours again and you started to ride your high.

“Holy shit.” Hongjoong hissed, his own body reacting to your orgasm and joining in. He lifted you, holding you tight against his body as he slowly kissed your lips. You were barely able to hold yourself up, Hongjoong’s arms were the only thing hold you in place.

You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling dizzy and fulfilled more than ever. “Th-that was so good, my swe-sweet boy.” Your words were stuttered as you rested your head against his chest, trying to bring yourself out of the sex coma he had you in.

“Should I just carry you to the shower like this?

You nod, whining a bit as he climbed off the bed with you still attached. You wrapped your legs around him, moaning quietly at the sensation of his cock inside you, how wet and warm it felt.

“Fuck me again.” You said after finally catching your breath a bit, Hongjoong pulled back a bit, raising an eyebrow at you. “What? 3 loads in you isn’t enough?” He smirked, pecking your lips.

You giggled quietly, a shiver creeping up your spine as you felt his cock grow firm again. He pushed you against the wall, barely thrusting his hips.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” You placed a soft, but deep kiss on his lips. “I’m just starting to feel inspired.”

[hanmaitani]

Label Us Whatever

PAIRING - Tendou Satori x Reader WC - 1.3K GENRE - Angst, Suggestive What You Missed - after a month of being in your 'friends with benefits' relationship with satori, you realize that you were thinking about him subconsciously, and maybe it was time for a label.

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

You were still yawning as you got back to your dorm room door. It wasn't even light out yet and your arms felt heavy as you lifted them to put your key into the lock. You had to fiddle with it more than you wanted to, silently cursing yourself for never putting in that maintenance request to fix the lock that stuck.

"Morning, sunshine." The joke came from the dorm door across the hall. You turned to face your best friend with a sigh. The blond-haired boy was leaning against his doorframe, the door still open so that you could see past him and into his room.

"Why are you up so early, Eita?" You yawned around his name and blinked at him a few times, trying to shake the sleepiness out of your brain.

Eita scoffed and raised his eyebrows at you in disbelief. "Haven't slept yet, got a major paper due this afternoon, gotta finish editing." You peeked around him and saw an array of discarded coffee cups and energy drink cans near his desk and nodded in understanding. "Why are you coming home at 5am?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes, leaning against your still closed door. "8am class. Had to get ready." You brought your hand up to wipe at the corner of your eyes where remnants of sleep lingered, nearly scaring yourself when your hand brushed the keys still hanging out of your door as it came up.

"Where were you?" You opened your mouth to reply but you were too slow, he cut you off again. "Actually, nope, don't answer. I already know. Same place you've been for the last four nights."

You groaned and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the door. "Don't start Eita, it's not been that long."

"Really?" Eita's eyebrows raised in challenge, his hand gestured to the key in your door that you'd sworn was out to get you. "You know your door is only sticking in the frame because you've not been here, right?"

You sighed, going quiet as you looked down at the door. Had you really been done that long? You truly hadn't noticed.

You never planned to find your way back to Satori's dorm after class instead of your own. It was always something that happened spur of the moment.

You ran into each other. He texted you towards the end of your class. You got stressed and texted him.

After each time, you never meant to stay. You were just so tired and the thought of walking back to your own dorm just didn't sound appealing. Not when there was a warm bed you were already in.

Eita's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "C'mon, you're wearing his jacket." You stared at the jacket draped over your body. Purple fabric that was way too large to be your own. "Y/n, you said this was a 'no feelings' situation and you're getting a little close."

"It's none of your business, Eita!" Your voice raised at him as you glared, irritation flooding through your tired body and overtaking any sense that you had. "It's just whatever. Leave it alone. So I stayed a couple nights. What. Ever."

Eita rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You know what, it's too early. I'm not dealing with this." His door slammed shut before you could even process that you'd snapped at him.

"Fuck," you mumbled in frustration before turning back to your door. You jiggled at the handle and groaned, smacking the wood when it didn't open. "Stupid old building."

You shouldered the door and stumbled into your dorm as it gave for you. You couldn't help but feel foreign in your own room. You had been at Satori's for a while.

"Stupid Eita." You dragged the sweatshirt off your body, the warmth and comfort going with it, and tossed it onto your chair.

There was nothing between you and Satori. It was all whatever.

As much as you hated to admit it, Eita's words ricocheted around your sleep-deprived brain for the rest of the day. Especially when you stepped through the doorway of Satori's place instead of your own at the end of class. Again.

"You okay?" Satori asked, his eyes trailing after you as you entered. His long body stayed leaning in the frame as the door fell shut but his eyes trailed the sluggish nature of your movements, laced with concern.

"Just tired," you lied, "pent up." You tossed your bag onto his desk chair and stood there for a second, sighing as you looked around the room.

Everything in it was more familiar than you ever thought it would be. You couldn't understand why your first instinct at the end of a day was to come here. It was stupid, truly. You shook the thought out of your head as you felt him tug on your wrist.

He was moving to sit on his bed now, tugging you with him so you stood before him, body slotted between his legs. "Then just relax," his hands rubbed circles into your wrists before moving to your hips to draw you closer, "let me help." He mumbled the words as his eyes locked onto your throat, moving his lips to follow and press to the hollow just below it.

"Satori." You sighed out his name as you let your head relax, fall back loosely and succumb to his lips. He hummed in response, vibrating across your skin as his hands burning paths to the hem of your shirt. "We're still doing the 'no feelings' thing, right?" Your eyes were trained on the ceiling as the question tumbled out.

His movements faltered for a second before he fully pulled back to look at you, guiding your head back up with a palm so you could lock eyes. His brows were stitched together as you could see confusion paint its way across his face. "Where did that come from?"

You suddenly felt extremely embarrassed by the question that you let slip. Heat flooded up your cheeks as you stuttered. You hadn't even meant to ask. "I just- I mean I just wanted to make sure. You know, that we were still on the same page." You excused, worried that you'd crossed a line you couldn't uncross.

He was quiet for a moment, taking in how you trembled in his arms, soft circled under your eyes from the recent nights you'd spent with him rather than getting sleep.

It was like the conversation the two of you had to start this situation was floating between the two of you there. Like a screen asking if you really wanted to delete that label or keep it.

Satori pressed it for you. "Yeah, yeah," He nodded, "no feelings." He ignored the feeling of something tugging inside of him when he watched you sigh in response to the words, relief washing your features and relaxing your body.

You smiled at him, keeping the label. "Right." You nodded along with him, the relief feeling weird as it sat in your own chest. Eita didn't know anything. "We're just..." you scrunched your face looking for the right word, "whatever."

"Yeah." Satori sighed, a small smile on his lips as he leaned back to put his lips on your skin again. "It's whatever." He brushed his kisses against your collar bone as his hands slipped against your bare torso, heading for the latch on your bra.

"We're just whatever. No feelings."

The declaration, the agreement, the label was there to make you both feel better. But somehow, there was a tightness that it created in both of your chests.

You couldn't be bothered to think about it. It had lifted a weight. Created a certainty.

You and Satori were just whatever.

TAGLIST - OPEN

@faumpje @all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings

[r3dkn0ts]

huntress, knight and singularity congratulating killer!reader who’s brand new to the realm on their first 4k?

This sounds interesting! Let's give it a go!

Killers reacting to their Killer!S/O's First 4K

The Huntress / Anna - She's definitely celebrating with you in her own little way. Anna isn't a drinker, but she may offer you something physical like a massage or even carve a little animal for you out of wood. - Anna's gonna give you so many kisses on the forehead as congratulations. Many, many smooches.

The Knight / Tarhos Kovács - Bring out the mead! As expected, he's gonna bring Alejandro, Durkos, and Sander to celebrate alongside you two. It'd be stupid not to! - If you're not into alcoholic beverages, Tarhos will be a bit disappointed, but he'll get over it eventually. There are ways to celebrate festivities without losing your consciousness! - After the three guards have finished drinking all the mead they could find scattered around the borgo, you and Tarhos could finally have some alone time. Although, most of the time would most likely consist of you curling into his side and resting after taking off his heavy armor and brushing out his tangled hair.

The Singularity / HUX-A7-13 - Sorry to burst your bubble, but HUX simply feels no need to celebrate such a feat. Being an artificial intelligence has its benefits, but also its downsides. One of those downsides is not finding joy in much of anything, much less little accomplishments. - If you told him about your 4K and expected anything more than the emotionless "congratulations" that you received, sorry. Maybe if you got lucky, he'd give you a little pat on the head with his arm that isn't a gigantic rusted blade.

[zippidi-dooda]

You let out a strangled growl, lips quirked in a smile but brows knitted in exasperation. Hands clench in and out of the shape of a fist as they're pointed in the direction of the Destroyer King's neck. It never failed. Everytime he came about he let out some snarky quips that made you want to throttle him.

Maybe he didn't mean it, maybe he just had a bad day, maybe he'd come round later to apologize, you first thought.

But no. No, he never came back, never did something to make up for it. Sure, he didn't have to, he practically ruled the city so why would he bother? But you had half a mind to think he had something personal against you (not that you knew what) since he just kept returning to this place and giving some back handed jab at your state of being or your establishment.

A "No Benimaru's Allowed" sign was a tempting idea to add to your front door. But if you did that you'd probably get less business than usual. That wouldn't be good.

So, you settled for grunting in frustration and trying to keep an air of professionalism about you.

"You know, there's a saying that 'if you have nothing nice to say, don't say it at all,' I think you could benefit from it." You spoke, turning your back to him and trying to distract yourself with the succulents on the shelf.

"There's also the fact that people who can't take criticism will never grow, you could benefit from that."

Your eye twitched.

The smile stayed firmly on your lips as you tried to contain yourself. He was so childish for someone so admired, never allowing anyone to have the last word.

He wasn't even looking at you, simply perusing the sunny room with unbothered hands shoved in his navy sleeves. His sad expression was his natural resting pose, you knew that, but it only further irked you.

"You are the bane of my existence, Shinmon. You make me want to strangle you which is very unfortunate cause I also really want to kiss you. You're a big heartless oaf and I hate having to put up with your check-ins everyday."

"See? That's why business is always so slow. Can't keep friendly with that mouth."

More uncomfortable groans threatened to escape you and you ran frustrated hands through your hair.

The captain finally turned to you, stepping forward as you breathed out cursed obscenities. Dark rouge eyes seemed to tear into your very soul and you found yourself wishing he went back to ignoring you.

For each step forward you took a step back, stopping only when the dark wood behind you forced you to do so. A firm forearm was pressed against the wall just above your head, caging you between it and the shameless fire captain. Your heart beat faster with what you couldn't tell was fear, anger, or anticipation. Perhaps all three.

"And you should straighten out those feelings of yours before making such big statements like that."

He was making you uncomfortably hot, his natural heat starting to seep into your clothes. His breath smelt of warm cider and rich spices.

"Yeah, like you've ever done the same." You scoffed. It was getting hard to look him in the eyes. His soft, round beautiful eyes.

He shrugged, "maybe not," then leaned closer till his straight nose brushed against your own, "but I know how and when to take action. You could learn a thing or two from me if you didn't waste your time mulling over stupid contradictions."

There wasn't room for response as the captain's lips locked on yours. Brash and hungry, sucking and nipping whenever desired, free hand reaching up to cradle your neck and cheek to guide you further. Firm and deftly, the fire making all your senses freeze and melt with the sensations. You weren't sure this was the same intolerable guy anymore.

When he pulled back, you were stiff and flaming, practically short circuiting, but he was unbothered as ever. As if he hadn't just enacted the most heart jerking moment in your life. His plump lips still curled down into their pout, his eyes still turned down sadly, his fair skin still undisturbed by any pink hue.

He settled his hands back into his sleeves, "maybe now you'll learn to act first, complain later. It'll save ya plenty of time." Then he left the shop as if he was going though the same old routine.

You were completely baffled. Did he really just leave like that? Should you be mad? How were you going to get on with your day now? And every other day to follow?

You would never understand him.

"... I thought you were supposed to stop fires, not ignite them ...."