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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

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Meant to be His

Day 30 → Innocence Kink 💋 CEO!Lando Norris

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, breeding, and manipulation

Kinktober Masterlist

Lando leans back in his sleek, black leather chair, eyes glued to the door of his office. It’s been like this for months now. You waltz in every morning, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of him, completely unaware that he’s one wrong word away from losing it.

He tightens his grip on his Montblanc pen, watching you through the glass wall as you flutter about the office, bow in your hair, soft pink dress neatly pressed, kitten heels clicking softly against the marble floors. Innocent. Always so damn innocent.

He’s sure it’s an act. It has to be.

“Mr. Norris, do you need anything else before your meeting at two?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts like it’s nothing, and the soft, sweet tone of it only aggravates him further.

Lando exhales sharply, spinning his chair back to face his computer, pretending to check an email that he isn’t actually reading. “No. I’m fine.”

There’s a pause. You’re still standing there, he can feel it. His jaw tightens. She’s waiting for something, but what? An opportunity to toy with him again, no doubt. He glances up, catching your eyes.

“You sure? You seem tense,” you ask, that genuine concern on your face so perfectly played. You look so innocent. But Lando doesn’t buy it. Not anymore.

“I’m sure,” he says flatly, forcing his voice to stay calm. You smile, nodding before heading out of his office, your perfume trailing behind like some kind of torture. Sweet, light, impossible to ignore.

His eyes follow you as you return to your desk, and for the life of him, Lando can’t figure out how you do it. How you manage to walk around here, day after day, pretending like none of it affects you. The looks, the way he tenses up every time you’re near, the way his pulse races when you lean over his desk just a little too close to hand him a file.

You. Must. Know.

But you carry on, head buried in textbooks between calls, your fingers skimming through pages of what looks like accounting formulas while you answer emails. How the hell does someone focus on their studies while managing the workload he throws at you? And always with that ridiculous little bow in your hair. It drives him insane.

His phone buzzes, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glances down.

Max: Dinner tonight?

Lando ignores the text. He can’t think about dinner right now. His attention is on you, watching the way your lips move when you hum softly to yourself, tapping away at your keyboard. Do you know what you’re doing? Do you have any idea?

No, of course you do. You’ve got him right where you want him — second-guessing everything. Lando feels his frustration simmering, the tight knot of control he keeps around his emotions starting to fray. He’s built his career on maintaining composure, being the one who’s always a step ahead, but this — you — are throwing him off balance.

He hates that.

“Hey.” His voice cuts through the stillness, sharp. He doesn’t know what he’s about to say, but he’s tired of staying silent. “Can you come in here for a second?”

You look up, slightly startled, and he watches as you smooth down your dress before stepping into his office. The door closes with a soft click behind you.

“Yes, Mr. Norris?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, eyes narrowing as he watches you. His thumb taps rhythmically on the arm of his chair, thoughts racing. Your tone is so polite, so professional, as if you’re not in the slightest aware of the mess you’ve made of him.

“That report — did you finish it?”

Your head tilts slightly, confused. “Yes, I emailed it to you this morning. Did you need something else added?”

“No.” Lando pauses, his eyes lingering on the bow in your hair. It's small, white, and so out of place in this cold, polished world of corporate dominance. Yet you wear it like it belongs. It makes him irrationally angry, but he can’t say why. “I got it. You can go.”

There’s that pause again, your eyes searching his face for something, but you don’t push. You never push. Instead, you nod politely and turn to leave, but something inside him snaps.

“Why do you do that?” His voice is harsher than he intends, but he doesn’t care.

You turn slowly, brows furrowed. “Do what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely toward you, frustration bubbling over. “You walk around here like nothing bothers you. Always … smiling. Always so damn-” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He doesn’t want to say it, but it’s on the tip of his tongue. Innocent. Always so damn innocent. He grits his teeth instead. “Forget it.”

You blink, clearly taken aback. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”

The sincerity in your voice almost makes him feel guilty. Almost. But no, this is part of it, isn’t it? You play this innocent card so well, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to him. He stands abruptly, crossing the room in two quick strides until he’s standing in front of you.

“Wrong?” His voice lowers, eyes burning into yours. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed, still confused. “Then what-”

“You can go.” He cuts you off, voice tight, jaw clenched. “Get back to work.”

Your lips part as if to say something, but you close them again, giving him one last glance before nodding and stepping out of his office. The second the door closes, Lando exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair.

He’s losing control. He never loses control. Not like this. He doesn’t lose sleep over things he can’t have. That’s not who he is. But you — you’re making him unravel.

He moves back to his desk, his eyes once again finding you through the glass. You’ve already gone back to work like nothing happened, typing away, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him. How can you be so unaware?

Lando clenches his fists, determination settling in his chest. No, you’re not unaware. You can’t be. You’ve been playing this game for months, testing him, pushing him to the edge, making him question everything he’s built. But if this is a game, it’s one he’s determined to win.

This ends soon.

Whatever you’re doing — whether you’re aware of it or not — Lando is done letting it get to him. He’s done letting you have the upper hand.

It’s time to do something about it.

***

The morning sun filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lando’s office as he sits behind his desk, trying to drown himself in spreadsheets and stock analyses. But his focus wavers every few minutes, his eyes drifting toward your desk, watching you chew absentmindedly on the end of a pen while scrolling through emails. The quiet hum of the office is nothing more than white noise, and no matter how hard he tries, you’re there. In his head. In his line of sight.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, frustrated, trying to get a grip. Yesterday’s conversation replays in his mind, your wide-eyed confusion, the softness of your voice, the bow in your hair. He told himself he’d put an end to it, but now, here you are again, all cute dresses and innocence, as if you haven’t been driving him insane for months.

Then, he sees it.

You’ve unwrapped a lollipop, the plastic crackling softly as you slide it into your mouth, your lips closing around the candy in a way that feels intentional. Lando’s stomach tightens. His jaw clenches as he watches the slow swirl of your tongue around the stick. He knows he should look away, that he’s letting himself spiral, but his eyes stay locked on you. You’re concentrating on your screen, tapping at the keyboard, entirely oblivious to the effect you’re having on him.

He shifts in his chair, feeling the sudden constriction in his pants, the tightness unbearable. His breath comes harder, shallow. He balls his fists on the desk, eyes narrowing. That’s it. He’s had enough.

He stands abruptly, the chair scraping behind him. His body moves before his mind catches up, the determination settling into his steps as he crosses the office in long, forceful strides. He doesn’t even bother knocking. He doesn’t need to. He owns this place.

“Come into my office,” he says, voice low, tight.

You look up, startled, your lips still wrapped around the lollipop. “Now?”

“Now.”

You blink, eyes wide as you quickly nod, pulling the candy from your mouth and holding it awkwardly between your fingers. You stand, smoothing out your dress as you follow him, heels clicking softly behind him.

The second you step inside, he closes the door with a deliberate, heavy thud. His office feels smaller today, the air thick, charged. He doesn’t even look at you as he walks to his desk, his movements sharp, controlled, as if he’s barely holding onto the last threads of his restraint.

“Did I — did I do something wrong?” Your voice is soft, confused, and that only makes it worse. How could you be so unaware? How could you stand there, looking at him like that, when he’s been on edge for weeks?

Lando’s silence hangs heavy between you, and you shift nervously, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. That innocent little dress that clings to your waist just enough to remind him of every single curve.

“If I’ve made a mistake-”

He cuts you off with a sharp movement, his arm sweeping across the desk, sending papers, pens, and his phone crashing to the floor in one swift motion. The noise echoes through the office, loud, final.

You jump, eyes wide, taking a step back. “Mr. Norris-”

“Enough.” His voice is deep, guttural, and he steps toward you, crowding your space, forcing you backward until your thighs bump against the edge of the now-cleared desk. “You think you can keep teasing me, walking around here like this?”

Your eyes widen, genuine confusion etched on your face. “I-I’m not — I didn’t-”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.” His hands find your hips, fingers digging in just hard enough to keep you there, to stop you from retreating. You’re trapped, and he knows it. He’s planned it. His frustration, his anger — it’s all coming to a head, and there’s no going back now. “With your little dresses, your bows, that sweet little act. All of it.”

Your breath hitches, and for a second, Lando thinks he sees it — something flicker in your eyes. But then your voice, soft and trembling, breaks the moment. “I haven’t-”

“Innocent,” he spits the word like it’s a curse, fingers tightening on your waist. “Always so innocent. But if you’re going to act like that, you better be ready to pay for it.”

Your eyes dart to the door, panic creeping into your expression. “Mr. Norris, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I swear, I-”

Before you can finish, he pushes you down onto the desk, the cool surface pressing against your back. His hands slide up your thighs, bunching the fabric of your dress as he leans over you, breath hot against your ear.

“You really think I believe that? You’ve been teasing me for months. The way you look at me, the way you walk around in those outfits like you don’t know what it does to me.” He’s practically growling now, his control slipping further with every word. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I haven’t-” You shake your head, breath coming faster, your voice breaking. “I swear, I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off with a hand on your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher, exposing the soft skin of your legs. His breath catches in his throat as he finally sees it — the tiny bows decorating the edges of your underwear. Innocent, delicate, just like everything else about you.

“Of course,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, his voice dark with disbelief. “Even your underwear has bows.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, lips trembling as you try to form words, but nothing comes out. You’re confused, scared even, but Lando’s mind is too clouded with months of frustration to see it clearly. All he knows is that you’ve pushed him too far, and now he’s about to push back.

Lando’s fingers toy with the delicate bows on your underwear, his grip tightening, anger laced with disbelief. Every detail of you, from your soft lips to the innocent little things you wear — it all feels designed to torment him. And now, this. The proof in the form of those bows only furthers his conviction that it’s all some calculated game. You have to be messing with him.

“Why would you wear something like this?” His voice is low, dark, as he tugs at the fabric just enough to make you gasp, your body trembling under his. “It’s pathetic. Like you’re trying to act sweet and untouched, but we both know the truth.”

Your eyes are wide, pleading, but you don’t say anything. Lando’s face hardens as he looks down at you. He doesn’t believe a word you’ve said — how could he? He knows the games women play, knows how they can hide behind innocent faces while pulling the strings behind the scenes. You’re no different. You can’t be.

But he needs to be sure.

Lando leans over you, his body pressing down on yours as his hands slide higher, pulling your underwear aside. The fabric moves easily, but what he finds next stops him cold.

His fingers pause, eyes narrowing as he pushes a little further, a soft pressure meeting his touch. His pulse quickens. For a second, his brain can’t quite process what he’s feeling. There’s no way. Not you.

He pushes a little harder, confirming what his mind refuses to accept. You tense beneath him, your breath shaky, and that’s when it hits him like a truck.

You’re a virgin.

A wave of shock floods through him, wiping away the rage that had been bubbling up inside. His mind races, trying to reconcile the idea of you — the teasing, innocent act he thought you’d been playing — with the reality of what he’s just discovered. You’ve never been touched. Not by him. Not by anyone.

He pulls back slightly, staring down at you in disbelief. “You're serious.” His voice comes out harsher than intended, but it’s the only thing that manages to escape his mouth. His breath hitches as the realization fully settles.

Your lips part, trembling. “I-I told you,” you whisper, barely able to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t … I didn’t …”

Lando stares at you, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in his mind. The shy looks, the blushing, the fidgeting. It wasn’t an act. You really are innocent. You’re untouched. Pure. And all this time, he’d been imagining the worst. Misreading every single thing about you.

A flood of possessiveness surges through him, stronger than anything he’s ever felt. He’s the first. He’s going to be the only one. His hands slide up your body, slower this time, deliberate. You’re his now. Completely. You’ve always been his, but now it’s clear. He’ll make sure of it.

“You're mine,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. His eyes burn into yours as he leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Do you understand that?”

You swallow hard, nodding slightly, though your face is still a mix of fear and confusion. He doesn’t care. You’ll understand soon enough.

He reaches for the lollipop laying abandoned on the desk, the one you had been sucking on earlier. Without breaking eye contact, he brings it to his mouth, licking the candy slowly, his tongue swirling around it just as he’d imagined watching you do the same. It’s sweet, just like you.

Then, without warning, he presses the lollipop back to your lips, his eyes darkening. “Open your mouth,” he orders softly.

You hesitate for a second, but his gaze is unrelenting, powerful, and you obey. Your lips part slowly, and he slips the lollipop into your mouth, watching with satisfaction as you close your lips around it. There’s something primal in the way he watches you now, the way your innocence only fuels the possessiveness raging inside him.

He leans down, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. “Don’t leave after work today,” he whispers, the words rough and commanding. “You’re coming home with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes wide, but you don’t protest. You don’t argue. You just look up at him, the lollipop still between your lips, and nod. He smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek before pulling back, taking in the sight of you sprawled on his desk, dress bunched around your thighs, your lips wrapped around the candy he gave you.

His.

All of you.

***

The hours after Lando’s quiet command crawl by at a pace that feels like torture. He watches you from his office, stealing glances through the glass partition. You’re fidgety, distracted, clearly unsettled by what transpired. Your fingers keep brushing the spot on your lips where his lollipop had been, your gaze downcast, stealing anxious looks toward his office door. He finds it hard to focus on anything else, his mind swirling with the anticipation of what’s coming.

Finally, the workday ends. The usual shuffle of employees packing up to leave passes in a blur for him, and when he sees you stand to collect your things, his heart kicks into overdrive. This is it.

You look hesitant as you walk toward the door, but Lando meets you in the hallway before you can even reach for your coat. His voice is quiet, commanding, as he speaks. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

You don’t say a word, just nod and follow him. It’s all you can do. You’re out of your element, swept up in a current you don’t understand, but something about his presence makes resistance feel impossible.

The elevator ride down to the underground parking lot is thick with tension. He can feel your anxiety radiating off you in waves, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. His hand rests on the small of your back as you step out, guiding you to his sleek McLaren. The doors unlock with a soft click, and he gestures for you to get in.

Once inside, the car roars to life with a low, throaty hum as Lando pulls out of the parking garage, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as they hit the road. For a while, the drive is silent, save for the soft purr of the engine and the occasional sound of your nervous breath.

Lando’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, but he allows one hand to drift away, resting on the center console. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re staring out the window, fingers twisting in your lap, the tension in your shoulders palpable. His gaze lowers, following the line of your thighs beneath your dress, and something in him snaps.

Slowly, deliberately, he lets his hand fall to your knee, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. The effect is immediate — you stiffen, your breath catching in your throat, but you don’t move. You don’t push him away.

His hand stays there, warm and firm, his thumb tracing slow circles on your thigh as he drives. He doesn’t speak, but the weight of his touch says more than words could. It’s a reminder, a promise. You’re his now, and tonight, he’s going to make sure you know it.

The tension between you both is electric, humming in the space between his hand on your leg and your racing pulse. You bite your lip, a futile attempt to steady your breath, but Lando can sense it — the nervous anticipation that’s eating at you, the mix of fear and something else, something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge.

The drive is short, the distance between his office and his penthouse a blur. Before you know it, he’s pulling into the private garage beneath his building. The McLaren comes to a smooth stop, and Lando kills the engine, the silence that follows heavy and oppressive.

“Let’s go,” he says quietly, stepping out of the car and coming around to your side before you can even unbuckle your seatbelt. He opens the door for you, his hand outstretched. You hesitate for only a second before placing your hand in his, allowing him to help you out.

His grip tightens as he leads you toward the private elevator. The doors close behind you with a soft hiss, and the moment you’re sealed inside the confined space, you feel his presence even more intensely. His hand slides up your back, fingers pressing into the curve of your spine as the elevator ascends.

When the doors slide open again, you’re in his penthouse — a sprawling space of glass and steel, modern and minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. But you don’t have time to take it in. Lando’s hand is still on your back, guiding you through the entryway, through the open living space, until you’re standing in the middle of his bedroom.

The door clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing through the large, empty space. You can hear your own breath, shallow and quick, the thud of your pulse loud in your ears. But Lando is calm, methodical, as he steps in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding.

Your legs feel weak, but you take a step forward. His hands find your waist immediately, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your temple as he presses a kiss to your hairline.

“Do you know what happens now?” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You shake your head, barely able to think, let alone respond. Lando pulls back just enough to look down at you, his expression unreadable. “You’re mine. I told you that.”

You nod, swallowing hard, unable to speak. You can feel his hands moving again, tugging at the hem of your dress, pulling it up slowly, exposing more and more of your skin until it’s bunched around your waist. You gasp softly, feeling his hands on your bare thighs again, the same spot he’d touched in the car, but now his touch is more urgent, more possessive.

He pushes you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress as he leans over you, his eyes dark and focused. “I’m going to make sure of it,” he murmurs, his hands slipping beneath your thighs, spreading them apart as he positions himself between your legs.

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers find the barrier again, that small, fragile proof of your innocence. He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at you.

“You really were telling the truth.” His voice is low, almost disbelieving, as if the idea of you being untouched still doesn’t fully compute in his mind. He’s quiet for a moment, and then his expression shifts, a dark, possessive gleam entering his eyes. “You’re mine,” he whispers again, and this time, there’s no doubt in his voice.

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes filling with tears, overwhelmed by everything — the intensity of his gaze, the feel of his hands on you, the weight of what’s happening. A tear slips down your cheek, and Lando’s lips are on you immediately, kissing it away, his breath warm and soft against your skin.

“Shh,” he coos, his voice soft now, almost tender as he kisses your tears. “Don’t cry. You’re all mine now, and I’m going to take care of you. I promise.”

His hands are gentle as he pushes through the barrier, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. You let out a soft, broken gasp, and Lando leans down to kiss you, swallowing the sound as he moves deeper. His lips trail over your cheek, your jaw, your neck, kissing away every tear, every bit of hesitation.

Lando’s grip on your hips tightens, his breath coming in slow, deliberate waves as he watches your every move. There’s a fierce, possessive satisfaction in his eyes as he presses further into you, feeling the way your body reacts, the soft gasps escaping your lips, the way your fingers curl into the sheets. He’s in complete control, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

You’re his now. Completely. And he’s going to be the first — the only one — to take you over the edge. That thought alone sends a surge of pride through him, dark and possessive. The world has never touched you the way he’s about to. You’re untainted, and he’s going to keep it that way.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice low and rough as his hand finds your chin, tilting your face toward him. Your eyes flutter open, wide and unsure, still glistening from the tears he kissed away moments ago. There’s an innocence in your gaze, a vulnerability that cuts through the sharp edge of his dominance for a moment, but he pushes that aside. He wants you to look at him — not in fear, but in understanding.

“This is how it’s going to be,” Lando murmurs, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he holds your gaze. “I’m the only one who gets to do this. No one else. Ever. Do you understand?”

You nod, your breath catching in your throat, and he smirks. “Say it,” he demands, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Say that you’re mine.”

“I-I’m yours,” you whisper, your voice shaking, but there’s something else in it now. A tremor of something more than fear — something closer to surrender.

“That’s right.” He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as his voice drops to a whisper. “You belong to me. And I’m going to show you exactly what that means.”

He moves deliberately, his hands sliding down your body, claiming every inch of you as he goes. His touch is firm, authoritative, yet maddeningly slow, building a tension between you that leaves you trembling beneath him. Lando can feel the way your body reacts to him, the way you instinctively arch into his touch, even though you try to hold back. It makes him smile, dark and knowing. You might be innocent, but your body is learning quickly. It’s beginning to respond to him, just like he knew it would.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his hand sliding between your thighs, teasing, as his fingers brush lightly against your skin. “You want this. I can feel it.”

You make a soft sound in the back of your throat, a shaky, half-swallowed whimper, but you don’t pull away. You don’t deny it. Because deep down, even if you don’t want to admit it, you do want this. You want him. He knows it.

Lando’s lips curve into a satisfied smirk as he continues his slow, torturous movements, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm with the soft gasps that escape your lips. He watches every flicker of emotion on your face, every shiver that runs through you as he pushes you closer to the edge. You’re so close — he can feel it.

“I can feel you trembling,” he whispers, his voice dark and seductive as he leans down, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “You’re almost there, aren’t you? You’ve never felt this before, have you?”

You shake your head, your breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps now, and Lando feels a rush of satisfaction. He’s right. No one else has ever brought you this close. No one else has ever touched you like this. And no one else ever will.

“I’m going to be the first,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck as his hand moves with agonizing precision, his fingers coaxing soft, breathless sounds from you. “The only one to make you feel this way. Do you know how good it’s going to feel, baby? How good I’m going to make you feel?”

Your only response is a soft whimper, your body arching beneath him as you inch closer to that tipping point. Lando can feel it in the way your body moves, the way your fingers clutch at the sheets, desperate for something to hold on to. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, his voice barely a whisper.

“Don’t hold back,” he coos, his voice dark and commanding. “I want to see you fall apart for me.”

His words send a shiver through you, and Lando can feel the way you’re teetering on the edge, the way your body is trembling, so close, so painfully close. But he doesn’t let up. He won’t let you slip away from this.

And then, with a deliberate, calculated move, he pushes you over the edge.

The gasp that leaves your lips is soft, broken, and Lando watches with dark satisfaction as your body tenses, your eyes squeezing shut as you finally fall. He keeps his touch steady, guiding you through it, his voice low and soothing as he coaxes you through the overwhelming rush of sensations.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his hand still moving in that same, steady rhythm. “Let it happen. Let me see you.”

Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps as your body trembles beneath him, and Lando can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips. He’s the first to do this to you. He’s the only one who ever will.

As you come down from the high, your body slowly relaxing, Lando’s hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He leans down, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice soft but firm. “And I’ll never let you forget that.”

You don’t respond, your breath still shaky as you lie beneath him, your body completely spent. But Lando doesn’t need a response. He knows you understand. You belong to him now, in every way that matters.

***

Lando wakes early, the soft light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains in his penthouse bedroom. The city outside is still and quiet, a far cry from the chaos of the day that is yet to begin. He blinks, his eyes adjusting to the gentle light, and then his gaze falls on you, lying beside him, still asleep.

The sight of you — curled up under the covers, your breathing slow and peaceful — does something to him. It’s as if, in sleep, you’ve become even more vulnerable, even more innocent. Your face is relaxed, lips slightly parted, your hair falling messily across the pillow. There’s a softness to you now, a contrast to the tension that had filled the air between you both the night before.

Lando’s chest tightens as he watches you, his mind racing. How could someone like you, with your wide-eyed innocence and shy demeanor, have this kind of effect on him? He’d never wanted anyone like this before, never felt this need to possess, to claim. But with you, it’s different. It’s all-consuming.

You stir slightly, shifting beneath the covers, and Lando feels his pulse quicken. Even in sleep, you’re irresistible to him. He can’t stop looking at you, drinking in every detail — your soft skin, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you dream.

He feels the pull again, that deep, primal urge to claim you in every possible way. He wants to feel you, fully, like he never has before. The thought sends a wave of heat through him, and before he can stop himself, his hand is moving, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His fingers trail softly down your cheek, barely touching, but even that small contact ignites something inside him.

You don’t stir, still lost in sleep, and Lando’s gaze darkens. He’s always in control, always dominant — but there’s something about the idea of taking you like this, of being the first to truly have you, that sends his desire spiraling out of control.

Slowly, deliberately, Lando shifts closer to you, careful not to wake you. His hand moves down your body, sliding under the covers, fingers grazing your skin. He inhales deeply, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your warmth, your softness. You shift slightly again, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you don’t wake.

“Shh,” Lando whispers under his breath, his voice barely audible. “Just stay like that, baby.”

His hand moves lower, slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, and he feels you tremble slightly in your sleep. He’s gentle, careful not to startle you, but he can’t deny the hunger building inside him, the way his body aches to be closer to you.

You stir again, your body instinctively shifting toward his touch, and Lando bites back a groan. The feel of you — soft, warm, so completely vulnerable — drives him to the edge. He leans down, pressing his lips to your neck, kissing the delicate skin just beneath your ear.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice dark and low. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

He pulls back, just enough to see your face again. You’re still asleep, still completely unaware of the effect you have on him, and something about that only spurs him on. He slides his hand down further, positioning himself between your legs, his breath coming in slow, deliberate breaths as he moves.

He’s careful, so careful, not to wake you. This is his moment, the one he’s been waiting for. He pushes forward slowly, his body tense with anticipation, his heart pounding in his chest. You let out a soft, barely audible whimper in your sleep, but you don’t wake.

Lando’s jaw tightens as he feels the first resistance, the proof of your innocence, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, letting the satisfaction wash over him. You’re really his. No one else has ever been this close to you, no one else has ever taken this from you. And now, it’s his.

He moves slowly, savoring every second, every soft sound that escapes your lips. You shift beneath him, your body instinctively reacting to his touch, and Lando’s grip tightens on your hip, holding you still.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice thick with need. “Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You stir slightly, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he moves deeper, but your eyes stay closed. Lando watches your face intently, his breath shallow, his entire focus on you. You’re so tight, so perfect, and the way your body responds to him only fuels his desire.

He moves carefully, slowly, not wanting to hurt you, but the heat between you both is undeniable. His control is slipping, and he knows it. But he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop. Not until he’s completely inside you, not until he’s claimed you fully.

Your body tenses as he pushes further, a soft moan escaping your lips, and Lando bites down on his bottom lip, trying to stay focused, trying to hold back. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you — not yet. But the feel of you around him, the way your body tightens and trembles beneath his touch, drives him wild.

You make another soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and your eyes flutter open, just barely. You’re still half-asleep, your gaze unfocused, but you feel him now. You feel what he’s doing.

“L-Lando?” You whisper, your voice barely audible, thick with sleep and confusion.

“Shh,” Lando soothes, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

You shift slightly beneath him, your brows furrowing in confusion, but you don’t pull away. Lando watches your face carefully, his breath hot against your skin as he moves deeper, taking his time, savoring every inch of you.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “Just let me in. Let me have all of you.”

You let out a soft whimper, your body instinctively arching toward him, and Lando feels a surge of pride. You might not fully understand what’s happening, but your body is responding to him in exactly the way he wants.

“That’s it,” he breathes, his hand moving to your cheek, brushing his thumb over your lips. “You’re mine, remember? All mine.”

Your eyes flutter closed again, a soft sigh escaping your lips as Lando finally pushes all the way in, feeling the last bit of resistance give way. He’s inside you now, fully, completely, and the satisfaction that rushes through him is almost overwhelming.

For a moment, he stays still, just savoring the feel of you, the way your body trembles beneath him, the way your breath comes in soft, uneven gasps. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand cradling your face.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

You make a soft, breathless sound, your hands instinctively reaching for him, your fingers brushing against his chest. Lando smiles, dark and satisfied, as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, his body pressing against yours with every thrust.

Lando watches the way you shift beneath him, the way you tense and relax with every movement. You’re unraveling, slowly, in his hands, and there’s something so intensely gratifying about it that he can’t help the dark, satisfied smirk that pulls at his lips.

He moves deliberately, controlling the rhythm, controlling you. Every thrust is measured, precise, pushing you closer to the edge while keeping you right where he wants you. He can feel it — feel the way you’re struggling to hold on, feel the way your breathing becomes more erratic, the way your fingers clutch at him, desperate, uncertain.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Lando murmurs, his voice rough and commanding as he watches your face. Your eyes flutter open, wide and unfocused, your lips parting as you try to catch your breath. But you don’t answer, can’t answer — your body is too consumed by the sensations he’s drawing out of you.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you say it,” he growls softly, his hand gripping your hip as he presses deeper into you. “Tell me how close you are. Tell me how badly you want this.”

“I — Lando-” Your voice is a shaky whisper, breathless and uncertain, and Lando smirks again. You can barely speak, barely string two words together, but that’s exactly how he wants you. He wants you undone, unraveling in his hands, unable to think of anything but him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your side, his touch firm and possessive. “I know you’re close. I can feel it.”

He moves faster now, his hips grinding into yours as he keeps the rhythm steady, watching your every reaction. You’re trembling beneath him, your body responding to him in ways that make his chest swell with pride. Every soft whimper, every sharp intake of breath — it’s all because of him. And he loves it.

“You feel that?” Lando murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s me. I’m the only one who’ll ever make you feel this way.”

Your body arches beneath him, and Lando can see the way you’re fighting to hold on, the way you’re trying to keep control. But he won’t let you. He’s not done with you yet.

He slows his movements slightly, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge but not enough to push you over. You let out a frustrated whimper, your fingers digging into his arms as you try to pull him closer, but Lando just smirks, keeping you right where he wants you.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’ll come when I say you can.”

Your eyes flutter shut again, and Lando can see the tension building inside you. He watches the way your chest rises and falls, the way your lips part in desperate, breathless gasps, and he knows you’re on the verge of falling apart.

But he holds you there, just on the brink, savoring the way your body reacts to him, the way you’re completely at his mercy. It’s intoxicating, the power he holds over you.

“I can feel how badly you want it,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl as he moves his hand between your legs, teasing you with soft, deliberate touches. “But you’re going to wait. You’re going to wait for me.”

You make a soft, pleading sound, your body trembling beneath him, and Lando’s grip tightens on your hip, holding you steady as he starts to move again, his pace slow and deliberate. He watches every flicker of emotion on your face, the way your brow furrows, the way your lips part as you struggle to breathe through the overwhelming sensations.

“You can take it,” he whispers, his voice dark and commanding. “You can take everything I give you.”

You’re so close now, so impossibly close, and Lando can feel it — the way your body tightens around him, the way your breath catches in your throat as you inch closer to the edge. But he’s not letting you fall yet. Not until he’s ready.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “The only one who gets to take you apart like this.”

His words send a shiver through you, and Lando can feel the way your body responds to him, the way you arch into his touch, desperate for release. He’s holding you on the edge, keeping you there, and the power rushes through him like a drug.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, breathless and pleading. “Lando, please-”

He smirks, dark and satisfied. That’s what he wanted. He wanted you begging for it, wanting it as badly as he does.

“You want to come?” He growls softly, his grip tightening on your hip as he moves faster, his thrusts deeper, harder. “You want me to let you come?”

You nod, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you try to hold on, your body trembling beneath him.

“Say it,” Lando demands, his voice rough and commanding. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I-I want it,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you clutch at him, your fingers digging into his arms. “Please, Lando — please let me come.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride as he watches you unravel beneath him. “Come for me. Let me see you fall apart.”

And with that, he pushes you over the edge.

Your body tenses, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure crashes over you in waves. Lando watches every second, his grip firm on your hips as you arch beneath him, your breath coming in soft, broken gasps. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow his movements as he guides you through it, his breath coming in slow, deliberate waves as he watches you fall apart in his hands.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he keeps moving, keeps pushing you. “You’re doing so well. Just let it happen.”

You make a soft, broken sound, your body trembling beneath him as the pleasure washes over you, and Lando feels a rush of satisfaction. You’re his. Completely, utterly his.

But he’s not done.

As you come down from the high, your body slowly relaxing, Lando’s grip tightens on your hips again. He’s close now — so close he can feel it building inside him, the tension coiling in his muscles as he moves faster, harder, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.

“Look at me,” he growls, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing your gaze up to meet his. “I want to see your face when I take you.”

Your eyes flutter open, wide and unfocused, and Lando groans at the sight of you — flushed, trembling, completely undone. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“I’m going to come inside you,” he murmurs, his voice rough as he moves faster, his body tensing as the pleasure builds. “You’re going to take all of me. Do you understand?”

You nod, your breath shaky, your fingers clutching at his arms as you try to keep up with him.

“Good girl,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine. All mine.”

With one final, deep thrust, Lando feels the tension snap, the pleasure crashing over him as he finally lets go. He groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he comes inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it.

For a moment, he stays still, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts as he comes down from the high. He watches you, your body still trembling beneath him, your breath coming in soft, uneven gasps.

And then, slowly, carefully, he pulls back, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“You were meant to be mine,” he whispers again, his voice soft but firm. “And I’m never letting you go.”

You don’t respond, your body completely spent, but Lando knows you understand. You belong to him now, in every way that matters.

***

Lando lies beside you, his chest pressed against your back, a comforting warmth in the quiet aftermath. The soft sheets cling to both of you, and he can feel your heartbeat gradually slowing, returning to a steady rhythm as you begin to relax in his arms. His fingers lightly trace the curve of your lips, a subtle smirk playing at his own.

There's something so innocent about the way you look right now — your eyelashes fluttering gently as if you’re dreaming, the soft rise and fall of your chest. He wants to savor it, the moment of peace after everything, but he’s far from done.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from the lingering remnants of passion. You blink slowly, your gaze focusing on him, a small smile tugging at your lips. The look you give him is so tender, so trusting, it makes his chest tighten in a way he’s not used to. Vulnerability looks good on you, he thinks.

“You’re still awake,” Lando continues, his fingers brushing over your lips before moving to caress your jaw. He shifts his body closer to yours, resting his head on his hand as he looks down at you. “What were you thinking about?”

You blink again, your lips parting to speak, but before you can answer, he tilts his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What are you studying at university, again?”

There’s a brief pause, and he watches as you seem to collect your thoughts. “Business economics,” you say softly, almost shyly. “I’m in my second year.”

He raises an eyebrow, his hand still trailing lazily across your skin. “Business economics?” There’s a note of surprise in his voice, but more than that, there’s something else — something almost dismissive.

You nod, your eyes flicking to his, unsure of what he’s thinking. “Yeah, I mean … it’s interesting. And it’s practical. I thought-”

“Why?” Lando interrupts, his voice cutting through the air like a knife, making you pause mid-sentence. His tone is calm, controlled, but there’s an underlying tension there, something that makes you hesitate.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused, your brow furrowing slightly.

“Why are you wasting your time on that?” Lando’s fingers stop their gentle tracing and move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes locked on yours. “You don’t need a degree.”

You stare at him for a moment, the words sinking in. There’s a silence that stretches between you, and Lando can feel the subtle shift in your energy, the way your body tenses just slightly, like you’re gearing up for some sort of protest. But before you can speak, he continues.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “You don’t need to worry about school, or work, or any of that. I’ve got more than enough for the both of us.” He pauses, watching your reaction, waiting for the inevitable pushback. “Why would you bother with a degree when you have me?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes — uncertainty, maybe even hesitation. You open your mouth to say something, but the words die on your tongue. Lando’s hand moves to rest on your thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin, a silent reminder of the control he holds.

“I … I don’t know, I just …”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Lando interrupts, his voice smooth, reassuring, yet unyielding. “I’ve got everything handled. I’ll take care of you. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow hard, trying to process his words, trying to reconcile the offer of security with the dream you’ve been working toward. “But I like studying …”

Lando’s hand moves down your thigh, his grip tightening slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make a point. “Do you?” He murmurs, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Or are you just doing it because you think you need to?”

You blink, caught off guard by the question, and he takes advantage of the moment. His hand slips further down, his fingers brushing between your legs, a slow, deliberate movement that leaves no room for argument.

“Lando-”

“Hush,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a faint smile as he leans down, his mouth hovering just over yours. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. You don’t need that degree. You’ve got me now.”

His fingers move with practiced ease, and you gasp, your body betraying you as you react to his touch. Any coherent thought slips away as he works you over, your head falling back against the pillow, your body arching into him.

“You’re going to quit,” Lando says, his voice calm but firm, a quiet command that brooks no argument. “You’re not going back to school.”

You shake your head, or maybe you don’t — it’s hard to tell anymore, everything feels hazy, your mind clouded by the sensations coursing through you. But Lando doesn’t care. He’s already decided.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers press harder, drawing another breathless moan from your lips. “You’re going to quit.”

“I … I don’t …” Your voice is weak, shaky, barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

Lando’s grip tightens, and he moves his body over yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you, reminding you of who’s in control.

“Say it,” he repeats, his tone sharper now, more insistent. “You’re going to quit.”

Your breath hitches, your body trembling beneath him as you struggle to form a coherent response. But he doesn’t let up. His touch is relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, until you can’t think of anything but the way he’s making you feel.

“Lando … please …”

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice a low growl. “Tell me you’re quitting. Tell me you don’t need that degree.”

Your body arches beneath him, your mind a blur of confusion and pleasure, and finally, finally, the words tumble from your lips, broken and breathless.

“I … I’ll quit. I’ll quit.”

Lando smirks, satisfied, as he watches you unravel beneath him, your body trembling with the force of your release. He doesn’t stop, not yet, not until he’s sure you’re completely spent, until there’s nothing left of you but the quiet, trembling aftermath.

When it’s over, he pulls back slightly, his hand moving to cup your jaw as he looks down at you, his eyes dark and possessive. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You don’t respond, too exhausted, too overwhelmed to speak, and Lando chuckles softly, his hand slipping from your jaw to rest on your chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of your breath.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says quietly, his voice low and soothing now, as if he’s trying to comfort you. “You don’t need to worry about anything anymore. I’ve got you.”

There’s a part of you that still wants to argue, still wants to push back against his words, but it’s a small, quiet part, drowned out by the overwhelming sense of relief and security that Lando offers.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

Maybe you don’t need that degree. Maybe you don’t need to worry about your future, because Lando is your future now.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady, reassuring presence of him beside you.

“I’ll take care of you,” Lando whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “Always.”

And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you, it’s easy to believe him.

***

Lando’s fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel of his McLaren as he pulls into the parking lot of your university. It’s a cloudy morning, the kind of gray that matches his mood.

He doesn’t want to be here — certainly doesn’t want to waste time with the formalities of this. But he knows it has to be done. He glances at you from the corner of his eye as the car comes to a smooth stop, his grip tightening for a moment.

You’ve been quiet since you left the penthouse, a subtle tension hanging in the air between the two of you. Lando notices the way your hands fidget in your lap, the way your gaze flicks nervously towards the university buildings. He doesn’t like it. You’ve already agreed to this; you’d already said you’d quit. This is just tying up loose ends, nothing more.

He shuts off the engine and leans back, turning his full attention to you. “You ready?”

You hesitate, and he doesn’t miss it. A small nod, your lips pressed together in uncertainty. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good,” Lando says firmly, not giving any room for further discussion. He unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car, coming around to open your door for you. His hand slides possessively to the small of your back as he guides you toward the administration building. “Let’s get this over with.”

The university halls feel cold, sterile, as the two of you walk through them. It’s early, and the place hasn’t fully come alive yet. But the walls are lined with student posters, the smell of textbooks, and the quiet hum of academia that fills the space feels completely foreign to Lando. This world doesn’t fit you, he thinks. Not anymore. You belong with him.

The Dean’s office is tucked away in the corner of the building, and when you reach it, Lando notices how your steps slow slightly. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re sure about this, yes?”

You glance up at him, uncertainty flickering in your eyes for the briefest second. But then you nod. “I … yes. I’m sure.”

Lando smirks, satisfied. You’re just nervous, that’s all. He’s not worried. Not really.

The secretary outside the office lets you both in with a nod, and the Dean, a man in his early fifties with glasses perched on his nose, looks up from behind a stack of papers. He smiles at you as you enter, but his expression quickly shifts when he notices Lando standing beside you, his arm firmly around your waist.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the Dean says, his voice carrying a note of pleasant surprise. “What brings you here today?”

You shift awkwardly, glancing at Lando for a moment before speaking. “I … I’ve decided to withdraw from my program.”

The Dean’s brow furrows in confusion. He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on his desk. “Withdraw? Are you sure? You’re one of our most promising students. Your work in economics has been exemplary.”

Lando feels the slight tremor in your body, senses the moment of hesitation as you start to open your mouth, your gaze flicking back to the Dean. The man’s words clearly have an effect on you, and Lando doesn’t like it. His jaw clenches.

“I … I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” you start, your voice quiet. “I’m just not sure if this is the right path for me anymore.”

“Nonsense,” the Dean says, shaking his head. “You’ve made such incredible progress. You have a natural talent, and it would be a waste to throw it all away. You’re capable of so much more than just-”

“She’s not wasting anything,” Lando cuts in, his voice sharp and cold. He glares at the Dean, daring him to continue. The room falls silent for a moment, the tension palpable. “She’s made her decision.”

The Dean’s eyes flicker between the two of you, clearly noting the way Lando’s grip tightens around your waist, the way his presence dominates the space. He frowns, clearly displeased but unwilling to press further. “Miss Y/L/N,” he says carefully, “are you certain this is what you want?”

You hesitate, biting your lip, and Lando feels his frustration bubble up. He leans down, his lips close to your ear, his voice a quiet command. “Tell him you’ve already decided.”

You swallow hard, your body stiffening slightly before you nod again. “I’ve already decided.”

The Dean sighs, clearly reluctant, but he reaches for the necessary paperwork nonetheless. “If you’re sure,” he mutters, sliding the forms across the desk toward you. “You’ll need to sign here, and I’ll need a statement of withdrawal.”

As you reach for the pen, Lando keeps his arm firmly around your waist, watching carefully. He can still feel your unease, the way your hand trembles slightly as you begin to sign your name. But he knows this is the right decision. You don’t need this place. You need him.

The Dean watches silently, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly displeased. “It’s a shame,” he says after a moment, his eyes lingering on you. “You had such a bright future ahead of you. I hope you’re not making a mistake.”

Lando’s jaw tightens. He can see the way your fingers falter over the paper, the way the Dean’s words make you second-guess yourself. Before you can say anything, Lando steps in again, his voice cutting through the tension.

“She’s not,” Lando says firmly, his eyes locked on the Dean with a warning edge. “She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.”

The Dean doesn’t reply, only nods curtly as he gathers the signed forms. Lando watches as you hand them back, your face a mix of emotions — confusion, doubt, and something else he can’t quite place.

As soon as the paperwork is done, Lando wastes no time. He pulls you close to him, practically ushering you out of the office. You cast one last glance at the Dean, but Lando’s hand tightens on your waist, his fingers pressing into your side in a way that leaves no room for lingering thoughts.

Once you’re out in the hallway, Lando’s tone softens slightly, though the control in his voice remains. “It’s done. No turning back now.”

You nod, but he can tell your thoughts are still drifting, still caught up in what the Dean said. That won’t do. Lando knows he needs to distract you, shift your focus back where it belongs — on him.

“There’s an Hermès store nearby,” Lando says casually as the two of you walk toward the parking lot. His tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s an underlying purpose behind his words. “I’ve been thinking … you’d look adorable with one of their twilly scarves tied in your hair. Maybe even a matching Birkin.” He glances down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What do you think?”

You blink, momentarily thrown by the abrupt change in topic. “I … I don’t know.”

Lando’s grip on your waist loosens slightly as he moves his hand up to brush your hair back from your face. “Trust me. You’d love it. And I’d love seeing you with a cute little bow tied in your hair. It would suit you.”

You can’t help but smile, though it’s small and unsure. The shift in conversation, the mention of luxury, seems to distract you enough, pulling your thoughts away from the earlier doubt. That’s exactly what Lando wants. He needs you focused on him, not on whatever misplaced ambitions the Dean tried to stir up.

“I’ll take you shopping,” Lando continues smoothly as he opens the passenger door of his car for you. “We’ll find something perfect. After all, you deserve it.”

He watches as you slide into the seat, your expression still tinged with uncertainty but softened by the promise of something new, something exciting. Lando can feel the satisfaction curling inside him. He’s got you exactly where he wants you.

As he rounds the car and slides into the driver’s seat, he shoots you a quick glance, his hand already moving to rest on your thigh, a silent reminder of his control. “You won’t regret any of this,” he says quietly, his voice filled with certainty. “You’re mine now. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

You don’t respond, but the way you lean into his touch tells him all he needs to know. He starts the engine, the roar of the McLaren filling the air as he pulls out of the university parking lot.

***

Each day seems to fall into a rhythm. Lando likes control, and now he’s exerting it over your life, molding it to fit his own. You’re no longer rushing to university or working long hours at his company. Instead, you’re left to fill your days with something else, though Lando never lets it be anything without him at the center of it.

It didn’t take long for you to find a new routine. It started the first day after you withdrew from school. You spent the morning pacing around Lando’s penthouse, the sprawling space eerily quiet without him there. His presence filled the place even when he wasn’t around, but it still felt empty without him.

By noon, you found yourself in the kitchen, your hands moving on instinct, putting together a lunch that reminded you of simpler times. You thought about surprising him at work, the idea sparking a tiny thrill in you. Maybe he’d like the surprise.

You had no idea how much he would love it.

Now, you’re in his office every day without fail. Each morning is spent in careful preparation — choosing the perfect outfit, something that Lando would appreciate. You know how much he loves your bows, so you always make sure to tie one into your hair. Your dresses are carefully selected from the expansive closet he’s stocked for you, all designer, all perfectly tailored to accentuate your innocence, your softness. It’s what he likes. It’s what keeps him satisfied.

Today is no different. You step off the elevator into his building, a picnic basket swinging delicately in your hand. The security guard already knows you by name, offering a polite nod as you pass by, though you can’t miss the curious glance he throws at the basket.

When you reach Lando’s office, his assistant greets you with a knowing smile. “He’s in a meeting,” she tells you, her voice pleasant. “But you can go in. He always makes time for you.”

You smile back, nodding your thanks, and push open the door to his private office. The space is immaculate, modern, with sleek lines and floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city. It screams power, control, everything that Lando is.

He’s seated at his desk, deep in conversation with a group of executives who are standing across from him, discussing something about market shares. But the moment you step inside, his eyes flick up to meet yours, and everything else in the room seems to fall away.

“Gentlemen,” Lando interrupts smoothly, not bothering to hide the way his gaze lingers on you. “That’ll be all for now.”

There’s a moment of hesitation from the executives, confusion flashing across their faces at the abrupt end to the meeting. But Lando’s tone leaves no room for debate. They gather their papers, nodding respectfully as they file out, each of them casting curious glances your way as they leave.

Once the door clicks shut, Lando leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. The picnic basket, the way your dress hugs your figure, the bow in your hair — it’s all exactly as he likes it.

“Come here,” he orders, his voice low but commanding. You don’t hesitate, crossing the room toward him, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

Lando doesn’t say anything as you set the basket down on the edge of his desk, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze as he watches every move you make. He doesn’t even look at the food; his focus is entirely on you.

He reaches out, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer until you’re standing between his legs, his chair swiveling slightly as he turns toward you. His other hand moves to the hem of your dress, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric.

“You always know just how to dress for me, don’t you?” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a possessive undertone that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I thought you might be hungry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s smirk widens, his hand sliding higher up your thigh, under the skirt of your dress. “Oh, I am,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing the lace of your underwear. “But I’m not interested in whatever you’ve brought in that basket.”

You bite your lip, your heart racing as his touch becomes more insistent. This is the routine now, the unspoken agreement. You bring him lunch, and he makes sure to have his appetizer first. His hands are all over you before you’ve even had a chance to set the table.

His thumb presses against the lace, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him. “Lando …”

He chuckles, pulling you down onto his lap, positioning you so that you’re straddling him, your dress riding up as his hands find your hips. “You know what I want,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear. “And you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you?”

You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his hands roam over your body, tugging at the fabric of your dress, pulling it up higher. His fingers find the bow tied around your waist, and he tugs at it, loosening it until the dress falls open slightly.

“You look so innocent,” Lando whispers, his voice dark with desire. “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders as his lips find your neck, kissing and biting softly.

Lando growls softly in satisfaction, his hands moving with practiced ease as he takes what he wants, as he always does. You’re used to this by now, the way he demands control, the way he always takes his fill of you before anything else. And part of you craves it — craves the way he makes you feel, like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

After he’s had his way with you, his hands still lingering possessively on your hips, Lando finally leans back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Now,” he says, his voice still husky, “what did you bring me for lunch?”

You’re still breathless, your body trembling slightly as you try to regain your composure. You reach for the picnic basket, opening it to reveal the meal you’d spent the morning preparing — a simple but elegant spread of sandwiches, fruit, and pastries.

Lando watches you, his smirk never fading as you set everything up on his desk. “You spoil me,” he murmurs, reaching for one of the sandwiches.

You smile, trying to steady your breathing as you watch him take a bite, his eyes still fixed on you. “I just thought you might like something different,” you say softly.

He chuckles, swallowing his food before leaning back in his chair, his gaze predatory. “Oh, I do. I like it very much.”

As he eats, you sit across from him, watching as he devours the food you’ve made. There’s something intimate about it, the way he looks at you, the way his hand casually rests on your thigh as if he can’t go a moment without touching you.

When he’s finished, Lando leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “I want you to keep doing this,” he says after a moment. “Bringing me lunch every day.”

You blink, surprised. “Every day?”

He nods, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I like having you here. I like knowing you’re close.” His gaze darkens slightly. “And I like having you as an appetizer before the main meal.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, and Lando’s smirk widens. He leans forward, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, remember? And I always get what I want.”

You nod, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “Yes, Lando.”

His smirk softens into something more tender, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Good girl.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. You stay with him, lingering in his office as he works, your presence a constant distraction for him. Every now and then, he glances up from his papers to watch you, his eyes filled with a dark, possessive hunger that never seems to fade.

And when the workday finally ends, Lando takes you back to the penthouse, where the cycle begins again.

***

Lando is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his body pressed close to yours, his hand idly tracing circles on your bare skin. The mid-morning sunlight filters through the curtains of his penthouse bedroom, casting a soft glow over the room. It's quiet, peaceful, the kind of quiet that only comes with mornings like this — when the world outside is busy, but inside, it's just the two of you.

His lips are on your neck, warm and gentle, brushing against your skin with lazy affection. You can feel the way his breath hitches slightly, how his hand drifts lower, over the curve of your waist, until it comes to rest on your stomach. His fingers spread out across your skin, his touch firm yet tender.

“Baby,” Lando murmurs, his voice deep and hushed, as if he’s talking to himself as much as to you. He lets the word linger in the air, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. “You’d look so pretty with a baby.”

The words catch you off guard. You feel your heart skip a beat, a rush of warmth spreading through you, but there’s also confusion, a flicker of uncertainty. “Lando,” you breathe, turning your head slightly to look at him.

He doesn’t stop. His hand stays on your stomach, gently pressing against the flatness there, as if imagining it full, imagining you carrying his child. His lips find your jawline, kissing softly, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “You’d look perfect. So beautiful.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. The tenderness in his voice is at odds with the intensity of his words. “A baby?” You ask quietly, unsure of what to say.

Lando’s eyes flick up to meet yours, his expression serious, though there’s a softness in his gaze. “Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “My baby with my baby.”

There’s a pause, the weight of his words hanging between you, and you feel a tightening in your chest. You’ve never really talked about this — about the future, about where this relationship is headed. You’ve been so caught up in the present, in the way Lando makes you feel, in the way he consumes every part of your life, that you haven’t allowed yourself to think too far ahead.

But now, he’s thinking for both of you. His mind is already made up.

“Lando, I-” You start to speak, but he cuts you off with a gentle kiss, his lips capturing yours in a way that steals your breath, that makes it impossible to think straight.

He pulls back, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Don’t think too much about it,” he whispers, his tone coaxing, soothing. “Just imagine it. You, with a little bump, carrying our baby. Doesn’t that sound good?”

You swallow hard, your mind racing. It’s overwhelming, the way he’s speaking, like he’s already decided this for you. His hand is still on your stomach, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, and it’s as if he’s trying to imprint the idea onto you — his baby, your body, his future.

“Lando, that’s … that’s a big decision,” you manage to say, though your voice is soft, tentative.

He smiles at you, that confident, easy smile that always makes your heart flutter. “I know,” he says, his voice calm, unhurried. “But it’s the right one. I want this. I want you to have my baby. I want you to be mine completely.”

His words send a shiver through you, both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. He’s never been shy about claiming you, about making it clear that you belong to him in every way. But this feels different. This feels permanent.

“I …” You try again, but once more, Lando silences you, his mouth moving against yours, his kiss more insistent this time, more possessive.

His hand slips down, over your thigh, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing against yours. He’s making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything other than the feel of him, the way he takes control with such ease.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He murmurs against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark and intense.

You nod without thinking, your heart racing. Of course you trust him. He’s always been there, always known exactly what to do, what you need. But this … this is different.

“I do,” you whisper, your voice shaky, unsure of where this is going.

Lando’s smile softens, his hand sliding back to your stomach, pressing there again, more firmly this time. “Then trust me with this, baby. You’d be perfect. You know that, right? You were made for this — for me.”

The possessiveness in his voice is unmistakable, and it sends a jolt through you. He’s always been dominant, always in control, but this feels deeper, more intense. It’s not just about the moment — it’s about the future he’s already planned out for you, the future he’s pulling you into without hesitation.

“Imagine it,” he says again, his voice dropping lower, his lips brushing against your ear. “You, carrying my child. Everyone would see it, would know you’re mine. You’d be so beautiful. So perfect.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settling over you, wrapping around you like a tight embrace. The idea is both terrifying and intoxicating, and you don’t know how to respond.

Lando doesn’t give you the chance to. His hand moves again, this time slipping lower, between your thighs, his fingers pressing against you in a way that makes your mind go blank, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, his voice soothing as his fingers tease you, his touch both gentle and firm. “I’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to think about it. Just let me take care of you, like I always do.”

You gasp softly, your body arching toward him, and Lando’s smirk widens as he watches you unravel under his touch, his hand working expertly to drive you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against your neck, his voice a low growl. “That’s my girl. So good for me.”

Your mind is spinning, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch, the way he’s controlling the entire moment. And yet, there’s a part of you that wants to give in, to let him take control, to let him decide everything, because it feels safe, it feels right.

Lando’s grip tightens slightly on your stomach, his thumb brushing over your skin in a possessive way. “You’re going to be perfect, baby. You’ll be mine completely. You already are.”

His words sink deep into you, the finality of them making your heart race. He’s not asking. He’s telling you. This is what he wants, what he’s decided for both of you. And in this moment, with his body pressed against yours, his hand between your thighs, his lips on your skin, it’s impossible to argue.

You’re his, and you always will be.

***

Lando's eyes are fixed on you, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight. The golden light hits your skin, casting you in a soft glow, but all he can focus on is the slight curve of your stomach, the undeniable proof of the life growing inside you.

His child.

You’re wearing one of those dresses he loves, the fabric soft and flowing, cinched just below your breasts to accommodate the growing bump. It’s a subtle change for now, but Lando notices it like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. The way you move, the way your hands instinctively rest on your stomach sometimes, like you’re protecting what belongs to him. He can’t take his eyes off you.

You turn slightly, catching him watching you from across the room, and your lips curve into a soft, shy smile. “What?” You ask, voice light, but there’s a hint of nervousness in your tone, like you’re not sure what he’s thinking.

Lando doesn't answer right away. Instead, he walks toward you, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving your bump. When he finally reaches you, his hand moves to rest on your stomach, the warmth of your skin radiating through the fabric of your dress. He feels it under his palm — the slight roundness, the beginning of the change, the proof of his claim on you.

“My baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive, the words more for himself than for you.

You look up at him, a flicker of emotion in your eyes. There’s still that innocence, that soft vulnerability that Lando can’t get enough of. Less than a year ago, you were untouched, unclaimed by any man, and now — now, you’re carrying his child. The thought makes something primal stir deep inside him, a fierce sense of ownership and pride.

Lando’s thumb brushes lightly over your stomach, tracing the curve as if memorizing the way your body is changing. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his voice rough around the edges. His eyes flick back to yours, intense, as he continues, “I always knew you’d look perfect with my baby growing inside you.”

A flush spreads across your cheeks, your lips parting slightly, but you don’t say anything. Lando knows this is overwhelming for you — everything about him, about this relationship, about how quickly everything has changed. But that’s exactly how he wanted it. He wasn’t going to give you time to second-guess anything. You belong to him now, and there’s no going back.

He kneels in front of you without warning, one hand still resting on your stomach while the other grips your hip, pulling you slightly closer. His breath hitches as his eyes level with the slight swell, and he presses his lips softly to your stomach, placing slow, deliberate kisses on the fabric of your dress. His baby, inside you. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

Lando looks up at you from where he’s kneeling, his eyes dark with intensity. “I still can’t believe it,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Less than a year ago, you hadn’t even been touched by a man. And now …” He trails off, his hand moving to press against the bump again. “Now, you’re full with my child.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you swallow hard, clearly unsure of how to respond. Lando’s always been intense, always so certain, so in control of everything between you. But this — this is something different. This is forever.

He stands back up, his hands sliding up your sides, holding you close as he towers over you. His thumb brushes along your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Do you even understand what this means?” He asks quietly, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re mine. Completely. No one else will ever have you like this.”

You nod, a bit shakily, and Lando smirks. He knows it’s a lot for you to take in, but that’s exactly how he wants it. He wants you overwhelmed, completely consumed by him, by the life he’s building for you both.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, and there’s a softness in his voice now, a gentleness that he only shows you in these quiet moments. “You’re doing so well. Carrying my child, making our future.”

His hand moves back to your stomach, rubbing small circles as he continues, “I always knew you’d be perfect like this. My baby with my baby.” He chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. “You’re going to be the most beautiful mother.”

You lean into him, letting out a soft sigh, and Lando feels something warm unfurl in his chest. He likes seeing you like this — soft, pliant, completely under his control. He likes knowing that every part of you belongs to him, from your mind to your body to the life growing inside of you.

“I want you to rest more,” he says suddenly, his tone taking on that commanding edge again. “No more worrying about anything. I’ll take care of everything.”

You blink up at him, a slight frown crossing your face. “I don’t worry, Lando,” you say softly, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“You do,” he insists, his hand tightening just a bit on your hip. “You don’t have to, though. That’s not your job anymore. Your only job is to take care of our baby. Got it?”

There’s a pause, and you nod again, this time more slowly, like you’re trying to process what he’s saying. Lando watches your expression carefully, knowing that you’re still adjusting to this life with him. But he also knows that he’s not giving you a choice. This is your life now — his life.

Lando leans down again, pressing another kiss to your stomach before straightening up. “I want you to rest now,” he says, his voice softening. “Come on, let’s go lie down.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you let him guide you to the bedroom, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back as you walk. When you reach the bed, he helps you lie down, pulling the covers over you with a tenderness that contrasts with the intensity of his words.

He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as you settle in, his hand resting lightly on your stomach again. “I’ll stay here for a bit,” he murmurs, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I just want to be close to you. To our baby.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t have to. Lando knows that you’re still processing everything, still adjusting to the life he’s created for you. But he’s patient. He’ll wait. Because he knows, deep down, that you’re his. Completely and utterly his. And soon, there will be no part of your life that isn’t touched by him, controlled by him.

He smiles to himself, brushing his thumb lightly over your skin as he leans down to kiss your forehead once more. “Rest now,” he whispers. “You’re doing so well.”

And as you close your eyes, Lando stays there, watching over you, his hand never leaving your stomach, his thoughts already spinning with plans for the future. You and him, and the life you’re building together. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

And it’s only just beginning.

***

The lecture hall buzzes with quiet anticipation, students shifting in their seats, eyes on the door as they wait for the keynote speaker. Lando strides through the entrance with effortless authority, his tailored suit emphasizing his power. Every step he takes commands attention, but his focus isn't on the sea of students. It's on you.

He keeps you close to his side, his arm protectively wrapped around your waist, guiding you through the lecture hall. You're heavily pregnant now, your rounded belly making it harder to move with the same ease as before. Lando notices every wince, every slight shift in your weight, and his grip tightens, steadying you.

“You alright?” He murmurs, leaning down slightly, his voice low but firm. He stops walking as you pause, his thumb brushing against your side in a rare gesture of tenderness.

You nod, offering him a small smile, but Lando isn’t convinced. He’s always watching, always reading you, making sure you’re taken care of. He doesn’t want you out of his sight, especially not now, not when you’re carrying his child — his future. It’s why he insisted you come with him to this keynote speech, even if it meant pulling you away from the quiet of home.

“I don’t want you far from me, baby,” he’d said that morning, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You stay by my side today.”

And now, as he guides you to the front row of the lecture hall, he’s making sure you’re positioned just right. The front seat, where he can keep an eye on you, where no one else can intrude. Lando gestures for you to sit, his eyes dark and serious as you lower yourself into the chair, careful of your bump. He crouches down in front of you, smoothing a hand over your knee before leaning in, his lips close to your ear.

“If you need anything,” he says, his voice quiet but commanding, “you call me. I’m right here. Don’t even think about getting up on your own.”

You nod again, feeling his intensity radiating off him, and he gives your knee one last squeeze before standing up, adjusting his suit jacket with precision. He takes the stage with ease, the shift from boyfriend to powerful CEO seamless.

Lando begins speaking, his voice steady and commanding, captivating the room effortlessly. The students sit up straighter, hanging on every word, as he talks about leadership, success, and the ruthlessness it takes to survive in the world of business. But every now and then, his eyes flicker to you, checking, ensuring you’re still there, still safe.

You sit quietly, watching him, one hand resting on your bump, and the baby kicks softly against your palm. The speech is engaging, and you’re proud of him, but there’s a slight discomfort creeping in — the weight of your pregnancy, the strange sensation of being back here, in your old university, surrounded by classmates who wouldn’t recognize the person you are now.

After Lando finishes his speech, the applause echoes through the hall, loud and appreciative, but it barely reaches you. You’re too caught up in your thoughts, in the reality of how much has changed. Less than a year ago, you were sitting in one of these very seats, studying, dreaming about a future you thought would be on your own terms. Now, here you are, with Lando's baby growing inside you, a future that looks nothing like what you imagined.

As the students begin filing out, Lando steps down from the stage, immediately walking over to you. His hand is on your shoulder before you can say anything, and his presence instantly makes you feel safe, grounded.

“Let’s get you home, baby,” he says softly, his tone gentle but firm. “I don’t want you out for too long. You need to rest.”

But just as you start to stand, you overhear a conversation behind you, voices you vaguely recognize — former classmates, their tones incredulous, like they can’t believe what they’re seeing.

“Is that Y/N?” One of them asks, the disbelief clear in her voice.

“Yeah, but … wow. She’s changed so much,” another replies. “I mean, look at her. She’s pregnant — and with Lando Norris? How did that even happen?”

You freeze for a moment, uncertainty creeping in as their words sink in. Of course, you knew people would notice, would talk, but hearing it said out loud — how different you are now — makes your heart race a little. They don’t know the half of it. They don’t know how your life shifted so drastically, how Lando swept you into his world and never let go.

Lando’s eyes harden as he catches the exchange. He glares at the group of students, his expression darkening. The possessiveness that always simmers under the surface rises to the forefront. He tightens his arm around your waist as if to make a statement — one that’s loud and clear.

Without breaking his gaze from the group, he speaks, voice low and controlled. “We should stop by Burberry after this,” he says, leaning close to you, his hand pressing against your back, anchoring you to him. “I’ve been thinking we need more clothes for the baby. Maybe some cute outfits with little matching accessories. What do you think, baby?”

His words are meant to distract you, to pull you away from any lingering doubts those comments might have sparked. You look up at him, meeting his intense gaze, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you should feel reassured or overwhelmed by how much control Lando always has over every situation.

The students fall silent, quickly averting their gaze as Lando’s attention stays fixed on you. There’s no mistaking his message — Lando is in control. Of you. Of your life. Of everything. And no one else’s opinion matters.

You swallow hard, nodding softly as you lean into him. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” you murmur, your voice quiet, unsure.

Lando's eyes soften slightly as he looks down at you, clearly pleased with your response. He cups your cheek briefly before turning to lead you out of the hall, his arm still firmly around your waist.

As you walk together through the corridors of your old university, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions — nostalgia, confusion, but also a deep, almost unsettling sense of belonging. It’s as if you no longer fit into the life you once had here, and the only place you truly belong is at Lando’s side, under his protection, within his world.

Once outside, Lando stops, glancing down at you as you lean against him. “You alright, baby?” He asks, his voice softer now, more intimate.

You nod, though the tightness in your chest lingers. “Yeah,” you whisper, but your mind drifts back to the students, to their words. How much you’ve changed.

Lando studies you for a moment before brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You don’t need to worry about what anyone thinks,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “Your life is here, with me. That’s all that matters.”

He kisses your forehead, the gesture unexpectedly tender, and pulls you closer. “Let’s go to Burberry. We’ll pick out something nice for our baby.” His hand moves down to brush lightly over your bump, possessive and affectionate all at once. “And maybe something for you too.”

You lean into him as he guides you toward his car, trying to shake the strange unease that’s settled in your chest. It’s true — you’ve changed so much in such a short time. But with Lando by your side, there’s no room for second-guessing.

Your life, your future, your identity — it’s all wrapped up in him now. And there’s no turning back.

***

Lando sits behind his massive desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office casting a warm glow across the room. He glances at his watch, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. It’s almost time. Every day around this hour, like clockwork, you arrive at his office with a homemade lunch, dressed in one of your designer dresses and kitten heels, looking as perfect as ever. But lately, there’s an extra reason for his anticipation. A tiny reason.

He hears the familiar knock on the door before it creaks open. His heart, normally steady and guarded, stirs a little, as it always does when you walk into the room. And there you are, with that ever-present bow in your hair, a smaller version of it perched atop your baby daughter’s head as you hold her close.

“There are my girls,” Lando says, his voice low, but with a warmth reserved only for you and your daughter. He stands from his desk, smoothing out his suit as he crosses the room in long, confident strides.

Your daughter, barely a year old, gurgles happily as Lando approaches. He reaches out and takes her from your arms with ease, holding her in one arm while his other hand reaches out to rest possessively on your lower back. His thumb brushes against the silk of your dress, the simple touch staking his claim over you, over everything you are.

“Daddy’s been waiting,” he says softly, his gaze flicking down to the baby in his arms before he turns his attention back to you. “And what did my girls bring me today?”

You smile up at him, a little breathless, always affected by the sheer presence of him. “Your favorite,” you say, lifting the picnic basket a bit. “And something new I wanted to try.”

Lando’s dark eyes sparkle with something unreadable, though you’re sure it’s a mix of amusement and affection. He loves these moments. These tiny, perfect slices of domesticity. He’d once filled his life with the best of everything — lavish lunches from Michelin-starred restaurants, anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. But none of it compares to this. To you, his beautiful wife-to-be, and the child you both created together.

Without a word, Lando steps away from you just long enough to sit down on the edge of his massive desk, setting your daughter on his lap. She immediately grabs for the bow on his tie, her tiny fingers tugging at it while she babbles incoherently. Lando laughs — a sound so rare that even you pause to savor it.

“She’s got good taste,” he comments, adjusting her tiny hand so she doesn’t pull the knot loose. His eyes meet yours again, and you know that he’s shifting the focus back to you. He always does. “You two make quite the pair, you know that?”

You blush a little, smoothing the front of your dress as you walk over, the baby’s gaze following you. “I think she takes after her daddy,” you tease softly, though there’s truth in your words. Your daughter’s eyes are the same shade of bright green as Lando’s, her expressions sometimes eerily similar to his — calm, calculating, but always with a spark of something mischievous beneath the surface.

Lando’s expression softens, though the control, the dominance that defines him, never wavers. He slides off the desk and takes your hand, pulling you toward him until you’re standing between his legs, his chest close enough to brush against yours.

“Do you know how perfect this is?” He asks quietly, the words intimate, meant just for you. His hand, the one not balancing the baby, comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. “You. Her. This …everything.”

You tilt your head slightly, leaning into his touch, feeling the familiar tug of his pull on your entire being. There’s something in the way he looks at you, something that both grounds you and makes you feel like you’re floating.

“I couldn’t ask for more,” you whisper, meaning every word.

Lando’s eyes narrow slightly, that smirk you know all too well tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, but I can. And I will.”

You blink, confused for a moment, but then you see the glint of metal as his hand slips into his pocket. He pulls out a small, black velvet box and opens it in one smooth motion. The ring inside is enormous, the diamond catching the sunlight streaming in from the windows and casting shimmering reflections across the room.

Lando doesn’t ask. He doesn’t get down on one knee. That’s not his style. There’s no question in his mind, and there won’t be in yours, either.

“We’re getting married,” he says, his tone leaving no room for discussion, no space for hesitation. His eyes are locked on yours, the weight of his words sinking in slowly, like gravity pulling you deeper into his orbit. He’s not making a suggestion. He’s making a decision. For both of you. Just like everything else in your life together.

Your breath catches as he takes your left hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. It’s heavy, almost too heavy, but then again, isn’t everything with Lando like that? His presence, his control, his love. All of it weighs on you in ways that sometimes feel overwhelming, but at the same time, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Lando, I …” Your words falter as you stare down at the ring, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Excitement, disbelief, love. “I wasn’t expecting …”

“You don’t have to expect anything,” Lando interrupts smoothly, his hand still wrapped around yours, anchoring you to him. “I make the decisions for us. And I’ve decided it’s time. I want you as my wife.”

Your heart races at the finality in his voice, at the way he always seems to know exactly what you need before you even realize it yourself.

You look up at him, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something — vulnerability, maybe — in your expression. But Lando catches it, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you close until your foreheads are almost touching.

“Trust me,” he murmurs, his voice low, intimate. “This is right. We’re right.”

You nod, the words catching in your throat as emotion wells up inside you. “Yes,” you finally whisper, your voice shaky but certain.

Lando’s smirk deepens as he presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, a soft, possessive brush of his mouth against yours.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, the praise making your heart flutter.

Your daughter gurgles in Lando’s lap, her tiny fingers still clutching his tie, and he chuckles softly, pulling back just enough to glance down at her.

“See that, little one?” He says, his voice shifting into something softer, more playful as he speaks to your daughter. “Mummy’s going to be Mrs. Norris soon. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and filled with happiness, as you reach out to stroke your daughter’s cheek. She coos at you both, completely oblivious to the monumental moment that just unfolded.

Lando shifts his grip on her, settling her more comfortably in his arms before his eyes meet yours again. There’s a heat in his gaze now, something deeper, more possessive. “We’ll have a celebration soon,” he says, his tone firm. “But today, I want you all to myself. No distractions. Just us.”

Your pulse quickens at the implication behind his words, and you feel a familiar warmth spread through you as you lean into him, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt.

Lando tilts your chin up, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, the world outside disappears. It’s just you, Lando, and your daughter — the family you never imagined, but the one you wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Let’s have lunch,” you finally say, breaking the silence with a soft smile. “I made all your favorites.”

Lando’s eyes darken with something unspoken, but he nods, the smirk still playing at the corner of his lips. “After,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Right now, I want to spend time with my girls.”

And with that, he pulls you even closer, the weight of his presence wrapping around you like the most precious gift of all.

***

Lando lies in bed with you curled up against his side, his arm draped possessively around your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. The room is dark and quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside the penthouse windows and the occasional faint sound from the baby monitor on the nightstand, signaling your daughter’s peaceful sleep in the nursery next door. It’s a rare moment of calm, one of the few times when Lando’s dominant presence seems softer, more intimate.

But even in moments like these, where his touch is gentle and his voice low, that control is never far beneath the surface. It’s in the way his arm tightens slightly around you, holding you close as if he can’t bear to let you go, not even for a moment. It’s in the way his eyes, though closed, seem always watchful, always aware of you, of every movement you make.

You let out a soft sigh, your body fully relaxed against his. It’s been a long day, but a good one, filled with moments that have become your new normal — bringing Lando lunch at the office, watching him melt when he sees you and your daughter, his two girls, as he always calls you. The rhythm of your life has shifted since you became a family, but Lando remains the constant anchor, the force that drives everything forward.

As you settle deeper into the warmth of his embrace, Lando’s hand moves from your waist to rest gently on your stomach, his palm warm against your skin. The gesture seems innocent at first, a continuation of the tender touches you’ve shared all evening, but then his hand lingers, his fingers spreading out slightly as if to claim more of you.

His voice breaks the silence, soft but unmistakably deliberate. “You know,” he begins, his tone casual, yet carrying that undercurrent of intent that always makes your heart race, “I’ve been thinking.”

You open your eyes, tilting your head slightly to glance up at him. “Thinking about what?”

Lando’s eyes are still closed, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the kind that tells you he’s about to say something that will change everything. “About us,” he says, his hand pressing a little more firmly against your stomach. “And about how perfect you looked carrying our little girl.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, a flush rising to your cheeks as the meaning behind them begins to sink in. “Lando …” you start, but your voice falters, unsure of what to say.

He opens his eyes then, looking down at you with that piercing gaze that always makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him. “You’ve been perfect, baby,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate register. “More than I ever imagined. But now …” His thumb strokes your skin, just beneath the swell of your stomach, and his eyes darken with that familiar possessiveness. “It’s time for the next one.”

You blink up at him, your mind racing to catch up with his words. “The next one?”

Lando nods, his expression entirely serious, but with a hint of excitement beneath the surface, as if he’s been thinking about this for longer than he’s letting on. “It’s time we started working on our next baby,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I want to see you pregnant again. And this time …” His hand tightens just slightly on your stomach, his voice taking on a more commanding edge. “I want you to be pregnant when we get married. Walking down the aisle with my ring on your finger and a little bump under your dress. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

Your heart skips a beat at the image he paints, the idea of walking down the aisle, your hand in his, your body already showing signs of the new life you’d created together. It’s overwhelming and thrilling all at once, the way everything with Lando always is.

“Lando,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to process what he’s saying. “We just had our daughter …”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and filled with that familiar confidence that always sets you on edge. “And she’s perfect,” he agrees, his fingers trailing up to brush the side of your face. “But why stop there? We’re just getting started, baby. I want a family. A big one. And I want you to be the one who gives it to me.”

His words settle over you like a blanket, heavy and warm, filled with expectation. There’s no question in his tone, no room for hesitation. Lando has already decided, just as he always does. And as much as the thought takes your breath away, there’s a part of you that already knows you’ll give him what he wants. You always do.

You bite your lip, your mind racing as you try to form a coherent response. “But … what if I’m not ready?”

Lando’s eyes darken at your hesitation, his hand moving from your stomach to tilt your chin up so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You are ready,” he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “I know you are.” He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You were made for this, baby. For me. For our family. And you’ll give me what I want, won’t you?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body already responding to the commanding tone of his voice, the way his words wrap around you like a vice, pulling you deeper into his world, his desires. You nod slowly, unable to do anything else. “Yes, Lando,” you whisper, your voice trembling with both anticipation and submission. “I’ll give you what you want.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he pulls back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, a reward for your obedience.

He doesn’t waste any more time. His hand moves lower, slipping beneath the sheets, his touch firm and deliberate as he begins to remind you exactly who you belong to. Your breath hitches, your body arching toward him instinctively, already pliant under his control.

“You’re going to look so beautiful, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his hand moves with expert precision. “Walking down the aisle with my child growing inside you. Everyone will see. Everyone will know.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of desire and awe flooding through you. He’s not just talking about a wedding. He’s talking about a future, one that’s already been mapped out in his mind, one that you’re destined to follow. And as overwhelming as it is, there’s something undeniably thrilling about being part of his plan, of knowing that you’re the center of his world, the one who will give him everything he wants.

Lando’s movements become more insistent, his lips trailing down your neck as he presses you further into the mattress, his body radiating heat and control. You can feel the weight of his expectations, the force of his desire, and it’s enough to make your head spin.

“Lando,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body trembles beneath him.

“Shh, baby,” he soothes, his voice dark and commanding as his hand continues its relentless pace. “Just let go. Let me take care of you.”

And you do. You always do.

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reshinless · 3 months ago

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──── point one, caught off guard.

ᯓ★ ── . summary. when you get pulled in this whole situation, maybe it's for the best, don't you think captain?

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ director's note.. hello disciples >< will be answering asks soon, just feels like im spamming the HELL outta kinich works so LOL

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ pairings. capitano x fem!reader

ᯓ★ ── . warnings. nsfw, lowkey hate fucking, cunnilingus, fem terms used, fem nicknames used, reader is a well-known traveler (plus is strong!), SPOILER FOR NATLAN ARCHON QUEST !!! reader strong but capitano stronger:^, reader takes commissions, low-key vision play (I'LL EXPLAIN!!), mirror sex, pwp, slight dacryphilia (shown for a literal splice of the fic)

wc: 2k ★ rated 18+

you never expected to land yourself into a situation like this . . you were a reputable hero, with a reputation that spoke for itself!

you originally hated the fatui, you planned to never ever give any of 'em mercy when you came across them. the rumors of their deeds- all of them unforgivable. the many innocents witnessed dead at the scene. stolen goods. everything you could think of.

" damn harbingers! are they trying to target us specifically?! " one of your past commissioners exclaimed. " it's as if all are damn supply is all gone! " he screams, banging a beer bottle onto the table.

you swiftly dodge the sudden shard of glass coming your way. sighing softly- " maybe . . I can try and find them myself. " a tilt from your head is apparent, he glosses his eyes over you and laughs.

" you think you could take them, really? " his hand lifts up to wipe a tear of the edge of his eyes. " . . yes. because I can."

" alright sweetheart, I get how you're pretty good at what you do . . but you can't be that sure you'll beat the number one harbinger, can you?"

" hell yeah I can! " you stood up, as he offered an impossible amount of resources, going even as far as to offer up one of his business to you—in doubt that you'd beat capitano himself.

as you followed throughout the distant trail of elemental traces throughout natlan, trying to find the abysmal saurian that had been causing your most recent commissioner much trouble before suddenly hearing voices, and getting sucked into a different environment.

your head ached, as you opened your eyes—the night kingdom?! remnants of livid souls whispered and wailed. quickly analyzing your surroundings, it was almost as if no one else was there before a voice materialized behind you. "so you . . are the rumored hero. aren't you? quite beautiful I must say."

your features were unseen to him in all his years of exploring the past of the lands all over the home you all call teyvat (or at least for the year being)

"you must be . . a harbinger, right? those badges on your uniform aren't just given to anyone." your eyes scan him briefly before a scoff leaves your lips. "a smart princess. yes, I am." a smirk from behind the shadows of his headwear grew.

"hmm, i must say, i did not expect such a refined lady behind all the recent rumors or who had been taking out my troops." he hummed. "not that it's bad, don't get me wrong." he took slow steps near you

"how about.. you join my cause, pretty? I'll make sure that the nation is safe right by your side, and as well as the others." he reaches his gloved hand out to you. you simply scorn, "join? i hate you fatui. all the same." to be fair, your impression of all of them were just loyal to their archon, as well as mass murderers with no intentions of mercy. so he nodded. "how about I show you what I can service you with? it might convince you."

in a sense, you were unsure if you could, even when your strength was undoubtedly amazing, surpassing most people. "haaah.. getting- cocky now are we, sweetheart?" a lowly gruff escapes the first harbinger's throat.

the soft plush of your thighs squeezed around his cheeks. his helmet laid out on the floor. if he kept it on he knows it hurt the pretty pussy he tried to taste so badly.

well, that brings us back to why and how you got into this position. A bit of convincing goes a long way, I suppose. (in my head i believe fully that capitano has an unironically long tongue just to give context.)

a long swipe of tongue over your clit was unfurled. another kiss to your cunt- he temporarily removed himself from the blissful taste of the entrance his tongue loved to stay so snug inside, biting the tip of his glove off to remove his glove carefully. his long digits start to replace his lips that previously placed themselves onto you.

"n.. ngh." his thumb rubbed your clit so carefully, you almost try pushing his face off, your hands attempting to grab the strands at the back of his head.

originally you were lured out by ororon; into the domain of the night kingdom. but capitano didn't expect you to be so.. enticing, and neither did ororon, even hesitating at first before actually opening the domain.

necessarily capitano didn't even hate you, no. he wanted you. "s- stop.. i don't want you.." his mouth made a pop sound when detaching itself as he smirked, warm breath felt near your cunt. "let this cunt speak for itself . . I'm spoiling you so much, my queen." a raspy, deep chuckle emits, he wanted you more than anything he's ever seen.

even once his tongue starts to slow down, you feel your hips instinctively grind onto his tongue. but he couldn't keep his eyes off you- such a pretty sight, better than a seventieth-floor view. almost with half-lidded eyes, he looked up at you- an icy gaze glossed over your face briefly.

you could feel your whines already emerge from your chest, your throat almost starting to get sore from all the whimpers of his name. you did agree on trading your assistance and strength for keeping natlan safe

he slowly reaches up from your cunt to your lips, a soft, gentle kiss, much different from how his tongue spoke deep and down below you. positioning your back comfortably onto the stone.

"s'pretty like this, aren't you?" "still- hnn.. still hate you, damn harbinger.." you wouldn't give in, not yet, but archons did he know how to pleasure a woman.

"mmf- easy now.. sweetheart." his cock almost choked- your hole barely even taking in its head. "fffuck- stop stop! hurts!" your hips jolted, and holy shit was he lengthy. and girthy. damn.

"did I now?" a genuine tone was prominent in his voice. leaning in closer, checking to see if he accidentally left any scars, or bruises. "tell me where it hurts." he licked off the essence of you on his fingers briefly before caressing your face.

he.. was much more caring than you expected. such a large, muscly man—you expected worse from him. its not even because he took pity on you either, he genuinely cared.

"i- its fine. I just- 't was something I said in the heat of the moment.. don't worry you didn't."

"and.. you're sure?" he tilts his head, clear in the icicles of his eyes that he was still worried. sure he definitely wanted to fuck but what was the point if you weren't receiving any pleasure?

"yeah, yeah I'm fine."

after thoroughly checking on you, he goes back to what he was originally planning to do. maybe you'd like this position more?

or maybe he should really talk you through it, let you know he's right there, behind you, literally.

your back against his chest—he decided on letting you take him at your own pace. his cock twitched, leaking with precum, but he knew if he wanted the best possible experience with you.. it'd be both of you being pleasured, not just himself.

you swear a minute ago he was all softie and stuff, why did he mood swing so damn hard! maybe you liked it when he basically slammed himself inside you—reaching to the very deepest parts that he can.

you were put up in a position of somewhat on all fours, yet both of your hands were up on the rock for support. capitano's words sounded tender, but his touch (for now) was not.

you yelp, every now and then taking you by surprise and grinding the very tip of his length against your g-spot.

"ssshit.. you feel so nice, princess.." the captain threw his head back, his grasp on your waist softening for the slightest moment, before returning to his usual pace.

a dried-up milky ring had casted itself around the base of his shaft- certainly making it clear for how you both have been at it.

the many times your eyebrows have knit, or the amount of moments wherein you rolled your eyes back. hell—even the rock started to creak.

shit did he just- start to rub his fingers over your clit?! "ahh- fuck, fuck!" you whined as you body slowly got even more sensitive by each second. a squealing sob escapes your throat as the fire that pooled in your stomach was only abrupt before you came onto his cock.

sitting you down onto his lap. his hand briefly reached out to pry your thighs open for him, growing a mirror in front of you, reflective and icy.

you could see how his dick bulged in your stomach, making such a pretty mark for others to see.

"no one could treat you better than I am right now, right? tell me.." his voice just as cold, whispery as the night sky idle with stars.

it sent shivers down your spine. capitano groaned at how well your tight cunt took his width. caressing the rough pads of his calloused palms over the sweet mark in your stomach.

you felt your hips giving instinctive sloppy, yet slow thrusts onto his cock. then a sudden cold grasp landed over your throat as you tried to throw your head back. just the prettiest little groan you could feel vibrate across his chest.

you could see pretty slime-like milk-colored rings stretch each time you tried to lift yourself up to use his dick to hit your spot.

he loved feeling his hands over your waist, down to your hips. "fuck," he grunted, picking you up to pin your quintessential figure against said mirror. you shuddered- feeling all the coldness on your back, spreading to every inch of your spine.

"gonna fuck you like i mean it this time, looking so desperate for my cock when you know I look in the mirror. mmf, s'dirty." holding your waist, fingermarks clear, his grasp careful not to place them on the previous smears.

his tip teased itself against your clit, carefully rubbing against it, and trusted in roughly, making you almost scream.

was he really this long, and this fast? his pace matched that of a madman on a roll. every moan you let out only happened to make him even harder. why in the hell did he keep growing?!

you felt every emotion almost all at once, pleasure everlasting and rushing through your veins. it was almost too slippery down there, shaft sliding in n' out so fast- fuck! you didn't want to admit how good he felt inside you.

he grazed one of his hands over your chest. his breathy moans, he was in love with the way your hole stretched out, and over. your body almost wanted to run away- but at the same time, you wanted more.

"t- takin' me like a good girl, mm?" he chortles, you could feel that prominent vein on his shaft, that ran down to the very base, damn it felt good. "f- fuuuck.. fuck y- you!" almost an incessant whine as you let out small mewls of his name. shit he really could do this forever couldn't he . .

every time he pounded your gaping hole, you'd yelp, was he trying to chase your hole?! you swear you head the mirror your back faced crack!

" 'tano . . mmfffuck! i- i think the . . hnnn . . the m- mirror cracked." apart from your unnecessary incoherent babbles you let out mid-sentence, the captain simply chuckled at your barely phonological words. "even better then, I'll make sure you land on something soft."

"shit," he mumbled as his hurried strikes continued, "s'tight . . fuck you trying to keep me inside you?" your clingy cunt couldn't bare to let go of him. his thumb made small, pretentious circles on your hip.

he leans in further to land a kiss on your cheekbone, smirking as he does. solely focusing on how his dick probably kissed your insides better. how sad that he could only imagine how blissful might your nth orgasm be.

the mirror continued to crack underneath the pressure capitano put into his powerful strokes to your womb. strands of your hair stuck to your forehead, while he started to kiss your tears away, he knew he went a little rougher than earlier.

he felt your nails claw, and scratch at his back. his face leaning in closer to place small pecks onto your breasts—single, separate, independent scattered everywhere.

a teetering edge—you arched your back as you came again. you could feel his sticky, goopy load shoot up into you. a loud wail exited your throat, he knew you probably felt amazing.

you slowly took breaths, exhaling, and inhaling as capitano helped you calm down. resting his hardness inside your hole for a bit 'till it softened. he rests you against the cracked mirror, checking if your back hurt, kissing your forehead.

"so, you want to join my mission now, pretty?"

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lady-raziel · 8 months ago

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idk man i know times are hard but i can't help but feel that watcher putting all their eggs in the basket that is their own streaming service is a bad call. like sure i totally get wanting a platform where you have full control both creatively and financially but i feel they might be misjudging how much loyalty non-hardcore fans might have for what they're creating. in every internet fandom there's a subsection of people willing to pay with actual money to support the creators they enjoy, and that's what services like patreon are for. but to expect that casual viewers will sign up and pay a monthly fee to get access to just watcher content when a large portion of them were likely just watching the content because it was free and accessible on youtube assumes that someone who isn't a diehard fan won't just go "oh well" and find something else on youtube that IS still free? that seems like a miscalculation to me. the massive fanbases online content creators have may literally be only possible because the content is available to anyone-- it seems foolish to assume that every single one of those fans is going to stick around once you try to upsell them.

i hope this new venture goes well for the watcher crew. I really do. but i also know that a lot of brands and startups that bank on the loyalty they earned when their product was free or low cost and expect that to sustain them while they try to do something that historically has not gone well for the vast majority of businesses. at best, they'll have halved their fanbase by alienating those who can't or don't want to pay and made it much more difficult for remaining fans to create fandom products like memes or gifs that promote their shows on social media. at worst, they'll discover in the near future the independent streaming service model is unsustainable with only the fans they have left and by that point they'll have already deleted themselves from youtube and made it impossible to come back to the level of success they had before. any attempt to return to youtube will be an admission of a critical miscalculation and i doubt many remaining fans will tolerate the back and forth. they'll have crippled their credibility, relevancy, and fanbase loyalty over a very short period of time-- and i don't know if it would even be possible to come back and still be beloved after all that.

worst of all-- if the watcher streaming service crashes and burns after they've already removed all their content from youtube, all the watcher shows are essentially going to become lost media, only accessible via reuploaders willing to risk a copy strike or if you know someone who has a copy downloaded. given how genuinely good the watcher content is in the sea of lackluster youtube mush, that really seems like a damn shame.

i hope the watcher team sees how everyone is responding and decides to course correct before it's too late and get away with only the hit to their reputation that they've already taken by announcing this, instead of pushing forward on a path that might lose them everything instead. nothing i've said here is with any hate intended toward anyone involved or those who are excited about the new service, but this just seems like a really ill-advised decision to me.

#watcher #watcher tv #i'm not really mad or sad and like i said none of this is said with ill intent #but yeah i think they should have market tested this idea first

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flwrkid14 · 3 months ago

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The Immortal Weight of Tim Drake

There’s a part of Tim that he keeps buried deep inside, locked away so no one can see it—will ever see it. He can’t let them know. Not Dick, not Jason, not Bruce. Hell, not even Steph or Cass. It’s better this way. Because the truth is, Tim Drake isn’t like them. He can’t stay dead.

No matter how many times it happens—how many times a blade finds its way into his gut, a bullet catches him in the chest, or a fall from a skyscraper crushes every bone in his body—Tim comes back. Not right away. No, it takes minutes, sometimes agonizing minutes, where he lies broken, breathless, and unmoving, with nothing but the darkness pressing in. He feels it each time. The quiet nothingness of death that should be final but never is.

He’s not like Jason.

Jason died. Really, truly died. He was buried, mourned, and remembered as the second Robin. His grave sat cold, a monument to a boy too good for the world, too bright to last. And Jason, when he clawed his way out, became a zombie in every sense of the word—not quite living but not quite dead either.

Jason knows what it’s like to rise from death, to feel like he doesn’t belong, like a walking corpse.

But Tim doesn’t know that part.

Tim knows what it’s like to die. He knows the brief moments of oblivion that come with it, the aching cold, the stillness. But he’ll never stay dead. His revival is a guaranteed, while Jason's was a miracle. He’ll never have a grave. Never be mourned, because he’ll always come back.

And that’s what hurts the most.

No one sees him die. He’s careful. So damn careful. On the rare occasions when he can’t hide the fact that he’s dead for a few minutes—those close calls where he doesn’t get up fast enough—he brushes it off, masking the pain with a smile and a joke. If anyone noticed the blood pooling in his suit or the sickening sound of his heart stopping for too long, they never questioned it. The danger passes, and life goes on.

For them, anyway.

For Tim, it never really stops. Every death, every time he’s pushed past the edge, it weighs on him. He knows he’s playing with something dangerous—something unnatural. But what choice does he have? The truth is, it’s not just that he can’t stay dead—it’s that he should be dead. So many times over, in fact.

There are days when Tim wonders if he’s meant to be this way. Maybe, in some twisted, cosmic joke, the universe decided that Tim Drake would be the one who can’t die. Maybe it’s because Gotham needs someone like him. Someone to shoulder the risks no one else can take. After all, if Tim can’t die, what’s one more mission where death is a near certainty? What’s one more gamble with his life? It doesn’t matter anymore, right?

And he doesn’t want them to know, because the moment they know, everything changes. If Dick saw Tim’s body cold and unmoving for just a little too long—if Bruce knew Tim had been gone, even for a heartbeat—what would they do? Tim knows exactly what they’d do. They’d stop sending him on the dangerous missions. They’d protect him, smother him with concern, lock him away to preserve him like some fragile thing that can’t be touched.

But the truth is, Tim’s more dangerous now than he’s ever been. Because he can go where no one else can. He can risk everything, go into every deadly mission, every impossible scenario where the chance of survival is zero. Because he’s already proven that, for him, death is temporary.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean he isn’t scared every single time it happens—when he feels life slipping away, the weight of his body going limp, his heart stopping, his breath gone. There’s that brief moment, that flicker of panic in his chest as he wonders, Is this the time I don’t come back? Is this the one that sticks?

But then the pain rushes back, and so does his heartbeat.

He’s alive again, and no one’s the wiser.

Tim can die a thousand times over, but he’ll always get back up. And that’s his curse. To always come back. Even if it means he’ll always be alone in the moments that matter most.

He’ll never have a grave. Never be mourned. But maybe that’s the point.

Jason can have the grave, the tragedy, the return from death that breaks the world apart. Tim just… dies. And he’ll keep dying. Keep coming back. Because that’s what he’s meant for.

It’s better if no one knows. If they don’t know, they won’t hesitate to send him on the missions no one else could survive. They’ll trust him to do what they can’t. And Tim will keep shouldering that weight, carrying death with him like a shadow, never far from his heels.

Because for Tim, death isn’t an ending. It’s just another step in the fight.

#tim drake #tim drake angst #batfam #metahuman tim drake #immortal tim drake #tim drake can't stay dead #i have the idea that bruce and dick would try and keep tim as safe as they can bcs of the guilt of tim dying under their care #tim totally sees jason's death as a tragedy bcs he saw the aftermath of how it affected people #tim sees his own deaths as unimportant because when he dies nothing changes #no lives are missed and no one is mourned like they mourned jason #to him death is just another thing that happens and he comes back from

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itgirl-111 · 1 year ago

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OFFENSIVELY ATTRACTIVE VAUNT

Why do I have to be so offensively attractive? Everything about me from top to toe is perfection. You've never seen a face as pretty and flawless as mine. No cause why do I have to look this hot? I'm fr the hottest girl on the planet. Everything about me from top to toe is pure perfection, my individual features are perfect and flawless but when they come together they are so harmonious? Like everything just fits my face so fucking perfectly like it's meant to be there. Every inch of my face and body is gorgeous and flawless. I am a walking masterpiece, I'm a work of art. Everyone is obsessed with me the first time they see me, I am so drop dead gorgeous that people literally double take and gasp once they lay their eyes on me. I mean, I'm always the center of attention because why wouldn't I be? I high key give off real main character vibes, it's like I straight up walked out of an anime. It's near impossible for someone to look this humanely beautiful but I do because I'm just too damn stunning. I literally take everyone's breath away. I am so offensively attractive, people find it difficult to not look at me, I swear all eyes turn only to me because I'm literally the most beautiful ever. It's only once in a blue moon that you'd get a chance to see a person as attractive as I am, Im once in a lifetime afterall. I get complimented every single day, I hear everyone call me beautiful more than my own name. I am too painfully attractive, it's indescribable. I'm the typa girl who you see once and never forget. I literally got everyone feeling some type of way they never felt before. I am literally so utterly mesmerizing. I got everyone simping for me fr. I'd be literally breathing and everyone would be down bad for me, Literally down bad. I got universal sex appeal, meaning everyone regardless of sexuality is down bad for me . I am so sexy people genuinely cannot get over it and everyday I just get 100x trillion times hotter. I am just sooo damn fine like I've got too pretty of a face and even more powerful vibe. I believe in my supremacy fr. Sometimes it's just so hard to grasp the fact that a person as attractive as I, is living on the same planet as everyone else, everyone is damn lucky to be born in the same generation as I am. It's ridiculous how many simps I have, like damn I really got everyone down bad for me huh. I am the pinnacle of God tier beauty and charisma.

There's something about my vibe which is just so uniquely mine, like my vibe and energy is so one of a kind, everyone can feel my vibe even before I walk into the room. I give off an expensive, powerful, hot girl vibe who straight up walked out of an anime I swear lol. My energy is way too magnetic and irresistible, it speaks volumes. My presence is literally out of this world. The way I carry myself, the way I talk, the way I do things, the way I think, the way I look, my energy, my mannerisms, my habits, all of it is way too unique to be replicated. Everyone wanna study me like their favourite subject. It's impossible to mistake me for another one, I stand out and outshine literally everyone with my beauty, charisma, and interesting personality. The fact that it comes to me so naturally and effortlessly? Even better. I've got such amazing wit and humour, I'm so personable that people genuinely love to be around me even though I may seem intimidating at first. I always know how to spark interesting and amazing conversations, I know when to speak and be quiet, I got that perfect balance between loud and quiet confidence. My intelligence and the way I keep learning new things so easily? Even hotter!. I am an ICON. My energy is actually so magnetic, I have that little something, that is just so insanely attractive and captivating that it cannot be described in words, only felt. I truly believe in my own supremacy.

#vaunt #vaunting #vaunts & affirmations #manifestation #manifesting #loassumption #affirmations #affirm #affirmyourlife #affirmdaily #manifestingreality #manifestyourreality #master manifestor #self concept #self concept affirmations #law of assumption #neville goddard

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petertingle-yipyip · 6 months ago

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BECAUSE OF YOU - KAZ BREKKER

Pairing: kaz brekker x reader

Word Count: 3,741

Summary: Getting through to Kaz Brekker is damn near impossible. One night after a seemingly rough run-in, something brings out a confession in you both. //follow-up//

You’d been in the Dregs for what felt like your whole life. Practically born into it. You always said they raised you, taught you, but that didn’t mean Per Haskell wasn’t going to get his piece. You had a contract with the Barrel boss as soon as you could read and write. That didn’t mean you understood what any of it meant when you signed.

So when you stood in his office, money in your bag to get out of it, it suddenly didn’t feel right. Maybe it was because of your loyalty to the Dregs. They were all you ever had and the tattoo seemed to burn as you thought of leaving. Or maybe it was because it wasn’t Per Haskell in that seat.

“What business?” Kaz asked without sparing you much of a glance.

His voice snapped you from your daze but your mouth felt dry. You swallowed and had to refrain from reaching for your bag. The hardest part of being a thief was the patting of your pockets to ensure you had what you needed. You always felt you had forgotten something so you needed that checklist sometimes.

It makes you an easy mark. Kaz always scolded you. He would tap your hand with the crow’s head of his cane when you started to make the move whenever you two went on jobs. But it didn’t stop him from bringing you with him whenever the Wraith wasn’t available.

“Y/N?” He asked after an extended silence.

You finally met his eyes and he stared intently. You adjusted your bag and dared a step deeper into the office so the door closed behind you.

“I had a deal with Per Haskell.” You began, trying to control your voice, but the way his expression shifted from annoyance to scrutiny told you that you hadn’t. “It was to end my contract. I hope you’ll honor it.”

“Hmm.” He lifted a brow and flipped through some papers, the material of his gloves gliding easily across the thin materials. You used to wonder how he could do everything with the gloves, especially his sleights, but it was one of many mysteries of Kaz Brekker. One of his allures, you supposed. “A fair deal?”

“No.” You smirked slightly. “The old man was desperate when it came to finding you so he took the short stick so I’d help him.”

He tossed your paperwork on the desk and his elbows rested on the surface. He folded his gloved hands and watched intently as you came closer.

“An opportunity you’d be stupid not to take advantage of.” He said simply, as if it was a fact.

You looked down at the papers, your young and messy signature. You saw the scratched out words and numbers, their replacements added with Per Haskell’s initials. You were still surprised that you had worked it out with him.

“I didn’t help him.” You added. He had to have known, even if Inej didn’t tell him. He always knew everything as far as you could tell, or he had a very educated guess at least. “Whenever he asked me to look somewhere I just wandered around.”

“Is that sentiment I hear?” He teased and you glared at him. “If you want out, you can have it. I have no intention of forcing you to stay if you have your own means.”

“Well aware, thank you.” You answered sharply. Did you want him to ask you to stay? Your brain was telling you to do something. Move closer, reach out to him, check your money. But you put a hand over the tattoo under your sleeve instead while you looked back to your contract. “Just seems unreal.” You finally settled on.

“I need a lieutenant, if you’d like reason to stay.” He offered and your eyes snapped back to him. He leaned back in his chair and offered a small shrug. The move was almost defensive, like he’d been caught. “Who else would you suggest I pick?”

“Inej would’ve been your best option.” It was your turn to shrug. “I’d need a new contract.”

“Close out that one and we’ll draw it up.”

“Kaz.”

“Yes?”

You said nothing. The hesitancy had to show in your face because he seemed to soften, a miniscule difference that you’d only notice if you knew to pay attention. And you always paid attention to Kaz.

“I’ll give you a fair deal, Y/N. You’ve earned that much, more than that even.” He said honestly. You felt the flush of your cheeks and stood at the edge of the desk. From there, you could see that his bad leg was stretched out beneath the desk and the crow-topped cane was against the desk beside him. “The choice is yours.”

“I…” You sighed, giving in to the idea and slipping your hand in your bag to your bundle of money.

Kaz smirked and you frowned, knowing you were caught.

“Still?” His brows raised. “Who’s going to rob you here?”

“You. In fact, I’m sure you have at least once.” You deadpanned and then broke into a smile. He nearly returned it. “Your lieutenant, huh?”

“If that’s what you wish.”

“Is that what you wish?”

He stood, leaning a hand against the desk as he came around to stand in front of you. You took an automatic step back. It was drilled into you that Kaz needed his space. You had once put a hand on his arm when you stumbled, your finger just barely finding the small gap between his jacket sleeve and his glove, and he jerked away from you so quick you had almost fallen again. The glare he pinned you with was so intense you kept your eyes down for the rest of the day.

“You…” He let out a deep sigh and his hands flexed. “You are more important here than you know.”

“I’m sure the others can pick up the jobs without me.”

“I don’t mean for jobs.”

“Right…” You nodded slowly before pulling out the stack of money. You held it by the end, pushing your hand forward so he could take it. “It’s all there but feel free to count.”

“I trust you.” He nodded and reached forward.

Gloves fingers grazed yours and you were quick to withdraw your hand. You watched his face for a reaction to the touch but nothing happened. He continued with his movements as if nothing happened, grabbing the contract and skimming it, while you were stiff as a board awaiting his reprimand. When he began to thumb through the money, you relaxed.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad if he initiated the contact. Another mystery.

He split the stack into two uneven portions and handed you the bigger of the two while he dropped the smaller stop the paperwork. Your brows furrowed and you took a small step back.

“What are you-“ You began but he shook his head and silently closed the distance. He grabbed your wrist and put the money in your hand. You had to clench your jaw to keep it from falling open.

“As I said, you’ve earned this.” He said pointedly. He seemed more focused on the words he said than anything else. “I’ll send Haskell his cut and that’ll be that.”

“He’ll be furious.” You reasoned. “He’ll come for me.”

“He won’t.” Kaz insisted, keeping his eyes on yours. “After what happened here, he wouldn’t dare show his face.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d be safe.”

“It’s Ketterdam. No where’s safe.” He shook his head, hands slipping from yours. You almost missed the feeling of his gloves. “At least here, you’ll have people who care about what happens to you.” He leaned onto the desk behind him.

“You mean Jesper and Nina.” You answered, burying the sadness that rose when you knew he likely didn’t include himself in that.

“Everyone here will watch your back, Y/N. As I’ve said, your presence matters here.”

“Will you?” You asked before you could think the question through. “Watch my back, that is.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“You call me a pigeon whenever you can.” You deadpanned again.

“Then stop patting your pockets when we’re on a job.” He retorted and it almost sounded playful.

“I tried!” You exclaimed and threw your hands forward. “I can’t help the dread that I’ve forgotten something.”

The cursed expression that bordered a smile and smirk crossed his features. His arms came across his chest and he leaned closer to you. “What do you say then?”

You chewed your lower lip in thought. You had no real plan as to what to do when you left so would staying be that bad? And it was Kaz asking you to stay, after all. Not Jesper or Nina, not even Inej. Kaz.

“The deal is the deal.” You nodded and he smirked proudly.

That interaction had been years ago. You signed on as Kaz’s lieutenant and you two had been working together in the time since. Inej came through occasionally and when she did, Kaz left you in charge. It was always a bit of a sting when he went off to spend a few days with her, but she was his first love. You knew that much, whether the stubborn bastard would admit it or not.

You also came to learn that Kaz had an overall aversion to physical touch. He admitted to you one night when you two were alone, staking out some target for some heist he had planned. You made an off-hand comment about the gloves or the coat even in summertime and he gave a brief, almost strangled reason. He didn’t say when it started or why it started, just that he’d rather die.

However, you noticed you had won small victories. With a barrier, of course. He offered you his hand to get up from your seat or to climb up or over something. If you two were assuming the role of a couple, he let you put your arm through his. His hand would rest featherlight against your back when you two passed through tight quarters so you wouldn’t be separated. He once even let you put your head on his shoulder when you were holed up in a small room late into the night while you waited for the stadwatch to pass.

Now, you were in his office waiting for his return. Usually you did your work in your own room, but since there were no upcoming jobs, you simply sat in the velvet lounge chair you had convinced him to leave there for you and read a book. It was a fascinating story of demon-hunting nephilim. You were flipping the page quickly and the door slammed open.

You jumped and let the book fall from your hands, flying to your feet. You rested a hand at the knife strapped to your thigh but let out a sigh of relief when it was only Kaz.

“Saints, Kaz.” You laughed in relief. You looked over at him and noticed he had a hand tucked under his jacket and a clench to his jaw that was tighter than usual. “Are you alright?” You asked carefully, daring a step closer.

He stepped in and leaned against the wall, knocking his cane against the door so it would slam shut. With the new privacy, he let the cane clatter to the floor and panted heavily. You were at his side quickly and reached forward to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Kaz?” You tried but he refused to look at you. You took in a quick scan of his injuries. His usually carefully combed hair was aggressively disheveled and falling into his eyes, a dried stream of blood across his chin, a dribbling line from somewhere above his eyebrow. “Go sit and I’ll get my kit.”

He shook his head and you weren’t sure if he was denying the chair or your help, or simply trying to shake off whatever was rattling around in his head. You groaned slightly and grabbed his jacket sleeve. You carefully put his arm over your shoulders and tucked yourself into his side, opposite of the one he clutched tightly. You moved quickly enough that he couldn’t shove you away but you still figured the move would get you in his bad graces.

You spared a glance and saw the dark liquid staining the already dark fabric. You shook your head slightly and began to drag the man across the room. His posture was rigid, his limp more prominent, and you knew you’d get an earful for grabbing onto him but he gave you no choice. You didn’t want to risk him collapsing to the floor or waiting for him to move on his own.

“I’m sorry.” You confessed as you ducked out from under his arm and helped him into the chair. “Just… I didn’t want you to bleed out over there.”

You couldn’t find other words so you left. You hurried to your own room for your kit and practically sprinted back to his office. You locked the door behind you, knowing Kaz would hate for anyone to see him in a vulnerable state. Except for you, it seemed. He trusted you just enough to let you see some of that. Not all of it, you could tell, but enough.

“Can you move your hand?” You asked and you knelt at the side of the chair. You didn’t dare to kneel in front of him.

He winced and moved his hand, which allowed no better view. You reached forward and flicked the material of jacket away, but the fabric of his shirt was already stuck to the wound.

“You’ll have to take your shirt and jacket off.” You said, trying to maintain composure. “The material’s stuck to it. I can’t see anything… Or at least unbutton them.”

Asking Kaz to sit shirtless in front of you was a huge deal. He had his touch aversion, and you respected that, but it bordered on being too intimate. He tensed at your request but his eyes met yours in question. It wasn’t whether or not you were sure. He knew as well as any Dreg that you had the best handiwork when it came to wounds, Grisha aside of course, so if you asked for something like that, it was necessary. The question was more for himself, if he could handle it.

You dropped your eyes to your kit instead. You knew you had to let him come to a decision on his own so you prepped your materials instead. Clean strips of fabric to clean the wound, a sturdy thread looped through a skinny needle, long cloths for bandaging, and a pair of gloves. You slipped your hands into the rubber and flexed your fingers to ensure they fit. The material stuck to your damp skin and you realized your hands were clammy.

You looked back at him cautiously and saw he had unbuttoned his shirt, only moving the side with the wound out of the way. He took a deep breath and held it for a second. You knew you should wait until he said something but judging by the tightness in his jaw, he wouldn’t be saying anything anytime soon. He breathed out and you saw the smallest of nods, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

You reached in carefully, pushing the fabric aside a little further to see the wound. You kept it to the side with one hand and grabbed for the fabric strips with the other. You angled your arm to keep his open shirt back and touched your fingers to his side. His head snapped towards you so fast you feared he’d get whiplash. You could feel his stare in you but you refused to look at him, focusing on clearing the blood for a better view of the wound.

“Snagged a box from a clinic delivery.” You explained. “Had to relearn some things like stitches but I figured…”

“Why?” He asked and the single word seemed to scrape at his throat. Whether it was from the situation or the fight he came from, you weren’t going to ask.

‘Because of you’ you wanted to say. Because you wanted to touch him without triggering a panic attack. Because it was the least you do to show you cared.

“Would you let me do this without them? Besides, it’s cleaner this way…” You shrugged. “If you can pick locks and do sleights with yours, I could learn this. Trust me, it’s nothing.”

“It’s everything.” He nearly whispered.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” You tried to keep him talking, hoping it’d keep him distracted so he wouldn’t jolt away from you.

You had the wound clean by then and knew it’d scar, but a few quick stitches would be easy enough.

“No.”

“Okay.”

You swapped the fabric for the needle.

“This’ll sting.” You warned and sat up on your knees for a better angle. You looked up at him for an answer and his eyes were surprisingly softer than you’d ever seen them. “Are you alright?”

You two stared at each other for a moment longer and you recognized what it was. Appreciation.

“Other than that?” His chin dipped towards the slice on his side.

You chuckled slightly and shook your head before turning your focus to the stitches. You had to move relatively slower than usual. It was the first time you had done stitches on a body with gloves. You practiced on your blankets or your clothes. Truthfully, Kaz was the only reason you learned with the gloves.

You could feel him watching your hands. Maybe he was just admiring your intentful movements. Maybe he was thinking about the gloves, thankful for the barrier between his skin and yours. Regardless, he said nothing and neither did you.

When you were done, you swapped again for the longer strip. You offered it to Kaz first.

“Do you want to do it? If you wrap it, I can tie it.”

“No, you can…” He trailed off.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Can you stand?”

He pushed himself up with a grimace. You collected your material and stood, waiting for him to shrug his shirt down his arms. You put one end on the wound and took his hand to hold it in place. You made sure to walk around instead of reaching to maintain his space. When you got to the end, you looped it under one of the layers and tied it in a knot. You tucked the knot and ran a gloved hand over the material quickly to ensure it hadn’t gotten twisted.

“What about your head?” You took a step back. “Does it hurt?”

“Y/N…” He said quietly. Your head cocked in quiet interest and he took your hand in his.

He peeled your glove off, his remaining in place, and held your hand loosely in his. One barrier instead of two, clearly making a difference to him. Your brows furrowed but you bit your tongue to keep any comments to yourself. You feared if you acknowledged it, it would end. He took another deep breath and winced. Whether from the wound or the situation, you didn’t dare ask.

You reached your other gloved hand up and carefully pushed his hair away. You saw the cut on his forehead and frowned slightly.

“It doesn’t need stitches but I could at least clean it.” You offered. “Make sure you’re presentable again.”

He snorted a small laugh, a tight-lipped momentarily smile grazing his lips.

“Presentable… Without a shirt?”

That was your preferred view but you did wonder if Kaz knew that. Did Kaz know that you thought about him in ways you shouldn’t? That you waited to know he was back when you didn’t go with him? That you relearned your techniques with gloves to meet him somewhere in the middle? That you sat in that corner chair, reading a book while he worked, just to be near him?

Did Kaz know you loved him?

“Did you hit your head?” You asked, flicking your gaze to either of his eyes to try and gauge his awareness. “You may be concussed.”

“No, I’m…” He began but his brows furrowed in thought for a moment. “Well, yes, I did, but that’s not- It doesn’t-“ He sighed.

“Just sit down.” You shook your head and gently pushed on his shoulder. He obliged, but there was a hint of a pout on his face.

Kaz Brekker didn’t pout. What was going on with him?

You stood in front of him this time after gathering your materials. You kept them in your ungloved hand and only made contact with him using the covered one. You didn’t dare push or intrude any further than you already had. You cleaned the wound easily enough, but those damn eyes were still wide as they stared at you.

“Are you sure your head’s alright?” You quirked a brow and knelt down in front of him.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not when…”

“Kaz, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” You sighed and crossed your arms over your upraised knee. “I don’t speak in half sentences.”

“Thank you.” He said instead and your eyes went wide.

“You’re welcome.” You answered carefully. “And I’m sorry I had to push my luck tonight. I had to make sure you’d be alright.”

“The way life goes around here.” He reasoned, forcing a casual tone.

“It’s different.” You muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll just be thankful you don’t send someone to kill me.” You said instead.

“Not you. Never you.”

“Oh…”

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you.” He blurted, as if there was an unseen clock ticking down.

“Okay?”

“I…” He closed his eyes and cursed quietly.

“I love you.” You said quickly without thinking. Your mouth dropped and you smacked your ungloved hand to it. “OhmygodIdidnotjustsaythat.” You mumbled against your own skin.

Kaz’s eyes were wide with shock before he gathered his wits and smiled at you.

A real, honest smile.

Your cheeks burned and you could feel your stomach tightening. You dropped your eyes and scooted away to collect the rest of your kit instead.

“Y/N?” He was leaning over the arm of the chair.

“Kaz?” You answered but your voice was embarrassingly high pitched. If your hands were empty, you would’ve smacked yourself in the forehead.

“I loved you first.”

#kaz brekker #kaz dirtyhands brekker #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #ck #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x fem!reader #soc fic #soc fanfiction #soc fanfic #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fic #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you

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lych33dragoncookie · 3 months ago

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Only the masterpieces that survive the fiercest flames earn their place in history.

(Analysis post)

Alright, they absolutely cooked this update. Like, undeniably so. I was admittedly not that huge of a fan of the last 2 beast yeast chapters we got; they had really good ideas, and Mystic Flour is a wonderful character, but... Dark Cacao hasn't really been done enough with for it to feel like it had the amount of weight it could have, and it really doesn't feel like much about him actually changed at all. Combine that with a complete lack of interesting dynamics and you have a lot of very good and genuinely pretty well thought out story concepts with extensive cultural research, executed in a way that feels more like a traditional old-school story that weakens the attachment the audience feels to the components of said story.

Here, though? I have no complaints so far. It was absolutely wild in fact, to the point where I don't think it's gonna happen again (nor am I entirely sure it should ever happen again). This was back to back, non-stop, smack to the face one after the other. The moment the first point of conflict came up, it was just shit happening left and right; even in the mandatory moment of rest where we chill out for a bit, it's revealed that hey, these sandstorms? Yeah the sand is actually ashes. It's the remains of all the people that live here. Whether they died off on their own or were killed by someone else.

And if that wasn't enough, very shortly after;

... It's fucking crack.

So, people die and kill each other here very frequently, and not only are their remains visibly on display, their ashes also become sandstorms that make it near impossible to navigate the land; on top of being something that people snort like cocaine to become more energetic and aggressive.

We started fucking wild, dude. This whole thing is pulling no punches.

Though, I do wanna note; I really, really enjoyed the interactions between Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese. It shows not only how forgiving she is, but how these two have known each other for an incredibly long time, and know each other well. They're incredibly comfortable around each other, despite it all, and despite how brazen and Very Much Not Strategic the queen here can be. I really, really enjoyed them.

Always fun to see a recovering villain do things for good, but in their own unique way that's still not exactly heroic but definitely effective and, at times, very gratifying.

Though I enjoyed all this, there's one thing I wanna talk about above all else.

The star of the show. Note that every single part was enjoyable, of course, and he wouldn't be half as interesting without Golden Cheese Cookie to serve as a parallel, but they've cooked up something special here.

So far, Burning Spice's extent of onscreen appearance is very, very short, but... I don't think I need to tell you that he's already made an impact and a half.

Christ, that's violent. With the sound effects and everything too, god damn. But, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a pretty superficial source of judgement for this character. It's very very telling of what kind of person he is now, what he's all about, what he's willing to do, what he likes doing, but...

More than anyone else in recent memory, the devil is in the details. So let's look at those details.

Nothing too much so far, other than how much he absolutely loves destruction, but there's already a trend; namely on "Nothing lasts forever. It's as simple as that", "In the end, everything becomes dust.", and "You, too, shall see that destruction is the only way.". There seems to be an infatuation with the natural process of everything fading away, turning to dust and dying out. An entirely honest one, believing that there is just about nothing else to life. These will be important to keep in mind.

Here, we see a bit of his current relationship with his own immortality. He doesn't seem to mind the idea of losing it, finding something that may eventually take him down, but he still takes great pride in it. These lines, in text, seem somewhat miserable (and trust me, they definitely are), but the voicework in just about every language conveys that they are said in a more neutral, even potentially proudly manner. Again, not much on their own, but...

Here's where we get into the fun part.

This. This is the crux of their character. At the start, him and Golden Cheese cookie were more or less the same. Benevolent royalty, close and personal with their subjects. Beloved, and loving.

And then, they lost it all.

One way or another, their kingdoms were lost, reduced to almost nothing. They were overcome by grief, desperate, unable to cope with their loss. One tried to latch on as hard as possible. Preserve what she could, blindly, replacing the harsh truth of reality with an idealized, constructed world, where no one would ever have to know pain ever again. She shut herself off, and retreated in the safety and peace of a false reality. She would rather have lied to both herself and all her subjects than face reality. And eventually, she had to learn to move on. Let herself and her kingdom heal more naturally, facing reality. The other, meanwhile, was desperate to let go. He detached himself, trying to move past the pain of loss. But, of course, he couldn't force it to happen. No one can. And so with the grief of losing that which he held dear, continuing to be faced with the reality that nothing is forever, over and over, while he endured, the world slowly turning to ash around them again and again... It's no wonder something in there eventually cracked.

What will it take to destroy me. Nothing is forever, and yet, I am.

Nothing is forever. And yet, I am.

With time, misery turned to mania, and in an attempt to overcome their grief, they embraced it, in the worst way possible. A coping mechanism gone horrendously wrong. That destruction, that loss, the inevitability of death... It's not painful, no. It doesn't have to be. It can be thrilling. Exhilarating. A new reason to live. If all you care about turns to dust anyways, if that's really the only logical destination... Why not have some fun with it? Why not embody that inevitable, unstoppable force? Why not become what you fear, so you no longer have to be afraid anymore?

... You know, at least that's what I think is going on here. The next chapter could contradict this reading, but... From what all we have right now, it seems like Golden Cheese and Burning Spice are two completely different paths for the exact same type of pain. They are, in a way, the same, but diverge in almost complete opposite ways where it counts.

Spice is genuinely equal parts absolutely terrifying and absolutely miserable; a balance that is incredibly hard to strike in writing, but always absolutely fascinating and wonderful to observe when it happens. I have to say, the more I found out about them, the more I couldn't keep my eyes off everything they have going on.

I'm loving every little bit of this update. Mad props to the devs for cooking something up here that I am genuinely incredibly invested in, almost to the same degree as White Lily and Dark Enchantress. Banger update. Absolute S tier material.

TL;DR: Burning Spice is terrifying, miserable, and ridiculously cool. Everything about this update was an absolute merciless flurry of consecutive gut-punches. And I loved every second of it.

... Now we sit and wait for Shadow Milk's release next year.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #burning spice cookie #golden cheese cookie #jester ramblings #cookie analysis

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naughtyneganjdm · 21 days ago

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Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 12

Summary: A lot weighs heavy on Joel's mind making him unable to sleep. Roaming around the apartment, he talks to Y/N and they open up to one another with Negan overhearing their discussion. What Negan suggests to help both of them feel better surprises them.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC) & Negan Smith

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/156209020

Warnings: 18+, swearing, angst, smut, this chapter is pure filth, SPOILERS AHEAD DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED. MMF Threesome, two men kissing, heavy touching between two men, dirty talking, unprotected ps in v, etc.

Notes: This is a longer chapter. It's filthy. It explores parts of all three of the main characters. Literally. So yeah, enjoy!

Sleeping was once again damn near impossible for Joel. Making it back to the apartment, you would have thought he would have been exhausted. Physically? He was. Mentally? He couldn’t shut his brain the fuck down. All he kept thinking about was his past. The pain and negative thoughts. About his mistakes and all the things he had done wrong.

Earlier he checked in on the children and came downstairs to sit by the large glass panel windows. He didn’t know how long ago he had pulled up a chair and just sat there staring out at the city lights. Everything seemed so small down below. It made him think about his dreams when he was a kid. All he knew was that he was counting on either football or his musical career to lead him. Instead, life fell to shit.

Back when he was younger, this was the kind of life he dreamt of. Feeling special. Having a big home that only people could dream of having and being able to go anywhere he wanted in the world without worrying about money.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice beckoned him to look back over his shoulder. Standing behind him was Y/N who looked like she had just woken up. Her eyes appeared tired while she stood before him in her red plaid pajama pants and a white tank top. Shaking his head, Joel pushed his seat back and turned in it to stare out at her. “You stole my look.”

“Kind of,” Joel sighed looking down at what he was wearing. Instead of having red plaid, his pajamas were plaid green and he also had the white tank top on. “Did I wake you up?”

“Well you were being incredibly loud,” she joked, reaching for a chair to pull it up beside Joel. Keeping it close, she lowered down into the seat and yawned. “I woke up and I just couldn’t fall back asleep. No matter how much I tried.”

“I have that problem lately a lot too,” Joel explained, sitting forward in the chair to get closer to the glass to look down at the people below. By this time of night he could hardly make out anything down there. There was a faint glow from stray lights that illuminated the street, but just barely. “My brain just wants to torture me with all my thoughts.”

“You wanna talk about it?” she offered, her eyes staring out at him which he saw from the corner of his. Instead of looking at her, he lowered his head and exhaled loudly. “I’m always here if you need to talk. You know that.”

“It’s hard to talk to you,” Joel confessed, reaching up to stroke over the back of his neck. Half of his woes, if not more were all in relation to her and he didn’t think it was fair throwing that all on her again. “You know how I feel about you.”

“That’s what this is about?” she spoke softly, not showing any signs of being angry with him over it.

“Some of it,” he was honest, shaking his head about and leaning back in the chair to keep his eyes on the city. “For some reason, I keep thinking about everything I did wrong. What led us to…this.”

“This right here?” she threw her finger up to circle it as if suggesting the apartment they were in.

“No,” Joel smirked, shaking his head about. “I mean how the two of us are. With me alone. And you with Negan,” Joel lowered his voice not wanting to wake anyone else up to hear what they were talking about. “I had to work really hard to push you away like I did.”

“Joel…” she said his name, dragging it out. Stopping to think about what she wanted to say, she shifted in the seat and licked her lips. “I uh…I wish I knew what I could say to make you feel better. The last thing I want is you feeling miserable.”

“It’s not your responsibility to make me feel better,” Joel retorted with a weak smile, his dark eyes finally looking over at her. In the small amount of light, they could see each other but not much more than that. “It never was.”

A shuddering breath escaped her lips with Joel’s eyes tearing over and he shrugged, “I never realized everything you did to make sure that I was okay. Constantly. You were always there doing your best to make me happy. But that was never your job Y/N. You were supposed to be my partner in life. You weren’t supposed to lift me up. My emotions aren’t your responsibility. They never were.”

Hearing that from Joel left her speechless. That was never something Joel had ever said to her, so she didn’t know how to respond. Folding his arms in front of his chest, Joel stretched his legs out further and went back to looking at the city.

“Do you know how many times I dreamt of a life like this?” Joel spoke almost regrettably when he thought back on his past. “I wanted to be rich so bad. To have power. Have people look at me like I was something special. I would have killed for this kind of life.”

“I think everyone dreams of a life like this,” she mused, rubbing her hands in over her knees. “I know I thought about it too. I thought I was going to be a big name. Someone everyone knew the name of. I was going to travel and show what the world was really like. The good, the bad. I wanted to live in the city…”

A smile tugged at her tired features and she stood up from the chair to look out at the city, “I never dreamt of a place this big. But a flat in the city? God, that would have been amazing. Maybe having my studio workshop area inside of my apartment? That was it for me.”

“I really thought I was going to be something, y’know?” Joel snorted, shaking his head. Back when he was in high school he really did believe that he was going to make it big. It wasn’t even a question in his mind. He was that fucking sure of himself. “I was so arrogant. I thought I was better than most people. I was stubborn and I knew that if anyone could achieve something, it was me. I was gonna ride the football career as much as I could, use my connections to get me into the music business.”

“You were good enough,” she corrected Joel who rolled his eyes. Hearing him talk down about his talents was nothing something she was going to allow him to do. “You were.”

“I wasn’t,” Joel chuckled, his head shaking in disbelief. “Football maybe could have gotten me all the way through college. But I don’t think I could have made it to the big leagues. My arm was good, but it wasn’t that good.”

“Well now that’s just bullshit,” she claimed, reaching up to smack at Joel’s chest with the back of her hand. “I know for a fact that your arm was amazing. Think about all the scouts that came out just for you. They all wanted you. I think a lot of them told you that you probably didn’t even have to stay in school that long because you were that good.”

“You’d say anything to make me feel better,” Joel suggested with a long exhale. That was just the kind of person that she was.

“Why would I need to lie about things Joel?” she inquired, a sense of curiosity flooding her body. Sure, she could lie, but right now she was just going off of facts. When they were young, everyone thought Joel was going to be a big name. “What do I gain from lying to you right now?”

“You get to be on my good side?” Joel joked, a wicked smirk tugging at his features. Looking over at her, his right eyebrow arched and it made her smile. “Lord knows you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

“I’ve been there and I’m still here,” she reminded him, grabbing a firm hold of his shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“You shouldn’t have had to see that side of me,” Joel frowned, reaching up to place his hand in over hers. Squeezing it firmly, Joel took his time to think about everything he put her through. “I never wanted you to see the darkest parts of me. You were the light in my life that brought me joy. The fact that I ever let it get that bad…”

“It’s the past,” she interrupted him, not wanting to have him get upset, but it was really too late for that.

“But it effected the future,” Joel admitted, urging her to lower her hand. Pushing forward in the seat, Joel rest his elbows over his knees and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to have all this anger grow inside of me. I knew I was capable of being awful. It was there my whole life. And when my parents died…I did what I thought was right. I put Tommy first. And then when you got pregnant, I put you and Elizabeth first too. I did the right thing. There shouldn’t have been any anger inside of me for doing what was right.”

“I think it’s alright to be disappointed,” she tried to give him an excuse and Joel scoffed, standing up from the chair and moving in beside her to stand in front of the window. “I think anyone in your position would have felt the same.”

“No they wouldn’t,” Joel denied, his hands settling at his hips while he rocked back and forth on his feet. “I could have been facing this all alone. But I wasn’t. I had you. You never left my side. Not once. I had a family that loved me. I was lucky. Some people have this kind of shit happen and they have to take on the world alone. Without help. But not me. I had a support system. I had someone who loved me. Someone who saw the best in me even when I didn’t see the best in myself…”

It looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she just lowered her head making Joel’s chest hurt at the sight of it, “I’m sorry. You were always my strength and I let you down. I let everyone down.”

“No you didn’t,” she refused to hear that, turning to face Joel from where she was standing. “I think your parents would be very proud of the man that you became.”

“I was even mad at them for dying Y/N,” Joel informed her with a disgusted shake of his head. “I was so angry at them for dying and forcing me to live the life that I did. I mean, you’d think I’d be mad at them for all the shit before in being parents that were never very present in my life in the first place. But no. I was mad at them for leaving me to take care of everything without them.”

“It was a traumatic thing for an eighteen year old boy to go through,” she defended his actions once more and it had Joel shaking his head. “You had the world in your hands and it was taken from you.”

“No it wasn’t,” Joel corrected her, a broken breath falling from his lips when he looked to her. “I had the world in my hands with you, Ellie and Peter. I just never saw it because I thought the world was this big shiny idea of something more.”

Really he should have just shut up and kept his thoughts to himself. He knew that this kind of talk upset her. Especially since she loved him so much in the past and he did what he had.

“I’m sorry that I let you down,” Joel apologized, a lump growing in his throat. “I wish that right now I could say that I was proud of my life, the things that I’ve done, but I’m not. The only thing I have that I was ever proud of was you and those children. Other than that? I’m a nothing.”

“You shouldn’t be thinking like that,” she stressed doing her best to keep her emotions to herself. “You don’t have to keep apologizing to me.”

“Yes, I do,” Joel groaned, his head dropping down with the tension he was feeling. “It’s annoying because all these voices I hear in my head tell me what a mistake I made. I know nothing will fix what I’ve done. More than anything, I’m angry at myself for my actions. I wish I could say that I made your life better, but I’m an overall disappointment.”

“You’re not,” she assured him, lifting her hand to try to get him to hush his thoughts. “You can’t feed your mind with that shit.”

God, he wanted to say so much to her to fix things, but he knew that no matter what he said they never would be right. There was nothing he could do in order to make up for the decisions he made. Because he let all of the good fall to shit. That was his own fault.

“You deserved this kind of life Joel,” she expressed how she felt, throwing her hand out toward the city. “Both you and Negan were so dedicated to your skills. I wanted the best for both of you. I always did. You both were the two people who deserved this kind of future more than anyone.”

“We both deserved this kind of life,” Joel proposed brushing his fingers through his messy hair. “And we could have done it if I wasn’t such a fucking dick. Instead I was lazy, angry and so depressed about the life I couldn’t have. Maybe if I would have actually tried instead of being bitter about everything, I could have achieved things. Instead we’re here and I made you miserable for years by being…a dick.”

“You two talk like you’re at the end of your life,” a voice spoke up causing both of them to jump. Looking back, Joel reached out for the light that was beside him to turn it on. Behind them was Negan sitting on the couch with his arms stretched out on the back of it bringing attention to his naked chest. Standing up, Negan adjusted the waistband of his gray sweatpants and shrugged his shoulders. “Why do you think your dreams are impossible? You’re not dead.”

“It’s more complicated than that Negan,” Joel grunted wondering how long Negan had been sitting there. How the hell did they not hear him come into the room with the two of them talking? It offended him that Negan had just sat there listening to them to begin with.

“How?” Negan lowered down onto the arm of the couch and waved his hand about in the air. “You’re only nearing forty Joel. You haven’t even reach the middle of your life,” Negan stressed his words, his eyes looking between both Y/N and Joel. There was a seriousness behind the intensity of his hazel eyes. “There is still so much time to do so much more, but it’s like you’ve both given up at the idea of it.”

“No one wants an almost forty year old man to play football for them Negan. That’s an end of a career, not the start of one. Plus, I haven’t thrown a football in years,” Joel declared with a scoff having Negan smile and shake his head dramatically. Brushing his fingers through his messy hair, Negan exhaled loudly and tossed his hands up.

“Yeah, football is out of the question. That’s not what I mean,” Negan agreed with Joel, tapping on his thighs to consider what he wanted to say next. “But that doesn’t mean you have to give up your musical career. Start playing again. Play the guitar. Get out to a local bar. Sing. Get your music out there. Even if you start small, it’s you getting to live the life that you wanted. You can be ninety and still play music Joel. You’ve got your hands. You’ve got your voice. You have the musical talent. Life is what you fucking make of it. You’re not dead.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a hard time playing in front of people,” Joel reminded Negan of how he was which had Negan roll his eyes. “Not all of us are outgoing, charismatic folks that people are just drawn to.”

“I’m very introverted,” Negan corrected Joel with a shake of his head. “I just fake it. All the time. Do you think I always feel like smiling? I put on a show because it’s better than letting my thoughts, my emotions…my stress get to me. I’m a showman through and through, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel strange when the world is fucking eyeballing me.”

Both Joel and Y/N went silent at Negan’s confession. That was never really something that either one of them considered.

“Listening to the both of you is hard. You can play music until the day you die Joel Miller. And Y/N, you can take photos and write just the same. You both think that I’ve made this perfect life for myself,” Negan began, his hand placing in over the center of his naked chest. “I’m nearing forty and my career is over. I put everything into my body. My body is the only thing that I can use in my life. And I’m broken. My knee is a fucking mess. After this next season? I don’t know what direction my life is fucking going in and that scares me. That scares me so much. But both of you? You don’t see the potential that you have. Your dreams? They are all achievable. Talking like there are no other options in life is sad because I’ve never seen two people with so much fucking potential in their life and it’s like you both gave up.”

“Fuck,” Joel grumbled under his breath, his chest aching at the lecture that they both just received from Negan.

“Negan,” Y/N frowned noticing that Negan appeared to be somewhat emotional himself, but he was hiding it behind a strong façade.

“Hey, let’s not make this about me. I just wanted to make a point,” Negan slurred realizing that both of them had a hard time looking at him after what he reminded them. “Joel, I haven’t heard you play your music in a very long time, but after tonight? I know you still have music in your heart. It made you happy. I’m sure you still play great.”

“He’s right. There is nothing to be ashamed of in terms of your music. You’re good,” Y/N added to the conversation with Negan throwing his hand out toward her. “I know what you sound like and I think people would love to learn music from you and hear what you have inside of you.”

“What happened to Joel Miller, the arrogant son of a bitch that I knew when I was younger?” Negan snorted, folding his arms out in front of his chest. “That guy loved having the attention on him. Fuck, he ate it up. He knew he was talented and he didn’t have to question it.”

“Life,” Joel simply answered with a grunt which had Negan rolling his eyes. “I hate the world Negan.”

“You hate yourself,” Negan offered up, his eyes slowly rising up from the ground where he was looking. “I know the feeling all too well. So don’t try to bullshit me. If you love your music, if it means something to you, don’t let it go. Even if you start fucking small, the world isn’t over. You don’t know if you have tomorrow, so start now. Go out. Play your music. Give it a shot. Even if you only make it to small dive bars. Who cares? At least you sort of lived your dream. It’s better than nothing. And now it’s even better because you have a built in support system behind you to lift you up.”

“It’s not that easy,” Joel grunted, resting his hands on his hips in frustration.

“But it fucking is,” Negan shot back, the lines in his forehead growing. “And Y/N, you love taking photos. There isn’t a reason you shouldn’t have that camera in your hands twenty four fucking seven. Take photos. And write. Write about whatever the fuck you want because someone out there is going to want to listen. I promise you. You’re both still so young with so much fucking potential. You just don’t give yourselves a fucking break. And maybe it’s time that you do.”

Smirking, Y/N lowered her head finding what Negan was saying to be inspirational in a sense, but she knew that Joel was upset, “What are you? An inspirational speaker now?”

“Maybe,” Negan’s eyes locked back onto Joel, standing up and moving across the room to step before him. “If people listened to me, well maybe there is a chance that they just might be happy. And that’s a scary fucking thought. Isn’t it?”

“Life came easy to you Negan,” Joel fought back, his eyes narrowing at the idea that Negan thought things in life were that simple.

“It did?” Negan muttered, his jaw flexing in disbelief. “I must have missed that bit because life has been really fucking hard for the most part. I had an abusive father growing up that pretended to be a good dad. I…” Negan paused, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat and his words coming to a slow pause. Suddenly the emphasis he had on things died down when he looked between Joel and Y/N again. “I lost touch with my best friends. I got injured doing what I do best. I lost the love of my life and my career is ending because I’m hurt and I could become crippled if I get hurt again. I’m pushing it just going one more season. So does that really sound easy to you?”

Joel’s lips parted, a huff coming out instead of words with Joel lowering his head to look down at the ground in embarrassment with what Negan just threw out in front of Joel, “Where my life succeeded, yours did not. Vice versa. Which is why I say if you want something in life, you gotta go for it. We don’t know when our life is gonna fucking end. So take advantage of it before it’s too late. And work out whatever the hell is going on between the two of you.”

“There’s nothing…” Y/N went to speak up with Negan holding his finger up to silence them. Turning off the light, Negan reached for both of their wrists to tug them over toward the bedroom that he shared with Y/N. Closing the door, Negan turned on the lamp and headed over toward the seat at the corner of the room to drop down. “There is nothing going on between the two of us Negan.”

“She’s with you,” Joel stressed watching Negan reach out to snatch the Santa hat that was on the nightstand. Putting it on, Negan stretched out his long legs and shrugged.

“I know,” Negan nodded, stroking his fingers over the side of his face. “I am not worried about that.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Joel scoffed, shaking his head and heading over toward the dresser to rest his weight back against it. “Why would you be worried?”

“You’re cranky as fuck,” Negan chuckled, his dimples becoming more prominent when an amused smile tugged at his handsome features. “If it’s gonna make the two of you happy, kiss and make up. I don’t give a fuck.”

“We’re together,” Y/N turned on her heel, pointing from her chest to Negan. “I told Joel that. He knows that I want to be with you.”

“I know you do too,” Negan assured her with a nod, caressing down over the side of his neck. “I however told you that I understand that you love Joel. I fucking get it. I loved and still love Lucille. That shit is never gonna change. We can’t help that in life sometimes we love multiple people. And just because we lost them doesn’t mean we don’t care about them. I won’t get mad at you for having feelings for Joel and if the two of you are gonna kiss, I’d really prefer to be around for it.”

“Now you’re just being a prick,” Joel hissed at Negan, his brow line growing more tense and his glare becoming angry. “It’s not funny.”

“Do I look…” Negan paused realizing that he was smiling, “Yes. I’m smiling, but I’m not trying to be funny here. I know that you heard the conversation earlier about her dream and if she wants to, I’m okay with the three of us…you know.”

“Oh fuck. Not again,” Y/N lifted her hand to cover her eyes trying to shake off the feeling she was having. “I’m dreaming again. That makes complete sense here.”

“Nope. Not dreaming,” Negan stood up from the chair he was seated in. Standing between Y/N and Joel, Negan outstretched his hands grabbing both their wrists to pull them closer toward him. “I just think it’s okay for you two to enjoy each other still even if you’re not together. Your brain wanted this. So who am I to turn away this for you?”

“I think maybe you are reading the situation wrong,” she was unsure of where this was headed with Negan’s nose wrinkling in amusement. “I told you about the dream because I don’t want to keep things from you.”

“And I don’t want to keep things from you either,” Negan promised bringing Joel in closer to her. How firmly Negan was holding onto Joel’s wrist had Joel scoffing. “I’m okay with a threesome. If it makes you happy, why not?”

“Aren’t you going to ask if I’m okay with a threesome?” Joel spoke up in a bit of a disapproving tone making Negan chuckle when he looked between the two of them. “Why is that funny?”

“Nothing, you’re just right. You’re the curve ball here. I understand that she has feelings for you. It doesn’t bother me because I know she cares about me too. Deep in her mind, she wants both of us but feels guilty for wanting that,” Negan explained, letting go of her wrist to palm in over the side of her face to get her to look at him. “You have been with Joel and you’ve been with me. You’ve never had a threesome. What’s better than being pampered by two men that are head over heels in love with you?”

Stammering to find words, Y/N didn’t know what to say. Maybe she should have been mad, but instead she found herself laughing when the top of the Santa hat fell over Negan’s eyes. Blowing it out of his face, Negan gave a big cheesy smile and then dragged his tongue out over his bottom lip.

“As long as Joel promises not to fucking kill me when it’s my turn, I think we’re good,” Negan asserted lowering his hand to gently urge Y/N forward toward Joel. “I don’t have a problem with all of this. Joel is the only person I would be okay with.”

“I don’t get your fucking issue Ne…” Joel’s words came to a halt with the pressure of Negan leading Joel down to Y/N to force the two of them to kiss. A gasp vibrated against his lips and Joel pulled back seeing Negan smirking. Shaking his head, Negan’s thumb swept in over her jaw with his fingers curling around her neck to turn her to him. Claiming her lips in a passionate kiss, Negan started to kiss her over and over again. Watching her eyes close with a slow flutter, Joel felt a bout of jealousy flooding his veins. Starting to kiss at her jawline, Joel pressed his body in closer to hers, his hands settling at her hips.

“Holy shit,” Y/N pulled away from the both of them feeling her pulse hammering in her head. “This is just like my dream. The children are upstairs for fuck’s sake.”

“Then we’ll be quiet,” Negan headed over toward the door to lock it for her. “It’s a big apartment. They are all the way across the apartment on the second floor. We’ll hear someone if they come down here.”

“They both had the television on,” Joel explained to Y/N who was surprised to hear Joel defending this. “They aren’t going to hear anything.”

“Thatta boy,” Negan pat Joel on the shoulders and then headed over toward the bed to drop down on the bottom of it. Pulling himself to the edge, Negan braced his weight on his hands and motioned for the two of them to move toward one another. “I like watching. So go ahead.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N whispered which had an ache growing at the center of Joel’s chest. That was something she was genuinely worried about and she meant it.

“You’re not going to,” Negan promised her, holding out his hand to have her squeeze at it. “I’m here. No matter what happens. I’m not leaving your life. You have me back in your life and that’s not going to change.”

“Are you going to look at me differently?” Y/N turned her head to look at Joel who thought about this whole thing. Being with her in any fashion was good enough for him. It meant that she still cared about him. Still wanted him in her life.

“I could never,” Joel grumbled under his breath knowing that he was going to have to fight his demons here. Especially when she was with Negan. There was a jealousy there, but in this moment he was going to have to figure it out. Get his shit together. There was a lot to consider in the moment. But his first thought was this whole threesome thing. The windows were wide open with no blinds or curtains to hide them. “Do you really want the lights on for this?”

“Fuck yes,” Negan stated with a proud breath. “I want to see everything.”

“You’re in New York City. People know you’re here now. They have to. Photographers with their cameras,” Joel started to ramble having Negan bob his head about. Huffing out, Negan got up from the bed and headed over to the large window side of the room. Pushing his hands into his pants, Negan got the material down to the bottom of his hips along with his boxer briefs. All Joel saw was Negan’s ass, but it was enough for Negan to make a point. Throwing his hands up in the air, Negan wiggled his hips a bit and it had Joel groaning outwardly. “You are still so very much Negan.”

“Yes, I fucking am,” Negan boasted proudly, pulling his pants back up over his hips and turning to face the two of them. Y/N’s face was flushed over with her shaking her head and Joel was staring out at him blankly. “I’m a baseball player. And we are pretty fucking high up. If someone has a lens that fucking good, then good for them. But in the city, there are bigger, better celebrities to go after. No one is going to be taking photos of us at two in the morning having sex. I fucking promise you.”

“How is your dick not all over the internet?” Joel scoffed, pointing down toward Negan’s groin.

“Well, I was married,” Negan reminded Joel, tossing his hand up in the air with a huff. “Pretty sure that Lucille didn’t want a video of us screwing all over the internet. And like I told you, I’m just a fucking baseball player. You want to see their cocks, you walk into the locker room after or before a game. It’s not that hard. You know that. You were on a sports team in high school. You saw a lotta cock.”

“Good God, we are so different,” Joel pointed out to Y/N who now seemed to have amusement with the things that Negan was saying. “How you love the both of us…”

“Is crazy because she’s too good for the both of us, but she does,” Negan interrupted Joel, stepping closer to the both of them. “So why don’t we take advantage of it, enjoy tonight and let this happen? I want this. You both want this. And that’s okay.”

Stepping in behind Y/N, Negan settled his hands at her hips. Nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck had her tipping her head back against his shoulder. Just the sensation of that alone had her pulse jumping in her throat. Peppering wet kisses over her flesh, Negan bit faintly eliciting a moan from her lips.

Lifting his left hand, Negan reached for Joel tugging him forward by the material of his tank top. Stepping in closer, Joel trapped Y/N between both him and Negan having her breath catch in her throat. The heat from their bodies radiated against hers. It felt good. It had her body trembling. She felt small between the two of them.

Sweeping his fingers in over the side of her face, Joel’s eyelids grew heavy. An innocence lingered in her eyes and features. Reminding Joel of when they were younger and they were together for the first time. Lowering down, Joel brought their lips together in a slow, gentle kiss. This was a lot to get used to all at once. With each caress of his lips, the kiss grew stronger with her breathing getting louder.

“That’s it,” Negan slurred against her flesh, grasping her chin firmly between his fingers to get her to turn her head so it brought their lips together. Even though he was okay with sharing, Negan wanted to make it clear that’s what they were going to be doing. Joel could get some of the attention, but not all of it. Focusing on her bottom lip with wet kisses, Negan used his other palm to caress up in over her abdomen toward her breast. A tremoring exhale had him sucking in a sharp breath of air getting excited at how innocent she seemed in all of this. “If you ever get uncomfortable, just tell us and we will stop.”

Nodding gave both Joel and Negan the permission they needed to continue. Even if things felt fast, she knew that she would never ask them to stop. This was something her mind had been thinking about even in her dreams. An occasion where she could be between the two men that she loved without judgement? It felt too good to turn away.

Dropping her left hand back, she palmed in over the side of Negan’s body while her right traced up over the lengths of Joel’s abdomen toward his chest. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, Joel couldn’t help but notice the desire in Negan’s eyes for the woman that was between them. Reaching his hands around Y/N, Joel squeezed firmly over her bottom. It had her pressing up onto her toes, gasping and falling in closer against his chest. It gave Negan the opportunity to move in behind her, pressing his groin in over her bottom. It had her eyes closing tightly, her lips falling agape. It felt like liquid lava was running through her veins with the room spinning around. Hovering his lips in over hers, Joel loved the way her breathing grew louder with her shaking against him. Pressing faint kisses at her lips, Joel allowed his mouth to trail down over her jawline toward her neck. When he reached her shoulder, Joel lifted his head and locked eyes with Negan.

“You know what?” Negan took one step back, his chest rising and falling heavily. It had Y/N looking back over her shoulder at him, worried what was happening. “Go on. I really would like to watch.”

Trying to avoid the instructions that were being spat at him, Joel curled his arm around Y/N’s waist to pull her flush against him. It had her right arm hooking around his shoulders while her fingers from her left hand sank into his thick, dark hair. Just the way she was looking at him with her pupils dilated drove Joel crazy with want for the woman in his arms.

“Touch her Joel,” Negan spoke moving to grab Joel’s wrist helping him to caress up and over the length of her back before down again. Just from that alone it had her eyes closing tightly once more. “Let’s make this thing as sensual as possible. Not just fucking. We could fuck any time. But this? It means something.”

Bringing their lips together in a slow, unhurried kiss had her clinging tighter to Joel. Stroking his fingers down over the lengths of her back again and then allowing them to drag back up over her shoulders had her whimpering against his mouth. Each kiss he pressed over her lips grew stronger, the passion lighting a fiery want inside the both of them. Beside them, Negan stepped forward his hand pressing in against both of the small of their backs bringing their bodies closer together. Growling against Y/N’s flesh triggered her to pull away just slightly to give a tiny smile. Instead of bitching, Joel listened to Negan. Touching her in the ways that he was instructing him. Wanting this whole thing to indeed be special for Y/N. Stealing kiss after kiss from her had her lips parting to Joel. Brushing his tongue out against hers led her to tip up on her toes, eager to be closer to him. Even though they had been together many times, Joel still loved the way that her body reacted to his.

Stepping in behind Y/N again, Negan’s fingers hooked loosely into the bottom of her tank top having her lean back into him. Tugging up the material, Negan stopped at her lower abdomen, using one of his hands to caress his rough fingertips across it. Nuzzling his nose against the side of her neck, Negan nipped faintly at her skin getting tiny whines to fall from her, “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered to a close. Her breaths becoming more desperate which encouraged Joel to help Negan lift the material up under her breasts. Carefully lowering to his knees, Joel’s mouth covered her lower abdomen. Starting at the area just above her belly button. A sharp exhale escaped her throat when Joel tenderly nipped at her flesh. Trailing his kisses down further led to him pampering her skin at the area right below her navel. Grasping tightly to her hips kept her in place. With Negan’s arm hooked around her mid abdomen and Joel grasping to her hips, she wasn’t going anywhere. They had her where they wanted her. Shivers flooded her body, muted moans following with the way Joel was cherishing her abdomen with the warmth of his kisses and with Negan kissing at the side of her neck. Pushing his hand up enough under her tank top, Negan’s fingers cupped at the swell of her breast.

“Here we go,” Negan stammered, urging her arms up so he could pull the material of her tank top from her body to reveal her breasts with a bounce. Joel’s dark eyes watched the movements, the length of his tongue dragging a line up her body. Tossing the material aside, Negan’s arm wrapped around her upper half pulling her back to him. Dragging his hand across both her breasts, Negan buried his nose against the side of her neck again and growled. “You feel good, right?”

Squeezing her breast in his palm, Negan tested the flesh before circling the pad of his thumb in over her nipple. Repeated circular movements had it turning into a tight bud and it made him release an amused rumble as he pinched softly at it.

“So good,” she purred with Negan now kissing at her jawline. Continuing to caress at her breasts elicited her breathing to become broken.

Humming, Negan started to kiss at the side of her neck and back behind her ear. Joel’s kisses started to rise up over the lengths of her abdomen, his facial hair scratching slightly at her body. Wet caresses of Joel’s mouth pressed between the valley of her breasts. It was hard to focus on one thing from either Joel or Negan. Between them, Y/N felt like the world was spinning around her. Matching Joel’s movements, when Joel came up, Negan’s palm pressed down over her abdomen. Sinking his hand beneath the material of her pajama pants had her hips arching up toward Negan’s touch. Crying out, her breathing became labored with the flick of Joel’s tongue at her nipple in tiny, circular motions. Taking the nipple into his mouth, Joel’s suckled faintly at the flesh before teasing it again with his tongue. Instinctively her body arched forward, her hips wanting to meet the touch of Negan’s hand between her thighs and her upper half wanting to continue to be pampered by Joel.

“Let’s get you down on the bed darlin’,” Negan stammered pulling his hand from her pants having her shuddering back against him. A wet sound escaped Joel’s lips with him tipping his head back, pulling his mouth from her breast. The warmth of his breath still lingered over her skin and she knew that she was already a hot mess from this alone.

Helping to lead her over toward the bed, Negan grabbed a hold of her hand squeezing his fingers around hers. Getting her to the bottom of the bed had the backs of her knees hitting the mattress getting her to lower down with Negan standing before her. Helping to lower her body back against the bed, Negan hooked his arms firmly underneath her knees. Pulling her right to the edge of the bed had her gasping, her eyes locking with his. There was something in the way that he was looking at her that caused her heart to pound inside of her chest. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pajama pants, Negan unhurriedly pulled them down her legs. Lifting her hips to help him made Negan smirk, his dimples becoming more prominent when he dropped the material aside. His eyes were drinking her in, while he stood at the bottom of the bed looking over her naked form. Stepping away from the bed, Negan adjusted his gray sweat pants causing her eyes to lower to gaze upon the incredible v line over Negan’s hips. His pants were hanging low, his breathing heavy emphasizing the lines of his body. Just the sight of that alone had her mouth watering.

“Waiting on you Joel,” Negan wiggled his finger, motioning Joel to follow him toward the bed. Laying down beside her on the right, Negan made sure that she was comfortable when his fingertips swept in over the area right below her belly button. Hovering his mouth over hers, Negan snickered when her fingers slid in over the back of his neck and sank into his messy hair. “You are in for a hell of a night.”

Putting one knee on the bed, Joel caught Negan’s attention when Negan stole a kiss from Y/N’s lips. Negan’s hazel eyes watched Joel’s movements as Joel lowered himself down at the left side of Y/N’s body. Drawing circles with his rough fingertips over Y/N’s body, Negan nibbled at her bottom lip. Sucking faintly at the flesh had her whimpering into his mouth.

Bracing himself, Negan leaned in over her body starting to trail kisses from her shoulder toward the center of her chest. Joining Negan, Joel’s palm settled at the inside of her thigh dragging up toward her warmth. Her senses were set ablaze between the both of them. Joel’s brown eyes were hooked on hers drinking her in as she laid between the two of them. Tipping her head back, a quiet moan escaped her parted lips with Negan’s mouth covering her breast. Twisting his tongue around the nipple resulted in her lifting her upper back toward him. Suckling and nipping at the flesh prompted her breath to go broken now with Joel’s hand caressing in over her core.

“Look at me,” Joel ordered in a quiet slur, his eyelids growing heavy with longing. “Do you like being spoiled like this?”

“Yes,” she panted, licking her lips when Joel’s lips claimed hers, kissing her with a hunger that took her breath away. The wet popping sound of Negan’s mouth leaving her breast had her whining, but it was short lasted when he kissed across her chest to the other one to cover her breast with continued heated kisses.

Right now? All Joel could focus on was pleasing her because if he thought deeply about this, there was a chance that he wouldn’t be able to do this.

Circling her clit with his rough fingertips, Joel was slow wanting to build up the pleasure. By the way that she was kissing him, Joel knew that Y/N was doing her best to stay quiet. The sounds she was making and the way she was clinging to him fueled Joel more than he ever expected it to. Putting a stronger pressure over her sensitive bundle of nerves had her hips arching up toward Joel’s caress wanting to meet his touch.

“Good girl,” Negan slurred, his mouth sliding up over the side of her neck to kiss at her jawline. Biting faintly at her chin, Negan got her to turn toward him to bring their lips together in a passionate sweep. Brushing his tongue against hers, Negan felt the bed dipping with Joel adjusting his positioning.

An involuntary whine followed with the loss of contact from Joel’s fingers. Getting on his knees at the bottom of the bed, Joel pushed apart her legs settling himself between her thighs. Squeezing at the fleshy part of her thighs had her tremoring at his touch. As his breath lingered over her sensitive folds, it had her arching up toward him drawing out a hum of approval from Joel’s throat.

“You have always had the prettiest pussy,” Joel whispered, allowing his fingertips to draw a line over the length of her sex. Negan’s large palm was caressing at the swell of her breast, his kisses covering the side of her neck. Lifting her head, she was trying to focus, but her eyelids were growing heavy with the overflow of sensations both of them were causing inside of her. Right now she was a trembling mess beneath the both of them. Licking his lips, Joel’s kisses started at her inner thigh while his finger traced a line down over her sex and back up. Circling her clit and then lowering down again. Purring out, her fingers sank into Negan’s hair at the back of his neck with is mouth taking her breast into it again. Leaving tiny bites at her skin, Joel wet his lips and tipped his head back. Shuffling his body, Joel bent forward dragging the length of his tongue across her entrance.

“Joel,” she cried out, her hips bouncing upward toward the warmth of his mouth. Grasping her face between his thumb and index finger, Negan forced her eyes to meet his and it made him smile. Every muscle in her body was tensing up with the slurping sounds of Joel suckling at her folds. Squirming beneath them, she knew that her natural instinct was to focus on Joel, but Negan wanted to see her reaction to what was happening. Dragging his thumb across her bottom lip elicited a wolfish smile over Negan’s lips.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Negan growled, lowering down enough to hungrily kiss her. His tongue caressing at hers again and again, showing his dominance in the way that he kissed her.

Gazing up, Joel swallowed down hard at the sight of them kissing. There was so much passion and chemistry between the two of them with the way that they kissed. It had jealousy eating away at him with how visible close they clearly were. Pulling away slowly, Negan suckled faintly at her bottom lip, his eyes slowly lowering to hook with Joel’s.

“Get to it pretty boy,” Negan outstretched his hand, curling his finger underneath Joel’s chin. Getting Joel to tip his head back had Joel sucking in a sharp breath of air. “Y’know what? Nah. Let’s build up the longing. You gave her a taste. Make her beg for it. I think there needs to be a build up. Don’t you?”

Muttering something under his breath, Negan pushed himself up on the bed and got off it moving over toward the chair to sit down in it. Staring out at the two of them, Negan took notice of the way Y/N was breathing and she looked desperate to have him back.

“Why don’t the two of you kiss for a while?” Negan suggested, adjusting the Santa hat that he was wearing, palming across the length of his chest. “Then show her what you can do with that mouth Mr. Miller.”

“Negan,” she spoke his name, wiggling her fingers out in hopes to bring him back but before she could Joel was crawling in over her covering her with his weight. It surprised her with him lowering between her thighs listening to Negan’s suggestion. Joel’s arm curled around her waist pulling her in closer to him and it had her gasping out. Stroking her fingers down over the side of his face, she saw that his eyelids were heavy and his pupils were dilated. “You’re okay with this?”

“Yeah,” Joel whispered teasing his lips over hers just barely. It had her eyes fluttering to a close and it made Joel smile. Bringing their lips together, Joel never truly thought they would be able to be close like this again when she turned him down after he admitted his love to her at the school. Negan was right, they were both uncomfortable and needed to loosen up before they could truly be relaxed enough to do something like this. “You want this?”

“I think so,” she nibbled at Joel’s bottom lip, sinking her fingers into Joel’s messy hair getting him to look at her. Was there absolute certainty in her mind that she wanted this? Not exactly, but her mind had dreamt about it so it must have been something that she wanted. “I love both of you.”

With a nod, Joel stole another kiss from her with his fingers sliding down over the side of her neck to caress at her flesh. Trailing her kisses off over his jaw, Joel lifted his head allowing her room to kiss down over his neck. No one knew his body quite like she did. Every kiss was meticulous causing a chill to flood throughout his veins. In the distance, Joel caught the expression that was over Negan’s face while he watched the two of them. There was a lump growing in his throat at the idea of being watched. Why did he like it?

Taking his attention from Negan, Y/N pulled Joel back into a kiss that was nervous. It was delicate, slow. Allowing her to control the kiss at first, Joel knew that it was his job to make her realize that he was okay with this. That she could be comfortable with him here. Deepening the kiss, the caress of Joel’s lips grew more fervent. Hungrier. His hands caressed down over the sides of her body with him trapping her beneath his weight.

“I love you,” Joel whispered against her lips, hovering them just over hers. A shuddering exhale escaped her lips leaving Joel’s head buzzing with the feelings that he was experiencing. “So much.”

Movement was heard and Joel felt the warmth of a hand pressing in over his shoulder, “On your knees.”

Shakily doing as he was told, Joel was careful in the way he got up to his knees over Y/N. Even though he was tense, having Y/N’s eyes on him like she did took his breath away. There was something hypnotic about the way she was breathing while she was beneath him fully naked. The warmth of Negan’s body pressed in behind him. Biting down on his bottom lip, Joel felt Negan tugging at the bottom of Joel’s tank top.

“You’re the one wearing the most,” Negan pointed out, the warmth of his breath lingering over the side of Joel’s neck.

Cussing out, a breath caught in Joel’s throat when the bed dipped. Y/N was pressing up on her hands with Negan unhurriedly pulling the material up his abdomen. Sloppy kisses were being pressed over the flesh that was slowly being revealed to her. Palming in over the back of her head, Joel’s eyes came to a tight close. The warmth of Negan’s breath was at the side of his neck. Between the sensation of that and the way that Y/N was kissing at his flesh, it had Joel shuddering between them.

“Good boy,” Negan rasped, his nose nuzzling in against Joel’s jawline having Joel suck in a sharp breath of air. Reaching Joel’s arms, Negan tugged at the material. “Lift your arms.”

Lazily, Joel did what he was told and let Negan get his shirt from him and toss it onto the floor. Grunting, Negan’s fingers grabbed a tight hold of Joel’s jaw causing him to fall back against Negan’s chest. Doting kisses were still being pressed over his abdomen from Y/N who was now leaving small nibbles at his flesh.

“It doesn’t hurt to listen sometimes, does it?” Negan growled, his large palm sliding across the length of Joel’s chest. A chill flooded down Joel’s spine with the sensation of Negan caressing over his body and down over his abdomen. There was a rush flooding his veins when he felt Negan palm across his chest once more, having his heart skip a beat. “The benefits could be good if you give some orders a chance.”

Confusion flooded his veins with Negan moving away from him realizing that what Negan had done left goosebumps over his arms. Focusing elsewhere, Joel brought his eyes back to Y/N who was tugging at the knot in his pajama pants.

“On your knees sweetheart,” Negan gave her the same order, getting behind her on the bed once again trapping her between the two of them. Caressing his hands up over her sides had her resting her head back against Negan’s shoulder. Voraciously kissing over the side of her neck had Y/N reaching her fingers up to tug at Negan’s hair knocking the Santa hat from his head. “I want the both of you to enjoy this.”

Grasping her jaw in his fingers, Joel brought her lips to his just enough to affectionately kiss her. Flattening his palm out between the valley of her breasts, Joel teased her with his rough fingertips. Surrounding her breast with his palm, Joel tested the flesh in his grasp. A muted cry fell from her lips and it had Negan smiling, his eyelids heavy with want.

“Feel good?” Negan confirmed, his hand curling around the front of her body and sliding between her thighs. Palming in over her mound, Negan was gentle in the way he caressed at her flesh. It had her hips bouncing forward toward his touch. There was already a warmth pooling at her body from what the men had worked her up to earlier.

“Yes,” she panted with Negan’s other hand urging her to turn her head to him enough so he could kiss her. With parted lips, she eagerly allowed the warmth of Negan’s tongue to sweep against hers. Returning the gesture, she sucked faintly at Negan’s tongue eliciting a moan from him.

Starting to kiss down over her shoulder, Joel’s lips covered her breast again. Nibbling, suckling and teasing the flesh with sweeps of his tongue. Negan’s fingers connecting with Y/N’s sensitive bundle of nerves had her purring out in pure ecstasy. The sound that came from her throat drew heat right to Joel’s cock and he groaned against her flesh having her bounce forward toward him.

“You like being pampered, don’t you?” Negan mused, the circular motions of his fingers over her clit growing in strength. Nipping at her jaw had her whimpering out. The warmth of Joel’s hands caressing down over her hips followed, sliding lazily around to her bottom to squeeze the flesh in his grasp. Desperately meeting Joel’s mouth in a wet kiss, she moaned into his mouth in attempts to keep herself quiet. Dragging his lips over her jawline, Negan hummed and smiled. “That’s it.”

With a shuddering breath, Y/N pulled her mouth from Joel’s to drop her forehead against Joel’s shoulder. Dropping his hand down, Negan squeezed at the fleshy part of her thigh while his caress continued over her most intimate parts.

“Closer,” Negan mouthed, his hazel eyes locking with Joel’s. Tipping his head to the side, Joel wondered just how much closer they could all get. Rolling his eyes, Negan lifted his hand that wasn’t between her thighs. Hooking his arm around Joel, Negan got him to move closer having Joel’s naked chest pressed up against hers. Kissing over her earlobe, Negan nipped at the flesh and growled. “Touch him.”

Huffing out, Joel felt the firm smack of Negan’s hand over his ass before Negan’s hand returned to her thigh to squeeze at it. Truthfully? Joel didn’t know how to respond to that, but there wasn’t enough time for him to. Nudging her thighs further apart with his knee, Negan had her gasping out. Shakily bracing her hands over Joel’s abdomen, she listened to Negan palming in over Joel’s chest. Tipping down she kissed at the center of it having Joel tip his head back. There was a fire flooding Joel’s veins with his heart hammering in his chest. Lifting his fingers to his lips, Negan took his own fingers into his mouth. That allowed Joel to take advantage, dropping his hand between her thighs to discover that she was soaked.

“You really do want this, don’t you?” Joel’s voice was deeper, his finger circling her entrance before sinking into her with a wet sound. Unhurried thrusts of his thick digit followed having her biting at his flesh. Inserting another finger, Joel took his time thrusting them inside of her. The slight stretch had her tremoring between them. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Look at you,” Negan’s hand grasped firmly to her jaw, pulling her back against him. Hissing out, she yearned for the touch of Negan’s lips over hers. Claiming her as his while Joel’s mouth was at the side of her neck. Rewarding her with a kiss, Negan sucked tenderly at her tongue pulling away just enough to tease her. “You’re shaking.”

Pressing forward, Negan bucked his hips against her bottom causing her to whine, “You feel that?”

“Yes,” she panted, doing her best to not buckle over in pleasure with what she was feeling. Dropping her hand back behind her, she palmed over the front of Negan’s sweatpants having him moan in her ear. Unhurriedly Negan bucked his hips up against her palm allowing her to stroke over his body through the material to the best of her ability. “Please…”

“What do you want?” Negan snickered, reaching for Joel to pull him forward so he could kiss Y/N to a sweet surrender. Using her other hand, Y/N reached between them to palm over Joel’s groin getting him to grunt against her lips. The vibration of it against her flesh felt incredible. It was hard to keep herself from being loud since she knew the situation that they were in. Deep plunges of Joel’s fingers inside of her had her rocking her hips against the movements wanting to feel more of what he was doing. “See, it’s okay to listen to your dreams sometimes.”

Joel had gone back to kiss her and Negan’s kisses were pressing over her jawline getting closer to her lips. The warmth of Negan’s mouth near his had Joel backing slightly, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when Y/N started to kiss Negan. Boldly leaning forward Joel greedily stole her back for another kiss which had Negan snickering as Negan kissed at the corner of her mouth. Negan’s tongue brushed out against her flesh causing her to whimper. Whether they were meaning to or not, all of their mouths collided in the kiss that they were sharing. Maybe Joel should have pulled back, but it didn’t feel wrong. Their kisses grew in strength, sharing Y/N and their lips colliding on occasion. Their breathing matched, broken and loud.

“Fuck,” Joel groaned. His forehead falling forward against Negan’s when her fingers curled around Joel’s girthy shaft through the material of his thin pajama pants. Instinctively her lips kissed over Joel’s jawline and he felt his heart jumping in his chest with how close he was to Negan in the moment of his vulnerability. Closing his eyes, Joel moaned when Negan dropped his head down, nudging his nose slightly against the other side of Joel’s neck. Wincing, Negan’s lips kissing over the side of Joel’s neck had a rush flooding through Joel’s veins. There was a vast difference between the two. Negan’s short beard scratched at his flesh while they both seemed to have their way with Joel. Quickening the motions of his fingers inside of Y/N had her falling in against his chest and Joel moaned again when he felt the walls of her tight canal clenching around his fingers.

“That’s it,” Negan knew by the sounds she was making that she was about to come. Joining Joel, Negan’s fingers circled her clitoris until she was a shaking mess between the both of them with the two working together to bring her to her first orgasm. “Good girl.”

Licking his lips, Joel didn’t know how to feel about what was happening. When he thought he was having a threesome with Y/N he didn’t think him nor Negan would be getting anywhere near one another but they might as well have kissed several times with how they were both kissing Y/N. Plus, there was that moment Negan kissed his neck. The bad thing is that Joel didn’t hate it, but his brain kept telling him that he should have.

“Get on your hands and knees at the center of the bed sweetheart,” Negan playfully smacked her ass having her whimper. Tremors still filled her body and Negan helped adjust her the way he wanted with her head at the bottom of the bed near Joel. Grabbing the Santa hat that was on the bed, Negan put it back on, adjusting it quickly before moving in behind Y/N. Caressing over her hips, Negan smirked and bobbed his head arrogantly.

“Are you going to wear that stupid hat still?” Joel stammered, caressing over Y/N’s shoulders when she went back to kissing over his lower abdomen.

“Fuck yeah I am,” Negan snickered, his chest rising and falling with his breathing growing heavier. “I’m fucking Santa Claus tonight and I’m delivering presents. So why the fuck not?”

Rolling his eyes, Joel cleared his throat when Negan palmed in over the front of his gray sweatpants drawing attention to the tent in them, “And now, I’m gonna give myself a gift and eat out this beautiful pussy.”

Excitement flooded her body when Negan got comfortable behind her squeezing and caressing at her fleshy bottom. Groaning out, Joel’s head dropped back when she started stroking at his erection through the material of his pajama pants again. Dropping his head, Joel swept his hand in over her face to keep the hair out of her eyes with her fingers hooking into the waistband of Joel’s pants. Taking them down with his boxers had the material pooling at Joel’s ankles.

Groaning out, Joel’s cock bounced in her face with her fingers swiftly curling around his girthy cock. Strokes of her hand over his flesh, teased the skin back and forth over his sensitive tip. Joel’s brow line creased when she pulled the flesh back so she could take him between her wet lips. Rolling his eyes back, Joel hissed out and licked his lips.

The damp heat around his rigid length felt amazing with her dedicated strokes of her tongue over the ridges of the tip, “Fuck…”

With a smirk, Negan pressed forward to start kissing at the back of Y/N’s thighs. Adjusting her legs, Negan pushed at her cheeks so he could get a better look at her tight hole. Dragging his tongue along the length of her sex had her crying out which had Joel’s hands tremoring while he stroked his fingers at her scalp.

Moaning against her flesh had her whimpering again and that’s when Negan started lapping at her body. His tongue prodding and flicking at her entrance, his fingers connecting with her clitoris to tease over her already sensitive clit. Doing her best to stay steady on her hand that was bracing her weight, Y/N continued to give Joel a blowjob finding it hard to focus with the way that Negan was pleasuring her.

Slurping, wet sounds came from both her and Negan while they pleasured the person before them. Wincing out, Joel sank his fingers tighter into her hair with her pulling her mouth away when Negan started plunging his fingers into her. Pumping them into her, Negan licked his wet lips and cussed out.

“You have the prettiest pussy,” Negan complimented her with a hum, dropping forward to flick his tongue against her hole again. His eyes closing tightly to focus on the sounds she was making when he did it. Feasting on her body had her rocking back against his movements with her hand still caressing over Joel’s saliva covered cock. “Fuck…”

“My turn,” Joel suggested stepping away from Y/N. Leaning back on his knees, Negan wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Giving a single nod, Negan got up from the bed. Laying down on the bed, Joel urged her to crawl in over his shoulders with her hands balancing herself on the bed. Hooking his arms around her thighs brought her down closer to him so he could suckle at her clit eliciting another cry from her. Hooking his arms in place made sure that she couldn’t move much while he had his way with her.

Varying between using his tongue and his mouth, Joel hungrily pleasured her finding himself fueled with the way that she was trying so hard to be quiet, but she wasn’t doing a very good job with it. Her thighs were tremoring in his grasp, her hips rocking against his movements. Having both Joel and Negan worshiping her body like this was not something she was expecting. It had her on cloud nine, her body hot and shaking.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Negan grasped her jaw between his thumb and index finger. Tipping her head back, he gave her a big wolfish smile. Leaning down, Negan captured her lips in another kiss that took her breath away with each caress of his lips over hers. Sweeping his thumb across her wet bottom lip when their kiss broke apart had Negan snickering. Dragging his fingers down over the side of her neck, he reached down to pinch at her hard nipple inducing a whine from her. Using his free hand, Negan pushed at the front of his sweatpants and black boxer briefs. Lazily pulling at the material had his cock springing free from the restrictive material when he just got the material right below the base of his cock. Firmly curling his fingers around his lengthy cock, Negan stepped before her with her wetting her lips at the sight of it. “Come here beautiful.”

Allowing Negan to bring her closer to him, she happily accepted him into her mouth with him cautiously thrusting his hips back and forth to sink his body into her throat. Taking his time to make sure that she was comfortable with the motions. Having Joel’s head buried between her thighs and Negan’s cock in her mouth was nothing she ever expected to have, but she liked it. And it fueled her to both pleasure Negan and rock her hips against Joel’s mouth. A raspy moan escaped Negan’s throat, with him caressing over her back. Squeezing at Negan’s hips, she pulled his pants and boxer briefs just under his ass. Cupping his testicles tenderly, she slurped and lapped at his body with her tongue having his hisses growing more frequent.

Cussing out in pleasure, Negan felt her fingers sinking into his hips when Joel got her to moan against his flesh. Twitching, Negan bit at his bottom lip and hummed. Her hands swept around to Negan’s ass to squeeze at his small bottom.

“Joel,” she forced herself away from Negan’s cock, crying out with the way Joel was feasting on her body. Her lips were wet, leaving a line of spit from the tip of Negan’s cock to her mouth. “Christ. You never…”

Closing her eyes shut tightly, her body trembled at what Joel was doing. As of their last few sex sessions, he wasn’t usually this focused on pleasuring her and it had her feeling euphoric from what he was doing, “Ah, well now he has something to prove…”

Joel was relentless with his motions sending waves of pleasure throughout her entire body. Dropping her head against Negan’s lower abdomen had an amused rumble escaping his throat. There was the wet sound of Joel sucking at her throbbing clit before sweeping his tongue around it. His thick fingers were plunging into her body, matching the motions of his tongue. Euphoria was spreading out through her body from her fingers to her toes, her face burying against Negan’s naked hip while he stroked his fingers over the back of her neck.

Dropping his head back on the bed, Joel’s lips were wet with his dark eyes full of lust and want for the woman over him, “Hook your arms around me.”

Listening to Negan, she gasped when he easily pulled her up from Joel and laid her down beside Joel. Pushing open her thighs, Negan laid between them. Curling his arm around one of them, he pushed at her other thigh allowing her to open herself up to him. Bracing his left arm across her lower abdomen locked her in place. Stroking his fingers from her clit to her entrance and then back again had her hips arching upwards.

A rumble of an amused sound fell from Negan and Joel rolled onto his side to caress over the lengths of her abdomen with is mouth surrounding her breast again, “You wanna show Joel our new trick?”

A wicked smirk pulled at Negan’s handsome features, rubbing his cheek against the inside of her thighs. The rough sensation of his short beard pressing over her skin had her hips arching up toward him. Circling his fingers around her entrance, Negan lowered his mouth down to start circling his tongue over her clit. Taking his time to press his fingers into her had her whimpering. Closing his eyes, Negan seemed to genuinely enjoy pleasuring her with his mouth suctioning at her flesh. Thrusting his fingers just the right way had Negan hitting her g-spot like he had done before having a fire growing at the pit of her belly. After two orgasms? Everything was sensitive. And she didn’t know how she’d make it through the sex part if this was how they kept up at everything.

The weight of the bed adjusted with Joel moving around to the bottom of the bed with Negan. Peppering kisses over her lower abdomen, Joel surprisingly enjoyed the wet sounds that Negan’s fingers were making inside of her with her hips rocking up toward him.

“You wanna share?” Negan slurred, pulling his mouth away from her body. Not allowing Joel an answer, Negan sank his fingers into Joel’s hair to pull him closer to her core. Pressing wet, hot kisses against her clit while Negan’s fingers continued to firmly thrust into her had her cooing out. Taking turns, they would both lap at her body with their tongues and sucking at her sensitive folds. Lifting his head while Joel was pleasuring her, Negan took notice of her body shaking, her fingers curled tightly around the comforter so much so that her knuckles were turning white. “Almost there baby.”

Shudders filled her entire body with her reaching for a pillow to cover her face to muffle her cries when Negan’s fingers were forced from her body when he got her to squirt. Moaning out himself, Negan felt an incredible ache at his cock. Joel’s eyes seemed surprised with his hand stroking down over his chest.

Getting up on his knees, Joel pulled her hips closer to him, his fingers pressing into her swiftly thrusting them inside of her having her arching up toward him with her still shaking. Hitting the same spots that Negan had been prodding away at had her rocking her hips against his fingers. Joel was determined, his breathing loud.

“A little bit more,” Negan trailed his fingers down between her breasts over her lower abdomen and then back again. Hissing out, Joel felt his cock twitch when the wet sound of another orgasm flooding from her body was felt. “Hot, right? We only recently just learned she was capable of this.”

“Fuck me,” she felt like the room was spinning around her with her pulling the pillow from her face. How her heart was pounding in her chest had her breathless and she shook her head. “Are you two trying to kill me? Do you not want me around tomorrow or…?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Negan hushed her with an amused expression when Joel laid in over her, bracing himself on his left hand. Stroking over his cock with his right, Joel teased the swollen tip over her clitoris having her whimper. Lowering down beside Y/N Negan stroked his fingers over her jawline getting her to look at him. “I want to see the look on your face when he enters you.”

Quickly kissing her, Negan looked down to watch Joel line his rigid cock up with her seeping entrance. With a smack forward of Joel’s hips, it had her head tipping back with her eyes still locked on Negan’s. Clicking his tongue at the top of his mouth, Negan let out an amused rumble of a sound with Joel lowering in over her. Hooking his arm under her shoulders, Joel brought her closer to him with his head burying against the side of her neck that Negan wasn’t at.

The bed squeaked with the thrusts Joel was making inside of her, her winces filling the air. Leaning across, Negan’s mouth covered hers with his tongue brushing against hers. Humming when he pulled away, Negan got up to his knees and his hand settled in over Joel’s lower back.

“Slow it down,” Negan instructed causing Joel to grunt and look back over his shoulder at Negan. “Draw it out. Deep plunges.”

“I know how to have sex Negan,” Joel suggested with Negan dramatically bobbing his head about.

“I agree. I know you do. But we wanna drag this out. You’re gonna wear her out and she’s right. We’re gonna dehydrate her and she’s gonna be face down sleeping in this bed tomorrow. Let’s go for a more sensual experience instead of fucking,” Negan explained, his hazel eyes locked with Joel’s dark eyes. Sliding his palm in over Joel’s ass, Negan squeezed just at the bottom of it getting Joel to flex his hips up. “Slow pull back.”

Guiding Joel’s thrusts had Joel lowering his forehead against Y/N’s with her arms hooking around Joel’s shoulders. Strangely enough Joel liked the way Negan caressed over his back while his body moved over hers.

“Thatta boy,” Negan stood from the bed watching the two of them closely. Kicking out of his pants, Negan stroked at his swollen cock. “Don’t be greedy Joel. You gotta learn to share.”

Biting back the smart remark that he wanted to make, Joel pulled his hips away from her and laid in beside her. An indescribable ache overwhelmed her with the empty feeling. Wincing, Joel felt his cock resting against his lower abdomen and loosely wrapped his fingers around it to stroke over it slightly.

“Alright beautiful,” Negan breathed, crawling in over her and bracing his weight over his palms. The top of the Santa hat fell in over his eyes again making Negan laugh. Blowing, he tried to get it out of his face, but Y/N reached up to pull it from his head revealing the messy hair beneath. “Making things less festive…”

Getting comfortable between her thighs, Negan urged her to wrap her legs around his waist, “Hook your ankles…”

Doing as she was told, a shuddering breath fell from her throat with the closeness of Negan pressing in over her bracing his weight on his left hand. Leading his manhood to her entrance, Negan took his time sinking into her with his hazel eyes locked on hers. Parting her lips, she did her best to keep her eyes locked on his. Palming in over the side of her face, Negan’s hips would push forward before pulling back almost to the tip before forward again. It was incredibly deep penetration having her whimpering with every thrust he made. Their eyes were locked with them focused solely on one another with Negan stealing small kisses.

“Negan,” she cooed out, her hands palming up and over the lengths of his chest having him moaning with his movements.

Pulling himself up into a seated position, Joel cleared his throat noticing how desperate she was to have Negan close. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t see the bond between the two of them, “We need better sharing positions…”

An amused rumble fell from Negan with him nodding. Giving her a quick kiss, Negan got to his knees dragging his cock from her tight canal with a grunt. It allowed her to shakily sit up reaching out to stroke both her hands over their cocks. Urging them forward had the two of them close with her dropping down to take Joel’s cock into her mouth before going to Negan’s. Switching between the both of them had Joel bracing some of his weight against Negan.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned, his head burying against Negan’s shoulder. Biting at the flesh had Negan hissing out, his back arching with his chest pushing out closer to Joel. Negan lowered his head pressing faint kisses at Joel’s jawline. Closing his eyes, Joel tipped his head back enjoying the way it felt. Breathlessly, Joel placed his hand in over the center of Negan’s chest. How did this keep happening? Knowing that it should have been Y/N they were focusing on, Joel turned his body. Sitting down at the top of the bed, Joel braced his back against the headboard. Wiggling his fingers to direct her to him, Joel helped her lower herself down over his length after she crawled in over him with his hand settling at her lower back. “You feel so good.”

Beyond Y/N, Negan stayed there as if considering what Joel had just done, his eyebrow arching in amusement. Nodding his head, Negan moved on the bed getting on his knees behind Y/N. Palming in over her breasts while she rocked her hips over Joel had her breathing loud.

“Do you like the way he feels inside of you?” Negan slurred, pressing kisses against the side of her face. Grasping firmly to her hips, Negan helped her bounce her hips over Joel’s length, biting at her jawline. Joel’s eyebrows were furrowed locked on the movements that her body was making over his. Bracing his left hand against the headboard beside Joel’s head, Negan pulled her hips up from Joel’s length having Joel’s cock hit his stomach with a smack. Leading himself back into her, Negan started rolling his hips from behind her having her breasts bounce in Joel’s face. The warmth of her surrounding him felt incredible with Negan nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck. The soft smacks of his balls smacking up against her clit had her purring out. “Do you like daddy inside of you?”

Hearing Negan call himself daddy had Joel smirking and he lifted up to start kissing in over the side of Y/N’s neck. Now it felt like a competition again. Of which one was better. Y/N’s head was tipped back against Negan’s shoulder in euphoria. Flexing his bicep around her waist, Joel pulled her from Negan and led her back over him. Guiding her down to fill herself completely had her whimpering out, bracing her hands against Joel’s chest while Negan continued to kiss at the side of her neck.

Meeting her with his thrusts upward with every roll of her hips had her panting out Joel’s name. Licking her lips with her eyes closed, she hooked her arm around her to jerk Negan off. Having Negan’s lips parting, his moans muted against the side of her neck.

“Do you feel good?” Joel breathed knowing that he was letting himself get fired up. Negan didn’t see this as a competition. God he was so fucking stupid. This was supposed to be them focusing on her and by the sounds she was making it was clear she was loving this. Not seeing or believing there was anything wrong between them because Joel promised her it would be fine.

“So good,” she responded in a faint moan with her trying to hold back her cries. They both were so different that it brought forth a contrasting sensation each time they switched.

“You wanna come?” Negan growled, his fingers dropping between her thighs to circle her clit allowing the right amount of friction with her grinding against his fingers with every upward movement she made over Joel’s thick cock. Between the both of them she was a hot mess. They were stretching her and filling her in the ways only they could drawing everything out. “Go on baby…come around Joel’s cock.”

Loud pants fell from her throat with her hips tremoring over Joel’s. The contractions of her tight walls clamping to his cock from her orgasm had Joel’s head resting against the center of her chest. His moans were faint and he wasn’t quite as verbal as Negan, but as he nuzzled his nose against her chest he felt like this was the closest they’d been in a long time.

“Come here,” Negan hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her from Joel again with her back against his chest. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Negan let her sit in his lap for a moment bracing her hands against his thighs. Smacking faintly at her bottom, Negan got her to lift her hips up and slowly lower herself down over his cock having her whine when he filled her completely. “Take your time. Catch your breath. I just like the way it feels being inside of you.”

Sitting up, Joel urged Y/N’s face to turn toward him with him curling his finger underneath her chin. Having her weakly kiss him back made him wonder if they were truly going to wear her out for tomorrow. This was about making her feel good and they were doing just that.

Placing her feet on the ground, she grasped tightly to Negan’s thighs starting to rock herself back against Negan before forward. It drew only a small amount of his cock out of her, but it felt good. They both left her with addictive ache that she wasn’t ready to lose. Once Negan filled her fully again, she circled her hips over his in a circular motion. It had Negan’s eyelids growing heavy, his lips parting to allow the inexplicable moan that wanted to escape his lips out.

“Nothing feels better than being inside of you,” Negan alerted her, nuzzling his nose against the back of her neck. Suddenly feeling left out again, Joel smirked and curled his fingers around Negan’s neck, pulling him down to the bed. Wincing, Negan stared up at Joel with Joel’s thumb pressing over the fleshy part of Negan’s throat. Loud smacks were filling the air with her now bouncing steadily back and then forward over Negan’s cock. They both looked watching Negan’s cock disappearing into her time and time again. Her arousal coating the length of it.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Joel mouthed, his dark eyes locked on Negan’s. An amused breath fell from Negan’s throat followed by a moan. Trying to look up, Negan wanted to continue to watch Y/N’s movements over his body but Joel kept him down. “She sure does know how to ride your cock, doesn’t she? Gets drunk off of it. Like nothing feels better than you being inside of her.”

“You’d know,” Negan commented, his breathing labored with his eyes coming to a tight close with how good it felt with Y/N doing what she was. Using his body in the ways that felt good to her. Speaking quietly, Negan sucked in a sharp breath with Joel’s grasp around his throat tightening. “Either kiss me or kick my ass because you wanna do one of the two.”

“Fuck you Negan,” Joel growled lifting his hand from Negan’s throat to smack at the side of Negan’s face. Shock flooded Negan’s eyes with his breathing intensifying.

“You little shit,” Negan lifted up, stealing an angry kiss from Joel’s lips. Part of Joel wanted to pull away, but he didn’t. Instead he kissed Negan back, with the two of them fighting for dominance over the kiss. It was a foreign sensation, with Negan moaning against his mouth. Negan’s lips parted and instinctively Joel teased his tongue in against Negan’s who eagerly sucked faintly at it. Moaning, Joel felt an ache at his cock realizing this was turning out to be vastly different than he originally thought it was going to be. Unhurriedly, he pulled back nipping at Negan’s bottom lip with the movement. Humming, Joel dragged his thumb out across Negan’s bottom lip and shook his head. Patting Negan on the side of the face, Joel smirked and then lifted up to reach for Y/N. Pulling her from Negan’s cock had her whining. She had built a confident, steady pace attempting to reach a moment of bliss for the both of them, but Joel stole that from her.

Urging her back up onto the bed. Joel got her onto her knees and moved in behind her. Entering her in a fluid movement, Joel’s head tipped back and his throat flexed with slow, steady movements. It had her bouncing forward with every thrust. Negan was still laid stretched out across the bed in front of her. His cock twitching while it rest against his lower abdomen. “Fuck me.”

Stretching out his lengthy body, Negan felt Y/N lowering down enough to kiss over his abdomen while Joel’s thrusts continued behind her, “You okay?”

“Peachy,” Negan licked his lips, snatching the Santa hat that she had pulled off him earlier putting it back on. Stroking over her face, Negan cherished her features lifting up to steal a few kisses from her. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“Mmm…I love you too,” she hummed, sucking tenderly at his bottom lip. Closing her eyes, she lowered her upper half resting it over Negan’s chest, her fingers curling around Negan’s manhood caressing over it slowly. Pressing her down, Joel’s hips smacked up against her bottom, his winces filling the air with his movements.

Reaching around with her free hand, Y/N urged Joel’s hips to smack up against her harder. Turning her head, her mouth met Joel’s lips with his tongue brushing out against hers. Instead of saying anything, his breathing grew more broken, his hand shakily reaching out to grab a hold of Negan’s. Burying his nose against the side of her neck, Joel released a faint moan, his hips slowing down but growing in strength. Closing her eyes, she winced with every thrust feeling the throbbing of Joel inside of her. With a final grunt, Joel nipped at her chin with his eyes slamming shut.

“Thatta boy,” Negan rumbled patting Joel on the side of the face. Carefully drawing his hips back, Joel grunted when his cock pulled from her warmth. Tipping his head down, he watched some of his come dripping from her body and smirked. Feeling his body aching as well, Negan got up to his feet at the bottom of the bed. Working carefully, he turned her onto her back pulling her right to the edge. Getting on his knees, he grabbed a hold of one of her thighs, pushing her legs open just enough to lead his aching cock back into her. “How do you feel? Good?”

“Yes,” she panted with Joel sliding in beside her to caress over the lengths of her abdomen, squeezing and palming at her breasts as they bounced with Negan’s thrusts.

“That’s exactly what we wanted,” Negan slurred with a weak smile, plunging his cock into her. The bed was squeaking with the thrusts he was making, his head tipping back showing that the prominent vein at the side of his neck was bulging. Having Negan moaning like he was drew a fire through her veins again. Being the reason for a man to make those sounds was amazing. Lowering down in over her, Negan curled his hand around the back of her neck to get her to lift her head up so she could kiss him. Humming against her lips, Negan’s thrusts started to grow stronger with her cries getting louder. “I just want you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Negan,” she palmed up over Negan’s chest, her fingers teasing through the dark curls of hair that covered his skin. Tipping her head back allowed Joel the room to kiss her again. Stretching his arm around, Joel’s fingers curled around the back of Negan’s thigh urging him to move faster.

“Fuck,” Negan bit down on his bottom lip, pressing in closer to her wanting to make this more personal with the ending. A small nudge of Joel’s nose against the side of Negan’s face drew him to turn his head toward Joel. This time Joel’s lips claimed his with her moan following as Negan’s thrusts grew stronger with the swollen tip of his cock hitting her in all the right places. Parting his lips, Negan allowed Joel’s tongue to brush against his once. They all shared kisses with Negan’s moans growing raspier. Negan’s hips started to falter, his forehead pressing to hers when the first line of his come filled her. Again and again he smacked up against her having her clinging to him, her whispered praises being pressed against his ear.

“Keep going,” she pled clinging tightly to him when his thrusts quickened, her hips eagerly rocking up to meet his movements. With a final cry, her nails dug into Negan’s shoulders, his eyes rolling back when he pulled his body from hers with a wet sound. Dropping at the other side of her, they all laid there staring up at the ceiling trying to catch their breath.

“That was…” Joel finally broke the silence lowering his hand to hook his fingers with hers. “Highly unexpected.”

With a laugh, Negan rolled onto his side and loosely wrapped his arm around Y/N’s body. Nuzzling his nose against the side of her neck, Negan deposited loving kisses over her jawline and sighed, “But very nice.”

“I’m just going to be feeling it for days,” she alerted them, her breathing still labored. Turning on his side too, Joel caressed over her inner thigh, his kisses pressing in over her shoulder. The ache was strong, but one she quite liked. Lifting her head, she felt the warmth of their release spilling from her body and she licked her lips. “I’m going to need some Gatorade.”

Snorting, Negan couldn’t help but laugh causing the other two to laugh as well, “We need to clean you up.”

“Hey,” Joel called out, snatching Negan’s wrist firmly with his fingers before Negan could get up from the bed. “Why waste tissue when you can use your mouth?”

“Joel,” she breathed out his name catching the smirk that Negan gave. With a half nod, Negan lowered himself back between her thighs again having her exhaling loudly. Placing her thigh over his shoulder, Negan tenderly pressed two fingers back inside of her coating the walls of her spent body with their release. Lazily dragging them out from inside of her, Negan lifted his fingers and saw Joel eyeing them over.

“You first,” Negan looked to his fingers that were coated in their fluids, a wicked expression flooding his features. Joel’s dark eyes narrowed, but instead of backing down he lifted up to drag his tongue over the length of Negan’s fingers. Taking Negan’s fingers into his mouth, Joel sucked them clean and heard Negan’s moan follow.

A cry fell from her lips when Negan’s head lowered between her thighs with Negan’s mouth and tongue lapping at her body. Involuntarily her body shook against him. Everything was sensitive, but she couldn’t deny that it still felt good. Negan was doing just as he was instructed by Joel and her eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“You crazy son of a bitch,” Joel hooked his fingers into Negan’s hair pulling his head up. Tugging him up, Joel dragged his tongue out over Negan’s lips. A loud exhale fell from Y/N’s throat, a weak smile forming at her lips. Over and over again Joel kissed Negan tasting himself along with the others on his mouth.

“Goddamn,” she blurt out having Joel pull his mouth from Negan’s with a wet sound.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Negan scoffed with a laugh, lowering his head enough to nip at the flesh right below her navel.

“Oh, I’m all for it. I’m just waiting to wake up now,” she brushed her fingers through Negan’s wet hair. “I always thought the two of you might have had something going on when we were younger, but…”

“We never did anything,” Joel spoke up firmly having both Negan and Y/N look at him with an odd expression when he interrupted her thought process. “I’m…straight.”

“Right, me too,” Negan snickered, his right eyebrow arching in amusement. The tone of his voice was layered with sarcasm. Giving Joel a wink, Negan started to pull himself up from the bed. “Whatever you say buddy.”

“We just got lost in a moment,” Joel reasoned, feeling a sense of panic flooding his veins. “I don’t sleep with men. I haven’t.”

“Hey,” Y/N hushed Joel, outstretching her hand to palm in over the side of his face. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. It was hot. And you both clearly liked it.”

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get something to clean up,” Negan dipped in to press a lingering kiss over Y/N’s lips. Brushing his tongue against hers had her purring out. The taste of their arousal still lingered over Negan’s lips and it made her moan.

Heading to the bathroom left Joel alone with Y/N. Pulling himself up into a seated position, Joel looked toward the bathroom and cleared his throat, “It’s okay Joel. We all enjoyed each other. That’s all that matters.”

“I just haven’t…” Joel tried to defend himself again and she silenced him, sweeping her thumb across his bottom lip.

“We’re all close. It was a passionate moment and it’s okay. I’m happy that we all shared that together. It made me happy.”

“You’re not gonna look at me different?” Joel spoke almost in a whisper, his southern accent growing deeper.

“Are you going to look at me different?” she repeated the question with Joel shaking his head slowly. “Then of course not.”

“I uh…” Joel brushed his messy hair out of his face and nodded toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

Getting up to his feet, Joel gave her a wink and left her to herself laying at the center of the bed. Truly, she looked happy. It was a first for her and he knew that. Being between two men? That was something completely different and she seemed to be living off the high from it all.

“Hey,” Joel spoke quietly, closing the door somewhat behind him when he entered the bathroom. At the sink, Negan lifted his head and his eyes met Joel’s in the mirror. “I uh…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Negan shook his head, washing up and reaching for a few things. “I know you’re supposed to hate me so after tonight you’re gonna go back to your old self. Don’t let my queer brain make your straight one feel uncomfortable.”

“You’re the first guy I kissed,” Joel stammered with Negan going to walk back out to the bedroom. “Okay? I’ve only been with women. This is…weird for me.”

“It’s normal Joel. People have sex. Sex feels good,” Negan stepped forward, his hazel eyes looking down upon Joel as if trying to read him. “And that’s what just happened. We did what felt good. No labels. No dumb shit. Fuck, it was just three people aiming to feel good. Don’t make it more than it is.”

Silence followed. Negan waited for Joel to say something, but when he didn’t, Negan just chuckled to himself and shook his head. Moving around Joel, Negan went to head back into the bedroom.

“Get over here you little shit,” Joel hissed pulling Negan back, having him stumbling back to him. Taking advantage of the taller, skinnier man before him, Joel grabbed a firm hold of Negan by the jaw. His other hand wrapped around Negan’s middle. Forcing him to look in the mirror, Joel shook his head. Pressing himself against Negan’s back, Joel could hear Negan’s breathing loud. “I’m in love with her.”

“And so am I,” Negan stressed wincing when Joel nuzzled his nose in against the side of Negan’s neck. Closing his eyes, Negan sucked in a sharp breath of air with Joel kissing at his skin. Tiny bites were placed over the area and it had Negan moaning. “Just because you love her doesn’t mean you can’t want someone to pound your tight ass.”

“I think you’re confusing yourself with me,” Joel’s hips bucked up against Negan drawing Negan to hiss out firmly. “If anyone was going to fuck someone in the ass, I reckon it would be me. I’m the alpha between the two of us.”

“You scream bottom Joel Miller,” Negan was quick to reverse the hold that Joel had on him. Forcing Joel face down on the counter of the bathroom had Joel grunting out. Palming down over Joel’s back, Negan took his time to squeeze at Joel’s fleshy bottom. “The man who has to be in control of everything, all the time. You’re screaming for someone to take that control from you.”

“We know you’re the one desperate to put my dick in your mouth,” Joel slurred eliciting a laugh from Negan who nodded.

“Well, I guess I’m the dick sucker and the butt fucker in the situation,” Negan released Joel allowing him to stand up. Heading for the door, he stopped and shrugged his shoulders. “This is hypothetically speaking of course.”

Leaving him alone in the bathroom had Joel’s heart pounding away inside of his chest. Was that flirting between the two of them? Let alone, how could he even respond to what happened between them tonight. He did hate Negan. And part of him did have negative feelings toward Negan. Did this all really happen just because of a heat of the moment kind of thing?

Gathering himself, he counted down from a number and then headed back into the bedroom. By now Negan and Y/N were laying at the center of the bed. The light was turned off and the only light filtering through was from the outside. Negan had finally taken off that silly fucking hat and Y/N was drawing circles over his chest while they whispered about something.

“Do you want me to leave?” Joel wondered swallowing down hard with Y/N shaking her head. Extending her hand out toward Joel, she grasped his fingers in hers and led him to lay back down. Cuddling his head in at the back of her neck, Joel deposited a kiss and appreciated her allowing him to hold her.

A lot of thoughts were running wild through Joel’s head as he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. What did this mean for them? What did the future hold for their relationship? And so many other things. Even though he was comfortable and the most at ease he had been in a long time, he couldn’t sleep.

“Joel?” Y/N whispered after what felt like a very long time after they had laid down to sleep. “Are you awake?”

“Uh huh,” Joel was quiet, lifting his head to see that Negan’s chest was rising and falling showing that he was asleep.

“Did you slap Negan when I had my back turned?” she looked over her shoulder at Joel who gave a sheepish smile.

“I did,” Joel didn’t lie, his eyebrows bouncing up when she let out a laugh.

“I thought so,” she snickered, pulling his hand up to press a kiss over the back of it. “Smooth Mr. Miller. Very smooth.”

“I’ve wanted to smack that man for a very long time,” Joel admitted, pressing a lingering kiss against her temple. “This was just the first time I took advantage of it.”

Another quiet chuckle was heard from her with him cuddling back in from behind her. Wrapping her up in his arms, Joel wondered if this whole threesome thing would be doable. More than anything he had a lot of questions. And hopefully they would all be answered very soon. Just right now, he was going to enjoy feeling good for the first time in a very long time.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

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