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ab4eva · 8 months ago

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‘The Three of Us’

Fully co-authored with: @precious-little-scoundrel

Thanks to: My incomparable co-author & sweetheart Marina, for being willing to follow this rabbit hole with me and explore this little trio! And for the gorgeous mood board and vibes, I’m obsessed. And to Ashley, for being the best damn cheerleader we could ask for. ♥️

Warnings: All the sex, 18+ only

Word count: 8k

Sometimes in Hollywood, magic happens behind the scenes - in a dark corner of Bar Lubitsch or a little poolside bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. Things that are only whispered about in certain circles or sent to Deuxmoi with the stipulation of “anon please.” The blurry flash of a hand, littered with telltale rings, on her Instagram story. The paparazzi photos of a drunken night out before the three of them disappeared into the balmy Los Angeles evening. The fandom set ablaze by rumors as they combed over every sign, every possibility, every look that they took for god’s honest truth. A myth in the making, never confirmed, never denied.

When a ballsy journalist had the gumption to ask Callum about the rumors some months down the road, he just grinned his Cheshire smile and shook his head, the slightest blush hinting at the corners of his already ruddy cheeks.

“Nah, mate, can’t believe everyfing you read in Hollywood, can ya.” A statement, no trace of question in his ice blue eyes as he licked his cherry lips and stared the journalist down, daring them to dig deeper. His heart may have started pounding a little too hard but only he knew that. Nothing belied the steely gaze he turned on the journalist - not a flex in his jaw or a slight blink or the whisper of a breath. Needless to say, that journalist had no desire to go toe-to-toe with all six feet two inches of Chelsea’s finest lad. They let the subject drop, though the air had already been sucked out of the tiny interview room. Callum noted with suppressed glee the way the journalist shifted in their seat uncomfortably, trying to regain the upper hand.

Serves ya right, ya wanker, floated through Cal’s head and it took all his energy to focus his thoughts on the next question being asked of him. Now that the taboo subject had been brought up, he couldn’t keep his mind from drifting back towards that fateful night, like the breach in a ship’s hull the memories flooded in. The soft give of her flesh beneath his fingers as he dug them into her hips, needing her closer, closer. The salty taste of Austin’s skin on his tongue as he dragged it slowly across his friend’s collarbone, the streak of wetness left behind shimmering in the moonlight. The mingled sighs and shared breaths, overpowering and heady in that dark little bungalow. That was the night he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. It didn’t matter how many books he read or women he kissed or bloody hikes he took in Runyon Canyon, he was always going back to the night when everything changed.

“Didn’t I see you at the Luchino Visconti retrospective a couple nights ago? At the Academy?” The very definition of tall, dark and handsome has just walked in the room, smiling down at you and waiting expectantly for your answer. This is Callum Turner, the new client you’re working with for Masters of the Air press (alongside Austin Butler, your regular client and current boyfriend-adjacent…guy. It’s casual, you’re both keeping it casual. For now.).

“Oh! Were you there? Wasn’t it amazing?” you gush, a little flustered.

“It’s kind of rare to meet another Visconti fan. You must be one of the good ones.” He grins at you, all warmth and puppy dog eagerness. A kindred spirit, an instant connection. You would be very charmed by him, if you weren’t already attached to someone else. Who are you kidding, you’re charmed by him anyway. Talking with him comes easily, and the time flies by as you style his hair, moisturize his skin, add a bit of concealer here and there. He’s funny, sweet, intelligent. Austin has told you a bit about him, about his friend who helped him during one of the most confusing times of his life. But this - this is more than you were expecting. He’s more than you were expecting. And you’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. When he asks you out for a drink later, you’re absolutely certain. It is with no small amount of regret that you turn him down.

The first time you noticed something akin to a spark between the man you’d casually been dating and his co-star was during press interviews for their new television series, Masters of the Air. As Austin and Callum’s groomer and makeup artist, you were allowed a seat at the back of the room, near the video monitors, ready to jump into action if one of Austin’s curls needed to be twisted back into place or if Callum’s nose got too shiny and needed a bit of powder. You glanced up from your phone to see the two of them leaned so close together their shoulders touched, just barely. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Callum’s mouth looked as if it might graze the shell of Austin’s ear, a smirk playing at the edges, as his dark, curly head bent conspiratorially towards his friend’s blonde one. Silly boys, you thought, smiling to yourself as you watched them. You’d seen that look on Austin’s face before…it was almost one of… adoration.

Without warning your mind flashed back to last night, Austin gazing up at you through your thighs, a look of devotion on his face, his sandy hair ruffled and his eyes slightly dazed. The very same look that he’s now turned on Callum… Nah… You laughed at yourself quietly and shook your head to clear your thoughts, silently scolding yourself. You’d been reading too many spicy novels recently and clearly your imagination was running wild. It made sense that he and Callum were close. Austin had been lost as a newborn calf without a mother after Elvis had wrapped and Masters of the Air had started filming. A brotherhood, that’s what Austin had called it. And Callum had been his right hand man. And that’s all, you were sure. Pretty sure.

Bar Lubitsch is dim and noisy, crowded with cast and crew of Masters for an impromptu celebration while so many of them are in town. Austin hasn’t been here in years, always remembered it being a good time. He wants to show you and Callum a good time, after all the hard work you three have been putting in for press the past couple of weeks. That was two hours and three drinks ago, and you watch them now from your perch at the bar and how much they feed each other’s souls, like displaced brothers, reunited after years apart. The evening is starting to shift and blur, so many drinks and people and noise and singing. You never knew Callum loved to sing so much, until he was singing karaoke at the top of his lungs and the whole bar was gathered around the little stage in the back room, jumping to the beat while he sang the most risqué lyrics right to Austin, like they were the only two people in the room:

Even when the cold comes crashing through

I'm putting all my bets on you

I hope they never understand us

I put my heart inside your palms

My home in your arms

Now we know nothing matters

Nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

You’re not sure you’ll ever be over Callum pinching Austin’s cheeks, channeling his inner Egan, and singing right at him with drunken gusto while Austin is too tipsy to remember not to bask in it and it’s probably the cutest, and hottest, thing you’ve ever seen. It’s only afterwards that you start to feel a tiny flicker of jealousy. There’s something between them, a connection that time and distance hasn’t untethered. Later, you drag Austin into one of the faded velvet booths, snuggling up to him as he pulls you into a one-armed embrace, kissing your temple with glassy eyes and a crooked smile. His heady mix of sweat and cologne mingle, along with the alcohol, and suddenly you’re lightheaded. Not to mention the fact that his soft lips have seemed to have move, with lightning speed, from your temple to your neck. You gently push him away, and he gives you a questioning look but you need to see his face when you ask him this.

“Hey…what’s going on with Callum? Because, it’s clearly something? And whatever it is, it’s ok, really it is…but…I do have eyes, Austin,” you blurt out, biting your lip. You see a dozen different emotions cross his features, like a movie playing out in real time - surprise, guilt, defensiveness, longing, acceptance. His face goes all red and he leans his head back, his tan throat open and inviting, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly. It takes everything in you not to kiss him right this second.

“It’s…complicated. Kind of,” he sighs as he stares up at the ceiling and you can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it and that’s answer enough for you. You don’t push him further as you quietly turn his mouth to yours and make him forget anything and everyone but you.

“Come on Aus, it’ll be just like old times,” Cal goads drunkenly, placing a proprietary hand on Austin’s belly, his words laden with meaning and a hint of pleading. It’s not like he’s missed Austin or anything…not like that. Not that he’d admit anyway, hell no. Couldn’t two dudes have a consensual thing and not be weird about it? It must be liquid courage that made him suggest it aloud. That and the fact Austin keeps looking at him like he hung the damn moon.

“Swear you’ll shut up? If I say yes, will you just…chill?” Austin’s eyes are trained on you and it takes everything in him to play it cool, keep a calm head. Cal’s hand is still on Austin’s stomach and he starts to pet him, just above the belt and it makes Austin lurch in sudden need. He licks his lips, they’re suddenly parched, and swallows hard. He hears Cal snicker softly in his ear.

“Now, see, as I recall, you wouldn’t stop asking me to keep sayin’ shit last time.” Callum’s voice floats above the music, scratchy from gin and karaoke, hot breath tickling the shell of Austin’s ear. His hand moves to squeeze Austin’s neck, and if Austin didn’t know any better he’d swear it was a subconscious power move, Callum trying to literally bend Austin to his will. There’s an all too familiar twitch down Austin’s pant leg, and oh god he wishes- he thought, he was so sure, he was past that phase of responding like one of Pavlov’s dogs to Callum’s adoration and teasing.

Maybe it’s just the notion, his suggestion. That’s what’s suddenly making Austin’s blood feel hot and his eyes hazy, it’s the idea of her…and him! But mostly her, just her, and sharing her and- None of that explains the way he wants to bend to that firm hand squeezing in drunken cajoling at the base of his neck, makes him want to knock noses and yank at the stupid collar of Callum’s sweater until there’s collarbones to see and a draft under the wool. This is winter in Los Angeles, heating inside is state of the art, there’s no reason for such coziness and it’s making the man sweat and all Austin can think of from the smell is memories of an English summer, worn out and floating in his own body, biting down on Callum’s upper arm, tangy, sweaty flesh to keep an awfully strange escapade quiet.

That does it. What is he even thinking? He must’ve drank more than he realized but then, oh god, there Cal goes, throwing his hands up in defeat, shrugging his shoulders like a kid caught trying to push his luck. The arm around his shoulder is suddenly gone, and he’d give anything to have it back again. He shakes his head - he really must’ve had too much to drink. It was making him melancholy and sobering him up fast. Funny how alcohol will do that to you.

“Scouts honor, Butler, I’ll-I’ll-I’ll,” he seems to search the ceiling in drunken concentration for the correct wording most likely to open the doors to the kingdom, “I’ll be- it’ll be: HER, YOU and a um, uh mannequin. How ‘bout that, mate? Good enough for ya? You’d probably like that, wouldn’t ya? Ya little freak!” He lands a playful right hook to Austin’s jaw, hard knuckles digging into soft cheeks.

The usually inflammatory epithet of ‘freak’, coming as it does from a man begging for a threesome with himself and his girl, is nothing short of rabidly complementary. Callum’s shit-eating, triumphant grin could light up the whole damn room in this moment. He knows he’s got Austin right where he wants him and starts to count down silently in his head - three…two…

Austin finds himself grinning, a warning, measured thing but a condoning of the sentiment all the same.

“One,” Cal says out loud, his arm going back around Austin’s shoulders, squeezing so hard Austin winces a little. It’s a reflective motion then, done almost without thinking, when Austin slaps Callum’s thigh, not realizing there’s a boner bent down that trouser leg. A wounded hiss leaves Callum’s lips as he caves in on himself a little bit and Austin freezes, his face turning crimson and he feels another twitch down his own trousers.

“Steady on mate,” Callum coughs, shaking a leg, trying to discreetly readjust. “And I thought I was the eager beaver here.” Austin wants to wipe that smirk right off Callum’s smug little face but the moment their eyes meet they can’t help but start to laugh. Giggles, really, which turn into loud guffaws that has the whole bar turning to see what the commotion is about.

Your head whips around at the sound you’ve grown to know well over the past few weeks, the loud and boisterous laughter of two friends who seem forget that anyone else exists when they’re together. You spot them, huddled close as they always seem to be, and shake your head. A grin tugs at your lips and threatens to spill out the feelings fluttering around in your chest, no your stomach, no…somewhere else, lower. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about the two of them…together. Sometimes you’re with them, sometimes you’re not, in these little fantasies of yours. You catch yourself biting your lip and staring at them a little too longingly. You wonder what they’re saying now, both of them look flustered and awkward, just slightly. You can actually feel the tension rolling off of them in waves from where you stand across the bar.

Austin chooses that moment to look up and catch your eye. There’s a fire in his gaze that wasn’t there earlier and what is that look on his face? You’ve never seen it before…shy and almost…guilty? He looks just like a little boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Your eyes question him across the dim bar, an unspoken tether ties you together wherever you are, and uncertainty about the deal he’s just struck with Callum comes creeping in. What has gotten into him? He’s just agreed to share you, with another man. And not just any man, one he has a rather interesting history with. The thought of Callum touching you, kissing you, fucking you…suddenly he’s stone cold sober and beginning to regret letting Cal sway his decision. Because there sure as hell won’t be any take backs, not with Callum. He’s like a dog with a bone once he gets what he wants.

“Dude no, there’s chemical flavoring in there, that shit’s bad for you and it’ll give her irritation!” Austin looks slightly perturbed, not for the first time this evening. He sways slightly under the florecent lights of the drugstore, the constant buzzing adding to the pounding in his head.

“What if it’s not intended to go on her? Hmm? Thought of that Butler?” Callum murmurs under his breath, his eyes focused solely on the lube he’s holding, a pink blush creeping up his neck to his ears. Has a blush under drugstore fluorescents ever looked so lovely? And Austin hasn’t stopped biting that lower lip since you walked into this place. It hasn’t stopped him from grinning, though, his excitement bubbling through in little ticks and tells, the nervous turning over of the vaseline jar in his large hands.

“You haven’t even bought me dinner Cal, just straight to the flavored lube,” Austin bemoans, faking offense. “’Sides, she’s already sweet enough, aren’t you baby? I’ve had my fair share of licks,” Austin’s shoulder bumps yours as he sends you a smoldering look, his eyes flickering down your body briefly before his cheeks turn a slight rosy color you can see blooming up from his chest through his open shirt collar.

“Austin!” you hiss, slapping his arm playfully and hiding your face in his neck, embarrassed.

“Leave it to you two twig Bettie’s and we’d be down to nothin’ but socks and coconut oil,” Cal snarks, not at all inaccurately.

“I don’t remember you minding coconut oil last time,” Austin says under his breath, clearly meant for Callum’s ears only, but you manage to catch it, and your heart starts to pound at the implied meaning.

“Mmm, and it was bitter so - mojito,” Callum says decidedly, leaving no room for argument. Austin smiles at you, lifting his shoulder in a shrug and rolling his eyes heavenward. You giggle nervously, wondering for the first time just what you’re getting yourself into.

“I saw that! Listen mate, feel free to shut me up at any time. This would do nicely, ya reckon?” Callum lifts a silk sleeping mask with one, long finger and swings it around seductively, waggling his eyebrows up and down comically. You laugh and the butterflies making a home in your ribcage start to settle down again.

The whimpers emanating from between your parted lips take you by surprise and you promptly shut your mouth, unexpectedly embarrassed to be mewling so wantonly. You bite your lip as it becomes harder and harder to hold them in with every slow thrust of Austin’s velvety cock filling you, his swollen tip hitting just the right spot, and every flick of Callum’s tongue as he laves at your tender little clit with vigor. You feel Austin tense slightly beneath you as Cal swirls his tongue down to your opening to lap at where you and Austin join, sloppy and wet. A soft moan floats past your left ear, Austin’s hot breath sending a shiver through you, and it seems to invigorate Callum as he doubles down on his efforts to have his tongue cover as much surface area as possible. He chuckles and it jolts through you as your back arches, your fingers finding his dark curls and yanking him closer, demanding something you aren’t even aware of. He understands what you need even if you don’t and as his lips close around your sensitive bud you can no longer keep quiet, keening softly. You practically buck off of Austin’s lap and his arm tightens around your waist to keep you in place. The harder Callum sucks, the more Austin starts to whine - you’ve gotten so tight around him he can hardly thrust.

“Oh fuck, what’re you doing? Cal…what…” you slur as you pull at his hair, trying to dislodge him from your clit. You feel him grin against your heat as he slowly slips two fingers in you, resting them alongside Austin’s length. You hiss at the stretch and Austin starts to pick up his pace again. Your head is too hazy with pleasure to register fully what is happening as Callum gently slides another finger in next to the first two. His mouth works your clit, sucking and pulling, harder then soft again.

“More…more more more,” you beg hoarsely. You feel as if you might fly away and the only thing anchoring you to earth are these two men and their hands and their mouths on your body. Callum cocks an eyebrow at you and his eyes shift to Austin. You feel him nod, barely, and then another burning stretch as Cal slips his pinkie in next to his other fingers. It drives you insane and you feel yourself clenching and coming, harder than you can ever remember. You stop breathing for a moment, your mind going numb with rapture as you come apart at the seams.

“Oh fuck,” Austin whispers, biting your shoulder, his hand absentmindedly palming your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple. “Come on baby, I know you’ve got more, give us another one. Cal, can’t thrust with you in there…give me some room, huh?”

Callum let’s go of your clit with a wet pop and gently slides his fingers out. His nose and chin are shiny with your juices, even his eyebrows look a little damp and he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Go on then, Butler, show us what you got.” He stands, knees popping as he does. From up here he can see your faces clearly, yours and Austin’s. He watches, rapt, as Austin nuzzles your neck, nipping at your earlobe as he speeds up his thrusts, toying with your nipples mercilessly. Your eyes flutter closed and your head drops back onto his shoulder. Callum shakes his head, dazed and pussy drunk - why was he on his knees so long?? He coulda been watching this the whole time? But he knows why- fresh, homegrown pussy. And he means to have his fill. He can’t take being on the sidelines, watching Austin move in and out of you at a punishing pace, having all the fun. One of Callum’s massive palms descends onto your clit, slapping and rubbing cruelly, back and forth, faster and faster. And then you’re gushing everywhere, all over Callum’s hand and Austin’s cock and the bed, soaking everything.

“Come on then girl, give us all you’ve got,” Cal encourages, his raspy voice driven to the point of hoarseness. He grabs his painfully hard, throbbing cock and roughly starts to slap your clit. You gasp, jerking in Austin’s arms as you fall apart again. And then Callum gets a thought, because his dick is doing most of the thinking just now, and it’s been sadly neglected thus far. He’s just had four fingers in you and now you’re literally flinging droplets with each swipe, it’s a goddamn swamp down there it’s so wet. He slows his slaps and starts to rub soft circles against your clit, stopping every once in a while to try your entrance gently, just to see. You moan breathlessly and his heart speeds up as he looks at Austin questioningly.

“I recognize that gleam in your eye, Turner…spit it out,” Austin says in a slightly strangled voice.

“Think you can take us both, angel? At the same time?” Callum directs his question to you, ignoring Austin.

You can’t take your poor abused clit getting ground on anymore, it’s just too intense, anything to give it a break. You nod your head so fast he thinks it might fly off. Your trembling little hand reaches down with disjointed begs of “Put it in baby, put it, please Cal, it’s burning.”

Your sloppy wet pussy hole visibly clenches with a tiny space of room left each time Austin digs in. Callum drunkenly wonders if they should have a medical professional on standby for this sorta shit, like it’s gotta be a crime to wedge two boys into a girl, especially when Butler’s packing like that. But your whine suggests you need it and he’d really like to not be left out. FOMO -that’s what he’ll blame when he’s driving the ambulance or else coming down from the craziest high he’s ever had with a pool of cum drying on his belly.

Austin goes still as a statue under you and drags your sweaty hair across to the other shoulder so he can really see your face and ask, “You sure? Baby, talk to me, you really wanna try?” His hand gently grips your chin, forcing you to focus on his eyes, his question.

“I’ll die if I don’t have you both,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper, but Austin still looks concerned and slightly perturbed. Is the girl he knows even in there? But you want something, you want this and he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t give you anything you want that’s within his power to give. And if there’s one thing he loves about you it’s your love of a challenge. He bites his cheek, trying not to blow his load over your sweet determination.

“Ok ok.” Austin takes a deep, steadying breath, kissing your wet temple and gives Callum a very familiar look of admonishment and also trust in his good intentions. “Careful, man, really careful,” he instructs as Callum nods his silent assent.

“No safe words, just if somebody says stop we stop, ok?” Austin’s starting to pant, as he can feel the poofy mushroom head of Cal’s cock brushing his sack at your entrance. “Anybody who says stop,” he clarifies, half thinking he might be the first to wimp out and do it.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Cal actually looks sober as fuck except for the sheen of sweat that always seems to come with his pints and somehow the eye contact he makes lights a fire in Austin’s belly.

“I might say no,” you squeak, “I won’t mean it though, just a heads up. I’ll say stop- if I need to stop.”

“No?” Cal laughs nervously. “That might make me feel a little…bad,” he admits, still rubbing maddening circles around where Austin’s been practically cockwarming you for ages.

“Stop getting all existential and give her what she wants, man,” Austin rebuts.

“It’ll make me feel bad if she says no,” Cal blurts, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Then I’ll do it.” Austin’s voice is rough in your ear and your nipples harden into peaks as he gently pulls out of you and pats the bed. “Tell Cal to lay his big ass self down.”

You giggle as Callum dives onto the bed, bouncing for a moment until he settles, turning over onto his back, head propped on a lazy forearm. He pats his meaty thighs and you roll your eyes but can’t deny the flip flop your stomach does at the thought of those thighs and what a nice cradle they’ll make while you’re railed within an inch of you’re life. And then you’re hovering over him, Cal kneading your hip encouragingly while running an admiring hand up and down your spine, like you’re a skittish horse in need of calming. You hesitate, momentarily unsure, but Austin nods at you reassuringly from the foot of the bed and ever the gentleman, gives you his hands to hold as you sink slowly down on Callum. Though his gentlemanly hands are gripping yours tightly, his eyes are glued to your pussy taking every inch of uncut Brit cock that he’s maybe gagged on once.

“Earth to Butler!” comes from behind you because Austin’s zoned out a little and it’s been a hot minute and you’re somewhat situated now.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, uh, ok, ok…”

Cal snickers before crunching up behind you, his chest hot against your back as he wraps his arms around you. “You feel lovely, darlin’, wanna lay back wif’ me? Don’t mind him, he’s lost it. Always goes a bit soft in the head around a pretty pussy or my cock.”

It’s a lot from this position and laying back against Callum’s chest is intense. You feel like he’s fully in your belly and it stretches your womb over him. He feels different…his isn’t as wet as Austin’s little water fountain but it throbs more noticeably, sending little shocks of pleasure through you. Cal pets your belly soothingly and spreads your pussy lips for Austin to really get a look at. You whine and squirm, realizing again the want for more. Those fingers dabbling at your entrance, threatening to push inside you once more and that’s when Austin breaks, recalling that’s what he and his cock are here for.

“Yeah, ok, ok, present and accounted for. Move your hand,” he murmurs, swiping Cal’s hand away. He thumbs at you himself for a bit, just to be sure and to watch as Cal loses his cool facade for a second when you clench tightly around him.

“Still sure about this, baby?” He asks one more time as he’s pressing at the ring and the burn has you bracing. You feel Cal’s hand move from your waist to your thigh, behind your knee, cupping it and dragging it wide, spreading you apart before you’ve even said your piece. The vote of confidence does you good and you take a deep breath, nodding once, decisively.

“Then put me in, angel,” Austin tells you, fat cockhead already snagged in but there’s a little ripple in his hard cock from the resistance of the tight space. Steeling yourself, you reach down and wrap your fingers around him, tugging him closer and slowly feeding his thickness into you alongside Cal’s, who starts thrashing his head and moaning at the drag like he’s the one getting breached.

“Good girl, good girl, please more…know you can take more.” Cal’s begging for cock by proxy and it alters your brain somehow. Austin’s too, he puts his hips into the effort and soon he’s gotten past the muscles at your command and into the threshold where you can’t manage to push him out if you tried. It makes you panic a little, but Cal is softly shushing in your ear, a distracting thumb stroking behind your knee, other freckled hand mauling a tit and begging you to take more cock so he can get friction.

“She can take it, come on, Austin,” he vouches for you, a little self promotion as you can’t even form words right now. Somewhere about six inches in your vocabulary consists of yelped little “fuck’s”and whimpering “I cant’s”.

Austin caresses your cheek, commanding you to look at him, his blue eyes focused in on yours, “That’s it baby, just a little more. You’re doing so good for us… such a good girl.”

Callum grab’s Austin’s shoulder and brings him fully deeper, which is all well and good when Austin kisses your forehead and insists raggedly, “You are doing it, baby.”

When he finally pushes in that last little bit, you lose any control you thought you had, instantly coming from the stretch and threatening to push Austin out. But he presses nothing less than his full weight on you, keeping you in place and himself snug inside next to Callum. You gasp for air and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him. Austin tries to remember to breathe and promptly forgets how when he makes eye contact with Callum for the first time since being balls deep.

“Are you -is that you…twitching?”

“Woulda thought you’d remember that,” Callum smirks. “Coulda sworn I recall you saying something about it jumping like a live wire in your hand?”

“Christ, well it feels different all…snuggled up next to mine,” Austin grits out, coloring slightly.

After a moment or two, when breath has been regained and a few laughs shared and some semblance of sanity restored in right spaces, Cal starts to pepper every inch of your neck and cheeks in kisses. Now that he’s not so desperate he’s become utterly grateful for you, for this. The kisses turn into sloppy, wet groans in your ear as Austin begins to move and Cal’s hand is gripping your jaw, his eyes locked on Austin, your legs thrown wide over his thighs, spread to the max and he’s a perfect recliner. He throws his other arm across your chest in a loving armbar, holding you still on top of him, “So Butler can get a rhythm, baby.”

Austin looms above you both, finding his pace, measured and steady. His beautiful face is flushed full of awe and there’s a heat in his gaze you’ve never seen before. He puts his hand on Callum’s shoulder for leverage, long fingers digging into freckled flesh and Cal promptly lays a little smooch on Austin’s forearm with a cheeky grin. Austin’s eyes shift and change, become a deeper blue and an expression you can’t read flits across his face as he jabs a particularly hard thrust into you. Callum starts to whimper and squirm when he realizes Austin’s thrusts are rubbing him too well, and it's not just you who’s getting their spot hit - that spot being his foreskin being drug back and forth in maddening little drags.

“Y’all like that? Feel good?” Austin growls lowly, rhythmic thrusts pushing you and Callum deeper into the fluffy white sheets, both of your whimpers combining until you can’t tell who they belong to. Austin groans and drives in harder, his white knuckles gripping Callum’s shoulder hard, while he reserves his tenderest touch for you, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

“You’re…enjoying this…” you manage to moan between thrusts. His face splits into a grin as he pushes all the way in, pausing for a moment to kiss you hard, all tongues and teeth and desperation.

“Oh, fuck mate, that’s so good. Oh my god,” Callum babbles. “Right there, fuck, right there. You feel so good.”

“Which one, baby girl? Me or her?” Austin smirks.

For once, Callum has no witty response except the heavy panting in your ear. He squeezes your waist harder and his fingernails indent your hip and it gives you something else to focus on while you catch your breath, a tiny escape from the mind-blowing ecstasy you feel and the slight alarm bells ringing in your head. You can feel Callum somehow expanding and growing inside of you, even bigger than he was before. Austin’s eyes go wide and a look of panic crosses his face - his perfect pink mouth forms a perfect “o”.

“Oh shit, what…why is everything so fucking tight again…what is happening,” Austin groans breathlessly, his mouth set in a determined line, teeth ground together so hard you worry momentarily he might break a tooth. He tightens his grip on Callum’s shoulder and Cal’s massive hand encircles Austin’s delicate wrist, knuckles white as he holds on for dear life.

“Faster…faster,” Cal begs, again and again. “Sorry no, mate it’s, it’s fuckin’ happenin’…oh fuck.” His head cranes forward and you can feel his belly and hips flexing beneath you as he tenses over and over, letting out a hoarse sort of howl as he comes. His warmth fills you and it shakes something loose in your head, your own stomach starting to clench as you grab a handful of Austin’s golden hair, urging him on. Callum’s hands are all over you, petting you everywhere as he starts to come down.

“S’ok I came in ya? Yeah? Good, ‘cause I did,” he whispers hoarsely with a remorseful little laugh, back to babbling to you now that Austin’s got him there. He wipes the sweaty hair from your forehead, tucking a piece of it behind your ear and kisses your neck, whispering encouraging words, “That’s it, babe, give us another one.”

Cal’s bitten off little whimpers spur you on, as his soft cock is trapped in there too, getting pummeled. He’s trying to focus on you, with little pets and murmurs of encouragement but you feel his jaw clench as he grits his teeth, taking the pounding Austin is giving the both of you.

“Got me feelin’ like a proper woman, squealin’ n’ shit, Aus.”

You feel another orgasm build and shake through you, one of the many countless times you’ve fallen apart tonight, but this one stands out. It would bring you to your knees if you were unlucky enough to be standing at this moment. You’re sure it has something to do with knowing you’re satisfying two men at once, Callum having found his release and Austin being close to his. You can tell he’s on the verge by the little signs you’ve grown to recognize over the course of your relationship. The way his forehead creases in between his brows - you’ve kissed it away a dozen times in the heat of the moment. The way his pulse beats on the side of his neck, his vein there popping out and becoming more prominent. The short little huffs of breath he inhales, in quick succession - one, two, three, bam, bam, bam, like three shots straight to your heart. It’s your turn to take care of him, the last one standing after he made sure you and Cal got yours.

“Your turn, baby,” you whisper, pulling his forehead down to meet yours, thumbing at the hollows of his cheeks as he begins to tremble and his thrusts turn sloppy. He kisses you again, sucking on your tongue before moving to latch onto your neck. Cal wraps a hand around Austin’s throat, pushing his head back and squeezing just enough for his eyes to widen and his mouth to pop open. His blue eyes darken and you think he’s going to put his mouth on you again, but he bypasses you and goes straight for Callum’s collarbone, his perfect, white teeth sinking into Callum’s lovely English skin and biting down, hard. Cal yelps but doesn’t let go of Austin’s neck, and that’s when you feel it, your belly filled with warmth again as Austin pulses and twitches inside you, a stuttered moan muffled into the crook of Callum’s shoulder. He collapses on top of you and Callum, completely and utterly spent, the three of you breathing heavily and unable to move for a few moments. You squirm a tiny bit, trying to take a deep breath with one man plastered to your front and another to your back.

Austin gets the hint and lifts himself back up on shaky arms, slipping out of you with a squelch. You gasp one final time, at the sudden loss of him, and a cold emptiness is left where he once filled you to the brim, almost to breaking. The coldness is replaced quickly by a gushing warmth spilling out of you. You feel Callum suck in a breath, his broad chest expanding beneath you, his right arm still wrapped tightly around your chest.

“Christ, it’s running down my balls,” he wheezes out, taking another shuddering breath.

Austin braces himself against the headboard and slowly disentangles himself, flopping limply beside you on the bed. He looks at you and Cal still entwined, his eyes moving from both of your faces flushed with heat, down to Callum’s arm still tightly wrapped around you, one large, meaty hand gripping your breast, his middle finger absentmindedly pressing the sensitive bud of your nipple down. Austin sucks in breath after breath, and his eyes travel lower, to your legs still splayed wide over Callum’s sturdy thighs, his softening cock still nestled deep inside you, the spend of both men slowly dripping out of you. A sudden flash of possessiveness roars through him - for you, for Callum. For the sacred thing he has with both of you. His face goes numb and his ears start to ring. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“What is it, Aus?” you whisper, stretching out a hand to him. He looks forlorn, alone on the other side of the bed, his vulnerable face a mix of emotions crashing together all at once, lost and unsure, the gravity of everything settling on his shoulders like a blanket.

“Come back to us.” Your fingertips barely reach to brush his bronzed chest, the little blonde hairs soft against your skin. “Please.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and crawls back over, wrapping his arms around you both and collapsing on top of you again. You’re hilariously squished in the middle of a bear hug now, both men squeezing with all their might, a strange show of masculinity to mask true feelings.

“I can’t breathe….” you manage between giggles. Callum lets out a soft chuckle in your ear, his breath warm against your cheek as his arm shifts beneath you. He digs his fingers into Austin’s armpit and wiggles them around none too gently. Austin bucks against you and squeaks out an uncharacteristically high laugh, trying to squirm out of Cal’s grasp, but it’s too strong and Austin’s body feels like jelly just now.

“Hey! Hey hey, no fair…you know I hate… being… tickled…” Austin grunts out, trying desperately to writhe out of this strange embrace.

Bright, cheerful sunshine spills onto the hotel room floor and across the bed, where it has no right to be at this ungodly hour. It shines in unabashedly, through drapes you forgot to close properly in all of your horny desperation. A little sliver of verdant green Hollywood hills is the only signal from the outside world. In here, somewhere between sleeping and waking, in that hazy early morning dreamland, you register Austin tucked up close behind you, his knees pushing the backs of yours and his warm, heavy arm slung over your waist. This is how you wake up every morning and you scoot your bottom back, into the cradle of his hips, momentarily unaware of the pulverization of your insides. But scenes from last night play out like a clip reel inside your head almost as soon as you’re conscious. You squeeze your eyes tight, refusing to give the sun its due. You stretch your legs gingerly, wiggling your toes against Austin’s, and take stock of things. There’s the obvious ache between your legs - more of a throbbing fire, if the truth is to be told. Your nipples seem to remember the previous evening’s activities as well because they immediately harden and stand at attention. And you can’t feel them yet but you’re pretty sure you have a few bruises, too. Ah well, you think as you yawn lazily, that’s what makeup is for.

You blink one eye open (it’s so bright in here!) and the first thing you encounter is a massive arm right next to your nose, tiny, golden hairs glinting in the sunlight. The second thing you see is Cal, on his belly and sans sheets or clothes, his lush and muscular bottom swelling above the white duvet beneath him. His adorable face is pressed into the pillow next to yours, dark curls swirling across his forehead and day’s worth of stubble dots his jaw. He feels your eyes on him, he’s only been snoozing for a bit, waiting for you two to wake up. He cracks one bright, blue eye open and stares back at you a moment. He senses a rush of what he feels everytime he sees you but this time it’s magnified by endearment and gratitude. Then, his face lights up, still smushed into the pillow and a massive, squinty grin splits his face. Your heart gives a funny little leap inside your chest and you find that your fingers are caressing his cheek softly, of their own volition and you resist the urge to kiss the little freckle under his mouth. He grabs your hand and kisses your fingertips, holding them to his warm lips as he smiles. And suddenly, any worry about things being weird has evaporated, as has any possibility of him being a third wheel. He just belongs.

“Hey! Quit making goo-goo eyes at my girl.” Austin’s gravelly morning voice rumbles from behind you playfully, and quick as lightning the arm still draped around your waist reaches over and smacks Callum’s ass, hard. The slap echoes around the room and you see the pale flesh of his bottom bounce and reverberate with the force of it. Cal, and his red, pillow creased face, jolts forward, yelling and jerking in the sheets, which in turn rubs his raw cock. This causes a chain reaction of events which results in him immediately pulling a sore muscle and flopping back down on the bed, moaning and rubbing his reddening backside.

“No fair, bruv,” he groans into the pillow. “That was too fuckin’ close to my balls.”

Austin chuckles and swats your ass gently for good measure. Slowly, everyone starts to shift and stir. First there are whines about soreness and muscles. Then about how sticky it all is. Then about who’s gonna order room service - but more pressingly, who’s gonna walk to the mini bar and grab a water. And then there’s an argument about who’s voice is less hoarse to call for the food - this ends up being you, hilariously. Then there’s moaning arguments about who is intact enough to wobble to the door and tip the server. In between massive amounts of doting and fretting over you, obviously. The boys are ever attentive, fluffing your pillows and making sure you’re comfortable while they feed you omelets and sausage and pancakes until your energy is restored. Over breakfast in bed, the arguments continue about who’s more bruised up - there’s a nasty bite mark on Cal’s collarbone but the fingerprints around Austin’s neck are a fair rival. There’s a panicked and very male discussion about emergency rooms when you admit you can barely move. But you manage to convince them that a nice, hot soak in the tub would do you wonders right about now. So Austin goes to draw you a bath while Callum helps you out of bed, wrapping a protective arm around your waist, and guiding you to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later you’re starting to feel somewhat restored and a little more like yourself. The boys take turns showering, getting ready for the screening event later today. They go about it quietly though, almost reverently, leaving you to relax in peace. You turn the hot water on again, you’ve soaked so long it’s turning tepid but you’re not ready to relinquish this luxury. You ask Austin to bring you your makeup kit, eying the marks on both of them that need covering up. First Austin, then Callum, one after the other they kneel beside the tub in only their dress pants, chest and feet still bare. There are bruises and hickies and bite marks on clavicles and necks and wrists. Poor Callum, with his delicate, reactionary British skin has what looks like beard burn over half his chest and up the side of his throat. You turn sideways in the fancy clawfoot bathtub, gingerly dabbing concealer here and there, doing the best you can to cover up any evidence of last night's revels. Austin sits patiently, a towel underneath his knees to buffer the hard tile floor, and watches you with his kind, enigmatic ocean eyes. They’re distracting, those eyes, as they watch your face, every blink and every smile.

“What is it, Aus? Something on your mind?” you finally murmur, unable to take such naked contemplation any longer.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He smooths the hair back from your forehead, rubbing a silky piece between his fingers. “I’m so lucky.”

Callum slouches against the doorway and lets out a quiet hum. “I think you mean we’re lucky, mate. The three of us.”

Pt 2 - The Three of Us: Brat Behavior

Tagging some Austin & Callum lovers I know: @jelliedonut @crazymadpassionatelove @elvisabutler @slowsweetlove @stylespresleyhearted @steph-speaks @blurredcolour @pearlparty

#austin butler #callum turner #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner smut #Callum Turner fic #callum turner imagine #the three of us #marina does it again #written by ab4eva

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nadvs · 4 months ago

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Bestie umm sorry (I’m h*rny) but could you write a blurb about Rafe x reader having sex for the first time after revealing their feelings for one another ?

aaa great minds 🤭 i was just thinking about this!!

based on this fic, continuation of this blurb! 18+!

rafe is lying awake in bed, staring at his ceiling in the dark, feeling like he needs to mentally catch up to everything that happened in the past 24 hours.

it’s all because he drunkenly called her his girlfriend last night. that set off a chain of events that eventually made them face the feelings they have for each other.

and even though he can’t pinpoint when his revenge hook-up turned best friend with benefits claimed a piece of his heart for her own, in retrospect, he can recognize the hints of proof that they weren’t just friends.

if she was always just a friend to him, he wouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about her. he wouldn’t have been in practice, trying to perfect his lay-ups, unable to really focus because he was looking forward to hanging out with her after. he wouldn’t have had so much fun doing something as mundane as grocery shopping with her. he wouldn’t be out with friends, all the while wishing he was with her in her dorm. he wouldn’t have liked the corny pillowtalk after sex as much as he liked the sex itself.

and now, he can’t stop thinking about how she felt pressed up against the couch earlier tonight. he was hard, because he always is when she’s touching him, but she has an early class tomorrow and he still feels like he got run over from how hard he partied last night and he knows that the next time they’re in bed together, it’ll be different because now they both know it’s not just sex. so he dropped her off without trying anything.

and honestly, he’s kind of nervous. this is all new. he never thought of himself as the boyfriend type, but then again, he didn’t know a girlfriend was this - a best friend who knows him inside and out and still chooses to like him.

he decides he’s taking her out tomorrow night. and then she’ll come over and he’ll show her just how much he appreciates that she’s a part of his life because he really has never felt as happy as he does when he’s around her.

through their whole friendship, rafe has been the decision maker. he makes the plans and all she has to do is show up. she loves that he does the work, and she knows she could tell him she wants to something else, and she has, but most of the time, she lets him be the boss because he does it so well. at least, in making plans. she challenges his dominance in other ways.

so, when he tells her to be ready for dinner at 7 the next day, she happily gets dressed and purposely puts on her nicest lingerie because she has a feeling that the night will end in his bed.

it’s not weird to greet each other with a kiss, even though they used to only kiss minimally during hook-ups. it’s not weird to hold hands as they walk up to the restaurant. it’s not weird when she playfully shoves his shoulder from across the table when he teases her and he kisses the back of her hand instead of pushing her away. it’s not weird, because it’s all things they both wanted to do but never did because they called each other just friends.

he suggests they go to his place and the moment his bedroom door shuts behind them, his hands are dragging up her thighs, squeezing her ass under her dress, kissing her hard.

rafe’s typically the aggressive one but now she’s shoving him back into bed, her hands on his hard chest, and he smiles under the kiss, revelling in how eager she is for him.

“can’t wait?” he mumbles, pulling her down by her waist on top of him.

she laughs softly, their noses touching as she lies on top of him, feeling his fingers sinking into her skin over her dress.

“what, can you?” she whispers, grinding up against him, feeling how he’s already hard as hell for her.

“you kidding?” he says. “no. look at you. you’re fucking beautiful.”

he’s never used that word before. outside of the bedroom, they were hardly ever verbally affectionate, and during sex, he called her hot a couple of times. this is new.

“i am?” she whispers, pressing her cheek against his as she starts to unbutton his shirt.

he’s overtaken by how badly he wants her, flipping her onto her back, kissing and nipping at her neck as he pushes the fabric of her dress up to her waist.

she gasps in pleasure when he yanks down her panties and puts his mouth up against her. her hand finds his hair as he starts to lap at her, treating her like he’s been craving her taste all day, and honestly, he has been.

her legs are spread as wide as they can go so he can kiss and lick and suck every inch of her. the sounds of her soft moans, of his mouth against how wet she is, are so fucking good that his cock is aching at this point.

they meet eyes as he sucks her clit, his nose pressed up against her, and she looks like she’s living in pure bliss and disbelief, her chest stuttering with her hard breaths.

he pulls back with a smack of his lips, his face wet from her, staring at her as he runs his fingers up and down her middle, slowly dipping a finger inside her.

“how’s that feel, hmm?” he says.

“so good,” she whispers, bucking her hips up against his hand. “so fucking good.”

he adds a finger, stretching her out slowly. she breathes out shakily, pushing up against him.

rafe can’t wait any longer. he pulls his clothes off as fast as he can and stands over her, palming himself as she sits up to take everything off.

their clothes are bunched up at the end of his bed as he lowers over her, holding his cock at its base, nudging against her entrance as he presses his open mouth on hers.

she hugs him with her arms and her legs, capturing his big body over hers, feeling like she’s aching for it.

“i get so hard for you that it hurts, you know that?” he says roughly. she melts beneath him when he sinks into her, hard against soft, and squeezes around him even tighter.

this is different, they can both feel it, but different good because there’s nothing unsaid between them anymore, no walls up blocking them from sharing an intimacy they held for each other but didn’t allow themselves to feel.

he fills her with a deep, tight pressure over and over as he rocks into her back and forth, still wrapped in her limbs, their temples pressed together.

“you always take it so fucking good,” he pants against her ear. “my good girl.”

she plants a slow kiss on his cheek as his words wash over her. he always praised her before, but never called her his girl. he has a more intense claim of ownership over her than she realized.

“keep talking,” she whispers, earning a smirk from him.

“you like it when i tell you how tight you are?” he groans. “squeezing me so fucking good.”

“mhm,” she mumbles, blissed out. her hands drag up his back, her nails running over his bare skin, holding back how hard she wants to grip him as he keeps thrusting rough and slow.

“go ahead,” rafe whispers. “scratch me up. i’m yours, baby. you fucking own me.”

his words send her over the edge, her nails digging into his skin, moving with his thrusts, running over his shoulders.

the sting hurts him in the best way. he holds her head in his hands to keep her steady, pulling back just a bit to lock eyes with her again.

he stares at her, in complete awe that he feels this good, that he found home in a person and that she found it in him, too.

“i’m yours, too,” she whimpers. “i always was.”

he kisses her hard. his thrusts start to get less rhythmic as he feels his body dissolving into an orgasm, starting to softly tremble as he puts all his weight on her.

the friction of him against her, the heaviness of him, the taste of him, the hardness of his body as she squeezes her limbs around him, makes her body go numb before she reaches a hard, mind-blowing peak, a tangle of yes’s spilling out of her mouth.

rafe doesn’t have the energy to get up right away as they start to tumble down from their orgasms. their chests are heaving, heads swimming with pleasure.

he gives her countless soft, lazy kisses before he stands, leaving the room to get her a towel. she’s in a daze as he cleans her up.

rafe wraps his arms around her once he lies down next to her, her nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as they lay tangled, naked together.

“that was…” she breathes. “the best we’ve ever done.”

“yeah,” he half-chuckles. they’ve hooked up so many times, in so many positions, and in so many places, even in her college library, but nothing beats the thrill of what just happened.

because it was an entirely new level. and there’s no coming back down.

“what i left marks?” she says, tracing her finger over his shoulder. the realization hits her. “oh my god. what if people can see while you’re playing?”

rafe huffs a self-assured breath, imagining the scratches she left on him, red lines running over his skin and underneath his jersey on the court.

“good,” he says simply. because then they’ll know he’s taken. and the girl standing court-side cheering for the other team will know it best.

#ask #swteblurb #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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peachdues · 1 year ago

Text

Bundle of Joy

Part 1/2 of a secret-pregnancy drabble between Sanemi and the Reader, who is the Lunar Hashira (not the same one from TWAHM). Protective/soft Sanemi, but the other Hashira don't know he's the daddy.

CW: suggestive/smut, blood, pregnancy, difficult labor. Sanemi is a dick to everyone but is so soft for Y/N.

You can find Part Two here and the prequel one-shot here

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Pregnant, Kocho had said, you’re pregnant.

She had sat there for a moment, too stunned to say anything right away. Her eyes flitted between the gentle look on the Insect Hashira’s face and the results of the blood work clutched in her hand.

Pregnant.

In retrospect, Y/N knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. Sanemi was a passionate lover, and she loved being the object of his passion, in both the bedroom and in those quiet, stolen moments shared at one another’s estates, away from prying eyes.

And sometimes, there were less-than-quiet moments where a certain someone had begged Sanemi to stay inside and give it to me, baby, please!

Okay, Y/N conceded, maybe those moments occurred more than sometimes (far more), and Sanemi had only been too happy to oblige her.

And so Y/N was pregnant.

“Well, that’s a surprise!” Y/N said with a soft chuckle, absent mindedly placing a hand over her flat stomach.

Kocho watched Y/N for a moment. “Y/N,” Y/N was surprised to hear Kocho refer to her by her first name, even more so when Kocho moved to place a hand over hers. “you are more than free to keep the child that comes from this pregnancy, or…” Kocho furrowed her eyebrows, struggling to phrase the information delicately, “we have things here that would terminate the pregnancy early. It would be painless.” She promised.

Y/N blinked in surprise. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but the thought of not letting the the child in her belly grow… no, she couldn’t do that.

“Thank you, Shinobu, truly,” Y/N squeezed her hand lightly. “But I wish to see this through.”

Kocho nodded, withdrawing her hand to reach for a stack of papers stacked besides her on the small exam table. “Well in that case, I will need to inform the Master right away. You can still perform some missions for now, but nothing too strenuous. The first few months of pregnancy are quite tricky.” Shinobu began scribbling down a message, but paused mid-word.

“Y/N… is the father… involved?”

Ah. That problem.

It wasn’t so much a problem for her and Sanemi as it was for everyone else. When they had finally given in to the simmering desire between them while training more than a year earlier, neither of them had intended for it to continue. But one time had not been nearly enough, and suddenly, Y/N had found herself craving his voice, his touch, and his lips, and he, hers. It had not taken long for them to realize how ridiculously, stupidly in love they were.

But they had both agreed to not tell the other Hashira — or anyone — about their affair. The decision mostly stemmed from practicality; the Master, while he did not oppose relationships amongst the Hashira, did have a practice of not pairing them up together once their relationship was made public. The Master believed, ultimately, it was too risky, as both would seek to protect the other, potentially to the detriment of civilians and other slayers alike.

It was a rational justification, but it did little to stifle the electricity which cackled between the two Pillars. It held little weight against the stony will of Sanemi Shinuzagawa.

Sanemi had been the first one to crack during an intense sparring session. He had caught Y/N off guard after she had dodged an attack, using the wind to pitch himself into her blind spot and sweep her shapely legs from beneath her.

But Y/N had never been one to go down without a fight, so she had wound the Wind Pillar’s haori around her fist mid-fall, and successfully brought him right down with her.

On top of her.

Sanemi had fallen with a grunt, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he realized Y/N had still managed to out-maneuver him, even after he had bested her. His full weight upon her, he had stared at her with a bewildered look in his eyes, breathing hard out of his nose as he struggled to collect himself.

His eyes flitted down once to Y/N’s fist, still wrapped in his haori, before they had lifted back up to her mouth, settling on that stupid, shit-eating smirk she had.

There had been no thoughts in Sanemi’s head as he crashed his mouth against hers in a flurry of lips and teeth.

Y/N had been frozen for half a second before she snapped back into herself and hauled him closer, meeting each demanding swipe of his tongue stroke for stroke.

Within minutes both of of the Pillars’ clothing had been reduced to shreds, and Sanemi’s head had found a home between Y/N’s legs. It had taken embarrassingly little effort on his part to bring her over the edge not once, but twice.

And when he finally flipped her on all fours and rammed his proud length into her desperate core, Y/N had come apart again, half-sobbing his surname as pleasure mixed with pain from overstimulation.

“You know my fuckin’ name. Use it.” He had snarled in between the ruthless snapping of his hips against her.

That night, Shinazugawa had made sure Y/N could only say one word:

Sanemi. Sanemi. Sanemi.

And when it was finally over, and the two had collapsed next to each other on the dirt ground of his training ring, spent and satisfied, Sanemi had told the sweaty Lunar Pillar that she was to report to his Mansion for training sessions forthwith.

Nightly training sessions.

Because one taste had ignited an inferno of desire between the two of them that could not be snuffed out. It could only be tamed when Y/N’s fingers buried themselves in his hair as his own tight grip on her hips and thighs left marks on her skin, his hips setting a relentless and savage pace as he rutted into her, wanton and needy. A fire that could only be soothed when Sanemi sent her hurtling over the edge of her pleasure and found himself free-falling after her, spilling himself inside her warmth until she was filled with nothing but him.

It had not been long before the emotional passion followed their more carnal desires. Y/N had known she was in deep when she had confessed to him her deepest fears of not living past the age of her elder brother and falling to demons the same way he had. She knew he felt the same way when, in the middle of the night, having been startled awake from some unseen terrors in his mind, he stopped leaving the futon they shared to sit out on the engawa stare up at the moon, instead seeking the comfort of her embrace, burying his nose into her hair as he willed his heartbeat to slow.

And so, for more than a year, the two Hashira had kept up the charade of being disinterested co-workers in public, concealing their endless passion, adoration, and concern for one another that they held in private. It appeared that none of the other Pillars were any the wiser.

The only difficulty now would be in how to tell him the news.

She would tell him, of course, the moment she returned to his estate in the dead of night, when she knew the other Hashira would be sleeping or out on patrol, far away from the grounds of Sanemi’s manor. Y/N would tell him, and then they would decide how to move forward, together.

Sanemi, who was so strong, so capable, was also so, so protective. He knew that Y/N was more than capable of handling herself on missions, but too much personal tragedy had scarred him and he found himself unable to leave her completely alone. Even if she had been assigned to complete what was technically a solo mission, Sanemi was always within a few miles to rush to her aid, should she need it. And Y/N was the same way with him. A true team, who could and would figure out how to deal with any obstacle.

But until then…

Y/N smiled, attempting to reassure Shinobu. “I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Shinobu, truly.”

Shinobu pursed her lips, debating whether to push her friend further on the matter. It wasn’t her place to pry, true, but she couldn’t help but worry.

While Shinobu knew Y/N could handle herself— very well — she also knew how it was to be a woman in society. Men were relentless in their pursuit of forcing women to do things against their will; their destructive creativity knew no bounds.

But Shinobu also knew that pushing any woman in such a situation could make her clam up, could make her resist help — or even treatment. So, Shinobu resolved to keep quiet for now, but to keep a close eye on Y/N throughout her pregnancy.

Had she known at the time of the Insect Pillar’s concerns, Y/N would have fallen off of Shinobu’s examination table in a fit of hysterics. The idea that Sanemi, Mr. Made-Madea-Piss-Himself-for-Harassing-a-Young-Slayer, would ever do anything she hadn’t wanted him to do was laughable — as if he didn’t have her begging and pleading for him to do more to her every night.

But Y/N didn’t know, and so she left the Butterfly Mansion without another word. Shinobu sent off her crow to the Master with the Lunar Pillar’s news, pulling Aoi aside to instruct her to monitor the pregnant woman throughout the upcoming months for anything amiss — bruises, unexplained injuries, general skittishness — and to report it immediately to her.

Shinobu may not have known the circumstances of Y/N’s pregnancy, but she did know she would not let harm come to her or her growing child.

———————

Sanemi had wept like a baby when Y/N told him that night.

The man who looked as though he were stone hewn by the wind itself fell to his knees and cried like Y/N had never seen before. He pressed his forehead against the flat expanse of her stomach, raining soft kisses across her abdomen as he held his love close.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered, between the pressing of his lips against her skin while she ran her fingers through his windswept hair, “Thank you for this gift.”

After Sanemi wiped his eyes, he made sure to spend the rest of the night showing Y/N exactly how grateful he was, though with a newfound gentleness. Sanemi typically took her roughly in a way that had Y/N’s eyes rolling back into her head, begging desperately for more. That night, however, he had treated her with such softness and love that it nearly shattered her heart. He had spent the entirety of the night holding her tightly against him, her name falling like a prayer from his lips while he gently rocked into her, whispering how beautiful she was and would look as she grew his child.

The next morning was not as beautiful.

“You’re retiring.” He said sternly as he poured her tea first, then his.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N retorted evenly, “Kocho said I could take low-risk missions until my next appointment with her, and that she would reassess her recommendation then.”

Sanemi stopped pouring his tea, setting the pot down a touch too hard. “Y/N. The first few months of pregnancy are when the mother is the most at risk for losing the child. I will not have you putting yourself in situations where that is a very real possibility.” He reached for her hand, closed in a fist on the table. “I…” he struggled to find his words. “I watched my mother… lose a few pregnancies at the hands of my father,” he spat the last word, but when he looked up at her, his eyes were tender; pleading. “I do not want to see you suffer through the pain that she did.”

Y/N softened at that revelation. She had known about Sanemi’s painful childhood, but the news about his mother’s lost pregnancies was new.

But this was different. She was a Hashira, not a housewife.

“This is… our thing, right now, isn’t it?” Y/N asked lightly, holding her steaming cup of jasmine tea between her hands, relishing in its comforting warmth. Sanemi said nothing but nodded, as he waited for her to continue.

“I’m not ready to share us with the world just yet."

Sanemi’s lips tightened, and his eyes fell to the floor. “Are you…unhappy with this news? He asked quietly. “Do you… feel ashamed… of…” His voice trailed off, but Y/N heard what he was asking all the same.

Ashamed of me?

Y/N’s head snapped up, and within a flash she was on her knees before him, clasping his large hand between her smaller ones. Sanemi kept his eyes resolutely on the floor rather than meet her piercing gaze, and Y/N tightened her grip.

“I need you to look at me when I tell you this,” she tugged lightly on his hand. Slowly, his eyes lifted from the floor and rested on her face, and Y/N’s heart clenched at the softness she saw reflected in his lilac gaze.

“I love you.” Y/N said simply, a small smile tugging on the corner of her pretty mouth. “I love you and I love our child. I thank the stars every day for you.” Sanemi’s breath caught in his chest at her words, and his hand returned her squeeze.

“But as you said, the first few months of pregnancy are difficult. I don’t want this news out before we’re ready to share it, especially in case of,-“ Y/N shut her eyes briefly, trying to shake away the encroaching panic she felt at the idea of losing the child growing in her womb. “In case something happens.” She managed.

“But if I retire now, there will be questions that I’m not ready to answer.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, feeling slightly guilty about the show she was about to put on. “But I need you to trust Shinobu’s medical opinion on this. To trust me.” Y/N pleaded, bringing his callused hand to her lips, brushing soft kisses over his scarred knuckles. “I need you to trust that I know my limits.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa would never admit it, but he was a sucker for Y/N’s pretty face. A bat of her eyelashes and a nuzzle of her face into his hand brought him to his knees in an instant.

“No dangerous missions. Minor demons only. Cleanup. That’s it.” Sanemi proposed, his voice gruff.

Y/N knew, of course, that Sanemi would still find a way to shadow her whenever she would be sent on a mission close enough to his location, and to be honest, she couldn’t blame him. After all, it was his child she carried. But he was willing to compromise — to try — for her.

So Y/N smiled. “Deal.”

———————————-

Pregnancy had generally been uneventful.

Shinobu had insisted at the start of Y/N’s second trimester that she abstain from future slaying missions (much to her chagrin and Sanemi’s joy), but she encouraged Y/N to continue training under the supervision of the girls at the Butterfly Mansion in order to maintain her abilities.

Of course, once missions were off the table, Y/N knew she had to come clean to the other Hashira.

Almost clean.

She had told them the essentials — she was with child and she was keeping it. Y/N and Sanemi had already agreed not to share that he was the child’s father, again out of concern that once the child had been delivered, the two would never again be permitted to share missions together.

To the other Pillars’ credit, no one pushed her for paternity details. Y/N suspected that Shinobu had shared her hypothesis with them, that the father at best was uninvolved, at worst, might attempt to do harm to her if he knew.

Sanemi said nothing in his own defense, and even talked Y/N down from screaming at the lot of them on his behalf. He informed her that as a result of Shinobu, the other Hashira had formed a little pact to protect both Y/N and her (their) unborn child at all costs.

Sanemi found great relief in this, given that he was still being sent on missions. The promise among the other Pillars meant someone was watching over Y/N at all times, should she ever need assistance. And, because he had also agreed to partake in this pact, Sanemi was guaranteed alone time with Y/N at her estate, without the added pressure of sneaking around the other Pillars. Thus, he had been content to sit back and keep the knowledge that she carried his child close to his chest.

And Sanemi had been so attentive to Y/N throughout the months of her pregnancy. He constantly worried about her comfort and sought to make pregnancy as easy as possible. He awoke at all hours of the night to fix something that would satisfy her insane cravings. He would arrive home from missions and kiss her so sweetly, Y/N thought her heart would burst, before pressing his ear against the growing swell of her belly to listen to his child’s small heartbeat and lavish Y/N with kisses and soft praises. In the later months of her pregnancy, he would be sure to rotate Y/N’s sleeping form throughout the night to ensure she wouldn’t wake up in pain or discomfort.

And throughout it all, he maintained his passionate physical love for her, though more gently so as not to risk hurting Y/N or their child. But he worshipped her body with such fervor that it often reduced Y/N to tears.

When Sanemi was away, the other Hashira took turns keeping Y/N company, and each Pillar took on a special role for her. Uzui and his wives showered her with new clothes, fitted to accommodate her growing belly, and the wives lauded her with compliments. Mitsuri had become her meal-time buddy, the two of them nearly eating their way through the entire pantry stock of both their mansions in a single evening.

And so, pregnancy itself, had been easy.

Labor, when it arrived, was an entirely different matter.

Labor hurt.

Y/N had known something was wrong the moment her water had burst, having barely registered the wetness that slipped down her legs due to the agony that followed, leaving Y/N feeling as though she was being ripped open from the inside.

Y/N’s ears rang with a scream she had not realized was her own until she felt her throat burn. Her knees buckled, and she would have hit the ground had Uzui and Rengoku not materialized out of thin air, having noticed her from across the courtyard outside of her estate. The pair stood on either side, working to catch her before her knees could bite into the rocks below.

“We need to get her to Kocho, right away,” Uzui said to Rengoku. “I can run ahead and let the Butterfly Mansion know we’re coming. Can you get her there?” The Sound Hashira asked Rengoku, who nodded.

“Come, Y/L/N, I’ll take care of you,” Rengoku said warmly, lifting her up into his arms before taking off at a break-neck speed. Y/N clutched the front of his robes, hissing as another wave of excruciating pain washed through her.

“Sorry- ah— Rengoku, I might tear your uniform.” Y/N said through gritted teeth, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.

Regoku’s deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “No worries, Y/L/N! I have plenty of uniforms. He glanced down at his friend, a comforting smile tugging on his lips, “You do what you need to do to help manage the pain.” He added kindly.

Y/N held onto the Flame Pillar’s robes for dear life, as she tried to keep herself from crying out, head falling against her friend’s chest. Above them, a raven circled once, twice, before heading east, its wings beating frantically.

The Butterfly Mansion had just come into sight when the unmistakable scent of iron hit Y/N’s nose. She tried to sit up in Rengoku’s arms to look over the large swell of her stomach, panic beginning to spread through her chest. Before she could confirm the source of the smell, Y/N collapsed back into Rengoku’s arms.

“Is-is that-?” Y/N trembled, her voice unusually high.

Rengoku’s nostrils flared slightly as he too, took notice of the scent. He only had to tilt his head slightly to the side to see below Y/N’s pregnant belly, his expression grim.

“Kyojuro,” Y/N whimpered, her grip on the front of his uniform slackening.

Rengoku turned his gaze back to Y/N’s, his expression soft and comforting as a kind smile chased away whatever shadow had been there.

“You are doing so well, Y/L/N! Truly! You will deliver this child in no time.” He said warmly, the hand holding her against him squeezing reassuringly.

Y/N may have been in blinding pain, but she did not fail to notice how the Flame Pillar clutched her tighter to him, his pace quickening as he sped towards the Butterfly Mansion.

Rengoku had all but leapt the last length of their journey, swiftly landing at the entrance to Kocho’s residence. The Insect Pillar was already waiting outside for them, alongside Uzui and a small team of Butterfly Mansion girls who were prepared to open doors and clear hallways for them.

“Come with me,” Shinobu ordered the moment Rengoku’s feet touched the ground, her eyes scanning over Y/N’s ashen face. Shinobu’s gaze snagged at the bloodstain spreading across the lower middle of the light cotton kimono Y/N wore.

Wordlessly, the small group of Hashira swept through the halls of the Butterfly House, escorted by Shinobu’s staff. The Insect Pillar drew up short outside of a small room in the back of the main hallway, urgently motioning Rengoku through the doorway.

“Uzui, grab Y/N’s legs. Rengoku, move your arms to support under her ribs,” Shinobu ordered the two men as she dunked her hands in a bucket of cold, soapy water, quickly scrubbing at her skin. “You both need to work together to lower her onto the birthing bed.” Shinobu pointedly looked to the small, white futon that lay in the middle of the wooden floor, its blankets already pulled back in anticipation of the pregnant woman now panting in Rengoku’s arms.

The pain in her lower belly was unbearable, and Y/N could not stop herself from crying out as she felt the two male Pillars gently readjust her so they could lower her as Shinobu ordered. Hot tears clung to her eyelashes as she gasped out, breathing becoming difficult through the haze of the pain.

Shinobu, having finished cleaning her hands, moved to kneel at Y/N’s feet. The Insect Pillar adjusted the futon’s cotton blanket to cover Y/N from the waist-down before gently spreading her legs and propping them up on either side of her.

“Y/N,” Shinobu said firmly, rolling up the bottom of the futon blanket to Y/N’s knees so she could examine her friend. “Y/N, you need to get your breathing under control. Your distress is affecting your body’s ability to heal, and it will harm the child.”

Y/N whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek. Eyes closing, Y/N took a shuddering breath, willing her heart to slow its wild thumping in her chest and her body to relax. She managed for all of two breaths before another wave of pain rocked through her, causing her to cry out.

“Dammit,” Shinobu swore, as a fresh wave of blood spilled from between Y/N’s legs, staining her trembling thighs crimson. Both Uzui and Rengoku stood back behind Y/N’s head, their eyes wide as the smell of blood hit them.

Shinobu wracked her brain, trying to think of something, anything, that would help her friend calm down enough to get her breathing under control, to get her body to stop fighting her labor.

“Y/N, does the father know? Does he know the child is coming?” Shinobu blurted, as she tried to wipe away the blood that was rapidly pooling beneath Y/N’s center.

It had taken a moment for Shinobu’s words to fully register in Y/N’s mind. Her heart stuttered as she remembered that Sanemi was on a mission, at least half a day’s journey from the Butterfly Mansion.

Y/N’s eyes filled with fresh tears not from the endless pain, but from the realization that Sanemi might not make it here in time, might not make it before she…

“He’s t-too far.” Y/N half-sobbed, back bowing off the futon as her body seized with the strain of labor, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to breathe through the contraction.

Uzui stepped forward from his spot against the back wall. “Nothing is too far for me, Y/N” he said gently, “tell me where he is, and I can get him here in a flash.”

Shinobu nodded, patting Y/N’s knee comfortingly. “Where is he, Y/N? Does he live in a village nearby?”

Y/N shook her head furiously, her mouth opening to respond, but only a choked sob came out.

Shinobu pressed. “Y/N, you must tell Uzui his name, or else he won’t be able to bring him back.” Shinobu motioned for one of the Butterfly Mansion’s young girls to bring over a damp towel to dab at Y/N’s burning forehead.

“Who is the child’s father, Y/N?” Shinobu repeated.

“It’s — fuck,” she hissed, her stomach feeling as if it were about to split open. “S-SANEMI.” She called out, body curling off the futon before collapsing against it once more, feeling exhaustion settling in over her bones, threatening to take over her consciousness.

The room was silent — dead silent — for a moment. Shinobu looked up to the two Male Pillars, her jaw slackened and her eyes wide, her shock mirroring that of both her comrades.

It had taken each Pillar another moment to re-correct themselves. Shinobu locked eyes with Aoi, a similar stunned look on her face, and silently ordered her to take up her position at Y/N’s feet. Once Aoi had knelt, Shinobu rose, and the other two Hashira swiftly exited the room, the former pulling the door to the birthing room behind her shut.

“No fucking way Shinazugawa is the father,” Uzui had hissed the moment the birthing room door had latched, his magenta eyes wild. “I can’t believe someone like Y/N would willingly have a child with that snarky little bitch.”

“You are not suggesting that Shinazugawa may have forced himself on Y/N, are you Tengen?” Rengoku asked quietly.

Uzui shook his head, scoffing slightly. “No. But I do think it's weird that she kept it a secret until the last possible second,” Uzui ran a hand through his hair, anxiously. “And he never said a damn word about it either. Maybe something happened that shouldn’t have. Maybe he feels ashamed.”

Rengoku eyed Shinobu, whose mouth had been pulled into a deep frown, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the Sound Pillar in deep thought. “Kocho? What should we do?”

Shinobu also did not believe Shinazugawa would ever force himself upon a woman, but she could not deny the unease she felt at the revelation that Y/N had concealed the identity of the child’s father. “Go get Shinazugawa, Rengoku.” She said softly, “Uzui, you stay here. Shinazugawa is fast enough on his own. I want you here to guard the door.”

Rengoku looked quizzically at his tiny friend, but she said nothing more and so he hid the pair farewell and took off into the night.

“Guard?” Uzui asked, puzzled.

Shinobu pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closing as a dull ache bloomed through her skull. “Unless and until Y/N asks for him, I want him kept out. I don’t imagine he would be a very calming presence.” Shinobu grimaced. “Frankly, I don’t have the patience to handle him right now. I need to keep her calm.”

Uzui nodded, moving only to send a crow for the Water Hashira to come assist. He leaned casually against the frame of the door once Shinobu had closed it back behind her, shaking his head lightly. Really, Y/N? He chastised, internally, Shinazugawa?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Keep an eye out for Part 2 if you want to see Sanemi be both feral and the softest boy.

#sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi drabble #kny x reader #kny sanemi

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