#i think when he isn’t using it he runs his fingers along the words to remind himself that everything that happened was tangible and real

[likeumeanit9497]

blue pill | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: alternate outcome of this;)

warnings: unprotected p in v; oral (m/f receiving); fingering; switch!matt; matt the munch (yes pls); dirty talk; use of boner pills; deepthroating; 18+

notes: here u are my matt queens!! if u start reading this and think ummm hello i've read this before????? no u haven't dw this has the exact same beginning as red pill the reader just makes a different choice when things start gettin hot;) if you've read red pill already and don't feel like u need a refresher on the buildup skip to the bolded sentence. i hope y'all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!! love u all so so much <333

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“This is so fucking stupid.” Matt groaned, sitting in between his brothers on the living room couch, holding a single red pill delicately in between two fingers as though it was a toxin. “Bro you’re the one who came up with the idea and bought them.” Chris retorted, inspecting the identical pill in his own hand. “Yeah, and I have no fucking clue why I agreed to this.” Nick chimed in, his voice filled with misery. “Because you can never turn down a competition.” I replied cheekily from my place on the other couch, giggling at the boys’ petty arguing.

Leaning forward, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket — opening up the timer app and hovering my finger over the start button. “Now hurry up and take them dummies, I’ll keep score.” I peered up at them as they gave each other tentative looks, seemingly hoping that one was going to have a change of heart. When nothing but silence followed, they all seemed to unanimously commit, dropping the red pills on their tongues and chasing them down with soda. As soon as they swallowed, I started the timer and sat back; crossing my arms across my chest with a smirk plastered to my face.

After the guys had posted the video at the gas station where Matt was talking about his idea for the sex pills, I had jokingly messaged him saying that I would gladly keep score if they really did it. Taking my message seriously, Matt had secretly gone out and grabbed three pills before inviting me over tonight. Thinking we were all just going to hangout, I was shocked when I showed up to find the pills neatly lined up on the coffee table and the three brothers pacing around the room arguing. After plenty of deliberation, Matt finally convinced Nick and Chris, and now here they were; awkwardly looking between themselves and me.

“How long do these even take to kick in?” Asked Chris, toying with the can of Pepsi in his hand. Grabbing one of the packages from the coffee table, Matt examined it for a moment. “It says thirty minutes.” He replied, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. “This is ridiculous.” Remarked Nick, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in everyone in the room. Still giggling, I stretched my legs along the couch. “Oh come on,” I whined, “Relax, get comfy, and let the games begin.”

𓆩☆𓆪

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Nick deadpanned, locking his phone and throwing it beside him. “Really?” Asked Chris, turning to face his brother. Dropping his jaw, Nick made a disgusted face. “Is it for you?” Chris smirked bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m feeling somethin’.” He replied, to which Matt and Nick both groaned. “What about you Matt?” I asked, eyeing his still-relaxed frame leaning against the couch. Jutting out his bottom lip, he shrugged. “No, nothin’.” Chris groaned beside him, and I couldn’t help but notice him adjust himself slightly. “Great, now I feel weird.” He said, grabbing a blanket and swiftly draping it across his lap. I laughed and slowly pulled myself up from the couch.

“Looks like you might end up being the loser.” I teased as I began tidying up the packages strewn around the room. “I will n-” Dropping to my knees, I collected torn up pieces of packaging that had gathered at Chris’s feet. Noticing that Chris’s words had been cut short and now the room had fallen into heavy silence, I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes — which from up close seemed glassy and dilated — were on me, his mouth open slightly from his disrupted speech, and even his breathing seemed slightly rapid as his chest rose and fell.

Noticing this, Nick threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Chris are you serious? See I knew this was a fucking horrible idea.” His sharp words pulled Chris’s eyes away from me, and he winced at his brother. “I’m sorry,” He replied, his words aimed at both Nick and myself, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.” He added, seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. I giggled nervously before pulling myself back up to my feet. “It’s okay.” I reassured him before bringing the packages to the garbage; using the short walk to recover from that oddly intense moment.

As I returned, I suddenly noticed Matt fidgeting in his place on the couch, his brows knit in what seemed to be anguish. With Nick scrolling on his phone and Chris burying his head in his hands, I seemed to be the only one noticing Matt’s sudden discomfort. I chuckled as I slid back into my seat. “You good Matt?” I asked, teasing him. His eyes shot up to mine, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Uh…yeah. All—all good.” He replied, his voice thick and slightly raspy.

Glancing down at my phone, I check the timer. It had been 32 minutes since they took the pills. I smiled gently. “Right on time.” I replied, shooting him a knowing look which just made him grow even more visibly restless. My comment grabbed the attention of Nick and Chris, and they turned to look at their rosy-cheeked brother. “You too?” Nick shouted, jumping up off of the couch. Matt grimaced, shrugging his shoulders again. “It’s not like I can control it.” He replied, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Sighing, Nick began walking towards the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?” Chris asked him. “Nothing is happening to me dumbass! And I will absolutely not be sitting around you two anymore now that you’re both bricked up.” He sassed as he began climbing the stairs. “Good luck Y/n!” He called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Looks like we’re in a 1 v 1.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. I registered the look of torment on the faces of Matt and Chris, and decided that it would be in my best interest to hold back my laughter. “Let’s see who can make it to an hour.” I added. Chris grunted as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll be lucky if I make it another five minutes.” He replied, his voice also more gruff than usual. “Aww c’mon, you can do it.” I encouraged, moving to place a reassuring hand on his knee but deciding against it. As the room fell back into silence, I could hear Matt’s heavy breathing permeated by the occasional soft whine.

Although I was trying to keep things light-hearted, their overwhelming arousal was growing more and more palpable. My wandering eyes flittered from Matt’s bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to Chris’s temple coated in a sheen of sweat. As I focused on their features, it was as though their chemically-induced lust was contagious. I began to feel my own heart pounding in my chest, and I noticed a dampness in my panties that hadn’t been there before. In that silent room, all of our desires suddenly fell in sync with one another, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“I need to go deal with this.” Chris suddenly blurted out, his voice laced with urgency as his focused eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re throwin’ in the towel?” Asked Matt, his lips curling into a smile infused with what seemed to be an odd combination of arrogance and relief. Chris winced as he tried to lean forward, nodding his head intensely. I watched in painful silence as he folded his hands together and pressed them against his plump lips, deep in thought. Very slowly, his eyes were pulled in my direction.

I froze under his gaze, the look he was giving me was worth a thousand words. My brows furrowed momentarily, instinctually denying what his eyes were asking me, before I felt my body begin to react. Heart pounding in my ears, I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs; dying for some relief. “Hey—what’s going on?” Matt’s voice infiltrated mine and Chris’s stare-down. Picking up on the shift of air in the room, his eyebrows shot up. “Chris, no! That’s not how this works.” He exclaimed, turning to face his brother. Still looking at me, a smirk pulled at the corner of Chris’s lips. “We never laid down any ground rules kid.” He replied, and I felt my throat go dry.

“Well…” Matt’s exasperated voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, who said you get to fuck her?” The words sat heavy in the air around us, the reality of the situation being verbalized for the first time. I couldn’t manage to get a single word out if I tried, nor did I have the power to pull my eyes from Chris’s heady gaze. Chris chuckled, pulling himself off of the couch before slowly beginning to walk towards me. “No one,” He began, his voice suddenly menacing, “That’s up to her.” He finished just as he stopped in front of me, his frame towering above me with his tantalizing bulge directly in my line of sight.

Very slowly, he leaned down so that we were once again face-to-face. I felt my cheeks burn red from the situation I had suddenly found myself in, and the desire was radiating off of me in pulses. “What do you say?” He asked, his dilated eyes flooded with amusement. I swallowed, trying my best to re-instate my own vocal chords. Just as I was about to squeak out a response, a mindless gasp fell from my lips as Chris ducked his head down; his face buried in my neck.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but once they opened they immediately landed on Matt’s tense figure sitting on the couch. His eyes were wide open, showing me just how badly he was suffering in that moment. The sheer need radiating from his gaze on me was infiltrating my mind, but the feeling of Chris’s warm breath dancing against my neck made it difficult for anything else to matter.

That is, until my eyes trailed down to Matt’s lap.

In between his fidgeting thighs, I saw the perfect outline of his cock. His pitiful arousal was evident in the shaded contours of his length in combination with the dark bead of pre-cum leaking through his grey sweats, letting me know that he had made the unsavoury decision of skipping on boxers. The visual of it — him being so transparently aroused while simultaneously ashamed — caused my mind to wander.

It wandered to the thought of me on my knees, wrapping my lips around his satin-skinned cock while he twitched and moaned out my name; dying to give into a release that was almost too much to handle. It wandered to the feeling of his sharp breath against my skin as he whined into my touch; bucking his hips as I teased his sensitive tip. It wandered to the idea of him taking out his insatiable hunger on my core — now slick with arousal —licking, sucking, groaning against its heat.

My silence flooded the room, and as I fought against the urge to drool at the thoughts swimming through my mind, a look of recognition flashed across Matt’s flushed face. I kept my eyes glued to him as Chris’s mouth traveled across my neck, and watched his heaving chest and white-knuckled fists at his side. His eyes — now four shades darker and twice as droopy as they usually are — were telling me a story. A story of exactly what he wanted to do to me — what he wanted me to do to him. And then — just as Chris nibbled against a particularly sensitive part of my neck and my eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, another soft whine slipped from the lips of the man watching me. The one who so clearly needed my help.

Using all my self restraint, I placed a gentle but firm hand on Chris’s chest. “I’m sorry Chris,” I spoke, feeling bad about my inability to help out both brothers. But, I knew for a fact that Chris had a much longer roster than his triplet brother, and was sure that he would be able to have someone over in less than 10 minutes to help him out. At my words, Chris released a disappointed huff of air against my skin but didn’t fight against my hand. As he stood up, I had to force my eyes away from his own visible arousal that was still within my reach.

“I wouldn’t recommend staying out here, I’m gonna get Marie to come over.” Chris grumbled, his voice still thick with arousal, before shooting his brother the middle finger and heading for the stairs leading to his bedroom. Once we were alone, the weight of the situation seemed to fill the space between us, making it difficult for me to breathe. The intensity of Matt’s gaze, never once leaving me, didn’t make things any easier — his retinas might as well have been screens playing out all of the filthy scenes that were running through both of our minds.

Forcing myself back to reality, I gathered all of my thoughts and nudged my head in the direction of his bedroom down the hall. “Should we go?” My question elicited the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple, and a curt nod of his head. On shaky legs, I stood up. He wrapped an uncertain, hovering arm around my waist and together we began walking towards his bedroom. As we walked, I felt, more than heard, his breathing grow more and more rapid; his pulse radiating from his body into my own.

Just as we passed the kitchen and entered the hallway, Matt stopped in his tracks. “Wait, Y/n,” Gently, he grabbed onto my hips and pressed me against the wall, standing in front of me with concern etched into his face. “Are you sure you’re good with this?” His question a paradox to his obvious desperation to get relief, I stifled a surprised laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I replied, amused. Still not satisfied, he continued. “I just don’t want you to think that you have to do this, I mean I got these pills as a joke and really just invited you to keep score. You’re my friend and I don’t want you to think this was my pl—”

I cut him off with a finger pressed gently to his soft lips. Although his concern was charming and even comforting to me, it was entirely unnecessary. “Matt,” I began, my voice dropped to a low whisper as I looked up at him through my eyelashes, “I’m good with this.” Tracing the tattoos on his arm slowly, I continued, “See for yourself.” His eyes scanned my face for a moment, confused, before a glint of understanding appeared. Very slowly, his eyes dropped to my lower half and wordlessly I encouraged him by widening my stance slightly. One of his hands that had been resting on my hip began toying with the waistband of my shorts, before it creeped down the front of the cotton material blindly.

As soon as his long fingers reached my slippery heat, we both released simultaneous groans. His skin was so cold against my own, and as they gently slid in between my folds it sent a delicious shiver down my spine. “God,” Matt breathed, his eyes glued to my clothed heat as though he had x-ray vision. I bit my lower lip as I fought the urge to moan from the feeling of his exploring fingers, but all restraint disappeared once he reached my throbbing bundle of nerves. As the erotic noise fell from my lips, Matt’s eyes fluttered back up to mine before he pulled my lips into a feverish kiss.

Drawing slow circles against my clit, Matt’s tongue slipped delicately into my mouth with a certain hunger I hadn’t quite experienced before. Even as I relished in the taste of him combined with the exquisite pressure he was using against my nerves, I recognized that he was holding back some of his desperation. “Like that,” I breathed against his lips, panting as he worked me into a frenzy. He released a puff of air through his nostrils in response, shifting on his feet as he struggled to keep his composure.

“S-so wet for you.” I continued egging him on, finding his resistance to let go erotic. “S-so wet.” He parroted, his breathing rapid against my swollen lips before they traveled down my jaw and onto my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as I felt his mouth toy with my delicate skin, though the feeling was cut short as he pulled his head back slightly, his breathing hot against my ear. “D-don’t love that.” He muttered, running his thumb along my neck where I was sure his brother had left dark purple bruises just moments before.

Grabbing his jaw, I gently pulled his face up so that I could lock eyes with him. His fingers were still circling my clit, so through breathy gasps I spoke, “Why don’t you plant your own somewhere else?” I watched as his face suddenly grew overcome with aching fervour, before his hands slid back to my waistband and he sunk to his knees; taking my shorts and thong down to my ankles with him. My gaze followed him to the floor, and with a slacked jaw I watched as Matt took in the sight of me exposed just inches away from him. His hands crawled back up my thighs and his thumbs brushed delicately against the silky smooth skin of my bikini line before he brought his mouth to my pelvis.

His tongue swirled against my skin in a place I was sure had never been kissed before. He groaned, the sound muffled by his suckling lips, and I felt as though I might melt away from how worshipped I felt in that moment. My skin began to grow warm under his nibbling and sucking, and my stomach flipped from the sight of the angry purple bruise he had left once his mouth began moving closer to my aching core.

Just as Matt’s nose brushed against my heat, he pulled back slightly and used his grip on my thighs to pull my legs further apart. With a look of anguished hunger, he pulled his lower lip between his teeth as his thumbs spread apart my folds; granting him an unrestricted view of the arousal dripping from my core. “Jesus,” His singular word held the weight of all of the desire radiating between the two of us, and like the snap of an elastic band, all of his self-restraint dissipated as he impulsively ran his flat tongue along my heat; causing me to cry out in ecstasy as he savoured my sweet arousal against his tastebuds.

As if he was an addict and had just had his first fix, Matt turned into someone unrecognizable with his face buried between my thighs. His fingers wrapped so tightly around my thighs that I was sure he was going to leave a bruise as his tongue flicked deliciously against my swollen bundle of nerves. “Oh god, Matt!” I cried out, lacing my fingers through his hair and pressing my heat against him desperately. He responded to my pathetic moans by throwing one of my legs around his shoulder; granting his tongue a new angle that sent shock waves down my spine.

“So fucking good.” He groaned against my cunt, his voice more hoarse than usual. His tongue slid from my bundle of nerves down to my entrance, which he circled for a moment before plunging the strong muscle into it; lapping up my juices as I struggled to stand upright. He used his tongue to fuck me, his own moans echoing through my walls as his nose simultaneously rubbed my puffy clit, and the short hallway filled with the wet sounds of my needy cunt being worked towards my impending orgasm.

“F-fuck Matt,” I whined, rolling my hips hungrily against his face, “I-I’m gonna-” Without even finishing my words, Matt grunted in approval before fumbling blindly with his sweatpants. Through hooded lids I watched in glory as Matt slipped his pants down just enough to let his veiny cock free. Without removing his working mouth, he slid two fingers in the shape of a V through my folds to collect my juices before bringing his slippery hand to his cock; stroking it in rhythm with his movements against my cunt.

My legs began to shake and my vision grew blurry from my fast-approaching orgasm, though I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Matt as he milked his cock; clearly grown too desperate to wait another moment for relief. Just as he released a throaty moan against my cunt and I felt myself begin to give in to the overwhelming pressure radiating through every nerve in my body, I froze at the sound of the front door opening.

Chris’s lucky roster pick.

Matt and I locked eyes, sharing a look of mutual anguish before he jumped to his feet. Without even bothering to get dressed, I slipped out of my discarded bottoms and silently headed for Matt’s bedroom, the heat of his own brooding frame close behind me. As soon as we were behind the closed door, Matt tried to drop to his knees once again. Although it took nearly all of the self-restraint that I held in my body, I grabbed onto his shoulders to stop him. “Matt, you’re torturing yourself.” I whispered, dropping my eyes to his throbbing cock — bright red and swollen at the tip.

He pouted, running a gentle hand through my hair. “But you taste so fuckin’ good.” He breathed out just before engulfing my lips with his own; allowing me to taste my own sweetness against his slick tongue. His hands toyed with the bottom of my shirt, tugging it gently as though asking for permission. I pulled away from his mouth, drunk from the way I tasted on him, and allowed him to slip my shirt over my head. His pleading eyes dropped to my tits, and he ran the pad of his thumb along my pebbled nipple before dropping it back down to the bundle of nerves between my legs.

“You were so close to cumming,” He added. His voice was deep yet laced with the whine of a man who needed something bad, and it numbed my mind for a second. He pressed his thumb against my clit, slowly adding more and more pressure as I bit my bottom lip. “We can cum together.” I offered, looking up at him through droopy eyelids as my stomach flipped from the thought of him inside of me at last.

That thought seemed to have been mirrored in Matt’s mind as well, because his blown out eyes grew hazy and his brows knit together in wistful lust. Taking his expression as my answer, I gestured toward his bed behind him. With a curious smirk, Matt slipped off his t-shirt and began walking backwards towards his bed; using his grip on my hips to pull me with him. As his heels reached the frame, I gently pushed him down so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Although a part of me wanted to straddle his lap and sink down onto his gorgeous cock immediately, instead of following him onto the bed I dropped onto my knees before him.

His eyes glimmered for a moment. “What are you doing?” He asked, the mild concern on his face worked paradoxically with his hands gathering my hair into a make-shift ponytail. I snaked my hands up his legs, letting them rest just centimetres away from his cock; the nearly-there contact making it jump. “Just wanna taste you too,” My seductive words caused his hands to subconsciously tighten in my hair just as I wrapped my lips around his spongey tip.

His savoury pre-cum on my tastebuds intoxicated me, and I lapped it up hungrily before bobbing my head in a rapid, but steady, rhythm. A whiney groan fell from his lips, his thighs twitched under my hands as I let his cock reach the back of my throat; swallowing around it and relishing in his needy reaction. “Mmm Y/n,” He groaned, his breath rapid as he struggled to keep his composure, “F-feels so good,” His grip in my hair was firm, as though that was what was holding him steady, but I felt his thumbs gently brush my neck in a way that was comforting to both of us.

Relaxing my throat, I pushed myself all the way down his long cock so that my nose pressed against his flexed stomach. A sharp whimper filled the room as I gargled his entire length until tears began streaming down my face, and already I felt his cock begin to swell in my throat. “Oh god baby, not g-gonna la-ast — s-so clos-se.” His words were choppy, punctuated by his rapid breathing as his body grew red from the hot arousal. Panties flooding, I took his words as motivation and swallowed his cock fervently; knowing that he had to be close to pain by how hard he was.

A chorus of sharp, rapid whines began slipping from Matt’s lips, and I felt his body begin to tremble under my touch as his balls tightened against my chin. His hips lifted from the bed in uncontrollable pleasure, and after a final, exquisite moan, I felt the warmth of his cum as his powerful orgasm washed over him. I fought the urge to gasp at the sheer amount of fluid that filled my mouth, but was pulled back by the addicting taste of him on my tongue. Greedily, I swallowed everything that he had before continuing to slowly bob my head.

Matt’s body writhed under my warm mouth, and only once he released a pathetic moan from my tongue swirling around the crest of his head did I pull back; releasing his still-hard cock with a pop. My vision was blurry from my tears, but I still managed to pull my eyes from the string of saliva dangling from his leaking cock back to his flushed face; gazing down at me in shock. “I…I’ve never finished that fast in my fucking life.” His words were laced with genuine astonishment, causing me to laugh in amusement.

“We can blame the pill,” I replied, pulling myself off of the floor and climbing on top of him on the bed. As soon as my core was level with his lap, his hands gripped firmly onto the flesh of my ass and his cock flexed against the pressure of my body. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I laughed before subtly pushing him back so that he was laying flat on the bed. “Doesn’t matter anyways, looks like you still got more in you.”

My words seemed to awaken something within him, because as soon as they left my mouth Matt flipped us over so that it was now me who was laying flat against the bed. His mouth consumed my own once again, the taste of both of our arousal now floating between our tongues. My head spun from the glorious feeling of being underneath Matt, feeling somehow so powerless yet so in tune with my own body. A gasp slipped from my lips as I felt his cock brush against my heat, the urge to be filled now growing void of any ignorance.

“You still wet?” Matt breathed against my lips, using a hand to spread my legs apart before bringing it to my sensitive core. A satisfied hum fell from his lips as he felt the warm juices of my arousal not only pooled in between my legs, but smeared all down my inner thighs from the pleasure of having him fall apart in my mouth. “Oh you’re fuckin soaked baby,” He cooed, his voice gentle against my parted lips. I writhed against his investigative fingers, needing more contact than what he was granting me by admiring just how turned on I had grown.

Growing impatient, I reached down and grabbed his sticky cock, eliciting a hiss from him as I guided it towards my needy entrance. “Jesus,” Matt groaned, overwhelmed by the confirmation of my insatiable need for him, before allowing himself to be guided by my hand. Just as I felt the head of his cock sink into the crest of my aching pussy, I let go of his shaft and relied on the fervour warmth of my walls to swallow his length.

He slid into me slowly, with anguish, and once he bottomed out guttural moans fell from both of our lips. He filled me so intensely that I felt feverish, delirious with desire. My walls welcomed him graciously, though they enveloped him so tightly I was worried he may not be able to move. Just as that thought crossed my mind, Matt pulled himself almost entirely out of me before driving his cock back down to the hilt. A gasp fell from my lips as my arms wrapped around his neck, overcome with the relief that his movements granted me.

“Holy fuck,” Matt grunted, and as I looked up at him I recognized the look of strain on his face and throughout his muscles. “You’re s-so tight.” The tensity of his voice drew a soft moan from me, and by wrapping my legs around his waist I urged him to keep moving. Recognizing my silent request, he began pumping himself into me. He started slow, though on each thrust it was as if my cunt began to stretch more and more for him until it moulded to fit him perfectly, to which he responded by going harder and faster.

The squelching sound of our bodies as they joined together provided a perfect harmony to the slurry of moans that fell from both of our lips. Matt snaked a hand around my lower back, adding a new level of pressure as he held me tight against him. I cried out as he wrapped his warm mouth against a hardened nipple, swirling his tongue around the dark pink, sensitive bud as he snapped his hips into me. “Feels…so…good…” Matt’s words were punctuated by his thrusts, and his breath tickled against my skin as he spoke into my plush breast. I mewled in response, nails turning into claws against the tense skin of his back.

“N-eeded this s-so fucking b-bad. T-thank you,” Solace was already evident in his voice, and his gratitude was enough to make my head spin. He lifted his head from my chest and placed his open mouth against my own with the intention of kissing me, but we were both so caught up in the mutual pleasure radiating through our bodies that the most we could do was breathe against one another; matching the tempos of our beating hearts. Matt’s thrusts began to grow sloppier, his breath more ragged, and the heat of our bodies came crashing down on me.

“N-need you to cum baby,” Matt groaned, slight panic and desperation laced through his tone. I released a pathetic moan, knowing I was close but could sense from his words that he was closer. “P-please Y/n, I’m — so c-close,” The trepidation was evident in his voice now, and I whined as I fought to stay on track chasing my own high. “K-keep going, just l-like that,” I purred, closing my eyes as I focused on my impending orgasm.

Matt’s hand traveled down my body in between my legs, where his thumb went to work vigorously swirling against my overstimulated bundle of nerves. Immediately, I felt myself inch closer and closer to the high I had been dying for. “F-fuck!” I cried out, my body beginning to tremble from the intensity of the oncoming waves of pleasure. “Please—Please—Please,” Matt grunted with each weakened thrust, his voice thick with untethered need as I felt his cock begin to swell inside of me; ready to erupt any minute.

Finally, after another desperate swirl along my clit in sync with a quick snap of his hips, Matt drew a long string of moans from my lips and pushed me over the edge of my teetering orgasm. Upon the first erratic pulse of my spongey walls, Matt released his own guttural moan and cried out my name before I felt his warm seed spill deep into my core. Although his body seemed to want to give in to the waves of pleasure it was experiencing, he forced his hips to continue to drive into me; helping me ride out my high as my clammy back arched off of the mattress and my legs constricted his waist. I felt the indescribable release of pressure as I squirted all along his throbbing cock and lower stomach, earning a satisfied moan from Matt as he let his eyes drop to admire the sight.

Only once our bodies began to relax and we came down from our highs did Matt halt his movements; crashing his exhausted body onto mine and burying his face in my neck. I let myself sink into the soft mattress under his comforting weight, focusing on my decreasing heart rate and the feeling of Matt’s hand running up and down my side. My eyes fluttered shut, the physical exertion draining me of all energy, and I felt us simultaneously fall into a peaceful lull as our breathing steadied.

After what could have been hours, Matt lifted his head from my neck and shot me a bashful smile. “I’m never taking one of those fucking pills again.” Laughing, I propped myself up on my elbows and smiled down at him. “So what I’m hearing is that was horrible and you hate me.” Matt scoffed, jokingly rolling his eyes. “Obviously not, Y/n. The issue is that was way too fucking good. And we’re friends. Friends can’t be dogging each other like that.” Matt ran a hand through his hair, a sign that behind his joking tone he was genuinely stressing out over what we had done.

I grabbed his tattooed arm gently, getting his attention. “Hey crazy, don’t worry. It was a one time thing caused by your little boner pill. It won’t happen again.” He sighed, rolling off of me and draping his body along the bed beside me. “Won’t happen again.” He repeated softly, staring up at the ceiling with concern still etched in his face. “Hey,” I looked down at him in amusement, “At least you feel better though, right?” Slowly, Matt turned to face me with that same flushed look he had on the couch an hour ago. Wincing, he let his gaze drop to his dick — still standing straight up in the air; red and swollen at the tip.

“One more time?”

“One more time.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[revelboo]

Do you think Tarantulas does that little feet taps some species of male tarantula spiders do to try and calm their mates into letting them mate?

The little tappy taps would just be so cute

Him gently papping the reader and thinking he’s being so sexy and calming 😂🤭

That’s so cute?! I didn’t know male tarantulas do that and it’s even better if he just starts unconsciously doing it the more reader relaxes around him and accepts him.

Disappear Pt 6

Tarantulas x Reader

• “Maybe we should practice more,” he murmurs, tapping his avatar’s fingertips nervously together as he follows behind you. Further away from the safety of his lair and into the city. His anxiety slowly increasing the closer he gets. The noise, the humans, their vehicles. A living hive moving with a strange order he doesn’t understand. Tensing as you step out of the shadow of a building and onto the sidewalk, he reluctantly follows. Expecting someone to cry out. To react, but humans walk by and ignore him like he belongs. And it’s what he wanted. A chance at a new life. To disappear among them.

• Turning to look over your shoulder and check on Tarantulas, he’s frozen in the middle of the sidewalk as people go around his avatar. “You’re doing fine,” you say grabbing his wrist and tugging to get him moving. “But don’t just stand in the way like that.” Inhaling when he interlaces his fingers with yours and allows you to pull him along. Clinging to you like you’re his safety line. “Relax. You’re doing the serial killer smile again.” And you can’t even explain to yourself why you’d stuck around except that he’d seemed so lonely and that was something you’d understood. That’s a big part of it, but not all of it. You like his quick retorts and wit, his uncertainty and sarcasm. The way he freezes and slowly taps those extra limbs on the ground when you say something that surprises him. Getting used to the creepy spider legs and mandibles and getting over the anxious fear of him. Realizing he really isn’t going to hurt you.

• Staring at your hand in his, he follows you as you point out things in store windows. Relaxed and smiling. And it’s what he’d wanted. To belong among your people. No war. No factions. But he’s not sure it’s that simple anymore. Not sure that’s all he wants. Because he’d still be alone. Among your kind, but always separate, hiding what he really is. Your hand slips out of his as you turn toward a little shop and his spark constricts in his real body hidden in his lair. Afraid that you’re going to run away. Leave him behind. Catching at the back of your shirt so you rock to a stop, he can’t let go. Doesn’t want to be alone again. To be shunned because of who he is. A freak. A monster even among his own.

• When you look back at him, he’s not moving again aside from his hand trembling where he’s clutching the back of your shirt. Maybe there are too many people? Did he get overwhelmed? Turning against him, you cup his face to tip it down toward you. “Hey, you okay, spider man?” You ask, voice soft, because people are staring now. Going around them and paying too much attention to the two of you. What happens if his avatar glitches with people watching? “Snap out of it. You’re worrying me.”

• Soft hands cupping his face. His avatar’s face. And he tips his head against yours, feeling you tense at the contact. For a disconnected moment, he’s trying to curl his extra limbs forward to touch you and they’re not there. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I think I just need a break,” he manages and you hook an arm around him. Leading him down an alley and away from the other humans. Taking care of him even though you could have run from him. Escaped. So why hadn’t you? “Thank you.” Those words so inadequate to what he wants to say to you, because the fact that you’re still here with him means so much. Doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Can’t bear it after having you around and he doesn’t just want anyone beside him. Wants you. Wants to keep you as selfish as it is and he can’t ask that of you.

Previous

[chuellas]

Thursday | T is for Temperature Play

⤷ Ft. Fyodor Dostoevsky

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, use of the name “Dear”, temp play, candle wax, fingering, orgasm denial, sacrilege, religious themes, reader grew up catholic, WC: 1.6k

A/N | Man, this woulda been so good to post on Thursday. A missed opportunity. Also I got just a weeeee bit carried away with this one sjdjkaksjajd 🙈

You let out a sharp whine when his fingers are removed from you for the fifth time now and you feel like you could burst at the seams at any moment now, but that still isn’t enough for you to admit your faults.

Fyodor was kind enough to let you roam the castle that the Decay of Angels were vacating before completely moving on to Japan for the final phases of his so-called pilgrimage. He never called it that of course, it’s what you refer to this whole plot as because you know it drives him up the wall. Most of this plan bored you to tears, but you’ve found pushing Fyodor Dostoevsky’s buttons to be peak entertainment in the mundane work you’ve been tasked with. While Nikolai was scouting and Sigma was running a whole casino in the sky, you were stuck at Fyodor’s side doing all the arranging and organizing and phone calls. You often feel like a damn secretary.

Tonight has been no different than the rest, other than you stumbling upon the Demon himself kneeling before an altar with his hands clasped, praying. You always thought that moniker was inaccurate. Fyodor wasn’t a demon, he was more akin to the first angel to fall from grace — The Devil himself. Undeniably beautiful, but with something dark lurking just beneath the surface.

You observed him for a few moments, truly caught off guard by just how beautiful the usually aloof man looked with the candlelight dancing across his relaxed features. It made him look much younger than you assume he really is. You thought again how the devil to his core was nothing more than a fallen angel. 

The peaceful atmosphere almost made you think twice about interrupting. Almost.

You didn’t outwardly interrupt at first. You entered quietly and respectfully kneeled next to the man. He didn’t even flinch at the sudden company and you almost pouted at the fact that you had such little effect on him — at least that’s what you thought. But then you notice the way his eyelashes subtly flutter when you “accidentally” brush against him. 

You smile to yourself slyly, you really hadn’t planned on bothering him tonight. Really. You were content with just exploring, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. 

Your eyes, which had previously been closed to pray along with the Russian, peeked open to eye him. It took you by surprise when you found Fyodor staring back at you, abandoning whatever prayers he had previously been reciting in his head. Your lips parted to speak but he beat you to the punch.

“I can practically hear those wheels in your head turning. I’ve been able to forgive your little…games up until now, but you’ve interrupted my time with God. I don’t think I can continue to be so forgiving, Dear.” His words had set your skin ablaze with excitement.

But now? Now you’re starting to regret interrupting him. However, you still refuse to admit to it and that’s how you find yourself with yet another denied orgasm. 

You watch with teary eyes as the man reaches over to grab one of the lit candles at the altar that’s doubling as this room's only source of light. Your pulse quickens as your foggy brain slowly puts together what Fyodor plans on doing with the candle. Another wave of excitement washes over you when the burning candles tips ever so slightly and a drop of hot wax lands on your bare stomach.

You shudder at the sensation and Fyodor watches your reaction closely, head tilted as he lets another few drops follow the first one. “Such a filthy thing you are. I must say, I wasn’t expecting a reaction like that. Are you still not ready to admit your sins?”

You’re not sure if you were meant to answer but all hope of that happening is lost when the pious man pushes his middle and ring finger into your leaking entrance. This would be number five? No. Number six. You wonder how long he’s willing to keep this up. You were sure that you could outlast him, but now? You’re doubting your own resilience. 

Fyodor’s patience has to be waning — vaguely noticing his fingers drag in and out of you at a faster pace than they had previously. 

You don’t have much time to dwell on the thought because now that he knows you’re not shy to the feeling, he pours more wax on your skin, this time on your thigh. Your head falls back and you arch off the cold ground. A strangled moan pushes its way past your lips.

The tingling on your skin from the hot wax is delicious, it’s a certain sensation that has your head going fuzzy again. “Fedya, please…”

Your plea goes ignored, he knows that you’re well aware of what he wants and that’s not it. His fingers are skilled and he works your insides like that gorgeous cello he likes to pick up and play from time to time. Plucking at your delicate walls, rubbing that sweet spot that makes you preen in his hold. 

Your mouth falls open but no noise follows, everything catching in your throat as you reach near release for the sixth time. 

And just like every other time, you’re curtly denied that sweet release. This time when your lips part a sob falls out and your whole body jerks. Your eyes are wild when you lift your head to look at the Demon himself. His eyes are dropped lazily and he wears a grin that makes your skin prickle in annoyance.

He’s enjoying this. He’s completely content with watching you squirm and cry. Suddenly you're hit with a realization that he’s expecting you to continue to fight him on admitting your fault. Banking on that stubbornness of yours to prevail and stretch this out further than it really needs to go. You think it already has and you consider finally giving in. 

Your thoughts are interrupted as you let out a hiss when more wax is poured onto your breast. You look up at Fyodor with sharp eyes as he clicks his tongue at you. “Your mind was wondering again. I wonder…Where did you go, hmm?”

His tone is light and almost teasing, something you’ve never experienced from the usually serious and intense man. That was all you needed to know that he is, in fact, having fun with you. Now you have to decide if you want to ruin this little game he’s playing, or let him have his fun. 

“My Dear, I asked you a question. It’s not polite to ignore someone.” He pours more wax on your other breast and trails it down your stomach. 

Your breath hitches again and before you can answer him, his fingers are prodding at your entrance once again. You let out a gasp when he adds a third finger. Your vision blurs and you swear you see stars. The stretch of a third finger being added is so delicious it makes every sense fuzzy. You let out a whine as your fingers dig into the antique rug laid underneath you.

“I was…Was considering giving a confession…” You let out a string of curses when his fingers speed up once again, a reaction you weren’t expecting.

You finally get it, there was no winning for you in terms of your pride. Either you stick to being stubborn and not admitting to doing anything wrong but continue to be denied any form of release or you find release at the expense of admitting to interrupting him on purpose. Either way, you were making a fool of yourself at his hands. At least if you give in you can find release.

“Were you now? How pleasant, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to this continued torture. It seemed too hard on you.” The bastard grins at you and you have half a mind to rescind your defeat, but then his thumb is brushing over your clit and you gasp at just how sensitive you are. “You grew up in a catholic orphanage, no?”

You can only muster a nod and it seems to be enough for him. “Good, then you’re familiar with the Act of Contrition prayer? Recite that correctly and I’ll give you the release I’ve been denying you for so long.”

He has to be joking. But just as you think that, his fingers slow and he gives you a pointed look as he dribbles wax across your collarbone. He’s not joking, he’s dead serious. 

Through your mind fog, you manage to stumble through the prayer, gasping every time he interrupts you with more hot wax. His own form of twisted irony for you having interrupted his worshipping hour, you’re sure. Once you utter the word “amen” Fyodor stays true to his word. His fingers quicken in pace and his thumb rubs circles into your clit.

It’s almost embarrassing how in a matter of seconds you're crying out his name and finally cumming hard after the numerous times you were denied. Your nails scratch at the rug and your body forms a high arch. Something doesn’t feel right as Fyodor continues to help you ride out your orgasm. Your hands are reaching out to claw at his arm but it’s too late, you flood his hand and the rug with your juices, squirting and making a complete mess.

Fyodor finally slows down when you go limp and clicks his tongue again. “What a mess…”

You weakly hum at his disapproval and try to sit up but he stops you. 

“No. I’m not done with you.”

[psycheetamore]

Let's begin with this: the Salk Institute. What a beauty! @littlewormgrant - take a look at that. It features in this story as a place for a PR event - yes please.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 • “Eiffel Tower” •

*** say no more, as I run to find a hiding spot to read this

Callum just laughs, unfazed. “Oh, she won’t hate it. I know exactly what she needs.” he says smoothly, his smirk widening as he hands the order over.

*** waaaaaaahhhhhh 'i know exactly what she needs' faaaaaaaackkkkkkk goddamn... 🤯

Callum practically beams, his excitement unshakable. “See? I told you, Austin! I knew she’d like it. She’s such a good girl, isn’t she?”

*** gsgahajkajdhssmlalalskkj - 3 paragraphs in and I am already destroyed

“Subtle, Callum,” Austin remarks under his breath, and that’s when you realize.

***whhahahahhsdhjakakakakaka THEY KNOW WHAT THEY ARE DOINGGGGG

Callum knows you like to be called good girl—and Austin is the one who told him.

*** fuuuuuuuuucllkkk Austin.... nice one... pfffff. How can someone survive this???

“But between the three of us,” he muses, tilting his glass slightly, “I think you’re the one making this week unforgettable.”

*** teeeheee

Your voice is strained as you moan, barely holding yourself together. He watches every reaction, every spasm of your body, every shuddering breath—knowing completely what makes you fall apart.

*** mind you... Callum was still standing at the other side of the door, flabbergasted as his friends ditched him there in the hall way with his expensive bags, only for him to need to listen through all of this...!

You’ve slowly begun to catch on that they’re planning something—you can feel it. The way Austin lets Callum push boundaries, the way Callum charms you at every chance… and the way Austin allows it all to happen.

*** delicious. Every bit of this. He knows, the other he knows. He allows it. Damn, they contemplated this.

Callum smirks. “And yet, you invite me places.”

*** higihihigiiggiigig 🤌💋 yup, true, he is a menace on the red carpet

Inside, the ambiance is even more exclusive. The Salk Institute’s brutalist architecture contrasts sharply with the elegance of the show. Spotlights cast dramatic beams over the sleek runway, the seats lined with luxury invitations perfectly arranged.

***woman... that building is pure elegance! This really is my week of people coming at my favourite architecture style. Pfffff. Just bc I can I am adding another photo here

You exhale a slow breath, your fingers tightening slightly on their shoulders for balance as Austin kneels down first, his hands trailing over your calf before he begins unbuckling one of your heels. His touch is slow and careful.

*** first.. did I read that correctly? *First*

“You guys are —so nice,” you murmur, voice slightly drunk as you look down at them.

***yes, I did... my heart just skipped a bit

Austin huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he slips the heel from your foot setting it aside. “Yeah? Keep sweet-talking us, baby.”

*** don't mind me if I do...

His free hand rests heavy on your hip, keeping you exactly where he wants as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect place over and over until your body convulses around him. “That’s it baby—give it to us.” He encourages thrusting faster.

*** focus word here being *us*... 🫠🫠🫠

They’ve planned this all along.

***🤯🫀🔥💣🥵🫦 gjgjksskkfjfnfdnndndnd I can't!!! I CANNOT - give it to me...

Austin tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip. “We’ll only do this if you want to,” he admits, his gaze flicking toward Callum briefly.

*** aaahhhh #consent for the win

“Fuck,” Callum exhales, running a hand down your thigh, his pupils blown wide. “Austin, shes perfect.”

*** nudge to the Buckies and Fuckies masterpiece, where the character of Callum also applauded her pussy... and damn, that's hot 🔥

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking lazy circles over your hips as he positions you between them. “You’re going to make both of us feel as good as we just made you feel.”

*** did I read that right??? *you*, *gonna*, *feel good*??? That's not a request... it's a promise... oh my FRICKING goooodddddd I am LOVING THISSSS

after this I just stopped registering. My mind went blank. Perhaps for the best of all of us.

Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower Eiffel Tower gnarling awwwaayyyyy

Just Between Us

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin invites Callum Turner to stay at your place for the week, but as the days pass, you begin to suspect they have something planned that they aren’t telling you. Their teasing and lingering touches build tension until, on the final night, they reveal exactly what they’ve been planning all along —both of them want you at the same time.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin +You + Callum • threesome• both focused on your pleasure •praising •sweet talk • good girl•being kissed by both • being passed between both • being used at the same time by both •fingering •clit play •nipple play • size kink • “Eiffel Tower” •oral on male • cum eating •P in V• simultaneous orgasms• cream pie •after care from both

RIP🐱 💦 Especially @aust-een @soft-mama-reads @psycheetamore @abswifey @unicoo

Just Between Us

The morning starts slow, just the way you like it. Sunlight filters through the curtains, golden and warm, stretching across the sheets as you stir awake.

The faint scent of coffee drifts from the kitchen, and when you finally push yourself out of bed, you find Austin already there, barefoot, hair still messy from sleep, an espresso in his hand as he leans lazily against the counter.

“Morning, beautiful,” he smiles, his eyes flicking up from his phone as you step into the kitchen. His voice is still heavy with sleep, rough in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You hum in response, stretching before making your way over to him. He sets his espresso down just in time to pull you against his chest pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Sleep good?” he asks.

You nod against him, relishing the warmth of his body, the way his arms wrap securely around you. “Mmm, would’ve slept better if you stayed in bed longer,” you mumble, half teasing, half serious.

Austin grins, his lips brushing over your forehead. “I tried. But I figured I’d make breakfast instead.”

He gestures toward the counter, where he’s already set out eggs, toast, and fresh fruit.

Your smile up at him lovingly and he smirks. “Go sit,” he says, nudging you toward the stool by the counter. “I’ll make you an espresso.”

You obey, watching him move around the kitchen with practiced ease. The smell of coffee fills the space, mingling with the scent of fresh toast, and for a moment, everything feels perfect—easy, familiar, yours.

“Oh,” Austin says casually, pouring steamed milk into your espresso, the delicate swirl of foam rising to the top. “Callum’s staying for a week.”

Your fork pauses mid air, your eyes snapping to him in disbelief.

“Callum Turner?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly.

Austin smirks, setting the espresso in front of you. “Yeah. Callum Turner.”

Your brain runs wild. First of all, it’s Callum Turner: British, charming, and the embodiment of effortlessly cool. Second of all, it’s Callum Turner staying in your house for a week!

“How did this happen ?” you ask, setting your fork down.

Austin grins at your enthusiasm. “Few days ago. Said he wanted a place to stay that felt more comfortable than a hotel during his visit to the U.S.”

You blink at him in disbelief still processing the information. “What made you say yes?”

Austin leans back his smirk widening seeing how invested you are in Callum’s visit, studying you as if you should already know the answer.

“It’s Callum,” he says simply, grinning as if that explains everything.

The day Callum arrives, the house feels brighter somehow. Maybe it’s his energy, or maybe it’s the way his British accent fills the air, every word of his heavy with charm.

The moment his tall imposing figure steps through the front door his face lights up.

“Austin!” He beams, stepping into the living room “It’s been ages mate. When will you learn to use your cellphone?” Callum jokes his voice a mix of sarcasm and affection.

Austin rolls his eyes but grins. “You’re here aren’t you?” he fires back, though it’s clear from his hug how much he’s missed him.

Callum looks different from the last time you’ve seen him. He’s bulked up broad shoulders, thick arms, and a confidence that radiates effortlessly. His smile is dazzling, his blue eyes magnetic, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous in his presence.

“There she is!” Callum exclaims, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you clear off the ground. His body feels solid and warm, and for a moment, you’re utterly speechless.

“Austin’s favorite little thing—he never stops going on about you y’know,” he murmurs his accent making the words sound impossibly smooth. He bounces you lightly in his arms, a playful grin on his face, before setting you down gently.

Your cheeks burn as you smooth your skirt, trying to regain composure. “It’s nice to see you too, Callum,” you manage, your voice lighter than usual your face blushing pink.

Austin raises an eyebrow at Callum. “Man-handling her already” he chides, but there’s a warmth in his voice.

Callum grins, unbothered. “She likes it don’t you love?” He says slinging his Louis Vuitton bag over his shoulder.

You quickly change subjects feeling their attention on you. “That’s a beautiful bag Callum,” you say, nodding toward it.

Callum glances back with a boyish grin. “Thanks. I’m the house ambassador now. Perks of the job,” he says casually, before disappearing down the hall with Austin leading him to the guest bedroom.

The days pass in a blur of activity. Austin and Callum fall into their old rhythm, talking about everything from filming Masters of the Air to Callum’s streak of successes. You try to stay out of their way, giving them space to catch up, but they won’t have it, insisting you join them at every opportunity.

You spend more time with them than you expect: grabbing coffee at Austin’s favorite cafe, late-night dinners downtown, and even watching movies together at night.

At the cafe, Callum insists on ordering a new drink for you, his smirk playful as he leans in. “You trust me, don’t you, love?” he grins, effortlessly.

Austin watches, amused, sipping his latte. “If she hates it, you’re drinking it.”

Callum just laughs, unfazed. “Oh, she won’t hate it. I know exactly what she needs.” he says smoothly, his smirk widening as he hands the order over.

Minutes later, the barista sets the drink in front of you a creamy espresso concoction topped with a hint of cinnamon. Callum watches you intently, his eyes glinting with anticipation as you lift the cup to your lips.

The first sip is rich, warm, the cinnamon teasing at the edges of your taste buds. You let it linger before swallowing, considering it.

“Mm it’s really good” you admit your eyes lighting up as you lick your lips.

Callum practically beams, his excitement unshakable. “See? I told you, Austin! I knew she’d like it. She’s such a good girl, isn’t she?”

His voice is smooth, teasing, the words rolling off his tongue like honey—almost as if he knows thats Austin’s secret name for you—the one that has you doing everything he says.

Austin chokes on his latte.

You whip your head toward him, watching as he hastily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His brows lift, his eyes flicking between you and Callum, his smirk unmistakable.

“Subtle, Callum,” Austin remarks under his breath, and that’s when you realize.

Callum knows you like to be called good girl—and Austin is the one who told him.

Callum grins, his gaze knowing and assessing as he looks at you. “She is a very good girl, aren’t you, love?” he teases, leaning back in his chair, enjoying the way your cheeks flush with heat at the words.

Austin’s eyes flick between the two of you, his smirk deepening as if he already knows what’s happening.

But he doesn’t say anything more—he just tilts his head slightly, as if he’s waiting to see just how far Callum will push it.

Later that week the three of you dress up and head to dinner downtown, stepping into a restaurant that radiates quiet luxury, the kind of place where celebrities frequent, the atmosphere opulent and effortlessly exclusive.

Austin walks beside you, his hand settling at the small of your back, his eyes unable to leave you. He’s been like this all evening, soft smiles, lingering glances, the kind of attention that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room.

The host leads you through the restaurant, past sleek candle lit tables, until you reach a private corner table with plush chairs, and a perfect view of the city skyline beyond the floor to ceiling windows.

You take a soft inhale, your lips parting slightly in awe as you take it all in. “Wow, this is so beautiful,” you compliment, seeing the city lights shimmering like diamonds in the distance.

Austin, pulls your chair for you, his fingertips brushing your waist as he helps you settle in. “Not as beautiful as you,” he says, his voice soft and sincere as he takes the seat beside you.

“You’re absolutely stunning tonight.” Callum adds taking his seat across the table, and you smile softly looking between them, the warmth of their attention sending a flutter through your chest.

“You two are going to make my ego unbearable,” you tease, but there’s no denying how good it feels to be adored by both of them.

As the waiter pours the first round of drinks, you settle into the moment, letting the atmosphere wrap around you as you enjoy their company.

“These past few days have been unforgettable,” you say, looking at them both. “I’ve really loved having you here, Callum. It’s been so much fun.”

Callum lifts his drink, his grin boyish and effortless. “That’s what I’m here for, love—keeping things interesting.”he teases, then he pauses, his gaze drifting over you, lingering in a way that feels both playful and intentional.

“But between the three of us,” he muses, tilting his glass slightly, “I think you’re the one making this week unforgettable.”

Austin smirks, his fingers tracing down his glass. “The truth,” he murmurs, his blue eyes flicking toward you full of mischief.

You shake your head, but the way both of them are watching you makes a warmth settle in your chest. You grin, and for a moment as you sit between them, you feel it again—that undeniable pull, the unspoken energy tangling between the three of you.

During dinner, the conversation flows effortlessly, the laughter rising between bites of perfectly plated dishes. The wine keeps coming, no ones glass is ever empty for long, and with every drink, the energy around the table becomes looser, warmer.

Austin leans back in his chair, his arm stretched casually behind you, his fingers lightly tracing over your shoulder as Callum sits across from you, already a flushed, his grin a little wider, his words a little smoother.

Callum watches you just long enough for you to notice before tilting his head smiling. “You really light up when you laugh.” He says, his voice low and easy, but there’s something beneath it—something intentional.

You feel it—the weight of their attention as if the air between you all has shifted into something deeper, unspoken. Your gaze flickers between them, Austin’s thumb grazing slow circles against your arm, Callum’s eyes never leaving yours.

Austin’s gaze lingers on you, his blue eyes darkening just slightly, something unreadable flickering behind them.

“She does, doesn’t she?” he muses, his voice smooth, teasing.

His fingers press just a little firmer against your skin as he slowly leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s effortless, intoxicating, and just when you start to drift into it, Austin pulls back only slightly, his breath warm against your lips, his gaze locked onto yours.

Callum watches, his grin lazy, almost knowing as he knocks back the rest of the drink in his glass.

By the time you arrive home, you barely have time to say “Good night Callum” before Austin is taking your hand leading you down the hall to the bedroom.

He pushes the door open with purpose, pulling you inside before kicking it shut behind him leaving Callum standing in the hall.

Austin’s is firm and unyielding as his body presses flush against yours and his mouth claims yours with urgency.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are devouring you, his hands already tugging at the straps of your dress.

With one swift motion, he pulls it down your shoulders, his fingers trailing hot against your skin, as it falls to the floor leaving you in only lace panties.

His eyes drink you in, dark and hungry, his breath shallow and heated as his fingertips trace over your hips before gripping them possessively.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pants his voice tense with need and before you can react, he’s guiding you back, your legs feeling the edge of the bed as his takes you down onto it.

He settles at your waist his hands spreading your thighs apart, his weight pinning you just enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down in one swift motion, his breath hot against your skin.

The first flick of his tongue sends a jolt through you, pleasure striking fast, your back arching instantly.

“Austin!” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as the heat coils deep inside you, sharp and undeniable.

He doesn’t ease you into it—he devours you with intensity driven on every intent to wreck you.

His tongue moves in deep torturous strokes, teasing, pressing harder, curling, sucking, his mouth sealing over you as if he can’t get enough.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as you try to move—but there’s nowhere to go, no escape from the relentless onslaught of his tongue diving into you.

Your head falls back as you moan loudly, your body desperate, trembling as the pleasure coils tighter, sharper. He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and your cries spill freely, breathless and needy.

He feels it—how close you are, how you’re teetering on the brink,and he only pushes harder, flicking his tongue faster, sucking deeper, his fingers digging into your skin as he pushes you over the edge.

And when you finally break, when your body shatters against his mouth, you moan his name as he rides out each wave, lapping up every bit of your arousal, dragging your pleasure higher, deeper, until you’re nothing but a trembling, mess beneath him.

He doesn’t waste a second as you lay there, breathless, he’s already undoing his belt, his movements urgent, almost frantic.

He shoves his pants down, unbuttoning his shirt in a rush, the fabric falling to the floor as he climbs over you, his body pressing on yours instantly.

His lips find your neck in hot open-mouthed kisses, his breath ragged against your skin as he sucks harder, deeper creating a bruise. You can feel his cock, thick and hard, pulsing with need, and before you can catch your breath, he grips your hips and pushes in to you all at once.

The shock of fullness has you gasping, your back arching, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

“Austin!” you cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden depth feeling the sheer intensity of him inside you.

He lifts his head his blue eyes burning into yours, his jaw tight as he restrains himself.

“Say my name,” he commands,his voice rough with need.

“Austin” you moan for him, and he pushes forward in deep, deliberate strokes, his hips pressing flush against you, his body pinning you in place. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, doesn’t ease you into it—he just wants to feel you come for him.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling them apart wider as he drives deeper, his rhythm unrelenting. Moans spill from your lips over and over again, the pleasure building too sharp, too fast.

He tilts your hips, angling just right, his hips snapping, every thrust sending white-hot surges of pleasure ripping through you.

His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles.

“That’s it…baby…give it to me. Let me hear you …come.” He says his voice breathless with need.

Your voice is strained as you moan, barely holding yourself together. He watches every reaction, every spasm of your body, every shuddering breath—knowing completely what makes you fall apart.

And then it happens.

The tension inside you breaks the pleasure crashing over you in a surging waves, your body clenching tightly around his cock, your moans breaking into something raw, uncontrolled.

Austin groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as he fights through your release, enduring it, dragging it out, his thrusts harder, faster, his name still spilling from your lips, exactly how he wanted.

With a firm deep thrust, he comes, his abs pulling up, his moans breaking into breathless pants. His release pulses deep inside of you, his body rocking helplessly against you as he shudders through the overwhelming pleasure.

His breath is hot against your skin, his hips grinding slower, deeper, anchoring himself to you as his moans spill freely feeling the last waves of his climax overtake him.

When it’s finally over, when your body lays trembling beneath him, he doesn’t move instead, he strokes your face, his fingers tracing softly over your heated skin.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, his gaze searching yours, as his touch drifts lower, tracing over the curve of your jaw. “I love you” he says breathlessly.

You smile up at him stroking his jaw affectionately. “I love you too,” you pant, still catching your breath.

Austin exhales slowly, his fingers trailing through your hair, his eyes holding something deep, something unspoken. “There’s so much I want to give you,” he reveals, his voice low and thoughtful.

You blink up at him, sensing a shift, the weight of his words settling between you. “You already do,” you whisper, brushing your lips softly against his, completely unaware of the thoughts running through his mind as you kiss him.

The following night, you and Austin decide to make Callum’s favorite meal—shepherd’s pie and roasted vegetables. The kitchen fills with warmth, the rich aroma of roasted herbs and butter drifting through the air as the two of you work together, laughing and moving easily around each other.

When you finally set the dish in front of Callum, his face lights up, eyes gleaming under the soft glow of the dining room lights. “You’ve outdone yourselves,” he says, raising a glass to you both. “I might never leave.”

Austin grins, cutting into his meal. “You say that, but I know you’d miss London too much.”

“Maybe,” Callum muses, looking at you over the rim of his glass before taking a slow sip. “But I’m starting to see the appeal of staying in America.”

You glance at Austin, but he just smirks, his eyes flicking between the two of you before taking another bite.

“You know, Austin never stops talking about you when you’re apart,” Callum teases, his voice smooth, effortlessly confident.

“Really?” you grin, turning to Austin, who suddenly seems more interested in his plate as his cheeks tinge pink.

“Oh yeah,” Callum nods, his tone both playful and sincere. “Took me a while to realize he wasn’t exaggerating.”

A heat creeps up your face at his words, the air between you shifting, charged with something you can’t quite define—but Austin only grins as if this is all wildly amusing to him.

After dinner, the three of you settle into the living room, the soft glow of the film The Beach flickering across the screen, casting warm, golden shadows around the room.

You sit between them, nestled against Austin’s side, his arm draped around you absentminded tracing circles along your shoulder, as Callum sprawls out on your other, completely at ease watching the film.

Callum leans back, stretching an arm across the cushions behind you, his gaze flicking toward you with a smirk.

��Alright, be honest,” he muses his voice teasing, “Who do you think would take better care of you on a deserted island like that? Me or Austin?”

Austin exhales a quiet sigh, shaking his head, his voice smooth and knowing. “Callum, you’re setting yourself up.”

Callum grins wider. “No, I really want to hear the answer from her.”

You glance between them, your stomach flipping under the weight of their attention. “Austin,” you say, smiling, and he pulls you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple, his smirk deepening.

Callum laughs, undeterred. “Think about it though love. Who’s more resourceful? Hunting, gathering, building a shelter?…”

Austin grins in amusement, his blue eyes flickering with something more knowing. “Why would we compete to take care of her? He discerns, his tone suggestive. “When we could work together?”

Callum chuckles in approval. “What, like a survival throuple?”

Austin grins. “Exactly, now you’re getting it.”

You roll your eyes shaking your head, but the way both of them begin to look at you,sends a flutter through your stomach.

You’ve slowly begun to catch on that they’re planning something—you can feel it. The way Austin lets Callum push boundaries, the way Callum charms you at every chance… and the way Austin allows it all to happen.

On the final day of the visit you stand in front of the living room mirror, checking your out fit one last time, ready to head out for the night.

Callum, sits sprawled out on the couch, watching you with an easy grin, his eyes lingering , slow and easy, taking in every detail.

“You’re far too pretty to put up with Austin’s moods,” Callum teases as Austin groans, unable to find his favorite leather jacket.

You smile, brushing it off, but Callum’s confidence is unshakable.

“You know,” he leans forward, his voice dropping just enough to be enticing “If he gets into a really bad mood tonight, we can sneak off together, teach him a lesson for behaving that’ll make him never forget his manners.”

You shake your head grinning “You think you're the one to teach Austin a lesson on misbehaving ?” You counter.

Callum grins, slow and teasing. “Mmm I’d be so good at it.” He confirms.

You roll your eyes just as Austin finally finds his jacket, holding it up with a triumphant sigh.

“You two over there conspiring against me now?” he says, shrugging it on as he looks between you both.

“Maybe,” Callum muses, standing up and pulling the hem of his shirt.

Austin ignores him, adjusting the collar of his jacket with an exaggerated sigh. ��Great. Now let’s get this over with.”

“The infamous Luis Vuitton Cruise show ” Callum muses, his grin widening.

Austin groans dramatically, already dreading it. “A high-end fashion event with nothing but paparazzi, practiced conversation, and people getting really into bizarre shit.” He exhales sharply.

Callum grins, completely at ease. “Oh, Austin I love that shit.” He confirms.

Austin shoots him a look breaking into a grin. “Of course you do.”

You smile enjoying their banter, and before you know it, Callum’s arm drapes around your shoulder smug and easy. “All I’m saying is, if Austin gets too grumpy during this, we can still sneak off together, yeah?” he says, his smile infectious.

You glance at Austin, waiting for his reaction but he just smirks, shaking his head as he grabs his phone. “You two are trouble.” He says, his voice amused.

The three of you step out of the car onto the stone entryway of the Salk Institute in La Jolla, the air crisp with ocean breeze, the sky streaked with hues of deep blue and gold as the sun begins to set.

The Louis Vuitton Cruise Show looms ahead, sleek and sophisticated, with floodlights illuminating the brutalist architecture, casting long, dramatic shadows over the crowd of fashion elites.

The atmosphere is filled with exclusivity, flashes from photographers, murmurs of stylists, and the ever-present hum of curated perfection.

Austin walks on your right, his fingers casually grazing your lower back as Callum stays on your left, looking effortlessly charming in his suit and tee, already scanning the scene with a knowing smirk.

You feel stunning, the pleated mini skirt Austin bought for you weeks ago moves with every step you take. Paired with your heels and a sleek top, you know you’ll turns heads the moment you step onto the scene especially with two handsome gentlemen escorting you.

And if you weren’t sure of it—Austin and Callum make it painfully obvious.

Callum’s eyes wander over your legs as he shakes his head. “You sure you want to take her in there, Austin?” he muses. “You’ll have to fight off half the room.”

Austin doesn’t even try to hide his smirk, but his gaze flicks down to your skirt again. He hasn’t stopped looking at it since you got in the car. And the way his eyes darken slightly tells you everything you need to know.

“She can do whatever she likes,” Austin muses, smoothly taking your hand in his. “Not my fault if people get distracted.”

Callum scoffs, tilting his head. “Austin you’re distracted.”

Austin huffs a short laugh, but doesn’t deny it.

As you approach the red carpet, your stomach flutters with anxiety, your pulse hammering in your ears.

The flashes of cameras are blinding, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and chatter, as celebrities and fashion elites move through the entryway.

Austin’s fingers tighten briefly in your hand, a silent reassurance, while Callum is at your side, adjusting the cuffs of his suit, looking completely at ease.

The photographers begin to call out, their voices overlapping—

“Austin! Over here!” “Look this way!” “Callum, give us a smile!”

You and Austin take the first set of photos together, his hand warm against your waist, his charisma in full effect.

He’s done this a thousand times before, his look effortless, and when he glances at you between flashes, there’s something else in his expression that shows his adoration for you.

Next, Callum steps up for his solo shots, his grin turning cheeky as he shifts between serious and playful poses. The energy around him shifts, he’s charming without trying, flashing a wink here, adjusting his stance there.

Finally, the three of you are called together, and Callum immediately changes the tone, stepping between you and Austin with an exaggerated flourish, wrapping an arm around both of you.

“C’mon, let’s give them a show,” he teases, leaning in slightly.

Austin shakes his head, clearly entertained. “You’re a menace.”

Callum smirks. “And yet, you invite me places.”

With one last series of flashes, the photographers thank you, and you step off the red carpet, the moment settling in.

Inside, the ambiance is even more exclusive. The Salk Institute’s brutalist architecture contrasts sharply with the elegance of the show. Spotlights cast dramatic beams over the sleek runway, the seats lined with luxury invitations perfectly arranged.

The three of you take your seats front row, surrounded by other celebrities, designers, and fashion insiders.

As the show starts, the Louis Vuitton Collection is displayed with sharp, avant garde silhouettes, intricate embroidery, and flowing structured fabrics.

Models strut confidently along the minimalist runway, the music pulsating through the space.

Champagne flutes appear before you, served on silver trays, and you quickly realize, you won’t have an empty glass the entire night.

Austin sits beside you, his arms resting across his chest, his legs crossed. He occasionally leans in, speaking softly against your ear, small remarks about the designs, the lighting, the people around you.

Callum is thoroughly enjoying himself. He sips his champagne slowly, watching the show with genuine appreciation, occasionally gesturing toward a look he likes. At one point, he nudges you, whispering, “That one, I could easily see you in that one.”

You roll your eyes but smile feeling a warmth spreading through your chest.

Between the rich ambiance, endless flow of champagne, and the presence of both men beside you, you can’t help but feel it—tonight is the beginning of something.

And by the way Austin keeps glancing toward you, and Callum’s smirk lingers just a second too long, you know they feel it too.

After the show when you arrive back home, the three of you step into the house, the cool air inside a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of the night.

The Louis Vuitton show had been an experience, intoxicating in more ways than one.

The endless champagne, the flashing cameras, the whispered conversations with designers and celebrities. And now, as you sway slightly in the dimly lit entryway, you realize just how much champagne you had.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips as you reach out, steadying yourself by placing a hand on Austin and Callum’s shoulders.

Austin smirks, catching the movement instantly. “Someone’s had a little too much fun tonight,” he says, his hands instinctively coming to your waist, steadying you.

Callum chuckles, his tone more matter of fact.“Or just too much champagne,” he teases, his eyes flicking over to Austin.

You exhale a slow breath, your fingers tightening slightly on their shoulders for balance as Austin kneels down first, his hands trailing over your calf before he begins unbuckling one of your heels. His touch is slow and careful.

Callum follows suit, kneeling on the other side, his fingers easily working on the strap of your other heel. His thumb grazing along the inside of your ankle.

“You guys are —so nice,” you murmur, voice slightly drunk as you look down at them.

Austin huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he slips the heel from your foot setting it aside. “Yeah? Keep sweet-talking us, baby.”

Callum smirks up at you, his fingers lingering against your skin a second too long, tilting his head slightly as he slides the second heel off.

Your cheeks burn under their attention, and you suddenly feel very aware of how intimate this is. The two of them kneeled before you, their hands on your legs, the air between you thick with something else.

Austin rises first, standing close, his hands smoothing up your sides, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You okay, baby?” he asks, his voice low, intimate, a quiet promise lingering in the way he looks at you.

Callum follows, standing beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

They exchange a look—something silent, something intentional.

Your breath catches as you glance between them, the air in the entryway suddenly heavy, pressing in from all sides. The space feels smaller, the air charged under the weight of their attention.

“I’m okay,” you manage, though your voice is softer now, breathier.

Austin tilts his head, studying you, his gaze dropping to your lips then slowly he leans in and kisses you, his lips warm and soft, tasting faintly of champagne.

The moment Austin’s hand slides down your back, you feel Callum’s touch.

His fingers ghost along your waist, his breath warm at your neck before he presses his lips on you too, the contrast of them sending a surge of pleasure through you so impossibly good it feels sinful.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips, your body pressed between them as they move in unison—Austin claiming your lips, Callum kissing down your neck.

Austin’s hand roams lower, slipping past the waistband of your skirt, the heat of his palm pressing firmly between your legs.

He takes his time, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate pressure, teasing your clit through the fabric. He watches you closely, his lips hovering over yours, waiting for your reaction.

Your breath hitches, your body softening at the sensation, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

His hand slips into your panties, his fingers sliding over your slickness finding you completely soaked, your wetness coating his fingertips as he groans softly against your lips

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze darkened as he easily pushes his fingers inside of you, watching every catch of your breath, every shiver that rolls through your body.

Your lips part in a soft moan feeling the press of his knuckles as his fingers settle deep inside, the pleasure immediate, undeniable.

The sound catches Callum’s attention, and he pulls back just enough to see your reaction.

Austin’s fingers move in slow, precise thrusts within you, his lips brushing against yours as he kisses you again.

Callum’s hands moves to your top pulling down the hem, his hand gliding over your chest before moving lower and cupping your breast firmly.

His mouth is hot against your skin as he lowers his head, his tongue flicking your nipple, drawing sharp gasps from you.

You barely have time to react before he draws your nipple into his mouth his tongue circling it with firm strokes.

Your breath stutters, your knees nearly buckling as Austin works you open from below while Callum takes his time above, both of them completely in sync, completely focused on you.

Your fingers grip onto Austin’s shoulders, then Callum’s hair, needing to hold onto something as pleasure swells inside you, making you weak.

You try to stay upright, but with every touch, every kiss, every press of their hands and mouths—standing becomes impossible.

Your knees tremble, thighs clenching around Austin’s hand as his fingers thrust deeper, slick with evidence of just how easily you’re surrendering to them.

Callum hums against your chest, his lips sucking your nipple firmer as his tongue rolls in slow, deliberate strokes. He groans as he sucks, pulling with greedy satisfaction, his teeth grazing just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure down your spine.

The sensation coils tightly inside you, winding you up, making your breath hitch in soft, helpless little gasps.

Austin watches you intently, his blue eyes dark, focused, enthralled by every shudder, every whimper slipping from your lips.

His free hand rests heavy on your hip, keeping you exactly where he wants as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect place over and over until your body convulses around him. “That’s it baby—give it to us.” He encourages thrusting faster.

Your moan is barely a sound, more of a breathless, strangled cry as the pleasure crashes over you. Your thighs squeeze around Austin’s wrist, your body locking up as your orgasm tears through you. Callum pulls back just enough to watch, his lips parting as he sees how helpless you are.

“Just, look at her,” Callum breathes, his fingers sliding up your side as he takes in the way you tremble, your body consumed with pleasure. “She looks so fucking pretty when she comes.”

Austin slows the movement of his hand, dragging out every last moment before withdrawing his fingers now glistening.

He lifts them to your lips, watching as you part instinctively, tasting yourself on them.

“Good girl,” Austin praises, his voice smooth as he brushes his thumb against your lower lip, his eyes dark with intent.

Then he glances over at Callum, something unspoken passing between them before his gaze returns to you, heavy and full of meaning.

“Come to bed,” he says to both of you, his voice low and certain.

Your eyes widen, flicking to Callum, whose smirk deepens with knowing amusement as Austin offers you his hand.

Callum watches, waiting for you to decide—waiting for you to step into whatever comes next.

And as your fingers slide into Austin’s palm, Callum’s hand grazes the small of your back, the three of you heading to the bedroom together as you realize—

They’ve planned this all along.

Austin guides you and in and Callum closes the door behind you knowing this is exactly what they have been waiting for.

The bed dips on either side as the three of you lay down together.

The warmth of them surrounds you as Austin places a soft kiss on your left wrist and Callum presses against your right side trailing his lips along the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

The room is dim, but the heat between the three of you is undeniable. Austin’s hand trails along your arm, his touch slow and delicate, as Callum,breathes against you, his lips grazing your jawline.

“Relax for us baby,” Austin says, his voice low and steady.

Callum’s voice follows, softer, teasing. “We’ve been waiting all week for this,” he admits, his fingers tracing the back of your hand. “Tell us you want this too.”

Your heart races, your body humming with anticipation as you glance between them. Austin’s eyes are filled with something intuitive, something reassuring, but Callum’s are far darker, searching, waiting.

Austin tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip. “We’ll only do this if you want to,” he admits, his gaze flicking toward Callum briefly.

Your breath is shallow, lips parting instinctively as your gaze shifts between them. “I—” Your voice catches, the reality of the moment crashing over you. “I want this”

Austin grins kissing you immediately, his lips pressing against yours with a reassurance that melts away any hesitation.

Then you feel Callum, impossibly close his breath ghosts over your cheek before Austin pulls back just enough to let Callum’s lips linger near yours.

Callum hesitates, watching you, as if waiting for permission. Austin smirks slightly, his voice playful but firm. “She’s already thinking about it.” He says.

Callum doesn’t need to be told twice, his lips collide with yours, different from Austin, hungrier, firmer, coaxing. The contrast between them sends a shiver down your spine, and when Austin’s lips move to your neck, your mind blanks completely.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” Callum murmurs against your lips, his accent thick and rough. His hand settles on your waist, fingers curling slightly. “Knew you’d be trouble.”

Austin chuckles against your skin. “She’s the best kind of trouble.” He says as his lips press just below your ear. “And now she’s ours.”

Callum’s hand slides over your waist, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. “I want to see all of you.” He says.

Austin’s fingers brush your cheek before trailing down your collarbone, his voice a low murmur against your skin. “Let’s get you out of this, baby.” He says hooking his fingers under the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion, the fabric slipping away effortlessly, leaving your skin bare to them.

Austins hands drift lower, tracing the curve of your waist before finding the hem of your pleated mini skirt. His fingers hook beneath the fabric, and with one fluid motion, he tugs down your panties and skirt together, the soft material gliding over your hip and down your thighs until it’s tossed aside.

Austin gaze darken as he takes you in and Callum leans back slightly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you filled with lust.

“Fuck,” Callum exhales, running a hand down your thigh, his pupils blown wide. “Austin, shes perfect.”

Austin smirks, his hands sliding down your sides. “I know” he says.

Callum’s hands join Austin’s, his touch unfamiliar but electrifying as he traces along your ribcage. You shiver under their attention, the feeling of four hands exploring your skin leaving you breathless.

Your hands reach for them instinctively, finding the hem of Callum’s shirt first. You slide it up, and he grins, before tugging it over his head.

The moment his chest is exposed, your breath catches—he’s even more defined than you expected, strong and solid, his skin warm under your fingertips. You run your hands over his broad shoulders, his muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Austin, pulls his own shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Your eyes flick between them, your hands touching both of them instinctively trailing over the contrast—Austin’s familiar, muscular form and Callum’s broader, slightly rougher build. Your fingers explore the dips and lines of their chests, the heat of them making your head spin.

“Do you like this?” Austin teases, his lips brushing your ear as his hands slide down your arm.

Callum smirks, watching your stunned reaction. “I think she does.” His voice dips lower as his fingers tilt your chin up.“But I want to hear you say it.”

Your lips part, your body already trembling under their attention. “I love it,” you whisper, your fingers pressing into their skin. “I love everything about this.”

Austin’s mouth lowers onto yours as Callum’s lips find the soft spot just below your jaw, and as their hands move over you, exploring, claiming, you realize just how much they’ve been waiting for this, and just how much you want it, too.

Callum moves closer, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. His large hands start at your waist, his thumbs pressing into the dips of your hips before slowly gliding upward, exploring the curves of your ribs and the soft swell of your breasts.

His palms are rougher than Austin’s, his touch more possessive, his fingers kneading teasingly. “You’re so soft,” he whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasp against Austin’s lips as Callum’s fingers roll over your nipples, pinching lightly, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure shooting through you.

Austin smirks against your mouth, feeling the way you react. “You like this so much don’t you?” he teases, and you nod as his hand slides up, cupping your other breast firmly. The hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh telling you just how much he’s enjoying this too.

Callum’s hand moves lower, tracing over your hip, his fingertips skimming the space between your thighs. You whimper as he parts your legs slightly, his fingertips grazing against your heat.

“Fuck, she’s already so wet,” he groans, his voice laced with both awe and satisfaction.

He strokes slowly, gathering your arousal on his fingers then spreading it over your swollen clit in teasing circles.

Austin pulls back slightly, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, filled with lust as he watches you tremble between them. “You feel good baby?” he asks softly, his thumbs stroking your chin.

Your breath is shallow, your body humming with pleasure as Callum continues to tease you. “Yes,” you gasp “I’m so good.”

Austin grins, his lips brushing over yours before he moves lower, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your nipple.

Callum, presses his hard cock against your hip, his lips warm and teasing as he leans in to kiss you passionately. His fingers between your legs move with more purpose, pressing into you just enough to make you whimper.

“Listen to her,” Callum groans, his lips curling into a smirk against yours. “She sounds so fucking pretty when she moans.”

Austin grins, his tongue swirling around your nipple lightly. “That’s because she’s perfect,” he says, his voice vibrating against your skin.

Callum groans in agreement, his hand tightening on your waist as his fingers stroke deeper, each touch making you tremble more.

“She’s ours tonight.” Callum says as his fingers move with agonizing precision, his strokes slow and deliberate as he spreads your slickness over your sensitive clit before sliding down, teasing your entrance.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, “You’re so fucking wet you’re dripping for us.” His tone is dark, edged with satisfaction as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them just right, pressing against a spot that makes your whole body spasm.

Austin hums against your skin at your reaction, his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking lightly before flicking his tongue over the hardness of the peak.

His free hand cups your other breast, kneading gently, his thumb rolling over your hardened nipple. His movements are slow, sensual, designed to draw every reaction out of you as he teases and torments, alternating between soft licks and firmer sucks.

Callum’s fingers work you open, his pace maddeningly steady, stroking deep, curling inside you with every thrust. His lips trace the line of your jaw as his fingers press against the perfect spot that has you falling apart as your hips writhe in pleasure . “I can feel you clenching around me. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You nod panting as your hips roll instinctively against his hand. As you begin to moan loudly Austin pulls away just enough to watch your face, his lips glistening as he grins in satisfaction. “She’s going to come.” He confirms.

Callum chuckles against your skin, as his fingers thrust deeper, his thumb pressing circles over your clit. “Come on, love,” he coaxes, his voice husky, his breath fanning against your cheek. “Let go for us. Let us see you come.”

Austin’s mouth closes around your nipple again sucking harder as his teeth nip lightly on the sensitive peak sending another surge of pleasure straight to your core.

The combined sensations are too much—Callum’s relentless fingers working inside you, Austin’s warm, wet mouth sucking your nipple, the deep, commanding sounds of their voices unraveling every last thread of your restraint.

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting like a wave as a choked gasp escapes your lips.

Your thighs tremble as you orgasm your body shuddering from the intensity. “That’s it love,” Callum groans, his fingers not letting up, working you through every last tremor. “So fucking beautiful.”

Austin watches you with dark, hungry eyes, his mouth leaving your nipple to press hot kisses up your throat. “So perfect, baby,” he murmurs, soothing you as your body trembles between them.

Callum slows his movements, his fingers slipping out of you with a satisfied hum. He brings them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licks them clean. “You taste incredible,” he praises, his expression full of sinful delight.

Austin smirks, kissing your lips softly, his voice full of pride. “And we’re just getting started.”

Austin presses one last lingering kiss against your lips before guiding you up gently, his hands on your waist as he shifts you to kneel in the middle of the bed between them.

Your body is still trembling from the pleasure they’ve already given you, your mind hazy, dizzy with arousal as Austin’s voice, low and firm, pulls you back into focus.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking lazy circles over your hips as he positions you between them. “You’re going to make both of us feel as good as we just made you feel.”

You’re delirious with pleasure, as they leave the bed to undress your body humming with heat as you watch them, unable to form words.

They’re movement are hypnotic as they pull off their pants and boxers.

Austin body is sculpted, carved from years of dedication, his smooth skin taut over his defined muscles. His cock stands thick and firm, flushed a deep, eager pink, the tip already glistening with precum. Hes impossibly hard, the veins along his shaft prominent and pulsing with need.

Callum, in contrast, is built broader, his chest and shoulders more solid, his thighs thick and powerful. His cock is darker, a shade richer against his paler skin, with a heavy weight to it, the curve of it distinct as he strokes himself, his grip tight.

They stand before you, both, naked both hard, both utterly focused on you. The air is charged with heat and anticipation, the weight of the moment settling in your chest as your thighs press together instinctively and Austin smirks catching the movement.

“You like what you see, baby?” He says as he kneels beside you on the bed, his fingers grazing along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

Callum chuckles lowly, his voice teasing as he settles on the other side of you, his body radiating heat.

“She definitely does,” he muses, his smirk widening. “You can see it all over her face.”

Austin runs his hand down the curve of your back, his touch soothing. “You look so fucking perfect like this,” he praises and as Callum touches you too they both trail their hands lower taking turns to glide their fingers through your wetness, spreading your arousal with slow, teasing strokes.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Callum as he tilts your chin up and kisses you hard, his lips demanding, his tongue slipping past your teeth with a hunger that makes your knees weak.

Callum brings his fingers slick with your arousal back around his cock, stroking himself firmly as he groans into your mouth.

Austin, hums at the sight, his fingers still sliding through your slickness, rubbing slow, teasing circles against your clit before slipping two fingers inside you again. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice thick with lust. “You’re dripping down your thighs.”

Callum breaks the kiss just enough to smirk, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “She’s ready for us,” he grins, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with heat and anticipation. “Aren’t you,love?”

You nod, breathless, barely able to think past the heat racing through your core.

Callum strokes his heavy cock harder his eyes watching you with a dark, knowing smirk. “You ready for me, love?” he asks, his accent making the words sound even filthier.

You nod and he grips the base of his cock, holding it steady as Austin slips his fingers from you to hold your waist. “Show us, baby,” he urges, his voice full of command and affection. “Make Callum feel just as good as you feel.”

Austin lowers you onto your hands and knees, your body still trembling from their touch, the heat between you all heavy with anticipation.

Callum smirks, his grip tightening around the base of his cock as he pulls your face closer. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs guiding his cock closer to your lips.

Austin moves behind you, his hands sliding down your back, guiding you into position as he kneels behind you on the bed.

“That’s it, baby,” Austin murmurs, his voice laced with praise as he runs his hands over the curve of your hips, gripping them firmly. “You’re gonna take us both so well.”

Callum’s fingers tilt your chin up, his smirk deepening as he watches the way you kneel waiting for them. “Open up for me, love,” he says, with intent. “Let me feel that pretty mouth of yours.”

You obey, your lips parting and slowly he pushes the head of his cock in, warm and wet as your lips wrap around it.

Your tongue swirls around the tip before your cheeks hallow and you take him deeper. Callum lets out a satisfied groan, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides you, his grip firm.

“Fuck, that’s perfect,” he breathes, his hips barely rolling forward as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Behind you, Austin squeezes your hip as he rubs his tip along your slick entrance, teasing you, making you whimper around Callum’s cock the vibrations sending a shudder through him.

“She likes it,” Austin reveals, rubbing his cock against you again, coating himself in your arousal. “You’re so fucking ready for us aren’t you, baby.”

You moan softly, pushing back against him, desperate for more, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. Austin presses forward, his thick cock stretching you slowly, filling you inch by inch until he’s buried deep inside you.

A moan escapes you, overwhelmed by sensation of being taken by both of them.

“That’s my girl” Austin groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he begins to move, thrusting slow and deep, his cock hitting all the right places with every roll of his hips.

Callum watches the way your eyes flutter, the way you moan around his cock as you work him with slow, eager sucks. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his voice filled with pleasure. “Taking both of us like a dream.”

The rhythm between the two of them builds, the room filled with the sound of their heavy breaths, low groans, and the wet, lewd sounds of them fucking you at both ends.

Austin’s thrusts grow deeper, more intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives into you.

Callum’s hand remains tangled in your hair, his hips rolling as he matches the pace of Austin, his pleasure evident in every deep, guttural moan he lets out.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Austin praises, his hands sliding up your back, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts into you harder. “So tight—so fucking wet for us.”

Callum groans, his voice low and strained. “She loves this,” he breathes, his grip on your hair tightening as his hips jerk forward. “She’s so desperate for our come, aren’t you, love?”

You whimper around him, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, your body shared between them as wave after wave of ecstasy roll through you.

Every movement, every thrust, every deep groan sends you spiraling further into bliss, your mind hazy, consumed by nothing but the way they both feel inside you, the way they own every inch of you.

Austin pace becomes unrelenting, his cock hitting the deepest, most perfect spot inside you with every thrust as you moan around Callum in bliss.

“Come for us baby,” Austin groans as his hand finds your swollen throbbing clit. “Make us all come.”

His fingers press in slow, relentless circles, amplifying the pleasure coursing through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, your walls tightening on Austin’s cock as your moans vibrate on Callum’s.

Both of their hips stutter forward, Callum’s grip tightening in your hair as he groans dangerously close to spilling over.

Your pleasure peaks as your body clenches tight, every muscle tensing as your orgasm crashes over you, forcing a strangled moan in your mouth around Callum’s cock.

The sensation is too much, too perfect, and Austin groans deeply, his thrusts faltering as he feels your wall tighten around him.

Your nails dig into the sheets being thrust hard between both of them as they use you to come, your mind blanking with nothing more than the overwhelming sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” Austin groans, his hands digging into your hips as he drives into you hard spilling inside you with a guttural moan.

Callum watches you, feeling the way you moan in pleasure as Austin come inside you and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge.

His grip on your hair tightens, his body tensing as he lets out a deep, strained groan, his release thick and hot as he holds you in place and spills into your mouth feeling you swallow around his cock taking every last drop.

They both pull out of you at the same time, the room filled with nothing but heavy breathing, the three of you completely consumed by each other.

Austin lifts you back against him, his strong arms wrapping around you as his lips trail lingering, soft kisses along your neck.

His hands move lower to grip your hips, grounding you as his thumbs gently caresses slow, soothing circles over your skin, easing the trembling aftershocks still coursing through your body.

Callum leans in his breath still uneven as he brushes his lips over your jaw. “Took everything we gave you like you were made for us.” he whispers, his fingers sliding through your hair as he places a soft kiss.

“You were so fucking perfect, baby,” Austin whispers, his voice low and full of praise.

Callum smirks as he lays back against the pillows, his chest still heaving. Your body trembles, completely spent, your breath still coming in short, uneven gasps as Austin lowers you on the bed.

Every muscle in your body is weak, pleasure still pulsing through you in slow, rolling waves. Austin pulls you into his arms, his strong embrace wrapping around you.

His lips find your ear first, warm and soft, whispering against your skin. “You were incredible,” he praises full of affection. “So fucking perfect for us.” He says kissing you just below your jaw, then lower, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your neck, his breath warm as he soothes you with gentle touches.

Callum shifts against your other side, his body just as warm and solid behind you. His lips brush along your shoulder, slow and lazy, savoring every inch of you.

“You’re something else, love,” he murmurs, his voice rich with admiration. “Didn’t know you had that in you… but fuck, I’m glad I found out.” He grins, his lips moving in soft, teasing kisses along your shoulder as his fingers trace over your back.

Austin chuckles softly, tucking your hair behind your ear as he kisses your temple. “Tired?” he asks knowingly, his hand rubbing slow circles on your hip.

You nod weakly, barely able to keep your eyes open as exhaustion washes over you. “Mm-hmm,” you hum, melting into his embrace.

Callum smirks against your shoulder, his hand smoothing over your back. “Poor thing,” he teases, his voice laced with amusement. “We might’ve been a little too rough on her.”

Austin grins, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “No, she took us so well.” He says bringing the blanket over you and pulling you closer against him. “Just rest baby. We’ve got you.”

Callum sighs contentedly, his arm draping lazily over your waist as he nestles against your neck. “Yeah, sleep now love, because next round—I’m not holding back.” He grins.

“Guess we’ll have to keep her just between us.” Austin confirms and Callum hums in agreement.

You let out a soft, sleepy sigh, too exhausted to even respond, your body completely relaxed between them as you drift into the deepest, most satisfied sleep of your life.

END 💙💖💙

🔗 MasterList

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[diamondvic]

Sprig already was established to use telescopes from the very start of the series in the intro, and further in the season 2 outro, so it’s safe to say he likes stargazing at the very least. And there’s something so sweet about Anne getting Sprig specifically an Engraved telescope for his birthday when it’s already been shown in previous episodes how much he loves to feel the textures of things (think Hop ‘Til You Drop). It’s literally the first thing he does when he unwraps the telescope!! She got one engraved with his name for him!! Anne knew he’d love it and got something combining two things he loves for him because she knows him enough to know what he’d love. That is her little brother I love them so much

LOOK AT HOW HE HUGS IT HE’S SO HAPPY

[nottswitch]

need us having a guy over and hooking up with him while sister’s bf!theo is there and he can hear. how would he react?

⋆౨ৎ sister’s bf!theo hears you fucking his bsf mattheo

nav // aus / sister’s bf!theo // more

well hi there. we’re fucking his bsf matty here, i hope you don’t mind 🤭 i’ve been waiting to write this for so long, and finally we’re getting to it, so buckle up !!

warnings: 18+ mdni, voyeurism, masturbating (m), implied unprotected p in v, implied creampie, hair pulling, cursing, mentions of cheating

the sound of music coming from of your room is pretty much a habit at this point. theo isn’t surprised when he hears a faint sound of some chase atlantic song, chuckling to himself – god, you’re annoying with this band, much like his best friend, who always puts them on when he’s on aux duty. theo places his spare keys on the small vanity at the door – he’s come to wait for your sister, who had to run some errands this afternoon.

but as he walks further into the apartment, planning to make himself some coffee in the kitchen, he has to stop and listen closer. the music is suddenly not the only thing he can hear. his eyebrows knit together as he starts to distinguish… moans? he’s never heard you moaning like that before, that freely and loudly. whenever you were with him, under his mouth and fingers, your sounds were always low, stifled, always under threat of being exposed. now… you were unashamed and loud as hell.

despite himself, theo starts walking in the direction of your room. he can’t help being drawn there, and he curses quietly as he feels his cock starting to harden in his jeans – you sound that good. however, as he closes in, he hears something else, something that makes his frown deepen significantly. another set of moans and groans, male. there’s no fucking way.

surprisingly, or not, the door to your room is cracked open. of course, theo is a weak, weak man, and he has to know, has to confirm his assumptions. as he peers into the crack, he nearly chokes on air. there, on your bed, you’re in a very delicious position, ass up face down, your hands fisting the sheets as a guy pounds into you from behind, his fingers firmly digging into your hips. and not just any guy – theo’s very best friend, mattheo.

fucking chase atlantic. should’ve been a dead giveaway.

theo feels a wave a pure jealousy wash over him as he watches his friend take you in a way that theo could only dream of. he’s gonna kill him, he thinks – mattheo is fully aware of everything going on between you and theo, and still, he decided go against every single variation of bro code in existence… he almost groans aloud, having to bite his bottom lip to silence himself. the scene in front on him has no business being this hot.

without really thinking, theo unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers, his hard cock eagerly springing out and already leaking at the tip. his hand closes around the base, his breathing turning shallow as he watches mattheo grab a fistful of your hair to pull your body up against his chest.

"you feel so fucking good, baby," he hears his friend growl into your ear, thrusting deeper and eliciting a sweet, high-pitched moan out of you. theo grits his teeth as his hand starts stroking his cock, the rage he feels towards mattheo mixing with his burning arousal. precum drips down his length, his fingers smearing it all over, and he has to be slower than he wants to be in order not to give himself away by the slick sounds of him jerking off.

"my mate is a fucking idiot, missing out on all this." mattheo’s words make theo’s free hand curl into a fist, the desire to punch his friend overridden only by the pleasure he’s feeling as he starts pumping his other hand faster. he knows mattheo is right – theo has been the one refusing to fuck you so far, because apparently that would be cheating on your sister, and him dry humping you into oblivion every chance he gets isn’t. but this realization doesn’t make it easier; it makes it harder, in more ways than one.

mattheo’s pace inside of you grows quicker, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and at this point, the entire apartment. theo’s lips part as he watches your body move along with his friend’s thrusts, your tits bouncing up and down and making his mouth go dry. his cock twitches in his hold, and he feels his orgasm inching closer and closer with every moan you let out.

"you close, baby?" he hears mattheo’s ragged whisper, and your frantic nod is almost all it takes to bring theo over the edge. he can’t believe himself – he’s jacking off to the sight of his best friend fucking you, and he’s about to witness you cum on his dick. no wonder you will, he’s seen mattheo’s dick himself, it’s a goddamn fuck machine…

when your whole body shakes, and your voice grows hoarse from the pleasured moan you let out at your orgasm, theo can’t hold himself back – he spills into his hand, bracing himself against the wall by leaning on his forearm. the sticky mess of his cum seeping through his fingers is a shameful reminder of what has just happened – he jerked himself off watching his best mate fuck you. god, was it really worth it? the post-nut clarity is strong, and it only gets worse when he witnesses mattheo not even thinking of pulling out when he cums. this fucking bastard…

theo decides for himself right that moment that he absolutely needs to fuck you, his pride be damned – not like he has much of it left anyway. and maybe punch mattheo a couple of times.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ speak of the devil

synopsis. satoru and his father don’t quite get along—you don’t think it would help that case if his father walked in on you fucking on his desk right now, but satoru doesn’t seem to care at all

FIVE PLACES RB! GOJO SHOULDN’T FUCK YOU SERIES

length. 3.4k words (why did it take all day sobs)

contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, college au, rich boy! gojo, as always it’s shameless satoru, you sit on satoru’s lap, brief fingering, dry humping, desk sex <3, clothed sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, perfect girl)

notes. to everyone who kept asking when i was gonna update this series: here it is. now don’t ask again <3

the one time you decide to surprise satoru with a visit is the one time he’s nowhere to be found—it takes you ten minutes and the help of two maids to finally find satoru in his house. as it turns out, he’s in his father’s office—the only room you’ve never been in yet.

“hey,” you murmur, “been looking for you everywhere. way to ruin my surprise.”

“baby!” he grins, perking up from his spot at the chair, setting the pen in his hand down. “you came all the way here to surprise me? you must love me so much. and think i’m hot too, right? and funny? and smart? and—”

“i’m leaving,” you tease, rolling your eyes. and then you notice the papers in front of him, peeking over his shoulder as you read over them. you understand nothing. “what’s this?”

“paperwork,” he grumbles, “old man says i have to start being more responsible for stuff if i’m gonna take over someday. what a geezer.”

you snort—satoru never runs out of insults for his father. normally, you wouldn’t encourage his comments, but….well, his father deserves them. quite a bit, in fact.

“my poor businessman,” you say sympathetically, smoothing back hair from his forehead as you cup his face. he pouts, leaning into your touch as you rub over the swell of his cheek with your thumb. “you deserve a break.”

“i know,” he whines, “i’ve been doing these for like an hour. i could’ve been playing video games with suguru. or fucking you.”

“satoru!” you gasp, pressing a hand over his lips as you eye the door and listen for any signs of anyone nearby. you turn to him and hiss, “you have too many people wandering your house for you to say that so loud.”

“not like they’ve never heard us before,” he shrugs.

well, that’s satoru for you—as shameless as ever. not only has he probably traumatized the poor maids with his insatiable horniness, but he’s not even got the tact to at least seem embarrassed. not even slightly ashamed. you scoff, shaking your head as he grins up at you cheekily.

“you’re a real case, you know that?” you say in disbelief, “i think the only surface you haven’t fucked me on is your parent’s bed. and that’s only because you love your mom enough not to do that.”

“if it was just the old man’s, i’d have fucked you on that too,” he snickers. and then he hums thoughtfully, “actually, i think i have fucked you everywhere. it’s like a bucket list.”

“satoru, you’re sick in the head.”

“the showers, the guest rooms, the kitchen, the living room, the movie room, my room, of course—oh, the game room too. and we can’t forget the backyard and the pool either. i think we got it all—wait.”

he sounds serious. you look at him with furrowed brows as you tilt your head. “what?”

“we didn’t get this room.”

oh god. he’s absolutely ridiculous—and not only that but a complete idiot, too. not only do satoru and his father not get along, but his father couldn’t disapprove of you any more than he already does. the last thing you both need is for him to walk in on his son fucking the girl he probably wants to hire a hitman to assassinate.

“oh my god,” you say exasperatedly, “toru, have you not one ounce of shame? you can’t possibly think—”

“why didn’t i think of this sooner?” he wonders out loud—and oh no. satoru has that look in his eyes, the one that’s locked in on something he wants. the spoiled side of him isn’t going to let this go. the weak part of you is probably going to have a hard time fighting him.

the unwise part of both of you will probably get you both into a whole lot of trouble.

“because it’s a bad idea. you’re a smart guy, toru,” you try to butter him up—it doesn’t seem to do much, though. “the smartest. so, so genius and intelligent, so you know this is a terrible idea, so let’s just drop it—”

“i should’ve done this way sooner,” he chuckles, looking at you in awe, “bend you right over this desk and fuck you over that fossil’s papers.”

his words are so shameless and so, so wrong. but for some odd reason, your clit aches a little at that.

“no, absolutely not—”

“can you imagine? he’s signing papers right where i had you drooling for me? he’d be so mad if he knew,” satoru cackles.

god—this should not be as appealing as it sounds. you try to throw on your best stern look, but satoru is as smart as he is sly. he can see the way you shift on your feet as he smirks up at you, and he’s already got that determined look in his eye that you know well enough.

it’s the same look he has when he decides he’s hungry—for you, that is. the same look that paints his face as he eyes you like you’re his next meal. the same look that tells you he wants you—and he’ll stop at nothing to have you.

and….well, you’ve never been good at saying no to satoru. it’s your fatal flaw.

“satoru, we should definitely not be doing any of that in here, and we definitely should not be risking making your dad—who hates that we’re dating, by the way—any more angry with us than he already is—”

“sweetheart,” he chuckles, pulling you by the wrist to fall onto his lap, “you worry too much, y’know that? i should fix that. fuck you dumb over this desk so you don’t overthink in that pretty little head you have.”

you glare at him, but he’s already got you straddling his hips, arms looped around your waist as he kisses your jaw with a hum. he’s already hard from what you can feel—the bulge pressing against your heat is hard to miss. 

“satoru—”

“save the part where you say my name for later. i haven’t even done anything yet,” he winks—and then he’s kissing you. he’s clever, you think, because kissing you is the fastest way to get you to melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck as he pulls you closer. 

so close, in fact, that you can feel his cock practically twitch in his pants as you shift on top of him, dragging your clothed cunt over his aching bulge.

“this is such a bad idea, toru,” you whisper in between kisses—but not one part of you fights his touch or even attempts to pull away. he hums, pressing wet kisses along your jaw as his hands dig into your hips, moving you to grind along his hardened length. 

“yeah? you sure? let’s check, shall we?” he raises a brow, hand slipping past the waistband of your pants and brushing past your folds—wet. dripping and messy and needy, just how your pussy always seems to be when you’re with him. he grins in satisfaction and throws you that knowing look as he mumbles, “sorry, baby. this pretty little pussy of yours disagrees.”

“toru,” you gasp as he toys with your clit, rubbing slow enough circles that you whine and roll your hips, trying to get more. but satoru is a brat—always has been, right from the day he was born. he pulls his fingers away and looks at you smugly as he kisses your curled lips while you frown at him.

“want more, don’t ya?” he asks—he’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. too ridiculous and annoying and troublesome, but you’re aching to feel something, anything. preferably him, so you nod. 

“just hurry up,” you huff. your hips push against him, dragging your cunt over his cock—it’s throbbing in his pants, confined under the fabric and needy for the tightness of your walls. you gasp when he rubs against your clit, and he groans, guiding your movements with a tight grip on your hips. 

“fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, “c-could cum jus’ like this. see what you do to me?”

“‘s not me,” you tilt your head as he nips at your neck, hand trailing to cup the back of his head and keep him in place as he nibbles at the skin and pecks along the marks he leaves, “this is all your fault.”

“all my fault, huh?” he chuckles, “you make it sound like this is a bad thing.”

his hips buck up, rolling against yours and building the friction up until your both panting messes, his lips against yours as you drink in each other’s moans—your clit rubs along his length with every stutter of your hips, and his tip leaks with more pre cum every time you press harder against his cock. it’s desperate—the way he chokes on your name and the way you cling around his neck. it feels good, and the way this is all so wrong only makes it feel better. 

“‘m close, toru,” you mewl, whining as his hand slides under your shirt to massage your tit, his eyes trained on you as he hums.

“good,” he grins, eyes dark and glinting with a sick satisfaction you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, “cum for me, sweetheart. right here—right on this chair,” he says lowly. 

so you do—head falling back with a sharp gasp and your nails digging into his shoulder as you come undone with a loud whine. the gojo estate is big—very big. you’re sure your voice isn’t carrying through even a fraction of the place, but still, you can’t help but clamp a hand over your mouth in case anyone is nearby. 

satoru doesn’t like that, though—his hand rips yours off as he ruts his hips upwards faster, harder, pressing against you closer. “no, baby,” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a breathy moan when you press harder against his cock, “make sure you let me hear how good you feel. feels good, huh?”

“yes,” you whimper, “yes, feels so good—need more, toru. please,” you pout, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes. 

“here?” he mocks, raising a brow, “you want me to fuck you right here? in my father’s office? where he does his work? right on his desk?”

“yes, here,” you sob, “right here—please. want you so bad. need it.”

“see?” he laughs, “now you’re getting it—not so much of a bad idea, is it?”

that’s the thing about satoru—he’s too used to hearing what he wants. being told what he likes to hear. getting what he asks for. you say no, and he’s determined to change it to a yes. but yes is never enough—it’s more. always more, more, more. it’s like all rich people, you suppose. 

they just always want more.

there’s a small, reasonable voice in your head that tells you this is a bad idea. a disrespectful one, even. sure, satoru’s father has never been kind to you, let alone polite. he looks at you like you’re an eyesore, and he’s certainly said less than appropriate things about your upbringing. but that doesn’t mean you have to stoop to his level of low and do something equally as spiteful, if not more…but you’re only human. and satoru always just fucks you so well, and cumming around nothing just isn’t enough, and…well, you think it’s just karma. 

the way the world works. 

the way you and satoru work. 

so you grin, huff out a little snort before pulling him into a kiss and reaching to free his hard, leaky cock from its confinements. he whines a little into your mouth as you smear the arousal coating his tip along his length, stroking down and squeezing at the base. 

“okay,” you whisper against his lips, “fuck me toru. right here—right on his desk.”

that, evidently, is all it takes—one second you’re comfortably sitting on his legs, pants soaked with his bulge pressed against your core, and the next second you hear his hand swipe papers off the surface to fall to the floor as your back is pressed against the cool wood. he doesn’t even bother with your clothes, just tugs both of your pants down your thighs that it’s enough. satoru has always been impatient too—doesn’t like to wait for anything when he can take it when he wants. 

you can feel him close, hovering over you. he’s warm—where his cock presses against your thigh, where his breath fans over your lips, where his hands grab your wrists and pin them over your head. he’s warm, and your head spins, and you need him filling you to the brim right now.

“anything you want, you get, sweetheart,” he murmurs, grinning sickeningly sweet, “can’t say no to my baby. what kind of boyfriend would i be?” you feel him bump his tip against your clit, making you gasp before he drags the head of his cock along your folds—they’re wet and slick from your arousal, coating his tip before he’s slowly pushing in. you gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans lowly. “can never get used to this,” he breathes, “never get used to this pussy. just takes me so well. fit in like i was made just to fuck you.”

“toru, t-toru—oh,” you squeal when he slides the rest of his length to fill you, buried to the hilt as your walls flutter around him. it’s nothing new, but it’s never something you’re prepared for all the same. how thick he is, how perfectly he hits that spot in the back of your walls, how full he makes you feel. it makes your legs wrap around his waist and pull him forward, closer, deeper. “more, toru—move, please.”

“nuh uh,” he drawls, kissing your cheeks, “first you gotta tell me how much you love me.”

“satoru,” you hiss in disbelief, “are you kidding—”

“c’mon, say it,” he giggles, “love you, toru. love how you fuck me so good everywhere in your house and make me feel like a princess. you’re the best boyfriend ever and i’ll die without your cock—”

“i love you toru,” you smile sweetly, “you know what i love more, though? when you’re too busy making pretty sounds for me instead of talking so much.”

that makes him shudder—makes him curse under his breath as your walls flutter impatiently around him. he’s aching—hot and swollen in your dripping cunt, balls heavy with cum that he needs to empty into your pussy because it was made to take him. every inch of him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes out shakily, “know that? gonna kill me one of these days.”

“good,” you hum before rolling your hips and making his breath hitch, “now move, baby. wanna feel you.” 

he does—pulls his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only satoru knows how. only he knows you this well, only he knows your body so well. he knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear. 

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.”

“so full,” you gasp, clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, pulling him closer and closer and closer until not even air can fill the space between you. “feel so good, toru—fuck.”

“look at you,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “‘s a shame you can’t see what i see. then you’d know why i can’t keep my hands off’a you—’s impossible.”

you can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown back against the table. there’s slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. you can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him. 

“love you, toru,” you mewl—you can’t help but say it, can’t help but remind him when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. and if his rotten, greedy, stuck-up father with a receding hairline can’t see that you love satoru, maybe you’ll just have to fuck him right where he can find you just to drill the image into his mind. 

“love you too,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, keeping him right there, keeping him close against you like he should never be anywhere else, “love my perfect, perfect girl. feel me? feel what you do to me?”

you nod between sharp gasps and soft cries of his name—he looks down at you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of toru!, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face. 

his hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now, but still just as hard and deep as before. he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always do. so he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you cling to him tighter as you cry out another sweet string of toru, toru—more!

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? ‘m close—gonna fill you up. want that, don’t you?”

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “yeah i wan’ you to fill me up, toru—gonna cum. ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

you know he is too, the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him that his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth as he inhales sharply.

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and the first drop of cum fills you. it’s hot and thick, every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. you can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and smear along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “g-good—’s so good, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly, face digging deeper into the crook of your neck as his arms tremble over you.

the wood is hard against you, makes your back ache slightly—but it’s not nearly as bad as satoru is good. you can’t think of anything else but the way he fucks you both through your highs until your legs are begging to press shut from the oversensitivity. 

it’s silent for a bit once you’ve finished—save for the harsh, labored panting as you both calm down and catch your breaths. satoru is still buried with his nose pressed against your neck, your hand rubbing over his back slowly.

“your maids must hate us,” you mumble, “and if your mother hears? we can never show her our faces again.”

“she’s probably dead to the world and watching her reality shows,” he snorts, “we’ll be fine.”

“well, we should clean up and leave before your dad—”

“oh look, speak of the devil. he’s just in time,” satoru snickers as he cuts you off, looking over at the window as an expensive car drives up to the house, “think we can get these papers organized before he comes up here? maybe we should just leave ‘em to make him mad.”

“you’re crazy,” you say in disbelief. and then— “i think we should leave them there. make them his problem.”

you think you’ve just watched satoru fall in love with you all over again at that.

i hate this fic but hopefully i come back one week later and reread it and think wow i ate w this. sometimes i do that. but if i don’t: if all of you donate one dollar to my family they can afford my funeral for when i drink bleach

[deathbyday]

𖥔not so gen. mouthwashing relations headcanons.𖥔˚

Written By: DeathByDay

TW - death, SA.

Includes: Captain Curly, Daisuke, and Anya

__________

Captain Curly

• This man is 100% a sucker for romance

• I’ve seen some people say that they think that he’s one to be into PDA, but honestly I just don’t see it

• Maybe a few pecks on the cheek or light hand holding, but nothing more

• He just doesn’t seem that type of guy to me

• But in private? That’s a whole different story

• He’s all on you whenever you want him to be or not, especially in the mornings

• I feel like he’d love to hug you from behind while you sleep, his nose pressed against the back of your neck while his arms are wrapped around right underneath your chest

• Would 100% wake up first like c’mon he’s literally a captain, he needs to (much to your dismay)

• But while you’re still asleep he’d plant small kisses on the back of your neck to try to wake you

• If that doesn’t work, then he’d leave the room before coming back soon enough with a cup of your favorite morning drink. Coffee, tea, milk, water, you name it

• If you came to him during a bad day, rest assured he’s gonna take care of you

• He’s running a bath with the exact temperature you wanted, laying out pajamas for you, along with towels. Probably would put bath salt in there too (if you aren’t allergic and like the feeling of it)

• Acts of service and words of affirmation are his love languages, prove me wrong. YOU CANT

• You don’t understand how bad he would feel after the crash

• Like he can’t be there for you and you need to be the one taking care of him. He just feels pathetic

• You sometimes make Jimmy let you give him the painkillers. You wouldn’t be as harsh as him, of course. Just gently slide it on his tongue and help him swallow, not shoving or pushing it down

• Anyways back to pre-crash Curly

• I think he would adore it if you ever planted kisses on his cheek, neck, or forehead (or honestly anywhere else)

• If you’re shorter than him, you’d have to grab his jawline and bring him down to your level to properly kiss. Trust me when I say he would never recover from it

• Loves kissing your neck, especially before you two begin the day together

NSFW

• Y’all cannot tell me this guy isn’t the most gentlest man in bed

• Always asking if you’re comfortable, moving at a reasonable pace until you’re ready, praising you for taking him so well, etc

• He 100% presses down on your stomach to feel how deep he is inside of you

• Gives you neck kisses while he praises you

• #need that

• I think he’d end up being more serious than silly

• Although he would occasionally chuckle at your whimpers and moans, I don’t feel like he’d actually crack a few jokes

Daisuke

• Ten thousand percent blushes at the slightest contact. Even from your hand accidentally rubbing against his he becomes a flustered mess

• Adores PDA, he doesn’t care

• But of course if you don’t, that’s fine

• Just hold his pinky finger and give him a kiss on the cheek from time to time and he’s good to go

• 100% does puppy eyes whenever he wants a kiss

• You guys could just be laying on the lounge area’s couch and he would give you those eyes. Obviously you gave him what he wanted because who wouldn’t

• When you cuddle, I don’t really see him having a favorite position. He could be the big spoon or the little spoon, he’s happy with both

• When he’s the little spoon, he’d have his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. His head would be smushed into your chest, snuggling close

• When he’s the big spoon, he’d almost always have an arm wrapped around your shoulders while being in a starfish position

• Not to mention the snoring. He snores so loud you can’t prove me otherwise. He would sleep with his mouth open, which makes it even worse

• At first, it was tricky getting used to his snoring. But after a month or two of sleeping together, you couldn’t sleep without it

• Definitely not the one to wake up first. Most of the time, you have to drag him out of the bed to get him up and get ready for the day, leading to him whining and groaning

• Physical touch has this man in a chokehold

• Whenever the two of you actually have to work, he’d be so sad to leave you alone

• But after you two finally met up after, he would blabber about what he did, who he talked to, etc. and you would listen to every detail

• 100% the one to say “gyatt” whenever you pass by him. Even if you have a flat ass he still says it

• If you ended up dying before him, this guy would actually become depressed

• We all know he started getting drunk due to the mouthwash, but that is nowhere near how much he drank when you passed away

• If he ended up dying before you, he would promise you a thousand times while he’s bleeding out that he’d wait for you

• But back to fluff

• Whenever you have a bad day, this guy is definitely not leaving you alone

• He’d cuddle you until you literally explode

• If you were to ever kiss him anywhere on his face, he’d be a blushing mess no matter how light it is

• He genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing and just wings it with you, knowing you’d love him no matter what

NSFW

• He’s definitely a whiner

• You’d have to shut him up by either making out or keeping a hand on his mouth to muffle him

• Soft sex soft sex soft sex

• There’s no way he can take it seriously when you two are in bed. Of course he would try if you were into that, but he’d end up giggling at the end of each sentence

• 100% has a praise kink

• Please tell this man how good he’s doing at keeping you satisfied. He’d be way too embarrassed to do anything more with you if you don’t

Anya

• My poor baby

• She isn’t the best at expressing her love for you, but it’s obvious she loves you so much

• Not very big on PDA, but you do sometimes get a hug or a light peck on the cheek whenever you walk into a room she’s already in

• Will rant to you about how dumb it is that Daisuke won the game in Sorry!. She could honestly go on for hours on end

• You have to calm her down and tell her that it’ll be okay. Never tell her “it’s just a game” because then she’ll get even more upset

• When she found out she was pregnant, she felt terrible. Not just for herself but for you

• What would you think? Assume she’s cheating on you with her assaulter?

• You two were in bed when she finally broke the news to you about Jimmy and the baby. And oh my god you actually almost fought that man

• She had to hold you back from getting up from your spot. After that night, you shot daggers at that man every time you passed him. You didn’t speak to him once, no matter the situation

• You held her in your arms that night, whispering praises into her ear before she finally fell asleep

• Speaking of sleep, she adores being the little spoon while cuddling with you

• Her face smushed into your chest? Your arms wrapped around her, fingers twisting around her hair? It sounded like heaven

• I feel like Anya would be the one to wake up first

• She won’t leave you alone until you did, so it doesn’t take long for you both to be up and ready

• She would mutter petnames against your neck, pleading with you to wake up from your slumber

• 100% makes your favorite drink in the morning and makes it perfect every. single. time

• If you can’t cook, she’ll teach you

• She’s a wonderful teacher and chef. She explains everything to you correctly and soon you actually catch on

• You bake cookies by yourself (under her supervision) and if you burn them, she still praises you like you did everything right

• Whenever you get hurt, even if it’s just a scratch that’s barely bleeding, she cares for you as if you’ve broken a bone

• Both of you are each other’s protectors. She watches out for you, and you watch out for her

NSFW

• She wouldn’t be very talkative, but she would occasionally speak if you ever asked

• Ex: “Use your words, baby.” “Y/N-.. Please..”

• I feel like she’d shed a few tears whenever she becomes overstimulated, or if it’s your first time together

• Let her go as slow as she wants. She’ll eventually become comfortable enough with you, but it’ll take a few attempts

• I’m literally begging you, don’t slam your fingers, dildo/strap, or dick into her. She won’t talk to you for ages

• Don’t do anything harsh while having intercourse. I feel like she’d rather you be soft with her

• She’d be a mix of silly and serious. Drop a few occasional jokes to get her to laugh. But only do that when you two are actually moving at a good pace

• At first, I think she would be serious. If not nervous. But when you guys are finally adjusting to each other, it’s always nice to see her giggle

__________

authors note

I sincerely apologize if anyone was hoping for swansea.. I just couldn’t think of anything for him. Still wanna kiss that grumpy old man though!!

but nonetheless, I hope you all liked this<3

[pucksandpower]

Keeping Up With the Leclercs

mafia!Charles Leclerc x bratva! Reader

Summary: ever wondered what it would be like if Morticia and Gomez Addams were in the mafia? There’s nothing quite like a dangerous couple who are (literally) crazy for each other

Warnings: arranged marriage and kidnapping

You stand in your father’s study, arms crossed defiantly as he delivers the news that will change your life forever. The plush Persian rug beneath your feet feels like quicksand, threatening to swallow you whole.

“You can’t be serious,” you spit out, glaring at the man who raised you. “An arranged marriage? What century do you think we’re living in?”

Your father, Nikolai, the most feared man in the Bratva, doesn’t flinch. He merely raises an eyebrow, his steely gaze unwavering. “It’s not up for discussion, Y/N. This alliance with the Monegasque Mafia will secure our position for generations to come.”

You scoff, pacing the room like a caged tigress. “And I’m just supposed to be the sacrificial lamb? How convenient.”

“Watch your tone,” Nikolai warns, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

The door to the study swings open, and in walks the very man you’re meant to marry. Charles Leclerc, heir to the Monegasque Mafia, saunters in with an air of arrogance that makes your blood boil.

“Ah, there’s my blushing bride,” Charles drawls, a smirk playing on his lips. “I hope I’m not interrupting a touching father-daughter moment.”

You spin to face him, eyes blazing. “You. This is your fault, isn’t it? What, couldn’t find a woman willing to marry you voluntarily?”

Charles chuckles, seemingly amused by your outburst. “Feisty. I like that in a woman.”

“I’m not your woman,” you snarl, taking a step towards him. “And I never will be.”

Your father clears his throat, reminding you of his presence. “Y/N, Charles, please sit down. We have much to discuss.”

Reluctantly, you take a seat on the leather sofa, as far from Charles as possible. He, on the other hand, sprawls out comfortably, looking for all the world like he owns the place.

“Now,” Nikolai begins, “the wedding will take place in three months. Until then, I expect you both to get to know each other and present a united front to our associates.”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Three months? Why the rush? Afraid I’ll come to my senses and run away?”

Charles leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t worry, mon chérie. I’ll make sure you’re thoroughly ... distracted.”

“You’re disgusting,” you mutter, refusing to meet his gaze.

Your father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Enough. You two will learn to get along, for the sake of both our families.”

“And if we don’t?” You challenge, raising your chin defiantly.

Nikolai’s expression darkens. “Then you’ll face the consequences. Both of you.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. You know better than anyone what your father is capable of when crossed.

Charles, seemingly unfazed, stands up and stretches. “Well, this has been delightful, but I think Y/N and I could use some ... alone time to get acquainted.”

You jump to your feet, ready to protest, but your father beats you to it. “An excellent idea. Y/N, why don’t you show Charles the gardens?”

It’s not a suggestion, and you know it. Gritting your teeth, you storm out of the study, not bothering to check if Charles is following.

The moment you’re in the hallway, Charles catches up, matching your brisk pace. “So, tell me about yourself, future Mrs. Leclerc. What makes you tick?”

You whirl around, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen here, you smug bastard. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I want no part of it. This marriage? It’s never going to happen.”

Charles catches your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Oh, it’s happening alright. But who says we can’t have a little fun along the way?”

You yank your hand away, your skin tingling where he touched you. “Fun? You think this is fun?”

“It could be,” he shrugs, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively. “If you’d let that stick out of your ass for five minutes.”

“Charming,” you deadpan. “Is this how you usually woo women? Insults and forced marriages?”

Charles laughs, the sound rich and oddly melodic. “Only the special ones. Come on, Y/N. Give me a chance. I might surprise you.”

You pause, studying him for a moment. Despite your anger, you can’t deny there’s something intriguing about Charles. A dangerous allure that both excites and terrifies you.

“Fine,” you concede grudgingly. “One chance. But if you so much as look at me wrong, I’ll make you regret it.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Charles grins, offering you his arm. “Shall we explore these famous gardens of yours?”

Ignoring his outstretched arm, you lead the way outside. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the meticulously manicured grounds.

“It’s beautiful,” Charles murmurs, genuine appreciation in his voice.

You nod, allowing yourself to relax slightly. “It’s my favorite place on the estate. I used to hide here as a child when things got ... intense inside.”

Charles turns to you, his expression softening. “It can’t have been easy, growing up in this world.”

“Like you’d know anything about it,” you scoff, but there’s less venom in your words now.

“You’d be surprised,” he says quietly. “The gilded cage of Monaco isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “Oh? Do tell.”

Charles shakes his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “Another time, perhaps. For now, I’d rather hear about you. What do you do when you’re not busy being the Bratva princess?”

“I’m not a princess,” you retort automatically. “And I ... I paint, actually.”

“Really?” Charles seems genuinely interested. “What kind of art?”

You hesitate, unused to sharing this part of yourself. “Mostly abstracts. Emotions translated into color and form.”

“I’d love to see them sometime,” Charles says softly. “If you’d let me.”

You study him, trying to detect any hint of mockery. Finding none, you nod slowly. “Maybe. If you behave yourself.”

Charles clutches his chest dramatically. “Me? Misbehave? I’m wounded by the very suggestion.”

Despite yourself, you feel the corners of your mouth twitching upwards. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

As you continue walking, a comfortable silence falls between you. The tension from earlier hasn’t disappeared entirely, but it’s shifted into something ... different. Something charged with possibility.

“You know,” Charles says suddenly, breaking the quiet, “this arranged marriage thing doesn’t have to be a death sentence.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Says the man who’s not being forced to give up his freedom.”

“Who says you have to give up anything?” Charles counters. “We could make our own rules, create our own version of this marriage.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. “What are you suggesting?”

Charles steps closer, his voice low and intense. “A partnership. Equal footing. We present a united front to the world, secure our families’ alliance, but behind closed doors? We live our lives how we want.”

“And what about love?” You ask, hating how vulnerable you sound. “What about building a real relationship?”

Charles reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle touch sends shivers down your spine. “Who says that can’t happen naturally? We have time. We can take things slow, get to know each other properly.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “And if we end up hating each other?”

“Then we’ll still be the most dangerous power couple the mafia world has ever seen,” Charles grins. “Think about it. With your fire and my charm, we could rule this entire underworld.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension finally breaking. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer to think of myself as irresistible,” Charles winks.

Rolling your eyes, you start walking again. “Don’t push your luck, Leclerc.”

As you near the house, Charles suddenly stops, turning to face you. His expression is more serious now, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Listen, Y/N,” he says softly. “I know this isn’t ideal for either of us. But I meant what I said about making it work. I respect you, and I want us to build something real, even if it starts from an arrangement.”

You study him, searching for any sign of deception. Finding none, you nod slowly. “Okay. I’m willing to try if you are.”

Charles breaks into a genuine smile, one that transforms his entire face. “That’s all I ask.”

As you stand there, bathed in the dying light of the day, you feel something shift between you. It’s not love, not yet, but it’s a beginning. A spark of possibility that could, with time and nurturing, grow into something beautiful.

Charles takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, deliberately, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through your entire body.

Pulling back slightly, Charles looks you up and down, a wicked glint in his eye. “You know what, Y/N? I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy everything you have to offer.”

And despite yourself, despite all your reservations and fears, you find yourself looking forward to proving him right.

***

Three months have passed in a whirlwind of preparations, negotiations, and stolen moments. Now, as the clock strikes midnight, you find yourself in the opulent bridal suite of the Leclerc compound, face to face with your new husband.

Charles stands before you, his tuxedo jacket discarded, bow tie hanging loosely around his neck. His eyes, dark with desire, never leave yours as he slowly begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Well, Mrs. Leclerc,” he drawls, a smirk playing on his lips. “Shall we consummate this union of ours?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t quite suppress the flutter in your stomach. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Charles. I’m still not convinced this wasn’t a terrible idea.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. “Always so prickly. It’s one of the things I love about you, you know.”

“Love?” You scoff, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at the word. “We’ve known each other for three months.”

Charles reaches out, his fingers trailing along your jawline. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

You swallow hard, fighting the urge to lean into his touch. “Just ... help me out of this dress, will you? I can hardly breathe in this thing.”

“With pleasure,” Charles grins, moving behind you.

As he slowly lowers the zipper, his breath hot on your neck, you can’t help but shiver. The tension between you has been building for weeks, and now, alone at last, it threatens to consume you both.

The dress pools at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments and ...

Charles lets out a low whistle. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

You turn to face him, a wicked glint in your eye. Strapped to various parts of your body are an impressive array of weapons — daggers, throwing stars, even a small pistol holstered to your thigh.

“A girl’s got to be prepared,” you shrug, trying to appear nonchalant despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

Charles’ eyes roam over you, a mix of admiration and desire in his gaze. “I must say, I’m impressed. And more than a little turned on.”

You can’t help but laugh, some of the tension dissipating. “Is that all it takes? A few knives and you’re ready to go?”

“What can I say?” Charles grins, stepping closer. “I like a woman who can handle herself.”

His hands come to rest on your waist, fingers brushing against the hilt of a dagger. “Though I have to ask, were you planning to assassinate me on our wedding night?”

You smirk, trailing a finger down his chest. “The night’s still young, Mr. Leclerc. Don’t get too comfortable.”

Charles laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, mon amour. What am I going to do with you?”

“I can think of a few things,” you murmur, surprising yourself with your boldness.

Charles’ eyes darken, his grip on your waist tightening. “Care to elaborate?”

Instead of answering, you reach up and pull him down for a kiss. It’s fierce and passionate, months of pent-up tension finally finding release. Charles responds eagerly, his hands roaming your body, carefully avoiding the various weapons still strapped to your skin.

When you finally break apart, both panting, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “As much as I’m enjoying this little arsenal of yours, perhaps we should disarm you before things get too ... heated.”

You nod, slightly dazed from the intensity of the kiss. “Probably a good idea. Wouldn’t want any unfortunate accidents.”

Charles steps back, his eyes never leaving yours as you begin to remove the weapons one by one. With each knife that clatters to the ground, the air between you grows thicker with anticipation.

“You know,” Charles muses, watching as you unholster the pistol from your thigh, “most brides wear a garter. You went for a whole armory.”

You smirk, setting the gun carefully on a nearby table. “I’m not most brides.”

“No,” Charles agrees, his voice low and husky. “You certainly aren’t.”

As you remove the last dagger, Charles closes the distance between you once more. His hands, warm and calloused, cup your face gently.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones. “I know this isn’t how either of us imagined getting married. But I want you to know, I’m glad it’s you.”

You swallow hard, caught off guard by the sincerity in his eyes. “Charles, I-”

He silences you with a soft kiss, so different from the passionate one you shared earlier. This one is tender, almost reverent, and it makes your knees weak.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathing heavily. “You don’t have to say anything,” Charles whispers. “Just ... be here with me. In this moment.”

You nod, unable to form words. Instead, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as you undo them one by one.

Charles watches you, his eyes dark with desire. As you push the shirt off his shoulders, revealing his toned chest, he lets out a shaky breath. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands settling on your hips.

You blush, unused to such open admiration. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage to quip, trying to regain some of your usual bravado.

Charles chuckles, pulling you closer. “Always with the sharp tongue. I wonder what else it can do.”

Before you can retort, his lips are on yours again, hot and demanding. You melt into the kiss, your hands exploring the planes of his chest, tracing old scars and feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Charles’ fingers find the clasp of your bra, and he pauses, looking at you questioningly. You nod, giving him permission, and he deftly unhooks it, letting it fall to the floor.

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, his eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

You fight the urge to cover yourself, instead meeting his gaze defiantly. “Your turn,” you say, your hands moving to his belt.

Charles grins, helping you undo the buckle. “Eager, are we?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat behind it.

As you both finish undressing, the air between you crackles with anticipation. Charles takes your hand, leading you towards the massive four-poster bed that dominates the room.

“Last chance to back out,” he says softly, his thumb tracing circles on your palm.

You look up at him, taking in the mixture of desire and vulnerability in his eyes. Despite everything, despite the arranged nature of your marriage and the complexities of your world, you find yourself wanting this.

Wanting him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, pulling him down onto the bed with you.

What follows is a dance of passion and discovery. Charles’ hands and lips seem to be everywhere at once, mapping out every inch of your skin. You’re not passive either, giving as good as you get, reveling in the way he gasps and moans under your touch.

It’s not perfect — there are moments of awkwardness, of fumbling and laughter. But it’s real, and raw, and more intense than anything you’ve ever experienced.

As you both near the edge, Charles looks down at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you’re not quite ready to name. “Y/N,” he pants, his movements becoming more erratic. “God, Y/N ...”

You arch against him, your nails digging into his back. “Charles,” you gasp, teetering on the brink. “I’m ... I’m ...”

He captures your lips in a searing kiss as you both tumble over the edge together, waves of pleasure washing over you.

Afterwards, you lie tangled together, both struggling to catch your breath. Charles props himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and wonder.

“Well,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “I’d say that was a successful consummation, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “It wasn’t terrible,” you concede, trying to maintain some semblance of your usual sass.

Charles raises an eyebrow, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “Not terrible? I seem to recall you being quite ... vocal in your appreciation.”

You blush, burying your face in his chest to hide your embarrassment. “Shut up,” you mutter, your words muffled against his skin.

Charles chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Never,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I plan on making you that vocal every night for the rest of our lives.”

You pull back, looking up at him with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” he winks, leaning down to steal another kiss.

As you settle into each other’s arms, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles’ fingers continue their gentle exploration of your skin, occasionally brushing against the spots where your weapons had been strapped earlier.

“I have to say,” he murmurs after a while, “I’m looking forward to discovering what other surprises you have in store for me, Mrs. Leclerc.”

You tense slightly at the name, reality crashing back in. “About that,” you say, sitting up and pulling the sheet around you. “This ... what just happened... it doesn’t change anything.”

Charles frowns, propping himself up on his elbows. “What do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I mean, this was ... enjoyable. But it doesn’t change the fact that we were forced into this marriage. That our lives are being dictated by our families and their alliances.”

“Y/N,” Charles says softly, reaching out to touch your arm. “I thought ... I thought we were past that. That we were building something real here.”

You close your eyes, fighting back the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “We are. I think. But it doesn’t erase the circumstances that brought us together. I just ... I need you to understand that.”

Charles is quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on your arm. When he speaks, his voice is low and intense. “I understand. But, mon cœur, look at me.”

Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. The depth of emotion you see there takes your breath away.

“Yes, our marriage was arranged,” he says. “But what’s happening between us? That’s real. That’s ours. And I’m not going to let anyone, not our families, not the entire damn underworld, take that away from us. Okay?”

You swallow hard, fighting back tears you didn’t even realize were threatening to fall. “Okay,” you whisper.

Charles pulls you back down into his arms, holding you close. You let yourself relax against him, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“For what it’s worth,” you murmur after a while, your fingers tracing the lines of a scar on his abdomen, “I’m glad it’s you too.”

But you’re still going to give him hell every step of the way. After all, where would be the fun in making it easy?

***

The gala is in full swing, crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the ballroom of the Leclerc compound. You stand by Charles’ side, both of you the picture of mafia royalty in your evening wear. Your hand rests on his arm, a gesture that has become natural over the past few months.

“Smile, mon chérie,” Charles murmurs, his lips barely moving. “The Woking representative is watching.”

You plaster on your most charming smile, leaning into Charles slightly. “How long do we have to keep this up?” You whisper back.

Charles chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Until we’ve sufficiently convinced everyone that we’re madly in love. So … forever.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” he winks, before turning to greet an approaching guest.

As Charles engages in small talk, you let your gaze wander around the room. Something feels off, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Years of growing up in the Bratva have honed your instincts, and right now, they’re screaming danger.

“Charles,” you murmur, interrupting his conversation. “Something’s wrong.”

He looks at you sharply, instantly alert. “What is it?”

Before you can answer, the lights go out. The room erupts into chaos, shouts of confusion and fear filling the air.

Charles’ arm wraps around you protectively. “Stay close,” he orders, his voice tense.

Suddenly, gunshots ring out. Glass shatters, and screams pierce the darkness. You feel Charles being torn away from you, and panic sets in.

“Charles!” You shout, reaching for him blindly.

A hand grabs your arm, but you know instantly it’s not Charles. You react on instinct, twisting and striking out with your elbow. There’s a grunt of pain, and the grip loosens.

The emergency lights flicker on, casting an eerie red glow over the scene. Bodies litter the floor, some moving, others disturbingly still. You scan the room frantically for Charles, your heart pounding.

A movement catches your eye, and you turn to see a man in a black mask aiming a gun at you. Time seems to slow down as you reach for the knife strapped to your thigh, cursing yourself for not being more heavily armed.

Just as the man’s finger tightens on the trigger, a blur of motion tackles him to the ground. Charles. Relief floods through you, quickly replaced by fear as you see them grappling on the floor.

You rush forward, knife in hand, but more masked figures appear, surrounding you. You fight with everything you have, your knife flashing in the dim light, but you’re outnumbered.

A sharp pain explodes in the back of your head, and the world goes dark.

When you come to, you’re tied to a chair in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Your head throbs, and you can taste blood in your mouth. As your vision clears, you see Charles tied to another chair a few feet away, his face bruised and bloody.

“Y/N,” he breathes when he sees you’re awake. “Are you alright?”

You nod, wincing at the movement. “I’m fine. What happened? Where are we?”

Before Charles can answer, a door slams open. A man strolls in, his expensive suit at odds with the grimy surroundings. You recognize him immediately — Zak Brown, head of the Woking Crime Family.

“Well, well,” Brown drawls, a cruel smile on his face. “The newlyweds are finally awake. How touching.”

Charles strains against his bonds, his eyes blazing with fury. “Brown, you bastard. What do you want?”

Brown chuckles, circling your chairs like a shark. “What do I want? Oh, nothing much. Just the complete destruction of the Bratva and Monegasque Mafia. And you two are going to help me achieve that.”

You spit blood at his feet. “Go to hell.”

“Feisty,” Brown grins, stopping in front of you. “I can see why Leclerc here is so taken with you.”

He reaches out, grabbing your chin roughly. You try to jerk away, but his grip is like iron.

“Don’t touch her!” Charles roars, his chair scraping against the concrete as he struggles.

Brown ignores him, his eyes locked on yours. “You know, I’ve always had a thing for Bratva princesses. Maybe once this is all over, I’ll keep you for myself.”

Charles’ voice is low and dangerous when he speaks. “If you so much as lay another finger on my wife, I will tear you apart with my bare hands.”

Brown turns to him, eyebrow raised. “My, my. Such passion. And here I thought this was just a marriage of convenience.”

You look at Charles, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. His eyes meet yours, and the emotion you see there takes your breath away.

Brown claps his hands, breaking the moment. “As touching as this is, we have business to attend to. You’re going to call your fathers and tell them to surrender control of their organizations to me. If you don’t, well ...” He pulls out a gun, pointing it at your head. “I’m sure you can imagine the consequences.”

Charles laughs, the sound harsh and bitter. “You’re delusional if you think that will work. Our fathers would sacrifice us in a heartbeat to maintain control.”

“Perhaps,” Brown shrugs. “But are you willing to take that chance?” He cocks the gun, pressing it against your temple.

You close your eyes, steeling yourself. “Do it,” you spit out. “I’d rather die than betray my family.”

“Y/N, no,” Charles says, his voice breaking.

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. “It’s okay, Charles. We always knew this could happen.”

Brown looks between you, frustration evident on his face. “Enough of this noble sacrifice bullshit. You have one hour to make your decision. I’ll be back.”

He storms out, slamming the door behind him.

The moment he’s gone, you start working on your bonds. “Charles, can you reach the knife in my hair?”

He blinks, momentarily confused. “You have a knife in your hair?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I do. Now hurry, before they come back.”

Charles manages to scoot his chair closer, awkwardly fumbling with your elaborate updo. After a few tense moments, he lets out a triumphant “Aha!” As he extracts a small, razor-sharp blade using nothing but his mouth.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he murmurs, a hint of pride in his voice.

Working together, you manage to cut through your ropes. Once free, you make quick work of Charles’ bonds.

“Okay,” you whisper, rubbing your wrists. “We need a plan.”

Charles nods, his eyes scanning the room. “There’s probably guards outside. We’ll need a distraction.”

You grin, reaching into your dress and pulling out a small explosive device. “Will this do?”

Charles stares at you in disbelief. “Where did you ... you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

You approach the door, setting the device. “Ready?”

Charles takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “Y/N, wait. Before we do this, I need you to know something.”

You turn to him, confused by the intensity in his eyes. “What is it?”

“I love you,” he says simply. “Not because of our families, not because of the arrangement. I love you, Y/N, for everything that you are.”

Your heart skips a beat, emotions swirling inside you. “Charles, I-”

The door bursts open, cutting you off. Brown stands there, gun raised, flanked by two guards.

“Well, isn’t this romantic,” he sneers. “I hate to interrupt, but-”

He doesn’t get to finish. Charles moves with lightning speed, tackling Brown to the ground. You react instantly, throwing your knife at one guard while launching yourself at the other.

The room erupts into chaos. Gunshots ring out, and you hear Charles grunt in pain. Fear grips your heart as you dispatch your opponent, turning to see Charles and Brown grappling on the floor, both bloodied.

Brown gains the upper hand, pinning Charles down and reaching for his discarded gun. Without thinking, you throw yourself at him, knocking him off Charles.

You end up on your back, Brown looming over you, his hands around your throat. Your vision starts to blur as you struggle for air.

Suddenly, the pressure is gone. You gasp, air flooding your lungs, and look up to see Charles standing over Brown’s crumpled form, a bloody pipe in his hand.

“That’s my fucking wife,” Charles snarls, his eyes blazing with a fury you’ve never seen before. “I’m going to kill you for touching her.”

As Charles raises the pipe again, you struggle to your feet. “Charles, wait!”

He pauses, looking at you with wild eyes. You place a hand on his arm, feeling the tremors running through his body.

“He’s not worth wasting more time,” you say softly. “Let’s just get out of here. The explosive will deal with him.”

For a moment, you think he might not listen. Then, slowly, he lowers the pipe. “You’re right,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Let’s go home.”

You make your way out of the warehouse, supporting each other. As you stumble into the cool night air, sirens wailing in the distance, Charles pulls you close.

“I meant what I said in there,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. “I love you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible.”

You look up at him, seeing the truth of his words in his eyes. In that moment, all your doubts and reservations melt away. You realize that somewhere along the way, despite the arranged marriage, despite the danger and complexity of your lives, you’ve fallen in love with Charles Leclerc.

“I love you too,” you whisper, the words feeling right on your tongue. “God help me, but I do.”

Charles’ face breaks into a radiant smile, and he leans down to kiss you. It’s not the most comfortable kiss — you’re both battered and bloody, adrenaline still coursing through your veins — but it’s real and raw and perfect.

As you break apart, breathless, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “What do you say we get out of here, Mrs. Leclerc? I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound slightly hysterical with relief and lingering fear. “Lead the way, Mr. Leclerc. But don’t think this means I’m going to start following your orders.”

Charles grins, taking your hand as you start walking. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Your stubbornness is one of the things I love most about you.”

***

The Leclerc mansion buzzes with activity as you and Charles prepare for an event you never quite imagined would be part of your lives: your son’s first parent-teacher conference. The past decade has been a whirlwind of change, love, and unexpected joy, with little Jules at the center of it all.

You stand before the full-length mirror in your bedroom, smoothing down your sleek pantsuit. It’s a far cry from the weapons-laden wedding dress of years past, but old habits die hard — there’s still a small knife concealed in your boot.

Charles appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look beautiful, mon cœur. Though I must say, I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t opt for your thigh holster.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t suppress a smile. “Very funny. I’m trying to make a good impression here.”

“Ah yes,” Charles grins, pressing a kiss to your neck. “The fearsome Y/N Leclerc, terror of the underworld, now fretting over a parent-teacher conference. How the mighty have fallen.”

You elbow him playfully in the ribs. “Watch it, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Charles spins you around to face him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t dare. You’d miss me too much.”

“Try me,” you challenge, but there’s no heat in your words. After all these years, the banter between you is as natural as breathing.

A small voice pipes up from the doorway. “Mama, Papa, are you fighting again?”

You both turn to see Jules standing there, his mop of dark curls a mess and his school uniform slightly rumpled. At six years old, he’s the perfect blend of you and Charles — your fierce determination and Charles’ charm wrapped up in one precocious package.

Charles scoops him up, tossing him in the air and eliciting a squeal of delight. “Fighting? Us? Never. Your mother and I were just discussing the finer points of marital bliss.”

You snort, reaching out to smooth Jules’ hair. “What your father means is that he was being an idiot, as usual.”

Jules giggles, looking between the two of you with adoration. “Are you excited to meet Ms. Thompson? She’s really nice, I promise!”

You exchange a glance with Charles, a mixture of pride and apprehension in both your eyes. Sending Jules to a normal school had been a controversial decision among your families, but you were determined to give him as normal a childhood as possible — or at least, as normal as the son of two mafia leaders could have.

“Of course we’re excited, baby,” you say, tweaking Jules’ nose. “Now, why don’t you go make sure you have all your things ready? We’ll be leaving soon.”

As Jules scampers off, Charles pulls you close again. “You know,” he murmurs, “I’m actually a bit nervous about this.”

You look up at him, surprised. “You? Nervous? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Charles shrugs, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s different when it’s about Jules. I just ... I want everything to be perfect for him.”

You soften, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I know. Me too. But we’ve faced down rival mafia families, corrupt politicians, and your mother’s infamous Christmas dinners. I think we can handle one teacher.”

Charles laughs, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You’re right, as always. Though I do have one request.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

He leans in close, his breath tickling your ear. “Try not to kill any teachers if you don’t like what they say, okay?”

You pull back, swatting his arm. “Charles Leclerc! I would never!”

“Uh-huh,” he grins, clearly unconvinced. “Need I remind you of the incident with Jules’ preschool teacher?”

You flush, crossing your arms defensively. “That was different. She suggested Jules might have behavior issues. I merely ... expressed my disagreement.”

“You threatened to feed her to the sharks in Monaco Harbor,” Charles deadpans.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” You huff. “She never brought it up again.”

Charles shakes his head, chuckling. “Just ... try to restrain yourself this time, okay? We’re trying to give Jules a normal life, remember?”

You sigh dramatically. “Fine. I promise not to threaten, maim, or otherwise harm any of Jules’ teachers. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Charles grins, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Now, shall we go face the music?”

As you make your way downstairs, Jules is waiting by the door, bouncing on his toes with excitement. “Come on, come on!” He urges. “We don’t want to be late!”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Alright, little man. Let’s go.”

The drive to the school is filled with Jules’ chatter about his friends, his favorite subjects, and how he’s sure Ms. Thompson will have only good things to say. You and Charles listen attentively, exchanging fond glances over Jules’ head.

As you pull into the school parking lot, you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve faced down countless dangerous situations without breaking a sweat, but somehow, this feels more daunting.

Charles seems to sense your unease. He takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got this,” he murmurs. “Just remember — no death threats.”

You roll your eyes but squeeze his hand back. “I’ll do my best.”

Jules leads the way into the school, practically skipping down the hallway. You and Charles follow, hand-in-hand, drawing curious glances from other parents and teachers. It’s not every day that two of the most powerful figures in the criminal underworld show up for a parent-teacher conference.

As you approach Ms. Thompson’s classroom, Jules turns to you both. “Best behavior, okay?” He says seriously, wagging a finger at you. “No fighting, no threatening, and absolutely no talk about the family business.”

You and Charles exchange an amused glance. “Yes, sir,” Charles says solemnly. “We promise to be on our best behavior.”

Jules nods, satisfied, then knocks on the classroom door before scurrying away to meet up with his friends.

Ms. Thompson, a kind-faced woman in her forties, opens the door with a warm smile. “Ah, the Leclercs! Please, come in.”

As you enter the classroom, you can’t help but scan for potential threats — an old habit that’s hard to break. Charles notices and gives you a gentle nudge, a silent reminder to relax.

“Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Ms. Thompson says, gesturing for you to sit. “Jules talks about you all the time.”

You exchange a slightly worried glance with Charles. “All good things, I hope,” you say, trying to keep your tone light.

Ms. Thompson laughs. “Oh, mostly. Though I must admit, some of his stories are quite ... imaginative.”

Charles leans forward, curiosity piqued. “Oh? Like what?”

“Well,” Ms. Thompson says, a twinkle in her eye, “there was the time he told the class that his parents once fought off a rival family with nothing but a butter knife and a bottle of expensive champagne.”

You cough, trying to hide your surprise. That particular story wasn’t as exaggerated as Ms. Thompson probably believed. Charles, meanwhile, looks entirely too amused.

“Kids and their imaginations,” he says smoothly. “Though I must say, that does sound like an exciting dinner party.”

Ms. Thompson chuckles. “Indeed. But let’s focus on Jules’ academic progress, shall we?”

As she begins to go through Jules’ work, showing you his assignments and discussing his strengths and areas for improvement, you find yourself relaxing. Jules is doing well — excelling, even — and Ms. Thompson seems genuinely fond of him.

“He’s a bright boy,” she says warmly. “Very curious and always eager to learn. He does have a tendency to ... embellish his stories during show and tell, but his creativity is truly remarkable.”

You nod, a surge of pride washing over you. “That’s our Jules,” you say softly, glancing at Charles. His eyes are shining with the same pride and love you feel.

Ms. Thompson hesitates for a moment, then continues. “There is one small concern I wanted to discuss with you both.”

You tense immediately, your hand instinctively moving towards your concealed knife. Charles notices and quickly places his hand over yours, shooting you a warning look.

“What kind of concern?” He asks smoothly, while keeping a firm grip on your hand.

Ms. Thompson looks slightly nervous, but presses on. “Well, Jules has been ... rather interested in weapons lately. He’s been drawing quite detailed pictures of various firearms and knives. While his artistic skills are impressive, I’m a bit worried about the subject matter.”

You and Charles exchange a look. This is exactly the kind of situation you’d been afraid of — how do you explain that weapons are simply a part of your daily life without revealing too much?

Charles clears his throat. “Ah, yes. Well, you see, my wife and I are ... collectors. Of antique weapons. It’s a family hobby, you might say. Jules must have seen some of our pieces.”

You nod quickly, grateful for Charles’ quick thinking. “Exactly. We’ll have a talk with him about appropriate subjects for school, of course.”

Ms. Thompson looks relieved. “Oh, I see. That explains it. Yes, a talk about school-appropriate topics would be wonderful. Other than that, Jules is a joy to have in class.”

As the conference wraps up, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. You managed to get through it without any threats or revelations about your true profession. Charles seems equally relieved as you say your goodbyes and head out to collect Jules from the playground.

Once you’re back in the car, Jules in the backseat, he leans forward eagerly. “Well? How did it go? Did I do okay?”

You turn in your seat to face him, your heart swelling with love. “You did more than okay, sweetheart. We’re so proud of you.”

Charles nods in agreement. “That’s right, mon chou. Though we do need to have a little chat about those weapon drawings ...”

Jules has the grace to look sheepish. “Oops. Sorry about that. I just thought they were cool.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s alright. Just ... maybe stick to drawing cars or dinosaurs at school, okay?”

As you drive home, Jules chattering away in the backseat, you reach over and take Charles’ hand. He glances at you, a soft smile on his face.

“We did it,” you murmur. “No threats, no violence, not even a single mention of sleeping with the fishes.”

Charles chuckles, bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss. “I’m impressed. Though I have to say, I was a little disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing you go all mama bear.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat in it. “There’s always next time,” you say with a wink.

As you pull into the driveway of your home, you can’t help but marvel at how much your life has changed. From reluctant bride to devoted wife and mother, from cold-hearted mafia princess to ... well, an only slightly less cold-hearted mafia queen.

But looking at Charles and Jules, you wouldn’t have it any other way. This beautiful, chaotic, sometimes dangerous life you’ve built together — it’s more than you ever dared to dream of.

And if anyone tries to threaten this happiness? Well, you still know how to use that knife in your boot. Some things never change, after all.

***

Sarah Dumas nervously adjusts her cardigan as she enters the school gymnasium for the monthly PTA meeting. Even after three years, she still feels out of place among the other parents. Her eyes scan the room, landing on the couple that always draws everyone’s attention: Charles and Y/N Leclerc.

They stand near the refreshment table, an island of elegance and barely contained danger in a sea of suburban normalcy. Charles, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, laughs at something you’ve said, his hand resting casually on the small of your back. You, for your part, look like you’ve just stepped off a runway, your designer outfit a stark contrast to the mom jeans and polos that dominate the room.

Sarah edges closer, trying to catch snippets of the conversation.

“Mon amour,” Charles is saying, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I still think my idea for the fundraiser was brilliant.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s fondness in your expression. “Charles, we’ve been over this. We can’t auction off ‘A Day in the Life of a Mafia Boss’ as a school fundraiser.”

“Why not?” Charles pouts playfully. “I’d even throw in a complimentary lesson in money laundering. Think of the educational value!”

Sarah’s eyes widen. Surely they must be joking. Right?

Before she can ponder it further, the PTA president, Marie Fournier, calls the meeting to order. As everyone takes their seats, Sarah finds herself next to Beth, another mom she’s friendly with.

“Can you believe them?” Beth whispers, nodding towards the Leclercs. “They always act like they own the place.”

Sarah shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. “They’re ... certainly unique.”

Beth snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Did you hear about what happened at the last bake sale?”

Sarah shakes her head, leaning in eagerly.

“Well,” Beth continues, her voice low, “apparently, Mrs. Leclerc’s lemon bars were so good that Mr. Peterson from the school board accused her of cheating. Next thing you know, Mr. Leclerc has him cornered, whispering something about ‘sleeping with the fishes’ if he ever insulted his wife’s baking again!”

Sarah gasps. “No! What happened?”

Beth grins. “Mr. Peterson went white as a sheet and bought every single lemon bar. Paid triple the asking price, too.”

Their gossip is interrupted as Marie starts discussing the upcoming spring carnival. “Now, we still need volunteers for the dunk tank ...”

To everyone’s surprise, Charles’ hand shoots up. “I’ll do it,” he says, flashing a charming smile.

Marie blinks, clearly taken aback. “Oh, um, thank you, Mr. Leclerc. That’s very ... generous of you.”

You lean over to Charles, whispering something that makes him chuckle. Sarah strains to hear, catching only fragments: “... better than the time in Majorca ... at least this time you’ll be expecting the water ...”

The meeting continues, with discussions about budget allocation, new playground equipment, and the eternal debate over chocolate versus vanilla for the ice cream social. Throughout it all, Sarah can’t help but notice how the Leclercs seem to operate on a different wavelength from everyone else.

When the topic of security for the carnival comes up, you speak up for the first time. “I have some ... associates who would be happy to help out. Free of charge, of course.”

Marie looks both relieved and slightly terrified. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Leclerc. Are these associates ... qualified?”

You smile, a predatory gleam in your eye. “Oh, trust me. They’re very qualified in handling ... difficult situations.”

Charles coughs, poorly disguising a laugh. “What my wife means is that they’re experienced in crowd control and conflict resolution.”

The other parents exchange nervous glances, but no one dares to question further.

As the meeting wraps up, Sarah finds herself lingering, oddly fascinated by the Leclercs. She watches as they approach Marie, speaking in low tones. Marie’s eyes widen, and she nods vigorously before scurrying away.

Curiosity gets the better of Sarah, and she edges closer, pretending to study the snack table.

“... really, mon cœur,” Charles is saying, “you didn’t have to threaten her kneecaps.”

You shrug, a small smirk playing on your lips. “It worked, didn’t it? Now Jules’ class will get that field trip to the science museum he’s been asking for.”

Charles shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You’re a menace. What am I going to do with you?”

“You love it,” you reply, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Sarah fumbles with a paper cup, causing it to clatter to the floor. The Leclercs turn, fixing her with twin looks of amusement.

“Enjoying the refreshments, Mrs. Dumas?” Charles asks smoothly.

Sarah feels her face heat up. “I, um, yes. The cookies are lovely.”

You step forward, your movements graceful and somehow predatory. “Sarah, isn’t it? Jules has mentioned your daughter, Emma. They’re in the same class, right?”

Sarah nods, surprised and a little flattered that you know this. “Yes, that’s right. Emma talks about Jules all the time. He seems like a wonderful boy.”

Charles beams with pride. “He takes after his mother,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You roll your eyes but lean into his touch. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Leclerc.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Sarah realizes she should probably say something. “So, um, how are you finding the PTA? It must be quite different from ... well, from what you’re used to.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Sarah wants to kick herself. What was she thinking?

To her relief, the Leclercs just laugh. “Oh, you’d be surprised,” you say, a twinkle in your eye. “Managing a group of passionate parents isn’t all that different from managing our ... family businesses.”

Charles nods sagely. “Though I must say, the stakes here can be even higher. You should have seen the great Cupcake Debacle of 2032.”

Sarah finds herself relaxing, drawn in by their easy charm. “Oh? What happened?”

You lean in conspiratorially. “Let’s just say it involved three kinds of frosting, a rogue flamingo, and a very creative use for a fire extinguisher.”

Sarah bursts out laughing, surprising herself. As intimidating as the Leclercs can be, there’s something undeniably magnetic about them.

Just then, Beth appears at Sarah’s elbow. “Sarah, we should get going. Carpool, remember?”

Sarah nods, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. “Of course. It was nice talking to you, Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc.”

Charles flashes that devastating smile again. “The pleasure was all ours. Oh, and Sarah?”

She turns back, curious. “Yes?”

“Do make sure to bring Emma to the carnival. I have a feeling the dunk tank is going to be ... quite the spectacle this year.”

As Sarah walks away with Beth, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just had a brush with something both thrilling and dangerous.

Beth, meanwhile, is practically vibrating with curiosity. “What were you talking about with them? Did they say anything ... weird?”

Sarah considers for a moment. “Not really. They seem ... nice, actually. A bit eccentric, maybe, but nice.”

Beth looks skeptical. “Nice? Sarah, last week Mr. Leclerc showed up to career day and gave a presentation on ‘The Art of Negotiation’. Half the kids looked terrified, and the other half wanted to sign up for internships!”

Sarah can’t help but laugh. “Well, at least it was memorable. And you have to admit, they’ve done wonders for the school’s fundraising efforts.”

Beth nods grudgingly. “True. Though I’m not entirely sure where all that money is coming from ...”

As they reach Beth’s minivan, Sarah glances back at the school. She catches a glimpse of the Leclercs through a window, heads bent close together, clearly deep in conversation. There’s an intensity to their body language that makes Sarah’s breath catch.

For a moment, she allows herself to imagine what their life must be like outside of PTA meetings and school functions. The glamor, the danger, the passion ... it’s all so far removed from her own suburban existence.

But then Beth honks the horn, jolting Sarah back to reality. With a small sigh, she climbs into the van, ready to return to her normal life of carpools and casseroles.

As they drive away, Sarah can’t help but think that the spring carnival is going to be very interesting indeed. And despite herself, she’s looking forward to it more than she’d care to admit.

Over the next few weeks, preparations for the carnival kick into high gear. Sarah finds herself volunteering more than usual, partly out of genuine enthusiasm and partly (though she would never admit it) to catch more glimpses of the enigmatic Leclercs.

The day of the carnival dawns bright and clear. Sarah arrives early to help set up, her arms full of homemade cupcakes. As she approaches the school grounds, she nearly drops her baked goods in shock.

The usually modest school field has been transformed into something out of a movie. There are professional-grade rides, gourmet food stalls, and even a small Ferris wheel. And is that ... a chocolate fountain?

“Impressive, isn’t it?” A familiar voice says behind her.

Sarah turns to see Charles Leclerc, looking impossibly dashing in casual wear that probably costs more than her monthly mortgage payment.

“Mr. Leclerc! This is ... wow. How did you manage all this?”

Charles winks conspiratorially. “Let’s just say I called in a few favors. And please, call me Charles.”

Before Sarah can respond, you appear at Charles’ side, looking stunning in a sundress that’s both elegant and practical. “Darling, everything’s set up. Oh, hello Sarah. Those cupcakes look delicious.”

Sarah blushes under your scrutiny. “Thank you, Mrs. Lecl- I mean, Y/N. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

You smile, and for a moment, Sarah forgets to breathe. “I’m sure they’re wonderful. Why don’t you bring them over to the bake sale table? I hear Mr. Peterson has already reserved half of them.”

As Sarah walks away, she overhears Charles murmuring to you, “Did you really have to station Dmitri and the boys at every entrance?”

“Better safe than sorry,” you reply. “Besides, they’re under strict orders. No weapons, no intimidation, and absolutely no business talk around the children.”

Sarah shakes her head, convincing herself she must have misheard. Surely you’re talking about regular security guards. Right?

The carnival is a roaring success. Children laugh and scream with delight on the rides, parents chat over gourmet hors d’oeuvres, and there’s a general air of festivity that Sarah has never seen at a school event before.

But the real highlight, as promised, is the dunk tank. Charles takes his place on the seat, looking for all the world like he’s about to attend a board meeting rather than be dunked in water. You stand nearby, a mischievous glint in your eye as you buy a stack of balls.

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!” Charles calls out, his voice carrying across the field. “Who wants to dunk the dashing Mr. Leclerc? All proceeds go to the school’s new science lab!”

A crowd gathers, equal parts amused and intimidated. Sarah watches as you take aim, a look of intense concentration on your face.

“Come on, mon chèrie,” Charles taunts playfully. “Surely the feared Y/N Leclerc can hit a simple target?”

Your eyes narrow. “Oh, it’s on.”

The ball flies true, hitting the target dead center. Charles barely has time to look surprised before he plunges into the water. The crowd erupts in cheers and laughter.

When Charles resurfaces, he’s laughing too. “Well played. Well played indeed.”

As the day winds down, Sarah finds herself helping with clean-up, still buzzing from the excitement. She overhears snippets of conversation from other parents, all marveling at the success of the event.

“I heard they quadrupled the fundraising goal ...”

“Did you see those security guards? They looked like they could bench-press a car ...”

“I swear I saw Mrs. Leclerc talking to the Mayor. Since when do we have connections like that?”

Sarah smiles to herself, realizing that while the Leclercs may not fit the typical PTA mold, they’ve brought something special to their little community. Something exciting, glamorous, and yes, maybe a little dangerous.

As she’s about to leave, she spots the Leclercs by their sleek Ferrari. They’re wrapped in each other’s arms, oblivious to the world around them. The look they share is so full of love and passion that Sarah has to look away, feeling like she’s intruding on a private moment.

Driving home, Sarah reflects on the day. She still can’t quite put her finger on what makes the Leclercs so different, so intriguing. But she knows one thing for certain: life has become a lot more interesting since their son joined the school.

And as she pulls into her driveway, Sarah finds herself looking forward to the next PTA meeting more than she ever thought possible. After all, who knows what the Leclercs will come up with next?

***

Nurse Marion Bouchard has seen her fair share of unusual deliveries in her 15 years at the Princess Grace Hospital Centre, but nothing could have prepared her for the arrival of the Leclerc baby.

It starts with the mysterious men in dark suits who seem to materialize out of nowhere, clearing out an entire wing of the maternity ward. Marion watches, wide-eyed, as they sweep the rooms for ... something. Bugs? Bombs? She isn’t sure she wants to know.

“Excuse me,” she finally musters the courage to approach one of them. “What’s going on here?”

The man turns, his expression impassive behind dark sunglasses. “Security measures. The Leclercs are arriving.”

Before Marion can ask more, a commotion at the end of the hall catches her attention. A striking couple bursts through the doors, surrounded by more suited men. The woman is clearly in labor, but looks more annoyed than pained.

“I swear to God, Charles,” you are saying through gritted teeth, “when this is over, I’m going to make you regret ever looking at me without a condom.”

The man looks both terrified and amused. “Mon amour, you say the sweetest things.”

Dr. Evans, the head of obstetrics, rushes forward. “Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc, welcome. We have everything prepared-”

You cut him off with a glare that could melt steel. “Less talking, more drugs. Now.”

Marion finds herself assigned to your care team, helping you into a private suite that looks more like a five-star hotel room than a hospital. As she hooks up the fetal monitor, she can’t help but notice the way Charles hovers, his eyes constantly scanning the room for threats.

“Is this your first child?” Marion asks, trying to break the tension.

You laugh, a sound somewhere between amusement and pain. “Second. Our son, Jules, is at home with his grandfather. Probably learning how to properly strangle someone as we speak.”

Marion’s eyes widen, and she lets out a nervous chuckle, unsure if you are joking.

Charles steps in smoothly. “What my lovely wife means is that Jules is likely being spoiled rotten with ice cream and cartoons.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure, let’s go with that. Now, where are those damn drugs?”

As if on cue, the anesthesiologist enters. Marion notices how one of the suited men outside tenses, hand moving to his jacket, before relaxing at a subtle nod from Charles.

Hours pass, and Marion finds herself more and more fascinated by the Leclercs. Despite the pain of labor, you maintain a razor-sharp wit, alternating between threats to Charles’ manhood and startlingly accurate assessments of hospital security protocols.

“You know,” you pant during a particularly strong contraction, “if you really loved me, you’d let me stab you just a little. It’s only fair.”

Charles, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch. He just strokes your hair and says, “How about we save the stabbing for our anniversary? As is tradition.”

Marion’s head whips around, but both of you are grinning at each other like it’s some private joke.

As the labor progresses, Marion can’t shake the feeling that something is ... off about the Leclercs. It isn’t just the excessive security or the luxurious accommodations. There is an undercurrent of danger, of barely contained power, that both thrills and terrifies her.

During a quiet moment, while you doze between contractions, Marion’s curiosity gets the better of her. “Mr. Leclerc,” she whispers, “if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do?”

Charles smiles enigmatically. “Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that. Mainly, I specialize in ... problem-solving.”

Before Marion can probe further, you jolt awake with a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.

“Charles,” you growl, “I swear on all that is holy, if you don’t get this baby out of me in the next five minutes, I will personally ensure that there will be no more little Leclercs.”

Charles pales slightly but maintains his composure. “Now, mon ange, let’s not be hasty. Remember São Paulo? This is nothing compared to that.”

You glare at him. “São Paulo didn’t involve pushing a human being out of my-”

“Okay!” Marion interjects quickly. “Let’s check your progress, shall we?”

As she examines you, Marion can’t help but wonder what on earth had happened in São Paulo. She has a feeling she is better off not knowing.

The next few hours are a blur of activity. You prove to be as fierce in childbirth as you apparently are in ... whatever it is you do outside the hospital. Marion loses count of the creative threats and punishments you devise for Charles, each more outlandish than the last.

“When this is over,” you pant, pushing with all your might, “I’m going to tie you to a chair and make you listen to Baby Shark on repeat for 24 hours straight.”

Charles winces. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? What happened to the good old days of cement shoes and sleeping with the fishes?”

Dr. Evans, who is positioned at the foot of the bed, looks up with a mixture of concern and confusion. “Mr. Leclerc, I’m not sure-”

“It’s a joke,” Charles says quickly. “An inside joke. From our ... cooking class.”

Marion exchanges a glance with Dr. Evans. Cooking class? Sure.

Finally, with one last heroic push and a string of curses that Marion is certain are in at least five different languages, your daughter enters the world.

The room falls silent for a moment, then fills with the strong, angry cries of a newborn who seems to have inherited her mother’s spirit.

“She’s beautiful,” Charles whispers, tears in his eyes as he cuts the umbilical cord.

You collapse back onto the pillows, exhausted but triumphant. “Of course she is. She’s ours.”

As Marion helps clean and weigh the baby, she can’t help but notice how the atmosphere in the room has changed. The danger and tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all day seem to evaporate, replaced by a bubble of pure love and joy.

Charles cradles his daughter gently, looking at her with a mixture of awe and terror. “Hello, little one,” he murmurs. “I’m your papa. I promise to always protect you, even if it means hiding bodies in the- I mean, even if it means staying up all night to chase away the monsters under your bed.”

You roll your eyes but smile softly. “Nice save. Now, give me my daughter before I have to get up and take her from you.”

As Charles places the baby in your arms, Marion feels like she is intruding on something incredibly intimate and precious. The way you look at each other, at your child, speaks of a bond that goes far beyond anything she’s ever witnessed.

“So,” Marion ventures, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, “have you decided on a name?”

You and Charles share a look, having one of those silent conversations that only couples who are completely in sync can have.

“Vittoria,” you say finally. “Vittoria Leclerc.”

“It means victory in Italian,” Charles explains, his voice filled with pride. “Because she’s already conquered our hearts.”

Marion smiles, charmed despite herself. “That’s beautiful. And very fitting, considering how fiercely she entered the world.”

You grin, a hint of your earlier fire returning. “Just wait until she’s older. She’ll be ruling the family busi- I mean, family game night in no time.”

As Marion finishes up her duties and prepares to leave the new family alone, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just been part of something extraordinary. The Leclercs are unlike any couple she’s ever met, a whirlwind of passion, danger, and now, an overwhelming love for their children.

Just as she is about to exit, Charles calls out to her. “Nurse Bouchard?”

She turns, curious. “Yes, Mr. Leclerc?”

He fixes her with a penetrating gaze that makes her feel like he can see right through her. “We appreciate your discretion in this matter. The Leclerc family values privacy above all else.”

Marion swallows hard, suddenly very aware of the armed men still stationed outside the door. “Of course, Mr. Leclerc. Patient confidentiality is paramount in our profession.”

You chime in, your voice deceptively sweet. “And we’re so grateful for that. It would be such a shame if anything were to ... compromise that confidentiality. Don’t you agree, Charles?”

Charles nods, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Absolutely, mon cœur. A real tragedy.”

Marion feels a chill run down her spine. “I ... I understand. You can trust me completely.”

As Marion leaves the room, her head spinning, she can’t help but wonder what she’s gotten herself into. The Leclercs are clearly more than they appear, your world so far removed from her own that she can barely comprehend it.

But as she glances back one last time, seeing Charles press a tender kiss to your forehead while you cradle little Vittoria, she realizes that at your core, you are just like any other family. Loving, protective, and perhaps a little bit dangerous.

***

Stefan Wheeler wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans for the hundredth time as he stands before the imposing gates of the Leclerc estate. At 17, he thought he was prepared for anything, but meeting his girlfriend Vittoria’s family is proving to be more nerve-wracking than he’d anticipated.

“Relax,” Vittoria says, squeezing his hand. “They’re going to love you.”

Stefan nods, not entirely convinced. “Right. It’s just ... your family seems ... intense.”

Vittoria laughs, a sound that usually makes Stefan’s heart soar but now only heightens his anxiety. “Oh, you have no idea.”

As they approach the front door, it swings open before they can knock. A tall, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing eyes stands there, his gaze immediately zeroing in on Stefan.

“Ah, you must be the boy,” he says, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of... something Stefan can’t quite place.

Vittoria rolls her eyes. “Papa, be nice. This is Stefan. Stefan, this is my father, Charles Leclerc.”

Stefan extends his hand, hoping it isn’t visibly shaking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Leclerc.”

Charles takes Stefan’s hand, his grip firm to the point of being painful. “Charmed, I’m sure. Please, come in. The family is eager to meet you.”

As they enter the foyer, Stefan’s eyes widen. The interior of the house is a strange blend of opulent luxury and what looks like ... medieval weaponry? He could have sworn he saw a battle axe mounted on one wall.

Before he can process this, a whirlwind of energy enters the room. You sweep in with a grace that seems almost predatory.

“So this is the famous Stefan,” you say, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Stefan swallows hard. “All good things, I hope.”

You tilt your head, studying him intently. “Oh, Vittoria’s been very ... discreet. But we have our ways of finding out information.”

Charles chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Don’t terrify the boy just yet. We haven’t even made it to the dining room.”

Stefan laughs nervously, unsure if that is meant to be a joke.

Just then, a young man who could only be Vittoria’s older brother, Jules, saunters in. He is the spitting image of Charles, with an air of danger that makes Stefan want to take a step back.

“Well, well,” Jules drawls, circling Stefan like a shark. “So you’re the one who thinks he’s good enough for our Vittoria.”

Vittoria groans. “Jules, knock it off. You promised to behave.”

Jules grins, all teeth. “I am behaving. I haven’t even shown him my knife collection yet.”

Stefan’s eyes widen. “Knife ... collection?”

Charles claps his hands together. “Shall we move to the dining room? I’m sure our guest is hungry after his ... journey here.”

As they walk, Stefan can’t shake the feeling that he is being herded like prey. The dining room is as impressive as the rest of the house, with a table that could easily seat twenty.

“Please, sit,” Charles says, gesturing to a chair. Stefan notices it is positioned so that his back is to the door, while the Leclercs have clear sightlines to all exits.

As they settle in, you ring a small bell. Almost instantly, servers appear with plates of food that look and smell incredible.

“I hope you like Italian,” you say, your tone making it clear that not liking it isn’t an option.

Stefan nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes, I love it. This looks amazing, Mrs. Leclerc.”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Please, call me Y/N. Mrs. Leclerc makes me sound so ... old.”

Charles smirks. “You’re as youthful and deadly as the day I met you, mon cœur.”

Stefan blinks, sure he must have misheard. Deadly?

As they begin to eat, the interrogation starts in earnest.

“So, Stefan,” Charles says, twirling pasta around his fork with practiced ease. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

Stefan nearly chokes on his food. “I ... uh ... we’re just dating, sir. Getting to know each other.”

Jules leans forward, his eyes glinting. “And how exactly are you getting to know her?”

“Jules!” Vittoria hisses, her cheeks flushing.

You interject smoothly. “What my son means is, what do you two do for fun?”

Stefan relaxes slightly. This, he can handle. “Oh, we go to the movies, hang out at the mall, normal stuff. Vittoria’s been teaching me how to play chess.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Chess? Interesting choice. Tell me, Stefan, do you know the importance of strategy? Of always being three moves ahead of your opponent?”

Stefan nods, confused by the intensity of Charles’ gaze. “Uh, yes. Vittoria’s been explaining that to me.”

“Good,” Charles says, leaning back. “That’s a valuable skill in ... many areas of life.”

The conversation continues, with each question feeling more like a trap than casual dinner talk. Stefan finds himself constantly on edge, trying to decipher the hidden meanings behind each seemingly innocent inquiry.

“What do your parents do, Stefan?” You ask, sipping what Stefan is pretty sure isn’t just water.

“My dad is an accountant and my mom’s a teacher,” Stefan replies.

Jules snorts. “How quaint. And what do you want to do with your life?”

Stefan straightens, feeling a bit more confident. “I’m actually really interested in law enforcement. I’m thinking of applying to the police academy after college.”

The room goes eerily silent. Stefan looks around, confused by the sudden tension.

Charles breaks the silence with a laugh that sounds only slightly forced. “Law enforcement? How ... admirable. You know, Stefan, there are many ways to uphold justice in this world. Some more effective than others.”

You nod, a strange glint in your eye. “Indeed. Sometimes the law needs a little ... help to get things done.”

Stefan shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I ... I’m not sure I understand.”

Vittoria jumps in, clearly trying to change the subject. “Stefan’s also really into martial arts, Papa. He’s been teaching me some self-defense moves.”

This seems to pique Charles’ interest. “Is that so? Perhaps you’d like to demonstrate after dinner, Stefan. I’m always interested in ... new techniques.”

The way Charles says it makes Stefan feel like he is missing some crucial subtext.

As the meal progresses, Stefan can’t shake the feeling that he is being tested. Every question, every glance exchanged between family members, seems loaded with hidden meaning.

When dessert is served — a delicious tiramisu that Stefan is almost too nervous to enjoy — Jules leans forward with a predatory grin.

“So, Stefan,” he says, his voice deceptively casual. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to make someone ... disappear?”

Stefan blinks, sure he must have misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

Vittoria groans. “Jules, stop it.”

You intervene smoothly. “What my son means is, have you ever thought about the complexities of witness protection programs? It’s fascinating how someone can just ... vanish and start a new life.”

Charles nods sagely. “Indeed. The ability to reinvent oneself is a valuable skill in today’s world.”

Stefan nods slowly, feeling like he is missing some crucial piece of information. “I ... suppose so. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

As the meal winds down, Stefan feels like he’s run a mental marathon. Every interaction with the Leclercs leaves him slightly off-balance, as if there were entire conversations happening just beneath the surface that he can’t quite grasp.

Charles stands, clapping his hands together. “Well, this has been delightful. Stefan, why don’t you join me in my study for a nightcap?”

Vittoria starts to protest, but you cut her off with a look. “That sounds like an excellent idea. Jules, why don’t you help me and Vittoria clear the table?”

As Stefan follows Charles down a long hallway, he can’t shake the feeling that he is walking into the lion’s den. The study, when they enter, is a mix of old-world charm and modern technology. Bookshelves line the walls, but Stefan notices some titles that seem ... unusual for a family library. “Advanced Interrogation Techniques?” “Undetectable Poisons Throughout History?”

Charles gestures for Stefan to sit in a plush leather chair, then pours two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter.

“Now, Stefan,” Charles says, his voice low and intense. “Let’s talk about what it really means to be part of the Leclerc family.”

Stefan swallows hard, suddenly very aware of how alone he is with this imposing man. “Sir?”

Charles leans forward, his eyes boring into Stefan’s. “Our family has ... certain traditions. Certain expectations. Dating a Leclerc isn’t like dating any other girl. Do you understand?”

Stefan nods slowly, though he isn’t sure he understands at all. “I ... I really care about Vittoria, Mr. Leclerc. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Charles’ smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. Because if you did ...” He lets the sentence hang in the air, the threat clear even if unspoken.

Just then, the door bursts open, and you stride in, looking exasperated. “Charles, are you terrorizing the poor boy?”

Charles leans back, the picture of innocence. “Not at all, mon amour. We were just having a friendly chat.”

You roll your eyes, but there is fondness in your expression. “Well, I think Stefan’s had enough friendly chats for one evening. Vittoria’s waiting to say goodnight.”

As you walk Stefan to the door, he feels like he’s survived some sort of elaborate test. The Leclercs gather around, their smiles a mix of warmth and warning.

“It was lovely to meet you, Stefan,” you say, your tone making it clear that lovely might be an overstatement.

Jules claps him on the back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “Yeah, kid. You’re not half bad. For a civilian.”

Stefan blinks, confused. “Civilian?”

Charles steps in smoothly. “What my son means is, for someone outside our ... close-knit family circle. We look forward to seeing more of you, Stefan.”

As Vittoria walks him to his car, Stefan’s head is spinning. “Your family is ... intense,” he manages.

Vittoria laughs. “I know. They can be a lot. But they mean well. Mostly.”

Stefan nods, still trying to process everything. “They’re not ... I mean, they don’t actually ...”

Vittoria raises an eyebrow. “Don’t actually what?”

Stefan shakes his head. “Never mind. It’s crazy. I just ... for a minute there, I almost thought ...” He trails off, laughing nervously.

Vittoria’s smile is enigmatic. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably best not to say it out loud. Plausible deniability and all that.”

As Stefan drives home, his mind races with questions. What has he gotten himself into? Who are the Leclercs, really? And why does he have the unsettling feeling that dating Vittoria might be the most dangerous thing he’s ever done?

One thing is certain: the Leclercs are unlike any family he’s ever met.

[likeumeanit9497]

red pill | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n is keeping score of a strange game between her friends when things get a little bit out of control ;)

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (m receiving); fingering; spanking; hair pulling; dirty talk; use of boner pillz; face fucking; 18+

notes: this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since the triplets posted that one photo dump (iykyk) and i FORGOT ABOUT IT until today. when i first started writing this i couldn't decide if it should be a matt or chris fic but was obviously going through a chris phase when i started it soooo chris girlies this is for u. HOWEVER stay tuned matt girls because i plan on making a blue pill version;) anyways love y'all lots MUAH MUAH MUAH

“This is so fucking stupid.” Matt groaned, sitting in between his brothers on the living room couch, holding a single red pill delicately in between two fingers as though it was a toxin. “Bro you’re the one who came up with the idea and bought them.” Chris retorted, inspecting the identical pill in his own hand. “Yeah, and I have no fucking clue why I agreed to this.” Nick chimed in, his voice filled with misery. “Because you can never turn down a competition.” I replied cheekily from my place on the other couch, giggling at the boys’ petty arguing.

Leaning forward, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket — opening up the timer app and hovering my finger over the start button. “Now hurry up and take them dummies, I’ll keep score.” I peered up at them as they gave each other tentative looks, seemingly hoping that one was going to have a change of heart. When nothing but silence followed, they all seemed to unanimously commit, dropping the red pills on their tongues and chasing them down with soda. As soon as they swallowed, I started the timer and sat back; crossing my arms across my chest with a smirk plastered to my face.

After the guys had posted the video at the gas station where Matt was talking about his idea for the sex pills, I had jokingly messaged him saying that I would gladly keep score if they really did it. Taking my message seriously, Matt had secretly gone out and grabbed three pills before inviting me over tonight. Thinking we were all just going to hangout, I was shocked when I showed up to find the pills neatly lined up on the coffee table and the three brothers pacing around the room arguing. After plenty of deliberation, Matt finally convinced Nick and Chris, and now here they were; awkwardly looking between themselves and me.

“How long do these even take to kick in?” Asked Chris, toying with the can of Pepsi in his hand. Grabbing one of the packages from the coffee table, Matt examined it for a moment. “It says thirty minutes.” He replied, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. “This is ridiculous.” Remarked Nick, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in everyone in the room. Still giggling, I stretched my legs along the couch. “Oh come on,” I whined, “Relax, get comfy, and let the games begin.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Nick deadpanned, locking his phone and throwing it beside him. “Really?” Asked Chris, turning to face his brother. Dropping his jaw, Nick made a disgusted face. “Is it for you?” Chris smirked bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m feeling somethin’.” He replied, to which Matt and Nick both groaned. “What about you Matt?” I asked, eyeing his still-relaxed frame leaning against the couch. Jutting out his bottom lip, he shrugged. “No, nothin’.” Chris groaned beside him, and I couldn’t help but notice him adjust himself slightly. “Great, now I feel weird.” He said, grabbing a blanket and swiftly draping it across his lap. I laughed and slowly pulled myself up from the couch.

“Looks like you might end up being the loser.” I teased as I began tidying up the packages strewn around the room. “I will n-” Dropping to my knees, I collected torn up pieces of packaging that had gathered at Chris’s feet. Noticing that Chris’s words had been cut short and now the room had fallen into heavy silence, I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes — which from up close seemed glassy and dilated — were on me, his mouth open slightly from his disrupted speech, and even his breathing seemed slightly rapid as his chest rose and fell.

Noticing this, Nick threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Chris are you serious? See I knew this was a fucking horrible idea.” His sharp words pulled Chris’s eyes away from me, and he winced at his brother. “I’m sorry,” He replied, his words aimed at both Nick and myself, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.” He added, seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. I giggled nervously before pulling myself back up to my feet. “It’s okay.” I reassured him before bringing the packages to the garbage; using the short walk to recover from that oddly intense moment.

As I returned, I suddenly noticed Matt fidgeting in his place on the couch, his brows knit in what seemed to be anguish. With Nick scrolling on his phone and Chris burying his head in his hands, I seemed to be the only one noticing Matt’s sudden discomfort. I chuckled as I slid back into my seat. “You good Matt?” I asked, teasing him. His eyes shot up to mine, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Uh…yeah. All—all good.” He replied, his voice thick and slightly raspy.

Glancing down at my phone, I check the timer. It had been 32 minutes since they took the pills. I smiled gently. “Right on time.” I replied, shooting him a knowing look which just made him grow even more visibly restless. My comment grabbed the attention of Nick and Chris, and they turned to look at their rosy-cheeked brother. “You too?” Nick shouted, jumping up off of the couch. Matt grimaced, shrugging his shoulders again. “It’s not like I can control it.” He replied, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Sighing, Nick began walking towards the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?” Chris asked him. “Nothing is happening to me dumbass! And I will absolutely not be sitting around you two anymore now that you’re both bricked up.” He sassed as he began climbing the stairs. “Good luck Y/n!” He called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Looks like we’re in a 1 v 1.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. I registered the look of torment on the faces of Matt and Chris, and decided that it would be in my best interest to hold back my laughter. “Let’s see who can make it to an hour.” I added. Chris grunted as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll be lucky if I make it another five minutes.” He replied, his voice also more gruff than usual. “Aww c’mon, you can do it.” I encouraged, moving to place a reassuring hand on his knee but deciding against it. As the room fell back into silence, I could hear Matt’s heavy breathing permeated by the occasional soft whine.

Although I was trying to keep things light-hearted, their overwhelming arousal was growing more and more palpable. My wandering eyes flittered from Matt’s bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to Chris’s temple coated in a sheen of sweat. As I focused on their features, it was as though their chemically-induced lust was contagious. I began to feel my own heart pounding in my chest, and I noticed a dampness in my panties that hadn’t been there before. In that silent room, all of our desires suddenly fell in sync with one another, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“I need to go deal with this.” Chris suddenly blurted out, his voice laced with urgency as his focused eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re throwin’ in the towel?” Asked Matt, his lips curling into a smile infused with what seemed to be an odd combination of arrogance and relief. Chris winced as he tried to lean forward, nodding his head intensely. I watched in painful silence as he folded his hands together and pressed them against his plump lips, deep in thought. Very slowly, his eyes were pulled in my direction.

I froze under his gaze, the look he was giving me was worth a thousand words. My brows furrowed momentarily, instinctually denying what his eyes were asking me, before I felt my body begin to react. Heart pounding in my ears, I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs; dying for some relief. “Hey—what’s going on?” Matt’s voice infiltrated mine and Chris’s stare-down. Picking up on the shift of air in the room, his eyebrows shot up. “Chris, no! That’s not how this works.” He exclaimed, turning to face his brother. Still looking at me, a smirk pulled at the corner of Chris’s lips. “We never laid down any ground rules kid.” He replied, and I felt my throat go dry.

“Well…” Matt’s exasperated voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, who said you get to fuck her?” The words sat heavy in the air around us, the reality of the situation being verbalized for the first time. I couldn’t manage to get a single word out if I tried, nor did I have the power to pull my eyes from Chris’s heady gaze. Chris chuckled, pulling himself off of the couch before slowly beginning to walk towards me. “No one,” He began, his voice suddenly menacing, “That’s up to her.” He finished just as he stopped in front of me, his frame towering above me with his tantalizing bulge directly in my line of sight.

Very slowly, he leaned down so that we were once again face-to-face. I felt my cheeks burn red from the situation I had suddenly found myself in, and the desire was radiating off of me in pulses. “What do you say?” He asked, his dilated eyes flooded with amusement. I swallowed, trying my best to re-instate my own vocal chords. Just as I was about to squeak out a response, a mindless gasp fell from my lips as Chris ducked his head down; his face buried in my neck.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but once they opened they immediately landed on Matt’s tense figure sitting on the couch. His eyes were wide open, showing me just how badly he was suffering in that moment. The sheer need radiating from his gaze on me was infiltrating my mind, but the feeling of Chris’s warm breath dancing against my neck made it difficult for anything else to matter.

A whisper-soft moan slipped from my lips as Chris’s tongue delicately swiped against my clammy skin, and on instinct my hands flew to the back of his hair. Noticing my pitiful reaction, Chris chuckled against my skin. “I think I have my answer.” He whispered before pulling away from my neck and instead resuming our mind-numbingly erotic staring contest.“Matt get out.” Chris ordered, not even bothering to pull his hungry eyes away from me. As soon as Matt groaned, huffing out a disappointed “Fuck” as he headed for his room, Chris’s ravenous mouth was on mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath from the sheer dominance of his mouth. Lips tumbling in urgency, I felt his tongue toy with my lips; begging for entrance. Obliging, I moaned softly as his warm tongue flicked into my mouth, running against my own in slow, intoxicating movements. “Chris.” I panted, my voice thick with lust as his rapacious mouth began travelling down my neck. His hands snaked up my body, taking their time along my bare legs and stomach before tugging against the hem of my bunched up tank.

“Off.” He growled authoritatively. Without hesitating, I threw the thin white material over my head and let it drop to the floor. As soon as my pebbled tits were exposed, Chris’s greedy hands cupped onto them; exploring their shape as his thumbs ran along my sensitive nipples. Goosebumps raised on my skin at the feeling of his covetous, almost controlling touch. His hands and mouth moved as though he had no control over them — as though they owned the body that they were exploring.

His mouth dropped down to my chest. Taking one of my nipples in his mouth, a deep moan vibrated against my blazing skin. I laced my fingers through his hair, tugging gently against his roots as pleasure surged through my body. “Fuck, I’m so hard Y/n.” He said roughly as he nibbled at my skin. Mouth watering from the need he was exhibiting so transparently, my legs widened subconsciously as I writhed for more contact. “Let me h-help then.” I replied, my voice airy from how breathless he was making me.

Chris immediately straightened up, standing in front of me. Holding the bottom of his t-shirt up between his teeth, he began fumbling wildly with his belt. As soon as the metal unbuckled, my hands flew to his jeans, my own desperation causing me to yank down his zipper and slip his baggy pants and boxers down just enough to allow his swollen cock to spring free. As soon as the cold air brushed against his leaking tip, Chris released a gasp of relief. “Fuck, need your mouth.” He muttered, his droopy eyes peering down at me as I took in the immeasurable size of his length.

As I sat frozen in shock, the silky skin of his tip brushed against my pouting lips, snapping me out of my hypnosis. I opened my mouth, granting him the ability to place his cock on my tongue. I looked up at him through my lashes, taking in his panicky and disheveled appearance as his desperate cock pulsed against my drooling tongue. Slowly, I wrapped my lips around his girth, sucking in my cheeks lightly; earning a sharp groan and an indignant thrust of his hips. My eyes stayed glued to his as I began swirling my tongue along his swollen ridge, his salty pre-cum dissolving against my satisfied taste buds.

His jaw went slack as he watched me, deep in a trance. His hands found the back of my head, where he laced his strong fingers through my wavy hair; seeming to put up a fight against an all-consuming urge to sink all eight inches down my welcoming throat. Just as his eyes darkened, seconds from losing all self-control, I gave him some of the relief he was dying for by slowly bobbing my head up and down his veiny shaft. A long hiss escaped his mouth, his eyes burned into the sight before him — into me — as I took more and more of him in my mouth on each movement.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his words clipped, as his hands tightened in my hair. Slowly, I noticed him use his grip on my head to help guide my movements; sliding my mouth along his cock in a steady rhythm. As I looked up at him, I noticed the tension rolling throughout his entire body — his abdomen flexed, arms veiny, face reddening — caused by the self-restrain he was so obviously practicing combined with the crushing arousal that he was experiencing. To help him, I relaxed my throat and gave up moving my head on my own. He noticed my sudden lack of movement, but after scanning my face in concern for a moment, quickly accepted my wordless offering by slowly rolling his hips.

He moved gently at first, his eyes trained on mine as though he was gauging where my limitations stood. With each thrust, he slid his cock just a little further down my throat, until finally my nose was pressed taut against the sprinkle of hair along his pelvis. He held me there for a moment, looking down in awe at the sight of every inch of him buried in my warm, wet mouth. As I began tightening my throat around his shaft, growing restless, his breath seemed to grow more and more ragged — until all at once his self-control seemed to vanish.

I gasped around his cock as he suddenly grabbed my head with both hands, keeping me completely still as he began pounding his cock down my throat. Tears began forming in my eyes from the sheer force of his movements. “G-good girl.” He breathed, his eyes focused on my pink lips as they stretched to accommodate his laboured thrusts. I tried to moan — the lust emitting from Chris as he face fucked me caused my panties to flood — but my vocal chords were stifled by his ravaging cock. Instead, I turned into a zombie: my glossy eyes rolled to the back of my head as strings of saliva poured from the corners of my stretched out mouth.

Chris’s breathing grew so ragged that it was intimidating. Each rough thrust drew a guttural moan from his lips, making my head spin with desire. Suddenly, my eyes flew open in shock as Chris used his strong grip on my hair to pull me back; my head now pressed firmly against the back of the couch as he drove his cock down my throat. Unable to breathe, I entered a foreign state of ecstasy as Chris planted one of his legs onto the couch to get even deeper access; pushing me to my limits.

Just as I was about to grab onto his leg and, with pleading eyes, let him know I needed a break, the most erotic moan I had ever heard fell from his swollen lips. “G-gonna cum baby.” He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he seemed to focus on the overwhelming build up inside of him. Flooded with arousal, I suddenly regained the ability to take his strained, erratic thrusts. “You look so fuckin’ good with my cock in your mouth.” He groaned, his words punctuated by his sharp thrusts. I released an unsteady whimper in response, staring up at his haggard face.

“Shiiit.” Chris’ voice was drawn out as he made one final thrust, letting his cock hit the back of my throat one last time before I felt his warm seed erupt; filling my drooling mouth with thick ropes of the salty fluid as his cock twitched against my tongue. I kept my eyes on his as I eagerly swallowed his cum, and watched as his glazed-over expression of bliss switched to one much more alert and hungry.

Very slowly, he pulled his still-hard cock out of my mouth with a pop. I stayed perfectly still, staring up at him with an inquisitorial look in my eyes, and flinched when I felt his thumb run along my bottom lip to collect his spilt seed before pushing it back in between my lips. After eagerly lapping up the residue, my lips were once again engulfed by Chris’s. He moaned at the taste of himself on my tongue, and his hands wasted no time before tugging down my shorts.

He detached his lips from mine, leaving me a panting mess, as his gaze was pulled to my trembling heat. Just barely concealed by my soaking wet thong, I felt my slippery walls flex around nothing from his attention alone. Chris hooked his fingers into the waistband of my thong, pulling it down my legs torturously slow as I watched his chest rise and fall. Once I was fully exposed, the cold air against my swollen clit caused me to widen my legs; begging for his warm touch.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” Chris breathed, his voice an almost-whisper, as he ran his hands along my upper thighs. Once they reached my outer-most folds, he used his thumbs to spread me apart; admiring the way my juices dripped down to his knuckles. I trembled, feeling erotically pinned down by both his powerful hands and strong gaze, dying for him to touch me. I noticed the way he was holding me so tightly, the way his lower lip was pulled between his teeth, before his eyes shot back up to mine. “Turn around.” He ordered gruffly.

Knowing that I didn’t have the willpower to refuse even if I had wanted to, I turned around. Spreading my legs wider and bending my knees, I leaned my exposed chest against the back of the couch for support as I became more and more aware of the heat radiating off of his famished body behind me. I felt the weight on the couch shift just before I felt his hand snake up my spine to once again lace through my messy hair; the warm, wet feeling of his tongue sending aftershocks along my over-reactive skin.

His chest, now completely bare, pressed against my back as his face nuzzled against my shoulder; nibbling gently with his front teeth. Arching my back, I gasped as his free hand came around to my front; finding my clit blindly before rubbing quick circles against it. A stunned moan of relief slipped from my lips, muffled by the soft fabric of the couch, as I felt my body begin to melt under his nimble fingers. “Fuck Chris, r-right there.” I breathed, engulfed in the pleasure of his steady movements.

“You’re so fuckin’ soaked baby,” He purred against my red-hot ear, “You sure you didn’t take a pill too?” His deep voice, laced with amusement, reverberated through my scattered brain. Attempting to laugh in response, I was cut short by the unmistakable feeling of his warm tip, still glossy from my mouth, pressing against my drooling slit. “Mmm.” I groaned, writhing slowly in an attempt to pull him into me.

Noticing this, Chris chuckled menacingly against my skin. “You want my cock pretty girl?” His words shot straight to my core, and aimlessly I tried to grab his poised length in my greedy hand. Tauntingly, he pulled his hips back so his cock was out of reach. “Wanna hear you say it.” He asserted, his fingers slowing against my bundle of nerves. Whining, I turned my head so that I could see his face to my right. Lids droopy, I spoke with urgency. “Please, Chris,” I felt a string of arousal slip down my thigh, “Please g-give me your c-cock.”

With a satisfied smirk across his face, Chris kept his eyes on mine as his hand abandoned my clit. Brows furrowed from the lack of contact, I was just about to let out a dissatisfied groan when I felt the heat of his cock press against my trembling core. I watched his eyes flutter from the feeling of my folds just beginning to wrap around him, and in one swift motion, he split me in half.

Gasping, I had no time to adjust to Chris’s sinful girth before he started pounding into me. My walls stretched more than they ever had before, but welcomed his cock graciously by spilling pools of arousal along its length. “Jesus Christ.” Chris moaned in my ear, overwhelming lust clear in his voice, though it didn’t seem to reign over his powerful movements. The sloppy, wet sounds of our bodies slapping together echoed throughout the living room, their provocative recoils muddling my thoughts.

Chris straightened himself up behind me, keeping his one hand knit through my hair but placing his other on my ass cheek; pressing down so that my back was arched as much as it could be. “You’re making a b-big fuckin’ mess on me baby.” He uttered, using his grip on my ass to spread me apart; admiring the sight of his cock disappearing inside of my oozing pussy. “F-feels so good.” I moaned in response, mouth going slack as I relished in the feeling of his cock squeeze through my spongey walls.

His pace began to quicken, my cunt trembling from the new rapid pace. I could barely lift my head from the back of the couch; his cock dominated every part of me. Deep, throaty groans slipped from his mouth every few seconds, his grip on my hair tightened as he struggled to keep up his pace. “Touch yourself.” He suddenly ordered, his voice rushed and gruff. With a moan, I brought my fingers to my clit where I began to draw tight circles in sync with Chris’s rhythm.

As my bundle of nerves danced between my trembling fingers, my pleasure was profoundly intensified. “Oh god!” I cried out, my voice sounding brutish to my own ears. “K-keep going C-Chris!” I felt myself begin to crumble, my climax violently approaching. As if reading my mind, he grunts from behind me. “You gonna cum?” Unable to respond with words, I nodded my head rapidly as I chewed on my bottom lip. A sharp slap against my ass caused me to gasp, my pussy starting to convulse around his rock hard length. “That’s a good girl, cum for me baby.”

His soft words worked paradoxically with his rough thrusts and stinging slap, and I was immediately hit by an orgasm so brutal, so all-consuming, that I felt my soul drift from my body. For a moment, my body stilled, void of any sign of life, as my orgasm constricted all of my senses. I felt nothing; heard nothing; saw nothing; until a wave of pleasure, the colour of blood, came screaming at me — attacking my nerves and bringing me back to life.

My legs shook, nails dug into the couch, back contorted to the point where it looked broken, as the scream of a possessed woman spilled from my mouth. Chris tightened his grip on my hair, pulling my head off of the couch and wrapping his free hand around my mouth to stifle my uncontrollable moans. As I cried out his name into his possessing hand, his movements slowed tremendously; my spasming cunt suffocating his cock. “J-Jesus.” Chris panted from behind me, struggling to keep his composure as he slowly sunk himself into me; doing his best to drive me through my high before he lost all control.

I began to gain composure over my body as my orgasm subsided — I could feel my weak limbs and filter the words that spilled from my lips. Soft moans still escaped, however, as Chris continued to fuck me slowly; hissing between his teeth as he inched closer and closer to his own high. I felt my depleted walls continue to stretch for him, and fell into a slight hypnosis from the steady movements of our conjoined bodies.

“Turn around.” Chris’s urgent voice startled me back to my senses. He suddenly pulled his cock out of me in one quick movement, and as he did, I turned around to face him. Leaning with my back against the couch, I watched as he angled himself closer to me, pumping his red, swollen cock in his hand. After a few rapid jerks, Chris let out a deep guttural moan, shuddering before spilling his warm, milky, cum along my tits. My hungry eyes flittered between his face — eyes screwed shut in bliss, puffy lips pulled apart slightly, jaw tense — and the filthy portrait he was painting across my clammy skin.

Once a pool of his seed had collected in between my full tits, Chris released one more soft grunt before opening his eyes. They focused on his signature for a moment, before drifting up to my face; a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he took in my spent appearance. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss to my lips before using his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess he had made on my chest.

“Well, that turned out to be a pretty fun game.” He whispered, his words laced with humour. My eyes followed his gentle movements across my skin; watching as he took his time and made sure he left my skin seemingly untouched. Chuckling, all of my energy drained, I looked back up at his crimson-tinted face. “Let’s thank Matt.” I replied, laughing at the repulsed expression that took over his features. “You’re sick, kid.” He retorted, shaking his head, but I noticed the shameless smile creeping over his lips.

“I was kiddingggg,” I laughed, reaching for my discarded clothes, “Do you feel better though?” I asked, to which Chris dropped his gaze to his cock — still red and standing up flush against his stomach — looking back to me with a raised eyebrow as though he was saying, ‘What’s it look like?’. Chuckling, I grab my top and begin trying to put it on. “Sorry dude, I did the best I could.” Just as my vision was restricted by the material of my top over my eyes, I squealed as I felt Chris lift me up; bending me over his shoulder as he stood up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, my voice broken by laughter as I jokingly pounded on his shoulder. He was walking, now, and I couldn’t control my childish giggles as I tried to get my tank top off of my head. “We’re gonna go take a shower.” He replied just as I felt him begin to descend the stairs leading to his bedroom. “Maybe one more time will do the trick.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[thetriumphantpanda]

new religion | joel miller

Summary | Joel's never much been a religious man, but if he were, he'd ask the Lord what he'd ever done to deserve you.

Pairing | Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.5k

Warnings | Explicit. Religious imagery, basically porn without plot, oral (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, cumshot, dirty talk, Joel worshipping you like you deserve, nothing bad happens to him ever and he dies peacefully in his sleep at age 101, no use of y/n. Written and edited on phone so please excuse any mistakes.

Authors Note | God bless hbo for that teaser am I right? I just want Jackson Joel to always find peace. Also thanks to All Time Low and their song New Religion for the Inspo. I hope you enjoy!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi 

Divider by the ever wonderful @saradika

I found God and we found heaven, On the bedroom floor.

Joel Miller isn’t sure how he got here. Knees creaking and painful, a dull ache in his back that never goes away, and years behind him that have led him to right now.

Years of being closed off, scared to open up to anyone in case he failed them as well. Years of using his anger at himself to reign terror on others. Years with Tommy that were strained, years with Tess that were less so, even good sometimes, and now years with Ellie, good, bad and everything in between. The relative safety of Jackson was unsettling, after years of fighting to survive and barely making it, scars on his body testimony to that, the normality was unsettling.

He’s getting used to it though, slowly but surely, and he thinks that along with his brother and Ellie, it has something to do with you.

You, stood in front of him, backlit by the setting sun, nude and waiting, whilst he kneels in front of you. Pained be damned, he’s going to worship you like the goddess you are.

Tommy has spent the past year absolutely rinsing his older brother for this. When Joel and Ellie had arrived back, he’d made it his mission to set Joel up with one of the many fawning ladies available. There was Esther, who was nice enough, and Lindsey who had been far too forthcoming, and others that Joel would rather not remember, telling Tommy that he didn’t need anyone, didn’t want anyone, was more than happy on his own.

Then he’d met you, sunshine to his clouds, sharp, quick-witted and funny. A take-no-shit kind of gal that had gotten under his skin more than he cared to admit. The first few times it was quick, fumbles in the alley behind the tipsy bison, or hurried moments bent over the dusty couch at the lookout on patrol, convincing himself that once again this was nothing but stress relief.

Then things changed, you started making him laugh, started sitting on his porch with him, laying on his couch whilst he played his guitar, and then he started spreading you out on his bed, started taking his time, learning what made you respond best, how you liked it, how you clenched so tight around him when he clasped your fingers in his and pounded you into the mattress.

Joel has never been much of a religious man, not since the end of the world, but he thinks, right here on your bedroom floor, that he’s found God. When you walk towards him and run your hands through his greying hair, tilt his chin up so he’s looking at you, hands on your hips like you’re his altar.

He brings his face closer to you, tongue licking through your folds as you stand before him. Your fingers tighten in his hair when the tip of his tongue finds your clit, your own head tipping back, face to the real Lord if he exists, muttering his name over and over in your own twisted prayer.

His jeans are tightening as he licks at you, the sounds you make doing what they always do, shooting straight to his cock. It’s why he can’t quit this, even if in the back of his mind he knows he probably should. You’re younger than him, though not scandalously, and he can feel that the years of his prime are fading the more comfortable he gets here. He knows that wanting you as much as he does is a sin in itself, but walking away? That somehow seems worse to him. He finally wants to be selfish, to think of himself and his own happiness for once, and it’s the taste of you on his tongue when he drags it down to where you’re leaking for him that convinces him he has to stay.

“Oh, Joel,” You whimper, knees shaking, “Keep going.”

“Ain’t plannin’ on goin’ anywhere, pretty girl.” He groans into your pussy, his big hands holding your hips in place to keep you upright as his tongue drags back up from your fluttering hole to your clit.

You widen your stance a little, spreading the lips of your cunt for him so he can fuse his mouth over your clit, suckling at it whilst his tongue works against the swollen bud in the way that he knows will have you tipped over the edge in no time.

He loves when you come for him. A reminder that he’s still got it, that he can learn your ins and outs and keep you satisfied, even at his age. He has to press his fingers into your hips a little tighter when you do come for him, keeping you upright before you knees can buckle underneath you as you cry his name out into the darkening room. Pulling his mouth away from you before you start whimpering that it’s too much.

Normally he’d pull you over to the bed, but there’s something in him tonight that means he can’t wait the extra seconds, so he’s pulling you down onto the floor with him, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands so you don’t hit in on the wood as he crawls on top of you, legs spread wide for his thighs as he pops the buttons of his jeans and drags the zipper down.

He’s in too much of a rush to undress properly, pulling his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. You’re reaching down, taking his length in your hand, dragging it up and down as he pulls his shirt over his head.

There are tiny droplets of sweat across your forehead, the open window and the breeze no match for the heat in the room, and he doesn’t know why he does it, but as he leans down, your hand guiding his cock to your soaked cunt, he lets his lips kiss across your forehead, like it’s holy water and he’s being reborn as he slips into your tight heat.

He doesn’t think he’s heard a sweeter sound than the ones he hears from you as he drags his cock in and out of your pussy. Gasps and whines and whimpers, never too loud, like they’re just for him. No-one else needs to know how good he makes you feel, just him. He presses his mouth to yours as he grips your wrists, pinning them to floor, swallowing your sounds as he fucks you.

Joel knows that it takes him a little longer these days, knows from the way you’re squirming that the ache in your hips is setting in. He knows that your body aches the same as his does, that your back aches and your knees hurt after a long patrol, but you’re being so good for him.

“Such a good girl,” He coos into your ear, “Y’can take it, can’t you?”

You arch your body up into him at his praise, “It’s so good,” You moan, your hands reaching behind him to sink your nails into the meat of his ass, “Harder, please.”

He can never deny you, so he pushes himself up, takes your knees in his hands and presses them down towards your chest, hooking his arms there to keep you spread open as he guides his cock back into you. He can feel his own sweat appearing across his skin as he does exactly what you asked for, he fucks you harder, as hard as he can, listening to the squeals you make as he bottoms out inside you and the slapping of his skin against yours.

“M’close,” He moans at you, “M’gonna come, baby.”

“Please,” You groan back, squirming underneath him, “Come for me Joel, please.”

And he does, pulling out at the very last minute, letting go of your legs to pump his cock with his fist before he comes, splashing his spend across your belly as he tips his head back and praises the Lord for you.

He knows he will pay for it tomorrow, but he collapses onto the floor next to you, pulling you into his chest. He can feel the sticky cum mixing with the hair across his stomach, but he doesn’t much care, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you settle together on the cool ground. His fingers trail up and down your spine as you lie together in the quiet of the early evening, finding peace with it all for once. After years and years of being on his own, of being scared to open up and let someone in, he finds he doesn’t much mind the thought of it anymore.

And above all, whether he makes it to the real thing or not when his time is up, that he’s found heaven, right here on your bedroom floor.

[avocado-writing]

Have you considered Wolverine reacting to his girlfriend having lingerie with his name on it? And I don’t mean cutesy cartoony, I mean like pretty lacy stuff.

alexa play ‘better man’ by paolo nutini

“Give me like, five more seconds…”

Logan does not necessarily like surprises. He’s too old to be sitting here with his eyes closed for you, but you were so excited when you asked him to play along. Fuck, you are his weak point. You nestled your way in close to his heart and made a home there, and now he’s absolute putty in your hands. 

Wade had made comments about him being ‘whipped’. Wade had also gotten his tongue ripped out of his head. There had been a correlation between these two events. 

“Ready?”

He feels you move in close to him, the soft scent of your perfume, the barest hint of sweat on your skin. His hands automatically come to settle on your hips, their favourite perch, and he can feel lace under his callused palms. 

“Open your eyes, baby.”

The sight of you hits him like a freight train. You look almost bashful, averting your eyes as you present yourself to him all wrapped up in red. Fuck. The babydoll you’re in skims down your body in all the right places, tight little panties showing off the curve of your ass. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“What do you think?”

He has to try and find words to answer that, and it’s difficult, because you’ve already made him half-hard just by looking like you do. 

“Fuck. You look… fuck,” is what he manages. You giggle and oh, isn’t it just perfect. You’re perfect. What did he do to deserve you?

“The choker is my favourite part,” you whisper, voice low, hooking a finger between your pulse and the thin band of silk in order to show it off. He looks and his heart stops in his chest. There, embroidered, is his name; Logan wrapped around your throat.  

In order to show his appreciation he reaches forward to run his teeth along the line of your chest. You let out a little squeal as he makes his way up, mouthing at every inch of hot soft skin that he can find, a gentle bite placed over your jugular before he brings you in to kiss properly. 

“I’m gonna rip these off,” he states, voice thick, thumbing under your waistband. You walk your fingers up his chest and hit him with the doe-eyes. 

“Baby… can you use the claws?” 

For you? Anything. 

[downbad4sylus]

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

synopsis: You and Sylus visit a coffee shop and unexpectedly run into Doctor Zayne.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; pre-relationship; zayne cameo; just, so much fluff; mostly proofread

word count: ~2k

a/n: see guys, i’m capable of writing not-angst. also can you tell i have a headcanon about them holding hands while linked or what lol. anyway, i love exploring the dynamics of sylus with the other LIs, i have another one brewing ft. our resident doctor (NOT ANGST) and i’ll probably do some with the others in the future. if anyone has anything they want me try and write for them, please feel free to ask, im happy to do so :)

Dragging Sylus out in Linkon City during the day was never easy, but when a certain energy linkage was keeping you locked to each other’s sides and you just had to have your morning coffee, Sylus was a bit more agreeable.

So there you both stood, waiting in line to order. You’d developed a bit of a habit of holding hands as you’d long since grown used to the linkage binding your wrists. Sylus’s hand dwarfed yours, something that took time to get accustomed to, but now the feeling of his fingers laced with yours was a comfort, and admittedly something you often craved without the linkage.

“Will you let me pay for you this time?” you asked Sylus, peering up at him.

He breathed a low chuckle. “Don’t think so, sweetie,” he replied.

“You never let me pay for anything,” you grumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You tugged Sylus along as you stepped up to the cashier. After placing both your orders (and begrudgingly allowing Sylus to pay), you waited off to the side for your names to be called.

“I’d like to go for a walk after this, if that’s okay,” you said to Sylus. It was overcast today, weather Sylus was more comfortable to be in during the day, you’d noticed.

“That’s fine,” Sylus said. “Where would you like to go?”

You beamed at him. “Actually, there’s a park not far from here, and since the leaves are starting to turn the scenery should be perfect for a—”

“Y/N?”

You whirled around at the sound of your name, spoken by an all too familiar voice.

“Zayne?”

Sure enough, there was your primary care physician, standing with his brow slightly furrowed and his gaze locked on yours and Sylus’s intertwined hands.

“I wasn’t expecting to run into you here,” you commented, drawing his attention from your hand to your eyes.

“This coffee shop isn’t far from the hospital, I stop here in the mornings quite often,” Zayne said. His hazel eyes flicked to Sylus. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Right, Doctor Zayne this is Sy—uh, Skye, he’s…” you trailed off, panic seizing your mind as you fumbled for any explanation as to why you were here with Sylus, holding his hand, that wasn’t the actual truth.

“Her boyfriend,” Sylus lied smoothly, sticking out his unoccupied hand at Zayne. “It’s nice to finally meet you, doctor, Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

You missed the nearly imperceptible flare of Zayne’s eyes at Sylus’s answer, too busy short circuiting over the fact that Sylus had just introduced himself as your boyfriend. When had you gone from “besties” to “boyfriend?”

“Nice to meet you too,” Zayne said politely, shaking Sylus’s hand. “Y/N, you never told me you were seeing someone.”

Sylus laughed. “We only just became official.”

You finally managed to regain your composure. “Right, and I haven’t been by for an appointment since then, otherwise I would’ve told you,” you said, bolstering the lie.

Zayne nodded, as if satisfied by your answers. “Well, then I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Oh, Zayne please, that’s not necessary,” you insisted. A barista called for your orders, which Sylus grabbed and handed to you before taking his own. “Zayne, why don’t you come sit with us? Unless you have important doctor business to take care of.”

Zayne’s lips tilted ever so slightly at your teasing remark. “Sure, I have some time before I have to get back.”

Once Zayne received his coffee, the three of you found an unoccupied table and sat, with you and Sylus on one side, hands still clasped, and Zayne on the other.

“So, how long have you two been seeing each other?” Zayne asked with clinical precision, his stare just as sharp.

“Quite a few months now,” Sylus said. His bright red eyes focused on you. “Y/N practically fell on my doorstep, and I guess you could say the rest is history.”

You snorted, though your cheeks were as red as Sylus’s eyes. “That’s one way to describe it,” you muttered.

“What, sweetie? Would you explain it differently?” Sylus asked, raising a brow.

You shook your head. “No, yours was fine,” you quipped.

“How kind,” Sylus drawled.

You glanced at Zayne and found him watching the two of you with his head tilted. Mirth danced in his hazel eyes, as if observing the “happy couple” was amusing.

“How’s work been, Doctor Zayne?” you asked.

“Fine, the usual,” he answered. “And you? Any injuries you haven’t told me about either?”

“No,” you said firmly. “I’ve been very careful.”

Zayne’s lips curled. “I have a hard time believing that. Skye, has our Hunter been careful lately?”

Sylus’s fingers twitched around yours but his expression didn’t falter. “To everyone’s surprise, she has. No secret injuries to report.”

Zayne made a satisfied hum. “What do you do for work Skye?”

You stiffened. Nothing caused you more anxiety than when someone asked Sylus too many questions. He was a practiced smooth talker, able to craft a believable lie without a second thought, but you still couldn’t help worrying. The last thing you wanted was for him to be recognized, for him to be taken away from you.

Sylus rubbed his thumb along yours soothingly. “I own a few small businesses here and there,” he told the doctor.

“He runs a fruit stall!” you chimed in excitedly.

“That’s one of the few,” Sylus chuckled.

“I had some of his watermelon once at a work function he happened to be catering,” you continued. The very same work function Sylus had called you “besties.” Sylus really was your best friend though, you realized so suddenly your heart practically skipped a beat.

“Well, I’m glad that business is good then,” Zayne said.

You and Zayne then slipped into a casual conversation, catching up on the recent happenings in each other’s lives, while Sylus remained more of a quiet observer.

Actually, Sylus was debating on whether or not to kill (or seriously maim) your primary care physician.

Sylus would never admit to being jealous, but his chest tightened watching you speak to the doctor, hearing the way you laughed at his eerily similar dry humor. He knew you’d been childhood friends and had a long history, but it certainly didn’t help that the way Zayne looked at you was the exact same way Sylus looked at you. And he hadn’t missed the flash of longing in Zayne’s eyes when he’d first spotted your clasped hands at the counter. It was why Sylus had gone out of his way to introduce himself as your boyfriend, even if it meant speeding up his timeline with you a little.

However, Sylus couldn’t deny that Zayne’s role as your primary care physician was an important one, crucial even. He was a renowned cardiac surgeon and an expert in Protocore Syndrome, making him perhaps the only person equipped to help with your heart condition. So Sylus would let him live, because you would be upset with him if he didn’t, and because he was a valuable asset.

Finishing the last of his coffee, Zayne flipped his wrist, checking the time on his watch. “I’m afraid I have to get going now, my break is almost over,” he declared, rising from his seat. “It was nice meeting you Skye, and I’ll see you for your next check up soon, Y/N. No getting hurt in the meantime, okay?”

“Hey! I told you I was being careful!” you exclaimed.

Zayne gave Sylus a withering look. “It’s good to know there’s someone else who understands Y/N’s penchant for danger.”

Sylus recognized the comment for what it was, a white flag thrown at his feet.

Brow cocked and mouth tilted, Sylus picked it up. “Her recklessness knows no bounds.”

“Since when did this become a gang-up-on-Y/N session?” you questioned.

Both Zayne and Sylus chuckled.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Zayne said. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“I’m sure,” Sylus replied.

“It was nice seeing you Doctor Zayne!” you called after him as he swiftly took his leave.

You and Sylus left shortly thereafter, going to the park you had mentioned to walk amongst the multicolored trees. The linkage dissipated on the way over, but Sylus never let go of your hand.

And now alone with him, your thoughts spiraled.

You couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him, you had for quite a while. You two had been spending a lot of time together recently, whether it was you frequenting Onychinus’s base and ruining your sleep schedule, or him staying over at your apartment and ruining his sleep schedule. But even so, you weren’t sure if Sylus felt the same about you, and now that he’d so casually introduced himself as your boyfriend, you didn’t know what to think.

“I think I see steam coming out of your ears, sweetie.”

You whipped your head toward him. “Why would you say that?”

He smirked. “You’re thinking very loudly. Tell me, what is it?”

It was hard to deny him when he spoke so softly, something he reserved for you and you alone.

“Why did you say you were my boyfriend?” you asked quietly, averting your gaze.

“Because it was easier than explaining our actual relationship,” Sylus said simply.

“And what, exactly, is our actual relationship?”

His brow quirked. “I was under the impression we were something far more than just boyfriend and girlfriend, unless I’ve misread the situation.”

You pulled him to a stop, gaping at him. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Of course I’m being serious, when have I ever not been?” Sylus tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Have I misread the situation, sweetie?”

It was rare to see Sylus nervous, if that was what you could call it.

You shook your head. “No, I just—I had no idea you felt that way.”

Sylus huffed. “Y/N, I told you that I adore you, that there is no love purer than mine, what else could I have meant by that?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured.

He brought your entwined hands up to his lips, kissing the back of yours. “Talk to me, kitten.”

“Are you saying you love me?” you blurted.

Sylus grinned. “I am,” he said.

“Then say it,” you demanded.

He tugged your hand and you fell into his chest. His free hand threaded into your hair and tilted your head up to look at him, into those mesmerizing red eyes.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his deep voice so tender it made your heart flutter.

“Sylus,” you breathed. You reached up and cupped his cheek, tears welling in your eyes. “I love you too.”

He huffed a disbelieving chuckle before pressing the most gentle kiss to your forehead. “We should’ve run into your doctor sooner,” he murmured against your skin.

You reared back, slapping his chest. “Don’t ruin our moment!”

Sylus only laughed in response.

Finally letting go of your hand, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer. Your own arms twined around his neck, stretching on your tip toes to better maintain eye contact.

“So where does this leave us?” you asked.

Sylus shrugged a shoulder. “Where do you want it to leave us?”

You smiled. “Well, I guess you’re my boyfriend now, even though you never formally asked me to be your girlfriend.”

His lips twitched. “Would you like me to perform a grand gesture?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“All right, kitten, then I hope you look forward to it.”

[artdcnaldson]

whoa imagine patrick and art teaching how you how to blow them next? and then they like take turns with you giving hands-on demonstrations of how they think you’d like to be touched and fucked and taken care of? it’s not exactly a competition but they both want to do better and make you feel better than the other so it kind of is

Yeah 😌🩷

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Patrick x Reader x Art throuple dynamics, blowjob lessons <3, guys being pervy little manipulating snakes (affectionately)

A/N: I’m obsessed. Everyone say hiiii sex lessons au. Unedited sozz

You get week of you jerking one or both of them off whenever you’re alone together until Patrick decides to test the waters.

“You can put your mouth on it,” he says, when you’ve taken him into your grasp, nice and slow while you kiss him the intense, hungry way he’d taught you.

Your eyes widen slightly, and he swears he can hear your pulse thrumming.

“Patrick,” Art says, a warning. He’s on the other end of the bed, trying his best to study for a midterm while his friend is getting jerked off three feet away. He’d sit on the floor… but he’s ready to hop off the bench the second you or Patrick invite him to play.

Patrick rolls his eyes in annoyance. Art was so fucking dense sometimes. He knew Art wanted it just as bad, probably more because he was so goddamn repressed. He knew Art always wanted the same things he wanted, no matter how depraved, or how embarrassed he was to admit it. “What? I think it’s about time she learns to suck cock.”

“Jesus Christ, Pat,” you say with a nervous laugh. His lips quirk slightly. He fucking loves how embarrassed you can get, how one dirty word makes you hide your face like a shy little virgin. You were shy, but he was working on that last part.

He grins, runs a thumb along your bottom lip. It’s slick with spit, swollen from kissing him. God, is it such a crime that he wants those lips wrapped around his dick? “C’mon, you’ll like it,” he says, brushing his lips along your jaw, right below your ear. “You like jerking us off, right? It’s even better.”

You nod, leaning back to meet his gaze. “Will you show me?”

Patrick glances over at Art, who has pushed his textbook and notes out of the way entirely. “You heard her, Art, come show her.”

“Jesus, you can ask,” Art says, face scrunched in annoyance. You know there’s know malice, though— he wants it just as bad. You shift off of Patrick’s lap and sit beside him, where you get the perfect view of Art between his thighs. He tugs the brunet’s boxers down his thighs, tosses them absently across the room.

“Pay attention, honey,” Patrick tells you. He runs a hand through shaggy blond curls, making sure you watch as Art places wet kisses to his tip. Patrick moans, impatient, but relishing in the way your mouth falls open slightly, how your eyes widen.

Art opens his mouth wider and slowly eases Patrick’s cock inside. It’s wet, messy. Drool spills from the sides of his mouth, down the length of Patrick’s cock. It gathers at his base, drips down his balls. You watch Art’s cheeks hollow as he takes him deeper, how his eyes fill with water.

Patrick’s fingers press against your lips, pointer and middle, seeking entrance. You open your mouth and let him push his fingers in— salty like skin and sweat. It isn’t until they’re in your mouth that you realized how long they are, as they slip towards the back of your tongue and your mouth fills with spit and you gag. Patrick withdraws his fingers, stringy with spit, and grins.

“Try again for me— try to take ‘em deeper.”

Patrick’s riding high— your lips wrapped around his fingers as he pushes them in and out of your mouth, Art sucking his dick like a champ— he can’t ask for much more.

“Are you paying attention to Art?” You gag slightly as his fingers nudge the back of your throat, eyes stinging with tears. You shake your head and redirect your attention. “Look how deep he can take me. You’ll be able to do that soon, won’t you?”

To demonstrate his point, he pushes Art down by the back of his head, makes Art gag and moan around the intrusion. “Use your tongue, baby.” Neither of you knows who he’s talking to, so you both follow the order.

He keeps both of you there for god knows how long— laving him with attention. Art looks right at home, lashes splayed against his cheeks, head bobbing as he works Patrick’s dick. And you, eyes wide and starry with the need to impress him, to take advantage of all he could possibly teach you. I mean, fuck, he could tell you to jump and you’d ask how high.

He lets his best friend bring him to the edge, feels so deliciously close that he loses himself in it.

“Fuck, Art—“ Patrick cries out, tangling his fist into the blond’s hair for purchase. “Your fuckin’ mouth is something else. C’mon, take me down your throat. That’s it—“

Patrick comes with a groan, spilling down Art’s throat. Art, to his credit, swallows down everything Patrick gives him before pulling back, lips swollen and slick.

Patrick slips his fingers from your mouth— strings of spit connecting the two. He wipes his fingers on your cheek, pats it twice before dropping his hand.

“Think you can handle Art?” He asks with a grin. “He’s smaller than me, it’ll be easier for your first time, huh?”

Art slaps his arm, hard enough to leave a mark. “By fucking half an inch you asshole.”

Patrick rolls his eyes with a knowing smile, but doesn’t dig. “Alright then, Donaldson, whip it out. Her mouth’s fucking watering for it over here.”

Art scowls, but the thought of you sucking his dick is enough to smooth over his mildly bruised ego. He makes quick work of shucking off his clothes and leans against the headboard beside Patrick.

God, someone should take a picture. You’re settled between his legs, on your knees so your ass is up when you bring your mouth to Art’s cock. Your tongue peeks between your lips and you give a few testing kitten licks to his tip.

He moans, soft and pretty. You feel hands in your hair, petting you almost. You blink lazily, peering up to look at Art as you place slow open mouthed kisses to his shaft.

When you take him into your mouth, you feel his grip on your hair tighten, just enough to make you gasp. He’s warm and heavy on your tongue, salty with precum.

Even going slow, you can’t manage to fit much of him in your mouth. You gag with each attempt to take him deeper, eyes watering before you pull off and gasp for air. They watch your valiant efforts, getting off on the fucking filthy sounds of you gagging on Art and the sight of spit spilling down his cock.

“Here—“ Art says, taking one of your hands to wrap around his base. “Just follow your mouth with that. You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

“First fucking time he’s ever had to say that,” Patrick says with a grin. Art punches his shoulder hard enough that the brunet yelps.

With your hand attending to what doesn’t fit in your mouth, it’s easier. Art’s so easy to get worked up— so easy to bring to the edge. Patrick’s mouthing at his throat, and Art tilts his head to grant him more access. He always complains after about the marks— Art always bruises easy, like a fucking peach. 

“Just like that,” Art praises. It doesn’t feel like you’re doing a great job, but he looks like he’s having a real fucking nice time. “Keep going, baby. Doing so good.”

“We’re teaching her, so teach her,” Patrick says after he grows bored of the slow, sweet head you’re giving the blond. Patrick’s hand moves to the back of your head, pushing you further down until your throat constricts instinctively and your eyes widen in surprise.

“I know you can take more. Just need some exposure therapy. Breathe through your nose— that’s it— good girl.” You will yourself to relax, to center yourself. He didn’t push you far, just enough that Art is brushing against the back of your tongue.

Your mouth fills with saliva, and you swallow around the intrusion, making Art practically whine. “F-fuck Patrick— let her up—“ he groans. It’s then that Patrick moves his hand, letting you pull up and get a large gulp of air. Your face feels hot, your jaw aches slightly.

Art brushes your hair from your face tenderly. “Keep your mouth open like that, okay?” You nod, let him rest the head of his cock on the center of your tongue. He replaces your hand with his own, jerking himself off quickly, methodically.

You nearly flinch as the first rope of cum hits your tongue— warm, salty, thick. You’re caught off guard by the sheer volume of it— you’d felt it coat your hand, but it’s different when it’s spilling directly onto your tongue. He’s panting as he finishes, and you’re left sitting with a mouthful of cum. You swallow it like bitter medicine, like you’d seen girls do in porn.

“How was it?” You ask Art.

“Good for a first try,” he says. “We’ll let you practice, get you ready for when you get boyfriend.”

A/N: Tashi incoming <3 imagine her reaction when she finds out these boys haven’t been making you cum 😵‍💫

[ccarlislecc]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a werewolf Gojo and Geto with a female reader? A smut would be nice if possible but if you have any other ideas I’m down to ready anything!! I hope you have an amazing day/night! 😊

all bark, no bite -> satoru & suguru have been fighting over you for a long time, but maybe finally, they’ll learn how to share

gojo & geto were like brothers. they like the same movies, the same clothes, the same girl. & they fought over everything. you didn’t know if it was a friend thing or a wolf thing; probably just a gojo & geto thing. it was always a competition. who could run faster, who could jump higher, who could fuck you better? & it’s not that you wanted to string either of them along, per se, but how could you possibly choose between one or the other. 

you weren’t entirely unfamiliar with hybrids, but not being one yourself, it was hard to say whether their animalistic rivalry was because of that side of them, or if their friendship was just that extreme. you know that they’re good friends, probably smart enough to not let some girl come in between that, but it’s a freudian slip that has you doubting yourself. 

they’d been trying to pin you down for weeks. who was better, which one did you want? almost jokingly, you laughed & shrugged & said, “what if I want you both?” 

the words had barely left your mouth when you saw their eyes flash with something primal. a low growl rumbled from geto's chest, while gojo's lips curled into a predatory smirk. the air in the room suddenly felt charged, electric. then gojo's lips curled into that infuriating smirk of his. “both, huh? think you can handle us?”

geto circled behind you, his breath hot on your neck. ‘you think you can take us both? together?” they moved in perfect sync, circling you like predators. this was uncharted territory, dangerous & thrilling all at once. 

your heart raced as their presence surrounded you, making you feel small & vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated. you swallowed hard, your mouth dry. "I…I don't know. maybe? that isn’t really what I m-m–”

“aww, c’mon, don’t back down now, sweetheart. can’t say somethin’ like that n’then take it back,” geto purs, slipping a hand up your shirt, nosing at the back of your ear, down your neck, as gojo grips your chin, tilting your head up to his. your breath catches in your throat as gojo's piercing blue eyes lock onto yours. his thumb traces your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine, & you look…scared, prey-like, & gojo’s almost embarrassed to admit how hard that makes him. "we're just getting started," gojo murmurs, his voice low & husky, & geto hums in agreement, hands wandering farther & farther, one of his thumbs hooking the waistband of your pants down slowly & the other pushing at your bra. gojo herding the both of you to the bed. 

"don't worry," geto whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "we'll take good care of you." your eyes flicker closed as gojo leans in, his lips barely grazing yours. "just relax," he says softly. "let us make you feel good." & he says it with such determination that you can’t hardly object. 

with a gentle tug, he removes your sticky panties, revealing a clear trail of your arousal. as he admires your glistening folds & teases your sensitive clit with his fingers, satoru is positioned in front of you by suguru. completely under suguru's control, satoru follows his every direction without hesitation, but he can’t help sticking his face in your pretty cunt, tongue lapping at your mess, nosing bumping against your clit, whining at how good you taste. suguru guides his fingers back to your dripping entrance & then has satoru suck them clean. satoru moans loudly at the taste of you, clearly enjoying every moment of it.

suguru takes a rough grip of satoru's leaking cock & rubs it against your slick clit, eliciting moans from both of you. he guides satoru's hips & helps him ease into your tight heat. whimpering starts to escape satoru's lips as he struggles to process the overwhelming sensations. but he doesn't tell suguru to stop, so he continues on. you also struggle with the new feeling of being filled by something so large, gripping onto the pillows for dear life. suguru sets a slow pace, guiding satoru in & out of you with his hands. he pauses to let satoru feel you fully before resuming the steady rhythm. your walls clench around him tightly, causing him to cry out & seek comfort in the crook of your neck. despite the tears streaming down his face, it's an incredibly arousing sight for both you & suguru. he encourages satoru to make you feel good too, & he responds by licking your sensitive neck, & you don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it, it’s so instinctual for him. you don’t have much room in your head for big thoughts, but faintly you’re surprised that geto isn’t the one fucking you. & yet, he’s still in complete control of the situation. 

his hips start moving faster, creating loud wet sounds as your bodies collide with each thrust. suddenly, you let out a cry & tell suguru that you feel strange, like your stomach is aching. he reassures you & urges you to let go. 

geto's intense stare traced every curve & movement of your body. he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke. "you're doing so well," he praised, his voice husky, "such a good girl for us." his dirty words only added to the rush of arousal between your legs, causing you to become even more soaked with desire.

your body trembles as you approach the edge, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of satoru inside you & suguru's commanding presence. geto's words push you even closer, his praise igniting something primal within you.

"that's it," geto murmurs encouragingly. "let it all go. show us how good we make you feel.” & you’re sure you’ll never get used to gojo’s knot; it’s not just the overwhelming size, but that way it holds you in place, the loss of all friction, just being entirely full of him & there’s nothing to relieve the immensity of it. 

with a cry, you finally tumble over the precipice. waves of pleasure crash over you as your orgasm washes through your body. your walls clench rhythmically around satoru, pulling him deeper. he whimpers against your neck, his hips stuttering as he struggles to hold back his own release.

suguru's hand tangles in satoru's hair, tugging his head back. "not yet," he orders firmly. "make her come again first."

at first, you’d been worried you were driving a wedge between gojo & geto’s friendship, but you can put that worry to rest because clearly, you’re what’s holding them together. 

first of all: thank you anon!!! I love getting requests & I actually had something written like this for kinktober & ended up not posting it, so I'm glad I could use it! I hope you're having a great day too!!! <3

secondly: I don't think I have the whole hybrid/omegaverse thing on lock yet, it's just no my strong suit, so I'm sorry if this was not great or if parts of it didn't make sense

third: cuck!geto, sub!gojo.........that's all <3

did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[prisjean]

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ caleb x fem! reader

a/n: based on the new 5 star trailer! i know it’s not spicy and i know his memory might be a lil spicy but i think being vulnerable & hand holding is so adorable c: not proofread btw!

tw: quick fluff with cyborg caleb!

the laboratory was quiet, occasionally having the creak of the low hum of the engines. caleb sat shirtless on the edge of his cot, his head bowed, his hands resting on his knees. or rather, one hand. the other, a gleaming, mechanical mental that rested there like a ghost of something he’d lost.

you had noticed it before, the way he avoided using his right hand more than necessary and the stiff movements when he tried to grip something delicate. but up until now, you hadn’t pressed him on it.

but tonight was different.

“…you’re staring, pipsqueak” he said, his voice quiet but tinged with that familiar edge of amusement.

you took a step closer. “i’m not staring. i’m... observing.” you huffed.

he let out a soft, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “same thing.”

you frowned, crossing your arms. “why didn’t you tell me?”

he finally looked up, his beautiful purple pinkish eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you saw something raw in his expression, something he rarely let anyone see. “…what was I supposed to say?” he asked, his voice low. “hey, by the way, I’m not the man you remember. part of me isn’t even human anymore?…”

“don’t do that,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right in front of him. “don’t put words in my mouth.”

caleb sighed, running his left hand through his hair. “it’s not just that it’s gone,” he admitted, his tone softer now, more vulnerable. “…i..can’t feel anything. not from this.” he gestured to the robotic arm with a small, bitter laugh. “no warmth. no touch. nothing. just cold metal pretending to be part of me.”

your chest ached at the weight of his words, and before he could retreat further into himself, you knelt in front of him, placing your hands gently on his knees. “caleb,” you said softly, waiting until he met your gaze again.

“it doesn’t change anything for me,” you continued, your voice steady. “you’re still you. the man that’s always looking out for me and taking care of me. the man that would rather throw himself in harm’s way than let anything happen to me. that’s who you are, not…” you reached out, hesitating for a moment before resting your hand on the cold surface of his robotic forearm. “…this.”

he tensed at your touch, his jaw clenching as he looked down at where your hand rested. “but i can’t feel it,” he whispered, his voice strained. “…i-i can’t feel you..”

your heart twisted, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you slid your hand up to the connection point where metal met flesh, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. “then feel me here,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as though to dismiss your words, but his gaze remained fixed on yours, a mixture of exasperation and quiet longing etched into his features. slowly, you reached for his left hand, the one that was still flesh and blood.

his breath hitched as your fingers brushed against his, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when he didn’t pull away, you intertwined your fingers with his, feeling the roughness of his calloused palm against your skin. His grip tightened slightly, grounding himself in the sensation of your touch, something he could feel, something real.

“here,” you said softly, guiding his hand towards your face. you ran his fingers over your cheek, pressing into his palm, letting him feel the warmth of your skin. his thumb instinctively stroked along your cheekbone, the motion being slow and delicate, as though he were afraid to break the moment.

caleb sighed, the sound heavy and quiet, like he’d been holding his breath for far too long. “…you don’t know what this means to me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “to feel this. to feel you.”

your heart warmed at the vulnerability in his words, and you turned your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his palm. “you don’t have to carry this alone,” you whispered. “whatever’s happened, whatever’s still hurting, you don’t have to keep it from me.”

for a moment, he didn’t respond. his eyes searched yours, as though trying to find the truth in your words, then with a small nod, he let his forehead rest gently against yours, his hand still caressing your cheek. he was gonna cherish this moment forever.

“i’ll try,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “for you.”

you smiled softly, your free hand reaching up to cover his, your fingers curling around his knuckles. “thank you, that’s all I ask.”

the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came when words were no longer needed, when touch spoke louder than anything else. Caleb’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb still brushing admiringly against your skin, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.