#but the first chapter i wanted to leave as is

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒

summary: have you worked every shift possible for a chance of running into carlos and lando? yes. are you mad that you have a month of summer left and you still haven’t stumbled upon them? yes.

content warning: 18+. mdni. explicit sexual content. plot with porn. summer fling/vacation romance. fluff. light angst. light angst with a happy ending. banter. attempt at humor. explicit language. reader has a mom and dad. original side characters. dates. golf. miscommunication (done right). reader is bad at feelings. flirting. d/s undertones. light dom!carlos. switch!lando. switch!reader. brat!lando. hair-pulling. light pain kink. light praise kink. cunnilingus. vaginal fingering. threesome m/m/f. vaginal sex. protected sex. overstimulation. carlos sainz jr’s canonically big dick. petnames. orgasm delay? envy and jealousy.

pairing: poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student! fem!black!reader

word count: 18k words. (new record!)

from, serene: i am extremely proud of what i created. i hope it was worth waiting for, and i can't wait for the next episode !!! my next upload might be an alex albon smau series, for those that requested it. pls pls pls, send me asks and leave comments on this if you'd like! i'd love to hear your thoughts on sip of sunshine, and how it's building so far xxx thank you so much, my loves :) (50 more followers until 3k :o)

this has also been uploaded on my AO3 for anybody who finds it easier to read a fic of this length on there (looking out for those on mobile x)

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Studying for a doctorate does not directly correlate to a person’s brilliance. If you were smart, you wouldn’t have returned to the golf club for another summer with the sole hope of reuniting with the two stunningly fine men you shared a ten-minute conversation with. However, you chose to beat intelligence in a foot race, and here you are: driving the same beverage cart while sweating off your sunscreen for the fifth year in a row; furthermore, you have not crossed paths with Carlos and Lando once in the two months you’ve been working.

It’s difficult to believe that Lando had told the truth when he mentioned that they’ve been attending Club La Moraleja consistently for the past four years. You want to believe him, but the evidence against him is overwhelming. You’ve worked every possible shift this season, at every possible time, on every possible course, without a single spotting of the duo from the beginning of June. 

It’s August. If you allow yourself to think maniacally, you would infer that they’re avoiding you on purpose.

Previously, you were under the assumption that they were obviously flirting with you. The sexual innuendos, double-entendres, calling you a “sip of sunshine,” and the eighty euro tip Carlos left you (which had to be a mistake)—from which you deduced that they were making a move on you. You would even say that their instance in convincing you to return to the green was the smoking gun you needed to seal their fate in the case of you catching their interest. 

Nonetheless, they are nowhere to be found. 

You cope by entertaining the aspect of you suffering from heat stroke or heat exhaustion, and you created Carlos and Lando as a figment of your delusions during your compromised mental state. On the other hand, there’s also a chance that they took your joking threat—of never returning if you had to put up with their subpar pick-up lines—seriously. You didn’t consider that they would misunderstand your teasing banter but, you haven’t seen them a single time this summer.  

It’s unsettling. You’ve never been this disappointed about men not taking the clear hint. 

Obviously, you’d be relieved if any of the sleazy, rude, and archaic golfers stopped bothering you after their first attempt. But, Carlos and Lando? They’re the exact opposite of the men you described. They’re young, polite, funny, charming, and attractive. It’s not outlandish for you to say that there was some budding chemistry between you three.

It’s regrettably characteristic of you to develop crushes on men you haven’t shared more than one conversation with. Too bad you’re never going to see them again. And, screw them! Who do they think they are? It’s not like they’re anybody special—they probably delighted in filling your mind with false hope. 

The next time you see them, you’re running them over with the bev cart. All gas, no breaks.

The motor whirs loudly as you drive over a hill to the last hole of Course Four—and, you’ll be damned.

“Well, look at you! You stayed!”

You can’t tell if this is the universe blessing you or sending you a curse in disguise. 

Lando’s words ring in your ears as your brain fails to compute the sight of him and Carlos smiling at you from across the green, down in a bunker. 

Lando’s…matured beautifully, over the year you haven’t seen him. He was attractive before, but as you direct the cart closer, you can tell he’s grown into himself. There’s a broadness to his shoulders, a sharpness to his eyes, and a hollowness to his cheekbones that certainly makes it impossible for anybody to deny that he’s beautiful. 

Carlos is angeringly more handsome than he was before, somehow. You blame it on the backwards cap and his stupidly wide, warm, beautiful, brown eyes. You cut the engine off, scratching fiendishly at the back of your neck to dispel your thoughts about his nose and lips, how you would pay to see his brown eyes darkened between your thighs.

“Obviously,” you state dryly, roughly tucking the curls that slipped from your ponytail behind your ear, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Their grins falter at your biting tone and they glance at each other in surprise at your irritated response. They climb out of the bunker and walk to meet you at the side of the cart. You’ve turned your back to them, hearing their footsteps approach but you continue to mindlessly organize any cups that shifted out of place as you drove.

“It was just an observation,” the Brit continues, you can hear him still smiling around his words, “A conversation starter, I guess.”

You put on an impassive expression before turning around and staring at the two with your arms crossed, “Mm. Who’s the one who’s bad enough at golf to land in the bunker? Wait—don’t tell me! You’re both probably stuck in the sand trap.” 

Lando’s mouth audibly drops open with an insulted gasp and Carlos’s brow furrows in confusion.

You wave a dismissive hand through the air before they can reply, “What do you want to drink?”

“Uh…What?” Carlos fumbles, lost at your deviation.

“What, ‘what?’” You snap, annoyed at his feigned innocence, like he’s unaware that they lead you on for the entirety of a summer that they just appeared in, “What do you want to drink? As in a refreshment? ¿Una bebida? I know you’re familiar with ordering from the cart as I served you last year—and since you both have been coming here for five years!” [A drink?]

The two stare at you in blatant terror as your voice echoes in the air. Their stunned silence at your “unfounded” anger only serves to exasperate you further.

“Make it quick,” your voice trembles infuriatingly, “What would you like to drink?”

“Did we do something wrong? If we upset you, we have no idea what we did,” Carlos rambles pleadingly. You almost buy it.

“Yeah, what’s with the attitude?” Lando gracefully ruins their chances of being acquitted, “We haven’t seen you in nearly a year; What could we have done wrong?”

“Attitude—are you serious!?” You scoff, insulted at the very idea, before continuing mockingly “Whatever—it’s a beer and a lime mocktail, right? Or, would you prefer a sip of sunshine?”

The men don’t have a chance to edit their orders as you sharply throw open the beer cooler, all three of you flinching as the lid slams into the cart and the bottles and cans clamoring together worryingly. You don’t let the fear of damaged property interrupt your fury as you brandish the beer towards Carlos, snatching your hand away as soon as his closes around the neck of the bottle. 

He murmurs his thanks in his native tongue but the curl of his accent—no matter how alluring it sounds—incenses you further, and you huffily turn your back towards them as you craft Lando’s drink.

The thought of them being truthful about their confusion about your annoyance flares in your mind as you shovel ice into the plastic cup. It’s possible that there has been some miscommunication…but, that would be embarrassing for you to admit. You’ve already acted incredibly rude and like a total brat to them—to customers, at that! Ohmygod, you’ve let your personal emotions affect your work; they could report you to your manager and have you fired. 

Your breath stutters as your overcome with a chill that feels like you’ve dumped ice down your own shirt. The drink is quickly assembled, and you find yourself wishing for a painless death as you fasten an orange slice as garnish on the rim of the cup instead of a lime. A slice of sunshine, if you will.

Meekly, this time around, you offer the cup to Lando. He looks increasingly disturbed at the sudden switch of your demeanor. You watch the Brit glance at his companion, his look clearly communicating that he’s checking if Carlos agrees that you’ve lost your mind, most likely.

The Spaniard must have agreed because Lando giggles nervously, the sound glaringly revealing his discomfort, “You didn’t poison my drink, did you?”

Your brain starts to self-destruct in embarrassment. Carlos hides his face in his free hand, but the sound of pain that escapes him at the ill-timed joke is clear. To be fair, Lando looked like he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, but the damage was done. 

Your cheeks burn furiously, you’re simultaneously angry and disappointed in yourself. How could you allow yourself to become overrun by your emotions on the clock? It’s unprofessional and uncharacteristic of you. 

You excuse yourself shakily, “I-I am so sorry. Perdóname. I was rude to you both for no reason. I apologize sincerely for my behavior. Do not worry about paying, your drinks are on me. I hope you both enjoy yourself on the green—Buenas tardes.” [Forgive me; Good afternoon.]

Carlos and Lando are silent as you scamper into the driver’s seat, tail figuratively tucked between your legs. The ride back to the clubhouse is silent as you berate yourself for your stupidity. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to forget the way you ruined your chances with them. You already know your subconscious will play this on repeat every time you try to sleep. The cart beeps as you reverse into its assigned spot. Isabel, one of the fellow cart girls—and your best friend—waves at you with a smile as she walks over towards you. She must be the next on shift.

“You look like you’ve just been fired,” Isa’s smile has transformed into a look of concern, “¿Estás bien?” [Are you okay?]

Grabbing your belongings, you slide out of the driver's seat with a haunted look in your eyes. “You remember the two guys I told you about? From last summer? I think I just scared them away.”

“No,” Isa exhales in denial, pulling you into a hug, “There’s no way. What happened?”

“I yelled at them and insulted them for being bad at golf,” you mumble, yelping sharply as she  communicates her displeasure by slapping at your arm, “I was mad at them, okay! They were pretending to be innocent, like they had no clue they avoided me for the entire summer! They’re going to complain to the Club and get me fired because I was unprofessional and rude!”

“Ay! You don’t know that! You still served them, and apologized right?” Isa brightens further when you mention you served them for free, she ignores your pout as you rub your hand against the stinging skin of your bicep, “Then, it’s probably nothing. If they do complain, this is your first complaint ever. You won’t get fired—you will just have to wash the carts for the rest of the summer.”

You fall to your knees on the hot concrete in despair and Isa snorts at your dramatics, bending to pluck the cart keys from your pocket. 

“I’m just going to quit, inmediamente!” [Immediately!]

“If you quit, I quit,” Isa reminds you, “And, out of the two of us, I need this job. I’m broke. So, you can’t quit, unless you want me to suffer.”

“I would take care of you,” you beg, “I have my office job back in the States. You could marry me and get a green card! Let me quit!”

Isa cackles at the concept, “You hate your office job. Anyway, quitting won’t save you from your colleagues here. Don’t forget we’re all going out tomorrow night! You can’t escape this time, you promised me.”

You groan in indignation, “Is it a crime to not like clubbing every night?”

“¡Sí, lo es!,” She frowns, “It’s clubbing every night in Madrid! And, I need moral support if I have to watch Lucas flirt with Sofia. I don’t know what he sees in her.” [Yes, it is!]

Grumbling fitfully, you wish her a good shift before dragging yourself into the Clubhouse. You’re still quitting. There’s not a chance in hell that you’re coming back next summer—there is nothing worth staying for anymore. Sorry, Isa.

Out of all the shifts you’ve worked, the 8 A.M. to 3 P.M. is your least favorite. You blink blearily as you hang up your belongings in the same locker you chose four years ago, fighting the urge to rub at your eyes, with the thought of not smearing your mascara. Pinning your nametag on your pressed shirt is muscle memory, and you slide on a club-branded visor to protect your face because the UV index is concerningly high today. 

You pause to stare at the photos pinned to the inside of your locker door—they date from your very first summer till now, with familiar faces and some you haven’t seen in a while. It’s heartwarming. You haven’t posted a single one of these photos in here; your friends do it on their own (the password to your locker is apparently community knowledge—you could change it, but then you’d stop collecting them), taping Polaroids from moments on the course to shenanigans off the course to nights out in the city, with captions and notes written on the back. 

The sense of belonging and community you found here is why it was so difficult to come to a decision about leaving this place and its people behind. Your lips tilt up at a photo of you and the cart team covering your boss’s car in sticky notes two summers ago—he made you all collect the stray golf balls from the putting green that night in retaliation. And, he laughed deeply as the sprinklers drenched all of you, which is another few snapshots commemorated in your locker. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to leave.

“Mami,” Lilia, the receptionist on duty this morning, calls you from the locker room door, “The two really hot Formula One drivers are asking for you?”

You shoot a look of confusion her way, “huh—why me? I don’t know them?”

“Umm, yes you do?” Lilia mirrors your bafflement, “They say you’ve served them before. And that they want to apologize for something?”

“¿Qué?”

“I don’t know! I’m just repeating what they told me—” The brunette woman cuts herself short, and her eyes narrow after a moment, “Hey, if they’re bothering you, I’ll get them banned. I didn’t tell them that you were here, I just said I’d check to see if you had come in. Did they bother you? Don’t lie to me! I’ll call security and get them gone!”

“What, no! I don’t know them, or even know what Formula One is! I haven’t had a bad interaction or served any drivers—oh.” Your stomach sinks as your eyes shut woefully, “I fucked up.”

Lilia threatens to get them banned again when she sees the bronze skin of your face lose its luster. You tell her to let them know you’ll be out in a moment and to not threaten them. You step to the full-length mirror to check your appearance and adjust your uniform. Centering yourself with a few deep breaths, you turn the door handle and make your way out to the reception desk.

The squeaking of your sneakers on the tile floor only adds to your anticipation. A small part of you hopes that Carlos and Lando aren’t the Formula One drivers asking for you, and that this is all some misunderstanding. You feel your soul die inside of you as your eyes meet theirs. Their expressions look determined and apologetic, and your palms feel sweaty as you come to terms with them preparing to file a formal complaint. 

Lilia clears her throat abruptly from where she’s pretending to organize membership files. You see a blush bloom on Carlos and Lando’s cheeks as they realize that they’ve been staring at you without saying anything for longer than what’s politely appropriate, but you beat them to the chase.

“Buenos días. U-umm,” you anxiously scratch at the nape of your neck, “…Is this about yesterday? Or the tip you left last summer? It was too generous to not be an accident. It’s past our refund period, but I can reach out to the manager on duty to see if we can work something out.” [Good morning.]

“I gave you eighty euros on purpose,” Carlos states without doubt, and you feel Lilia’s stare piercing your side profile.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to speak to you about yesterday—”

You cut in, “Yesterday was my fault! I think I misunderstood you both and I overreacted. It was nothing personal—”

Lando clasps his hands together, interrupting you with an imploring tone, “It was personal, though. Which is fine, I think we deserved it. Especially if there was a misunderstanding on our part. We would’ve communicated with you clearer if we were sure that you were on the same page as us. We would appreciate it if you would allow us to make it up to you.”

Lilia kicks your ankle underneath the desk, doing enough freaking out for the both of you as you struggle to keep your face calm.

“I feel like I’m still the one at fault for the miscommunication. But—how were you planning to…smooth things over, I guess?” You ask.

“Allow us to take you to dinner tonight, and explain,” Carlos finishes, weaponizing those eyes of his, helped by Lando softening his own at you desperately for a chance.

“Oh—um, I would love to, really, but I already have plans tonight—,” You’re getting tired of being interrupted, but Lilia is quick to clear your schedule.

“No!” The raven-haired woman jumps up from her seat, slapping her hand on the counter forcefully, causing the three of you to jump. “She’s free tonight!” She smiles scaringly wide at Carlos and Lando.

Lilia turns to you and her smile and voice quiets to something genuine, “I will explain to the others about why you could not make it. Isa will understand as long as you remember to keep us both updated, yes?”

You roll your eyes, resigned , “Yes.”

You’re surprised at the tentative happiness growing in the boys’ appearances, “I guess I can do dinner tonight. What’s the plan?”

Phone numbers are exchanged and they agree to pick you up from your house at seven. They linger through their goodbyes, clearly not wanting to end the conversation. It’s flattering that they're willingly exposing their obsession with you so soon. You shoo them away with the reminder of seeing each other tonight and the fact that you are, in fact, on the clock. Lilia slaps you on the arm repeatedly as you watch them exit through the front doors with a dreamy sigh.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Lilia lets out a scream of excitement and pulls you into a hug, the two of you jumping up and down overwhelmed with joy. You’re caught by your boss Marco, who takes one glance before he turns around to head back into his office, forcing the two of you into hysterical giggles. 

You pull back from her, and you can’t quiet the large grin dancing on your lips, “I have no idea what to wear!”

Carlos texted you twenty minutes ago alerting you that they’re on the way to pick you up. Lando added that they can’t wait to see you a minute later. You were ready thirty minutes before they started heading your way. Ten minutes ago you decided to change your entire outfit. You settled on a linen cropped tank and matching maxi skirt with a pair of sandals. You fiddle with your accessories endlessly, and you do the same with a few stray curls that refuse to sit where you want them.

Grabbing your purse and phone, you rush out of your room and down the stairs to find your parents in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to their own dinner.

“¡Mija—qué bonita!” your mom gasps, wiping her hands on a towel before she pulls you closer to look at you, “Where have you been hiding this outfit?” [My daughter, how beautiful she is!]

“Má, I’ve had it for a while,” you subject yourself to her cooing and prodding as she spins you around, looking at your dad for help, who only offers you a shrug, “—I just have not had anywhere to wear it.”

“Hm? Then, what’s so special about tonight? I thought you were clubbing with your friends, no?” You avoid meeting her prying eyes, pretending to find interest in what’s simmering on the stove.

“Eh, why is there a Ferrari outside of my house?” your dad asks, drawing your attention to the front window. The sleek black convertible is parked by the curb, and your phone buzzes in your hands. Lando has informed you of their arrival, and you quickly tell them you’ll be right out to avoid them coming to the door. You don’t know if they’re “meet the parents” caliber yet, Ferrari or not.

“Don’t worry about it, Papà. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back tonight,” you press kisses to both of your parents’ cheeks, “Save some food for me to take to work tomorrow, please?”

Your mom pinches your ear, “Ay! You are going on a date? Finally! Is he handsome on top of being rich? A Ferrari is okay as long as he is as beautiful as the car, you know?”

Your dad makes a noise of complaint as he follows you both towards the door, “A Ferrari is more than okay as long as he respects you and treats you well. And, if he buys me a Ferrari too—ask him for me.” 

You fuss at them, flustered but smug as you ignore your dad’s request, and you turn to smirk at your mom, “Papà, I plan to find outfit they treat me well tonight. Mamá. They’re both gorgeous.”

Your dad blinks in confusion as your mom crows in delight, “¡Mija! I knew I raised you properly! ¡Vas, vas! Have fun and you have to tell me everything when you get back, yes?” [My girl!; Go, go!]

“Sí, Mamá. ¡Muchos besos, te quiero!” You slip out of the door, the sound of your mother explaining that you’ve garnered the interest of two men to your father fading behind you as you walk to the car. [Yes, mom. Kisses, I love you!]

Carlos and Lando are waiting for you on the curb, the engine purring lowly behind them. Your gait slows as you near, and the Spaniard reaches out to press his lips to the back of your hand fleetingly. 

They’ve dressed well; Lando in a light gray, short-sleeved, collared, v-neck that rests untucked over white chinos and a pair of gray sneakers to match. He’s sprinkled with bracelets, a few of them decorate his toned forearms on both wrists, and there’s a singular silver chain peeking from the cut of his shirt. Carlos is dressed similarly with the white chinos, yet he’s chosen a light blue button-up with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of dress shoes. His outfit is complimented by a dazzling watch. 

You murmur a greeting to both men, unable to hold eye contact with either of them for long. It’s one thing to fantasize that you have a chance with men clearly out of your league, and it’s another thing to have to muster up the confidence to speak to them outside of your uniform. 

Lando impatiently shifts on his feet as the older man keeps hold of your hand for longer than necessary. When you’re released, Lando takes it a step further and pulls you into a hug, his body heated and solid against yours. A shiver runs down your spine when his hand rests on the exposed skin of the small of your back. You hum, pleased as you inhale the velvety scent of his cologne, missing the closeness as he pulls away from you a beat later.

You step back, your heart thudding as you quip, “I didn’t know we were on hugging terms already.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando flushes easily, and Carlos chuckles, “I should’ve asked if it was okay.”

“I liked it,” you smile at him, pretending as if your heart isn’t pounding forcefully from the brief embrace, “I-I mean, it was fine, don’t worry.”

The Brit hums at your response, his eyes drifting along your form before meeting yours again with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. His blush recedes as yours strengthens, now apparent on your darker skin. 

“Lovely house,” he withdraws, and you’re thankful he avoided commenting on the evident flush he invoked with nothing more than a hug and a pass of his eyes.

“Thank you, my parents bought it and moved here after I started university,” you explain needlessly, “They’re pretty great. They were the ones who made me apply for the position at La Moraleja. So, really, it’s them you have to credit with us meeting, I suppose.”

“We also have to thank them for having a beautiful daughter,” Carlos alleges smoothly.

You fluster, “I-I’ll pass the message along. Both of you are very handsome, but I think you guys hear that often.”.

“Don’t worry. It sounds sweeter coming from you,” Lando edits his point with an impish grin, “—and from Carlos too, sometimes.”

“Don’t be a brat, Lando,” the Spaniard’s voice is light as he entertains the younger, “Unfortunately, I think we will be late if we continue to stand here and flirt in the street,” Carlos says, and his eyes shift to look past you and at your house, “—And, I think your dad might come outside and kill us. Which would not be very pleasant, in my opinion.”

You spin around, chagrined at the sight of your dad watching the three of you with a harsh stare. 

“Yes! Let’s get going, I would hate to be late. Ignore him, please.” Lando waves at your dad anyways, endearing himself to you further, “And, you won’t have to worry about being murdered as long as you get him a Ferrari.”

The two men startle into laughter at that, and you hold your hands up candidly, “What? His words, not mine!”

You didn’t account for the oddness of one of you sitting in the backseat, but Lando assigns himself to the back, claiming that you have “passenger princess” rights. 

The wind ruffles through your curls aimlessly as Carlos drives towards your destination. The ride is filled with endless chatter and flirting. A smile is constantly on your face as the three of you speak through topics easily. There’s not a single time you feel like an outsider, even though it’s clear how familiar they are with each other. 

The restaurant you find yourself in isn’t screaming its extravagance at you, which is surprising. While it’s dimly lit, and you can hear live music thrumming through the air from somewhere deeper inside over the lively chatter—it feels like a classic restaurant, intimate and comfortable. Like somewhere you could go for a nice dinner often.

The hostess straightens upwards with recognition when she spots Carlos and she greets the three of you good naturedly before disappearing to check if your table is ready. 

The Spaniard notices the surprise on your face, “My family and I have dined here since I was young. You have never come here before? ”

You shake your head, “I’m a little jealous, if I’m being honest,” Carlos tilts his head, listening, “I’m mad I didn’t discover this place sooner. The atmosphere is amazing!”

The hostess returns, gesturing for you all to follow after her and Lando grasps your hand to catch your attention as you walk, “If you think the vibe is amazing, just wait until you try the food.”

The table is not in direct sight of anyone besides the kitchen, clearly a spot meant for privacy. Your hidden behind a half wall and a screen overgrown with plants, and the volume of the restaurant seems quieter through the barrier. You lean back in your chair as the three of you wrap up the discussion about yesterday’s conflict.

“I feel incredibly stupid now,” you chuckle, embarrassed. The brown skin of your face burns hot. You focus on the empty wine glass in front of you, avoiding their eyes plainly.

“No,” Carlos’s voice is stern, the serious tone shocking you into looking at him, “Do not be rude to yourself—you are not stupid.”

You stare, dumbfounded, reeling as you process the manner in which he shut down your negative self-talk. If his words totally dissolved your mortification over your immature reaction to seeing them again, you might have thought harder about how that was kind of hot of him to do.

“Aren’t you studying for a PhD?” Lando asks rhetorically, “I think that literally means you’re not stupid.”

You scoff lightly—feeling humored instead of humiliated—at how easily he swept away the tension with a light-hearted comment. The Brit doesn’t know how many people have enlightened you with the knowledge that common sense is, unfortunately, uncommon in post-grad. But, you’ll let his words wash away your self-deprecation lest this turns into an unsolicited therapy session instead of a date an apology dinner.

“Fine. I’m not stupid—but, you can’t deny that it wasn’t a little dumb of me to assume that you guys had lied to me about visiting the golf club every year. And, it was a little more dumb of me to make my decision about working here for another season just because there was a chance that I could see you guys—never mind.” Your teeth clack together forcefully as you slam your mouth shut.

The duo straighten up at the sudden end to your sentence, brains quickly filling in the blanks for them. Lando’s poorly attempting to hide his satisfied smile behind his hand and Carlos’s eyes are bright with understanding. You’ve learned your lesson about making hasty assumptions but you don’t think it’s foolish to deduce this means that they’re actually interested in you too, this time around.

“Ah. Well, we should not have assumed that you knew we were Formula One drivers, which maybe was obvious from how you spoke to us,” Carlos shrugs his shoulders, leveling the blame, “And, I think it’s sweet that you were hoping to run into us again.”

“Mmm,” you hum nervously, “I think it’s delusional.”

One of their shoes knocks against yours underneath the table and you jump in surprise. Carlos’s chest shakes with a silent laugh and his eyebrow raises at you pressingly.

“We should’ve asked for your number last summer,” Lando adds nonchalantly. 

You rattle at his boldness, and you’re given a moment to ponder that as the waiter stops to pour you and Carlos a glass of white wine (Lando refused). You take a brief sip, humming pleasantly at the light and easy flavor, the live music and easy conversation floating through the air providing you a reprieve from your immersion in the two men. 

Your attention is recaptured as you watch Carlos offer Lando a chance to taste from his glass. 

Earlier, the Brit had told you he dislikes the taste of most alcohols when the waiter stepped away to grab the bottle Carlos requested. Yet, Lando accepts, not without making his distaste apparent with an adorable frown. He takes the tiniest sip possible with a look of apprehension and recoils from the glass as he swallows, his nose scrunching in disgust as he shakes his head to further sell his distate. 

Carlos rolls his eyes and laughs, revealing to you how used he is to Lando’s dramatics. He raises a hand to rub at the short hair on the nape of the younger’s neck in comfort.

The look on your face must be cloyingly sweet if the light dust of pink that rises to the Brit’s cheeks when he realizes you’ve watched the entire interaction, is meaningful. Carlos’s eyes become intense when he spots how Lando curls into himself shyly under your eyes. The Spaniard whispers, his volume low enough for only Lando to hear and you wish you knew exactly what was said, because it deepens the tint of his cheeks to a furious red. 

You figure you’ll save him from his torment by bringing up the important stuff.

“So, you only have a month of summer vacation,” you start, fingers fiddling with the edge of a fan-folded napkin, “Which is in August. That’s…so short. My fall semester starts the first week of September.”

Silence falls as they digest the underlying meaning of your sentence. Is it in everyone’s best interest to start something that has to end so soon? Is it in your best interest to risk catching feelings for two athletes (celebrity-athletes, at that) during the last month of your break? 

“A month is a long time,” the younger man starts, his blue-green eyes intent, “We’ll just have to make the most out of it, right? I want to get to know you more, and I have a feeling that the three of us will have a fun time together—If you want to give it a try.”

“A ‘fun time’? Like—like a fling?” Your expression remains indifferent as you ask. You need them to clarify what they want out of this without revealing your emotions. It’s only proper for you to prevent any future miscommunication or misunderstanding about this; you learned from your earlier mistake.

Lando’s earnest gaze has lost some of its shine, and Carlos’s eyes now seem guarded.

“Calling it a fling is harsh,” the Spaniard responds, “It’s more of a summer romance, no?”

Your laugh isn’t genuine, but they don’t know you well enough to discern that, “Alright, I’ll give our ‘summer romance’ a chance. Using a synonym doesn’t change the definition, you know?” 

Lando cocks his head at you, staring deeply. It feels like he’s trying to puzzle you out, and you stare back in feigned confusion.

“It’s nothing,” He relaxes, leaning back in his chair and moving Carlos’s glass out of the way as he sees the waiter nearing the table with your appetizers, “I just find it odd that you called yourself stupid earlier.” You don’t know what to make of that, but it’s forgotten as the starters are devoured and the conversation shifts into them getting to know you and vice versa.

The older man with them at the golf course last year was Carlos’s father, who is a two-time Rally World Champion. You’re surprised to learn that they’ve only been dating for around a year. Lando says he developed a crush on Carlos when they were teammates at Mclaren, but he was afraid of ruining their relationship and potentially, his career, if he confessed–so he kept quiet. Carlos didn’t realize he was romantically interested in Lando until he signed his contract with Ferrari. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupt, “If you guys have only been together for a year, did you get together before or after you saw me at the golf course for the first time?”

“A year and three months,” the Spaniard corrects with a serene smile, “Our anniversary was in May.”

The Brit continues for him, “—Which means we started dating about three months before we saw you. Give or take a few weeks.”

You gave a low whistle of surprise—three months into their relationship and they were on the same page about chasing after you. Since then, they had several serious conversations about adding a third to their relationship but hadn’t found or looked for anybody they’d consider to try with. Besides you.

Obviously, they like playing golf; Lando is abysmal, and Carlos is not bad at it. Carlos has two sisters, Lando has a brother and two sisters. Both of them are middle children. Lando is a picky eater, and hates fish and seafood. Carlos will eat anything Lando doesn’t. Lando founded a company with his best friend. Carlos is a Real Madrid fanatic. Lando occasionally streams on Twitch. Carlos enjoys surfing and cycling.

“I’m sorry for saying that you guys sucked at golf yesterday,” you apologize sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” the Brit says, unperturbed, “I do suck at golf. I just wasn’t expecting to hear it come from you.”

“I suck less at golf,” the older man states, “But, if I was good, I would not have been in the sand pit in the first place, no?”

They visit Spain often because family is important to Carlos. Lando’s loved like another son by Carlos’s family and Carlos is loved the same by Lando’s family. Lando is needy. Carlos likes being needed. Carlos is mildly possessive. Lando is too self-critical. Carlos makes the best pancakes. Lando wants to build a beautiful vintage car collection.

They want to see you again. You enjoyed dinner more than you thought was possible. 

They defrosted your nerves and allowed your personality to shine through. It helps that they were actively listening as you complained and gushed over your studies, told anecdotes of the shenanigans you and the others got up to on the golf course, and spoke about your future outlooks. They didn’t mind your lack of knowledge about Formula One and explained the sport in detail to you. They were determined to figure out what made you mad, what made you happy, what made you laugh, what made you shy—and, what made you go pink.

It didn’t take them long to discern that staring at your lips is the trick. When they made that discovery, they weaponized it the entire night. While one of them played with the rings on your fingers or tucked a curl behind your ear, the other managed to fluster you by letting their eyes wander for a few seconds before meeting yours again with increasing intensity. You experienced heart failure several times, and had to ask them to repeat themselves more frequently thanks to their psychological warfare.

Your heart feels like it may cease to function again as they walk you to your doorstep. The lights inside the house are off, you returned later than you thought you would. Your parents left the porch light on for you and it casts an amber warmth. Carlos and Lando don’t invite themselves into your space as you dig your house keys out of your purse, ever the polite men. The sound of your keys jingling harmonizes with your triumphant hum as you pull them out. 

You face the boys, placing your hand on the doorknob behind you, waiting for them to speak. 

“Are we forgiven for unintentionally leading you to believe that we led you on and wasted your time?” Lando blurts out.

You knock your head back against the doorframe, abashed, shutting your eyes to dispel the HD playback your brain gifts you with. “If you both agree to never bring it up again, I’ll forgive you.”

“I suddenly do not know what we’re talking about,” Carlos nods seriously, and Lando echoes the sentiment.

You release the doorknob and take the few steps towards them. As you expected, their eyes simultaneously drift to stare at your mouth. You lightly place a hand on Carlos’s shoulder before leaning up and brushing your lips across his cheek in the lightest ghost of a kiss, before moving to Lando and doing the same.

You carefully backpedal to the door turning to insert your key into the lock, before you look back at them. Your heart flutters at the sight of Carlos, who’s frozen, standing all wide-eyed and pressing his fingers to his cheek like he’s unsure if he imagined the kiss. Lando however, looks hungry. His eyes are the darkest you’ve seen tonight, and they’re locked on how you teasingly flick your tongue across your bottom lip.

“While we may only have a month to spend together—it doesn’t mean I’m easy. I, at least!—need a second date before I let you do anything more than stare at my lips and hold my hand. It might take three dates before I even let you kiss my cheek,” you tease with a joking shrug of your shoulders.

“It’s a good thing that you have my phone number,” the lock clicks open, and you push the door open, “If you don’t use it to set up another date, I think I’ll have no choice but to never forgive you guys.”

“We’ll be using it,” Carlos asserts, recovered from the daze you left him in.

“Hm, good. Text me when you get home.” You step in your entryway, waving your fingers at the two of them leisurely, “Buenas noches.” [Goodnight.]

They mimic your goodbye and you shut the door, clicking the lock. You nosily peek through the peephole to spy on their reactions. Carlos tugs Lando into a bear hug, their wide smiles hidden as they press into each other and the sharpest pitch squeal you’ve heard from Lando travels through the front door. You cover your own giggle with a hand as you watch the two of them kiss and almost skip down your driveway back to the car. You press your back to the door with a deep sigh, a lovestruck smile painting your face while you lay limp to let your heartbeat slow to a normal speed.

The hallway light flicks on and you shriek as your mom stares at you with a deranged smile on her lips, “Tell me everything!”

“Mamá! What are you doing up? It’s late!” You exclaim, straightening upwards with your hands on your hips, failing at distracting her from how you were weak in the knees a couple of seconds ago. “It’s okay, mija! I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee for us and you can tell me all about your date!” She rushes forward, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Ironically, the second date ends up being late night mini golf. Even better, you destroy them at it. It wasn’t an easy feat, they made plenty of attempts to sabotage and distract you; whether it was yelling, spooking, poking, or prodding at you as you readied your putt, but it wasn’t enough to give them a chance of catching up. 

You figure more of your mistakes were from being unable to stop laughing as the two performed atrociously. Carlos ended up polluting every water feature with golf balls and Lando couldn’t manage to finish a single hole in under 8 strokes—the highest par was 6. You patted Lando on the back consolingly, telling him to find comfort in the fact that they’re equally terrible at putt-putt golf.

The two seemed surprised at your finesse with a club, almost like they’d forgotten you work on a golf course. You may not be a caddy, but you’ve had plenty of time to work on perfecting your technique. You did well enough to place sixth on the leaderboard, the employees said that Carlos’ score might be the worst they’ve ever seen.

With their egos severely bruised, you convinced them to soothe the loss over with ice cream at a neighboring parlor. Lando was satisfied with plain vanilla and Carlos with a scoop of dulce de leche. You elected for cookies and cream, but found yourself being fed their flavors as well. 

The sugary treats were delicious. Watching them stare at your lips pursed around a spoonful of ice cream was far more delectable. Lando broke the fourth time you managed to dot a bit of vanilla above your upper lip. He choked on a whine before leaning into your space. He hesitated a hair’s width away from your lips, his shuddering exhales mixing with yours, his eyes searching for approval. Your eyes fluttered shut and Lando closed the gap. 

His lips were soft and chilled, a result of the ice cream. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you leaned into the kiss, the taste of vanilla lingering in the embrace. His hand raised to cradle your cheek as your lips brushed together languidly, the sound of your heart racing within your chest fading out as you become absorbed by the kiss. 

Lando pulls away, falling back into his seat with his chest heaving. You stare after him with wide eyes, jolting out of it when you notice you’ve dropped your spoon into your lap, Carlos’s dulce de leche ice cream spilling onto your thigh. 

“Do I get to lick this off your thigh since Lando got to kiss it off your lips?” Carlos asks, his tone half genuine, half facetious.

You kick at his ankle underneath the booth and he throws his hands up placatingly. 

“Wait–,” you anxiously flit your eyes around the parlor, “—you shouldn’t have kissed me here Lando. Out in public? Aren’t people going to recognize—”

“We’ve been the only people in here for the past thirty minutes or so,” Lando interrupts, gathering the near-empty dishes and balled-up napkins, “They’ve also been closed for twenty minutes. When you went to the bathroom when we came in, Carlos and I signed something for the owner who was more than happy to keep things quiet for his second favorite Spanish Formula One driver.”

“Second favorite?” Carlos furrows his eyebrows at his boyfriend, his umber eyes adorably confused.

“Mate,” the Brit scoffs, “I might be in love with you ‘n all but we're not going to act like Fernando isn’t the best thing that came out of Spain, besides churros.”

The unfavored Spaniard holds his hand to his chest in betrayal before his eyes narrow and he moves to assault Lando with a pinch to his chest. While you’d love to continue watching this disguised act of foreplay, you would rather be a participant than a voyeur.

“¡Cabrónes!” The two freeze, heads snapping to look at you as your voice cuts through the catfight.

“I think the owner would be even happier if you licked the ice cream off my thigh outside of his parlor so he could finally lock up, sí?”

How Lando kisses with a desperate hunger, Carlos kisses with a ravaging heat. Like he wants to roast your nerve endings with every brush of his lips against yours.

The fiery press of his mouth stokes the arousal building in your navel. His hand tangles in your hair as he directs the tilt of your head. A stuttered whimper slips from your mouth into his as your tongues glide together, a buzzing sensation tingling down your spine as his other hand squeezes your waist tightly.

He walks you backward towards the bed, his lips devouring yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, attempting to pull your bodies even closer than they are. You stumble, gasping when his hand palms your ass and it’s the first time your lips have separated since Carlos claimed them in the hallway.  He tumbles into you as his feet stumble around yours, the darkness of the bedroom not bettering the situation. He nearly sends you both to the floor instead of the plush mattress if not for Lando catching your body and a hand firmly pressed to Carlos’s chest to hold him upright, expletives falling from your mouths until balance is restored.

You rest your forehead on the older man’s collarbone as you abruptly giggle at being so kiss drunk you forgot how to backpedal. The two drivers have no choice but to laugh at the sound of your amusement, Lando cackling and Carlos’s chest shaking with his laughter. 

“I’m not against fucking on the floor,” Lando voices, the sound of his grin loud enough for you to visualize, “But—can we at least have our first time with you on this extremely comfortable bed?”

“First time?” You raise a brow jokingly, nonchalantly pulling your shirt over your head and letting it fall to the floor, “That implies you’re thinking there’s gonna be a second.”

The Spaniard steps away to click the nightstand lamp on, the room partially bathed in warm yellow light. Your eyes adjust seamlessly to the low lighting, allowing you to revel in the sight of him appreciating your exposed skin, even when covered with a plain black bra—you’ve never been more thankful to be wearing a matching pair of panties.

The younger man unclasps the latch of the garment, dragging the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips, and the bra lands atop your shirt. You feel his breath cascade heatedly along your left shoulder before his lips purse delicately against the brown skin. 

He nips closer to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I know we’ll be having you for more than a third time.”

Surely feeling left out, Carlos unzips your skirt, tugging it down your hips and offering a hand for you to hold as you step free of it, “Many more times. But for tonight,” the older man pauses, toying with the band of your panties, looking at you with a smirk, “We must settle on saving the floor for round two. After we have caused you to ruin the sheets.”

Internally, you scream in elation. Two men eager to fuck you stupid, for the rest of your summer—you pray they’re not bluffing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had sex good enough for a repeat performance. Externally, you shimmy out of your panties and tug at the hem of Carlos’ button-up once you’re bare. 

“If you want me to ruin your sheets, I’m pretty sure that requires you both to be less clothed.”

Lando’s free of everything but his briefs in a handful of seconds while Carlos struggles to unbutton his shirt. The younger pulls you into bed, guiding you to lay on your back as he holds himself over you, dipping to kiss you messily, unafraid to let his moans knit with yours. By the time the older man has lost his clothes and joined the two of you on the bed, the Brit’s focus has traveled down the length of your neck to your chest. Reddened marks bloom on your bronzed skin, mottled across your decolletage in a pattern only known as desire. 

He laves his tongue against a pebbled nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive bud, delighting in the way your body arches upwards into his mouth. Your hand pulls tightly at brunette curls, his resulting whimper at the burn of his scalp muffled around your breast, his eyes screwing shut. You loosen your grasp, unable to determine if that was a positive reaction and you’re pleased to see his eyes fly open, his gaze demanding more. His large hand envelopes your wrist, attempting to have you further mess up his hair, but the motion is halted when Carlos cocks Lando’s head backward with an unrelenting fist. 

The younger man shudders, his eyes rolling at the rough treatment. He rises to lessen the pressure of his boyfriend’s grasp, settling into a kneel between your legs with Carlos pressed to his back. The burn of his scalp subsides when the hold weakens, the tension leaving the younger man in a breath and his head droops back on a broad shoulder.

The Spaniard captivates your attention as he presses a kiss to Lando’s jaw, moving the same hand that was in his boyfriend’s hair to splay against his abdomen, a finger dipping to poke at his bellybutton, causing Lando to jolt with a whine. Carlos coos, calming the man with a rub of hand along his torso.  

“Don’t let him fool you. He likes a bit of pain,” Carlos tweaks Lando’s nipple demonstratively, letting the sight of the younger man’s arousal jumping underneath his briefs accompanied by a strangled moan speak for itself. “He’s a brat, even if he likes to pretend otherwise. A little sting is enough to remind him how to act…most times. Right, Landito?”

The man moves to hide his face in Carlos’s neck as if it’ll hide the sight of him nodding in confirmation. It doesn’t help that the meek “yes” he breathes into the muscle isn’t muffled at all.

“And because he wants to be good,” Carlos continues, pulling at Lando’s waistband and releasing it to snap against flushed, pink skin, “He’s going to keep himself busy with you while I see if I can still taste the dulce on your thigh. Is that okay with you?”

You gulp, anticipatory. “M-more than okay.”

The younger man's eyes are all pupil, ringed with stormy-colored irises as he’s lowered by your side. You were contemplating teasing him about his brat complex—but the haze of his eyes causes you to reconsider.

The gap of his teeth remains adorable even as he bites his lips, the plush skin reddened and raw from where he’s already scraped the skin off. Prolonged eye contact from him seems impossible—his gaze flits away from yours after a handful of seconds. He struggles to decide where to look, happening upon your lips, zoning out with a yearning pout. Lando is clueless to the effect of his fixation; he reignites the redness on your cheeks and the skipping of your heartbeat.

Frightened by Carlos’s spit-slicked lips brushing along the bone of your ankle, you twitch, breaking Lando’s trance. 

The Brit’s blush deepens when he notices you’ve been watching him stare without saying a word. He muffles a mortified whimper into a pillow, smushing his face so deeply into the fabric you worry he may strangle himself. You glance at Carlos for assistance and the man only nods in the younger’s direction, continuing to drag his mouth up your legs, pausing to suckle the skin of your thighs and smirking when he feels the muscles flex underneath his lips.

“Lando, chico,” you croon, petting a hand through the curls at the crown of his head, “Look at me.”

He peeks an eye at you shyly, turning to face you fully, reassured at the enamored look you cover him with.

“Besamé,” you murmur, knowing it’s something Lando’s heard plenty of times from the man nestled between your legs. [Kiss me.] 

The younger understood, rushing to press his lips to yours filthly. The frantic energy is winsome, your chest tightening at the sounds of him whining and mewling needily into your mouth. He licks into your mouth insistently, his attention devoted to tasting the remaining sweetness of ice cream on your tongue. From below, Carlos hums as his tongue polishes off the remaining stickiness on your bronzed skin.

The sounds they rip from you are muffled by the younger man, but the grunt of annoyance Carlos makes as the lingering dulce de leche flavoring of your thigh disappears is clear. He drags his tongue against your labia in one firm stroke, your abdomen undulating at the unexpected attention to your cunt. He smacks his lips, savoring, before a moan rumbles through his chest.

“Better than the ice cream,” he announces, the brown of his iris darkened with greed. 

Lando frees your lips to look at his boyfriend pleadingly, and you take the time to breathe. He left you lightheaded as he kissed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

“ ‘wanna taste, ” Lando begs, and Carlos pulls up to meld their lips together, and you're briefly hypnotized by the muscles of his arms contracting through the movement.

The most reedy whine escapes the curly-haired man as Carlos shares the taste of your arousal with him. Your head is filled with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, buffering at the sight of the two men feasting on your essence—what were you thinking when you agreed to be a summer romance? You’re never going to be able to recover from this, and they haven’t even fucked you yet.

They separate, Lando’s chest heaving as he licks along his lips in search of any faint traces of your taste. Carlos resituates himself between your thighs, his voice carrying a firm edge, “Wait your turn, cariño. Keep being good for me—for us, yes?”

The younger man seems small as he nods, appearing a little empty-headed at the command, but he obeys. Turning back to peck your lips sweetly, Lando trails downward to leave a few marks of his own along the column of your neck.

You grab his jaw lightly, “No marks—,” the light in his eyes dulls slightly, “—that high up.” He brightens and lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your skin, energized by your nails scratching along his scalp.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as Carlos joins in. He laps between your folds sloppily, his nose knocking your clit with every bob pf his head. The hand that isn’t buried in brunette curls fists in Carlos’s locks of hair, holding him steady while he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Your brain buzzes, toes curling as the older man eats you out, the sounds of him enjoying his meal reverberating through the air, harmonizing with your cries and Lando’s snuffles as he toys with your nipples.

Carlos presses a finger inside, thrusting shallowly against your fluttering walls and his mouth purses around your bud, the suckle of his lips puppeteering your spine into arching and your hips into bucking. His stubble scratches your thighs, the scrape searing but adding to your gratification.

He curls upwards, dragging roughly through the clenching of your cunt, adding a second finger that your walls swallow voraciously. The ache of the stretch is calmed quickly by the ample leaking of your arousal and the constant attention of a tongue on your clit as Carlos steadfastly hunts for your sweet spot.

Your mewls are ragged, forced from your lungs with every press of his fingers. Your eyes flutter as pleasure singes your skin, you find the strength to hold them open as you lock gazes with the man between your legs. His eyes are characteristically wide, but they scream his commitment to making you scream.

There’s no fighting. Your head falls back when his fingers graze near that pleasure point and your eyes screw shut when he perfects the angle and massages your sweet spot with his fingertips. 

A shrill shriek leaves your lips as the penetration becomes unrelenting. He constantly presses on the button that has your thighs tightening around his head, but the temptation of taking his final breath between your legs has him doubling down, suckling at your clit forcefully as he prods a third finger inside of you.

Lando chokes, crying out loudly as your hand yanks at his curls, his hips jumping to grind along your hip, his briefs damp from where he’s been leaking. Carlos’s laugh as he watches his boyfriend desperately hump in search of friction, vibrates around your swollen bud, forcing out a squeal nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of your slick squelching around his fingers.

Abruptly, he pulls away. His digits slip from your walls, your entrance left to pucker hungrily around air. Carlos’s stare is loud as he fights the urge to press inside of you again.

The lack of stimulation is maddening. You free your hold on Lando, and he collapses onto you, body pinning yours to the bed—his weight steadying as you restrain your anger at the sudden halt.

You blink deliriously at the sight of Carlos tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. The slowing rhythm of your heart speeds up as you revel at the image of his hand rolling the condom down his hardened length, flushed and throbbing with arousal. 

It’s daunting. It’s been a long time since you’ve last had sex. At some point, you decided to prioritize protecting your peace rather than dealing with men who aren’t going to do anything other than ruin your PH and fail to make you cum. It doesn’t help that Carlos is well-endowed; you need to come to terms that you’re going to have a limp after this.

Lando sits upwards to watch his boyfriend drag his length through your folds, moaning in unison with you as Carlos’s tip brushes along your pulsing clit. The Spaniard grunts at the heated slide before resting at the gape of your entrance, but he looks up to you for your go ahead. 

“I-it’s been a while,” you admit tensely, covering your eyes with the back of your hand as anxiety builds in your navel.

“How long is ‘a while?’” Carlos asks, without a single hint of judgment. Lando pulls your hand off your face tenderly, revealing their compassionate expressions.

“You remember how I joked about not kissing you guys until a second date?” You toy with Lando’s fingers distractedly, and they confirm their recollection, “Well—there hasn’t been anybody that’s made it past a second date in a long time.”

“Carlos is gentle,” Lando reassures you, halting your play with his fingers to hold your hand comfortingly, “I promise. And he listens very well, and pays attention, and goes at your pace. If he doesn’t, I’ll beat his ass.”

You giggle at that, your nerves fading as Carlos yelps at the threat. This exact kind of behavior is the kind you can see yourself falling in love with.

“Ay! Yes—Lando has permission to knock some sense into me if I hurt you,” Carlos jokes, pausing momentarily before his tone becomes hopeful, “And, we would really like to be the ones who make it to a third date—I’ll follow your pace, I swear.”

The knot in your stomach tightens for another reason besides arousal.

“I believe you,” you murmur, relaxing back into the bed, raising your’s and Lando’s joined hands to press a kiss to his wrist. Lando hums sweetly at you, laying at your side again, his free hand cradling your waist, thumb brushing calmingly on your rich brown skin. 

Carlos breaches you softly—gently, as Lando said he would. The three fingers he stretched you with was a safe play. If it were only two, you would be feeling a sharp pain instead of an ache. The burn is delicious, your inhale stutters as the head of his cock pops into you.

“Joder,” Carlos curses, his jaw clenched tightly, his grip tight on your thighs, as he inches deeper. His eyes trace your complexion attentively for any sign that it’s too much. “Relax, mi corázon—let me in.”

The sweet endearment encourages you to pant through a tiny whimper. Lando’s hand pets along your navel as he sweeps a kiss across your brow bone.

“‘s big isn’t he?” He murmurs, voice breathy, “Fuck—it’s gonna be worth it when he’s all the way inside you, yeah? Stretching you out just right, touching spots you didn’t know existed. It hurts a little, I know, love. But, it hurts so good, doesn’t it? I don’t know how that fits inside me every time I take it, but it’s worth it.”

You whimper fitfully—you want to watch Carlos make him take it.

The discomfort twisting your brows lightens slightly, and Carlos pulls out before he sinks another inch in. The shallow stroke sends an appealing rush of sharp pleasure skittering up your spine and it pools at the back of your head.

A real moan is forced from your chest, and your eyes open to see Lando tucking a curl behind your ear, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah, that felt good didn’t it, baby?” You can’t solely credit the burst of pleasure behind your eyes to Carlos’s barely there thrusts as he works deeper. The praise and pet names Lando seems keen to utilize should be accounted for as well. The Brit presses down on your navel with an astoundingly large palm.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers, “Don’t you wanna feel him here? All deep inside of you?” He pauses briefly, letting your imagination work before continuing. “I feel him there when he fucks me. Like he’s making room for himself, yeah? Gonna open up for him? For me? Gonna let yourself feel good, sunshine?”

Carlos’s hips meet the backs of your thighs as he bottoms out.

Choked gasps leave you and Carlos. Your skin alight, your pores flaring raw. His calloused hands rub over your hips and thighs, one settling where Lando’s was previously holding at your waist and the other amply squeezing the curve of your ass.

Behind your closed eyes, you see the white flare of heat zinging through every nerve ending, your body overstimulated at receiving pleasure in the highest, unfiltered form. Lando was right—it feels like he made room for himself. The weight of him is searing, your walls fluttering frantically as they adjust.

Your most conscious thought is realizing why orgasms are referred to as “little deaths.” Because, if him fucking into you for the first time is this good? Cumming around him has to feel akin to ascending to heaven.

The younger man turns your head towards him with a gentle nudge of your cheek. His eyes peer into you searchingly. You don’t know what he’s trying to find. You’re more concerned with coaxing him into another kiss.

You raise up with an unsteady arm, toppling forward to press your lips to his, but you miss and land near the corner of his mouth. At your disappointed grown, Lando moves to kiss you chastely, before he looks at Carlos.

The older man’s eyes are silken as they dance between you and his boyfriend. It takes Lando tugging him forward with a hand on his bicep for him to understand that you’re pining for a kiss from him as well.

The Spaniard catches the strangled mewl you make with his lips, the change in angle as he hovers over you amplifying the pressure of him within you tenfold. Delicately, he leads the dance of tongues, using the lip lock to distract you from the barely there roll of his hips.

It works, the nervous tension that had gathered in your core unraveling completely at the sensual rock. The grinds remain tender as he gradually works you up to weightier strokes and a quicker rhythm.

Your lips uncouple when your head lulls backwards, a drawn-out purr rolling underneath your chest. With your knees bending to cradle Carlos’s hips, you cast lidded eyes to the Spaniard, bathing underneath his appreciative gaze and the blissful twist to his brows as he rolls into you.

“Carlitos, fóllame,” you murmur, watching his eyes widen in surprise, “I said it’s been a long time, not that I’m going to break.” [Fuck me.]

Lando grins beside you, quieting his laughter by pressing his face into your hair. The older man flusters, a red flush spreading across his chest, and he reminds you that he’d promised to be gentle.

His dedication to his word is attractive and you’re thankful he followed through. You tell him as such, but not without another teasing jab, “Thank you for being gentle. However, I think continuing to be gentle when I ask for more might decrease your chances at a third date.”

Lando jerks upwards to gape at the two of you, frazzled, “That’s not even funny! Babe—do better!”

The brown-eyed man doesn’t entertain either of you with a verbal response.

A bitten-off shout is punched from your chest as his hips slam into you with vigor, your vision crossing as the older man settles into a hard pace. His cock threatens to slip out of you with every stroke out and your body jolts with every ruthless thrust inside, the maddening force turning your mind syrupy with arousal and lightning-hot pleasure.

Endless praise is voiced by Carlos between every rough grunting pant he releases. Your brain is filled with seductive words; bien chica, so tight, you sound so pretty, you can take it. 

You can only hope he hears your gratitude through your repeated moans. You dig your nails into his muscled back as he grazes your sweet spot every couple of thrusts. The sharp pain only has Carlos’s hips stuttering for a moment. He growls, his grip turns bruising as he fucks into you with abandon. Your lungs burn and your legs shake. You squirm beneath him fruitlessly, attempting to buck away from the overwhelming grind, but you're pinned underneath his body weight. Your escape attempt is noticed by both men.

Lando tuts, pressing you down into the mattress with an arm around your waist to prevent any future attempt of you shifting. “Don’t run from it, sunshine.”

Carlos laughs sardonically, and you squeal as shame crawls along your synapses at the noise. He changes the angle of his thrusts to bully that spongy spot inside of you relentlessly, “It’s not too much, no? I thought you said you didn’t want me to be gentle?”

Your body curls in distress, mouth-parted wide at the excruciating attention paid to your most nirvanic point . You try to squeeze your walls tighter around him, to afflict a hint of the unbearable pleasure he’s wreaked upon you. Your shocked to discover that he’s fucked you open so well that your cunt can’t do much more than take what he gives you.

Your wetness squelches with his motions, a thin layer of sweat accumulates on your skin and steams the air around you. The scent of sex and aftertaste of ice cream permeates your mind as your orgasm peaks. 

It bursts through you, the intensity slamming through you like a train. Your body falls limp as the pleasure overrides your control, the unrestrained screams of their names are piercing as the waves brutally crash over you. 

Carlos slams his lips to yours, your teeth clacking together painfully and you can only pant into his mouth as he messily kisses you through your orgasm and steamrolls into his own with his strongest pounding thrusts.

Spanish curses are hidden by your mouth as he lays into you, like he’s not quite done molding you to his shape. He fucks you both through it, the vigor of his grinds wearing as the spurts of his spend slows within the condom. 

His arms buckle, pushing an umphf from your chest as he falls onto you. The heaviness is grounding and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Lando shifts needily at your side, but doesn’t speak. He pulls the arm on your waist from underneath his Carlos’s torso and drags a finger along the reddened scores your nails carved into his boyfriend’s back, with a look in your eyes you can’t place. Is it envy? Quietly, you contemplate the ache you feel between your legs. 

“Get naked, cariño,” you rasp, finding a second wind at the younger man doing as you asked, “It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t get a turn, too.”

Carlos nuzzles deeper into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, his lips and eyelashes tickling your cooling skin. He misses the sight of his boyfriend wildly flinging his briefs to an unknown corner of the bedroom.

Sitting on his haunches, the Brit’s reaches to grab his cock. It’s leaking and (concerningly) redder than the skin of his cheeks from the lack of attention paid to it. He yanks his hand back as if slapped, and digs his nails into the meat of his thighs.

Oh, you think, is it too much for him or is he not supposed to touch?

You reach to close your palm around his poor, dripping length, only managing a single, loose stroke when a pained hiss is ripped from Lando’s teeth. His hips jerk back, freeing himself from barely there hold of your hand. The toned muscles of his abdomen jump as his cock flares and a stream of precum dribbles from his swollen tip.

“Fu-uck,” he shakes, “— ‘can’t. Too sensitive, ‘ll cum.”

The green and blue pools of his eyes are wet with moisture, and his chest—dotted with moles and patches of flushed skin—trembles with every inhale. The man laying on your chest shifts to trail his eyes over Lando’s form. The corner of his lips tilts into a smirk as his boyfriend attempts to hide his arousal behind a hand.

“Sol,” Carlos says to you as his eyes remain piercing into the Brit, “You should ride him—if you are able to, of course.” [Sunshine/Sun]

“Uhh…” you stutter, your attention bouncing between the two as you refrain from answering. 

The numbness settling within your cunt can be ignored if it means you get to have the younger man underneath you. Except, it looks like he’s about to cry, and you don’t want to pressure him into agreeing with your answer if he honestly can’t handle it. The teary-eyed man whimpers thinly, splaying himself on his back next to you, looking past you to meet Carlos’s eyes meekly, his voice tiny as he responds, “—won’t last.”

The Spaniard pulls out of you slowly, murmuring apologies and kissing your cheekbone when your brow twinges in discomfort. He helps you straddle the younger man’s hips, careful to support you as your legs haven’t stopped quivering.

His hand drifts between your pelvises, dragging a nail along the underside of Lando’s cock and you can’t deny the buzz of electricity that sings in your gut at the younger man’s wounded cry. The tears spill over his waterline, though he’s squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop them from falling. Carlos tuts at the man patronizingly.

“Too much, Landito?” Carlos pouts at him, “It is fine if you cannot take it. If you don’t want to cum tonight that’s—“

Lando’s eyelids spring open, looking at Carlos desperately as he babbles, “No,no,no,no—‘wanna cum. Please, ‘los.”

The seconds Carlos spends rolling protection over Lando’s cock are filled with choked gasps as the younger man cries, overwhelmed at the lightest touch of fingertips. You lower around his cock smoothly, walls clenching around him greedily, vision tunneling on the soundless bliss of his expression when your ass meets his skin.

You hum at the fullness, your mind settling at how right it feels. The first circle of your hips has Lando’s hands clawing at your hips, adding his own marks on your skin to compliment his boyfriend’s. He wriggles, overwhelmed, but bucks to meet your rolling body regardless.

He’s flushed from head to waist, fresh tears painting tracks of salt down his face before they drip off his jawline to splash on the bed sheets. Your pace remains tantric, and you don’t move more than an inch upwards to avoid testing his limits. The suckling, hot, drag is more than enough for him, if the pulsing of his cock is any telling. Your own sensitivity begins to bite at the base of your spine, your brain exhausted at the feeling of Lando pressing into the rawness that Carlos carved out.

The Spaniard must notice the way the two of you are tiring of chasing euphoria. Lando’s grinds weaken as the precipice of ecstasy is dangled in front of him, hoarse sobs racking through him as he fails to reach it on his own. Carlos splays his hand across Lando’s throat. The Brit’s whimpers pleadingly, and his mouth parts roundly as his boyfriend applies a light pressure to the sides of his neck. 

Lando shakes apart underneath you with uneven thrusts, his helpless gasps echoing through the room as you continue the grind of your hips to coax him through the bliss of release. He bodily restricts your movements when you edge him towards too-much, pulling you off of him with a single hand underneath your thigh. 

Your knees buckle, pitching over to lie face down next to the British man, who mewls sharply as Carlos pulls the soiled condom off. The heat of the Spaniard disappears, the sheets ruffling as he leaves the bed, causing Lando to make a noise of confusion.

“Water, mi amor,” Carlos chuckles, and you’re happy your face is hidden as you can’t contain your expression of envy at the endearment. He maneuvers Lando’s arms to curl around you, “I am getting us water. I will be quick.”

The younger man, as fucked-out as he is, uses a surprising amount of force to pull you into his chest as he buries his nose in your frazzled nest of hair. He uses his other hand to pull your leg around his hip and hums happily when your bodies press together without an ounce of space to spare. He squeezes you tightly, your dejected frown disappearing as you bask in his embrace, uncaring of the layer of sweat pooling on your cooling skin and the stickiness of your thighs.

There’s three cups with straws in Carlos’s hands as he rejoins the two of you on the bed. He sets one on the nightstand and holds the other two while you and Lando untangle your limbs. Once Carlos is satisfied by the slow sips you two take, he slinks into the bathroom and returns with a warm, soaked cloth to wipe the grime from everyone’s bodies. 

He’s careful about the press of the rag, paying attention to every muscle that tenses in sensitivity and tries to do the job as painless as possible. He nods in content once finished, scooping his glass up to rehydrate himself as well.

Lando bites at the metal straw, the gap of his teeth ridiculously cute even as his eyes brighten with mischief, “So…five minutes and we go again?”

“¡Que te jodan!” You cast a look of disbelief at him, “Lando you just cried through an entire orgasm and you want to go again? Already?” [Fuck you!]

The Brit shrugs loftily, slurping through the last bit of water in his cup and toothily smiling as he blinks at you in feigned innocence. His softened length twitches to attention, and you rest your head in your hand, shutting your eyes briefly for strength.

“Oh, what the hell,” you mumble, before clearing your throat, speaking louder, “I need like 15 minutes—or, until I can feel my legs again. Whichever comes first.”

Carlos collects the empty cup from Lando and sets it on the nightstand with his own. “Would you like to watch him fall apart around me while you wait?”

You choke on the sip of water in your mouth, coughing desperately to clear your throat as your eyes water from the burn. The worried look in the Spaniard’s eyes has an amused tinge to it, even as he pats you on the back in aid—you have a feeling he timed his question with your swallow on purpose.

“That’s a stupid question,” you croak, strangled, “Of course, I want to watch.”

You snuffle against a warmed patch of skin annoyed. The heat of sunlight paints your face golden, and you shift to burrow further into the warmth of limbs around you to drowsily slip back into sleep. You find yourself nodding off, but your ears become alert to the sounds of birds calling and chirping outside. 

Your body reacts before your brain as you fly upwards into a seated position. Shit! You have to go to work!

A pained whimper is exhaled as your lower body aches, sore from last night’s activities. The tangle of tanned arms fall limply around your waist at your change in position, the snores of the two men beside you uninterrupted. You carefully pry their arms away, and slip from the bed, digging through the pile of clothes on the floor, grinding your teeth at the numbness of your legs underneath you.

You dress yourself quickly, closing your eyes in thanks for Carlos forcing you into the shower before you passed out. Hopping across the bedroom to tug your skirt up, you stumble into the bathroom to examine the state you're in, pulling your shirt over your head all the while. 

Your curls are a mess, but that can be fixed at work. Lando respected your wishes of keeping his marks below the collar, but you can spot a few of the bruises on your thighs that their fingertips left. 

You curse briefly, unsure if you have a skirt long enough that would hide the mottled skin before remembering that you have a pair of biker shorts that you can slide on underneath that will get the job done. Pressing a thumb into the shape of Carlos’s thumb, you shiver at the glance of pain that sparks up your spine, swallowing tightly as you recall how it was left there.

With a shake of your head to expel the unseemly thoughts, you turn the faucet on to splash water on  your face. You need to call an Uber to get to work. Rushing out of the en-suite, you frantically search for your phone, trying to remain silent to avoid waking up the boys tucked in that ridiculously plush mattress.

“¿Qué estas buscando?” You screech frightfully at the rough timber of Carlos’ voice, spinning around to look at him. [What are you looking for?]

He’s preciously ruffled; his hair sticks up wildly, the comforter draped around his waist as he leans upwards, the planes of his tanned skin sharp in the morning hours, his eyes squinted in your direction under the brightness of the room—the curtains are wide open. 

Did you have sex—illuminated with a single lamp—with the curtains wide open? That’s a problem to fixate over later, you need your phone.

“Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it,” you straighten your shirt, your volume quieting near the end of your sentence as Lando shifts in the bed with a displeased pout that softens when he settles.

“I plugged it in here for you,” Carlos whispers, rolling to take it off the charger, flashing the marks your nails etched into his back. 

He lifts himself out of bed with a rough groan, your mouth drying as you watch him walk to you, clad in a pair of boxers that leave little (it’s not little at all, actually) to the imagination. Carlos’s hand cushions your cheek as he brushes his lips on yours softly, the delicate rhythm washing away your concerns about being late. 

Your lips break apart with a soft pop and he laughs at the discontented sigh you exhale, offering a languid press of lips to your forehead in apology. You reluctantly take the phone from his hand, your eyes bugging out as you realize that you needed to leave five minutes ago to have plenty of time to fix your appearance before you clock in.

“¡Puta madre!” you exclaim, “I’m fucked. I’m going to be so late ‘cause I have to wait for an car.”

“ —Wait for a car?” Carlos’s eyebrows twist in confusion, scratching at his stubble, “Where are you going? You are not staying?”

You throw him a soft look, turning away to figure out where your socks disappeared to, “I’m late for work, Carlitos. I can’t stay—even though I really want to.”

Carlos ah’s in understanding, assisting you in the search for your socks, his voice still croaky with disuse as he talks, “I can drive you? We are only twenty minutes away if you follow the road laws.”

You huff a laugh at his insinuation, tugging your socks on and patting at his arm softly, before gesturing to Lando in the bed, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you, you should be in bed with him. It’s my fault for not having my alarm properly set.”

Carlos shakes his head, rooting through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants that he pulls on, “You are not inconveniencing me. It would be rude if I let you be late to work after last night. I’m not that kind of man. Neither of us are.”

You give in as you watch him pull a plain white tee over his head—he’s too sweet for a fleeting romance. He ambles over to Lando, brushing the unruly curls off his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple. He tucks the blankets around his boyfriend and a lick of jealousy blooms in your subconscious before you pluck it. 

Carlos grabs his own phone off another charger and stands, speaking to you warmly, “Your shoes and purse are downstairs, yes? There’s some protein bars in the kitchen pantry, grab as many as you want. I should have treated you to a proper breakfast but you do not have the time. I’m going to use the bathroom quickly, if that’s okay?”

You nod, and Carlos quietly shuts the bathroom door behind him. You breathe deeply at the situation you’ve found yourself in, and you scramble to send a quick text to the group chat telling them to cover for you and promising to cover a shift for anybody who does in the future. 

Your phone buzzes almost instantly after with an influx of messages and you click the screen off. They’re probably freaking out at the uncharacteristic vagueness of your whereabouts, but you put off responding to press your own kiss to Lando’s temple before heading downstairs, tenderly stepping to minimize the unsteadiness of your walk.

You appreciate the decor you didn’t get to see last night, the vacation home vibes blatant as you walk through; a modern twist of Spanish style decor. There’s even a fireplace you spot on your way past a sitting room.

You lace up your sneakers, grabbing your purse from the console table in the entryway before searching for the kitchen to grab a protein bar to hold you over until your lunch break. The kitchen is artful, modern in the sense of the new appliances but the colors and details of the tiled walls, clutter, and cabinets gives it a soul. It feels lived in.

You dryly swallow an ibuprofen—you always carry a few in your purse—hoping it will relieve your soreness before work. You open the pantry door, finding an assortment of protein bars and taking your time to read the labels as you hear a door open which means Carlos is heading down. You grab two bars that fit your taste and softly shut the door, unwrapping one to take a bite of now.

“Ah, I knew I would see you again,” Carlos Sr. smiles at you from the kitchen entry, chuckling at the way you jump and nearly drop the bars in your hands, “I will not lie to you, I thought it would be at the golf club and not here.”

Your lips part and seal as you search for a polite answer, but he continues speaking.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he clasps his hands delightfully, “Did my son tell you that he’s been asking me about you every time I am on the course? Papá, did you see her? Papá, when are you going back to Madrid? Aye, they’re smitten over you, mija?”

“¿En serio?” you relax at his mellow tone, enlightened by the new information. [Really?]

“¡Sí!” The older man exclaims, passing by you to start a pot of coffee, “To be honest, I thought you were out of their league last summer,” you laugh, knowing it’s definitely the other way around, “—Honestly!” He insists, turning to face you as the coffee starts to drip.

“I mean, you are in university, getting a further degree,” he shakes his head in respect of your commitment, “Those two just drive in circles for a living! I couldn’t even convince my son to drive rally like I did, ese cabrón.” [That bastard.]

You laugh a little harder at the jab on his own son, muffling it behind a hand, and he continues, “—And, when they told me they did not get your number! Ay! I was so mad at them. I told them to drop everything and go after you, but by the time they made their way up there you were already gone.”

You feel like shit about your outburst on the green. Your expression shutters, and he pats at your shoulder in comfort, “Oh. I-I didn’t know—“

“How could you?” He hums in question, “It is not your fault, if that’s what you are—“

“Mi sol, have you seen my wallet—” Carlos Jr. steps into the kitchen, words cutting off as he balks at the sight of his father, and he shouts, “Papá! ¿Qué hace aquí?” [My sunshine; Dad! What are you doing here?]

“¿Qué estoy haciendo en la casa que compré?” His dad fires back, amused at his son’s stunned question. [What am I doing in the house I bought?]

Carlos blinks at his dad before turning to you, slipping his hand into yours and tugging you out of the kitchen softly, “Let’s go; you’re going to be late, no?”

Sr. chortles as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, “¡Mijo! Hiding a woman from me?! It is okay, Lando will tell me everything. That is why he’s my favorite son!”

Carlos throws his head back with an exasperated groan, but it doesn’t hide the redness of his ears from his father’s teasing.

You stifle your smile, squeezing his hand pacifyingly, “Your wallet is in the bowl at the front. Um, if it’s possible,” you tuck a curl behind your ear shyly, “Do you have another car besides the Ferrari? I love it, but I cannot show up stepping out of that.”

Carlos snorts, shoving his wallet into his pocket and leading you to the garage, “Is a Porsche fine?”

“It’ll work.”

He gets you there in thirteen minutes, slowing the car to a crawl as you direct him to the employee entrance. You grab your purse, awkwardly pausing as you pop the door open. 

You face him with a sheepish grin, “Thank you for the ride. Tell Lando I said good morning.”

Carlos drags his eyes over your form languidly, before he nods imperceptibly, “Do you have enough time to get ready?”

“You’ve made up a few extra minutes for me with your skilled driving on the way here,” Carlos huffs a laugh at that, “So, I should be okay.”

The two of you fall back into silence, unsure of what else to say. You take the leap of faith this time around, it’s the most you can do after learning the way they tried to catch you before you left last summer.

“It wouldn’t be overstepping if I kissed you, right?”

“Ven aquí,” Carlos exhales, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the console to meet you halfway. [Come here.]

His lips are swollen and textured from your’s and Lando’s combined attention, but the kiss is the sweetest and most tender one you’ve ever experienced. The soft exhale of breath from his nose stokes the butterflies in your stomach, who flutter awake as adoration pumps through your veins. The two of you part, eyes fluttering open to stare softly. He settles back into his seat, looking at your lips longingly, his line of sight broken as you exit the vehicle.

You clear your throat, “Um, I’ll text you guys when I get home later, okay? Adiós, te qu—hasta luego.” [Bye, I l—see you later.]

You shut the door and speed walk into the building before he could say anything about how you nearly exposed how down bad you are already. You hope he doesn’t bring it up, for the sake of your mental stability. The moment you step into the employee locker room, you're accosted by your friends, Isa, Lucas, and Stephanie. 

“Damn,” Lucas snaps, “I was really hoping you’d be late. I need my shift on Tuesday covered.”

You shrug, sliding past the girls to walk to your locker. “Sucks to suck.”

“¡Oye, pequeña!” Isa and Stephanie box you in at your locker as you grab your spare uniform and sport shorts, Isa stresses, “You cannot, walk in here and act like nothing happened! You show up wearing the outfit I picked out for you yesterday? Your hair is a mess! You sent the vaguest text about possibly showing up late? And, you get dropped off in a Porsche!?” [Hey, girly(i guess, idrk how to explain it)!]

Stephanie’s eyes blow wide and you rest your head into the cool metal of your locker door as she bursts, “Girl—did you get laid?!”

“Thank you for that, Steph,” you bite out, turning to look at them with the politest grimace you can muster, “Now, everyone will know exactly what I got up to last night because Lucas—,” you point behind you with a thumb, speaking loudly to drive your words in, “—Is physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut.”

He raises his hands up and backs out of the locker room with a devious smile. 

Turning to Isa, you shake your head, “I do not know why you like him. He’s such a chismosa.” [Gossip.]

She rolls her eyes at you, following you as you make your way into the bathroom, “It’s not a bad thing. He tells me all of the gossip I miss out on–why are there bruises on your thigh—holy fuck! He must have big hands. Which means he has a big—”

“Okay!” You screech, running into a stall and locking the door shut behind you, “I will tell you and the girls every single detail as soon as we finish today!”

She makes a triumphant noise, her steps fading as she exits the restroom, “You better! Or, I’ll force you to listen to me wax poetic about Lucas’s eyes for hours!”

Scoffing, you tug your shirt over your head and yell back, “You already do that anyways!”

The slicked-back ponytail you gelled your hair into, has already sprung flyaways since you didn’t have enough time to set your hair with a wrap before you had to drive out onto the course. You’re almost three hours into your shift, and the sun feels like it’s at its strongest even though you have a few more hours of it burning hotter. Only twenty minutes until lunch, you remind yourself, then you can fix your hair and cool down in the restaurant's walk-in freezer.

You’ve just finished serving a bachelor party, a group of ten men who didn’t give you a hard time. You talked loosely with them, engaging in small talk because connections are everything and you never know who you might run into on the green.

Like Carlos and Lando, case in point.

The groom-to-be actually met his fiancé here. She was a bartender in the clubhouse about seven years ago, and on complete chance she ended up being the one to serve him. He was starry-eyed as he explained to you that he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. He ordered an unbelievably expensive amount of drinks for him and his boys (the same group of men in the bachelor party), and when she slid the bill over to him, he said, “For this price, you could’ve bought me for the night.”

You called bullshit, and he looked at his friends who backed up his words; they all heard it when he said it. You watched as he took a sip from his beer bottle with a reverent shake of his head, “Now, we’re getting married next week. On August 12th, or 8/12. Which was the price of the tab that night, $812.”

You made a joke about him needing to strengthen his self-esteem if he would consider selling his body for a measly $800, and to attend an A.A. meeting because that’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend on drinks that leave your system quicker than you ingested them. 

The men crowed in laughter at your ribbing of the groom-to-be, but you did seriously congratulate him on his engagement and wished him a long, happy marriage.

And currently, you’ve parked your cart for a few minutes to get over the urge you feel to cry. You're jealous of a woman you’ve never met before because she gets to love a man who’s devoting the rest of his life to her. She gets to marry him, and you’ve agreed to be nothing more than a summer romance to the men you could see yourself falling in love with.

You thank the universe for allowing you to cross paths with the groom-to-be. It reminded you of your place with the Formula One drivers and it’s a temporary one.

Your walkie-talkie crackles with the sound of your name and you sniffle deeply, blinking your eyes quickly to rid the moisture. 

“What’s up?” You chirp cheerily into the voice box, waiting for a response.

“By chance, are you missing your earrings? Over.” It’s Ryan, he takes his radio messages seriously. You tug at your earlobes, and damn, you feel naked.

“I am. Did I leave them in the dressing room?”

“You have to say ‘over’ at the end of your messages, you know that. Over.”

“Ryan...” you hold the line open to annoy him a little bit before you give in, “Did I leave them in the dressing room? O-v-e-r, over.”

“I was going to be nice to you but you lost that chance. Over.” 

You snort, intrigued to hear how he’s going to ‘retaliate.’ The two of you started here at the same time and Ryan has become like a little brother to you, against your will. 

“I just wanted to let you know that two objectively handsome men turned in your earrings to the front desk,” you shout in surprise, firing up the golf cart and slamming the pedal down to head back to the clubhouse, “Hmm…I think they said you left them at their house last night. Overrrrr.” He draws the ‘over’ out teasingly and the walkie-talkie squeals with static and screams of surprise from the other employees on the channel.

“TWO? YOU FREAK!!!” Lucas.

Incoherent screaming. Isa.

“Nobody here can call me a slut anymore!” Rob.

“Is that why you couldn’t sit comfortably at the morning meeting?!” Sofia.

Ryan’s voice crackles through, “Oh! I forgot to mention—don’t worry about stealing food from the restaurant for lunch; they dropped off a meal for you. Over.”

The walkie-talkie explodes with noise and you turn the volume to zero. You’re reporting them all to HR.

You tune out the jeers in the break room as you devour a croquetade jamón and chase it with a spoonful of rice. You send a photo of the food with a thumbs-up in the frame, to Carlos and Lando. You type out your thanks for the jewelry return and lunch. There’s no hesitation as you press send on message inquiring about when the third date is going to happen.

The third date is private cooking lesson where you’re coached through making a few classic Spanish tapas. Lando immersed too deeply and only responded to ‘Chef Lando’ during the class. Carlos ate all of the chorizo he was supposed to use on his flatbread. You terrify the actual chef with your less than savory cutting technique. Your torn apart on their fingers that night, as they take turns coaxing you over the cliff.

You decrease the amount hours you’re able to work at the golf course. You’re only on the schedule during the middle of the week–Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday—leaving you with a four day weekend to frolic around Madrid with your boyfr—with Carlos and Lando.

The fourth date is dinner and a show. It’s your first time watching a ballet, and your lucky enough to be watching the performance at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe. It’s also the first time you get railed in a women’s bathroom stall at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe.

Lando pants raggedly as he fucks into you from behind, “Ah—shit, sunshine, you’re so tight.”

Your moan is muffled around Carlos’s cock and he hisses at the vibration, knocking his head against the stall door loudy. 

When Lando climaxes, he whimpers out a, “te quiero.” You pretend to miss it as you concentrate on sucking Carlos to completion. Carlos licks his spend from your tongue, babbling his te quiero’s into your mouth. You don’t say it back. [Te quiero means I love you, but it’s more casual, less serious in nature.]

The fifth date is pottery and you ride Carlos’s face to the image of Lando’s hands coning down his clay on the wheel. The sixth date is driving around the outskirts of Madrd’s city limits and passing the phone around to queue a song to play as you three switch between talking and enjoying the tunes. 

The seventh date is painting the mugs you made; you made two, one for Carlos and one for Lando—they each made you one as well. You’ve painted Carlos’s as a lemon and Lando’s as an orange—and homage to the sip of sunshine line they pulled on you. Lando painted a field of sunflowers for you. Carlos painted a sun with rays spilling from it, the words ‘my sunshine’ scripted into the middle of the sun.

Somewhere between the fifth and seventh date, they became comfortable with saying te quiero  to you outside of sex. 

It’s said as you serve them drinks on the course, as they drop you of at home after dates, as they cuddle with you without wanting more, as they wake you up between them in the morning. 

You give in somewhere beewen the sixth and seventh date. But, you only allow yourself to say te quiero during or after sex.

And, you stifle your sobs of anguish into your pillow at home, dreading the day you return to school and they return to racing.

Your dad enjoys the mobile car show of priceless automobiles that appear in his driveway to pick you up. Your mom eagerly awaits your renditions of your dates every night and you’re careful to edit around the explicit parts. 

The dates progress to you spending your four days off at their  Carlos Sr. 's vacation home, packing a bag with your necessities so you don’t have to risk wasting time away from them by stopping at your house. They take the time to explain to you just how much of a goat Lewis Hamilton is. Lando helps with your wash day, soaking up your tidbits of advice for his own curls. Carlos lets you soundboard ideas for your dissertation off of him without complaining, iterjecting every once in a while with a viewpoint you hadn’t considered. 

Your craving for intimacy is satiated. They twirl you around in the kitchen to Spanish ballads they sing terribly at the top of their lungs. They terrorize you on the green, choosing increasingly difficult cocktails for you to make so you have to spend more time with them instead of doing your job. You and Carlos terrorize Lando with a football games of keep away. You and Lando terrorize Carlos by hiding his shirts from him so he has to walk around topless. They don’t terrorize you in retaliation—if you don’t count their constant te quiero’s as terrorizing acts.They pick you up at some ridiculous hours when you’ve gone clubbing with your friends; making sure you chug a glass of water, helping you rinse off in the shower and moisturizing your skin before dressing you in their clothes, doing your skincare for you before putting you to bed. 

They drag their feet through helping you repack your belongings on the morning of your last day in Spain. You let Lando get away with tugging garments out of your bag every time you turn your back to him, hiding your smile as you see Carlos assist him by stuffing it at the bottom of the pile of clothes that doesn’t seem to shrink.

Eventually, they give up. Their eyes trace your form as you do your last walkaround to make sure you haven’t left anything behind. Your check ends at the front door, grabbing your keys from the bowl on the entryway table.

You sigh heavily, “Well, don’t just stand there.”

They gravitate towards you, hugging you tightly and peppering an endless amount of bittersweet kisses along any patch of skin they can reach. Lando hunches down to hide his face in your neck, and Carlos rests his forehead against yours.

“¡Chicos, calmaté!” Your giggly exclamation sounds watery, “I am coming back next year, remember?”

“That’s too longgg,” Lando complains into your neck, his voice sounding as pitiful as yours. You step backwards to cradle his face between your hands. His cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are dejected even as he smiles shakily under your touch.

“Date us.” Carlos blurts out desperately, “Ay, perdóname—May we date you, please?” [Forgive me.]

You gape at the older man, struggling to ascertain what he’s asked of you. 

Stumbling gracelessly, your hands fall from Lando’s face, who makes a hurt noise at the loss. “Date me? I thought you both said this was just a fling?”

The Brit twists his hands together at your words, his face saddening further as he corrects you, “Summer romance—fling is too harsh.”

“Too casual?” You shout, “I thought this was supposed to be casual! I felt like shit whenever I didn’t say te quiero back! I wanted more the moment we sat down at that restaurant a month ago, but I thought I couldn’t have it because that’s not what we agreed on!”

“You want more?” Carlos clarifies, his tone optimistic. 

“¡Cabrón!”  You laugh, hurtling forward to throw your arms around his neck. Relieved tears spill over your waterline, soaking into the Spaniard’s shirt. “I’m damn near in love with you guys–yes,yes,yes, I want more.”

Lando glows, blubbering incoherently with happiness and you shush him with your lips.

“I wish you had asked me days ago,” you sniffle cutely, smiling crookedly as you continue, “—’cause I really do have to leave, or I won’t have enough time to pack my things into my suitcases at home.”

You groan as you find yourself with an armful of two Formula One drivers bemoaning the unfairness of being separated from you even though they just got you.

“Mis amores, escúchame—you had me the entire time,” you coo, “We all know how phones work. We can communicate speedily with texts, and video calls, and send voice messages, and even regular calls. If we’re doing this we have to have a serious talk about it when I land in the States, yeah? Long distance is difficult, but I’m willing to put in the effort to make it work, if you two do the same.” [My loves, listen to me.]

“Phone sex isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Lando quips, smiling as he watches you and Carlos chortle at the unexpected comment.

The laughter ringing through the air fizzles out. You bite your lip, shaking your head slightly as their stares fixate on your mouth. They haven’t managed to stop ogling at your lips over the course of the month.

“Te quiero,” you state. Lando repeats it back instantly, Carlos kisses you before doing the same.

You pick up your bag from the floor, “Promise me that you’ll do your best to make this relationship work.”

Their confirmations are swift, even taking turns crossing their pinkies with yours and with themselves. Your heart sings with love. They walk you to your car. Carlos takes the bag from your hand and places it in your backseat, Lando holds your door open, making sure you don’t hit your head as you sit in the driver’s seat. 

He shuts the door smoothly, and you roll down the window to exchange your last goodbyes. 

“See you next summer.”

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© httpsserene2024 — photos used are from pinterest (edited by me). borders by @cafekitsune.

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

...

...

...

thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden Pt 5~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome back to Snake in the Garden! I do apologize for my long absence. College has started back up; my depression has been kicking my butt and writing block for this chapter were just a few reasons for the delay. However, I'm back with a bang! I highly recommend reading the warnings on this chapter as it does get a bit intense. Oh, and from the bottom of my heart: thank you all so much for supporting this fanfiction! I cherish every like, reblog and read every comment posted on each chapter. I plan to have multiple parts after this one, so I hope you stay. Also, the taglist is open, so if you'd like to be added don't hesitate to comment! As always, have a great day/night and enjoy part five!

Words: 9626

Warnings: Swearing (more than usual), Non-Con Touching, Non-Con Kissing, Non-Con Sexual Advances/Harassment, Reader is forced to wear skimpy clothes, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Body Horror, Lots of Blood, Various Characters gain Trauma from Lucifer, Lucifer goes into Beast Mode, Lucifer's Obsession goes off the rails, Possessive treatment to Reader, Talk of hanging by snake, Kidnapping, Talk of watching someone die, Major Yandere Behavior from Lucifer, Reader gets Pushed Around, Reader gets put in a Cell, Degrading Name Calling-mainly to Reader, Talk of Cannibalism, Reference to Disturbing use of Body Parts, Talk of Sexual Actions, Talk of Drinking Blood, Reader Suffers Abundantly in this Chapter, Seriously who gave Lucifer a Sword

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I gasped and my eyes widened as I stared at the two beings in my living room. The one who spoke was a larger man. He appeared to have a dad bod underneath his white, purple and gold robe. The black mask he wore had two large horns attached and his golden facial features held a smug look. Behind him stood a female. She too wore a black mask, her horns curled inwards. She appeared to be wearing a black tunic with black skin tight pants and light gray thigh high boots to match. The crude white stitched mouth scowled at me, almost acting like I was wasting her time. I gulped, both sets of eyes watching me like a hawk. “W-who are you? What do you want?”

The masked man set down his bag of Doritos (which I realized were from my cupboard) and offered a hand. “The name’s Adam, sweetheart. I’m the First Man.”

I looked down at his hand and then back at him. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “If you’re the First Man, does that mean that Lucifer sent you to come get me?”

I stepped back in fear as he cackled, holding his stomach. “Heavens no! I hate that son of a bitch!”

I lowered my guard a bit. “If you’re not with him, why are you here?”

Adam stopped laughing and brushed his robe. “I’ve come to take you to Heaven with me.”

“But I have no business there. I’m not even dead!”

“I can grant you permission. Let’s say it's one of the perks of being a celebrity.”

He pointed his fingers at me as if they were guns and he clicked his tongue. I looked between him and his companion. She tilted her head towards her master as if to say take his hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on! Lucifer can’t touch you while you’re on Holy ground. And I have a funny feeling he’d like to get his claws on you, if you know what I’m saying.”

I cringed in disgust at what he was implying. “Besides, I can be your bodyguard! I have special privileges being famous after all. And my wingspan is bigger than Lucifers!”

I looked down at my engagement ring. The snake seemed to coil tight around my finger as the eye glimmered, daring me to trust in the Heavenly man’s words. I bit my lip and looked up at him, his female companion now by his side. The sword at her side glinted and I could picture it ramming into my fiance. I could see the light leave his eyes and blood spill down his snow white skin. The betrayal would show on his face as it had mine when he took me to Hell. I felt my lips twitch into a smile as I realized that maybe, just maybe, these two were my allies. My eyes met Adam’s and I gave a quick nod. “I’ll go with you.”

His smile curled up by his eyes. “Good choice, babe. Lute prepare the portal.”

“Yes, sir.”

The woman stepped forward and raised her sword to the sky. She began to draw a symbol that looked like a cross and chanted under her breath. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, let these three souls enter Heaven freely.”

As soon as she finished, gold mist began to circle the ceiling. It began to sprinkle down around us, causing me to sneeze. “Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

I looked up and was amazed to see a bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Sunlight streamed down and it felt warm on my skin. “It’s ready, sir.”

“C’mon, babe! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

“Wait!”

I brought my fingers around my ring and forced it off. Relief flooded my body as I set it on the coffee table and I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was finally free. “I’m ready now.”

I let out a squeak as he hoisted me up by my waist, his hand traveling a bit low to my butt. I didn’t have much time to think about it because his golden wings opened up and pushed us upwards. The wind from the angel’s wings swept my hair and I couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Even on a bright sunny day on Earth that sky couldn’t compare to Heaven’s. The blue of the sky was a bright baby blue and the clouds were the purest of white. I reached out a hand and laughed at how light the cloud felt passing through my fingers. “Beautiful isn’t it,” Adam questioned.

“It’s better than I could have ever imagined!”

“This isn’t even the best part.”

I focused my gaze ahead of us and my eyes widened. I could see a patch of clouds with bright pastel colored buildings, almost too bright to stare at. We landed on said patch and the mist surrounding the area brushed away, bowing to the First Man. Adam set me down and I was hesitant to place my full weight down. The cloud itself was soft and yet I didn’t fall through. Casting my eyes up, I saw a golden fence stretching a long distance that I couldn’t even begin to see the end of. In the middle was a set of golden doors creating a gate, pearls and diamonds adorning the bars. I gasped as I realized these were the Pearly Gates that people claimed to see as they passed on. As soon as it clicked, a short, blonde haired man with lightly saturated clothes and white wings appeared behind a podium. He flashed a smile with his pearly whites and beckoned us over. “Hiya! Welcome to Heaven! Can I get your name please?”

“Oh, um, Y/n L/n.”

He flipped to the appropriate page in his large book and when he found it he used his index finger to skim through all the names. He muttered under his breath as he searched, his eyebrows wrinkling after a few seconds. “Um, I’m not seeing you on my list. Perhaps you’re in the wrong place-”

“She’s with me, pretty boy.”

Adam crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “I told you not to call me that. It’s Saint Peter. Besides, she has to be on my list if she’s passed on. She’s dead, right?”

“No, but-”

“Adam, you can’t just bring living people here! It’s against the rules! Oh my goodness, what if He finds out-”

“He won’t! Now let us in, jackass!”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I will not get in trouble again for your shenanigans!”

“You listen here-”

“What is going on here?”

All of us looked up to see two females flying down towards us. The one on the left was much taller than the one on the right. Both had gray dresses with purple and white accents. They landed in front of us and I could see them clearly. The one on the left appeared to be an adult woman with dark grayish brown skin. She had gray scaleras with white irises, long winged eyelashes and white freckles below her eyes. Her gray hair was long and was twisted into thick curls. A glowing white crown with blue jewels floated above her head as her black lips set in a frown. The one on the right looked like a child, her skin a lighter grayish brown tone. She too had white freckles under her blue eyes, the irises being an ombre of purple. Her light purple hair reached the hem of her dress and her black lips formed a pout. Both of their six white wings relaxed at their sides. “Sera, tell this dickhead to let us in! He has no right to keep us out here!”

“Sera, he brought in a human! One that has not yet passed on!”

The taller woman, Sera I assumed, raised her hand. “Enough. Let the girl speak on her own terms.”

Everyone turned their gaze towards me and I could feel my stomach twist in knots. My fingers fiddled with the fabric of my nightgown and I found my eyes were more interested in my bare feet. “Um, I’m Y-Y/n. I lived on Earth but Lucifer kidnapped me. He wants me to be his bride.”

I glanced back up at Sera and a shocked expression graced her features. In a second she flipped back to a more relaxed face, her black lips smiling at me. “My child, you have had quite the journey. Come.”

She moved to the side and gestured her hand towards the gate. I looked at Adam and he pushed me forward. “But, Sera-”

“It’s alright, Saint Peter. This is the one exception I will make.”

“Alright.”

He waved his hand and the gate opened, sunlight streaming through. I took a few hesitant steps forward and the four angels followed behind me. The buildings that I saw before glowed in the sunlight and the golden paved road appeared like marble. The two females stepped in front of me, calm smiles on their faces. “How rude of us to not introduce ourselves. I am Sera, the high Seraphim.” 

She bowed her head as the child-like angel giggled. She bounced in front of me and was quick to take my hand, shaking it ferociously. “I’m Emily, the other Seraphim! But you can call me Emmy, Em, E, whatever. Welcome to Heaven!”

I smiled and pulled my hand away from her light grip. “Thank you. It feels so surreal being here honestly. I didn’t picture Heaven to look like this.”

“We are quite the close knit community. Everyone is friendly, polite and the nicest of the nice. We pride ourselves on being the best and most innocent of creatures,” Sera said. 

“Oh you’re going to like it here, Y/n! We’ve got the most delicious food you’ll ever taste and the beds are like you’re sleeping on a cloud, they’re so soft! You can indulge in any hobby you like and we even have ice cream with rainbow sprinkles!”

I chuckled at Emily’s enthusiasm. “Sounds like fun. Where might I be staying, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You’ll be with me, toots. I have several bedrooms in my bachelor pad.”

Adam wrapped an arm around my shoulder. His fingers played with the strap to my nightgown and I felt a pit in my stomach as he slid it down my shoulder. His black fingers caressed the skin and I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine. I didn’t know what was worse: Lucifer’s gentle touch or Adam’s commanding one. “How about we get you something new to wear. Lute, take Y/n and get her some new clothes. While I enjoy seeing those pretty shins of yours Y/n, I prefer to see them just for myself.”

His fingers slightly dug into my shoulder and I gulped. Was he being possessive or was it just my imagination from being around Lucifer? Lute signaled for me to follow her and as we walked the golden road I wondered if I truly was in a better place. I thought back to Earth and how I longed to be there with S/o. I wondered if he was looking for me or if somehow the Devil made him forget all about me. I held onto the hope that he was searching everywhere, calling everyone he knew and scouring every town in our state. “Hey, pay attention! We’re here.”

“Sorry.”

I hadn’t noticed Lute had opened a wooden oak door and was pointing at it. I walked in and she shut it behind us. I looked around the room as she rummaged through a closet. The purple floor was made to look like tiled marble and the light blue walls were a pastel version of the sky. The bed itself was King size and had purple sheets and blankets to match. A white knit duvet laid over top and the whole thing looked so soft. A nightstand with a purple based lamp stood on either side of the oak headboard, a wooden oak desk stood under a stained glass window, a purple wooden dresser stood next to the door, and the purple closet was next to another wooden door. Lute walked over and threw a pile of clothes at my chest. I looked up at her and could feel the anger behind her mask. “This will be your room. Bathroom is behind that door. Change and roam around as you like. Just don’t disturb Adam or myself. We’re busy people, got it?”

I blinked in shock at her tone. Why was she so displeased with me? It was Adam’s idea to bring me here. When I didn’t answer, she grabbed me by the hair and pulled. I shrieked as searing pain tugged at my scalp. “I said, got it?”

It sounded like she was gritting her teeth. I nodded my head rapidly. “Yes, yes! I got it!”

As she let go, she pushed me and I landed on the edge of the bed. “Just because you're in Heaven doesn’t mean you’ll get Heavenly treatment. You’re only here because Adam said so. If it was my choice, you would still be rotting in Hell being Lucifer’s bitch.”

She scoffed and turned, her heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor. I sat in disbelief even as the door slammed behind Lute. Clearly she despised me. The question was why. It took me a few minutes to get over the awkward exchange, finally looking down at the pile of clothes. Lute had chosen a boring arrangement: a white tank top, a golden jacket that was just the neck, shoulders and puffy sleeves, dark purple puffy harem pants, and black gladiator sandals. While I matched Adam's color scheme, Lute made it so I didn't stand out. I sighed and walked to the other wooden door. Opening it, it did house a bathroom like she said. I stepped in and locked the door behind me. Sure, everyone is supposed to be friendly, but with the way Adam made me feel uncomfortable I was not risking my safety. The bathroom held a toilet, shower, and a white marble counter with a sink. Silently I stripped down and put on the angelic garments. I had to admit while the clothes Lucifer gave me were soft, these felt, well, heavenly. I looked at myself in the mirror above the counter. I looked so pale from receiving no sun down in Hell and my eyebags matched the purple of my pants. I sighed and turned the faucet onto cold water. The frigidness felt nice against my fingertips as I tested the temperature. Satisfied, I splashed water onto my face and rubbed it in thoroughly. I breathed in deep and looked at myself in the mirror once more. My cheeks felt a bit warm from the cool contact, but I felt a bit better nonetheless. Drying my hands on a towel hanging on a metal bar behind me, I unlocked the bathroom door and headed back into the bedroom. As I was trying to figure out where I was going to explore first, I heard two voices. Curious, I stepped to my bedroom door and opened it slowly. Nobody was in the hallway, but I could hear the muffled conversation taking place next to me. Hesitantly, I walked into the hall and to the golden door next to mine. I put my ear up close to the wood. I couldn’t tell exactly who was talking to one another, but from what I knew it sounded like Adam and Sera. “-can’t believe you would bring her here, Adam! Do you know how dangerous your actions are?!”

“Chill out, drama queen. Nothing is going to fucking happen, okay.”

“You don’t know what Lucifer is capable of.”

“The motherfucker hides during the exterminations. You really think he’d try and come up here?”

“Yes! When Lucifer desires something he won’t stop till it’s in his grasp. I fear he will make quite the grand entrance to come and retrieve his beloved.”

“Oh please. Even if he does come, I’ll have her wrapped around my finger to the point she’ll obey my every order.”

My eyebrows scrunched together. I could only assume they were talking about me. But why would Adam want me to comply with him? It’s not like I found him attractive or was even remotely interested in him. My ears caught onto light footsteps headed for the door, so I quickly rushed around a corner. I watched as Sera entered the hall, a look of disappointment gracing her features. She sighed and floated the opposite direction of me, Adam soon following after. I let my hands slip down to my sides and decided to take a walk to mull over the whole situation.

I didn’t really pay attention to where I was going, just focusing on my feet lifting up and down as I walked. It wasn’t till I heard ocean waves that made me stop. I looked to my left to see a gorgeous beach sitting in the distance. How odd.

I felt myself drawn to the calming sound of the tide seeping in and out as I made my way over. The wooden steps below my feet squeaked a bit and soon the white sand seeped around my sandals. I stopped at the water’s edge and closed my eyes. The breeze off the sea brushed against my flesh, the warmth feeling like a hug from a loved one. The smell of the salt reminded me of when S/o and I traveled a few towns over from ours to visit an aquarium. The animals were held in their natural waters behind glass panes, but the smell of rich salt permeated the air wherever you went. “Enjoying your freedom?”

My eyes shot open and I spun around. Laying on a long white beach chair was a taller woman. Her long blonde hair blew a bit in the breeze and caressed the top of the sand. She wore a dark purple sun hat with a lighter purple band, a dark purple bikini set, and purple rimmed sunglasses. Even though I couldn’t see her eyes, her aura wasn’t threatening. “W-what did you say?”

“I said enjoying your freedom, dearie?”

“Um, I guess. I mean I just got here so I wouldn’t know-”

“Come closer.”

I was taken aback by her tone. Though she was in a relaxed position, her voice was commanding, authoritative. I gulped and did as she requested. I stopped by her bare feet and could feel her eyes scanning me up and down. She hummed and her lips twitched into a small smile. “So you’re the one Lucifer is obsessed with now. I’ll admit I can see why. A pretty thing like you probably reminds him of the swans he would keep in gilded cages. While they weren’t ducks per say he found their beauty and grace appealing.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up at her compliment. “T-thank you?”

She chuckled and leaned back, soaking up the sun. “Your wedding will be the talk of Hell for quite a few months, I reckon. It’s not often that the King lends out his heart. You must be very special to him.”

“I found him as a snake. He was wounded and I patched him up. God, if only I hadn’t touched him I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

The woman scooted her feet over and patted the empty space on her chair. I sat sideways so I was able to glance at her. “So he took the form of a snake, eh? He hasn’t done that since he offered the apple to Eve. I always did find it interesting how slippery he could be, even when not in his snake form.”

“He’s so clingy. I hardly have any time to myself, he is always by my side. His claws touch me tenderly and when I look into his eyes all I can see is adoration. It’s disturbing.”

“Possessive as always. Perhaps your presence eases his depression.” 

“I guess. I just don’t understand why he can’t get it through his head that I don’t want to be with him.”

“It’s called ego, darling. His pride gets the better of him. It doesn’t help that he’s the sin of it either.”

I brought my hand up to sit in my lap and found myself fidgeting with the finger my engagement ring had been on. “Apparently he’s so in love with me that he forgets he was married before. I realize his wife, Lilith I think her name was, left him seven years ago but he acts like I’m his first love.”

The woman was silent for a moment, the calm of the tide being the only sound between us. “Sounds like he’s just trying to find someone who makes him happy.”

“Yes, but at the expense of my own happiness.”

The woman opened her mouth to say something, but a familiar voice made us both look up at the wooden stairs. Emily stood waving her arm, a giant smile on her face. “Adam said you’d be out wandering so I thought I’d catch up and show you the ropes!”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Come on! I have so much stuff to show you!”

I chuckled and stood up from the chair. Just as I started to walk away, the woman’s hand clung to my wrist. Her grip was firm but gentle, making me turn back towards her. With her free hand she slid her sunglasses down her nose just enough to see her eyes. My eyes widened to see her light purple irises gleaming at me. “Please take care of him for me, Y/n. I can tell he truly loves and adores you.”

She raised my hand to her lips and left a light kiss on my knuckles. “Y/n, come on!”

The woman let me slip my hand from her grasp and as I slowly walked away she pushed her sunglasses back up. I was dazed as I reached Emily on the stairs, still reeling from what the woman had said. “Oh I’m so excited to show you everything! I think I’ll take you to the park first, ooo! Or I could take you to the zoo! We’ve got all of the animals Noah had on the Ark and more!”

I didn’t say anything as she grabbed my hand and pulled me away. Before we got too far I looked back at the woman, her hair blowing in the breeze.

I didn’t really pay much attention to what Emily was showing me or what she was saying. I was too focused on my conversation with the woman on the beach. Her eyes felt so familiar to me and yet I couldn’t place where I had seen them before. “/n? Y/n? Are you listening?”

I shook my head to see the young Seraphim looking at me concerned. “Huh?”

“I asked what you thought of the sunset. Isn’t it pretty?”

I followed her arm to see her pointing ahead of us. The clouds around us had turned pink, orange and light purple while the Sun had been cast to be a golden orange. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.”

Emily placed a hand on my shoulder, her thumb rubbing light circles. While the offer was tempting I didn’t know if I should tell her anything. I mean what did she know about Lucifer? Would she understand how the woman and I had connected while talking of the Devil? I looked over at her and could feel a wave of calm hit. Emily had this aura of trust and care surrounding her; her eyes sparkled and a friendly smile was placed on her black lips. I let out a sigh. “The woman I was with on the beach. Who is she?”

The angel looked puzzled, holding her chin in between her index finger and thumb. “I’m not entirely sure. She just showed up one day with Adam and Lute. I tried to talk to her but she brushed me off. Come to think of it, she only really talks to Adam. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that she knew about Lucifer and I are to be wed soon. She also had information that isn’t known to the general public.”

“Maybe she heard it somewhere? I’ve heard Sera talk about Down Below every once in a while.”

“No, she knew too many details to have heard it in passing. Besides, she told me to take care of him, almost like she knew him personally. It was like she was giving me her blessing.”

“How mysterious.”

The two of us stood watching the sky slowly paint itself to night. It was refreshing to see something that S/o and I would watch any chance we got. “Y/n, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What’s it like on Earth?”

I blinked a few times, stunned by her question. “You’ve never been?”

“No. I was created way after Lucifer fell. My only purpose is to make the winners happy and enjoy their eternal life here in Heaven. Sera doesn’t view my position as something needed in everyday human life.”

I hummed and stared at the night sky. A shooting star passed by and I smiled in wonder. “I find it to be a lovely place. The town I live in is a nice community. Everyone knows their neighbors and it was the kind of place where if someone had a barbeque, everyone in the neighborhood was invited. I live by myself in a small house. It was kind of like an apartment but with no roommates. I even have my own little garden out back. It is my pride and joy.”

“That sounds amazing. Do you have any significant others?”

“I do. His name is S/o and he’s my world. Before I was kidnapped we didn’t have much time to spend with one another due to our work schedules. But when we were together, my god those were the best times. He made me feel like the most special girl in the universe.”

I smiled upon remembering my dear boyfriend. The memories of us on dates or him telling a stupid joke that I’d laugh way too hard at flooded my head. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I choked back a sob and tried to focus on the stars. I didn’t want to become a crying mess in front of Emily. “Hiya, toots~”

The young angel and I turned to see the First Man standing behind us, his arms crossed in front of him. “It’s getting late, babe. Hows about you and I get to bed, hm?”

I looked at Emily, who gave me a curt nod. “I suppose.”

I walked up to him, only for him to snuggle me up to his side. “Thanks for watching her, Em! Go get yourself an ice cream or some shit.”

Before I could even say goodbye, Adam was dragging me back to my bedroom. He threw open the door and lightly pushed me inside. I stumbled and turned to look at him. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, and I mean anything, give me a holler. I’m right next door. Night, babe!”

He threw up a rock symbol on his right hand before slamming the door shut. What is with angels and slamming doors?

I shook my head and went to the closet. I looked in disgust at the pajama choice: a light pink babydoll nightgown with ruffles around the chest area and hem. I searched to see if there were any other options. Unfortunately, there were none. I headed to the bathroom with my pj’s and locked the door behind me. Stripping down, I slid on the nightdress. Looking in the mirror, I cringed at how short it was. I tried to pull the hem down but it stayed around my upper thigh. Growling in frustration, I unlocked the door and headed to the bed. I flipped back the covers and climbed in. I shifted around a bit to try and get comfortable. Even though the mattress was like a cloud, I preferred my bed back home. There I could have S/o’s arms wrapped around me as we cuddled. My homemade quilt and weighted blanket would keep us warm in the Queen sized bed. I could feel the tears from earlier gather in my eyes and slide down onto the pillowcase. I wrapped my arms around my midsection and curled into a ball. I ended up crying myself to sleep.

Over the next few days I found myself next to Adam’s side nearly all the time. The only time I was separated was when I was in the bathroom or when I was sleeping. Even being in the supposed happiest place for death I found myself very uncomfortable. Adam constantly had his hands on me: playing with the straps of my tops, smacking my butt, massaging my shoulders and hips, and his fingertips “accidentally” scraping my boobs. It didn’t help that Lute would constantly glare at me and her face would be pulled into a snarl. I suppose she thought I was disobeying her order to stay away from her master. 

I thought about my interactions with the two as I pulled back the covers, getting ready to go to bed. A knock on my door made me pause. It was pretty late so I was confused as to who could be there. “Come in.”

The door slowly opened to reveal Adam. I gagged at how strong his cologne was as I could smell it all the way to where I was. “Um, hey Adam. What can I do for you?”

His footsteps sounded heavy on the tiled floor and the door shutting behind him felt like a blade stabbing into my heart. He lifted his hand and my breath caught in my throat when I heard the lock. I backed up but I felt the bed behind my knees. The First Man stopped right in front of me and allowed his lips to quirk into a deep grin. His hands came up and started to slide the nightgown straps down. Disgusted, I slapped his hands away and went to shove him. As my hands pushed on him, he was quick to grab my wrists and hold them to his chest. “You look so hot, babe. I was right to pick out this pj set. You fill it out perfectly.”

“Let go of me!”

I struggled to pull my hands away but his grip didn’t falter. “Adam, let go! Y-you’re scaring me!”

“Just go with the flow, sweetie. Can’t you see this was meant to be?”

He pushed me onto the bed and before I could get up he pounced on top of me. I was about to hit him but he pinned my wrists on either side of my head. He leaned down and began to kiss my neck. His lips were sloppy and he brought his tongue to lick against my vein. “I’m going to make you forget all about that fucking Morningstar. All that you’re going to have on your mind is the original Dickmaster.”

As he brought his lips down to kiss mine, I let out a growl and threw my leg upwards. I heard him let out a cry of pain before he fell onto the floor clutching his privates. “My balls! My fucking balls! God dammit, Y/n!”

With fear guiding me, I stumbled to the door and fumbled with the lock. “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

My fingers shook as I heard Adam rise, a groan leaving his lips. “I was going to play nice, toots. I really was. But it seems you want to play hard to get!”

I heard the lock click and I quickly threw the door open. I sprinted down the hall as I heard Adam yell after me. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I ran faster than I ever had. My escape was futile though as I slammed into a muscular body. I looked up to see Lute, her mask off to reveal a white bob and yellow eyes. I was frozen as I heard Adam huffing behind us. “Good job catching her, Lute!”

“What would you like me to do with the bitch?”

“Lock her in a cell.”

“Anything else?”

“Hit her or something for kicking my balls. That shit hurt.”

“Of course, sir.”

I cried out as Lute grabbed my hair and pulled me down the hall. I tried to pull her hand off but she just tightened her hold. With the pace we were going, the two of us ended up at a dark wooden door. Lute opened it and walked me to the middle of the dimly lit room. She opened the black metal door to the cell and threw me inside. I groaned as I felt my knee scrape against the cold cobblestone floor. I looked up at the angel who sent daggers into my soul with her gaze. “I told Adam you were trouble, but he insisted we bring you here. And after all the hospitality he showed you…you go back on his trust.”

“By hospitality do you mean perverted-” I growled out.

Lute brought her leg up and kicked my cheek. I landed harshly on my side and spit out some blood that oozed from my teeth. “Don’t speak of him like that.”

“Why? It’s not like he’s a saint!”

She growled and drove her foot into my stomach. I howled as sharp pain blossomed. “He’s better than you could ever be! I mean look at you. While he’s up here in Heaven you’re Down Below sucking Lucifer’s cock.”

Her foot hit my stomach again and I could feel bile rise in my throat. “How does it feel to know you’ll never achieve anything? Your legacy will be known as the Devil’s little whore and that’s all you're good for.”

I gave her a smirk before I coughed. “At least I probably give better head than you.”

Her eyes widened before they returned to slits. With her teeth clenched, she brought her right fist into my mouth. I felt my bottom lip split as some blood came shooting out. “Oh, triggered are we? Is this because you have pent up sexual frustration for your leader? Is that some kind of kink you’re into: master and servant?”

“Shut the hell up!”

Grabbing my hair, she slammed my head into the stone floor with a warrior cry. My vision blurred and the room felt like it was spinning. With her hand still tangled in my locks, Lute brought my head up and down several times to meet the floor. My cheekbone felt like it was on fire and I figured the bone was probably shattered with the force of me hitting the ground. “Think you’re tough shit, huh? I can tell you’re just a scared little girl. You were never meant for Heaven, even if you weren’t branded as Lucifer’s slut.”

I could feel my anger boiling. How dare she call me such vile names. “You think I chose this life? Hell no! I was fine being on Earth with my boyfriend!”

“Yeah right. You probably summoned that dirty retch. Why’d you do it? Did you want fame? Money? The glory of saying you fucked the King of Hell?”

“I didn’t do any of that shit! If I had it my way I would have never helped that stupid snake in my garden! Then maybe I wouldn’t be forced to be a bride against my will! Or better yet, then maybe I wouldn’t have met you or your motherfucking boss!”

She yelled in fury and brought her foot up to meet my chest. I landed on my back and the air left my lungs. I heaved in oxygen as she kept kicking me. I swear I heard ribs cracking under pressure. Lute didn’t stop there. She slammed her gray heeled boot onto my fingers and I couldn’t help but let out a scream. “That’s it! Scream, little girl! Pray that your hellish Daddy comes to save you!”

“S-shut up!”

I felt whiplash as her foot dug into my cheek, blood spilling down my bruised lips. “You know what we consider people like you? Fallen. Maybe I should cut your wings like we do all the others?”

“N-no!”

She roughly turned me over so that my back was facing her. I attempted to stand when I heard the sound of fabric ripping and cool air hitting my back. Lute however stomped me into the ground, her heel digging into my flesh. I heard her sword being unsheathed and saw its angelic light bounce off the cell wall. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything I said! Lute, p-please!”

She let out a cruel laugh and I yelped at her heel digging in further. “You’re pathetic, you know that? If you were half the woman that Adam claimed you to be, you wouldn’t go back on your word. Some advice for you, sweetie. If you say a threat, really mean it.”

I screamed as her sword pierced into the left side of my back. There had to be some kind of special angelic powers attached because this hurt way worse than when I would accidentally slice my finger while cooking. Lute reveled in my cries as she dragged the blade around forming some shape. Tears fell rapidly from my eyes as I slammed my fist down into the cold floor, trying to focus on something other than the pain radiating in my back. I was relieved when I felt the weapon retract, but the relief was short lived. A blood curdling shriek ripped through my throat as the sword entered the right side and began drawing a similar shape to its predecessor. Lute seemed to take her time, enjoying my wails bouncing off the walls. She harshly pulled the sword out and resheathed it. “While I would love to carry on my tradition of licking the blood of my enemies off my blade, I don’t want to taint my Holy body with your sin.”

“W-what did you d-do,” I stuttered under my breath.

I could sense a smirk gracing her features as she rounded in front of me. Reaching under my armpits, she hoisted me up and threw me against the wall. I cried out as the rough stone dug into my newly acquired wounds. “I just cut the wings off the fallen, dare I say, angel. Oh who am I kidding? You’re no angel. You’re not even as worthy as the dirt beneath my feet.”

“F-fuck you.”

I grit my teeth as she harshly gripped my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. “What did I say about empty threats, sweetie? Or do I need to remind you?”

I shook my head as a dangerous smile overtook her face. “No, I think you need the reminder.”

Her hand moved to my throat and she made sure to drag my back up the wall as she let me hang. I weakly kicked my legs as I tried to get her to release me. I could feel my body shutting down as Lute squeezed. I was pretty sure I’d have bruises where her fingers lay. My hands started to slide off of hers as my vision began to get a black haze around the edges. “What is going on here?”

Lute let go of me in her haste and my butt collided hard with the ground. I couldn’t see who had entered as I heaved in deep breaths. “Miss Emily, what are you doing up? It’s late. You should get to bed. Here, let me escort you.”

“What were you doing, Lute?”

“Oh, um, I was taking care of a prisoner.”

I could see a familiar head peek around my attacker’s body, a gasp leaving the young Seraphim’s lips. “Oh my goodness! Y/n!”

Emily rushed past and cradled me in her arms, her hand gently rubbing my bruised cheek. “What have you done?! Y/n didn’t do anything to you!”

“On the contrary Miss Emily, Y/n here has committed a major sin. She rejected the orders of the First Man and I was told to punish her in any way I saw fit.”

“I rejected him because he wanted sex. You left that part out,” I hissed, my throat raw from screaming. 

Lute bit her lip and I could see she was dying to cuss me out. “I could forgive Adam’s behavior up until now, but this, this is unforgivable! I need to talk to Sera about this. Violence isn’t the answer and neither is attacking innocent people!”

I could see a shadow cast over the white haired angel’s face and her hand reached for her sword. “There’s no need to discuss this with Sera.”

My eyes widened as her sword was unsheathed next to her side. Emily must have sensed something was off as well because her arms trembled around me. “Lute, w-what are you doing? Put your sword away n-now!”

“I can’t risk you running and tattling to Sera. Who knows what she’ll do to us. Adam and I belong here in Heaven! We’re doing good in God’s name! We will not be cast Down Below!”

She raised the blade and brought it down quickly towards Emily’s head. She screamed and with a newly found inner strength I forced myself up. I let out a warrior cry as I brought my arm up to protect my face, the sharp weapon making contact with my left shoulder. I heard fabric ripping and a glass shattering shriek from the young Seraphim. Glancing down I saw my arm was missing, it lying discarded on the dungeon floor. I let out a shaky gasp and stumbled into the wall. “Y/N!”

I went to go to Emily’s side but Lute stabbed her sword into my right shoulder, effectively pinning me to the wall. I screeched and realized there was nothing I could do. I helplessly watched as the evil angel went for the younger girl’s throat. However, a punch to her face made her drop Emily. She grunted as her head smacked the wall next to me and her body slid down to the floor. I looked towards our savior and felt the color drain from my face. There stood Lucifer, six red and white wings displayed behind him. His eyes were completely red as tall, curvy, red horns grew from his forehead. A flame hovered between them and the snake that usually rested on his hat was now wrapped around the tip of his horns. From this distance it looked like his sharp teeth had grown longer, his canines more prevalent. Lute grunted as she sat up holding her cheek, golden blood trickling from a cut. “You BASTARD! You can’t hurt an angel on Holy ground!”

“The rules don’t apply to FUCKING SCUM LIKE YOU! How DARE you lay your filthy hands on MY BRIDE!”

He rushed forwards and sent a hard punch to her gut. Lute let out a cry of pain before Lucifer grabbed her by the feathers around her throat. Her muscular legs kicked violently, her white gloved hands digging into black hands. I could hear the crunch of her neck bones breaking, golden blood flying out her mouth onto the Devil’s claws. “I can think of so many ways I can torture you with. What should I start with first, hm? I could pluck those white and black feathers from your wings and have them decorate a cape for my darling; Or I could have my snakes bite you all over your body as you screamed and writhed in agony. Oh yes, their venom would enter your bloodstream and there would be nothing you could do as it slowly overtook you, boiling your insides to ash; Or I could break each bone in your body beginning with your fingers and leaving your neck. After everything was broken and you felt that pain, I could slowly saw off each limb, starting with the tops of your fingers and going down each joint. I think I would like that! And after every vein, tendon, muscle and bone was cut off your body I could give them to Cannibal Town to feed the residents as a treat from their King. Just before you died, I could cut out your tongue, eyes and ears and give them to Alastor. I don’t know what the Radio Demon would do with them, but I know he’d find a way to make them useful. And as you would crash from blood loss, I would place your head on a spike outside my palace. It would be a reminder to not mess with me or my fucking bride! Oh, I’d have fun torturing your soul as surely Heaven wouldn’t want you as my hellish hands corrupted your purity!”

Lute bared her teeth and her legs started to slow down to a small wiggle. I watched on in horror as he threw her at the wall on the opposite side of the room. As he stomped towards her, Emily ran to my side. She took off the shawl around her shoulders and wrapped it around my left shoulder. She pulled it tight to try and staunch the bleeding. I hissed as the pressure sent shooting pain to my remaining nerves. Lucifer’s black tail flicked up and down, acting like a scorpion's. My pupils shrunk as I watched him wrap his fist around one of Lute’s wings. She scratched at him as he tugged, a scream ripping from her throat. “That! Is for even bringing my dear apple up here!”

He gripped her other wing and tugged, more bloodied feathers in his fist. “That! Is for throwing her around!”

He went back and forth ripping more and more feathers from each wing, a pile growing behind Lucifer as he called out something harmful Lute had done to me. “Get off me, you motherfucker!”

The Devil brought up one of his feet, slamming the heel of his black leather boot into her eye socket. I shrieked as he kept at it, more golden blood dripping down as her face was slowly being caved in. I couldn’t watch this any longer.

“LUCIFER, STOP!”

His foot was in midair as it froze. He looked over his shoulder at me. I scrunched my eyebrows together and let pleas slip past my bruised lips and raw throat. 

“PLEASE, STOP! Just stop! You’ve done enough damage!”

He scowled and brought his foot down, turning to face me completely. White irises surfaced on top of his red scaleras, softening as they stared at me. “Y/n, she could have killed you! By God, your arm has been lobbed off! Why do you plead mercy for a disgusting soul like hers? She and Adam should suffer for what they have done to you!”

“It’s not worth it! Killing her won’t rewind time or heal me. Just, just let her be.”

He sighed and looked down at Lute’s crumpled body. I could hear her labored breathing so I knew she was still alive, just in a fatal condition. He walked over and crouched before me. Those white eyes of his were filled with rage and determination, but not directed towards me. He brought his hands up to my cheeks, tenderly rubbing them with his thumbs. “Okay. But I need to remove this weapon from your shoulder. I’m not going to lie, this’ll hurt like hell. Emily, stabilize her.”

“O-of course.”

The young girl moved her hands from my missing arm to underneath my armpits and Lucifer grabbed the hilt of the sword. “I apologize for the pain this’ll bring, my dear. I’ll go as fast as I can without the risk of damaging your nerves.”

I nodded and with that he pulled. I cried out in pure agony. Emily hushed me in an effort to make me feel better but all I could focus on was the pain. When the sword was fully out of my shoulder, Lucifer patted the top of my head and gave it a gentle kiss. He stood and turned back towards Lute, who had pushed herself up so she was in a sitting position. With the sword by his side, my fiance slowly stalked forward until he stopped in front of the fallen angel. I couldn’t see her due to Lucifer’s wings spread out but maybe he had done that on purpose. “You should thank my dear apple. She has shown you mercy in a time when she shouldn’t be so kind. But her kindness is one of the reasons I fell for her.”

I felt a sudden tension in my body. He had agreed to not do anything so why did I feel so uneasy? Suddenly he thrust forward and from the feminine scream that bounced off the walls I could tell he had stabbed her. “But on the other hand, I’m not so merciful. I am the King of Hell after all. What is it that you angels say about me? That I’m a rotten, purely evil, husk of a man who should have choked on his own apple while a snake hung me from a tree in the Garden of Eden? Well let me live up to my title. Let me show you how rotten and purely evil I can be!”

“Lucifer, no,” I cried.

He pulled the sword out of wherever he had stabbed it and lifted it above his head. He brought it down with a yell of fury and I screamed as golden blood sprayed everywhere. I squirmed as some of it had splattered across the room onto Emily and I. It was warm and sticky against my legs and face. I wondered if Lute was even alive after that blow. “You. Sick. Fuck! You’re a monster, you know that?!”

I was shocked to hear the female sidekick, even if her voice was shaky. “I don’t care! I don’t care what others think of me! The only one I need is Y/n! She’s MY darling! MY little apple! MY light! And no one, not even the fucker up here who calls himself Father, CAN TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!”

My eyes widened and I couldn’t tell if it was Emily or I who was trembling the hardest. 

He was crazy.

Absolutely batshit insane.

I finally realized how deep his obsession for me ran. 

He cackled like a lunatic, throwing his head back. His whole body shook with how hard he was laughing. He brought the angelic weapon up again and swung down-

"LUCIFER!”

All of us froze. There in the doorway stood Sera, a multitude of eyes surrounding her gray curls. Her fists were balled at her sides as she walked in. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Lucifer didn’t even look at her, too focused on his prey in front of him. “I’m acting in self defense. Aren’t I, Emily?”

Sera looked at the two of us and Emily squeaked. “Is this true, Emily?”

“I-I-I-”

“Be truthful, my child. I don’t want you scorned for siding with the embodiment of evil.”

“...He saved us, Sera! Lute, she, she, she was going to kill me! If Mister Morningstar hadn’t stepped in both Y/n and I would be dead!”

The High Seraphim was taken aback, her eyes fading from her hair. “What?”

“Hey, what’s with all the commotion? Some people are trying to sleep-”

My gaze saw Adam walk in behind Sera, his mouth allowing a yawn to pass. The pit in my stomach grew as I feared how he would react when he saw the state of his right hand woman. Sure enough his eyes landed on her and his body tensed. “Holy shit…Lute.”

His hands balled up next to his sides and his eyebrows scrunched over the top of the golden eyes on his mask. “You, motherfucker! You, son of a bitch! You could have killed her-”

A screech ripped my throat as Lucifer whipped around and sliced through Adam’s arm. It flopped to the floor and a chorus of fear filled the air. The First Man was quick to grab his open wound, liquid gold coating his fingers. “What the fuck. What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK! YOU CUT OFF MY ARM, YOU ASSHOLE!”

With Lucifer turned I could see the fire burning in his eyes. He was scaring even Sera, her taking a step back. “What is it they say? An eye for an eye? Well in this case it’s an arm for an arm.”

“YOU, DICKBAG! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”

“Why don’t you ask your little whore when she wakes up? I’m sure she’d love to tell you in great detail while she’s in between your thighs sucking you off about what happened.”

Adam growled and released his shoulder, his bloodied hand pointing at Emily and I. His index finger started to glow with a bright white light and I feared he’d shoot me. With the threat in the air, Lucifer brought the tip of the sword to the masked man’s throat. He pushed it in, not enough to draw blood but enough to make the consequence known. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It. You’re lucky that my dearest told me not to kill anybody. Because believe me, my limit has been passed and I’m hanging by a fucking thread.”

Adam gulped and the blade moved with the bob of his adams apple. I could see fear in the egotistical man’s eyes and even his stance had changed to try and protect himself. “Say, how about I cut off the other hand to join its partner on the floor? I could make them into a pair of cup holders for my beloved and I to use as we sip your thick rich blood from bejeweled goblets.”

“W-why would you want to do that? My blood doesn’t even taste that good!”

“Let’s see, I could name a million reasons. But the first one that comes to mind is to punish you for assaulting my fiance! Did you really think I wouldn’t know about you constantly putting your wretched paws all over her?”

“L-look, you stole two of my wives. I was only returning the favor!”

Lucifer grit his teeth and I swear with how hard he pushed them together they would shatter. The glare that he sent towards Adam was lethal as his eyes turned completely red once more. His black knuckles turned white with how hard he gripped the hilt of the sword. “Those two were just to show how superior I am to you. Y/n is different. She is my true love! She’ll remain by my side for the rest of her eternal life and together we will rule Hell as King and Queen! And if you think you can take that away I’ll cause my own extermination! Any and all winners will be subject to my wrath! They will be slaughtered one by one and their souls forced to burn beneath my hooved feet! I’ll torture every last one of them as I send them to each ring of Hell, the Cardinal Sins and Overlords free to do whatever the fuck they want! UNDERSTOOD?!”

The sword was pushed a bit further into Adam’s neck, a light trail of blood sliding down from the small gash. The tension was so thick that the weapon in Lucifer’s hands wouldn’t be able to cut through it. “Y-you got it, man! Just don’t hurt me!”

The Devil chuckled and pulled away. “Oh, Adam. So above it all until your whole existence is threatened. Then you turn into a pussy and cower away.”

Throwing the sword into Lute’s left wing with a huff, he used his now open hands to conjure a red misty portal. When Lucifer turned to face Emily and I his white irises had returned to his red eyes and a soft smile reached his lips. He walked over, his bloodied boots clicking against the cobblestone. Slowly, as if to not scare me further, he crouched in front of us. His arms reached for me and as he got close Emily hugged me tight to her frame. Tears ran down my cheeks and wet their previously dry tracks. I shook my head and curled my legs into my torso, trying to get as far away from my fiance. “Please don’t hurt her, Mister Morningstar!”

His face dropped and he shook his head side to side. “You honestly think that I’d hurt my darling? I’m hurt, Emily.”

He reached for me again and before the young girl could put up a fight, he wrapped his arms around me. Standing up, he hoisted me bridal style and brought our foreheads together. He closed his eyes and nuzzled me close. A purr rumbled in his throat and he opened his eyes. That frightening look of adoration had returned, his pupils almost looking like little hearts. He gave my forehead a kiss and then turned towards the other angels. “Goodbye, cunts. Hopefully we never see you again.”

His presence commanded the room as he walked us towards the portal, the familiar dark red sky of Hell peeking through. “Let’s go home, my dearest Y/n. We deserve some alone time together.”

A sob wracked my body as he flew forward, the portal closing immediately behind us.

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[prodbyton]

જ⁀➴ dirty little secret chapter 7: bye baby

half smau, half written. wc. under 1k warnings: kissing

even after you and anton wanted more from each other physically after that night in his apartment, your schedules never aligned properly for you two to actually do anything. it left you both hot and bothered, sneaking off during the day to make out and grope each other before you had to part for the day.

like now, you were antons lap in the backseat of his car in the parking lot of your apartment, hands buried in his hair and his hands groping your ass as you two kiss each other like you'll never see each other again.

"yn-" anton breathes out in between your kisses, and you hum before going back to kissing him. "i have to go," his warning words make you stop, frowning against his lips before you pull away with a pout. you were just so cute, he felt bad knowing he had to leave you.

"you cant miss one practice?" you whine, pouting even more.

"im the captain," he almost laughs, if he could he would totally skip a practice to spend more time with you, but his roll was too important and you both knew that.

"don't you have a co captain?"

"yn..." you sigh, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and you understand that he has to go. you climb off of his lap, sitting on the other side of his backseat while you think of another way for you both to see each other.

"what about after practice then? i can sneak you in, i don't think my brother would mind you coming over" you hope that it convinces him, but the way his ears turn red after you say it makes you frown.

he wishes that your brother was one of his biggest obstacles in having you fully, it was too much of a risk for you to sneak him in, it was honestly a risk with him dropping you off at the apartment you shared with him, but he tried his best to not let that flood his nerves.

"i want you just as bad, but i wanna take you out first before we do anything" anton groans, running a hand through his hair. you cant help the smile that creeps on your face, the way he held himself back until you two were actually dating before you two went further made you grow more fond of the boy. but you cant deny that it also made you want him more.

"such a gentleman, and when is this date you speak of?"

"how about friday night? i have early practice, and i can pick you up after" you have to hold back a giggle from how cute he was with that hopeful smile on his face, and you pretend to think for a second before you finally answer him.

"i think i can clear out my schedule for that,"

"great," he leans over the empty space between you two so he can place a quick kiss to your lips "now i really have to go, okay?"

"fine," you roll your eyes, doing your fake pout once again as anton gets out of the car so he can open your door for you. once you're out of the car, you let anton engulf you in a tight hug. "you'll call me when you get home, right?" you murmur into his chest, and he presses his lips to your forehead while you two enjoy your last few minutes together for the day.

"of course, i'll call you baby"

"baby?" you pull back from him, blinking in surprise at the new name as you look up at him. he just smiles, a little nervous as he tries to gauge your reaction.

"do you like it?" you nod, bringing your hands up to the back of antons neck so you can pull him in for another kiss. it was softer, holding him close to you before you pull away, and you smirk when you hear him fail at holding back a whimper at the loss of contact.

"mhm, now go, don't be late for practice baby" you smile as you walk away, letting your hand drag along his chest as you leave and all anton can do is stare at you as you enter your building. it took everything in him to not forget about practice and go after you in that moment.

m.list | prev | next

a/n: bro tumblr actually stupid asf i had to rewrite half of this cuz it deleted my mf draft...

synopsis: living with your older brother had its perks, including easy access to his hot best friend

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[innorogers]

Reverie

Steve Rogers x Reader (You)

Summary: Steve doesn't care about you past, but he is hesitating if he should take things further. Until he saw that punk trying to make a move on you...wait, did he say his name is Walker? John Fucking Walker?!

Warning: Minors DNI / Minors DNI / First Time / First Date / Fluff? / Smut / Unprotected Sex /

Characters: Natasha, Tony, OCs, John Walker, Timeline is after Endgame and everyone is happy and alive.

Also: You don't have to read the previous two chapters, but it would enhance the experience if you did. And thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️

Chapter 1: Insomnia | Chapter 2: Lucid

"We'd better get going…" you panted between breaths, your words more moans and whispers than actual sentences. As his lips moved further into your skin, the glasses of the windows grow foggier and steamed.

"...I know... we should," he replied, marking your collarbone with his voice hoarse and raspy. One hand pressed against your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his hip, while the other tangled in your hair. "I just don’t think I can…" he muttered, kissing your breast and leaving love marks, sucking and soothing them.

Me neither. You thought to yourself while grabbing his head to pull him closer. And I don't want to.

But the car horns honked twice outside the building, jolting Steve to a halt.

"Shit, I don’t think we’re getting away with this..." he sighs, breathing heavily as he rested his head on your shoulder, trying to calm his body. It was hard, though, especially with you looking the way you did—hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, forehead damp, and lips swollen. Goddamn, you are sexy as fuck. Your shirt was half-torn, shoulders marked with bites, and you were panting in a way that drove him wild.

"We need to..." He tried to button up your shirt but sighed and gave up. Honestly, he wanted to do the opposite.

You laughed, fixing his messy hair. Jumping off the desk, helped straighten his collar. "There." You smiled up at him as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "As much as I want to stay, we’d better hurry."

"I know, I know..." Steve grumbled as the car honked again. "Do you need to change?" he asked, adjusting his shirt and glancing at the waiting car.

"Nope, thank goodness for this," you said, grabbing your lab coat. "Or it would be too obvious." You covered yourself and smoothed out your clothes.

"Too obvious of what?" he teased. "You think they’ll suspect something?"

"Well... no." You quickly got ready and helped him by tugging the back of his shirt. "I doubt anyone expects us to show up together—they’ll just think it’s a coincidence."

"Tony knows. That’s why he sent the damn car." Steve scoffed, taking your hand as he led you outside, opening the door for you.

"In his defense, this meeting was set two weeks ago." You smiled, taking his hand once seated, fingers intertwined as you sighed contentedly. "I just forgot because I was... very distracted."

The car began moving, thankfully driverless and on autopilot, giving Steve the chance to take your hand again. The cool AC calmed both of you, letting you think more clearly. You tried to focus on the upcoming meeting, but it was impossible when he started kissing your fingers.

"He wants us to concentrate and send a car with no driver?" Steve grinned as the campus blurred by. “He is challenging my imagination.”

"Maybe no one wants to see what’s happening here," you whispered in his ear, as if anyone could hear. "Or we'd have to kill them afterward."

He laughed, finally relaxing, just holding your hand and gazing out the window.

You tried too, looking at the passing green grass and buildings, but your eyes kept drifting to him. And your mind is going wild. 

OMG what you’ve done, and what's happening here.

You and Steve had only met two days ago on the training field at midnight. Both of you were suffering from insomnia, and what began as a friendly, slightly naïve conversation to help each other sleep turned into the best night of your lives. 

And now... this.

Well, you weren’t sure what "this" was. 

After that night, he walked you to your room, kissed you goodnight, and probably went straight to read your file. 

Then, the next thing you knew, he showed up at your secluded lab and kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

Until your boss/friend Mr. Stark interrupted you from heading a home run all the way, by calling to remind you there were cameras everywhere and that PG-18 scenes should be saved for after hours or, better yet, off-campus. 

He also kindly reminded you that the meeting both of you were expected was in 20 minutes. And just in case you "got carried away and lost track of time," his words, he sent the car.

After a few seconds of silence, as you try to make sense of things, Steve suddenly realizes: "I don’t even remember what this meeting is about."

"It’s not a meeting. Technically, it’s a... how’d you call it? Hmm... an opening ceremony?" You repeat the words Tony used when he walked you through it. 

"Important people from important groups are coming to visit around, and to make peace after the Blip. They’re deploying their heavy hitters, so all our level 3s have to be there."

"And you’re... level... 2?" Steve asked, trying to recall. He had read your file but only focused on some key details of your past, not the present.

"I’m a level A," you chuckled at Steve’s 'is that even a thing?' expression and explained, "Just like Peter Parker. I have access to everything, as long as Tony wants me to."

"Oh... and... why do you need to be there?" Steve wanted to know more, but as the car approached the destination, he could see people walking toward the grand hall.

"Well, I’m not expected by the guests, but by Tony. And you know what they say: the most dangerous place is the safest. After all, I’m not exactly on their 'white list'..."

You saw his expression change, and he tightened his grip on your hand. "You shouldn’t be hiding. You didn’t do anything wrong."

"I didn’t?" You looked into his eyes, and he didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t had the time, or the courage, to read your full file. He was just following his instincts about you, his feelings, and his heart.

"But still, I don’t think they’re ready for 'this'." You gestured to your intertwined hands. 

"And this shouldn’t be the topic of today’s conversation. I think this event is more about ‘how we’re friends again with the Avengers’ or ‘world peace is our only priority,’ kinda stuff…"

That made him laugh. He leaned his head back against the seat, muttering softly, "I wouldn’t care if they saw us."

"Eventually." You smiled at him. "And there’s something sexy about keeping it a secret, Captain." You sit in closer. "I like it." You blinked, motioning to the people passing by the car. 

"When they’re out there... and they don’t know... about this." Then you leaned forward to give him a kiss.

Steve’s body tensed at the touch of your lips, so you immediately pulled back, thinking you were pushing too far. 

"Yeah you are right, I’m sorry, they might have seen us..." You nervously glanced outside. "Although these windows..." and before you could finish, he grabbed you by the shoulders and kissed you deeply and fiercely, leaving you breathless.

"You’re right," he whispered, his voice low and ragged, as he bites your lower lip. "It is sexy. I love when you do things like this...it drives me crazy..."

“Oh…” your face was burning: “That’s settled then.” And you see the car is about to enter the parking lot arriving at its destination: “Can we do that again?”

Steve let out a loud chuckle before leaning over and kissed you gently: “Yes ma’am.” 

To be honest, he doesn’t know what he is doing either.

As soon as Steves leaves you – You’ve finally decided to enter the compound separately, but not before he kissed you deep and hard in the elevator – His mind starts to clear. Senses are coming back to him.

As one of the greatest military tacticians in history, Steve acknowledges your past: a Hydra experiment, held captive your entire life until your escape and rescue; he knows you weren’t brainwashed, but borned and raised under Hydra’s control, and yes, he met you just two days ago.

His reasonable mind is making a lot of rational thinking as the military savant he is, and his strategies have always been like complex webs of logic, each thread delicately woven to ensure victory, while his enemies find themselves ensnared before they even realize it.

So yeah, he should be analyzing you, reading your file, investigating your past, predicting your moves—or at the very least, watching you closely to see if any remnants of Hydra remain.

But instead…

He can’t take his eyes off you.

You were steps ahead of him, and he felt like seeing you through those large professional lenses, where all the background is blurred in macro, drawing circles of light, and only your silhouette is sharpened.

You were smiling and nodding to people saying hi to you, a little bit shy, somehow oddly adorable... He was in awe. Some folks saluted you as if with…respect? He observed quietly. He even saw a lab guy saying to his teammate something like 'omg she said hi back to me'.

What's your superpower, Steve wondered. 

He’s sure he never noticed you before (how could he have missed you?), and he's certain you’ve never been on a mission together.

Suddenly, someone with a lab coat runs by your side, all excited as if they've drunk ten coffees in a row. 

"Dr. Lancaster, Dr. Lancaster? I figured it out..." He shows you an iPad, and Steve can see how everyone around you is pretending to be minding their own business but is actually listening to the conversation.

“…If we could modify the energy matrix in the arc reactor, we could potentially bypass the Coulomb barrier altogether…we can be talking about cold fusion without the magnetic confinement…!” The lab guy seems all over the clouds.

“Oh.” You look surprised yet shy, you sweep your hair back: “um…How do you plan on stabilizing the reaction without the electromagnetic field imploding?”

“I knew you’d get it!” The tech was so excited he nearly dropped his glasses: “What if we shift the reactor’s frequency to align with zero-point energy fluctuations?” He was jumping all over the place: “The Casimir effect could, theoretically, counterbalance the repulsion long enough to initiate fusion. No magnetic field required!”

“You wanna um…tapping into the vacuum energy of the quantum field to power the reaction?” You look amazed but concerned: “I mean, sure, theory holds, but the amount of energy you’d need to harness would be… astronomical. How do you prevent runaway entropy?”

“If you can artificially create a gravitational lens, focus the zero-point fluctuations and keep them from destabilizing. That’s how I did it.” A voice chimes in from behind. 

Tony, hands in his fancy suit pockets, shrugs and taps his watch. "Five minutes everyone, or you'll miss the warm-up act."

When everyone hears the big boss, they start walking faster toward the compound. 

Tony glances at you and the lab tech. “Test that theory using vibranium as the containment medium. It can store large amounts of kinetic energy without degrading, so you won’t vaporize this whole place. The first prototype is broken and used, so…we can get another one. And honey…” He turns to you and, with a glance at Steve, sighs in irritation. “Ugh... forget it.”

Tony walks past Steve and whispers as they head inside, "Ten minutes late. That’s a first."

“And worth every second,” Steve replies, giving you a final glance, smiling as he notices your blush.

“So... what’s her talent?” he asks once they’re a bit further away.“Being super smart?” 

It sounded sarcastic but he was super serious. Steve might’ve once thought being smart wasn’t a superpower, but after witnessing what Tony and Bruce can do, he now knows it’s one of the most powerful things of all.

“Yeah ‘smart’ is not even close, ‘brilliant’, or ‘magnificently intelligent’ would be the right words, and also…not that’s that important, but um…” Tony makes that typical ‘not a big deal’ face, trying to play it off.

“She…um…She possesses bio-synthetic ocular emitters that generate and manipulate high-frequency electromagnetic radiation across a variable spectrum, allowing her to penetrate solid matter and perceive stratified atomic structures and molecular compositions in real-time, facilitated by a neuro-integrated quantum processing cortex that reconstructs layered 3D imaging at the subatomic level with unparalleled precision."

Tony winks at Steve. And then rolls his eyes and says: “She’s got some kinda X-ray vision that lets her see the layers and components of things.”

“Couldn’t you just say that…”

They walk past the people and head backstage, where the team and a bunch of other people are waiting. Steve knows they won't be able to continue the conversation due to all the smart chat they'll need to do with these VIPs, so he stops before entering the room.

He needs to ask the most important question.

“Why did you keep her? Nat said you went through hell to keep her out of the feds' reach. Why?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smirk. Oh, Rogers, you’re falling hard, huh? He blinks at Steve. 

“Do you want me to be brutally honest?”

“Don’t I always?”

Iron Man started counting: “First, I genuinely think that someone with those powers would be highly prejudicial and harmful if she is on any side but ours. Second, I like her, well, not in the same way you like 'like' her...…but she is good, she is…” He tries to find a word: “Selfless. That makes me nuts, cause when you have no human ambition, what you gonna do to be a keeper, right?  Aaaand third, she asked. So...”

He shrugged his shoulders and started thinking aloud and spoke quickly as Tony always does. “You know what? This is perfect, yeah, so…I’ve struggled…no, never mind, this is perfect. Yeah ok, we gotta go…” 

He tilts his head toward Pepper, who’s staring at him. “Before I get locked out tonight.”

Steve has a hundred more questions, but when he sees Maria giving him the same look Pepper is giving Tony, along with all those important suits waiting, he gives in. “Yeah... right. The heavy hitters.”

The "heavy hitters" weren’t just important people from important organizations. 

There was the Secretary of Defense, a bunch of senators, generals and colonels from the U.S. Army, the National Security Advisor—whatever the title is—Wakandan generals, CIA directors and their agents, and a whole lot of U.S. soldiers.

Steve was impressed, not by their presence, but because he had completely forgotten this event was on the agenda. And the reason for that? You.

Yeah the whole speeches, panels, interactions were just as you said, about ‘how we’re friends again with the Avengers’ or ‘world peace is our only priority,’ blah blah blah, Steve wasn’t even listening. Who gives a damn.

His thoughts were elsewhere.

He was focused on you, and his mind was a mess.

So you can see through solid objects, huh? Does that work on people too? Do you see him as a walking skeleton? Is your power what makes you so smart, or were you always brilliant and Hydra just added the ability? Are you free tonight? What did you mean when you asked if he “considered taking this thing further”? Further to where? To like a date, or further as…forever?  Is that a love bite on your neck? Did he do that? God, you look stunning with your hair like that...

“If your gaze were a lightsaber, that poor girl would be ashes by now,” Natasha whispered as she leaned over to Steve. “Would you stop? It’s really weird.”

Steve chuckled, trying to put on a serious face, but he couldn’t help himself. He glanced at the speaker on stage, doing his best to focus.

It was a struggle, though. From what he knew about you, you came across as socially naive, unworldly even, with a deep trust in others. He was tempted but didn’t want to do anything that might feel like he was taking advantage of your vulnerability.

But…he’s doing it again, staring at you from afar, you look so adorable, damn it. Your hair is still a little messy, standing in the crowd and biting your thumbnail like a bored student waiting for the bell to ring.

You caught his stare, your eyes flicking up, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at you. He mouthed a ‘I miss you’, and your heart raced so fast you dropped your phone. Someone passing by picked it up for you, and you probably mumbled something like “'ank you” cheeks blazing so red you couldn’t even make eye contact or finish the sentence.

Steve forced himself to look away, but the grin wouldn’t leave his face. His expression must have been strange because even the speaker started to turn red. 

Natasha nudged him with an elbow, and they both smiled at the poor guy, who was now panicking under the combined stares of Captain America and Black Widow.

“Hey…” Steve overheard a voice behind him.

“Do you know who that girl is?” The guy who picked your phone up—some military man—was talking to his teammate, he was several rows behind and talking low but Steve could hear it anyway.

“Who? Where?” his companion asked.

“That one, I just picked up her phone. There…in the second row.”

“Oh! That one? That’s…” The team mate teased: “…someone completely out of your league.”

“Shut up.” The guy chuckled: “I’m gonna give it a try anyway. I’ll ask for her number. Damn that’s the most beautiful girl I’ve seen.”

Ok. Steve clenched his jaw. Fuck chivalry. He was done worrying about your social skills. Maybe it was time to take your advice and take things further. Or he could have Jarvis or Friday change your number...

“I bet you don’t get it.” A third voice joined the conversation. "Hoskins is right, Walker. She’s out of your league."

Did he just said, Walker? Steve’s eyes widened as his fists tightened.

“Yeah John, first round you don’t get it.”

“Well…” John laughs, “Guess you’ll be buying two rounds for me and my date tonight.”

In your fucking dreams, Walker. Stay the fuck away from my girl. Steve pulled out his phone. Not even thinking about how you’d gone from "who is she?" and "what are her powers?" to "my girl."

A message from an unknown sender just popped up on your screen.

"What are you doing tonight?"

You frowned. Who is this?

You usually don't give your number to others. Mainly because you don't actually know your number (you don't have enough social events to bother remembering it). Plus, it’s in the public records for investigation departments, in case someone from work needs it. Cause who else would need it?

You glanced around. A few colleagues were watching you, but none gave any obvious signs of being the sender. 

Just in case, you replied: "Testing in the lab." The task Tony had given you earlier sounded promising, and you’re eager to give it a try.

"Can I join you?" The reply comes almost instantly. Must be Dr. Lin then—it’s his discovery, after all. Makes sense.

"Sure." you reply.

"Anything you’d prefer for dinner?"

Oh. No, wait. Now you're uncertain. When was the last time Dr. Lin had anything but organic food? The guy counts calories in every meal since you’ve known him.

"Who is this?"

Steve let out a loud laugh, and everyone stared at him, especially the speaker on stage, who was in the middle of a serious and tragic speech and was going through the emotional part.

"Stop it." Natasha shook her head, warning him in a whisper while smiling at the speaker. "Just stop it."

Tony rolled his eyes in the front row. Ugh, lovefools.

But Steve couldn’t stop laughing, and he didn’t stop messaging you.

"I’m your date, if you’ll have me."

"Oh. Mike? Sorry, I didn’t have your number."

His laugh stopped.

"Just kidding, Cap. I’ll have whatever you want ;)"

Oh damn, you got him. His heart leaped back into place. Steve looked up and spotted you, blushing as you put your phone away. He felt like giving a big smile but held back—for the poor speaker’s sake, who had already been tortured enough.

"A date it is." he replied. He considered adding an emoji, but nope—he didn’t know how that worked.

So, "whatever you want", huh? What should he bring? Did you mention anything about your preferences the night you met? Italian? Chinese? Thai? Japanese?

"Is there..." he asked Nat, his voice low enough only she could hear, "any good takeout within five minutes?"

Natasha was about to answer when her phone buzzed with a message from Tony: "Tell Rogers to knock it off." 

So they both put on their best serious faces and listened to the rest of the speech. Luckily, it was short, and Steve applauded harder than he should, just to make up for his weird behavior throughout.

"If you go straight to her." Once the whole thing was over, Natasha said softly in a voice only he could hear, "it’ll be too obvious. And Tony and Rhodey will shoot lasers from their eyes to your ass, stay put, this is important."

"I know." Steve smiled, shook hands with some senator, and stuck around for a bit of small talk, though his attention was elsewhere. 

He spotted John Walker approaching you. So moving without drawing attention, Steve shifted the group he was with closer to you.

He hated to admit it, but John Walker? The guy was fine. In that military uniform, with all those badges, he could probably charm any girl—if this wasn’t a hall full of superheroes. Steve listened carefully through the room’s noise, trying to catch your conversation.

Of course, you had no idea.

You didn’t know someone was nearby, standing and staring at you. You were too busy smiling at your phone like an idiot.

"Excuse me. What?" you asked when this guy repeated himself. The hall was full of chatter, so you had to get closer to hear.

"John Walker, ma’am." He flashed a bright smile, but you weren’t looking.

"Oh." You recognized him as the guy who picked up your phone earlier, and a blush crept onto your face as you recalled how clumsy you’d been, dropping your phone because Steve had smiled at you. 

"Oh... yeah, um, I’m Ilithyia, Ilithyia Lancaster. Thank you for that... Captain?" You weren’t sure about his rank, guessing based on the uniform.

"Nice to meet you, Ilithyia, Ilithyia Lancaster." He widened his smile, mistaking your blush for something else, and shook your hand. "Well... since I rescued your phone, any chance I could get your number?"

"Aw!" Steve’s hand suddenly clamped down on some poor guy’s during a handshake. "Quite a grip you’ve got there, Cap."

 "I beg your pardon." Steve forced a smile through clenched teeth, still listening to your conversation.

"Oh..." Now you were blushing for real. "Um..." You were trying to figure out how to get out of this awkward situation. 

Not only because you didn’t know your number, but also because you didn’t want to give it to Captain Walker. 

You thought fast and came up with the first lame excuse that popped into your head.

"I can’t. " 

You look at him with your most innocent and serious face. You sound so sincere and genuine.

"It’s confidential."

Steve let out a burst of laughter. That’s my girl. The senator in front of him—yes, the same one he had been teasing through the whole event—went pale. He was telling another moving story about his experience during the Blip when Captain America giggled. 

Tony threw an arm around Steve’s neck and mumbled in a warning tone: "What. Is. Wrong. With. You?"

"I’m so sorry." Steve hurried after the poor man, trying to keep a straight face. "Come on, Senator Kingsley...I’m sorry…" 

As soon as John Walker’s attention shifted to Steve, you took a step back and mumbled something like, "Um... Nice to meet you, Captain Walker. Gotta go."

"Yeah, what? Yeah, sure..." Walker turned around, but you were long gone before he could come up with a smart reply.

Of course, you had to go—you had a date.

Two hours later, the idea was still circling in your mind. But...

"What am I wearing?" you suddenly blurted out.

"...What?" Dr. Lin looked at you, confused. "Now? A white coat…" 

He was just in a very inspirational speech about the theory of a quantum anchor to handle subatomic fluctuations when you interrupted with that.

You thought for a second, then decided you didn’t give a shit about the possibility of opening a wormhole that could deviate spatial-temporal coordinates or create a cascading paradox that unravels dimensions as you know them. You cared more about the upcoming date.

It was not just a date, it was the date.

So you took a deep breath, looked at your colleague seriously, and said, "I have a date, Dr. Lin. And I don’t know what to wear because I’ve never had one."

"Oh..." Dr. Lin looked you over. "That’s not a surprise, Dr. Lancaster." He whispered something like, "We should have known... you live and breathe only in this lab... just like your plants."

"I don’t have... anything." You spread your hands. "He’s coming to my lab in a few hours... should I...?" burn all my clothes and buy new ones? No way you’d make it in time.

"Well." He gave you a ‘what are you gonna do’ face and circled you. "Mm... not much we can do, actually. Here, lift your hair. No, not all of it, leave some strands. Yes..." He took off your glasses. "Do you have lipstick? No?! You don’t? Girl... GOD. Um... okay."

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a chapstick. "Here. This is cherry. I don’t know... um... oh, and this!" He handed you a bottle. "Put this on."

"What is this?" You opened the tube, sniffing it. "Perfume?"

"Better. This, Dr. Lancaster, is the Felix Felicis of perfumes."

"Like... in Harry Potter?"

"Theoretically, this is a chemical liquid compound that exhibits adaptive olfactory reactivity, dynamically modulating its molecular structure upon detecting neurochemical feedback from the subject's sensory receptors, thereby... transforming into the individual's most psychologically favored aromatic profile." He grinned like a proud scientist.

"So, it’s a magic liquid that becomes your favorite scent when you smell it?"

"Not favorite, Dr. Lancaster. The most arousing smell." Dr. Lin’s eyes lit up as he introduced his invention. 

"Girl, put this on, I guarantee, he’ll be all over you. And call me Robert, I beg you.”

"Is that..." You raised an eyebrow. "Is that even legal?" And this was Steve you were talking about—the guy had senses times four.

"Oh come on, just use one drop." Dr. Lin dabbed a bit on his finger and tapped it on your neck. "There. I don’t think he’ll even notice, but just in case..."

"Oh. Okay." You still didn’t know what to expect.

"Look, I’ll leave you to it then." Dr. Lin—no, Robert—gathered his things. "Enough testing for today. And you’re gonna tell me all about it on Monday, okay? Oh, and Dr. Lancaster..." 

He glanced around your lab. "This is perfect. Private, secluded... just make sure to put away all the explosive liquids you have around... ok? See ya!"

“Oh.” You glance around too. Yeah, that’s a great point, you nod as you wave goodbye to a very excited Dr. Lin, still not having a clue what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what you do best: you work.

You do a little bit of cleaning, organizing; the place looks amazing, at least from your point of view, and since you had time, you start another round of testing.

You don’t even notice when Steve walks in, with the sunset sky behind him and the first stars rising in the north. He’s carrying a basket, and his breath is taken away by the sight of you standing at your workbench, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, turning the whole room into a glowing, serene golden rose.

He stands there for a while, just watching, taking it all in.

“Cap, are you coming in anytime soon?” you ask, adjusting the metal pieces of the robotic arm. 

“I’m really hungry and tired of pretending I’m so cool with robotics here.”

Steve laughs and sets the basket on the table before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your hair. “Hey.”

You inhale deeply, finally letting go of the breath you’d been holding since you heard his footsteps. 

“Well, that’s not gonna do.” You smile and give him a proper kiss on the lips. “Yeah, now I’m recharged.”

Steve grins, holding you tighter as he kisses you back. “Yeah, me too.” He deepens the kiss. “God… you smell so good.”

Oh wow. You open your eyes as you return the kiss. Did Dr. Lin’s magic elixir really work this fast?

Well, then there’s a good chance this could go further, right?

Of course he’s taking it further.

Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him. 

Maybe it’s because he’s been thinking about you all day. Maybe it’s because he was so mad and determined to be with you after that punk tried to make a move on you. Or maybe it’s just you—you have this unknown thing that drives him wild.

It's the way you move, the way you smile or talk or breathe or just… exist, that makes him unreasonably and madly… in love.

You finish dinner (a unanimously voted menu by the whole team—who knew the Avengers were so bored?), and are just starting on the cold white wine when he tries to wipe some ice cream from your lips. The next thing you know… you’re all over the couch.

Well, you started it, you think as he hovers over you. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have bitten his thumb when he was caressing your lips, or maybe you shouldn’t have breathed so heavily while he was kissing you and roaming over your body. Maybe you shouldn’t have whispered his name like that… but oh god, who cares? It feels so good.

“We should…” Stop. Steve tries to pull out his rational side, but his hands are far too busy running down your side, lingering on your hip.

“Go to bed?” You’re panting and shivering, your hands on his neck and his back, trying to pull him closer. “There’s, um… a bedroom right at the back, and… it has a beautiful garden view.” As if that mattered now at all.

Steve lets out a soft chuckle, resting his head on your neck. Then, after a pause, he lifts himself slightly, creating some space between you two.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… there’s no coming back from that. Are you…” He gasps, caressing your face. “And if we don’t do anything, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“And…” You sit up straight, looking at him, intrigued. “How… how do you feel about me?”

“It feels...” He thinks for a moment, intertwining your fingers with his and giving you a soft smile.

“Correct. Right. Complete.” He kisses your fingers, then looks up at you. “You make me feel complete.” He paused: “And you?”

You stay there for a moment in silence, glancing at him.

“Like…”

You try to describe it with nice words but you can’t.

“It's like my heart is so full, I can’t take it anymore…” You inhale as if you're feeling it right now and smile. “Like all the stars have fallen to one place and are shining too brightly.”

There's a moment of quiet before Steve speaks, his voice soft, like making a wish.

“I wish I’d found you sooner. I wish… I could’ve spent all the years I’ve been here with you.”

“This is perfect.” You kiss him with a smile, gentle and devoted. 

“Everything is perfect.”

He smiles and kisses you back, gently cupping your face in his hands, his touch filled with tenderness and love. But as the kiss deepens, Steve feels like he's burning. 

Everything about you is a vortex of sensations: his mind fuzzy, your warm body in his arms, your hair smelling of white roses, your sweet breath, your lips, and your tongue. He pulls you closer, one hand sliding down to rest on your hip, rougher than before, his lips moving more insistently. He doesn’t want to stop; he needs to feel more of you.

“If you’re not stopping…” He hesitates. “I don’t think I can …”

“I don’t want you to.” You sit on his lap, holding him close, fingers in his hair, whispering.

Steve lets out a shaky exhale, his voice a little rougher than usual, his gaze locked onto you like a lifeline.

“Are you sure?”

“…Steve…” Your voice is almost a plea. “Please don’t make me beg…”

And that does it.

Steve lets your request override any other thought. His tongue explores your mouth, hungrily claiming it as his own. One hand grips your hip, pulling your body flush against his. His mind is a mess, tangled with desire and excitement, everything around him melting away except for you. He leans into you more, guiding you back until your hips hit the nearest wall, pinning you there.

“Where's the bed?” he whispers in your ear. You stretch out your arm and point in the right direction.

“Hold on tight.” He smiles as he carries you to the room at the back and can’t help but awe when he arrives.

“Oh, so it was true. It has an amazing view.” He admires the floor-to-ceiling window with the garden in full bloom outside, bathed in a violet and blue sunset.

You laugh between the pillows. “Would you mind… saving that for later?”

Steve chuckles as he comes back to your lips and your arms: “I’m sorry…” his fingers follows the line of your body, pressing one in your waist and the other interlocking with yours: “I promise nothing will distract me from you now…” 

He was feeling the surge of his powers –  everything was enhanced: the scent of you on the bed sheets, the shivers running through your skin at his touch, the way your hair brushed against him, and the intoxicating sound of your voice…his body was reacting accordingly, and it was impossible to hold back. 

Especially when you kicked off your clothes and he could feel the whole of you: your skin silky and warm, the jasmine scent from your bath lingering. He was utterly lost in lust.

He feels his heart racing, his breath coming in short gasps, his hands guiding you with slow, deliberate movements, trying to hold onto some control despite the intensity of his desire. 

He interlocks your hand with his, while the other holds your face. He can’t look away from your gaze as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, sparking a wildfire of need within him. He whispers your name against your lips, his voice thick with hunger and longing.

“I don’t think I can’t hold back any longer…”

You gasp, drowning in a whirlwind of emotion: “Please don’t hold back…anything...” And you feel him to complete you, his fingers entwined with yours, murmuring something before sealing you with a kiss.

The moment he was in you was overwhelming, but you wouldn't recall the pain.

You were filled with sensations, having his lips in your ears, the fierce pressure of his fingers interlaced with yours, his body as close to yours as it could possibly be. Every centimeter of your being was united with his, melting into his warmth.

You felt him everywhere. In the intense gaze he held as he moved in a pace to match your pleasure, in his low moans and groans,in the droplets of sweat falling from his body onto yours, in his shivers and trembling, in the way he pressed his hand in your waist and marked every movement as he was lost in lust.

“God…” 

Oh no, Steve was not lost, he was drunk in a haze of pleasure and need. 

He had this urge of possession, hunger of dominance, mixed with the overwhelming and insatiable need of you.

He looks at you. Your watery eyes glistening with pleasure and desire, your moaning lips, red and swollen, naked body covered by a thin sweat and marks he left in your collarbone, in your shoulders and breasts, you dig your fingers into his skin, the sounds of your moans filling his ears and driving him even wilder.

“Please don’t stop…” 

God that begging tone of yours, he just can’t take it, he needs more.

“Steve…” You whispered again, your hands cupping his face. His breath mingled with yours as he leaned in closer: “please…don't stop…”

Steve moaned, his brain short-circuiting momentarily at your words, the sound of your voice begging it drives him wild with need and desire. 

He tightens his grip on your hips, his movements becoming rougher and rougher as you beg for him and you are lost in his fastened paces, and he knows you are close, the moans that’re leaving your lips driving him mad.

“Babe you are driving me insane…” He can't hold back his low growl as you whisper in his ear, his movements becoming more urgent and rough as he pushes you harder, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he gives you what you ask for, pulling you closer and closer, and he can’t help to moan as he looks at you reaching your climax: “Yeah baby that’s it…I got you…” 

You gave in as he kissed you and the bed knocked so hard against the wall, Steve’s senses are coming to an edge too as you finally reach the limit, your moan is the most perfect and most pleasing thing he’s ever heard. 

He murmurs your name on the verge of losing control, so you press your whole body to him as helping to be there, Steve’s mind suddenly goes blank as the pleasure takes over, every sense, every nerve ending consumed by ecstasy. 

He cums long and warm inside you, and that alone makes you feel you could come all over again. 

His words strangled groans of pleasure. He looks down at you, completely at your mercy, eyes hazy, filled with pure, unadulterated ecstasy as he tries to speak, but you seal his words with a deep kiss. 

“That was…” His breaths came in hard and fast: “That felt…”

“Complete.” You finish the sentence for him.

Complete. He used the right word. That’s how you felt. 

He laughs and falls on top of you, cupping your face and kissing your chin, removing stands of sweaty hair from your face. 

His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, his body still quivering from the intensity of the orgasm. 

" I... I've never experienced anything like that…You were incredible…You're incredible…"

You were panting too. But you were also reacting over his kisses.

Oh damn, Dr. Lin’s felix felicis worked just fine.

“So…um…” You couldn’t catch your breath: “You do have…Saturdays off, right? Does…the Avengers get that? Weekends?”

“What?” He was already laughing when you asked, but still nodded: “Yeah I have time…”

“And…how fast does your serum work? Do you need to like…some hours to recover?” 

“What?” Steve can't help but let out a laugh at your question. You marvelous, adorable, perfect girl. You are the woman of his dreams. 

He leans in to kiss you. Yes, complete. That’s definitely the word. He had never felt this way with anyone before, but when he was with you, everything seemed to align, as if the universe had conspired to bring you both to this moment, to this connection. He felt like a lost star in the universe finally finding its way home.

“Hours?” He kisses your neck and starts to go down: “babe…you might be a genius...but I really need to show you how this serum works for me…hours? Please don’t underestimate me…” 

His hands starting to caress your body, cupping your breasts and leaving a trace of kisses, feeling you reacting at the same time that he was getting hard again, still inside of you. 

You let out a soft, deep moan, your body responding instantly to his touch, your eyes lost in lust again.

“Steve…” 

He loves that begging moan, he was so ready to hear it again. And he was going to make you to do that all night long. 

“The night is young.” He positions his hands in your waist, holding you tight, as he presses himself again inside of you, harder than the first time, his eyes locked on yours as he speaks: “And I’m glad for it.”

“Dr. Lin? um…Robert?” You knocked your colleague’s lab door on Monday, with a gift basket and a bottle of wine.

“Heeeeyyyy…” He was so happy to see you, Dr. Lin just turned around from his chair with a curious smirk: “Soooo? How was it? The mysterious date? I can tell you are satisfied…” he was practically singing. 

“Well…” You blushed slightly. 

The “date” has lasted the entire weekend. 

For the first time in your life, you were thankful for the body Hydra had given you, enough to endure and enjoy a weekend of endless lovemaking. 

You think you lost count of your orgasms by Saturday afternoon. But then of course, Sunday was also off, even for the Avengers. So you carried on. 

“Ahem…!” You cleared your throat, offering him the basket with the wine. “I’m just saying the Felix Felicis worked... as expected, even with just a drop.”

“Oh.” Robert's expression shifted. “Oh my gawd, I’m going to hell for this... Honey?” 

He patted your hand as he took off his glasses. “There’s no such thing as Felix Felicis…”

“What?”

“Yeah I lied…It was just a joke.” He made a ‘Sorry, not sorry’ face: “It was just perfumed alcohol.”

“Oh.” You were surprised. “Um... still... that’s just...” 

Wonderful. You couldn’t help but smile, handing him the basket anyway. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Lin— I mean, Robert. Really, thank you.”

“Ohhh…you’re blushing,” Dr. Lin winks at you. “You look like someone who just discovered the meaning of life.” By going out of that lab and finally having human contact, and not dying there like a potus, he thinks to himself.

You grinned. “Maybe I did.”

“Well, whatever it was, keep that glow. It’s contagious,” he said with a wink before turning around and continuing his work.

“I’ll try my best.” You nodded, smiled at him, and headed back to your lab. You were in the hallway when you received a message from Steve.

“Miss you already,” with a heart emoji.

You sighed and smiled. 

Maybe it wasn’t Felix Felicis, but magic did exist—and it was real every time Steve looked at you like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered.

End but TBD

Yay! That's a wrap on Chapter 3! ❤️ Thank you for reading so far. I apologize if my English isn't perfect; it's not my first (or even second) language.

I hope I got through the intensity and love that was intended. (At least at their first time, should be more about making love than fucking? If that makes sense...?)

Anyway, don't know where to place the timeline, but definitely is after Endgame and everyone is happy and alive, aaaand the fact that John is here with Steve in the same place, makes it more interesting :3 (I just love writing jelous Steve)

Hope you liked it! Every feedback is highly appreciated <3

Love.,

Moon.

P.S: Chapter names are all related to dream states ;) I'm posting something every friday :) So see you next friday!!!

[mattyriddlesbitch]

The Princess and The Knight(Chapter Two)

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of the basilisk

By your second year, Mattheo had made a reputation of being a dick and getting into fights. Many people avoided him, only his few friends you met on the train on the way to Hogwarts talked with him.

And you. You tried, at least. He would give short replies the whole time. ‘Yes’ ‘No’ ‘Maybe’ ‘I don’t know’ ‘Okay’ “Whatever’ That was pretty much his whole vocabulary with you.

His friends were okay with you. Not particularly friendly or went out of their way for you, but they weren’t rude to you and you were never one of their targets, which you were thankful for.

Second year started, and that was the year that there was something roaming Hogwarts, killing students. You were terrified, as any normal person would be.

You sat down in Potions next to Mattheo the day after the first attack, still a bit shaken up from the news.

“Did you hear about what happened?” You asked Mattheo as you started setting up your things for class.

“With the cat? Yes.” Mattheo answered, seeming unphased.

“I can’t believe something like that could happen here.” You said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It's just a cat. It'll be fine, probably.” Mattheo shrugged.

“What if it happens to a student though?” You ask, leaning forward to lean on the desk.

“Are you scared?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you, like he was confused about your reaction.

“Well, yeah. That could've happened to anybody. That's terrifying.”

“You don't have to be scared. Nothing's gonna happen to you.” His expression softened slightly.

“How can you be so sure? How are you not scared?” You asked, confused about his laid back attitude about it all.

He shrugged again, refusing to answer the questions. “Do you need me to protect you? Will that make you feel safe?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.

It almost took you back for a second. He was sarcastic with you often, but the question caught you off guard. But you quickly recovered. “Aw, are you offering to be my knight in shining armor?” You smiled at him.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “As if. You're not a princess, you know.”

“Only princesses get knights then?”

“Correct.”

You were about to respond, but Snape spoke up, starting his lesson.

After some more attacks, the school implemented a rule that you couldn’t walk alone and to always walk with someone else. You didn’t really know anyone in your potions class other than Mattheo, so you weren’t sure who you were going to walk with, but you figured you’d find someone when the time came.

So now, potions class had ended and you were packing up, watching everyone walk in pairs or groups out of the classroom. You grabbed your bag and headed to the door, but noticed everyone was gone. You frowned, but figured since the halls were filled with students, you shouldn’t have an issue getting to your next class and headed out of the classroom.

“Breaking the rules now?” You heard Mattheo say after you took a few steps out the door.

“What?” You turned to see him pushing himself off the wall and coming to your side.

“Not following the ‘walking with someone’ rule. You’re alone.” He said, grabbing your arm to make you keep walking before letting go.

“Everyone had someone else already.” You shrugged as you fell into step beside him.

“I guess that leaves us then.”

“You didn’t want to walk with anyone else?” You asked curiously.

“They’re all idiots, I’m not walking with them.” He answered simply.

“You know, I think I recall you saying something about only princesses getting knights.” You said in a playful tone.

“Yeah, and?”

“Does that mean I’m a princess now?” You joked.

“And I’m a knight then?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah.” You smiled at him.

“Fine then, princess. I guess I’ll be your knight for our 5 minute walk to your class.” He said sarcastically.

He walked with you between classes when he could, still keeping up the defense that he didn’t want to walk with anyone else since they were idiots. When they finally lifted the rule, he walked you to class one last time.

“Guess you won’t be needing my protection anymore, princess.” He said as you approached your class.

“Unfortunate. I was getting used to you walking with me.” You said, pouting playfully.

“Not like you’re never going to see me again.” He rolled his eyes at your pout.

“Might as well, though. It was the most you ever spoke to me.”

“Oh, shut up.” He stopped in front of your classroom.

“Well, I guess you’re retired now, my knight. Your services were appreciated.” You said with a small smile, chuckling when he rolled his eyes again, but this time with his own small smile.

“You’re stupid.”

“I know.”

There was a small moment of silence as you stared at each other, finally breaking when another student squeezed past you two to get into the classroom.

“Well, I better get to class. I’ll see you later, Mattheo.” You said and headed to your classroom.

“Yeah, later.” You heard him say before he started heading to his own classroom.

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Let me know if you wanna be added!

[laurfilijames]

Breathe

Part 10

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 6.5k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Fingering. Squirting. Oral sex (F receiving). Masturbation (M). Description of a heart attack and administration of CPR.

Summary: Comfortable domestication sets into your routines after Will officially moves in with you, and a quick stop at the grocery store on the way home from the gym earns Will another reputation at Publix.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who continues to follow this story and pour on so much love and excitement for it! With the events in this chapter, I'll urge anyone who has never learned or is set to renew to please get certified in CPR as you never know if and when you may need it! (In case anyone is wondering I've been watching far too much Bondi Rescue, already have a kink for first responders, and work in healthcare so this is the result 🤣)

Series Masterlist

---

Will pulled another one of his t-shirts out of the box he was unpacking and shook it loose from its current fold, refolding it and then tucking it neatly in the drawer that had been designated for him in your dresser.

All of his things were moved into the house thanks to the help of the guys, and after a couple of sleepless nights due to his insomnia put to good use, almost everything he owned had found a new place intermixed with yours, leaving him with only a few more boxes to sort through.

The usual anxiety he got from disorganization was calmed by a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in as long as he could remember, the normal stresses of moving his belongings yet again whisked away by the comforts of your house already feeling like home to him, the disarray of clothes and personal possessions that made him tick seeming small compared to the joy that was so immense in his heart.

“Hey,” your soft voice sang as you entered the room, walking up behind him where you carded your hands up his back and pressed a kiss on his shoulder.

Will smiled and covered your hand with his after you had wrapped it around to his front, glancing over his shoulder at you to see your face as much as he could.

“I was thinking you might want something to eat. Are you hungry?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Will confirmed, the grumble in his stomach unnoticed until now with how focused he was on putting things away.

“Okay, I’ll go whip us something up,” you offered, puckering your lips against his back one more time before peeling yourself off of him.

“I’ll do it,” he countered, taking an empty box and stacking it in another one on the floor. “You don’t have to do everything.”

He looked at you with a mix of appreciation and guilt, and you instantly knew a lot of your time living together would be spent with him trying to repay everything you did, never wanting you to lift a finger more than you should have to.

“How about we cook together then.”

Will’s smile was crooked on his gorgeous face, the grin bringing out the lines around his eyes that you loved so much, and he followed behind as you turned and walked out of your room, feeling his arms wrap around you to make you wobble with each step.

You laughed and held onto his forearms, squirming slightly as he rubbed his face back and forth on the side of your neck, a low growl reverberating through him.

He eventually released you, stalking you from a step back whenever you looked over your shoulder at him, pulling your lip in your teeth in seeing the ravenous glint in his eyes.

You decided to lean into this mood he was in, the confidence you felt from the way he kept staring at you making you work to tease him in subtle ways; casually touching your neck and chest with a light trace of your fingers, or slipping past him closer than was necessary to grab cutlery out of the drawer, your breasts brushing his arm as you did.

Looking over your shoulder to see if your flirting ways were getting a rise out of him, you giggled when you saw him shake his head ever so slightly, a quiet warning that only encouraged you more.

You had no reason to bend over to open one of the lower cabinets, but did so anyway, sticking your bum out purposefully in hopes he would take the bait.

Straightening yourself, you continued to face away from him, taking a pot and setting it in the sink where you flicked on the tap to fill it, accepting that you should try to make a valiant attempt at actually making dinner rather than only teasing him.

You grinned when you heard him approach, excitement bubbling in you as you anticipated his retaliation.

His large hand landed on your ass with a smack, playfully but with enough force to make every part of you ache, his tone full of wanting as he leaned over you from behind and spoke in your ear.

“Keep acting like that and we’ll be skipping dinner altogether.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you quipped, turning your body to better admire the way his t-shirt clung to his form as he retreated from you and reached up to open a cupboard, peering out at you behind the door with his eyebrows raised.

“Both. But maybe if you’re a good girl you’ll be made into dessert.”

Heat rushed through your body, your heart thrumming wildly in your chest as he shut the door with some force and closed the distance between you, his dominant stature looming over you and making you feel defenseless in the best way possible.

You closed your eyes, tilting your chin slightly to invite him to do whatever he wanted with you, reminding yourself to breathe as you stood waiting, your body completely still while arousal and lust ran frantically inside you.

You could feel him lean in close to you, the warmth of his body occupying your space, knowing his mouth was so close to yours and that his piercing blue eyes were watching you react.

Remembering once again to breathe, you forced yourself to release the air held in your lungs, your impatience growing as you continued to wait for Will to touch you in some way.

A quiet moan passed your lips with the breath you let out when he caught your chin with his hand, a firm hold on it with his thumb and index finger tucked underneath, angling your head back slightly more.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, the sound of awe in his voice making you smile, your chest swelling from his praise.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he added, his thumb moving to pull down your bottom lip before finally closing what little gap remained between you to kiss you. It was soft and sweet and full of a gentleness that was the opposite of what you were expecting, his hand letting go of your chin to land on your hips with the other one, squeezing your flesh before slipping them up and around your back.

You felt him exhale into you, his body relaxing and melting into yours, and after another minute of slowly tangling his tongue with yours he broke the seal of your lips.

His eyes were heavy when they flickered from your lips that were plump and moist from his and up the rest of your face until he met your gaze, his words coming out quietly but with a conviction you couldn’t deny.

“Let’s go to bed, dinner can wait.”

The house was full of laughter, bringing the biggest smile to your face as you cleaned up a bit in the kitchen, hearing Benny telling a funny story and all the other guys erupt loudly, the happiness you felt in hearing the sound of Will’s true laugh comparable to nothing else.

A full week had passed since he officially moved in with you, and tonight the guys were over for dinner to thank them for their help with moving all of his stuff over to your house; the pizzas almost all devoured and the empty beer bottles accumulating quickly.

Benny strutted into the kitchen as he called out a jab at Frankie over his shoulder, his broad smile greeting you and making yours stretch wider.

“Just remember,” he started, grabbing a couple of beers out of the fridge. “No take-backsies. I know more than anyone what a pain in the ass that one can be to live with but he’s all yours now.” His words came out serious but you knew Benny well enough to know he was joking, the look on his face giving away all the fallacy in his statement.

You laughed and shook your head. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting him go.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” he shouted, exiting the kitchen.

It had been another hour and Frankie, Santiago and Benny were all making their way out the door, Frankie supporting Tom as best he could as more than a few too many beers started to really show their effect on him.

“You sure you got him?” You heard Will ask Frankie as you rounded the corner from your bedroom.

“I’m fine!” Tom slurred, laughing as he tried to shake Frankie’s hold on him, only to stumble out the door and into Benny.

“Yeah, I’ll get him home,” Frankie assured Will, his tone sober and slightly annoyed, this not the first time any of them had had to wrestle his keys from him and drive him home.

“Thanks, man,” Will nodded, closing the door behind them once they all managed to find their way out.

He locked the door and turned around, puffing out his cheeks in a sigh as he raised his eyebrows at you with a knowing glance, then made his way over to the couch.

Will flopped down on it, resting his head back against it, his arms stretched out over the back while his legs splayed out wide.

You looked him up and down, never able to get over how long his legs were in his jeans that fit him so well and how you always found yourself desperate to straddle him whenever he sat like that.

Like he could read your thoughts, he beckoned you over with the tilt of his head, his smile crooked on his lips.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he purred.

You smiled as you slowly made your way over, watching him watch you with satisfaction and a slight deviousness on his face.

You went to grab onto his shoulders and straddle him, only to be stopped when he shook his head and spoke with a quiet demand.

“Not yet.”

You raised your brow and tilted your head, putting your hands up in the air to exaggerate not being able to touch him, a light chuckle sounding off his gorgeous lips.

“Get undressed,” he ordered, the hunger in his eyes making heat burst through your entire body, the need to get your clothes off even more pressing.

There was no time to waste with him sitting there looking like that, so amused and aroused, his confidence radiating through the room between you and into you as you began slipping out of your shirt and then pants, but slowed down when you got to your lacy set of underwear.

Nothing on Will moved other than his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his stoicism exciting you even more, his patience something to be admired.

You teasingly pulled the straps of your bra off your shoulders in turn, maintaining eye contact with him when you reached behind your back and popped the clasp open, squirming on the spot when it fell to the ground and exposed your chest.

Will tipped his chin up slightly, a subtle sign of his appeasement, his eyes seeming to glow as they floated over your breasts and then down your stomach to where your thong still covered you.

Hooking your thumbs in the waist of it, you slowly shimmied the tiny garment down your hips, only to stop and put it back in place, smiling when Will tilted his head in a somewhat cautionary way, making you abide and pull the underwear all the way down your legs as you bit your lip.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice low and rough.

“Can I come touch you now?” you asked, hoping his answer would be the one you wanted.

He nodded, his smirk ever-present on his perfect face, and you made your way over to him with as much composure as you could muster, really just wanting to leap into his lap and attach yourself to him.

It wasn’t as easy to get your way as you had thought; Will spinning you to face away from him once you were standing between his legs, a small huff of disappointment blowing out of your lungs as you were made to face the rest of the living room.

“Don’t pout,” he chided, his fingers tracing up the side of your thighs and across your hips, then over the curve of your bum, the sensation divine and ticklish all at once.

You felt his face brush against your skin, his beard both soft and rough, and you hummed as you relaxed to his touch, every caress familiar yet just as exciting as the first one.

His hand slid between your legs, his long fingers running through your folds while his other hand gripped your cheek and pulled it apart, a needy whine sounding out of you involuntarily.

You heard him groan as he continued to explore you, feeling your wet coating his fingers, his nose grazing against your skin as he brought his face nearer to your ass, smelling your arousal and inhaling all of you.

The sound of his heavy breathing and feeling it blow out on your naked flesh made you smile, knowing how crazy he was driven just from you standing there ready for him, your curiosity as to what he would do with you next spiking as much as your desire.

With his patience fully spent, Will forcefully pulled you down onto his lap, his hands pressing firmly on your stomach and chest to angle you back against his front.

You could feel the heat pouring off of him through his shirt and jeans, the denim rough on your bare skin as you shifted slightly and wiggled your bum against the hard bulge you were sitting on.

“Fuck,” he growled, his mouth beside your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck as he grabbed one of your legs at a time and threw them over his vast thighs, spreading his legs further apart so yours automatically did too.

You were now completely stretched wide, your cunt exposed to the rest of the room in front of you, Will’s right hand carding down your stomach that moved with your laboured breaths until he reached your splayed folds and inserted two of his fingers.

Your hips immediately began to move the moment he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, riding his hand that expertly massaged you, your soft cries of pleasure breaking through the quiet air already.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked in your ear, his mouth reattaching to the side of your neck.

You nodded, only to have the option of moving your head stop when his hand that wasn’t between your legs came up and wrapped around your throat, applying the most gentle pressure that had you aching and even wishing he would hold it tighter.

“Will,” you breathed, begging for more, the tempo at which you rocked against his hand increasing, his fingers that were hot and slick from your body moving to toy with your clit.

“You look so beautiful like this, sweetheart,” he growled, his tone not matching the sweetness of his words but all of it making you climb to your high even more.

He inserted his fingers back inside your hole, the heel of his hand hitting your clit and providing a firm base for you to grind against, and he released his other hand from around your neck and let it land on your tits, tugging at your nipples to make you cry out even more.

He kept you firmly against him, your skin rubbing on the material of his clothes with such contrast, your nudity feeling dirty and sinful and adding to everything you were feeling.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice strained as you ground on his throbbing cock through his jeans. “You’re gonna squirt all over me, yeah?”

His question rang out through the blood that rushed in your ears, your orgasm imminent and coming on fast, and knowing you were going to make a mess on him brought you to the edge, heat and pressure coiling at the base of your spine as he continued to roughly fuck you with his fingers.

You attempted to close your legs as your climax ripped through you, only to have Will keep them locked apart how they were by pressing his own further out, forcing you to feel every single part of your high as thoroughly as you could, the pace he kept with his hand not faltering.

You screamed and gripped his forearm hard, knowing you were leaving claw marks in his skin, your entire body spasming as you succumbed to everything he was giving you.

There was no rest when you were done, his fingers still working you relentlessly, determined to pick you apart as much as he could.

“Good girl, you're not done yet,” he hissed, keeping the same harsh rhythm that made you break in the first place.

You jolted against him, wailing and pleading, your body calming just enough to start the build on your second orgasm.

“Fuck! Will!”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his breath hot on your damp skin.

His large form supported you as you arched back into him, pressing hard against his front where he felt so solid compared to how boneless you felt from the intense pleasure he was providing you, and with even more persistence, Will’s fingers made you fall apart again.

The orgasm was even more profound than the first, and just as he had predicted he would make happen, you squirted all over his lap.

“Fuck, that’s it, keep going,” he praised, not letting up as he made sure to draw out every second of euphoria, the mess you were making not his concern right now.

You glanced down at his arm that was still working between your legs, noticing his tattoo glistening with your wet, the movement of his fingers on you finally slowing.

About to make a request to return the favour by offering yourself for him to use in which ever way he wanted, you were robbed of the chance, Will efficiently placing you off his lap and onto the leather cushion that was now slippery and getting on his knees in front of yours that he was forcing apart with his hands.

He looked at you hungrily, ready to devour you, his glance almost a warning that made your breath halt in your lungs as you waited for him to pounce, his fingertips gripping at the softness of your thighs.

“I need to taste this,” he huffed out, his chest moving exaggeratedly with heaving breaths.

Will dove his face between your legs, licking a broad stripe up your inner thigh until he reached your soppy cunt, your body shuddering in reaction to more stimulation on your oversensitive sex.

“Fuuuuuck!” The word was drawn out, your head falling back against the couch as you arched into his face, his hands pulling you closer to him as he dragged you to the edge by gripping under your ass.

He ate everything he had coaxed out of you, his groans of appreciation rumbling through you, and you opened your eyes when you felt him remove his hands from your body, watching him unbuckle his belt and then open the button of his jeans, the sound of his zipper pulling down making an excited noise blow passed your lips.

He continued to lick and suck at your clit, swiping through your folds and then swirling his tongue around your swollen bud, giving it a pull with his lips as he peeled his boxers down enough to release his throbbing cock and take hold of it, his breathing and intensity of his movements on you increasing after just a couple of strokes on himself.

Knowing he was transferring your juices from his hand onto his cock to lubricate his actions turned you even more feral, his muffled groans driving you even more crazy with lust.

“God, Will!” you cried, reaching behind you to grip the back of the couch with your hand, riding his face that he kept pressed firmly on your center, your eyes closing again despite being so desperate to see him jerk his long cock in his hand.

He was focused on his task, destined to make you shatter for a third time only now on his tongue, your pleasure adding to his own.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come again!” you wailed, and Will stayed exactly how he was, maintaining the same pace and pressure on your aching cunt as you crumbled, the only change being on his cock that he pumped furiously.

You exploded on his mouth, your cry sharp as your body convulsed, hardly noticing that Will had left your body and stood before you in your weak, fucked-out state as soon as you had finished.

Your tired eyes opened slowly when you felt his fingers under your chin, holding your face up, his thumb swiping on your lower lip where he gently forced your mouth open.

You looked up at him with love and obedience, letting your jaw hang for him, watching his gorgeous face contort with pleasure as he continued to work himself.

The muscles of his stomach and legs flexed wildly as he started to release, his moans growing louder as his load shot out onto your lips and tongue that you stuck out to catch a taste, not shying away from being covered in his cum, angling your torso forward to get yourself directly in the path of it.

It felt wonderfully warm on your skin, landing on your chest that had now cooled slightly from your sweat, your nipples hardening as it dripped down the curve of your breasts and tickled your sensitive skin.

Your smile was almost deranged as you looked up at him, the man who you loved and would do absolutely anything for, never feeling more powerful and sexy than you were now as you sat in your own mess while covered in his, the smell of your love heavy in the air.

He knew it too, his own crooked, sated grin tugging up the one side of his lips as he caught his breath, his hand returning to hold your face as he looked down at you with pride.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he spoke lazily, his orgasm taking away any tension in his body.

Your grin stretched out even more, the most satisfied, warm feeling running through your veins, your eyes closing as you bit your lip and caught another taste of him and relished in the way he loved and praised you.

“You don’t mind if I just run in quickly?” you asked, watching Will nod his head again in confirmation as he turned left at the stoplight.

“Yes! It’s fine,” he chuckled, amused that you had now checked with him twice that he didn’t care if you stopped in at the grocery store quickly on your way home from the gym. “I can get some stuff to barbecue for dinner tonight.”

“Yeah? Okay,” you agreed lightly, happy he was choosing to come in with you and didn't seem too bothered by it.

Will pulled into the Publix parking lot and found a spot near the back that was away from all the other cars and big enough for his truck, raising his eyebrows at you as he turned the key in the ignition and unfastened his seatbelt.

“Let’s go,” he chimed, opening his door with a somewhat forced smile, and you sensed a bit of hesitation growing in him as the amount of occupied parking spaces indicated the number of people inside.

You met him on the other side of the truck after getting out where he stood waiting for you, taking your hand in his before walking through the lot together.

“Thanks for coming with me,” you said softly to him, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you walked.

He gave your hand a squeeze and smiled at you, his sigh audible as you stepped in through the automatic doors.

“Why don’t you go grab what you need and I’ll meet you at the checkout?” he suggested, his eyes surveying the store rather than looking at you.

It was busy, families and couples and even more people on their own weaving in and out of the produce stands with their carts, and you knew Will already wanted out of there as quickly as possible.

“Okay, I’ll be quick,” you promised, already stepping away from him to get a move on despite not wanting to let go of his clammy hand.

Will cursed under his breath as he made his way through the produce section, regretting his decision of coming in as he felt a slight sense of panic start to creep up his spine, and he began counting his breaths to himself as he grabbed some peppers and zucchinis and then moved to where the fresh meat was displayed.

He picked out a pack of chicken thighs and felt some relief that he had efficiently got everything he needed for dinner, only to remember the bottle of olive oil at home was almost empty and he would have to go through more of the store to get to the aisle where it was stocked.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he turned down the aisle and it was empty aside from a gentleman facing one of the shelves who he assumed was in his sixties, passing by him quietly to stop in front of the bottles of various types of cooking oils, glancing at the prices and regions they were from.

Will reached out for a bottle, stopping when he felt a heavy hand land on his arm, making him shuffle it against the other ones on the shelf and almost fall off.

“What the f–” he started, his hand raising quickly in an instinct to protect himself while his anger did the same in his alarm, the groceries he was holding falling to the ground. When he saw it was the man he had passed dropping to the floor beside him in a heap, he immediately changed his tune, his confusion and defensiveness switching to act on the first aid training he’d practiced his whole career.

“Hey, hey,” he called, doing his best to guide the man carefully to the floor so he didn’t hit his head, a look of pure terror in his eyes as he stared at Will desperately. “It’s okay, buddy.”

“Fuck!” Will cursed, whipping his head around to look for help as the man immediately went unconscious.

Will’s index and middle fingers landed on his neck to check for a pulse, carefully waiting for a couple of seconds only to feel nothing beating against them.

He quickly positioned himself at the man’s side and placed his hands one on top of the other in the center of his sternum, beginning compressions and counting each one in his head.

One, two, three, four, five…

Each second felt like an eternity as Will waited for someone to pass by the aisle, unable to believe with how busy the store was that there was somehow no one around.

…eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…

Finally someone walked by.

“Hey! HEY!” Will shouted, his voice a boom amongst the normal sounds of chatter and generic music playing overhead, the beep of the cash register scanning food carrying on as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

The other man Will had yelled at stood frozen behind his cart, only nodding his head as Will instructed him what to do.

“Call 911 and ask an employee for a defibrillator. Now.”

The guy fumbled for his phone in his pocket but to Will’s relief was on the line with the 911 operator right away, and thankfully someone else noticed what was happening and came over to Will.

“What can I do?” they asked, kneeling beside the unresponsive man.

“Tip his chin up and back to try to open his airway,” Will explained, still compressing on his chest.

About a minute later and already into his second round of chest compressions, an employee skirted around the corner with the defib in hand, moving quickly to open it.

“There should be scissors in there,” he explained, still counting in his head. “Cut his shirt off.”

They did as they were told, quickly exposing the man’s chest as Will continued to press on it where his unbeating heart lay beneath, trying to get it pumping again.

“Put one pad here…good, and the other there,” he nodded, indicating the spots where they needed to go with his head as he continued what he was doing.

Will stopped doing CPR once the automated voice instructed him to stop touching the patient, waiting for the defibrillator to assess and confirm if a shock was needed, wiping the sweat dripping from his face with his hand.

When you heard an employee who was stocking a shelf say to another as you walked by that there was an emergency happening a few aisles over, your heart immediately jumped into your throat.

Automatically, you started hurrying through the store, glancing down each section you passed in search of Will, trying to calm yourself and reassure your racing mind that it was unlikely it had anything to do with him, knowing nothing like what happened to him before in this store was likely to happen again.

You slid between a group of people crowding around the end of the condiments section, standing by and watching the scene before them that you eventually were able to see for yourself.

Will’s wearied, blue eyes instantly met with yours as you locked in on him kneeling beside an older man who paramedics were now attending to, the apparent excitement starting to settle as the man who, from what others were whispering beside you, was ‘dead’ only a minute ago.

Will gave you a nod that told you he was fine as he continued telling the paramedics what had happened and how many rounds of compressions he had performed, and that after two sets of CPR, the man’s pulse returned after having been unresponsive for exactly four minutes and fifty-three seconds.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do now that the paramedics were treating him and he had regained consciousness, Will stood and stepped over to you, placing his arm around you so his hand landed on the small of your back.

You felt it shake against you slightly, but he nodded again to confirm he was okay when you asked, his deep breath blowing out as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

A woman beside him clapped her hand on his arm appreciatively, congratulating him on his efforts. “You’re a hero!”

A few other people standing close agreed with her claim, and Will shook his head and glanced over at you, his voice quiet when he spoke.

“Can we get outta here?”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, not taking your eyes off of him as you slipped through the crowd and made your way out of the store.

It was silent after his door slammed shut, and you watched as Will stared out the windshield for a minute before sighing out slowly and then looked down at his lap.

You didn’t say anything, simply reached over and placed your hand over his, smoothing your thumb on the back of his hand until you saw the tension he held in his body visibly relax, his shoulders dropping and the flex in his cheek releasing.

His next sigh mixed with a bit of a laugh, shaking his head as he finally spoke.

“Maybe I'll have a better reputation at Publix now.”

You squeezed his hand, watching him continue to look almost defeated even though what he had just done was truly amazing, knowing how much guilt burdened him from the first incident he’d had at the store.

“You’re a good man, Will,” you proclaimed, feeling it to be the most true thing that’s ever come out of your mouth other than your love for him, your heart aching for him that he would never believe it no matter how many lives he saved or good things he did to make up for the ones he’d taken and choices he’d made.

When he remained quiet, knowing his mind was going a mile a minute and beginning to torture him with things he could no longer control, you leaned over the console and reached for his face, landing your palm on his cheek to get him to look at you.

“Hey,” you called, softly, and he smiled weakly as he turned his head and glanced over. “Do you want me to drive?”

He shook his head again, leaning slightly into your palm for a second as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“No, it’s okay. Driving will give me something to focus on. Thank you though,” he said, genuinely, his hand covering yours that still remained on his cheek, kissing your palm before peeling it off of him so he could press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Let’s go home,” he added, adjusting his body against his seat to shift his tired muscles before putting on his seatbelt and turning the key to start up the engine with a low roar.

“I’m gonna have a shower,” Will announced when you got in the door, still needing one after the gym and even more so now after the stress of the emergency at the store.

“Yeah, okay, enjoy,” you said, giving him a quick peck on his lips.

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment, and he looked at you honestly, his tone true when he spoke.

“I’m okay, sweetheart, I promise.”

You smiled. “I know you are, Will. How about I sort us out some dinner? You must be hungry after all that.”

He held his stomach and sighed with a grin, “I’m starving!”

You giggled and nodded, stepping toward him again to wrap your hands around his middle to hug him, angling your face up at his. “Okay, go get clean and then I’ll get you fed.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, kissing you slowly. “I’ll never deserve you, baby.”

His hands stroked your hair as his eyes swept over your features like he would never fully grasp that you were his to love and vice versa.

“But you do,” you corrected, a smile dressing your lips when a smirk formed on his.

Will finally broke your embrace and disappeared to the bathroom, leaving you to go to the kitchen where you pondered what to put together for a meal while standing in front of an open cupboard.

You had really needed to grab a few things at the store, the pantry looking sparse and the fridge brighter than normal with all the empty spaces in it, and closing the door, you decided it was worth spending a couple extra bucks to order in some comfort food after a trying day.

Even though it wasn’t remotely cool outside, you decided some hot, spicy Pho would be the perfect choice, quickly ordering it on a delivery app and smiling when it was confirmed to arrive in less than twenty minutes.

You went into the living room and closed the curtains, grabbing two blankets from where they were neatly folded on the ottoman along with some pillows and placed them on the floor between the couch and coffee table.

A few candles were now lit and brought a warmth to the room that you loved so much, and you turned on the tv, selecting Seinfeld, knowing Will would appreciate having a familiar favourite on that would be easy to watch and take his mind off the excitement of what happened.

The sound of the shower was still going, and while waiting for the food to arrive, you ran down into the basement quickly to stick a clean towel in the dryer for a couple of minutes, hoping you would make it back up the stairs before Will was finished.

You slipped in the bathroom door that was left ajar, placing the hot towel on the vanity for him to use when he stepped out, taking a moment to admire his naked form standing beneath the stream of water, looking statuesque and godly.

Forcing yourself back out of the bathroom and not into the shower with him, you answered the door after hearing a knock, bringing the bag of food over to your cozy set-up.

You had just finished setting it all out when you heard Will walk in, and looked up to see him smiling brightly, his hair wet and sticking up a bit, his grey track pants low on his hips that made his bare upper body appear even longer.

“The warm towel was a nice touch,” he smirked, striding over where he wrapped his hands around you and pulled you into him, kissing you fiercely.

You giggled against his lips, your hands spreading out over his warm skin that was still tacky from his shower.

“Good.”

“What’s all this?” he asked, nodding behind you to the two giant bowls of soup.

You shrugged, “I thought it would be nice after everything that happened. Plus our options here were something between cereal and a can of tuna.”

Will’s eyebrows rose on his forehead in agreement, and he nodded as he looked at you with warmth and love in his blue eyes.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

With full bellies, you moved onto the couch, snuggling up to Will’s side with his arm draped comfortably over you to keep you close to him, his occasional laugh moving your head along with that of his chest as you rested against it.

“I’m glad you were there with me today,” he said quietly, his fingers lacing with yours as he did.

“I was the one who dragged you there in the first place.”

He huffed a small laugh, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he looked down at your entwined hands.

“Maybe we were meant to be there,” he admitted, his voice quiet almost as if he was thinking out loud.

You nodded in agreement. “I think so.”

“I hope he’s doing okay,” he added, giving your hand a squeeze as he thought about the man’s family, hoping he was lucky enough to have someone to love and fuss over him through his recovery, realizing more than ever what it meant to have someone to love you with their whole heart but knowing that if there was such a thing as luck in this world, he had taken it all.

Will tilted his head to see your face better, staring at you for a minute before speaking with quiet conviction.

“I love you so much.”

You reached up and rubbed his cheek, his beard soft on your skin. “I love you too, Will.”

“I feel like I can’t tell you enough.”

Your smile faded out as you took in the perfection of him, the warmth in his eyes and the fullness of his lips, your eyes trailing down to his chest where his clean, porcelain skin harboured his heart that held more love in it than anyone you had ever met before.

“Then tell me again,” you whispered.

He leaned closer to you, his lips temptingly close to yours while maintaining eye contact that made your breath stop.

“I love you.”

---

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[mechdyke-after-hours]

INSIDE THE SHIP OF FLESH

second part to Inside The Tower of Gold!!

⚠️ WARNINGS!! ⚠️

transformers one spoilers, NON-CON, tentacle sex, ovipositon + egg laying, sounding, semi-public sex

y'all... I have NO idea how this fic turned out like this. I wasn't even expecting to write this chapter, let alone make it this... explicit. enjoy!

Going to the surface wasn't exactly a pleasant experience on a regular day, let alone after Sentinel's... experience last night. The more he thought about it while getting ready, the more conflicted he got. He still ached all over and the ozonic scent of leftover transfluids practically wafted off his frame. He buffed out as many scratches and paint transfers that he could in around 10 kliks, which admittedly... wasn't a lot.

Sentinel had respect for the Quintessons, of course he did. They helped him get everything he wanted and then some, all in return for a bit of energon. But they weren't exactly friendly, to say the least. They were very demanding creatures. Always wanting more. But he always just grit his denta and smiled, something he was very practiced at doing by now.

His announcement was slightly more rushed than usual. He still looked a bit of a mess, despite his best efforts. Scuffs and scratches littered his usually perfect plating, and his smile was slightly more forced. His powerful voice boomed over the Iacon display screens as he explained how he was once again "going to the surface and risking his life to find the matrix, for the greater good of the cybertronian race!" with a wide, toothy smile. He could hear the cheers from the broadcast room, mechs and femmes alike screaming his name. He puffed his chassis out slightly, grinning as the broadcast ended. He turned to Airachnid, and gave her a nod as they finished the final preparations.

As he stood in front of the Quintessons he couldn't help but feel that something was off. Sure, he had brought a little less energon than usual, but the way their red glowing eyes stared him down was wrong. He kept his cool, even when the high commander moved closer, hot breath washing over his frame. Slimy organic tentacles grabbed at him, bringing him up to its face. The Quintesson sniffed him, its eyes glowing just a little brighter as it lifted Sentinel up, eyeing his shoddily welded-on modesty panelling.

"I'll be bringing extra next time, I promise." Sentinel smiled as much as he could, trying to ignore the damp breath of the Quintesson high commander as it wafted over his face plate, the stench of something astringent filling his olfactory sensors. He was so focused on the smell, he didn't feel the slimy appendages inching tighter around his limbs.

It happened so quickly. His already once injured modesty panel was being pried off. Without thinking, he retracted it. The Quintesson sniffed again, the traces of leftover transfluids having leaked out and stained Sentinel's valve. He shot a glance towards Airachnid and the other guards, who were simply looking the other way, keeping an optic out for any other threats and ignoring the scene in front of them. Traitors.

The Quintessons tentacles tightened around his wrists and ankles, stretching him out until he was completely spread eagle, barely able to move. His wings twitched uselessly as he tried to get away, but the sight of glowing red eyes and bared teeth quickly put a stop to his attempts. He hung uselessly in the air as horrifyingly organic appendages probed and explored his frame, leaving sticky trails on his already marred plating. Grin and bear it. Grin and bear it.

The first slide of the appendage along the plush golden folds of his valve wasn't as unpleasant as he was expecting. He vented heavily as it toyed with his node for a moment, before sliding inside. The taper made it an easy fit at first, especially after the rough treatment his valve had already faced just hours before. But it kept sliding, and each segment kept getting thicker and thicker. It wasn't long before his callipers felt stretched to their limit, the small blunt tip pressing against the entrance to his gestation chamber.

As Sentinel's intake opened to protest, another one of the high commander's tentacled limbs pressed against his glossa. The taste and texture was vile, unlike anything he'd ever put in his mouth. It pushed forwards, filling his intake quickly, and slowly sliding down his throat. He gagged, but it didn't stop. He didn't realise he was crying, sobbing even, until he tasted the salty tang of coolant on his glossa. The tentacle went impossibly deep, down his throat to the point he could feel it in his tanks. The one in his valve pressed harder against his gestation chamber, and he felt a sudden pop. The delicate silicone ring gave way, allowing the Quintesson to slide even deeper.

To his horror, a third tentacle started prodding at his frame. He was no stranger to aft play, but with his body already so stuffed full he couldn't even begin to imagine it fitting into his port. But that didn't stop the Quintesson from trying. The natural lubrication of the appendage helped it slide in with ease, the tapered end once again proving useful. He cried out loudly, oral lubricants spilling out of his intake around the intrusion and onto his chassis. His port stretched painlessly, and for that he was thankful.

The high commander set a brutal, punishing pace. Sentinel tugged at his restraints again, his optics squinting closed as tears continued to spill down his cheeks. An overload was forced out of him, static energy arching and bouncing off his plating as transfluids shot out of his spike and splattered onto the ground beneath him, staining the floor pink. The Quintesson didn't slow, further bullying Sentinel's overstimulated and stretched valve.

A fourth, much thinner tentacle slid around his leg and up his thigh. It wrapped around the base of his spike, providing even more unwanted stimulation. Sentinel felt a strange pressure at the tip of his spike, his optics shooting open just in time to see the smallest appendage slide into his transfluid lines. The stimulation was confusing, the area so sensitive that it almost hurt. He let out a series of mumbled, confused moans as his spike was stretched, the thin tentacle thrusting slowly and releasing even more slimy fluids to aid the stretch. He bit down on the appendage stretching his intake slightly, his venting heavy and uneven, his frame overheating to the point his tears sizzled against his cheek plating.

The tentacle in his valve started flexing, becoming slightly thicker suddenly. Sentinel panicked and choked as a round object pushed itself into his valve, pushing against the entrance to his gestation chamber. He was suddenly thankful for the earlier stretching as the slightly gelatinous orb slid into him. He'd heard tales of how Quintessons reproduced, but he wasn't expecting to ever experience it firsthand. A second egg pressed against him, sliding in with surprising ease. The thin tentacle filling his transfluid line stopped him from overloading, leaving him frustratingly right on the edge. He sobbed, but no tears fell.

After a long moment, the barrage of squishy eggs finally slowed to a stop. His abdominal plating bulged out obscenely, creaking under the strain of his stretched out protomesh. The ovipositor tentacle twitched before releasing a sticky thick slime, filling him up even more. It retracted slowly, leaving his valve empty and stretched wide. A gush of fluids followed it, splattering onto the floor between his legs with a disturbing squelch. Next slid out the one in his spike slit, followed by the one in his port. The one from his intake was the last to retract, making his insides churn and lurch as he struggled not to purge his tanks.

The Quintesson high commander didn't let Sentinel go; however, if anything the appendages restraining him only got tighter. He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his glossa heavy in his mouth. His voice box let out a burst of static uselessly. His optics flickered offlined for a moment, before he felt a rush of pressure in his core.

The slime started to leak from his gestation chamber, providing a tingling numbing sensation not unlike the circuit booster patches from the night before, but located entirely in his valve. The pressure started soon after, the eggs having swelled slightly in the short time they had to germinate inside of his chambers. The Quintesson spread his legs slightly more and let out a chittering noise. Even more slime gushed out of Sentinel's abused valve, the blue and gold folds gaping open obscenely. His node blinked in time with his ventilations, his frame feeling slow and relaxed despite his current situation. He vaguely understood that he needed to start pushing, and he did just that. His valve stretched wide around the firm yet jelly-like eggs as they fell onto the floor below into a wet pile. His optics offlined again as he crashed into another overload, aiding the birth of the last few Quintesson eggs.

The high commander signalled to the other Quintessons who quickly rushed over, picking up the eggs and carrying them inside the grotesque looking ship. Sentinel was dazed, his helm spinning and throbbing in pain. He was dumped rather unceremoniously onto the sticky floor beneath, his plating suffering another few dents from the landing alone. His limbs twitched rather uselessly as he wiped drool and slime off his face with the back of a servo. The Quintesson left rather quickly after that, leaving him and the rest of his party alone in the techno-organic wasteland.

The last thing he saw before he finally passed out was Airachnid staring at him with unblinking optics, almost definitely recording and saving everything into her seemingly infinite memory banks. Whether to use it as blackmail against him or the Quintessons, he wasn't sure. But he'd have to ask for a copy later as... proof.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 5

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 5 🔞

Word Count: 7361

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Guys this chapter is biiiig! I'm so sorry. But I didn't want to cut it short and remove such a fun interaction at the end... It has a lot of important information going on but it's a bit NSFW, k? Not too explicit, but still... 🔞

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil

Masterlist

|Chapter 4|

You barely see Law after that encounter because of your conflicting schedules. He texts you the details for the wedding, stressing the need to dress to impress and tries to offer you money to buy dresses but you refuse vehemently saying there’s no need. 

You have a friend with the classiest, sluttiest closet you've ever known: Nami. 

She, however, forces you to buy new lingerie to go with the dresses because there's no way you can wear satin with granny panties underneath. Only sultry lace. You almost think you got away with not telling her who your date for the wedding would be, but you bump into Kaya and Usopp, and learn that Law informed Kaya of his absence because of a wedding he's going to attend. 

Nami can add two and two. 

And she does it in front of Kaya and Usopp which renders the rest of your afternoon useless while you are teased relentlessly. 

On the plus side, Nami's dresses are really beautiful, fit you perfectly and you both find the perfect colours to complement your complexion. You pack extra dresses, just in case. 

And extra panties. 

Law tells you that you're to leave Friday morning because you have to be at the Donquixote household in the afternoon and the drive to the city still takes a while - you manage to do extra hours at work on Thursday to compensate for your absence. You'll sleep there for three nights, the rehearsal dinner is on Saturday, the wedding and reception are on Sunday, and then you’ll come back Monday morning - you'll compensate for those hours on Tuesday. 

That means you'll spend about four days pretending to be Law's girlfriend. 

After the heated moment you had while practising, you're feeling both apprehensive and excited about the prospect. You've had a taste of what he's been telling you, how rewarding it can be to let go of your control, to let someone else take over. It felt good, freeing and so pleasurable. 

And he barely even showed you the tip of the iceberg. 

You're aching for more of his relentless teasing, you're pretty sure you can kiss him faster this time. You just want to taste him again. 

Sighing, you decide to finish packing. It's going to be a long weekend. As you take the dresses out of the bag Nami put them in, your eyes widen at the unexpected surprise she left there. 

A box of condoms. 

Sneaky Nami. Does she think she's witty and funny? 

Joke's on her, you're taking them anyway! 

Deep down, you're hoping you get to use them.

-*-

Law greets you normally from inside the car, as if nothing happened and he wasn't probing your throat with his tongue earlier this week. 

You, on the other hand, immediately lose it at the sight of his smirk. 

Fuck. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He knows he's got you wrapped around his little finger. And that's why you're not going to make this easy on him. 

“Hi.”

You exclaim tensely as you approach the car, already struggling to figure out how to open the door to his sleek, black Tesla. Yet, Law doesn't give you any time to make a fool of yourself as he gets out of the car and opens the door for you. You can't help but notice how casual and sexy he looks. Black jeans and a yellow t-shirt, paired with expensive sunglasses that fit him like he’s a movie star - that's the whole look, and it drives you crazy. 

He sees you checking him out, so he leans in and places a soft kiss on your cheek as his hand grips your waist, pulling you towards him. “Hi, sweetheart, you look gorgeous.”

Freezing in place, you feel your cheeks burning from the intimacy of his greeting. Your father watches you both from the porch, coffee mug in hand and a silly grin on his face. 

“How are you doing, Mr. S.?” Law's eyes barely leave yours, an amused glint making them twinkle and sparkle. 

“Oh, I'm mighty fine! I'm greatly enjoying the show!” Shanks replies, his shit-eating grin still in place and you already regret sharing with him what you were doing this weekend. Truth be told, you didn't exactly tell him you were going as Law's girlfriend, you just said you were going as his date, in a friendly manner, so Law could avoid his uncle. But after the way the doctor greeted you, you're sure your father now firmly believes there's more than friendship between you. 

You mumble curses at both men as Law lets go of you to place your bags in the trunk of the car. Then he lays your dresses neatly in the backseat, near his suits, so they don't wrinkle too much. 

“Bug, be careful!” Shanks admonishes from the porch. 

“Yes, yes, I will! Call if you need anything.” You say, mostly out of habit more than anything else, because your father would be much better off calling Ace or Beckman if he needed immediate assistance since you'll be far away. 

“I won't. Have fun!” You wave him goodbye as you enter the car and Law closes your door, but you watch as his grin widens. “Law, take care of my baby girl, will you?”

Law then closes the backdoor of the car and chuckles. “Sure will, Mr. S.” He waves and enters the car, taking his seat and burning you with his amber gaze and sexy smirk. His hand lands on your exposed thigh and he squeezes softly. “I'll take good care of her.” He whispers, earning a muffled gasp as you purse your lips to contain the incriminating sound. 

As he chuckles again, fastens his seat belt, and inputs the new destination into the GPS, you take a deep breath, steadying your heart rate. You're determined to not let him hold the same control over you as he did the other day. 

Very determined.

But as he backs the car away, completely disregarding the cameras on the dash and placing his tattooed bare arm behind your seat to look back - dark, tinted sunglasses in place and an unreadable expression - you sigh and close your eyes, your determination leaving you in a heartbeat. 

This is going to be a long ride. 

-*-

As soon as he enters the interstate, you fish out your tablet from your purse, turning it on and adjusting the brightness so you can read the screen. 

“You're really going to ignore me? Am I less interesting than all your book boyfriends?” He says, eyes fixed on the road since there's a bit of traffic. 

You try to hide a small blush by adjusting your sunglasses. He's not right. He's way more interesting than any book boyfriend. He's real. 

“I'm not going to read.” You ignore his comment, trying to steer away from every chance he gets to gain the upper hand. “I'm opening our list so we can cover the important questions that were left unanswered the other day. Since it's a long ride, we can study. And maybe make up a story about how we met and fell in love. A believable one.” You mumble. 

Law scoffs. “Again with that list. Fine, if we must.”

“We must.” You reinforce your statement. “We still haven't covered our personal stories… maybe that's important? It could come up.”

You glance at him and notice that familiar crease forming in the middle of his eyebrows. You know he moved in with his uncles at ten but you have no idea how his parents died, and that's something a girlfriend would know. You’ve shared everything about your parents and their divorce with him already, but there's still your story about Ichiji, which you're not so keen on sharing. 

He sighs deeply, his face falling into that stoic expression. “Later. Also, why do we need a love story? Isn't ours perfect?”

The tablet you're holding almost falls to the ground as your head whips to the side. “Ours? What do you mean?”

The smirk returns as his foot presses the gas and he passes two slow cars in the right lane. “You're the daughter of my surgery patient. As soon as I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. When you passed out in my office while yelling at me, I was certain. When you fumbled and made a fool of yourself just because I was examining you, I knew there was no way out of it. When your expression intensified as I called you a ‘good girl’, I was deeply ensnared. The rest came naturally. I helped your father, we got close, we fell in love.”

You're staring at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. Is this how he feels? Or is this pretence? Because the way he told the story was really believable. The thrumming of your heart is slower and steadier than when he's teasing you, something much more grounding than the usual feeling, but no less intense. 

“What do you think? Is it believable enough or should I add more details?” 

Oh… It’s not real. 

“No,” You clear your throat, “it's perfect. Everyone will buy it.”

You did. 

-*-

“There's another important thing we still haven't discussed. I don't think you covered it in your professional-looking spreadsheet.” Law says when you're taking a break from asking him questions, trying to memorise some of his answers so you don't slip up when it really matters. 

He sounds serious, so you take your eyes off your tablet to look at him. “Oh? I covered everything.” You say with a slight edge. 

Law's low chuckle is not condescending. “Yes, you covered daily things, information, wants and hopes for the future.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look you in the eyes. “You didn't cover boundaries.”

Your mind instantly takes you to the heated moment you shared when he kissed you. If you had any boundaries set then, would he still have done it? You don't want to go without his touch. 

It's far too addictive. 

“Oh. That.” 

“Yeah, that. It's important. What are your boundaries? What is off the table? Besides sex, obviously. We don't need to do it to fool anyone.” You lock your tablet, fixing your eyes on the road ahead and pondering. He's right, sex is a big boundary. But what are your other boundaries? 

“Well… I… I don't mind doing what we did in your house.” Why does your voice sound so small? 

“Speak up, sweetheart, don't be afraid to tell me what you want.” He uses that commanding tone that sends shivers down your spine and twists your stomach. 

Taking a deep breath, you steady your voice, fixing your eyes on the licence plate of the car in front of you. “I think we should kiss… because of appearances… and I like all the teasing, and the touching… I don't mind having to beg for it.” You whisper again, cheeks ablaze and heart pounding. 

“It's nothing to be ashamed of. I also like it when you say please.” Fuck. 

“Is the AC on?” You stammer and he chuckles low, setting the AC higher. 

“What else?” You open your mouth and close it a few times. This one is a little harder to get out. Law takes a look at you and smirks. “You like it when I call you ‘good girl’, right?”

Fuuuuck! The voice! It's his voice! It makes everything - better! - worse! 

“Yes!” The words leave your lips in a hurry and you take a deep breath again. Why is this so hard? 

You never had to speak about these things with Ichiji, about what you want or like. You had ‘normal’ sex where he focused on getting himself off. He didn't especially chase your pleasure, not if he wasn't in the mood for foreplay. But this conversation isn't about sex, anyway, it's about boundaries so you should focus! 

“How about touching? Where can't I touch you?”

“Erm… Below the waist?” You try, tentatively. Thinking about his hands on your body is already leaving your brain in a puddle of mush. 

“So I can't touch your legs?”

“You can!” Another blush creeps in. “And you can touch my butt too…” That sentence comes out as a mumble but he hears it. 

“So it's just your vagina I can't touch, right?” He’s amused by your embarrassment and you know it. 

“Yes, doctor.” A loud sigh leaves your lips. “How about you? Where can't I touch?” Time to turn the tables! 

“Sweetheart, you can't touch me anywhere. I'm in control, remember?” His smirk is unbearable. And unbearably hot. 

“That's not fair, Law!” 

“You're right, it’s not. But you’ll only touch me if I allow you to, if you’re being good.” He lets out another chuckle, a low rumble. “The same rules as you, then.”

“So I can’t touch your vagina?” The smirk on your lips is teasing and you both share a laugh. 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” A smirk of amusement still lingers on your lips when he asks you the next question. “So everything else is fine? What we did before? The teasing, the touching?” He asks one more time.

“Yes. All of that is fine.” It’s welcomed, even. “Should we… should we save these interactions for when we’re n public?”

“I don’t think we can very well do that in public.” He teases.

“You’re right. Maybe when we feel like it?” You have to admit you relished in the complete surrender of control you experienced the other day. You see yourself getting slowly addicted to that feeling. “I've been thinking and what you did the other day soothed me… I wouldn't mind exploring that… Besides, I think whatever interaction that serves to deepen our pretence is…” Needed, desired, wanted! “Beneficial to our act.”

“Oh.” He sounds surprised. “You want to be spontaneous? Where is your need to control every little situation?”

Your hands fidget with the hem of your dress, straightening it and then picking at a thread as your mind wanders. You’re trying to let go, like he said. Trying to surrender. Trying to let him help you do that. But you don’t quite know how to answer him. You want his help, but you don’t want to impose. You don’t want to force him to help you. Does that even make sense?

You feel it even before you see it. Law’s hand sits on your leg, a bit above the knee and he squeezes. “It’s alright. One step at a time. There’s no rush.”

-*-

The ride keeps going at a steady pace, you fill in the blanks of some seemingly unimportant questions like: ‘when was your first kiss, and with whom?’ or ‘do you want to have kids?’ Meaningless stuff normal couples would talk about. Law gets tired of the questions pretty quickly and just as the GPS indicates that you're about halfway to your destination, he drives the car to a rest area so he can stretch his legs and asks you if you want some coffee. 

You couldn't agree more. Your legs feel stiff and your butt aches. 

Law puts the car in the fast charger as you both head inside to grab some coffee and use the restroom. Neither of you wants to sit down again, but, conveniently, there are trees surrounding the whole rest area and there's a path connecting the entirety of it, so you both decide to walk it, to pass the time and stretch your legs. 

After a few moments, you try again. “About our pasts, Law, as my boyfriend I would have told you all about my ex…” You decide to start, since talking about his parents’ death must be very hard for him. 

He nods and glances at you so you know he's listening. “We were together for around four years, having moved in together after one year of dating. He proposed to me last year and we were already planning the wedding, it was pretty serious and I genuinely thought I was in love. He's the son of a very powerful man and I worked for his father at a very prestigious company.” Ichiji's name is at the tip of your tongue, you could just say it. But you're certain Law knows who he is and maybe that's a bit more information than you're willing to share right now. Talking about an anonymous asshole beats talking about someone he can picture doing terrible things to you. 

Taking a deep steadying breath after a small sip of coffee, grounds you as you continue, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet lending you some sort of comfort. “I found out he was cheating on me and a little research proved he had always been cheating on me, since the beginning, I was just too blind to see it. He was manipulative, controlling and a bit possessive - all in terrible, demeaning and very dangerous ways. He made me feel like it was my fault that he cheated, that I wasn't good enough for him, that I would never be good enough for anybody. Instead of feeling safe around him, I always felt on edge, it was… it was unbearable.”

You don't even realise that you’ve stopped on the path, your eyes fixed somewhere else, not focused on anything. The pain from the past still manages to hinder and hurt you. It's Law's touch that brings you back. His hand on your waist, pulling you to him helps you remove yourself from those hurtful events. He leans his head to your ear and whispers, his breath hot against your shivering skin. 

“If this were real, I would make you forget all about that asshole.” His fingers dip against your skin and he grits his teeth. “There's nothing I can do about him now, but I can help you overcome the pain.” You nod slowly, your mind hazy as to what's real or not. “If this were real, I would never make you feel like that. You'd be all I have ever wanted. I would make you see that you're more than enough, that you're everything.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the intensity of his voice as you feel the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes. Your mind is reeling and your heart is racing again. This is too confusing. 

“Law,” you whisper, blinking and taking a small step back but not pulling away from his grasp. “We need some sort of signal, some way to know we're faking or being real. It's too much. I can't handle this, I need a semblance of control.”

He grunts, pulling away from you as his fingers tousle his black hair and you both resume your walk. “You're right.”

“Should it be verbal? Like a safe word? Or something physical?” 

“Verbal might be too obvious. Doflamingo is very sharp. We have to use something physical. Not too conspicuous, something of meaning to both of us.” Law looks at you, trying to come up with something. “Do you always wear earrings?” 

He eyes your ears, you currently have small hoops on - quite similar to the ones he's wearing. “Usually, yes. I can wear them all weekend, I have different ones to go with the dresses.”

“Okay.” He says as he stops, making you stop too. Then he takes a step closer to you, his hand raising near your ear. “When I'm faking it, I'll start with this.” His fingers touch your ear, twirling your earring as his lips curve upwards. “And then I'll do whatever action I was going to do to pretend. You can do the same to me, I won't take off my earrings either.”

You nod as he drops his hand and you raise yours, to give it a try. Your eyes pierce his and his amber gaze is quite soft. Softer than you've ever seen him. Could it be because of what you shared about Ichiji? Your fingers graze his ear and you notice the way his jaw clenches at the touch. 

You haven't touched him like this yet. He's the one who’s been doing all the touching. You just remember feeling his taut muscles against your palms as he was kissing you senseless. But no light touches, no teasing. How will he react further? 

Your digits circle the loop of one of his earrings and, as you drop your hand, you let the tip of your nails lightly scratch his neck. He hisses with a deep inhale as he grabs your hand mid-air, to stop you. “Yes, like that. It works.”

You got under his skin. 

It's not just you who gets affected by light touches, you can bend him to your will, though you doubt very much he'll ever let you do it. 

You resume your walk, but he doesn't let go of your hand. You're too afraid to ask if it's real or fake, but since you both used the signal now, it must be fake. 

It's his turn to speak but he doesn't seem willing at all. “Law you don't have to share. Maybe it's something you don't want to say to your girlfriend, it's okay. I'm sure your own family understands how hard it is for you. I would understand too, if this were real.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze and he lets out a deep breath and a slight nod. 

Your walk continues in peaceful silence for a while. 

“Both my parents were doctors. They were wonderful parents, full of life.” The crease in the middle of his brows is there again, but so is a very tender, longing smile. “I had a younger sister, too. She was very bright and happy.”

Had? Has she passed too? You feel your heart sinking as he continues his story. 

“There was a fire, a house fire, something completely accidental. They all died. I was with uncle Cora, he and Doffy were my mother's siblings.” He stops speaking, his jaw clenches and you can feel sweat in his hand. It's the most out of control you've seen him until now and yet, he still seems collected and cool. “That's the gist of it. I moved in with my uncles and the rest is history.”

He has shared the rest with you. About how kind and amiable Cora is and how ruthless and powerful Doffy is. He doesn't seem to fear Doflamingo, it's a lingering respect. But what you sense most when he speaks of him is disgust or resentment. So you realise that he hasn't told you the whole story. There's more to learn about Trafalgar Law. Maybe not about his parents or their death - that seems pretty straightforward - but perhaps some other interactions he's had with Doflamingo while growing up. 

He doesn't share and you don't press. If he doesn't feel the need for you to know, it's because it's something he wouldn't share lightly. 

“I'm so sorry.” You mutter as you squeeze his hand again. 

A few moments pass in silence again and you discard your empty coffee cups in a trash can along the path. The car is in sight and Law's phone tells him it's fully charged so you're ready to go. 

“Oh, Law?” He stops near the car to stare at you. “How long should we say we've been dating? It's a pretty important question we need to know. And if it's true, maddening love, we need to have had some time to let it mature and-...”

“Two months. I met you around two and a half months ago. I don't need much more time than that to realise you're special and you're someone I want to be with.” He shrugs as if he's said the most natural thing in the world and opens the car door for you, waiting for you to get inside before closing it. 

You can't help but notice that he didn't touch your earrings when he said that. 

-*-

Ever since you left the freeway and the GPS timer keeps getting smaller as you approach your destination, Law has been quieter. The flirtatious, teasing demeanour he uses with you has been completely replaced by his normal stoic expression. The crease in his forehead deepens as you approach Donquixote’s household. 

You try to engage in small talk, but the only response you get are grunts and nods, so you don't press further. He blasts his music and you don't complain. It might be his way of coping. If it were you in his shoes, you know you'd be close to a panic attack by now, but he's pretty composed, considering. 

Only someone who's spent time with him, getting to know him, learning his little tells, can realise he's upset, anxious and nervous. You know his uncle will pick it up immediately. 

Law takes a deep sigh as the GPS announces the destination and stops the car in front of a large gate, near the intercom, waiting to be buzzed inside. You look at him, placing your hand on his leg because he's gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are almost white. 

“Hey, I've got you.” You mimic the words he used on you when he was operating on Shanks. His gaze softens and he breathes deeply, his shoulders relaxing a bit as the gates open wide. 

Your eyes dart around in awe. You see a grand mansion at the end of the road, but the way there is adorned with trees and flowers of all kinds. The gardens are immense and opulent. Just like the man who owns them. You peek at the top of a few tents on the back of the house, probably where the wedding reception will take place, and the gardens are buzzing with activity. Gardeners polish the last touches on the flowers, while servants make last minute preparations for the decorations. They all seem tense, as if nothing can be out of place. 

And if Doflamingo likes control as much as Law does, then there really can't be anything out of place. 

Law parks the car as you see two blonde men at the top of the steps leading to the mansion. They're huge. Law is tall, they're taller. He inhales deeply as his eyes meet yours, a glint in them, the crease still parting his brow, and then he touches your earring. “Are you ready?”

You nod and ignore the twists and turns in your stomach, the discomposed rhythm of your heart, the many scenarios in your head where everything goes wrong. Instead, you smile brightly, repeat his gesture and squeeze his hand. “Let's sell this, Law.”

He nods and gets out of the car, you're about to do the same but discover that your door has a child lock. As Law moves around the car to open the door for you, you realise that it serves this single purpose and you can't help but to blush. In four years of your relationship, not once has Ichiji held a door open for you. In less than a week of a fake relationship, Law does it constantly. 

He holds out his hand to help you out and you smile sweetly at him, unconsciously passing a hand through your hair to straighten it as you adjust your summer dress. Cora - you assume, since you know the other man is Doflamingo - runs down the steps to greet his nephew, but slips and falls spectacularly, bumping his butt on at least three steps before landing awkwardly on his knees. 

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle a gasp and Law shakes his head as he approaches his uncle. 

“Cora… come on! Again?” He admonishes as the blonde man laughs and pats his butt. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine.” Law helps him up and both men embrace. It's a long hug during which Cora whispers something to Law, who clenches his teeth and nods, hugging him back. 

It's sweet. They really care for each other. 

Then Cora sets his eyes on you, they glimmer as he lets go of Law and with one stride, he's by your side, exclaiming your name and holding you in a tight embrace. “Welcome, welcome! It's so nice to meet you! It's been a while since Law brought a girl home!”

Oh… Interesting. He didn't mention any other important relationship, in fact, when you were covering past flings, he told you he doesn't really do the girlfriend thing. He just dates, sometimes. But he apparently had an interesting relationship before. 

However, you don't act surprised. You're pretty sure Doflamingo is watching you closely, even though he doesn't make a move to come down the steps. You'll go to him. It's as if he's the King of the mansion and you're just his loyal subjects, bowing to him. 

“I'm flattered.” You smile softly as Cora steps back. “What Law and I have is special.” This was a rehearsed phrase. But you deliver it perfectly, looking lovingly at Law, who smiles back at you, his hands in his pockets and sunglasses hanging on his shirt collar. 

“I believe you!” He grabs your arm to help you up the stairs, though you sense you'll be the one keeping him from falling, and then he turns to Law and mouths - in what he thinks is a veiled whisper but is anything but that - “She's breathtaking, Law! Well done!”

Law chuckles and shakes his head at his uncle but, as soon as you're all facing Doflamingo’s inquisitive gaze, Law tenses again. Cora leaves you to join his brother's side and Law is instantly connected to you, his hand on your waist, pulling you to him. You notice his fingers digging deeper and harder than any of the times he's grabbed you, but you don't acknowledge his discomfort. 

“Well, well, well…” Doflamingo’s voice is deep, commanding and imposing and you can't help the way your hairs bristle when he lets out a low chuckle. “Hello dearest nephew… and how interesting.”

What is supposed to be interesting? You hope he hasn't recognized you from any of the Vinsmokes’ events! Maybe you should have shared with Law who your ex was. It seems like it's something he should know. There’s no point in worrying about it now! You can't let your distress show, especially because Law keeps tensing up by your side, so you have to ground him. 

“Good to meet you, sir.” You drawl, a bit embarrassed at the way his piercing gaze hasn't left you since the moment you arrived. 

“Oh,” he chuckles again and this time looks at Law, a terrifying grin showing all his teeth. “Polite.” He nods and turns back to you, slightly raising his chin to emphasise your height difference. “Good girl.” He purrs and winks. 

What?

You immediately tense up and Law squeezes your waist harder. 

“Uncle Doffy, we're really tired from the trip and the car ride. We'll retire and freshen up before dinner. Then we can get to know each other, how about that?” You can sense a slight change in the tone of Law's voice. What was commanding and assertive is now strained and measured. The crease in his forehead is deep and his scowl twists his expression. 

“But of course! Come on, come on kids! Let me take you to your room!” Cora takes over as some servants bring in your luggage. 

Law starts to walk, dragging you with him and he brushes his lips against your temple in what's supposed to be a loving gesture. His whisper is barely audible: “Relax.” You glance behind and catch Doflamingo still tilting his head. His grin is unsettling and disconcerting and, for the first time since you agreed to do this for Law, you start to doubt yourself. “Real or not, I won't let him hurt you.”

You don't know if he means physically or mentally. Either way, you're not prepared to suffer any attempt. And the way Law says that… It's like he already knows Doflamingo will do something. And that frightens you. 

Yet you take a deep breath and try to relax as Law guides you through large maze-like corridors, following Cora until you reach a big white door with golden handles. His uncle opens the door with a smile. “Ta-da!” He exclaims, opening both arms to show you the room. 

You stifle a gasp and turn it into a surprised expression. Law squeezes you tighter and smiles at his uncle. 

“It's the honeymoon suite for you two lovebirds!” He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “Well, not quite, we're not a hotel, so it's not really a honeymoon suite, it's a room with some amenities like a jacuzzi in the bathroom and privacy from the other rooms so you can… you know,” He chuckles some more, “talk as loudly as you want without being heard.”

Law groans at his uncle but a tentative chuckle escapes your lips at his attempt to lighten the mood. Your amusement is short-lived, however, as you survey the room. It might be private and away from the other rooms, but it's not that big. There's a huge bed and two cushioned armchairs, a closet, a vanity and a desk. No couch. Just one bed. For both of you. 

At least it's a big bed. 

“Thank you, Cora. We've got it from here.” Law smiles softly at his uncle and thanks the staff who brought in your luggage. When everyone leaves, he closes the door softly, leaning against it and briefly closing his eyes. 

You take a deep breath and set your purse on one of the armchairs. “Well that was intense.” 

Law's chuckle starts low and quickly turns into a groan as he looks at you. “I'm sorry, but I can guarantee you he will be much more inconvenient.”

You snort and roll your eyes. “Is that even possible?”

“Trust me, it is.”

You both laugh away the tension of the meeting and, after a brief time, as you're hanging your dresses in the closet, you speak again. “Your uncle Cora is lovely.”

Law is in the bathroom emptying his bag of products on the counter. “He's amazing. He's like a father to me.”

“I could tell.” You mutter. “What are the plans for tonight?”

Law senses the slight tremble in your voice as his head peeks from the bathroom. “Oh? Why? Do you need to rehearse everything beforehand?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you close the closet door to face him. “Considering Doflamingo is breathing down our necks, perhaps it's not a bad idea?”

“It's just a family dinner. Baby 5 will come too, along with the groom. Possibly the groomsmen, bridesmaids and some of Doffy’s associates. I bailed on the last board meeting and I'm pretty sure he'll want to bore me to death with company issues. Also, I predict that Doffy will ask personal questions while Cora will want to know if and when we'll get married and if and when we're gonna have kids.”

Law joins you in the room and you smile at him. “Cora is really sweet.” 

Raising an eyebrow, an amused glint dances in his gaze. “Should I be jealous?” His voice drops lower and a snicker curls your lip as a consequence of that. You're feeling bratty. 

“Maybe. I do like blondes.” Law grunts, reading immediately into what you're trying to do. “And he's so tall and big. I'm sure he'd make me feel small and-...” Law takes two strides, pushing you gently and pinning you against the closet door. One of his hands rests on the closet beside your head, while the other grabs your chin tightly, tilting it up so you can meet his eyes. “Weak…” You finish your sentence, cheeks already flushed and ablaze. 

Law's eyes glint with mischief, but his lips are pursed tight. He uses the hand near your head to brush your earring. 

The signal. 

“Do I have to remind you of who you belong to?” His voice drawls from his lips, his face is so close that you can feel his hot breath against your skin. 

Your fingers graze his earring lightly to use the signal, but his low hum warns you to return your hand where it was. No teasing is allowed on your part. “I was just commenting on how handsome and charming he is. I have eyes.” You know you're playing a part, you know it's fake, but you have no audience. This is for yourselves only. And you can't help the tiny sliver of anxiety tugging at your brain, telling you to keep pushing. Push enough so you can let go. 

So you can surrender. You need to surrender.

Law's eyes darken as he presses his body closer to you. You can feel his heat  against you, but the fire in his eyes burns ten times hotter. 

“You do, but they have to be on me all the time. You don't want to misbehave, do you, sweetheart?” His lips brush the skin of your collarbone, the hand on your chin tilts your head to the side as he nibbles your jaw, his tongue wet and teasing. 

Fuck. This is what you wanted, right? Now you have to deal with it. 

“You know what happens to bad girls?” His hand lowers as he traces down the middle of your breasts, trailing to your belly, dropping down some more - so close to where you want him, but you know he won’t touch - and then settles on your hip. 

“What?” You whisper, dying to know, anticipation making you tremble and shiver. 

Or is it his touch that's doing that? 

“They don't get what they want.” His teeth graze your earlobe. “They don't get what they need.” His hand raises your dress, fingers curling the fabric as his palm settles against your thigh, eliciting a choked moan from your lips. “They don't get what they crave.” His lips hover yours and you lean forward to capture them but he moves his head back, tutting you in a disapproving manner. 

“No, no, sweetheart. No kiss for you. You're being a brat.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you squirm and press your thighs together. There's a fire burning in your belly that needs to be put out; a devastating thirst that needs quenching. 

“I can beg, Law. I can be a good girl.”

Fuck, where did this come from? 

The sound he makes is half-grunt, half-growl and it reverberates through his chest, making you gasp as you grab his neck, trying to pull him in for a kiss, trying to erase what your mouth said that your brain doesn't want to acknowledge. However, Law is faster, and stronger. His hands grab yours, pinning them above your head. One big hand of his is enough to hold your wrists, and he's barely using his strength. 

He shows you that slightly unhinged grin of his and you mewl at the sight, biting your lower lip. That grin right there, you realise, it's your favourite. “You say one thing sweetheart, and then you do another. We can't have that, can we?”

You shake your head, your eyes pleading for your mouth. Law's free hand returns to your side, he lowers it tantalisingly slowly as his thumb brushes circles on your dress, but his fingers burn so much that it's like they're pressing directly on your skin. 

“I told you that bad girls don't get rewarded.” He practically purrs against your ear. He does something sinful with his tongue on your earlobe and you close your eyes in abandon, arching your back and giving way to a wanton moan. His hand clenches your wrists tighter as his unholy tongue continues to tease you. He licks your neck and collarbone, then goes lower towards your cleavage. You can't stop the pants and gasps that escape your lips, making you tremble. 

There's a pressing need in your core screaming to be filled, or touched, or teased. Something, anything! But he's adamant about not fulfilling that need. 

“I promise I'll be good, Law.” You whisper. “Just…” Touch me. “Kiss me. Please!”

His lips hover over yours as he slots his knee between your legs. You fight the urge to ride his thigh, to grind your core against his taut muscles. You're pretty sure you could come undone from just that. “Is this what you want?” His breath is hot against your lips, his lips barely grazing yours. 

But now you know better than to push your luck. You stay still, your eyes nearly watering from the throbbing need. 

“Yes! Please.” Your whisper sounds like a prayer, but he's a relentless deity and shows it by pulling back, a smirk curling his lips. 

“You don't deserve it, sweetheart. You misbehaved. I warned you.” How can he be this cool and collected while you're falling apart? A mess of quivering bones and frail muscles? His hand grabs the back of your thigh, lifting your leg easily and slotting himself against you, giving you a taste, a sliver of the friction you want - need! “Bad girls are left wanting more.”

He presses further, his hand still groping the back of your thigh, fingers spreading over it. Your mind goes blank. You can feel his length pressed against you, you didn't think he'd do it, is this pushing your boundaries? He’s not touching you. And you want him there! Besides, this is fake. 

Right? 

But he's doing it. And you desperately want more. 

“Bad girls get teased until they can't take it any more.” He bites your lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to jolt you and shake your senses. “If this were real, sweetheart,” he begins, his voice huskier and raspier than ever, needier even, it seems. “I would bend you to my will and have you on the brink of exhaustion, pleads and prayers escaping your lips in mewls and moans, before I took you right here, against this closet, until you begged for release between screams and cries of desperation.”

The image he paints is so real that you almost feel yourself snap, the coil within you starts to unravel as he presses just a bit further, his lips hovering just above yours, his fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. 

“But this is not real, and you've been a very good girl so far.” As his lips finally crash against yours, a soft thrust of his hip pushes him against your clothed clit. The friction of the seams on his jeans hits you just right, and you snap without any kind of warning.

Your back arches and you moan into his kiss like never before as your body clenches and squirms, your leg wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. A freeing, warm sensation fills you, building like a flame, higher and higher and he takes it all. His tongue slides against yours, swallowing your moans as if he needs them to breathe. His hands grip you tight and he's still pressed flush against you. 

It's all too much. 

It's not enough. 

And it's over too soon. 

He parts the kiss and you're both left panting. Law doesn't meet your gaze as he removes his hands and composes your dress, pulling back slightly, while ensuring you can stand on your own. Clearly he overdid what he meant to do. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, worry lacing his words as you struggle to catch your breath. You should feel embarrassed. You’re in a fake relationship and yet, here you stand, in post-orgasmic bliss wondering if he regrets what just happened. But you’re not ashamed, far from it. You feel free. 

“Yes.” Your voice still comes out in shaky gasps, but your legs - though wobbly - manage to sustain you. 

Law nods and clears his throat. “I'm… I'm going to take a shower, to get ready for dinner. Unless you want to go first?”

“No, no. You go. I… I need to choose what I’ll wear first and-... you go.”

He nods, turning away from you, walking towards the bathroom, his pace more erratic than usual. 

What just happened?

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 87)

She pulled N into their apartment with a groan, having been tensely silent the entire walk, with a huff, she grabbed a sleepy Tera out of N's arms, and with a breif kiss to her delicate head, went to put her in the crib.

“What's wrong? Why’d we rush out like that?” N was right behind her, looking worried. It didn't take long for Uzi to back out of the bedroom and begin to shrug off her hoodie.

A soft blush took over his face, tail kinking up as her clothes hit the floor.

“O-Oh… Uh, R-right now?” He stammered, surely she didn't have them leave early just so that they could have some alone time? That was unlike her. Though it wasn't like the nest was much privacy lately either…

She looked at him strangly, before blushing, realizing how it looked without any context.

“N-No! Dummy, not that. Come here.” She opened her side panel, huffing again as she pulled out all the paper she was using to stop the flow of thick oil, “Eugh…” She whined as it stuck to the paper, leaving strings of oil to come off her.

“Are you bleeding?! Are you hurt?! Is the baby-” He immediately panicked, closing the distance and grabbing onto her shoulder so he could take a closer look, she grabbed the bottom of his chin to shut him up.

“No. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I think, I just need you to test something.” She hummed, pointing over to the fridge where they kept Tera's oil supply. “Get out one of Tera's filled bottles and take off the top, and bring me a empty one, please.”

He did what he was told, quickly setting out one full tiny bottle and handing her an empty one, she took a deep breath and began to fill the new one, he could already tell that this was different… she looked way less uncomfortable and more relieved.

She sat down the newly filled bottle next to the pre-filled one. And then went to go put back on her undershirt with a sigh.

“You have sensors that tell you what somethings made out of, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me the difference between the two.” She explained, pointing to the two bottles on the counter.

He flushed gold, now for a whole new reason.

“But… I'd have to taste them…”

He didn’t care about drinking his girlfriends oil with her permission, but drinking it from a bottle she'd filled with the express purpose of giving to their daughter felt wrong on so many levels.

“It's just oil. I just wanna make sure it's not unsafe for her to drink.”

“But… the human equivalent!” He whined, maybe it was his time at the manor making him feel that way, the time spent with humans making this simple act feel extremely strange.

“Then don't think about the human equivalent! There's no difference between the oil in the bottle and the oil currently keeping me alive!” She argued, and she wasn't wrong, but it didn't make him feel any different about it.

“We've shared oil before babe. It's not any different.” She said a little softer, now dressed and standing behind him, leaning on his arm.

That was true… one night, during a particularly passionate evening. A heated kiss had turned into a double bite, each other's oil pouring into their mouths. It was one of the most intimate things they'd both experienced. But this situation was entirely different.

Still… he didn't want it to be unsafe for Tera either.

He tipped the first small bottle into his mouth and it went down like a shot glass, she was right, it tasted no different then any other time he'd gotten a taste of her oil, even if he did think her’s was the best tasting.

“Just oil. Like normal.” The sensors in his mouth read out normally. 100% pure machine oil; And he made sure the taste was out of his mouth before he eyed the new one and tipped it between his lips.

It was thick and coated his throat, he made a scrunched up expression as intense sweetness spread in his mouth. His sensors got to work.

50% machine oil, 25% organic protein, 25% electrolyte solution.

He blinked.

“Uh, it's…not the same, but… nothing is being tagged as harmful, if anything it's being accepted into my system better.” He said, a little bit surprised at that fact himself.

“What is it then?”

“You want the basic answer or the complicated answer?” He asked seriously.

“Basic I guess?”

“It's oil mixed with milk.”

Uzi blinked, blushed, then looked grossed out, and then horrified.

“That's fucking gross! Are you serious?!” She whined, N nodding his head solemnly, trying to repress that fact himself considering he just drank it.

“Why am I made like this…?” She despaired, covering her visor with both hands with a sigh.

“Aaaand scoop!” In an instant, N was lifting her bridal style, taking her towards the bedroom. “It's decompress time, let's not think too hard about it!”

“I wanna go back to noooormaaaal.” She moaned, completely distraught at this new information. “I'm gross and huge and feel like garbage!”

“You're beautiful and perfect and absolutely nothing is wrong with you.” He replied, laying her on the bed with a certain kind of gentleness, pressing a kiss onto her rounded stomach.

“I don't know how you can still look at me the same way! And It's just going to keep getting worse! If this is exactly like a human pregnancy, it's not going to be 5 months, it's going to be 9! That's really close to launch day!” She went on a small, stress enduced angry rant that N just let her work through for a moment while he took his hat and coat off, replacing it with a loose fitting black shirt.

“Agh!” She finished up as N crawled into bed beside her. Resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her gently, purring.

He didn't even have to say anything anymore, all he had to do was hold her and purr and she already knew what he would say if he did grace her with his words. That she was beautiful no matter what and literally nothing could change how he felt about her, especially something as shallow as her changing appearance.

She sighed.

“I definitely don't feel it…”

He smiled and placed long, trailing kisses down her neck, still purring, now wrapping her up in his tail, his hands making feather light touches up her sides until she was shivering every time they made a pass.

“You want me to be honest?” He hummed, finally, after she started to relax and lean into his chest, basking a bit in his warmth that surrounded her own core like a warm embrace, chasing off the feeling of cold she was often left with.

“This might sound weird, but… I'm really attracted to how you look right now…” He admitted softly.

“You're just saying that…”

“No! It's true! I don't know why but… you, being like this, with our baby. You still being so wonderful with Tera… I-” He stops, embarrassed, before smiling warily “I kinda want to… do this again.”

Uzi turned onto her side to look at him, completely befuddled, though flustered, and possibly a little bit angry.

“You are not getting me pregnant again anytime soon. I will take a copy of your code and develop a special firewall for myself if I have to.” She said, being completely serious, and he smiled again.

“I figured as much.” He chuckled, leaning back into her shoulder and closing his eyes. “But you understand what I mean. I love you either way.”

She looked down at the comforter, sighing and rolling her eyes before looking back up at his soft expression, she returned it.

“Yeah… I do, I love you too, N.”

He leaned down to nuzzle her visor, a spark jumping between them as they laughed and connected their lips, enjoying the moment of privacy…

[lxmelle]

Just some thoughts on 270

Yes the end is near.

Yes I almost threw up when I saw that unmistakable hairstyle...

Yes I was a bit disappointed that there were no visible satosugu crumbs - or are there? More on this later... and the it overall just felt a little bit 😔 empty 😪

Nevertheless, I want to just blab about a few things.

First, is it Geto/Kenjaku?

If we think about how Yuta’s copy CT works, Rika would need to consume a viable part of the sorcerer. The only part of Kenny left was his whole brain. He was the brain. The rest is Geto. We have not seen any evidence of Yuta having CSM, so it can be assumed that Yuta did not have Rika eat any part of Geto. Otherwise, it’s be Geto’s CT and not Kenjaku’s body-hopping technique.

Imho: The person with Takaba is not likely to be either Kenny or Geto. Geto cannot function without a brain, there was none “spare” either, so the theory of a spirit entering the body is going to make it alive again - no, it doesn’t. There is no other living sorcerer who can do that - Ui Ui maxed it out with the number of times and there is no other person to swap with. Just. Not. Possible.

And Kenny was seen to have told Mimiko and Nanako that he took Geto’s brains out to inhabit it.

So. My conclusion is that Gege is baiting. Just as he did with the “we have to help Yuta!” And the rude yelling that got so many of us wondering just who would speak to roughly to Yuta and what warranted it. We were all asking: who calls Yuta “Yuta” and not “Okkutsu-senpai” etc. I even thought it was Shoko, assuming that Maki was in the same hallway as the others, but the main culprit was of course the most obvious, Maki herself.

And that baiting thing with the clock theory about 2:21 pm linking with chapter 221 of Gojo’s unsealing - I theorised it’s about having presence (like how spiritualists, and in Shinto, believe that spirit is all around us) despite being dead and his soul with Geto.

And goodness know what other theories there are out there about time and Gojo revival. I’ve said before that I don’t buy into it, but it is interesting.

So is it Geto? Kenjaku? I 80% think not but... yeah, I am worried. To be completely transparent, I’m so scared that it is.

Because I’m in the camp of: please please Gege, please please please let Gojo and Geto be at peace in their eternal afterlife until they’re ready to be reborn and let them find each other over and over and over again.

So rationally, I doubt it is. But I’m worried. I’m worried for reasons like: why aren’t the bodies and resting places of Gojo & Geto still not mentioned?

Next thing to I have some thoughts on are about Itafushi. They’re really good friends and I think it’s also just one of those things Gege is doing because it’s JUMP and he doesn’t want to just pretend the Hana -> Megumi thing is forgotten. It also shows some character growth.

So overall, I’m rather neutral about the Megumi + Hana thing. They’re still kids, and Yuji + Megumi are compatible but they’re also not quite Satosugu, so their relationship will be undeniably different. Friends or otherwise.

It’s nice to see the Megumi is taking initiative and finding novel ways to make new meaning & connections. I wouldn’t read too deeply into it, especially since Hana obviously read too deeply into it and got it all wrong.

I will say that it feels cliche maybe. Again it’s maybe a JUMP serialisation thing shonen mangakas do, since a big portion of the fanbase are young boys too. Gege can’t be doing too much for lgbtq+ too obviously after all.

So it leaves me feeling it is a little reminiscent of the Sasuke and Sakura pairing in Naruto - as if it could become something seemingly out of convenience/settling/making do, but what do I know? Sometimes relationships in life are like that. I’d rather marry my best friend, but you know... different strokes for different folks. As they say.

Now it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t find a way to make it about satosugu. I’m imagining collective groans from people who may be reading this... so please skip if you’re bored of me now, lol. Or read on if you like to be in satosugu delulu brainrot like me.

One of the satosugu-related takeaways from this recent chapter is that it seems to reduce the possibility of interpreting Gojo not allowing Shoko to process Geto’s body as being out of consideration for her.

Her saying that the idiot should have let her process Geto’s body pretty much says Gojo took matters into his own hands. Not only was it protocol… but she also personally thought it would be a privilege. But Gojo did not let her.

We ofc don’t know the details.

So it leaves us with: He did it for his own reasons, or reasons at least relating to Geto. Kenjaku thought it was out of consideration. And Kenjaku is not a reliable narrator, nor was Geto... who tended to think he didn’t matter.

You know, as a person who can quietly just swallow vomit and shit rags without complaint. As a person who could practically transform the filth, negativity, evil, and darkness of the world into power that he could use for good - he was vessel of sacrifice.

Anyway, I digress.

It seems to indicate that Gojo kept his body to himself ... for his own reasons, breaking protocol.

And referring back to 270 again, for Shoko to talk about the afterlife right after preparing the body -> cremation is strange. Does preparing the body and cremating it have anything to do with the afterlife? 🤔 so somehow, prepare body -> cremate -> mourn/afterlife?

Interesting in that Gege is giving us yet another example of how everyone has a different reality / belief. If we believe what we saw in Gojo’s death, then there is one and Shoko will be proven wrong when her time comes like how Gojo was wrong about dying alone.

And it is also interesting in the sense that it’s familiar…

Something about how she said prior to Gojo’s unsealing, about “I couldn’t love either of you like you loved each other, but I was there too.” - am I reading too deeply? Probably. But it’s there for me to read.

Shoko prepared Tsumiki for cremation. She was made her beautiful for the afterlife - even if she was to be cremated, there was something about giving her something (dignity?) before she turned to ash. And those left behind can send them off into the afterlife feeling they did their best.

I think you’d need a certain level of trust for someone to hand your beloved over. Or at least feel like they would mourn the departed like you would. Or faith that your beloved would be happy with entrusting you with that decision. In some cultures, the family wash and swathe their dead in cloth with their own hands where possible.

So Shoko. Shoko could do it for Geto, for Gojo. She was there. She was willing. But. It was almost as if saying that Gojo 1. could not allow someone else to prepare Geto’s body, and neither did he seem to have mourned because 2. Geto was not cremated to be sent into the afterlife. As if he didn’t trust anyone. As if he could not let go.

Again, Rika kept Yuta’s body “alive” too. Parallels are paralleling.

I don’t know how Geto regenerated or if Kenny was responsible for it. Or if Gojo somehow did. But those are just unnecessary details at this point.

And again, Shoko was there but she could not be like what Gojo was to Geto and what Geto was to Gojo.

How complicated.

I’m reminded of that scene where he says to ichiji and Shoko: “There are just 3 of us remaining huh.”

In agreement to Shoko acknowledging that Geto’s body needed retrieving from Kenjaku, it was quite a pregnant pause from Gojo before he goes, “………yeah.”

He seemed surprised Shoko brought it up and decided to just gloss over it.

To me, it collectively implies that Gojo doesn’t let Geto be anyone else’s but his.

His friendship was his one and only. His loneliness was his. His dreams were his. His love was his. His life was his. His body was... his. And his soul was his too. As was his satisfaction.

I think Gege wants us to understand something here. By what he is showing and not showing us.

If I think about the exclusivity that they shared... the whole, “we are the strongest (together)” and “it wouldn’t be bad to be killed by you” or even “I’m jealous but if you were satisfied I’m glad for you.” and then “if you were there to pat me on the back I’d be satisfied.”

It’s a lot like... only YOU can be the one. And therefore I think Gojo kept Geto all to himself. Maybe thinking Geto would only want HIM to touch his body.

It was his exclusive right. And that was mutually shared... because Geto wasn’t really pleased with Gojo getting satisfaction from elsewhere (lol, you know, the “jealous” 妬けるね that got the fandom in a frenzy).

I’ve mentioned it in another post... link: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/758015943938113536/i-love-the-idea-of-mutuality-that-is-deeply-rooted I really do like the idea of Gojo and Geto just teaching each other things. Like selfishness and love. Binding each other to the other. Selfishness and selflessness as part of being human.

Was this an act out of the side of Gojo that was “a little selfish, a little inhuman but a little too human”, and he wanted to keep Geto all to himself? Despite not giving his best friend a proper burial?

When I think about how he normally did what Geto approved of (you can dispute this if you wish) and I think back to how he might’ve really given Geto’s body back to his family- but what we saw in the manga seemed like they didn’t have much involvement either. Surely they’d have wanted Geto cremated?

So it leaves me with the idea that it was Gojo acting out his secret feelings.

Just Gege and how he shields Gojo’s privacy. Secret words. Secret thoughts. You know. Gege being Gege letting Gojo do Gojo things.

I think we might need to accept that Gojo and Geto just have this exclusive thing we aren’t privy to.

That’s all for now. Abrupt ending 🫡

Thanks for reading my rambling if you made it this far 🫶

Feel free to share your thoughts/comments/criticisms 😄

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

00.3. your last day with quinn

➴ warnings: mention of a restrictive diet, constipation.

➴ word count: 1.7k

➴ author’s note: this was supposed to be a cute, hurt/comfort chapter but. i listened to madison beer while writing this so things took a turn and now it’s just depressing. at least there’s still some hurt/comfort here :,)

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2017, SEPTEMBER.

YOU were having the worst day ever.

It was a Friday, and one of those days where anything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. First, you woke up at half-past five with a fever that made your entire body shiver. Your pajama was glued to your body, sticky with sweat. You sat on the bed, immediately regretting it because your head started spinning and suddenly you needed to throw up everything you’d eaten for dinner last night.

You felt like shit even when you managed to shower, sitting on your bathtub and letting the tears fall from your face. You felt so tired. It had already been a very stressful week, with your Mom forcing you to attend castings and auditions, making calls here and there so you could get the jobs she wanted for you, controlling everything you ate and drank.

On top of all of that, Peter and Quinn were leaving for college and you were sure you had never felt so alone before.

Quinn became your favorite person in the entire world when you both met four years ago. He was so important to you, and even though sometimes your heart didn’t understand what exact feelings you had for him, you needed him in your life.

The friendship you’d built over the past four years meant the world to you. How he took care of you, and how he tried to balance his career with still trying to be present in your life. How he would always ask about how you were doing in school, or about your dreams and wants. How he had introduced you to his family and how Jim and Ellen were nice to you, letting you come over to do your homework with Jack or Luke.

How sometimes you’d find Quinn practicing in their homemade ice rink, and you’d watch him for hours, impressed by his moves and skills. How sometimes you’d notice his hair falling out of the helmet, the sweat decorating his face and his blue, greenish eyes that would stare at nothing but the puck.

So when you found out he was leaving for Michigan? It hurt more than anything else, even if you were extremely happy for him.

You got out of the shower, feeling your body hurt everywhere. You were thankful that your classes didn’t start until next week and you didn’t have any auditions today so you could just jump right back in your bed.

Which was exactly what you did, sleeping like the dead after letting your tears fall for a bit more.

You woke up a few hours later, with a soft touch on your arm. Opening your eyes and immediately feeling them getting wet, you saw Quinn standing beside your bed.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he said, smiling. “Maria let me in. You didn’t come say goodbye to me.”

Your sick, tired brain took a little while to process what he was saying. Until you looked at the digital clock that sat on your bedside table, reading 11:34 a.m., Friday, 6 September.

Fuck.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You were still shivering underneath the covers and your throat hurt.

“Maddie?” You could see he had stopped smiling.

You tried to smile, feeling the need to reassure him. “I’m sorry. I forgot to set an alarm,” you lied, trying to get up again and, thankfully, succeeding this time. “I’ll be downstairs in just a minute. Sorry.”

Getting up didn’t exactly mean success, since your legs failed after five steps and now you were on the floor, with your knee hurting like a bitch.

“Maddie, what,” Quinn said, quickly coming to your rescue, like he often did. You had a headache? Quinn had the right medicine for it. You hurt your finger? Quinn wrapped your hand with a bandage. You were hungry? Quinn was already in the kitchen making your meal. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“No, just— I just woke up.” You didn’t know why you kept lying to him and you felt like shit, but it was his leaving day. The Hughes were moving back to the US, so that Jack and Luke could join the NTDP in Michigan and Quinn could go to UMich. And it couldn’t get worse, not really. “I’m fine.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Madison,” he hissed, angrily. You frowned. Quinn had never gotten angry at you, not even when you managed to ruin his hockey uniform with glitter. “You’re sick. Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, as he walked you to bed again. “I am fine, Quinn. It’s just constipation or whatever.”

“Stop acting like this is nothing, Madison.”

“Stop calling me that,” you frowned, annoyed for no real reason. You were going to miss them so much.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whispered, feeling your eyes tearing up again, the fever making you shiver.

He stopped scowling for a second, softening his eyes at you. He sat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh, which you promptly grabbed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s just— I hate when you act like what happens to you isn’t important.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling less cold now.

“You’re like my little sister, so watching you sick is just as upsetting as it is with Lukey or Jack,” he chuckled, laughing like he hadn’t just shattered your feelings right there.

You didn’t know exactly what you felt for him, but you knew for a fact it wasn’t that silly admiration you had for him when you were little. You were fifteen now, and just when you were supposed to crush on the boys at your school, you were always comparing them to Quinn instead. And Quinn is always better than them.

Not to mention that he’d been getting cuter. He was losing his teenager features and it didn’t help it with your little infatuation for him.

Hearing him confirming that you were nothing but a family member to him stung. This was definitely the worst day of your life.

“Right,” you whispered, releasing his hand and wrapping your arms around your body. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go downstairs and say bye to you all. I’m sorry for that.”

“We’re only leaving at night so don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re feeling better until then.” He replied, getting up.

“Where are you going?” You asked, confusion taking over your face.

“I’m gonna ask Maria to make some soup for you while I go look for some cold medicine,” he put his hands inside his jeans pockets, something he did often, and smiled at you. “Do you think you’ll be fine here for ten minutes?”

You nodded, watching as he poked your cheek before leaving your room.

You laid down for a while, trying to organize your thoughts. You still didn’t understand what the Hughes leaving meant to you, only that you’d miss them like they were your own. Because for a while, that’s what they were.

You must have snoozed again because next thing you know, Quinn was shaking you lightly again. You opened your eyes, staring at him.

“Maria made you chicken noodle soup and I brought you juice and pills,” he pointed at the tray on your desk, smiling.

You got up, sitting up against the headboard, and thanking him as he placed the tray on your lap.

“Mom would probably kill me if she knew I’m eating noodles,” you joked, coughing loudly. Ugh.

“I won’t tell her a thing, promise,” he quickly said, sitting on the chair beside your desk, resting his hands on his knees, as he watched you eat. “Can’t believe we’re actually leaving.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You will come to visit us, right?”

You placed your spoon inside your bowl again, staring at Quinn’s face, trying to memorize all of his features at once. His upper lip, slightly thinner than his bottom one. His wavy, brown hair, messy and untamed, so beautifully shaped. His eyes, darker than Luke and Jack’s, but still bright and vibrant. His nose, big and cute and your favorite feature on his face.

Oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“‘Course I will,” you mumbled, shoving the last spoonful of soup into your mouth. Lying to Quinn always felt wrong. “I’m… I’m gonna miss you,” His eyes softened, and before he could speak, you continued. “You made my life so much easier. You and your family are so important to me so thank you.” You felt your eyes watering, and you looked up. No crying in front of anyone.

“Oh, Maddie,” he got up, removing the tray from your lap and putting it back on your desk, so he could sit beside you. “There’s no need for tears.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and tell him you’re okay but you only managed to let more tears fall from your eyes.

He placed your head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket until it reached your chin, covering you completely. Then, he gently grabbed your hand underneath and held it tightly.

“I’ll be only an one hour flight away, Maddie. Our house is your house too.”

You sniffled, feeling your body starting to hurt again.

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t want him to leave, that you needed him in your life and that you loved him. A young, unripe love that made your chest hurt every time you thought about it.

But you knew that you were just being selfish. Ever since you met him, you knew Hockey was his life. It is his favorite thing in the world, and it means a lot to them.

So you would never tell him anything. No. At least one of you deserved to be happy.

“I know,” you mumbled. “Can I take a nap?”

He chuckled beside you. “Yeah, ‘course. Not before you take your medicine though.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the rest of your face under the cover, hearing Quinn’s soft laugh.

Little did you know you’d keep that sound safe and secure in your heart, for the rest of your life.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 5- Epilogue

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N and Oscar are just happy being together. They enjoyed the time they got to spend together.

Over all just fluff.

Y/N and Oscar enjoyed the time between the end of the previous season and the start of the next. Both of them would follow each other around like lost puppies through out the day. Just as the holidays were coming to an end for Y/N, Oscar too had to leave for pre-season training, reluctantly. They would call each other and sometimes Y/N would send him packages and Oscar would send her packages and then the two of them would open them up on video calls.

Oscar really wanted her to come to the first race of the season, which was not possible at all due to her academic year being in full swing. Luckily, she didn't particularly need time off to be at his home race. The Australian GP couldn't come any sooner. Oscar did fly in earlier then usual. Y/N was there to pick him up at the airport since he did fly in super late. "You have a thing for making sure I don't get any sleep" she commented as Oscar climbed into the passenger seat. "I have other ways of keeping you up" he laughed. She just shook her head as she started driving.

They spent the next few days together, Oscar was on a strict diet; so Y/N found great joy in being able to cook for him and having at home dates. They would watch some silly shows and lay awake wrapped in each others arms. "I might have done some shopping" she said randomly. "Doesn't sound like it's a good thing" he said skeptically. "It is a good thing. I bought a dress in your god awful team colour and surprisingly I look good in it. So, I'll be wearing that with a 81 head band to the race." she said proudly. "Where did you get the 81 head band from?" he chuckled. "I made it myself, you'll see" she said kissing his lips. "If this is your way of bribing me, I'll take more" he said. "I'm not bribing you, I did a quiz and my love language is physical touch apparently" she said. "What's mine?" he asked. "Gift giving and physical touch, I think" she said. "I will not be denying that" he smiled.

Y/N accompanied him on quali day, the pair walked hand in hand to the paddock. The camera flashing rapidly to catch their moment together, Y/N was wearing Oscar's papaya jersey, a big smile on her face as she walked in. Oscar found great joy in dragging Y/N around with him. He would introduce her to his team with the biggest smile they had seen on Oscar. Lando had stopped teasing them, since Oscar started to enjoy it too much much to his dismay.

Oscar qualified P6, Y/N was cheering for him as always. It was a warm feeling racing in his home and having all the people that love and support him there. Y/N was wearing an papaya dress with the 81 head band that she knit. The fans loved her outfit and wanted their own 81 headbands. The race was quite eventful, Oscar finished just out of the podium but Y/N celebrated his finish like it was a podium. They spent the night together with their family, laughing and talking about random things and reliving old memories of all the times each of them found out Oscar had a crush on Y/N. It was a good time at Oscar's expense. "Last year, I wouldn't have thought I would get just outside of a podium in my home race or you for that matter" he whispered with his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood there watching everyone. "Well, you've improved." she smiled pecking his cheek. "I love these improvements" he smiled. "Can't wait to watch you win a race honestly" she stated. "I love you babe" he whispered. "I love you too, Osc." she whispered back. "I'm gonna have to ask Lando to stop calling me Osc, it feels weird" he stated. "He says it with love. It's cute honestly. I would also like to ask you to look at me with the same amount of love you look at Lando with" she chuckled. "I look at you with love, Lando it's shock" he said shaking his head.

Oscar's birthday was the day after the Japanese GP. They couldn't spend it together so Y/N sent him a package as a little gift; just some stuff from home and the customary birthday wishes. Oscar wasn't very happy about spending his birthday alone this year, but it's the nature of the sport. He wasn't able to fly in for her birthday either since he had another race weekend. So, they FaceTimed each other with a small cake and blew out candles while on call. Y/N had gotten him a wallet with their initials engraved on it which Oscar carried around with great pride. Y/N had gotten a necklace with an O. You could pass that necklace off as anything but she found a lot of happiness in telling anyone who asked that it was her boyfriend's initial.

During her time off she would fly to Oscar, they would spend all their time together either cuddling in the hotel room or exploring the city. Oscar would love to have her at race weekends but they never coincided with her time off. The fans had started to notice him hanging out with the girl who had the 81 headband and deduced that they were dating as if Oscar wasn't obvious enough.

Oscar winning his first Formula One race was a big thing but sadly Y/N wasn't there to celebrate with him. Instead he flew back to Australia even if only for a few days before he would have to fly back for the last race before the summer break. Back home, he was met with a lot of celebrations. Y/N spent her whole time showering Oscar in praises after his first win. Oscar couldn't help but bask in her praises forgetting the ordeal following his first win.

Y/N was very observant, she noticed when Oscar would wince or hiss quietly when some one would hug him or touch him. He made a conscious effort not to slip up when Y/N was touching him but she caught on and cornered him just like the time Oscar caught her topless when they were teens. "Piastri what's wrong?" she asked, voice laced with concern. "Nothing right now, but you look very hot cornering me. We might have a problem now" he said placing his hands on her waist and leaning closer. She took his hands off her waist and placed them on either side of him, effectively pinning him. "Babe, my mum's 2 feet away" he whispered. "I know, something's wrong and you won't tell me" she questioned further. "Nothing's wrong" Oscar replied trying to lighten the mood but Y/N wasn't buying it. He could easily over power her but he liked the situation he was in. "You've been hissing and wincing in pain since you've been back. I know you're hurt. Tell me where or I will not be kissing or touching you for the foreseeable future." she stated. Oscar knew he couldn't lie to her, she would figure it out, sooner or later. "I fractured my rib before the race" he said. "What" she almost screamed, carefully placing his hands down. "How? You raced? Why didn't you tell me or us?" she barraged him with questions. "It just happened but the medical team cleared me. I'm good and with a bit of rest I'll be as good as new" he said. "What rest? You plan on racing the next race. You didn't tell anyone. It's like you don't need us" she lamented. "I'm perfectly fine now. Don't worry about me" he said cupping her cheeks and pressing a kiss. "Well, it's my second nature to worry, you can't stop me" she announced. "I won't. I love it when you worry about me actually" he gloated. "You will be punished. I'm not touching you until you're fully healed. I heard rib fractures hurt a lot. So, you're on bed rest while you're in Melbourne" she stated. "What? NO! You can't deprive me" he groaned. "I can and I will. Just be grateful I'm not announcing this to the whole family" she tsked and walked away.

Oscar was babied and made to rest by Y/N. She found a way to avoid telling everyone what happened until Oscar would himself. Which he did after the summer break started. His parents were disappointed him but more concerned. Y/N apologised to hiding it since she didn't want to worry them as well.

They spent the summer break lounging around their house or going out to eat. They would catch up on movies and trying out new foods. Oscar had been thinking, he thought about it quite a lot especially when they would be grocery shopping together or he would see her interact with kids or when she would joke with his family or when she would fret over him; that he was ready. He was ready to settle down if it was with her. He wanted everything; a family, a house, kids, the whole nine yards. Oscar might have jumped the gun and bought a ring. He couldn't wait; these could be place holders till she picked one out she liked. He had gotten them his and her bands; they looked a lot like wedding bands. He carried those around for a while, not knowing when to ask and that's how the summer break ended and he would be back racing.

They spent their first anniversary at home while Y/N cooked for Oscar and make him rest. He was on a sex ban because of the rib fracture. No matter how much he tried to reason with her, Y/N wasn't about to budge. Oscar was like a piece of glass and Y/N was too scared to touch him lest she hurt him. Oscar got them his and her matching watches since he wasn't sure he had the guts to propose to her. She got him matching sweaters that she knit and a belt with her initials. "Are you trying to brand me?" he asked looking at the sweater with a big first initial of his girlfriend and the belt too. "I would ask you to get my name tattooed but let's wait for the second anniversary before be pull that" she laughed. "Plus people should know who you belong too" she said. "I think they know, I only talk about cars and you" he said solemnly. "I'm honoured that Mr Piastri talks about something other than cars" she smiled. "I can talk about you all the time. Cars aren't my only interest" he quipped. "Glad to know I don't have to compete with your love for cars like when you were 4" she chuckled. "Cars could never compete with you" he whispered snaking his arms around her waist trying to pull her onto his lap. She carefully pushed him away. "Nope. I'm not falling for this. You are on strict bed rest" she reprimanded. Oscar groaned "Ugh, this stupid rib." "I'm all yours once you're healed" she said pecking his cheeks and getting up to clean up the mess of wrappers they made.

Y/N finally had time off and she was able to fly to Azerbaijan. She had the two weeks off from school and spending time with Oscar was the only thing on her mind. Who would've thought? Okay, Y/N did think. She had maybe hoped Oscar would win since he was starting P2 in the race. Until the very end, you couldn't say much. It was during the last laps; Y/N felt it; watching Oscar zip past, that he might win and he did. She was crying; she couldn't be there for his first win but she was there now. Oscar got out of the car and rushed to his family. He hugged his mother and turned his attention to Y/N who had tried to fix her make up before she came since she had been crying. "I'm so happy you're here to see me win" he whispered in her embrace. "I'm happy I get to share this with you" Oscar pulled away and kissed her and Y/N melted right into his lips. She squished his cheeks deepening the kiss. They pulled away breathless, "I love you so much" he whispered. "I love you too Oscar" she whispered back. "Marry me" he blurted out. "You're not proposing right now, like this" she had started to cry. "Go on, we'll talk later" she said quietly.

Oscar was back in the drivers room with Y/N sat looking solemn. "Sorry about that. I knew this wasn't a good idea" Oscar lamented. "No no, babe. I meant it like you can't be proposing to me in that moment since it was your moment. It was yours and only yours" she explained. "It was ours baby, I've been thinking and I wanna marry you" he stated. "Osc, sweetheart, we're so young. We started dating just over a year ago." she began. "I've loved you for more than half my life. I think I know if I want to marry you or not" he interrupted. "As much as I hate to admit it, I would marry you right now, if I could" she chuckled. "Yay" he laughed. He opened up the red velvet box he had and 2 identical rings were shining back at them. "These look like wedding bands" she couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe" he stared at the box and than her. "You can pick whatever ring you would like. I didn't want to choose something you wouldn't like" he explained. "You know what I like" she said. "I'm not that confident" he said. "Well, I love you and anything you pick, I would love that too" she smiled at him. Oscar felt like he would turn into mush.

At the Singapore GP, the two of them were spotted with their rings. The media and fans were speculating whether they had a shot gun wedding. Oscar found great joy in calling Y/N, Mrs Piastri. But later, his mum did tell everyone that they hadn't indeed gotten married and those were engagement rings because her son was a big sap.

Oscar stared at their hands as they lay in bed entangled in each other, her hand on his chest and his wrapped around her. If you told 13 year old Oscar that he would be laying in bed with his crush he would've laughed at you, but 23 year old Oscar was lying in bed with the love of his life. Oscar wouldn't have it any other way. If you had told Y/N that the annoyingly quite and mature kid her brother befriended would be the man she planned on marrying, she would call you delusional but right now everything felt like a blissful dream that she would like to never wake up from. The two of them were happy in each others arms, away from the world.

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Love Sea Excerpt: Tongrak and Mahasamut's First Time (Ch 5: The Price I Paid)

"Haha," Mahasamut couldn't help but chuckle.

He felt crazy watching someone work, especially since that person wasn't even acknowledging him.

I gave him such a wonderful service, and he didn't even like it. That hurts.

Mahasamut thought, and laughed out loud.

"Quiet, I'm working."

But then, the man who'd been silent for so long spoke calmly without even turning to look at him. The sound of the keyboard continued, causing Mahasamut to pause mid-laugh, even as his lips curled into a wide smile.

He's quite charming in his working mode.

The still, solemn demeanor and focus that seemed to belong to a completely different person only piqued his interest further, making him want to see more of Tongrak's emotions. But he figured he should probably keep quiet if he didn't want to be kicked out of the room.

The thought made his sharp eyes fixate on the fair neck reddening from sunburn, the fair skin smeared with sand from the beach. But the man himself didn't seem to care. Perhaps only he couldn't help but think about how he wanted to bite into that man's neck, and the taste that he'd savored earlier confirmed just how sweet that fair skin was.

Looking any longer might not be a good idea.

It looked like his VIP guest was alright. He was in a hurry to get back to work and leave his little buddy to wither away. Mahasamut shrugged and looked down at his own body, which was initially soaked with seawater but now almost dry, except for the sand covering him. He decided to get up and head to the bathroom.

Just a quick rinse. The room's owner probably wouldn't mind.

---

---

Mahasamut had barely disappeared into the bathroom when the sound of water hitting the tiled floor echoed out. However, what brought the man in front of the screen back to reality wasn't the sound of water, but the last sentence he typed to finish the chapter he'd left.

He'd solved the problem of how to describe the love in this story.

"Phew," and with that, Tongrak let out a sigh of relief.

While the famous writer Tongrak had many romantic works, few knew that he struggled with writing love scenes, and his solution to the problem was... having sex.

Sometimes, it couldn't be solved with just a warm embrace.

But most of the time, that wasn't very effective. Connor was one of the people whose embrace felt warm to Tongrak, but the problem was that he already had a boyfriend. When stuck or when he couldn't grasp the concept of warmth or love, he'd just go to his best friend, snuggle into his embrace, and some ideas would start to flow. But now, that was no longer an option.

And yes, one of the reasons he agreed to go to this island was because... he was tired of the men in the city.

It was so dull that he thought of changing the scenery for his work.

And then he met...

Tongrak turned to glance at the slightly ajar bathroom door.

After completely ignoring the other person in the room, Tongrak saved his work and shut down his laptop. From slow steps, his pace quickened. He pushed the bathroom door open with force and saw a robust, naked figure standing under the rain shower. Thick, wet hair clung to his cheeks, and one hand braced against the wall while the other cradled... his substantially sized shaft.

As those sharp, intense eyes met him, the cascading water made the man look even more dominant, magnifying his dangerous allure.

The man's expression shifted from fierce to his usual teasing smirk.

Mahasamut didn't even care that Tongrak was now inspecting his impressive lower half.

Tongrak secretly thought the guy must be well-endowed, but he hadn't expected it to be this impressive.Whether it was the size or the shape, the veins that stood out from arousal, it was all something he wanted to look at.

"If you keep staring like that, I'm going to start charging," came the teasing voice, drawing honey-colored eyes back to meet his gaze.

Mahasamut wasn't shy about showing off his body.

The guy was so confident that it was almost sickening.

"Usually, when the money's in, you can consider it done. I already gave you a service, and yet here you are, watching my body for free. I'm running at a loss here..."

Thud!

Tongrak didn't wait for the man to finish speaking. His lead body pushed the broad chest until it hit the wall, also bringing himself under the shower. The slender frame pressed close to the broad chest, allowing the sensitive part beneath his pants to press against the hot flesh, feeling the heat between them, and then...

Tongrak swiftly captured Mahasamut's neck and kissed him fiercely.

A tongue licked teasingly over the irritating lips. Tongrak bit down on the lower lip hard enough to almost taste blood. After that, the pretty one pulled back to look into his eyes.

"How much?"

"..."

Mahasamut remained silent. The only sound was that of water droplets hitting the tiled floor.

"How much for letting me see your body just now?"

"..."

"And how much to sleep with you?"

"..."

"How much would it cost for you to take me?"

"..."

Tongrak then asked the final question.

"So, what's your price if I want to buy you?"

Their gazes locked, neither willing to back down.

Strangely, this time, Tongrak didn't have a hint of his usual complaining demeanor. There was only a serious look in his eyes, like a businessman negotiating a deal.

Yet, this seriousness was... sexy.

The once arrogant man was now eagerly seeking an answer to how much it'd cost to be 'taken'.

"... I'm not cheap, you know." Mahasamut finally replied after a long stare, and that turned the serious businessman into a man of passion.

"Money won't be a problem."

At Tongrak's words, it wasn't just one of them who moved first, but both of them closed the distance as if they'd been waiting for this moment all along.

Lips crushed and ground against each other.

Bodies moved close, leaving no space between them.

Hands intertwined, caressed, and stroked each other without restraint.

It was Mahasamut's turn to flip Tongrak's body, pressing him against the wall while his hot mouth continued to suck hungrily and nip. His tongue invaded deeply, tormenting the other without pause for breath, sweeping and pursuing, attacking and pressing until clear liquid seeped and smeared at the corners of their mouths. The sound of their sweet exchange echoed loudly.

The big man pulled away briefly to strip Tongrak's shirt while Tongrak himself quickly discarded his pants with a swift flick.

"Ah, ha... oh, that's good... so good..."

With just a large hand scooping up the pale leg to bring their lower bodies into close contact, Tongrak moaned in satisfaction. He enjoyed the sensation of his sensitive parts rubbing against the larger, hotter area, the scorching heat nearly burning his flesh at the lower abdomen. He liked it so much that he wanted to pull that large part into his mouth.

But today, Mahasamut had other ideas.

"Hold this for me."

Mahasamut grasped Tongrak's hand, pulling it to hold the heated flesh that throbbed between them. Tongrak complied easily, but a single hand wasn't enough to contain them both. Both hands worked together to gather their moist parts, pressing his palm against the visibly larger and longer part of Mahasamut. His hips moved with desire, hot breaths touching the broad chest.

Wide eyes shimmered with emotion, and skin flushed from pale to a spreading red that reached the ears. Now, a hot tongue traced and nipped at his fair skin.

"Ah! You really like to bite, huh? Were you a dog in a past life or something?"

It was then that the larger man used his free hand to grasp the slender neck, tilting the flushing face upward, allowing him to bury his face into the crook of a fair neck. He licked at the marks left by previous bites, eliciting a hoarse moan from Tongrak, who couldn't help but ask, even as he was nearly delirious with... excitement.

He liked it when Mahasamut did this to him, bit him like this, nipped him like this.

It wasn't so violent that it hurt, but it was enough to make his body scream with pleasure.

Mahasamut's gaze flickered for a moment, and Tongrak was certain he saw a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Then...

"Woof."

The big man let out a sound that should have been endearing, but it made Tongrak cry out as a tingling sensation spread through him.

The giant dog, burying its face against the slender chest with just the right amount of muscle, licked the tender nipple that stood erect with a flick of his tongue as if savoring a delicious sweet.

Mahasamut alternated between biting and smoothing with licks, repeating the motion until the area felt numb and swollen, the nipples turning a bright red. The voice grew higher with every moan, hips moving, calling for their flesh to rub together.

Now, it was impossible to tell whose slick fluid filled the palm of Tongrak's hand.

"Mahasamut, suck, suck more, ugh, ah, that's good."

Since he'd already given in, why hide his desires any longer?

When Tongrak played with himself, he enjoyed teasing his nipples hard while slipping a fingertip into his behind, stimulating both above and below. Although it was exceedingly rare for him to be without a partner, what he truly relished was the way Mahasamut would incessantly suck and pull at his nipples as if insatiable.

It was a delicious torment, almost maddeningly good.

Meanwhile, a large hand caressed his back, kneading the soft flesh until fingertips sank into the smooth skin, a touch that made the more prominent man want to squeeze even harder.

"Ah..."

If it were just about thoughts, it wouldn't be Mahasamut. As soon as those sharp eyes saw the person in his embrace pushing his body against him, the adorable body trying to grind him like an animal in heat, the beautiful face flushed red, breathing heavily, sweat glistening across the forehead, he too moved the hand that wasn't busy to turn off the water and back to firmly clench the round buttocks.

It was enough to make Tongrak moan with a trembling voice.

"Play with my insides... do it..."

Just the touch of a fingertip teasing the tender passage he'd been playing with earlier caused it to clench, and the person in his embrace begged with a quivering voice, eyes moist as they looked up at him until...

"Uhh..." their lips met with precise heat.

A fervent kiss that escalated the passion to its peak while the adorable person before him pleaded even more.

"Uhh..."

Mahasamut felt the trembling moan in the other's mouth as soon as his fingertip teased the sweet passage. The suction that seemed to invite him in nearly drove him wild, unable to resist until...

His middle finger slid in as the person in his embrace widened his eyes, writhing, gasping for air close to his lips.

Now, Mahasamut wasn't just growling but roaring.

Who gave your body permission to be this sexy, Mr. Writer?!

Now the soft walls were clenching around his long finger, the searing heat gripping tightly, sucking eagerly just like the person in his embrace, as the long finger curled inward, seeking the spot that made the more petit person in his arms twitch.

"Ah, ahh, uhh, ugh..."

As soon as his lips were free, Tongrak let out a trembling moan, his eyes tightly shut, indulging in the sensation of the probing touch moving in and out of his passage.

Seeing that Tongrak could handle it, a second finger soon followed.

"You are really something," Mahasamut growled.

"Why, am I... sexy... or something...?"

The sexy one squinted his eyes open and licked his own lips fervently, his gaze narrowing, but only for a moment, as the two long fingers stirring inside him that initially stuck close together were now... parting.

"Ah, ah, don't, don't- Mahasamut-ah, ah!"

Damn it!

There were a few times when Mahasamut lost his patience, especially with the pretty man before him, biting his lips and moaning unintelligibly, was clenching around his fingers, forcing him to pull his hand out of that soft channel in one swift motion. He flipped the smooth body to face the wall, his strong knees pushing the slender legs to spread wide.

"Put it in!"

Meanwhile, the small body cried out passionately for the loss of the hot part, disliking the sudden emptiness.

He liked how Mahasamut spread his fingers, liked the thrilling discomfort, liked the tightness that almost split him open, liked the long fingers reaching spots he couldn't reach himself. It was enough to make him beg for the other person to tease his sensitive passage once more.

"!"

But at the sound of his plea, Mahasamut would forcefully push three fingers in all at once. It was fierce, raw, merciless to the point of taking Tongrak's breath away. His legs trembled, his hands braced against the wall, his breaths coming in short gasps, unable to contain the rising desire that edged him to the brink.

"Ah, ahh!"

The long fingers almost completely withdrew, then... slammed back in.

Each time, they hammered insistently at that sensitive spot, bringing him close to the edge, his tender part stubbornly releasing drops of fluid.

Mahasamut couldn't take it anymore either.

He wanted to thrust himself into that sweet, inviting hole so badly.

"Condom."

"Hah... in the bag."

No need for further questions. They understood each other well, and then...

Mahasamut yanked Tongrak's arm, pulling him back into the bedroom, pushing the smooth body to fall onto the bed while he himself walked over to the open suitcase.

"The front one," Tongrak called out with a trembling voice.

The tall figure took only a few seconds to find the box of condoms that had... every size imaginable.

Mahasamut quickly grabbed one that fit him, but as soon as he turned back...

He felt the urge to spank a petite body.

Who'd have thought that Mr. Perfect, someone like Tongrak, would be on all fours on the bed, legs spread wide, hands bracing against the soft mattress, exposing every inch of his bare body, even the twitching tightness that was eagerly awaiting?

"Hurry, Mahasamut, hurry," the slender figure urged with a quivering, breathy voice, legs spreading even wider.

Smack!

"Did you just spank... Ahhh!"

Tongrak was about to curse in shock when suddenly, a large hand slapped his soft buttocks. But before he could finish his sentence, the sting from the slap was nothing compared to the intense heat that was pushing in, making him feel unbearably full, almost bursting at his very core.

"Wait!! Wait! You're too big, you... ugh!"

The deep penetration brought tears to the brink of his eyes. His fair hands reached for the strong thighs in an attempt to restrain, but it only spurred the larger man to thrust deeper, causing Tongrak to clutch the sheets, his face digging into the soft mattress, his breaths echoing throughout the room.

It was so tight.

"Can you take it?"

"I don't know, Mahasamut. I don't know, ah!"

At this point, he knew nothing, his mind was completely blank.

But when Mahasamut moved...

"!"

A scream tore from Tongrak's throat at full volume.

The initial pain from the size was immense, but it also meant there wasn't an inch left untouched, not a space left unfilled. Every craving, every tingling sensation shot straight through his chest with each hot thrust... deep... into the deepest part.

"Ah, ugh, huuuh!"

Now, within the luxurious room, there were only the moans and low growls of two men, mingling with the raw sound of flesh against flesh in a strong rhythm. The temperature in the room soared, rendering the air conditioning useless, but why would Mahasamut care when the sight before him was far more captivating?

The stark white expanse of a handsome man's back stretched out before him, beads of sweat seeping out until the hair at the nape of his neck was damp against the smooth skin. Large hands pressed into that back, urging the other to let himself fall flat against the bed, with only the beautiful arch of his hips raised high, allowing him to indulge his desires.

It was so enticing that Mahasamut leaned down to lick the sweat at that smooth neck, something he had longed to do.

"Ugh!"

"Huh, ugh!"

As the hips met each thrust with full force, the soft buttocks pressed tightly against his abdomen. He could feel the intense twitching of the person beneath him, who jerked violently. Fair hands reached out to grasp his thighs and clung tightly, hips tilting higher, while his one large hand braced against the headboard, the other reaching to cradle the lovely, soaked part that signaled that Tongrak... had already climaxed.

"Hah, hah."

The person in his embrace gasped, his body trembling as if consciousness was slipping away in the aftermath of reaching heaven.

Then, a flushed face turned to look at him through tears, eyes still adrift in the blissful moment. This prompted him not to tease Tongrak with a 'You finish so easily, don't you?' Instead, he kissed him to soothe and comfort him.

It seemed Tongrak himself hadn't expected to finish so easily.

"Ah, ugh."

Warm lips pressed against a gentle, comforting kiss, contrasting with the lower body's movements that quickened, urging him on to match the rhythm of the beauty who'd reached the climax before him. And that taught the southern man something new.

With a face contorted in pleasure, a throat filled with moans, and a body twitching below, this person enjoyed him plunging deep even after cumming.

Damn!

The larger man growled low in his throat, eyes blazing with passion. This was almost maddening, but the discovery only made him more curious.

How to kiss and touch to make this person melt in his embrace?

That was the thought of the one thrusting his body hard, hands now shifting to lock around Tongrak's shoulders, pulling him close, listening to the sweet moans whispered close to his cheek, and that...

Mahasamut felt the tension, his hands clenched tight, his body taught with strain, and then... he released.

Mahasamut shut his eyes, pulling himself back from the blissful sensation he'd just experienced. When he opened them again, he intended to press a kiss onto those beautifully colored lips.

"If you're done, then take it out."

But before he could act on his desire, Tongrak raised a hand to cover his mouth, panting slightly but... with a cold tone in his voice.

"I need to get back to work. If you're done, then take that thing out already."

The gesture made Mahasamut want to smack the older man once or twice.

Geez... Just moments ago, he was begging for me, and now that it's over, I'm being kicked to the curb.

Part of him wanted to tease a little, but maybe because he'd already gotten more than he expected today, the tall figure clenched his teeth and slowly pulled himself away, looking at the trembling face that was still affected by the fiction that had occurred.

"As you command."

What else could he say when his employer had given the order?

"Do I have to leave right now?"

"Yes, why would you stick around after you're finished? You can go."

"Kicking me out right after we're done, huh?" The big man chuckled.

Tongrak didn't seem to care. As soon as he collapsed onto the bed, he pulled the blanket over himself and commanded, "Take the condom and throw it outside, then lock the door."

"No goodbye hug?"

"Get out."

When teased, Tongrak looked up with a stern voice, making the other laugh softly. He dressed in his sandy clothes from the bathroom and returned with the evidence of their encounter. His sharp eyes glanced at the man lying in the middle of the bed, but before leaving...

"Do you want me to clean up? I have long fingers, you know."

That's when Tongrak threw a pillow at him, still not lifting his head from the thick blanket.

"I told you to get out!"

"Okay, okay, see you tomorrow."

Mahasamut willingly left the room, making sure to lock the door behind him.

When he heard the door close and the lock click, the person on the bed lifted his head again, revealing a flushed face, moist eyes, and messy hair that could only be described as sexy. And the handsome man cursed to himself...

"Damn it Rak, how could you let him do something like that?!"

As his senses returned, he remembered everything he'd said, and more importantly...

"That was damn good."

The sex this time around was exceptional, easily ranking in the top three experiences of his life. It was so good that he'd almost choked to death trying to suppress the desire for another round. Thinking back on what had happened, he brought his hands up to cover his face.

I think I'm in trouble.

---

---

Content Note:

Tongrak demands Mahasamut take the used condom and throw it away in an outside bin. This is a reference to the events of Love Sand.

Khom is confronted by a homophobic former classmate named Jun. Jun had already run afowl of Connor and Khom, but he makes inquiries among the locals who work at the resort and learns that Connor's trash has been full of used condoms, and Khom had been staying with him most nights.

After Connor leaves the island, Jun attacks Khom in front of a crowded market. He loudly outs Khom as gay, a secret Khom religiously kept from everyone, including his family. Jun then beats Khom half to death, with the crowd only standing there watching, some making faces at Khom.

Mahasamut finds Khom in the hospital and helps him flee to a college dorm Khom has on the mainland. He also tracks down Jun and beats him severely, then forces him to crawl to Khom's parents and beg forgiveness.

Tongrak is very aware of what Khom has gone through, and in the Love Sea show as well as novel, you see many gestures by Tongrak to obscure or hide his sexual relationship with Mahasamut, such as when he tells Mahasamut to throw the used condom away in a public trash can. He knows using the in-room trashbin was what led to Khom's attack.

[aziraphales-library]

Y’all are awesome and I appreciate the hell out of this account! Any fics that are an attempt at a season 3? Preferably comedic ones! Thank you so much and keep up the amazing work! ❤️

Hello. We have a #good omens s3 speculation tag, so check that out. Here are more to add that have some kind of humour tag...

a place to be by kaiyen (NR)

In which Crowley moves back into his flat, Aziraphale has problems at work, and the Second Coming of Christ is but a stone's throw away. In the end, Crowley makes it to rolling green hills, leant against a stubbornly yellow Bentley. He remembers the first morning. He had slithered out of the ground not long before dawn, the dirt damp even before the first rain, the grass cool and crisp against his scales. And the sun had risen, jewels spilling across the great blue sky, warm and golden from the East. Crowley – Crawly, then – had wanted to follow it, had felt a great pull Eastwards. He went, too, until he found the ripe red fruit nestled amongst the lush green leaves and knew what they were for. It was luck, then, that the humans had left in the direction of the sunrise. Luck, or– ineffable. The sun rises over the South Downs, and Crowley finally wants to stay.

The Ineffable Shades of Gray (Good Omens Season 3) by altsernative (T)

After returning to Heaven, Aziraphale learns the Metatron's true intentions, finds himself disillusioned, and regrets his choice to leave Crowley, who has been working in the Temptations department. They reunite, and find themselves stopping the final war between Heaven and Hell and learning God and Satan's true intentions for the world and each other.

Demons are Forever by in_a_pickle (T)

After finallly finding the courage to tell his best friend his feelings, Crowley's dreams are shattered when Aziraphale once again chooses Heaven over happiness together. With ‘Great Plans’ afoot upstairs, Aziraphale discovers that the starring role he accepted comes with some unforeseen duties and that Crowley’s kiss has become something of a distraction. Crowley meanwhile is trying to come to terms with a broken heart and is trying to fathom why Heaven is so keen to have Aziraphale back in the fold. A mini adventure with our favourite group of two, written in case I get hit by a bus and never get to find out what happened next.

The Intended Effect by Esme_Abner (E)

A post-S2 fic that begins with a very sad Crowley and a conflicted Aziraphale and a surprisingly not-awful Jesus. It's all building toward our boys reconciling, because like everyone else, my heart is broken and I need to pick up the pieces somehow. And they might try to like save the world again, too.

(I just can't wait for) Season 3 Good Omens! by RCReveal (T)

After Season 2, I really needed to find out how Aziraphale and Crowley could get their reunion: a real reunion & not 'pretendy real'. They both have so much growing to do with neither of them, yet, being able to even say 'I love you' clearly to each other. Angel, what's going on? What kind of doublethink are you doing to still think that Heaven is the Good side & that you can't even admit to being friends? But you'll do anything to protect the World. Crowley, always planning on running. Sorry, but that won't work. If you had run at Armageddon there'd be no here to be in. But somehow, still a little seed of optimism. And wow! what you two can do together! Especially with a little help from old and new friends. So here's a story about averting the Second Coming with that great ensemble cast of characters in Heaven, Hell, and Whickber ST. Long set up, but then starts to speed up, kinda a wild ride from chapter 42 onto the end. This story is at about the same level of cursing, violence (well, maybe a little more Gaiman-esque), humor (definitely much more Terry Pratchett-esque) and romance as that of the second season.

There's a Special Place on Earth for Beings Like You by Kipje (T)

Set two years after Aziraphale leaves to become Supreme Archangel. It’s the Second Coming. Aziraphale is tasked with finding parents for the new Christ and returns to earth. He needs Crowley’s help, but the two haven’t spoken since the break-up. Crowley doesn’t want to forgive the angel, nor does he want to help out with the baby, but he finds it incredibly hard not to get involved. OR Aziraphale and Crowley raise the new Christ together; a girl named Eden. While they try to sort out their feelings and avert the apocalypse. Excerpt: Crowley had always assumed Aziraphale would want to run away with him in order to be together. He had never bothered to ask if there was a version where they would be an ‘us’ on earth. What was Aziraphale supposed to do once they arrived in the Alpha Centauri system. How would that even work with his book collection? Sure, Aziraphale had fallen in love with the demon – and it had taken him a while to be able to admit that – but he had also fallen in love with humanity, with earth. He had never planned on leaving. He knew earth would be no fun without his favourite wily serpent, but that did not mean he would be fine anywhere as long as Crowley was there. He had standards.

- Mod D

[jcollinswrites]

How the fudge are you writting so fast??? I sit down to write and end up with nothing or reworking plot instead of writing 😭Have any tips you want to share? Perhaps the ingredients to the dark ritual you perform to get the motivation and remain focused 👀👀👀

So, first of all, you'll need half a newborn, shaken, not stirred…

lol jk (don't shake babies)

Believe it or not I'm the same as you, so here are some stuff that helped me tremendously, especially with my squirrel ADHD brain:

NUMBER ONE that I needed 20 years to learn, is that… forget editing, man. You can't edit if there is nothing to edit, so first you have to sit ya ass down and just fuckin' do it. It doesn't matter if it's shit at first. It's called work in progress for a reason. Who cares if it's shit? You can edit it LATER when the whole thing is already done. What you're reading in my game is literally my first draft. Lots of scenes might change later. In fact, I'm already changing scenes in the background, I'm just not always telling you. It doesn't matter. If anyone gives you shit for it, tell them to kindly fuck right off.

Have a plan for the book (written down. Not just in your head). Don't even start writing until you have a plan for the entire book. It doesn't have to be detailed. Mine is just bulletpoints, but you should know which chapter will contain what, including plot points, character development, relationship progress etc, otherwise you'll get lost, especially in a big IF. And then as you get closer to the next chapter, you can work out more details in the plan to help the actual writing.

If you don't feel like writing a scene, then don't write it. Leave a placeholder word there (I use 'mandarin' because that word likely won't come up anywhere else in the text), and instantly move on to another scene that you have inspiration for. Later, you can just search for 'mandarin' and add the scene when you feel like it. If you accidentally come across any MANDARINs in my game, that's the reason lol.

If you are writing an IF, it helps to start simple. Write the story until a choice comes up, then write the title of the choices, and continue ONLY with the route you feel the most inspired for atm (use mandarin for the rest). Don't let your momentum die by getting bogged down in choices. That's why I have so many greyed out choices when I start a new origin or chapter. I just write write write until the end of the chapter, THEN I go back to whatever choice is the simplest to add, and put the variations in the already-existing text if needed. Repeat until all the choices are written and coded in. This way, the text might feel more organic too, because you already have a pre-written skeleton that you can just add variations in.

Keep notes. It helps to have them on paper, next to you, so f.ex. when you make 9 different deities to choose from, you don't have to go back to the beginning of the chapter every single time to look up which deities those were and what they mean, you can simply turn your head to the side lol.

Take regular breaks. Exercise, stretch. Keep a daily schedule. Eat and drink enough. Try to keep a good health. Your brain won't work if it's starved.

Know yourself and your habits, and be honest with yourself. I know of myself that once I start working on the big plot points, I won't have any motivation to come back to the beginning again. That's why I'm writing all the origin stories first, because I know that if I start going into chapter 2, I definitely won't feel like coming back to start yet another route from the very beginning. So if you don't feel like doing something, then just… don't do it. Or do it simpler. Do it smarter. Trick that asshole brain into cooperating.

Last but not least, guys, 90% of my motivation COMES FROM YOU! Your engagement, your messages, your feedback, every little interaction is what keeps me going! So write me! I will answer! (if you aren't a dick). Literally, about anything. Even if it's just "hey I really liked this small detail here", that will already make my day, seriously. I LOVE talking about my work, and I'm pretty sure every author is like that, so keep engaging with writers, because that's 90% of the reason when a novel gets finished! I'm writing for YOU! Your enjoyment, your fun, because I love telling stories, but those stories don't mean anything if no one is reading them.