#holy fucking shit the one time i get to have a small window of time to go get something ive been waiting to get for fucking months

[drbased]

ok I have to talk about 'the dialectic of sex' by shulamith firestone because it was one of the first proper feminist books I read and I didn't have the confidence back then to address this book:

so this is still the only book I've read so far that actually uses the words 'radical feminist' - except her definition of this politics is essentially transhumanist luxury space communism. because her understanding is that the 'root' of women's oppression is our reproductive capacity and therefore no matter what happens society will never fully be able to share the burden of childbirth and child-rearing across both sexes.

this book feels so evocative of its time - like there was a small window of pure hope shortly after the invention of the pill and the hippy movement where everything entirely changed for women. like, think about it: up until that point unless you use some sort of condom (which men don't like using - and also not 100% effective anyway) you're basically always vulnerable to being impregnated by a man during piv, which is considered the basic form of sexual intimacy wth men, which women are expected to engage in to be considered full members of society. so women would have all been in some sort of constant state of low-key fear; one sex - or rape - away from having a child that would change their entire existence. that's got to really fuck you up, especially your relationship with your own body. and you could get an abortion but only if you're incredibly lucky, and still getting an abortion is probably more like surviving a car crash than anything - like you're glad you made it through but also you're still damaged psychologically and probably physically as well. and it's such a silent fear as well - because women are supposed to want babies and babies just happen so you're not allowed to complain that this is because your husband always wants sex and he's the one who impregnates you but if he does people say 'she got herself pregnant again'. like there's layer upon layer of psychological terrorism surrounding men's impregnation of women and that's gotta mess you the hell up.

so the invention of the pill - holy shit, just imagine it. the hope. you can take the pill in secret, you can take the power back, you're not uniquely vulnerable to your own bodily forces anymore, that gives you time to fucking think, to be alive, to feel, to feel vulnerable, to feel free. it's like literal magic. if the most basic of happenings - pregnancy - can be actually prevented, then what else can we do to the body? what else can science do for us?? how more free can we get?? It's women's first time to (ironically) feel like a god, able to transcend the body. I'm actually surprised that I've not found more writings like shulamith's - that there weren't more women spurred on by this amazing discovery into further transhumanism. I guess the problem was that women were starting to notice that whilst women were able to change their own individual lives with the pill, that wasn't making men behave any differently.

but I still find it fascinating how this definition of radical feminism hasn't survived at all. as it stands on radblr, the 'root' of women's oppression is men, and therefore the only real solution is separatism. but like, what happened to the brand of feminism that says, uhhhh isn't it actually kinda fucked up that half the human race are burdened entirely with pregnancy, birth and child-rearing? and could we maybe be freed from that if we used science to bring about children another way? I'm not even agreeing with her that that would solve everything (because regardless even if we *could* make babies in a tube, that doesn't mean all women are going to magically become infertile, and it certainly doesn't mean than men are going to be less violent against us), but I'm very interested in questioning what the 'root' of women's oppression is - because modern 'radical feminism' has a lot of gaps to allow for a simplistic narrative that I'm sure many in the community, definitely myself included, are rapidly tiring of. and I think it shows in the separatism debate, which rages on because no one can think of any other solution, because the unspoken tenet is that what the 'root' is is solved and agreed-upon, and therefore the answer is just so damn obvious that the women who don't agree must be scared and stupid. I've been wanting to address this in some form or another for years now, and I guess I'm dipping my toes in it now.

at the very least, I'd like to know if someone has a good source on where the term 'radical feminism' came from and how its meaning has evolved over the years. in ariel levy's 'female chauvinist pigs' she touches on this debate that started in the late seventies that led to the fracturing of feminism and the creation of liberal feminism - and it seems to be along these same lines of separatism vs fucking men. I've always found it odd that there's essentially no middle ground here - like you don't need to embrace 'sluttiness' in order to want to have a healthy sexual relationship with a man, but it seems the liberal feminist side chose that, meanwhile the only other 'mainstream' option seems to be separatism. obviously a lot of the women in radblr don't actually fully agree with that - but all us hetties are suspiciously silent on that subject.

to me the issues with separatism go further than simply sex with men - sure it's psychologically good for you to only purchase from women owned businesses and only read books by women etc etc, and it financially uplifts other women. but also we live under capitalism, which obscures our reliance on each other. when you buy from that woman-owned business, the person delivering your package is likely to be male, the person who assembled the vehicle he drives is likely to be male, the person who constructed the roads he drives on is likely to be male. this is not to say that men are vital - but rather, your 'separatist choice' is a fundamentally capitalistic one that exists more for your peace of mind than being anything actually radical - as in, nothing about the 'root' of women's oppression is addressed in doing so. there's no ethical consumption under capitalism yadda yadda. and only speaking to women irl is also less of a capitalist action but still ultimately an individual one. there's so much emphasis on personal actions as the height of feminism and it screams liberal individualist to me. like you took 'the personal is political' and ran with it.

but if the root of the problem is men, then that's simple, isn't it? just don't interact with men. don't have sex with men. don't pay men, apart from the men who happen to be an inescapable part of the supply chain, they will inevitably get paid by your actions anyway, but you don't have to think about that because that's what capitalism does: it makes you think you have this magical power as an indvidual to make real radical choice in the world, to 'vote with your dollar'.

I'm not exactly calling for firebombing a walmart but I'm bored with the capitalism-loving individualistic liberalism of what this community calls 'radical feminism' - but that same thought-terminating cliche keeps getting thrown at us: 'we're radical, which means we grasp at the root, and the root is male violence, so you can't call yourself a radical feminist if you don't want to do the basic things of not wearing make-up and not fucking men'. and nobody ever seems to stop and question, does any of that actually address the root of our oppression? capitalism isn't the only economic system that has ever oppressed women, but it's the one we live under, and it's very good at sneaking into the backdrop of our lives and naturalising hierarchies - capitalism becomes its own justification, e.g. women choose low-paying jobs just because that's what we gravitate to, yanno?

being genuinely anti-capitalist recomplicates politics all over again, because suddenly it's not an easy men vs women but also men vs women vs rich people, some of whom are women??? and like, what's the solution to that? do we stand with men agains the capitalist system and risk our voices getting silenced, or do we go full single-issue and just go fuck it, capitalism was created by men for themselves like solanas said, so if we stand against men then idk capitalism will just sort of fall by itself? or in reality it's just not addressed at all. separatism itself always sits there as a thought-terminating cliche in and of itself - an accusation ready to be levelled at anyone who wants to question any of these unspoken tenets of radblr. and the goal-post is ever-shifting - separatism is women's land, but if you say that's not a real solution in our capitalist interconnected world then you get accused of not wanting women's spaces because that's obviously what separatism has been about this whole time. also separatism is not fucking men, actually it's not about that it's about prioritising women (vague), and on and on and on - the argument always shifts so the word stays pure. but like, is separatism an end-goal? a political tactic? something you do to enrich your own life and psyche? something to give space for consciousness-raising? I saw someone ages ago claim that the suffragettes wanting the right to vote was somehow separatist because idk, the women were making spaces for themselves? but wanting to involve yourself in male politics is literally assimilationist, no??

I'lm going to stop rambling for now but this was good to get my thoughts out there - I enjoy my theorising in this space but I'm also deeply interested in questioning. I've noticed time and time again that discourse is always stopped by 'you're not a real radical feminist if you do/don't do x' and I've found it really odd and telling that no one's questioned that? like sure I know we've built our whole political framework on 'words mean things' but also it's always worth questioning the definition of 'radical' and what the 'root' of our oppression is, and what we can actually do to address it, and if our narratives and assumptions are too simplistic. the community would be all the better for it imho. I already think the influx of 'tirfs' in the community and the khelif debate has been opening up these unspoken simplistic narratives on the nature of gender vs sex, of socialisation vs low-key biological essentialism, and I think we can push that kind of questioning even further. ramble over.

[endious]

im so fucking goddamn pissed i could punch a wall or stab myself

[cheriladycl01]

We make a mess - Max Verstappen x Reader Smut

Plot: You’ve been reading for too long and Max is getting needy …

Warnings: smut, messy sex, p in v, fingering, blowjob, ruined sofa etc 18+ mdni

You were just reading on the sofa like you normally did when Max streamed in your living room. You’d asked him so many times if he could move his set up into an office space but he refused saying the living was large enough for it all, which it was.

So whenever he streamed you found yourself tucked up on the sofa reading a book from your expansive library in the house.

The book you were currently reading was one of those that was so easy to get lost in and to sink into. To the point you hadn’t even noticed Max end his stream, start to cook food, make both of you a drink and come sit next to you on the sofa.

You were so engrossed in the current fantasy world and all the mysterious characters popping in and out that you hadn’t even heard Max attempt to ask you if you were ready for bed.

You hadn’t even realised he’d set the pasta he’d cooked for dinner in front of you and you’d eaten it whilst still reading.

“Baby?!” Max whines whilst shaking you making you pause on the line you’d just read.

“Huh?” You ask looking round noticing that there was no natural light coming in through the windows and it was just the city lights it Monaco at night.

“Holy shit Max what time is it?” You ask looking at him and placing the book mark in and putting the book down.

“Just gone half twelve” he says and you gasp. Max had started streaming at 7pm … has you really been reading for that long.

“You ignored me when I asked for you” he says with a grouchy and pouty look on his face.

“Baby! I’m so so sorry” you rush out and look awkwardly at him while trying not to laugh.

“You have given me no attention tonight! And I think you owe me” he suggest his voice getting an octave lower and a little more scratchy than usual.

“Max baby I’m sorry!” You cry out as he manhandles you flipping you over on the sofa so your on your elbows and knees, you chin resting on the fabricated arm of the sofa.

“No, you’ve done it now” he grins lightly smacking your ass before flipping up the skirt you were wearing. His hand runs along your thong strap, that going into the dip of your waist and down your lower back across before he lightly lifts it and snaps it against you.

“M-Max” you groan at your boyfriend trying to turn round and see him but he grabs the base of your neck forcing you more foreword into the sofa making you groan out as your knees start to give out.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks and you nod, your cheek squished.

He slowly rubs his hands down your hips before he gets to the bands of your underwear slowly pulling those down to leave you bare before him.

“So pretty, and so perfect. Look how wet you are already, and I’ve not even touched you. Gonna make a mess baby” he groans observing you. No matter how many times Max compliments you, or touches you, you won’t fail to become a blushing mess. You let out a small whine of appreciation as Max starts to use featherlight touches up your legs and to your inner thighs.

“Aw always so vocal” he sighs before reaching round supporting you by wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you up while his other arm comes round to your front to slowly rub circles on you clit, pulling all sorts of moans from you.

Max had a way of making you know that nobody else was ever going to be as good as he was.

Your hips start to stutter forward and a semi familiar feel starts to rise up the quicker Max rubs, pinches smacks and pulls at your clit and his dirty talking gets … dirtier.

“Max, gonna make a mess on the sofa” you cry out, feeling that one feeling that you know would end up with the sofa covered.

“No issue Schat, I can just buy a new one” he whispers in your ear biting against it before kissing along your jaw.

And shortly after, your squirting all over the sofa.

“Fuck Max, the sofa” you gasp and squirm as you feel the fabric dampen with the liquids shooting out.

You’d actually never squirted with anyone but Max and it was a feeling very different to that of your normal release, but one that was slowly becoming more and more familiar to you.

You’re left panting while Max starts to slowly, enter a finger into you, having you try and sink back onto it wanting him to create that incredible feeling again.

Two fingers are adding as he’s thrusting in and out, while he struggles to unbutton his own pants to release some pressure. He keeps up his pace the whole time, never stopping looking at you and the way your hips try to meet him with each thrust of his hand.

He gets his jeans undone, pulling them down along with his boxers pulling himself free. He was rock hard just from what he’d been doing to you, but he was now at the stage when you needed to feel some kind of release. Just a little bit of the pulsing pressure alleviated.

He starts to move his hand up and down his length with one hand while now scissoring his fingers inside of you.

He was sat leaning on the comfy back of the sofa, his head thrown back in pleasure cocked to the side to keep watching the way your body moves to meet Max’s fingers.

He didn’t anticipate just how worked up you’d made him while you were curled up on the sofa ignoring him, and he came unexpectedly quickly. As he felt that coil release he turned so he was jacking off towards you. White shooting out of his tip dripping onto your ass and down onto the sofa as you too reach your second climax of the evening.

“Max, I - I need a breather” you sigh, exhausted from your two heavy climaxes.

“Nope, whole way through baby. Wanna see that pretty face” he smiles as he flips you round so your on your back. Max knee you could go the whole way through, you’d done it before and he was confident you’d use the safe word if it really was too much for you.

And after a few moments of silence he takes that as his sign that you are in fact happy for him to continue.

It’s the first time you can fully feel the sofa and how sticky and wet it now is, covered in both your highs and it almost makes your cringe from the now cold feeling it gave.

Max’s hands come up your body, lifting your top off before taking off his pants fully and throwing his top next to yours on the floor.

“So beautiful my god” he says looking down at you. He spreads your thighs wider until you’ve wrapped your legs around him so the back of your heels dig into the little dips of his back.

He slides in with ease with how wet you are, bottoming out almost instantly. He sighs massaging your chest whilst slowly moving in and out, driving you insane.

“Max baby please faster” you beg looking up at him as he starts to run his thumb tantalising slow over your nipple.

“When you made me wait all night, just for a hello. I don’t think so baby” he says, not moving any quicker, lovingly thrusting in and out of you.

“MAXIE please” you gasp out as you feel something but you need more. You grip his shoulders pulling him closer to you, and kissing up his jaw and to his lips.

After yours words and actions he starts to speed up his movements, his grip going to your hips to angle them up, whilst a pillow is successfully slid underneath your back angling your hips up at the perfect angle where your mouth drops open like a fish.

“Eyes on me baby” he says looking over you, and you manage to keep your eyes on his as his hand comes down close to where the two of you are joined as one and he finds that spot that has you gasping in delight.

“That’s it, let go Schat” and with those words you were welcoming your third orgasm of the night. It’s fast and just as messy as your first, leaving you breathless as Max leans more of his body weight against you, his thrusts becoming sloppy before he joins you in his own ecstasy.

“Hopefully this will remind you to pay attention to me from now on?” He laughs, resting against you, exhausted from the physicality of what you’d just done.

“Mmmmmm” is all you can reply in between your ragged breathing.

You’d definitely not be so engrossed in your book next time. Or who knows maybe you would… and Mad Max would make a return … a little … teasing never hurt.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[tiyoin]

so i had a thought…

nsfw below cut! unknown voyeruism

tdlr: jade and floyd go to collect ramshackle, but collect valuable… anatomical lesson instead

book 3, jade and floyd are going to ramshackle to kick you out and they’re peeking through the windows. trying to look through the closed blinds to see if anyone’s home.

jade’s about to knock on the door when floyd, still peeking through the dirty windows stops him and ushers him over.

aha! floyd’s found a peep hole! you must’ve thought you closed them all the way in a rush. tsk tsk careless.

they both freeze in their tracks as they peek through the gap in the blinds.

it’s you… unclothed… bouncing in the lap of some male…

human mating is what they chalk it up to.

they’re nothing but curious, nosey leeches who can’t stop watching you bounce up and down up and down furiously in the lap of…

holy shit- no way it’s that wolf friend of yours!! THIS IS GOLD!! no wonder you reeked of him!

floyd comments about how he didn’t see a mating mark on either of you as he continues watching the scandalous scene.

he couldn’t look away if he wanted too. his heterochromatic eyes greedily feasting upon the mating ritual you two were completing. though nether of you were making any effort to mark the other, and every-time floyd thought you were going in for a claiming mark, there was nothing on sea-urchin’s neck to show for it.

jade wonders if your two precious heartslabyul friends knew the,,, things you were getting up to while they were under azul’s iron thumb.

he wonders if you’re even aware of the two freshmen’s affections and how much this would crush them if they were ever to find out..

they couldn’t keep their eyes off of you, how utterly… small, you were compared to him. large hands swallowing your waist as he practically uses you to get off.

they watch they way your hair bounces, the way it inches down down down your back and to your waist as your throw your head back in agony-

“hehe, look jade, shrimpy’s enjoy’n it” floyd laughs lowly, catching the way your mouth opens and eyes screw shut. they swore they could hear gasps and moans escape through the cracks in your dingy hobble.

jack pulls you off him, your tired body against his chest. pushing his hair back you both gaze at each other. floyd wants to puke.

“i guess they-“

jade wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as he saw jack bend you over the side of the couch. your upper body and hands holding the side as jack got on his knees, his larger body engulfing your body with his. almost like he knew there was unwanted company, the ever heroic urchin was shielding your… alluring body from view.

his hips began again, arms around you as he cleared the hair from your face. aww. it was almost romantic if the twins squinted hard enough. it didn’t help the fact that jack basically humping the daylights out of you or how your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and the animalistic noises you both let out.

the twins couldn’t know how much time had passed or how long they watched sea urchin drill into you, hold you. they shared a look when he brushed hair from your neck, staring intensely at your neck. it was obvious this meant more to him than to you as he nuzzled your nape.

“ahh fuck” floyd groaned, jade’s gaze broke away from the show to look at his whining twin who was looking at his lower body.

jade looked down at himself, and sure enough- his penis was becoming erect.

“how interesting” jade chuckled, lolling his head back towards the window. and to his expectations you two were still mating like you were in heat.

“ c‘mon jade, better go before it gets worse.” floyd gives you one last lingering glance before turning. the gleam in his eye didn’t go unnoticed by jade, his own smirk doing nothing to hide his inner thoughts.

but nothing was said as the two made their way off of the ramshackle property.

they gave you another day to live in bliss, though you did have to pay with your body, unbeknownst to you.

[siriussslut]

desperate for some kind of part two to the regulus getting head for the first time☹️🙏

my man needs to last longer😞

maybe him getting introduced to a fucking vibrator and he loses his shit

pretty lips, warm mouth AND a vibrator pressed against his balls? he’s gonna need that practice.

- 🦕

i’m actually dripping right now oh my god

warnings: oral sex, blowjob, cum in mouth, vibrator, one playful use of “slut”

masterlist

pt 1, pt 3

you scoop up a handful of pebbles, tossing it at the dark second story window. you shiver in the cool night air, pulling your fleece jacket tighter. when nothing happens after a moment, you throw some more.

a light switches on inside and regulus’ head pokes out. his brows furrow when he sees you. you grin cheekily up at him. since you sucked him off for the first time in his life last week, the two of you have been practically inseparable. you’ve been sucking his cock at every available opportunity, practically drunk on his taste.

he’s tried to return the favor by offering to finger you and last night he even brought up trying to eat you out, but you declined. letting him touch you made it feel much weirder. the two of you were just friends… the blowjobs were totally for practice.

regulus looks behind him like he’s scared his mother will catch him before opening the window all the way, beckoning you forward. you obey, climbing up the tree in front of him and hopping onto the roof. you slide into his bedroom, a wave of warmth welcoming you.

“what are you doing here?” regulus asks, his grey eyes practically bulging out of his skull.

“i think you need more training,” you say, pulling a hair tie off your wrist, reaching up to put your hair into a ponytail.

he flushes red. “what?”

you ignore him, pushing him back on to his bed. he falls over, plopping onto the mattress.

“this okay?” you ask, sinking to the floor. his carpet is soft beneath your knees, soothing the bruises you’ve formed this past week.

“y-yeah.” his voice is an octave too high.

you pull down his plaid green pajama pants, letting the cloth pool around his ankles.

you smirk. “wow regulus, no underwear?” you yank on his hardening cock then fling it back into his thighs. “you’re such a slut.”

you can feel his blush deepening, his skin growing warmer beneath your fingers.

“shut up.” he sits up straighter so he can look down at you.

you look up to meet his eyes. “brought something special tonight.”

“yeah?” you can see the excitement hiding behind his eyes.

you pull the object out of your pocket. it’s a small pink vibrator.

his face turns a darker shade of crimson. “what is that?”

“a vibrator. it’ll make you feel really good, i promise. can i?” you gesture at his cock.

he nods, still eyeing the vibrator apprehensively.

you press it to his balls. before turning it on, you stroke him a few times, feel his dick fill with cum. his tip is almost as pink as the vibrator. you pull him into your mouth, resisting the urge to let your eyes roll back into your skull from his mere taste.

he whimpers, leaning into your lips. “your mouth is so warm,” he whispers.

you feel yourself grow wetter, soaking through your panties. you smirk around his twitching shaft, reaching to turn the vibrator on. you set it to medium speed.

immediately his cock jerks around in your mouth, sinful sounds spilling from his lips. he chokes on his own noises. “holy—“

you tug on his balls, pressing them closer to the vibrator. you feel a tear of pleasure land on the top of your head.

his cock jerks against the walls of your throat, once, twice, before he’s shooting hot ropes of cum down your hole.

his seed warms you from the inside out, and you make sure he’s watching as you swallow. you keep the vibrator pressed tightly against him until he’s gone completely soft, slumping over exhaustedly.

“you lasted only a little longer than your first time.”

he breathes deeply, his face flushed, before plopping his back down on his bed. “so tired.”

you reach down to touch his cheek, watching the way his pulse flutters behind the skin of his neck. “goodnight.”

you hurry home, aching to get off on your fresh memories.

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 3

max Verstappen x single mom!reader

{masterlist}{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, jos is an even bigger asshole, barely proofread, logan's there, glazed-over mentioning of childhood trauma Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 7937 (i got so carried away holy shit) auth.note: listen, eagle boy swayed me with his pretty eyes and soft voice... also this was a great excuse for me to rewatch Mulan for the millionth time. spotify: i made a playlist

"Team meeting in ten," GP commented.

Max nodded, eyes following y/n through the window as she paced in the small courtyard, talking on her phone. He hadn't seen or spoken to her since they'd finished the Q and A the day before. Surprisingly, he'd actually enjoyed it. He told himself it was because she'd made sure to gather thought provoking questions, not because some of his answers had made her laugh and her laugh made him feel relaxed. GP turned to look out the window and Max quickly looked down at his plate, even though he'd just taken the last bite of his breakfast. When the engineer turned back, Max could feel his amused expression.

"Looks like it might rain," GP said casually.

Nodding again, Max washed down the last of his food with his coffee. "More chances for fuck ups."

"It's not a crime."

He finally looked up. "What?"

GP nodded towards the window.

"If rain was a crime, would they put god in prison?" Max asked, keeping his face blank when his friend snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You're not a robot, Max."

From the corner of his eye he could see her approaching Christian, who was coming from the garage. "I never said I was."

"Then stop acting like one. You're still young, I guess you're attractive, and you're at the top of your career."

"Thank you for that endorsement," Max said drily. Horner had stepped aside with y/n, whose hands were moving as she spoke to him. "I'll be sure and put it in my Tinder profile."

GP's eyebrows lifted. "You have one?"

"Fuck no." He pushed his chair back. "I don't have time."

"Max," his friend sighed.

"I'll see you at the meeting." He took care of his dishes, making sure to thank the staff working the dining area before leaving the motorhome, telling himself it was so he could get some fresh air and clear his head for the meeting. His legs carried him around the corner to where y/n and Christian were still talking, and he boldly approached.

"…speak to him." Christian shot a look at Max.

"If he was joking I wouldn't think twice about it.," y/n said, frowning. "But I don't see how it could have been. He was extremely rude, implied I wasn't worth hiring based on my looks, and…"

Max kept his mouth shut, knowing she needed to do the speaking. Giving her a faint nod when she looked at him, he felt a glimmer of pride when she straightened her shoulders.

"I didn't spend four years in college – sorry, university – and work three jobs at once to be demeaned. I know I have the skills and drive to do my job, but if this team continues to foster that sort of toxic environment you'll have to look for a new social media admin," she said firmly.

He tried to but couldn't keep the smile from forming.

Christian looked slightly impressed, giving her a reassuring nod. "I understand. He's not employed by us, he's only here by our good graces."

"I know he's the father of the your top driver, and I spoke with him before coming to you," she said, as though Max wasn't standing right there.

Christian pressed his lips together and Max knew he was trying to hide his smile. "Of course. We'll deal with it, I promise."

"Thank you." She relaxed, sighing softly. "I'm not trying to cause trouble, Mr. Horner."

"It's Jos fucking Verstappen, he's the trouble," Christian muttered. "Don't worry, alright? If anyone ever gives you a problem, reach out to me."

She nodded. "Thanks again. Oh!" She turned to Max, smiling hopefully. "I already asked Checo and he said yes to doing it this week. Would you be up to 24 hours with you at Monaco? Not the full 24 hours since I don't want to watch you sleep, but I just stick with you for the rest of the day and show fans a behind the scenes look at what a practice or quali day for you looks like."

"Why?" he asked, still stuck on the thought of her watching him sleep.

"Well! Casual fans don't realize how much work goes into being you. The training and diet and analyzing and teamwork. All the stuff you do even before practice and quali, like walking the track."

"For the whole day."

"Yeah, except for sleeping. I mean, that would probably really ramp up views, but—"

"I'm not that interesting though," he said. Why would anyone want to spend a practice or quali day with him?

"Oh don't start with the modesty. You're an elite athlete. I'm not asking you to invite me into your bedroom and let me show your bed to the world, just a small peek at what you're like. We can highlight your sim racing, explain how it's helped you learn the tracks so well. Talk about your suit, why the fireproof is so important." She tipped her head. "Maybe a shot of your suitcase to prove you do have clothes other than Red Bull gear? If you do, because I'm beginning to think you only have one pair of jeans and a Red Bull shirt."

He laughed at that, shaking his head. "I guess I can do it. We'll see how Checo's goes."

"Perfect. Speaking of, I'm doing that tomorrow so I gotta start posting to hype it up—"

"Meeting in two minutes," Christian told them.

Max looked at him, chagrined to admit he'd forgotten the man was there. "On the way," he promised, rubbing the back of his neck when Christian shot him a knowing look and headed off. Turning back to y/n, he cleared his throat. "I'm not showing my suitcase to the world."

"Is it that embarrassing?" she asked, clicking her tongue in sympathy. "Do you have Red Bull boxers too?"

"No, I—" he cut off, remembering the company's joke birthday gift to him the year before. "Okay, I do, but they're not in my suitcase."

"At least let me throw a team logo pillow on the bed—"

"Absolutely not."

She fell into step next to him, an extra bounce in her walk. "Are you saying there's already one there?"

He shouldn't say it. It would probably be inappropriate. He told himself that repeatedly, even as he drew a breath and opened his mouth. "Why the interest in my bed?"

"I told you, I love sleep. Oh." She frowned. "It'll be a hotel bed anyway."

Opening the motorhome door for her, he glanced up at the cloudy sky as the aroma of flowers he couldn't identify washed over him. "No?"

"Are you saying you get an Airbnb?" she asked in confusion. "Do they even have that in Monaco—"

"You didn't know? I thought you asked Google everything," he teased.

Her brow furrowed deeply. "Didn't know what?"

"I live in Monaco. So no, it wouldn't be a hotel room."

The confusion melted away, her eyes widening a little. "Oh. Wow."

"Wow?" he echoed, heading to the stairs.

"You're rich rich."

"Don't say that," he requested, making a face. She made wealth sound dirty.

"In my defense I didn't think to look up everyone's salary when I got hired. I mean I knew you were rich, but—"

"Stop saying it—"

"Sorry." She smiled sweetly, which told him she wasn't sorry at all. "Have a good meeting, Max. Oh, wait!"

He stopped at the top of the stairs, huffing when she lifted her phone and snapped a photo of him. "Why do you need a picture of me right now?"

"To show the world that even Max Verstappen, three time world champion, record breaker and maker, is sometimes late for a meeting."

Dragging a hand over his face, he sighed. "You're in a strange mood today."

"I'm getting comfortable. It's what I do. Lull everyone into thinking I'm sweet and quiet, then once I know I can relax I let my true self out."

"I'm scared to ask what your true self is," he admitted, ignoring his phone when it began to buzz with a phone call.

"Chaos," she told him, snapping another photo. "And I'm so putting a team logo pillow on your bed next week."

"No," he warned her as she turned to go back down the stairs. "No pillow."

"Go to your meeting or I'll post on Twitter than you have Red Bull boxers!"

"You wouldn't."

"Try me, rich boy."

And, damn everything, he laughed. She spun at the bottom of the stairs, giving him a smile that was pure sunshine. Not about to tempt fate, he held up his hands in surrender and went to the conference room for the meeting, still smiling as he slid into his seat next to Checo. When the meeting was over he hung back, his smile long gone as he waited for whatever Christian had to say.

"Two things," Christian started, leaning back in his seat with a sigh.

Max rolled his water bottle between his hands and stayed silent.

"Your dad."

He nodded. "I'll talk to him—"

"He's on probation now. If he so much as looks at anyone the wrong way, he'll be banned from the garage and the paddock." Christian steepled his hands. "It would probably be best if I did it now, but…"

"I'll talk to him," Max said again, already dreading that conversation. "Sometimes he speaks before he thinks, and unfortunately y/n was on the receiving end."

"Are you defending him?"

"No. I'm saying…" What was he saying? He didn't even know himself, so how could he explain it to Christian?

"You're saying what he would expect you to say. Max." Christian leaned forward. "I know he's your father. But – what did y/n say? He creates a toxic environment."

Max was on his feet and pacing before he realized he was moving. "What do you want me to do? Cut him out of my life completely? He's my dad. He made me who I am." Slinging his cap onto the table, he ran a hand through his hair. "He gave up on a marriage so I could achieve my dreams. I know people call it abuse and yeah if I could change the past I would, or at least some parts, but… Would I be me if he didn't do what he did?"

Christian sighed and Max hung his head. The bitterness between team principal and his father had been around as long as he could remember. And he understood, he did. Most days even he didn't like Jos that much.

"What he said to y/n was unacceptable. I know that. When she told me, I…" He paused, unsure whether he wanted to admit what his first thoughts had been. Starting to pace again, he stopped at the window and looked outside, noting that the earlier clouds had rolled away. "I was ready to tell you to ban him."

Christian nodded. "You sure you want to talk to him? Because I'll do it. I don't have a problem telling him to go fuck himself."

"I should do it," Max said with a sigh.

There was silence from Christian, and Max finally snatched up his hat and sat back down. "I'll do it, Max."

He would never admit to the rush of relief at those words. "What was the other thing?"

"Y/n."

He set his jaw. "What about her?"

"She's off limits."

Max blinked. "How do you mean?"

"I've seen the way you look at her."

He pinched his eyebrows together. He wasn't aware he'd been looking at her in any particular way. He just…looked at her. It was true that she did make him smile a little bit more than he usually did, but that had to be due to her self-professed chaos—

"It's in her contract. Yours too, I'm sure."

"I'm – Nothing's happened." Yes, she'd slept in his private room and yes, his sheets had smelled of her and given him dreams he shouldn't have been dreaming. But nothing else had happened.

Soft hands, plush hips, bright eyes, lush mouth—

"Keep it that way. We can't afford another PR disaster."

Max snorted, unsure how anything he did – not that he would do anything – with y/n could come close to the disaster Christian had caused. "I'm not texting her, so."

"Cheeky bastard," Christian muttered. "Go get prepped for practice."

Grabbing his water bottle from the floor, Max left. Off limits. What the hell did that even mean? He couldn't be friendly with her? He couldn't keep his promise to watch a movie with Kevin?

Fuck Christian anyway, he wasn't one to talk about someone being off limits, he decided. He went down for another coffee, inconspicuously looking around for y/n. Not seeing her, he turned his attention to the upcoming practice, trying his best to push his worries about his father to the back of his mind.

When he approached the garage he saw her, and he frowned slightly when he saw Logan talking to her. Did they know each other? They obviously did, judging by the way she laughed at something he said. Sourness filled his mouth and he gulped down his water, grunting when a hand suddenly clapped his shoulder.

"Mate, you coming out tonight?" Lando asked with a grin.

"Not a good idea to go out before quali, mate," Max said automatically.

"I'm not gonna get drunk. A few of us are just going out to eat. You in?"

"I think I'll skip it. But we'll go out Sunday?"

Lando's grin widened and Max chuckled, knowing he was remembering what little he could of the celebration in Miami. Lando loved to party after a race. "Absolutely. Good practice, yeah?"

Max grinned, bumping fists with him before they parted. The American was still talking to y/n. Didn't he need to get ready? Go fluff his hair or something? Walking up to them, he nodded at Logan. "Have a good practice alright, mate?"

"Oh, yeah, better get to the garage." Logan turned and flashed a smile at y/n. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure. Be safe," she said.

She was smiling a little too hard, in his opinion. And then she was—

Hugging? Him?

Max felt like he might vomit.

"Later, Max," Logan said as he jogged off.

"What did he want?" Max asked.

She looked up from checking something on her camera. "Hm? Oh, nothing, just chatting. He's nice."

"Yeah, a complete sweetheart," he said with a roll of his eyes. Then, shoving the sourness away, he cleared his throat. "I've got the sim racing tomorrow after quali, then the race is Sunday."

Y/n blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yes?"

"I promised Kevin we'd watch the movie?" he reminded her.

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it, I know you're too busy. He hasn't even mentioned it again, I'm sure he's already forgotten." She turned slightly and knelt to take pictures of his car in the garage.

"But I promised."

"Max, it's really not that big a deal."

It was. To her it might not be. If she couldn't do something with her son when she had promised she could, she was able to do it another time. He couldn't just show up to her flat to watch a movie. And Kevin had been so excited… He tried not to remember all the promises that had been made to him as a child, promises he had learned at an early age would never be kept. "Y/n…"

She looked up at him, drawing a breath to, he was sure, tell him again that it was fine. But she paused, studying his face, and he heard her sigh as she lowered the camera. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"

"And to Kevin," he pointed out.

"He did talk about it a lot last night before he went to sleep. Made sure the hotel tv had Disney plus and asked if Ellie would buy some popcorn…" She sighed, smiling. "Did you want to do it next week before Monaco?"

"I was thinking today? After the practice and debrief. If you're not too busy," he added, unintentionally looking towards the Williams garage.

"No, I don't have any plans. Just editing and posting, and I can do that while you two watch a movie. I've got plans for dinner, but there's plenty of time."

"Plans?" he asked, trying his best to sound casual.

"Yeah! Logan offered to take me out to see a little of the town. He's offered to be my tour guide."

At night. Now he knew he would vomit. "How delightful," he managed.

"Yeah, he's sweet. Don't worry, I won't give away any secrets."

The sourness returned, doubled, and he recognized it now as jealousy. Which was beyond ridiculous, because she wasn't his to be jealous over. Seeing that she was about to stand he immediately offered his hand, easily steadying her as she rose to her feet.

"Thanks."

He wondered what sort of cream she used on her hands. They were so soft. "Y/n—"

"Max!"

Y/n's smile faded and she practically snatched her hand away. "I'll message you the hotel info," she said, turning on her heel and sweeping into the garage.

"I need to talk to you," his father demanded.

Looking into the garage, he saw that he had a full thirty minutes before practice began. No way out of this conversation. Nodding, he followed his father to a relatively secluded spot, keeping his head down.

*-*

"His father is such an asshole, honestly. We were talking outside the garage and he marched up like he owns the—" Y/n glanced to make sure Kevin still had his headphones on and wasn't listening in. Seeing that he did and wasn't, she turned back to Ellie. "—fucking place and barked at him all 'I need to talk to you' like the guy isn't about to go out on the track."

Ellie made a face. "What a prick. What did he have to say to him that was so important?"

Y/n shrugged, bending to gather the dirty pair of socks off the floor. "No idea. He dragged him off and I could see them but couldn't hear anything. I felt so bad for Max."

"I would have too. And he didn't say anything when he got back to the garage?" Ellie smoothed the bedding while y/n stuffed the dirty laundry into a sack.

"Not to me." Sighing, y/n dropped the sack inside the bathroom and then got down on her hands and knees to make sure nothing embarrassing was lying around. "He looked like a kid getting yelled at, Ellie. I had no idea his dad was that much of an—"

She saw Kevin moving and stopped, getting to her feet while he set his tablet and headphones on the table. "Gotta pee, mama," he said, sliding out of the chair.

"Did you finish your game?" she asked while Ellie looked around to make sure the hotel room was presentable.

"Yeah, it's easy," Kevin said.

"Are you gonna tell him?" Ellie whispered.

"No… What if he can't make it? I don't want to get his hopes up." Y/n pushed the chair in at the table and checked the tablet, seeing that Kevin had indeed finished the alphabet game she'd downloaded that morning for him.

"If he doesn't come, maybe we can—" Ellie laughed when there was a knock at the door. "Never mind."

"It might not be him," y/n muttered, even though she knew it had to be. He'd been so insistent, and she'd been able to tell that it was possibly more important to him than it would be to Kevin.

"I'll make sure the lil rugrat washes his hand," Ellie murmured, slipping into the bathroom.

Y/n rubbed her hands on her thighs and went to open the door, giving the hotel room one last glance before doing so. And, just as she'd known, Max was in the hallway. "Hey," she greeted softly, eyes widening a little when she saw he was wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie. "Holy shit, you're allowed to wear non-Red Bull clothes?"

He snorted, letting out a laugh when she just stared at him. "Very funny."

"No, no, I'm serious. Isn't that in your contract or something?" Stepping back, she finally gave him a grin. "C'mon in."

"I don't know if he's allowed, but I brought some sweets." Max held up the grocery bag hanging from one finger.

"Yeah, he's allowed. No allergies or anything," she assured him, closing the door once he'd stepped inside. "He's washing his—"

"Mister Max!"

Y/n nearly teared up. Her son sounded so excited, and she had a moment of panic for letting him befriend Max. He was too busy to drop by regularly, and after Monaco Kevin would be staying home with Ellie, so—

"There's my little mate!"

Fuck's sake, even Max sounded excited. As though a movie with a three year old was the height of his day. Looking on as he swung Kevin up and spun him in a circle, she took the bag and emptied the packets onto the table while Ellie greeted Max and brought out the popcorn from where she'd hidden it from Kevin. Max and Kevin talked nonstop to one another, Max telling him about practice after Kevin gave him a detailed report on what he'd done all day. The boy grabbed his tablet and showed him the games he'd played, showing off his alphabet skills.

"You're good with letters, yeah? Maybe you'd be good learning a new language?" Max suggested.

"Do you know a new language?" Kevin asked.

"He's really good with him," Ellie whispered to y/n.

"Shh," she hissed. Because she already knew. And she didn't need it pointed out to her. Besides, she was listening to Max tell Kevin about the languages he spoke, then to him rattle off a few sentences in each one, much to Kevin's amazement.

"Can you teach me?" he asked hopefully.

"When I can, kleine maat." Max ruffled Kevin's hair. "That means little mate."

"You're my big mate," Kevin decided.

"Grote maat," Max said, repeating it slowly a couple times before Kevin said it properly. "There you go. You'll be speaking Dutch like a pro in no time."

"You want a drink, Max?" Y/n offered. "We don't have Red Bull, sorry—"

"Water's fine. Thanks."

"Can I have water too, mama?"

Nodding, y/n fixed their drinks while Kevin turned on the TV and opened Disney+, rolling her eyes when he told Max the password so he could put it in for him. She saw that Ellie was putting on her shoes and raised her eyebrows. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, I don't want to intrude on big mate, little mate bonding time," Ellie said with a small smile. Peeling Kevin from Max long enough to give him a quick hug, she grabbed her wallet and phone. "And I've seen Mulan about six hundred times, so I'm just gonna go for a walk. Take pictures. Get a coffee and a pastry."

"Have fun," y/n said.

"Mhmm, you too," Ellie said with a smirk as she left.

She rolled her eyes and handed Max his drink then Kevin his cup. Motioning for Max to have a seat on the small sofa, she couldn't help but smile when Kevin immediately climbed to sit next to him, and had the feeling that before the movie was over her son would be cuddled close to his big mate.

"Join us?" Max asked while Kevin looked for the movie.

"Work," she reminded him, transferring the sweets and popcorn to the coffee table and getting her laptop. "I'll watch from here."

"It doesn't look very comfortable."

"It shouldn't. It's work."

He looked ready to argue, but instead took a sip of his water and grabbed a bag of candy. Tossing it onto the table, he gave a small shrug when she looked at him. "You said you like strawberry milk."

Y/n looked from him to the bag several times. He remembered that? She'd mentioned it during the Q and A, when the question had been other than red bull what's your favorite drink? Staring at the bag, she felt a sudden rush of warmth. No one had bought her candy in so long… "Thank you," she murmured.

"You're welcome," he said softly.

She almost told him he didn't have to, but she knew that he already knew that. He'd done it because… She didn't know. Maybe to apologize for his father's behavior. Maybe to show he listened. Maybe, just maybe, because he'd seen it in the shop, remembered her liking strawberry milk, and had bought it because that was something he did, buy a little something for no other reason than you said you liked it.

She tried to focus on work, but the movie kept getting her attention. Finally she gave up, scheduling the posts she'd edited and closing her laptop. Grabbing a bottle of water, she joined them on the sofa as Mushu revealed himself to Mulan. As she'd expected, Kevin had already crawled into Max's lap, sharing his bag of popcorn with the man as they both focused on the movie.

"Mama," Kevin whispered, reaching for her.

She scooted closer, sighing as he turned so he could lean against her arm. Max shifted, and she tried to act nonchalant when he draped his arm behind her on the back of the sofa. Smoothing her son's hair, she pretended not to notice when the arm slid to her shoulders. He probably hadn't even noticed, she told herself, aware that his eyes were locked on the TV screen, paying attention to the movie. When Kevin's favorite part began he sat up, quickly sliding to the floor to sing along and she fully expected Max to pull away from her.

But he didn't, and she pulled her knees up, unable to focus on anything except the weight of his arm around her. It was solid but not uncomfortable, a very real reminder that she hadn't been in this position in a very long time.

"He's so mean," Kevin mumbled as Shun-Yu appeared on the screen. Y/n waited for him to hurry over to climb into her lap but he chose Max instead, and she bit back a sigh when the man gently soothed him, hugging him close.

"It's okay, kleine maat. The good guys will beat him, yeah?" he murmured, pausing the movie.

Kevin nodded against Max's shoulder. "Yeah but he's bad."

"A lot of people are," Max said softly. "But if we focus on that we don't see the good. Do you think about your happy days more or your bad days?"

"Happy days," Kevin said.

"Because they make you happy, yeah? If you think about bad days you'll always be having them. It's like that with people. Focus on the good and do what you can to keep the bad from happening. Bad happens, but the good will always be there."

"Okay."

"You ready to finish the movie?" Max asked gently.

Kevin nodded.

Max finally looked at y/n, glancing down when he saw the way she was staring at him. "I didn't—"

"No, you're good," she promised in a whisper, picking up the remote to resume the movie then hugging her knees. If she didn't occupy her arms, she would throw them around him. Usually she had to explain those things to Kevin. Ellie helped, of course, but Kevin always came to her for more explanation after a life lesson. But Max… He'd explained it so eloquently and gently that he'd understood. And she didn't know why, but, god help her…

It was the sexiest thing she'd ever witnessed.

His arm stayed around her shoulders through the rest of the movie. When Mulan was cast out, she got a little emotional as she always did, even after over six hundred views, and she felt his arm tighten around her, hesitating a tiny bit before letting her head lean against him. All she could smell now was him, the gentle but memorable sandalwood and amber scent that she remembered well from the day before.

"Gotta pee," Kevin announced a little bit later, clambering down and running to the bathroom. Max took the remote to pause the movie.

Y/n began to pull away, lifting her head when he squeezed her arm.

"You're fine," he whispered.

His face was so close. Seeing a tiny piece of popcorn on his chin, she reached up to brush it away, freezing at the sound of his sharp inhale. "Sorry, you got a little…"

When the hell had his eyes become so blue? Just a day ago they'd been a normal blue. Now they reminded her of the antique blue willow china her great grandmother had treasured. Her gaze slipped to his mouth and quickly moved back to his eyes and she heard him inhale again.

"Max?"

"Y/n, I…" His eyes flicked down and she unconsciously licked her lips.

She knew she shouldn't but she suddenly, desperately, wanted to know what it was like to kiss him. She hadn't thought about kissing anyone in what felt like a lifetime, but now she needed it. Lifting her chin slightly, she dropped her hand to his chest. "Max—"

"Y/n, you… I—"

"Okay!"

She snatched herself away from Max as though she'd been burned, going so far as to jump to her feet while Kevin rushed back to the sofa. "Go ahead and hit play, I'll be back in just a minute," she promised, nearly tripping over nothing in her haste to get as far away from Max as possible. "Hit play, it's fine, I've seen it a million times."

Once in the bathroom she closed the door and leaned against it, covering her face with both hands. What the hell was wrong with her? Just because she hadn't been kissed since— She dropped her hands, wrinkling her nose in thought. Kevin was three years and two months, and… At any rate, it had been so long she'd assumed she was never going to be kissed again. She hadn't even thought about it in ages, because she'd been so focused on work and raising her son and trying to survive. Now, all of a sudden, she was craving one so bad she'd practically begged him.

He'd been about to tell her he couldn't. She was sure of that. Which only made it even more embarrassing. How could he even want to? She'd seen the girlfriends of other drivers on the grid, there was no way he'd be even remotely interested in her. She wasn't a model or tennis star or whatever their occupations were.

Not to mention she couldn't. It would be wrong on so many levels. What kind of impression would her behavior leave on her son? Not to mention the troubles it would cause at work? And it was in her contract that any sort of fraternization with other members of the team were forbidden. She'd known that but she had read the full contract on the flight to Italy. If she and Max did anything it would eventually come out and she'd be jobless again, this time in a foreign country.

Checking her phone when she felt it buzz in her pocket, she sighed while reading Logan's text.

We're still on right?

She wanted to say no. The best thing for her to do would be to suffer through the rest of the movie, say goodbye to Max, have an early dinner, put Kevin to bed, then take the world's coldest shower. But she was already typing out her reply.

Of course! Looking forward to it.

And she was, she thought, seeing the delivered change to read then the three little dots that he was typing a message. Logan was fun. Nice. Completely uninterested in her romantically, she thought with a sigh.

Great. Be there at 8 to pick you up. Give Kev a high 5 for me?

Will do.

Pushing away from the door, she turned on the water to wash her hands and jumped slightly when there was a gentle knock.

"Y/n?"

"I'm almost done," she called.

She heard his sigh. "Can I come in?"

No. "Yeah, sure."

He opened the door and stepped in, and she swallowed when he closed the door behind him. "I…"

"Max, don't," she groaned, washing her hands and grabbing the towel. "You don't have to tell me you wouldn't have… Even if I wanted you to. I know."

"Wouldn't have what?" he asked.

God, could the moment get any more embarrassing? "I – You – Jesus, never mind."

"Kiss you?" he murmured.

Why did the way he said it sound like so much more than a kiss? "It's fine. Go back and finish the movie."

"Y/n, I can't."

"You have to leave?" she asked.

"What – no, not the movie," he said. Cupping a hand over his mouth, he breathed deeply and dropped his hand after a few seconds, looking pained. "I can't kiss you."

"Oh." Oh. "Do you have a girlfriend or—"

"If I had a girlfriend I wouldn't be in this tiny toilet with you."

And she believed him. He didn't seem the type to put himself in a situation that could be misinterpreted if he had a partner. "Right. Of course. Then…"

"It's…" He sighed.

"Are you gay? Because I won't tell any—"

"I'm not gay," he cut in gently. "It's… I'm not allowed to kiss you."

She blinked, suddenly understanding. And she wondered if he'd read the contract, too. "Right. Neither am I."

"Christian talked to you too?"

"No? Why would he?"

"He told me you're off limits." Max shook his head. "Said I look at you or something."

"Oh." He did? And just how did Max look at her? "I see."

"And it's in our contracts. Yours and mine, I mean. So… I can't."

She nodded. "Of course. Understood. No more explanation necessary, Max."

"I wouldn't want you to lose your job," he said softly.

She continued to nod. "Got it. Thanks."

He tipped his head, then reached to take the towel from her and she realized she was still drying her hands. "I'll still be Kevin's friend."

Still nodding, she picked up her hand cream and squeezed a dollop into her palm. "Thanks. He likes you."

"I like him too." He hesitated, watching her carefully. "You okay?"

"Peachy keen," she promised, rubbing the cream into her hands. "Just getting ready for my dinner."

His lips settled into a fine line. "Your date."

The way he said it irritated her. As though she was in the wrong for making plans with a new friend. "It's not a date, but yes."

"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time," he said with absolutely no emotion.

"Well, he's not contractually obligated to be nice to me, so… I know I will," she said, forcing as much sweetness into her voice as possible.

"I'm not nice because of a contract," he snapped.

"Right, sorry, my mistake. He won't not kiss me because of a piece of paper," she corrected.

Max's eyes flashed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "I thought it wasn't a date?" he asked carefully.

Good, at least he had some emotion. "Oh, so I'm only allowed to kiss him if we're on a date?"

"I didn't say—" He cut off, pressing his lips tight together and exhaling slowly. "You said it wasn't a date."

"Why do you care either way?"

"Is it a date or not?" he ground out.

"It's not." She took her hair down from the ponytail as he sighed with something like relief. "But it could be in the future."

"What, so you'll kiss him because I won't kiss you?"

"If I kiss him, it'll be because both of us want it," she said. She knew she was being silly, maybe even a little stupid. But he was acting as though he were doing her a favor. As though he were somehow honorable, a gentleman even, because he refused to do what she now knew they both wanted.

"Y/n, I can't—"

"A word I'm sure you're not used to saying about yourself," she muttered under her breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, an edge in his voice.

"I didn't know that 'can't' was in your vocabulary is all." Looking at her phone to check the time, she cleared her throat. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to change."

He hesitated while she opened her makeup bag. "Do you want to kiss him?"

"Why do you care?"

He visibly bristled. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Does he have a reputation for hurting women?" She picked up her hairbrush, and had brushed out her hair completely before he finally answered.

"No." It sounded like it hurt him to say it. "He's nice."

"Then you don't have to worry."

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, no." She laughed humorlessly. "You don't get to ask that. Now please, I have to change."

He stared at her, looking annoyed and irritated, his jaw still twitching. Then, with a huff, he turned to open the door. And froze when he saw the dress hanging from the hook. "Is… That's what you're wearing?"

"Oh my god, Max, you're starting to sound like a jealous boyfriend."

"I'm not jealous," he snorted.

"And you're not my boyfriend," she snapped.

She waited for him to turn around and restart their argument. Altercation. Whatever it was. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and snatched the door open. Went out, closing it. And sounded perfectly normal when he apologized to Kevin and resumed the movie.

Y/n was still annoyed even after changing and doing her makeup. She fussed over her hair, unsure whether she wanted to wear it up or down, finally leaving it down. She was fully aware that she was putting more work into her appearance than she would have if Max hadn't said what he had, and still knew she was being silly and stupid. Hadn't she just told herself nothing could happen between them?

Yes, but maybe if he hadn't acted as though he were doing an immense favor she wouldn't be so upset. I wouldn't want you to lose your job. Indicating that if he kissed her and they were found out, his job was secure.

"Sanctimonious prick," she muttered while she spritzed perfume on her wrists and rubbed them together. As she exited the bathroom the outer door of the room opened and Ellie came in, her jaw dropping when she saw her.

"Holy shit babes, you look amazing!"

She smiled, doing a turn for her friend. "You think so?"

"His jaw is gonna be on the floor the whole time. Holy shit, milf alert." Ellie whistled softly, waving her hand as though overcome with heat.

Y/n giggled. "Thanks."

The movie was ending and Kevin oohed and aahed over her dress, telling her over and over how pretty she was. Max stared at her, his jaw set, but said nothing, looking away and starting to clear up the remains of the snacks.

"Isn't she pretty, grote maat?" Kevin asked.

And even though her back was to him, she felt his gaze. Glancing over her shoulder at him while she fastened her necklace, she watched his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "Very pretty, kleine maat."

"You're supposed to tell her," Kevin whispered. "Always tell a lady she's beautiful. Right, aunt Ellie?"

"That's right, buddy," Ellie said proudly. She gave y/n an odd look, silently asking what had happened, narrowing her eyes when y/n merely shrugged.

"Because women are pretty all the time," Kevin went on and y/n smiled. At least she was doing something right…

After fastening her earrings she turned from the dresser, breath catching in her throat when she found Max staring at her. Vaguely aware of Ellie telling Kevin to wash his hands so they could eat the dinner she'd brought, she squatted, getting her heels from her suitcase, along with her shawl.

"Je bent mooi," Max said.

She met his gaze as she rose to her feet. "What's that mean?"

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

"Thank you." And though she knew it was catty, she couldn't help the words that slipped out of her mouth. "Do you think Logan will like it?"

His jaw twitched. "He'd be stupid not to."

"That doesn't answer my question," she practically cooed, slipping on her heels.

He made a sound of disgust in his throat. "He's annoying and dumb sometimes, but he's not stupid. So, yes, I think he'll like it."

"Look at you, hyping me up." She wasn't stupid either, she could hear and feel the jealousy. Good, she thought, getting her small handbag and transferring her few necessities to it.

"Is he picking you up?" Max asked. "Or are you meeting him somewhere?"

"Are you gonna stick around and question his intentions?" she scoffed. "Because if so, I'm meeting him."

"I just—"

"Do you want some pasta, Mister Max?" Kevin asked as he came out of the bathroom with Ellie.

"Ah, maybe next time," Max said after clearing his throat. "You eat some for me, hm?"

She wanted to be mad that he was so good with her son. Proclaim they could only ever be coworkers, then turn around and continue to be her son's favorite person. It wasn't fair. But she didn't want him to be mean to Kevin. So she smiled, fixing her shawl while Max told Kevin he would see him at quali tomorrow, wishing she could stay mad at him but that was impossible, especially when he lifted her son up and gave him a tight hug, telling him he'd enjoyed the movie.

"Can we watch another one day?" Kevin asked hopefully and y/n drew in a breath, prepared to say they couldn't ask Max that, he was too busy.

"Of course we can. You pick the movie and we'll watch it next week?"

He gave Kevin another hug then gently encouraged him to eat his dinner, smiling and saying goodnight to Ellie. Then he turned to her, and she felt an unexpected heat ripple through her as his eyes slowly looked her up and down.

"Thanks for coming," she murmured, walking him to the door.

"I enjoyed it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "For the most part."

"Kevin had a great time."

"Yes. And that's all that matters."

Ouch. "Goodnight, Max."

"Enjoy your dinner with Logan."

"I will."

He rocked back on his heels, exhaling harshly. "I'm…" He cleared his throat. "Goodnight, y/n."

She closed the door and bit back a whine. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

"Talk tonight when you get back?" Ellie asked gently, watching her while she fixed Kevin's plate.

"It's nothing," she insisted, double checking that she had everything in her handbag. Phone, ID and passport, room key, lipstick, mirror. "Just being stupid."

"You're not stupid, mama," Kevin said anxiously.

"I know, thank you. Sorry. Just feeling stupid."

"But you look so pretty," he told her.

She smiled, sighing as she crossed the room to kiss his cheek. "You're the best son in the world, you know that?"

He giggled, rubbing the lipstick from his cheek. "And you're the best mama."

"Only because you're the best son," she insisted.

"Do you like Mister Logan?" he asked suddenly, scrunching his face when she fastened the bib around his neck.

"He's nice. But he's just a friend."

"But." Kevin's lips poked out in thought. "He's taking you on a date."

"Dinner. You know how you miss Cotton?" She took a napkin and cleaned the smudge of lipstick from his cheek when he nodded. "He misses America sometimes. It's kind of like when you pet the cats on your walks."

"Ohh…" Kevin nodded with all the understanding a three year old could muster. "So he's gonna pet you?"

She blinked, instinctively reaching to swat Ellie's arm when her friend choked back a giggle. "Not exactly," she groaned. "We're just gonna talk."

Ellie was still giggling ten minutes later when Logan knocked on the door. "Sorry, sorry," she gasped when y/n shot her a glare. "I'll behave."

"That'll be the day," y/n muttered under her breath as she went to open the door. "Hey," she greeted warmly, smiling up at him.

He was dressed in slacks, a button down, and a jacket. His smile faded a little as he stared at her, and she saw his throat move as he swallowed. "Whoa. You look great."

"Thanks. You do too."

She let him in so Kevin could say hi, ducking into the bathroom to fix her lipstick and remind herself that it was just dinner. Logan was just a friend, or at least would hopefully be a friend. Saying goodnight to her son, she felt her shawl slipping, ignoring Ellie's knowing look when Logan immediately reached to catch it, his hands gentle as he draped it over her shoulders. Just dinner. Just dinner with just a friend.

But when they walked down the street to the restaurant, which was just around the corner, and his hand brushed hers she told herself it was alright. And when he slipped his hand protectively over hers she didn't pull away. In the restaurant when Lando and a few others called out to him she hung back, blushing when Logan gently tugged her along to greet his friends.

"Didn't know you had a date tonight, mate," Oscar commented, nodding to her in greeting.

She could have corrected him. Could have announced to everyone that it wasn't a date. But Logan's bashful chuckle warmed her and she smiled. "We American's have to stick together," she said, enjoying Logan's laugh.

"You know, England is an ally," Lando said with a smirk.

"Still haven't forgiven you for taxation without representation," she sighed.

"That wasn't me," Lando defended while the others laughed.

"Your ancestors though," Oscar told him.

"They were doing what they thought was right? How am I at fault now?"

"You opened your mouth," Carlos said with a laugh.

"C'mon, babe, our table's ready," Logan murmured, hand slipping to the small of her back.

"Enjoy your date!" Oscar called after them.

"I hope you trip over your independence!" Lando yelped when Oscar elbowed him.

Laughing, y/n let Logan guide her to the other side of the dining room, where they were thankfully shielded from the table of drivers. He held the chair for her and she thanked him while the waiter handed them the menus.

"I'm sorry about that. Oscar and Lando… I should have told them it wasn't a date," Logan said once they were alone.

"It's fine," she assured him. "I mean, technically, it is a date."

"I guess so. I just don't want you thinking I'm making it out to more than it is."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Two friends, hopefully. Spending time together." He looked up from his menu. "Probably should have taken you somewhere more casual, huh? This place makes it look like I'm trying to impress you."

She hadn't thought of it like that. "…Are you trying to impress me?"

"Do you want me to?"

Their eyes met and she slowly inhaled, thinking over what the best answer would be.

So you'll kiss him because I won't kiss you?

Do you want to kiss him?

She exhaled, sending thoughts of Max as far away as possible. "I think I do."

He looked relieved and oh, so handsome in this light. "Then I might be trying to impress you a little."

"You're doing amazing so far."

taglist

@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris | @kravitzwhore | @younxii | @silentreader128 | @samantha-chicago | @mrsbrxkkxr | @cmleitora |

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[deadghosy]

HOW THEY REACT TO CHILD READER GETTING BULLIED:

Various x GN! CHILD READER

LUCIFER

You were in your chamber holding your busted up backpack as your father comes in happy to see his little angel after school. As he walks in your room he sees your deflated attitude as it affects him as well.

“What’s wrong darling?”

Is what he says as he keeps a calm posture until reveal to him that you are getting by the kids. You told him how the teachers don’t do shit for you as they only watch you get bullied and give shitty advice for you to only ignore them and not do anything as they do stuff to you.

Well, that drives your father, the king himself, THE BIG BOSS OF HELL HIMSELF TO FUMES!

His eyes turning a flashing red as the next thing you know he poofed into a red mist.

You were confused until you heard screaming outside, you checked your big window to see your school in flames. And holy shit….the worse teacher is on fire as Lucifer chuckles saying.

“DONT FUCK WITH MY CHILD!”

He calmed down when he came back home telling you gently that you are now home schooled. He also brings you your favorite ice cream.

ALASTOR

Alastor hums walking through the hotel’s hallway until he hears sniffles of yours.

Alastor opens your door confused with a small smile to see his little doe curled up like a ball on your bed

“My doe…what’s wrong?”

The moment you mutter that you are getting picked on. They’re already dead.

Like literally he sends his shadows to kill them. He doesn’t care as long as you feel safe and sound.

He might as well home school you as well with the help of Charlie teaching you things beside him.

ADAM

I HARDLYYYYY doubt that there are bullies in heaven as heaven isn’t for sinners or such as people who act rude as hell.

But let’s just say you get bullied for not getting your wings yet and you come home mad and ashamed for even being an angel.

Adam was on his Xbox seeing his own child stomp off to their room, he raises a brow going to your room.

“Yo kiddo. What’s up with you, little shit?” He asked as he knocks on your door only for you to yell at him to leave you alone. Adam scoffs and unlocks your door pissed off.

“Who the fuck you think you’re…yelling at?” He stops seeing your tear filled face as you cover yourself under your blanket. He actually looks concerned and sits on your bed awkwardly not knowing how to comfort you but he pats your back as you nuzzle against his larger Frame of your father.

You told him what happened and he is pissed but not raged. He starts to lecture you about how you are the dickmaster’s child, so you should show them how fucking powerful you are.

He also tells sera about this so she can get them a punishment about how be a perfect angel.

CHARLIE

You straight up told her you were getting bullied for having two moms. And she took this to the principal of the school as the princess, future queen probably of hell.

Let’s say the principal didn’t give a fuck. So okay maybe she got big mad and almost spit fire at the lady in charge of your school. But she exited that school letting you treat yourself with ice cream and treats.

She decided to homeschool you with VAGGIE and the other hotel staff to teach you things they know.

“Mommy has a treat for you!”

It was the best day ever for you as you felt happy to spending time with your mom.

Maybe it won’t be bad to be homeschooled

VAGGIE

You got bullied for the same reason.

Having two awesome gay moms. Of course you told your mom straight up as she nodded scheduling to meet the kid’s parents. She’s not backing down like a pussy cause she wants to know why they want to bully her kid.

After the little conference filled of yelling and berating to the point vaggie thrown a pocket knife pass a person (pilot reference) she left picking you off fuming with steam.

Of course Charlie calmed her down and suggested you either get homeschooled or find a better school. Which VAGGIE will agree either way with one of them.

“Let’s go home kiddo. Your momma is making your favorite…”

“YAYY!”

ANGEL DUST

He obviously didn’t know what to do.

You got bullied by your peers as one of the older kids figured out that your father is an adult actor. I mean damn. You fought back saying that you didn’t care and he stilled loved you.

But then your ass got cracked and you had to tell your father

Angel dust just takes you out of school and let’s Charlie teach you things so he can figure out how to make you feel safe at another school of such

“DONT worry kid. I’ll figure a way for me to a shame to you.

“But you aren’t! I love you papa!”

HUSK

You’re getting bullied?

Bet.

Literally he isn’t gonna do shit, he is just gonna go to that school obverse and single them out for bullying his child. He doesn’t give a shit if it’s a kid as well.

He might as well be the kinda of dad that lets you fight your own battles. But he can’t let you just come home crying about how shitty your school is.

“Wanna chill with your old man?”

“Sure pops…”

PENTIOUS

Sir Pentious was bringing you cookies like the one he made for Lucifer. He hums happily with his egg boiz behind him. He walks in your room to see one of his egg boiz, Frank patting your back while you cry softly.

“DONT worry lil boss. I think you’re amazing!” Frank says as Pentious was confused and sit the cookies down. Your snake father asked what was wrong when you told him what happened after school.

Pentious pufffs out his chest as he kisses your head and leaves the hotel to talk to Charlie about this event. Charlie have a decent answer to either talk to the kids parents or homecschool at least. But Pentious felt like that wasn’t enough.

So he bombed their houses with his egg boiz as he came back to the hotel to see Frank and you eating snacks Charlie and vaggie made you to feel better. Your snake father slithered next to you and pats your head.

“Now they shall never bother you again!” *evil laughter*

[lordprettyflackotara]

forgot about jack || eyeless jack & jeff the killer

tw: smut, 18+, minors dni threesome, double penetration, knife play, freaky demon top, unrealistic sex but what else are you here for be fr

a/n: this may be the silliest plot to a smut i’ve ever written LMAO

“Oh cmon what the fuck is this?!”

Jeff’s voice boomed through out the living room. Jack sat unfazed on the couch, channel surfing on the television. “Something wrong Jeff?” He asked flatly. Jeff was always on one, always mad or triggered about something. It didn’t take a genius to get accustomed to his dramatic antics. Jeff stormed around the couch, blocking Jacks view of the television. He held out a newspaper in his hand.

“New women killers on the rise?! Look at this!” He ordered. His pale finger pointed to an article, Jack quickly gazing over it. He leaned to his right, trying to see the TV past Jeff. “Yes Jeff it is 2024, women can slaughter people just like we do,” Jack replied. He scanned the newspaper again, rolling his non existent eyes. You would’ve thought after him creating Jane and Nina he would’ve gotten a clue. “Nuh uh! They’re not just slaughtering folks EJ. They’re stealing credit for our hard work. Look again!” Jeff exclaimed. He flipped the page, pointing at the headline.

Eyeless Jill is at it again! Farmers lungs stolen!

Jack ripped the newspaper from his hands, rising to his feet. His eyebrows furrowed as he read the article. “What?! Who the actual fuck is Eyeless Jill?” Jack hissed He gripped the newspaper, examining the victims photo. “I took that fuckers kidneys! KIDNEYS! Who the fuck likes lungs? They’re so sour,” He rambled. Jeff crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. “Oh so you only care when it’s your work being stolen. I invented going to sleep,” Jeff grumbled. He couldn’t believe what he was reading.

“We have to do something about this! What kinda sick fuck would spin the narrative? Have they really forgotten about me?” Jack asked, sitting back down on the couch. He felt defeated, forgotten about. Jeff grinned devilishly as he pointed at the author.

“I say we should pay Y/n Y/l/n a little visit, don’t you think so Jacky?”

Both Jack and Jeff stood ominously in the shadows, admiring your house. “This house will look better burned to the ground,” Jeff muttered. He was salty about his article, or in better words, lack of one. Jane had stolen the front cover. “I want to see the bitch first,” Jack grumbled. He led the way, sliding into your living room window. Unlocked. Typical. Your house was further away from town. Jack thought humans were smarter than this. As he walked into your living room he concluded he was wrong.

Your small television played an old sitcom, the laugh track playing in the background as Jeff followed him. Jack signaled for him to check the kitchen, gesturing his head. Jeff stood still. “EJ I don’t think now is the time for a snack,” He whispered. Jack had to restrain himself from face palming. “Check the kitchen you dumbass,” He ordered. Jeff’s eyes narrowed. “Since when do I take orders from you? We-” He began, the blinding light of a flashlight diminishing their debate.

There you stood, a short satin baby blue nightgown barely covering your chest and thighs. Your innocent appearance almost made Jack falter, until he remembered the newspaper article. You didn’t seem to be armed and even if you were, Jack easily towered over you. “Holy shit you guys are real?” You gasped. You were clutching your cross necklace for dear life, the men exchanging looks. “Obviously we’re real! You’re obsessed with replacing us with women!” Jeff said. Jack sighed, yanking the newspaper out of his hoodie. He shoved it in front of you, your eyes bewildered with terror as he towered over you.

“See this? What the fuck is an Eyeless Jill?” He hissed. You skimmed the article, recognizing your own writing. “You do realize you guys are urban legends right? Not celebrities?! I didn’t even think you guys existed,” You argued. Somehow the pale killer without eyelids and eyeless demon didn’t seem to faze you, your temperament hot. “Well we do, we’re right here,” Jeff huffed. He crossed his arms, glaring at you. “So Eyeless Jill and Jane don’t exist then but you guys do?” You asked. Jack glanced at Jeff, who was not so subtly trying to signal him to not reveal Jane’s existence. “Well Jane does exist but that was Jeff’s kill,” Jack said. He smirked under his mask, paying Jeff back for his stupidity.

“Is she with you guys or?” You asked, glancing behind them. Jeff could have ripped a chunk of his hair out from irritation. “No she’s not with us! You should be honored to be in our presence you stupid slut!” Jeff spat. Jack noticed the subtle rubbing of your thighs, but pretended not to. “See right here it says go to sleep on the wall, Jane’s catch phrase is don’t go to sleep you won’t wake up,” Jack explained, pointing to the picture. You murmured an ‘oh’, studying the photograph. “Hello?! EJ stop simping and let’s get on with torching the place,” Jeff bellowed. You looked at Jeff, the pale killer losing his temper. “You guys want to burn down my house?” You questioned.

Jack shrugged, Jeff’s hand flying to his forehead. “It’s not my problem Jane does headlining kills and you don’t,” You argued. Aggressively you went to launch yourself at Jeff, the eyeless demon grabbing you and restraining you. “Oh and by the way i’m not simping. If I was her panties would be on the floor by now,” Jack told him. You thrashed under his grasp, desperate slap Jeff. “Oh please. If she’s going to drop her panties for either of us it would be me,” Jeff argued. Jack set you aside, stepping up to his partner in crime. “You’re always so cocky and i’ll never understand why. You think that pasty dick of yours could ever even compete with mine?” Jack snarled. Jeff gave him a cold smile, “I know it could.”

“Thats not what Jane said,” Jack debated. Jeff’s cockiness fell. “YOU FUCKED JANE?” He questioned. Quietly you slid on top of your kitchen table, your feet dangling as you watched the argument continue. “I did and i’ll go ahead and let you know she told me i’m better than you,” Jack informed him, mockingly patting his shoulder. Jeff let out a dramatic gasp. “We fucked when I was like fifteen that absolutely does not count,” Jeff hissed. Jack crossed his arms. “Oh really? Is there another girl we’ve both fucked that you’d like to ask?” Jack questioned. It was then the boys gaze landed on you, your perky nipples showing through your thin nightgown.

You gulped nervously, watching the two tall killers stride towards you. “You know she is a pretty one,” Jack murmured. He reached his hand out, stroking your jaw with his fingertips. You were practically shaking with fear and arousal. “No reason why we can’t share her, then have her tell us who’s better,” Jeff purred. Jack inhaled deeply, the smell of your arousal flooding his nostrils. He grinned mischievously under his mask. “I think she likes it when we talk about her like she isn’t here,” Jack informed Jeff. You rubbed your thighs together anxiously, looking up at the two men.

The demon brought his thumb to your lower lip, dragging it down slowly. Instinctively you opened your mouth, sucking on his thumb. Jack smirked as Jeff rounded the table, climbing onto it and placing himself behind you. Jack lowered himself to his knees, spreading your thighs. Removing his thumb from your mouth, you shared a look of lust. “Such a tiny little thing,” Jeff snickered. His pale hands explored your chest, sliding the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders and arms. Your breast were exposed to the cool night air, Jeff’s fingertips on them in a flash.

His touch was cold, Jack’s warm. “Why don’t you remove your mask Jacky, let the whore see what she’s letting fuck her?” Jeff asked. Jack slid off his royal blue mask, the demon staring up at him. Oozing black tar dripped from his eye sockets, coating his lower eyes. You shuddered at the sight, Jeff pinching your nipples. You gasped, a smile creeping across Jacks lips. Rows of razor sharp teeth revealed themselves behind his curled lips. “Scared yet?” Jeff taunted, his breath hot against your ear. Jack placed sloppy open mouth kisses to your thighs, his large hands keeping your thighs pried apart.

“Not in the slightest,” You lied boldly. Jeff snickered, sliding his knife out of his pocket. Jack nuzzled himself to your cunt, one of his tongues licking a stripe through the skimpy silk that was your panties. The pale killer brought the blade to your throat, the metal cool against your skin. You swallowed, fear and lust washing over you. “You’re fucking pathetic, letting us play with you. You’re scared now, aren’t you whore?” Jeff huffed. You could feel his boner poke you from behind, the sight of Jacks three black tongues making you shudder in fear. He pulled your panties to the side, watching you intently. He slowly slid one of them into your drenched cunt, another one toying with your clit.

You moaned, one of your hands flying to Jacks hair. The blade of the knife pressed against your throat harder, causing you to squeal. “Answer me bitch, you’re scared aren’t you?” Jeff hissed. You wanted to nod, the knife restricting you. Your hips desperately moved on their own, grinding against Jacks tongues. It was then you felt another one slide inside of you, curling upwards. “Fuck yes, i’m scared, but it feels so good,” You groaned. Jeff brought his knife down to your nipples, using the sharp tip to play with your nipples. Jacks tongues were curling upwards to hit your g spot, a knot forming inside of your stomach.

“Awe really? Does Jacky make you feel good?” Jeff asked tauntingly. He dragged the blade to your other nipple, poking at your sensitive buds. “Y-yes, so fucking good,” You moaned. Your fingers were yanking at his brown curls, your eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure. You were pathetically grinding against his face, your orgasm getting closer and closer. “Awe is someone gonna cum? For two killers? How filthy,” Jeff purred. He nibbled at your earlobe, your sinful noises bouncing off of the walls.

“C-c-cumming!” You stuttered, Jacks one last flick at your clit sending you over the edge. You could feel the thinnest line of blood forming across your neck, your thighs squeezing around Jacks head as you came down from your high. Jack slowly emerged from your cunt, a devious grin spread across his lips. “You taste so fucking good,” He panted. He rose to his feet, admiring your exposed figure. “You’re lucky I want to fuck you, otherwise i’d eat those pretty organs,” Jack purred. The boys rearranged you, Jack laying flat on the kitchen table. Jeff guided you to crawl on top of him, your ass in the air as you positioned yourself on all fours. Jack grinned as you met his gaze.

“With how big I am it’s better that I take your cunt,” Jack explained. You whimpered as you heard the clinking of both the boys belts. “I-I’ve never-” You stuttered, shaking with nerves. Jeff’s large hands grasped your ass, massaging the skin harshly. “We know doll, we’re making you our personal slut,” Jeff chuckled darkly. Jack guided his cock to your cunt, collecting your slick on his tip. He gave you a small smile. “This may hurt a little bit,” He warned. You grabbed onto his hoodie, your core throbbing in desire as Jack began to push himself into you. A mixture of moans and whines escaped your lips, your eyes screwed shut.

“There you go, you can take it,” Jack purred. He could hear your heartbeat speed up, the sound pleasurable to his ears. You felt Jeff spit on your other puckered hole, your knuckles turning pale from gripping Jack so hard. Once Jack bottomed out you felt Jeff’s finger teasing your other hole. You felt like you were being split in half by Jacks cock alone, the idea of taking Jeff’s unimaginable. “You’re so fucking tight,” Jack growled, his noises sounding animalistic. Jeff shoved a finger inside of your unexplored hole, a gasp being ripped out of your throat. “I’d start fucking her Jacky, she’s gonna be in the world of pain,” Jeff suggested.

Jack began to slowly move, his cock slowly exiting your dripping cunt. “Such a breedable cunt,” Jack muttered. His large hands grabbed the sides of your stomach, his cock returning to your cunt and brushing against your g spot. “Fuck, please go faster fucking please,” You pleaded. Who was Jack to deny you of that? Jack began to fuck you quickly, his hips snapping into yours. Jeff curled his finger inside of your other hole, the pain subsiding as Jack abused your cunt. “Thats a good fucktoy. Just be a babbling begging slut for us,” Jeff snickered. A sharp slap landed on your ass, causing an electric shock to shoot down your spine. Jeff inserted another finger, his patience thinning.

Watching Jack fuck you in front of him was too erotic, his cock twitching with urgency. The pale killer removed his fingers, spitting on your puckered hole again. “This may hurt, a lot,” He warned, smirking to himself as you whimpered. Jeff began pushing himself inside of you, your vision seeing stars. Your vision became spotty, strings of whimpers and moans escaping your lips. Your eyes were screwed shut, Jeff focused on bottoming out. You felt dizzy, a large hand cupping your face. Jacks touch was warm, the demon bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was unexpected, your body beginning to relax as he tenderly kissed you.

“Yeah that’s right, kiss her before I turn her mouth into my personal cum dump,” Jeff grunted. Your walls were spasming around the both of them, your body being pushed to its limits. Your eyes fluttered open, your vision still hazy as you groaned into Jacks mouth. Both of them began moving in unison, opposing the other’s pace. “Holy shit,” You cried. You felt so full, the killers having the time of their lives abusing your holes. “Fuck, you’re coming home with us. I need to breed you. Every fucking day,” Jack grunted. An animalistic growl was boiling in the bottom of his throat, his thrust becoming more intense.

His filthy words only made you clench around him tighter. Your sounds were uncontrollable, your body beginning to shake as they fucked you senseless. “Fuck fuck fuck, feels so- mmph!” You whined. You could feel the cord inside of you tightening again, the boys large hands holding your body up. “Such a pathetic whore. You gonna cum on our dicks?” Jeff taunted. You nuzzled your face into Jacks neck, your thighs violently shaking as you came around his cock. Your walls milking Jack sent him over the edge, his seed painting your inner walls with one final thrust. Jeff reached over, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you towards him. He relished in the whimpers of pain that escaped your lips, the killer tugging at the roots of your scalp as he came inside of your other hole.Jeff released your scalp, the three of you panting in unison as you came down from your highs.

\/

You stood in between Jack and Jeff, arms crossed. “Was this absolutely necessary?” You questioned. Jeff was practically bouncing with joy, your beloved farm house now engulfed in flames. You all watched as the flames spread further and further across the building. “I told you it would look better burnt down. I was right,” Jeff gleamed. You frowned, your baby blue nightgown barely covering your exposed skin as a night breeze blew past. “So where exactly am I supposed to go now?” You asked. Jeff carelessly tossed his handful of matches aside, throwing them into the fire. Jack followed suit, tossing his can of gasoline into the large flames.

“Didn’t you hear me? You’re coming home with us. You’ll never forget our names again.”

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Colossus/Fem!Reader

I've been infected with another fictional man the way in which I pumped this out was ridiculous. I happened to re watch the scene in the movies where the government breaks into the mansion and seeing Piotr act like a big brother/dad to all the kids really got to me. That and the Deadpool movies (even though I thinks he's a little stuffy in those.) I even rewatched the episode he had in the animated series so that I knew I would get his character right and DAMN ugh god I juts have a thing for big men with soft hearts. especially the ones who are family oriented.

ALSO HOLY SHIT TY FOR 600 FOLLOWERS???? when did yall get here???? I swear I was at like 48 two weeks ago lmao time flies when you're thirsty for the X men I guess!! TWs: None? No pronouns mentioned but I went ahead and labeled it as fem because it's basically about kids forcefully adopting you as their mom. Kids having night terrors mentioned.

Can you imagine sort of just being adopted by the students at the mansion as mutant mom?? At that point you don't really get a choice. Like you start out being very patient with these kids and making sure to keep bandaids, burn cream, pain meds and all of that because one way or another something is gonna happen- and you want to be prepared.

And then you start making breakfast. I feel like normally they probably have a schedule for who has breakfast duty but if you wake up and can't go back to sleep and you take over no one really cares. More sleep for them!!

And then a few times turns into every morning. And you're setting out ketchup for one kids eggs and syrup for another ones hashbrowns- and making sure not to cook with nuts and make sure there's at least three different things on the table that are Kosher or gluten free. Keeping an eye on everyone as they come to get food and noting who did and did not make it to breakfast this morning so that you can make sure they eat later-

And one day you're waking up at 5am and getting ready for the day so you can go make breakfast like always, and you look in the mirror at some point and just realise, holy fuck, when did you become a parent?

It's such a regular thing for kids to call you mom at that point, a knowing how so many of them have come from rough backgrounds, it makes you really happy to know they find comfort in you and will come find you if they need comforting.

And then there's Piotr. Big, strong, Piotr. Piotr who wakes up before dawn and does chores around the mansion in the early morning air. You can take the man out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the man. He does the lawn care, chops wood, takes care of whatever animals that might need feeding, replaces the feed in the bird feeder.

Piotr who makes sure to stop by the kitchen to share a small cup of coffee with you before he does chores. Piotr who hangs Hummingbird feeders right outside the kitchen windows because you mentioned you missed the ones your grandmother used to hang. Just Piotr, being strong and masculine and an absolute sweetheart.

He reminds me of that one quote that heard somewhere about masculinity being about protecting femininity, not rejecting it??? That one!!!

Kids call him dad all the time, and even though yall aren't even together, you become the parents of the school. Scott and Jean?? Love them, but they don't have that same kind of parent energy.

It's such a regular thing for kids to find the two of you interacting one way or another. Someone woke up way too early and enters the kitchen to find yall during your coffee, and there's a sweet moment with yall telling them to go back to bed, or offering to make them a quick breakfast. Maybe if they're really young Piotr will offer to tuck them in. He might be really blunt when telling them there are no monsters, but will be a little more gentle when you set a hand on his arm and give him a bit of a look.

The kiddo asks for both of you to tuck them in and you obviously aren't going to refuse them. Which leads to everyone wanting both of you to tuck them in and soon enough you two are doing curfew checks instead of the professor.

It's becomes so regular for the students to treat you two as their parents, and no one actually believes it when they find out that no, you're not a couple. So, they do what kids do and try to get you two together.

First it starts with making sure you two are sat together during everything they can get away with. Then it moves on to things like mistletoe (out of season, Piotr mistook it as an accidental bloom made by one of the agrokinesis kids and took it down) and then more mischievous plans like telling one of you that the other needed help with one thing or another, knowing that either one of you would help out at the drop of a hat. Sureee, they were lying, but you two didn't know that. (most of the time)

The kids just want to see their parents happy and in love. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's not like You and Piotr hadn't been helplessly pining for the other the entire time anyway.

You sigh deeply once you finally sneak out of the dorm room, Piotr right behind you. The tall man takes extra care to shut the door very gently, making sure it clicks in place just as silently.

"I thought we were never going to get her to sleep." You whisper to him. One of the youngest girls attending the school had a rather difficult time with night terrors, and would struggle to fall asleep without being tucked in. When you and Piotr were doing curfew checks tonight, she was the only kiddo still awake, and she had practically begged both of you to stay with her untill she finally did fall asleep. It couldn't be just one of you, It had to be both. No matter how many rooms you both had to check tonight, you would never have left her shaken up in such a state. You just hadn't expected it to take an hour.

"Illyana had similar dreams as a little one. It takes time for children to overcome it." Piotr whispers back as you begin to walk down the hallway to check the rest of the rooms. Even when he whispers, his voice is strong and hard to keep quiet. You know there's truth to what he says, and yet you can't help but wish you could do something more to help her with her nightmares. You rub some warmth into your arms anxiously as you think about it, surprised when you feel the warm weight of Piotr's hand settle in between your shoulder blades.

"You're worrying again." He states, frowning slightly when you look up at him. You send him a resigned smile, before it quickly falls as you look away.

"I can't help it. I worry about all of them, her especially. They just... deserve so much more than their lot in life." You say. Piotr hums in response, his thumb brushing idly against your back.

"Their life like us, you mean? Mutants?" His question makes you wince.

"No. Yes? I don't know. I just... I just wish that we could give them more than... this." You say, waving your hands to motion about the mansion. "The school might very well be the only safe space they have their entire life. The world hasn't been kind to them, and I'm not sure it ever will be." Your words begin to quiet down as you finish the sentence, lowing to a whisper that only he can hear. You'd never, ever want any of these kids hear a word of what you're saying. Knowing that hope is really all they have at their age, and you of all people refuse to be the one to destroy that beautiful childlike optimism.

"That is what we are working for as the X-men, yes? To change that?" Piotr asks you point blank, his hand moving up towards the back of your neck in a soothing manner that still gives you goosebumps, feeling the comforting heat of his hand even stronger than before.

"Yeah, but..."

"Then we are doing all we can." He finishes, a smile on his face that's so determined and confident that it very nearly changes your mind completely. Nonetheless, it's a reassuring smile that makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy. You smile back at him finally, and you swear you see fondness in his eyes.

It doesn't take long before the two of you are finally at your door. You give Piotr a short and sweet goodnight as you begin to step inside, but he stops you before you go, gently catching hold of your arm. For the first time, you think you've seen him debate on his words. His mouth opens, but he doesn't speak at first, and you swear you see a blush rising to his cheeks as he does so.

"You'd make a good mother." He says eventually, and it makes you smile widely.

"You'd make a good dad." You tell him. There's silence between you as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face in a fond and caring manner, and you swear you could trick yourself into believing that you and Piotr were already in domestic bliss if this moment goes on for any longer. The tall man leans in, and you find your mind short circuiting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. The simple action somehow leaving you beyond flustered.

"Sleep well, Любовь моя. I will see you in the morning." Piotr tells you, before walking off at his regular stiff pace. You stand in your doorway for a minute, watching him leave with a bit of a confused smile on your face. Out of all the Russian nicknames he's called you in the past, you had never heard him say that one before. You wonder if you should pick up a book on the language as you close your door and finally crawl into bed, although part of you is content to leave it be. Colossus had always been blunt, and you're sure he'd tell you eventually. You fall asleep just as you always do, excited to see him when you wake up in the morning.

[webslingingslasher]

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/721605644038389760/pregnancy-scare-with-fratpeter-what-would-he-do?source=share

Is there ever a pregnancy scare after they're in the girlfriend phase?

*cleaning out my drafts. mentions of pregnancy and a slight suggestion of abortion.*

you groan at the gentle shake you're receiving and you shrug it off while half awake. you're unbelievably tired and the small window of rest you got wasn't enough.

'trouble? c'mon, get up.' peter's hand comes down rough on your backside, you whine and roll over. 'but i'm sleepy-eepy.' the warmth of peter's bed is ripped away from you, he's holding the blanket in his hands.

'now i'm cold.' and while it's not peter's fault and he's only doing what you asked, you feel a little frustrated at the knowledge of not being able to go back to sleep.

'if you get up now, i'll shower with you. ten, nine, eight, seven... that's my girl, super proud of you.'

you might've woken up grouchy, but peter set your mood right in the shower and now you keep giving his arm little kisses. 'my handsome man.' peter speaks into your hairline, 'it's just a white shirt, you heathen.'

you softly dig your teeth into the thick of his bicep while his aunt has her back turned mixing up a side salad. you pull back without a trace and talk into his skin. 'and my man looks so yummy in it.'

'see? that nap energized you more than you thought.'

'that or your precious mouth and nice way you use it on me.' peter gives you a charming smile. 'you're on a roll tonight, trouble.' you wrap your arms around his and give a final mark, it's time to be a smidge respectful in his childhood home.

peter breaks away to refill your wine glass and top may's off. you thank him with a small kiss, may thanks him by asking him to grab rolls from the oven.

---

there's a positive pregnancy test in your shaking hands. each time you blink it becomes more and more clear, you clutch your stomach as if you already had a month nine belly.

'fuck.'

what are you supposed to do?

tears fall fast, they hit your palms and positive test before you look around the bathroom. why are you alone? where's peter? you think of your boyfriend, you think of how royally fucked this makes things.

call it selfish but you wanted peter all to yourself for a few years and now you're jumping forward a hundred steps. 'fuck.' this isn't fair to either of you, you don't have it figured out yet.

you stare at the test one more time, you need to be sure. you close your eyes and count to ten, no matter how many times you try, the answer doesn't change.

'holy fucking shit, i'm-'

about to piss your pants. you fly up from the bed lightning fast, hightailing it to peter's bathroom before holding your head in your hands. you're drowsy and reminding yourself it was just a dream, but it felt so real.

but, no, just a dream. it's a dream because you're not pregnant. you just had your period... you just had it... it's only been... your stomach drops, why can't you remember? in four seconds you are wide, wide awake and you're going for your phone on peter's nightstand.

it's three in the morning and you haven't had a period in at least five weeks.

'peter, get up.' you're not soft spoken or gentle, you're full of terror and he's about to be too. you push at his arm roughly, it stirs him just enough you could break through the sleep.

'peter, get up right now.' a slow whine, you're not playing and his stubbornness is about to have you wake up the entire apartment complex. 'get the fuck up, peter.'

you're mean but it's the only thing stopping you from going full blown psycho and curling into a screaming, crying ball on his floor.

'peter,' you rush out his name one more time, this time he responds.

'what’s go-‘

'i think i'm pregnant and i'm about to freak the fuck out and i really, really need you to keep me from doing that right now.' it hits all at once, you try to breathe but you can't. it's peter's turn to fly up from the bed, he only goes as far as he needs to wrap you in a tight hug.

'trouble,' the name makes you sob, you really are trouble. 'shh, you're okay, we're okay.' it's not fair of peter to hold you calmly as if he's not scared shitless himself. 'we're so fucked, peter. i ruined everything.'

your mind is spinning and your boyfriend is keeping you grounded. 'nothing is ruined, nothing is fucked. we're okay, i promise we're okay.' no, peter's not thinking how you are. he doesn't understand what you just did to you both.

'i did, i really, really did. we just graduated, we don't live together, you're still waiting for that research position to open and my boyfriend slash baby daddy is going to die because he's also spider-man.'

it's all ruined. you don't even know what you ruined and that's the worse part, you ended it before it started.

'hey, trouble. one thing at a time, okay? we have time to figure it out if we need to. do we need to go get a test?' you nod, the idea of your dream turning into reality makes you want to sob.

'speaking of dying, i killed the last three plants ethan gave me. so, how nice is that? a dead dad and a mom who kills.' peter hugs you tighter, he wants to push all your suffering into him right now. you go one further, this is the final nail in the coffin.

'what if i'm not ready to be a mom?'

'we have time to figure-' he doesn't understand. 'no, what if i'm not ready to be a mom?' a soft kiss on your forehead tells you he read between the lines, it also tells you he doesn't resent you for the idea.

'i'm here for you, okay? i'm here for whatever decision you make and we'll figure it out together. we're a team. and i promise you, trouble, i'm not dying. kid or no kid, i won't let spider-man be the thing that does me in.'

you want this with peter, you really do. just... not now. a baby this young was never in the cards, you feel like you shouldn't be in this position but you played stupid games and won an unexpected prize.

'fuck. peter, i really think i might be pregnant.'

peter's being a strong front because you need it but he's just as unprepared as you are. 'have you been feeling sick?' you shake your head, you've felt normal until this very moment.

'i had i dream i was staring at a positive test and it felt so real that it woke me up and then i couldn't remember the last time i had my period so i looked at my phone and we're charting into week five.'

peter almost lets a curse slip, he contains it for you. 'okay, we're okay. i promise we're okay, we just need to make sure if you're pregnant or not. can you wait until morning or do we need to go now?'

peter using 'you' and 'pregnant' in the same sentence makes you want to throw up and you can't blame it on potential morning sickness. you're disgusted in yourself. this wasn't the timeline.

you couldn't last another few hours in this state, you'd go mad in record timing. 'now. right now.' in under a minute peter is stuffing a hoodie over your head and a shirt over his. you feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown but peter's outstretched hand tells you he's here for it.

---

'what if you resent me in like...' peter's already shaking his head, you can't put a date on it, what if it's now? 'wait, is it already happening? do you hate me?'

peter stops with you outside of the bodega right up the road from his apartment, he had been listening to your spiral the entire time with a calm demeanor.

'stop. i know this wasn't the plan and i know this isn't what we wanted right now but i don't want you thinking i could ever hate you or blame you for this. i wish i could make you feel better about this, trouble. i love you, i love you more than i have ever loved anything. i love you more than i thought was possible. i love you more than any song or book or movie could ever describe. and guess what? i'd love our kid just the same. shit, maybe even more cause you gave me one.'

is it hormones or is it because that's the best thing he could've ever told you at this moment? you crush him in a hug, he's a little surprised but holds you just the same. 'thank you.' for the first time since you woke up, you're able to breathe.

peter doesn't say you're welcome because you don't have anything to thank him for. he's doing what he'd do if this was however many years in the future and when it was a bit more planned. 'i didn't bring my wallet.'

peter scoffs, 'you think i'd make you pay for this?'

'i already feel like a burden.'

'trouble.' you bite your tongue, if peter can be nice enough to hold a poker face, you can stop telling yourself he secretly hates you. you need an answer and it lies inside the shop in a little box.

peter's holding the test, you couldn't bring yourself to touch it. you're standing in front of the refrigerator section staring at the drink selection, more than half focused on your reflection instead. peter catches on and taps your hand, you blink awake and look at three different cans before your brain hurts.

'what should i get?'

'whatever you want, trouble.'

'i can't think.' you can't. it's either total silence and dissociation or racing thoughts, you don't know peace anymore. if you're carrying his child, peter can pick a drink for you.

'hm. are you in the mood for something flavored?'

sweet. sugary. something to coat your mouth with a lasting aftertaste even if the news you were about to receive was on the bitter side.

'yeah.' peter nixes the three shelfs of water. 'carbonated or not?' too much of a choice, you shrug half-heartedly. 'i don't know.' peter looks behind him, a different choice entirely.

when's the last time you had an icee?

you don't notice peter walk off, you slipped back into staring at yourself in a baggy hoodie. if you jumped forward six months, how tight would it be?

peter grabs a small cup, looks at the clear-blue box in his hand and grabs a large one instead. a mixture of cherry and coke, it's nearly freezing his hand. it's going to be enough to keep your mind in the land of the living.

you find peter, lean against his back and close your eyes, he makes small movements and allows you to rest your weight on him. you're tired. mentally and emotionally. 'trouble?' you perk up again, peter halfway turns to hand over a frozen drink big enough for four.

'a slushie?' you give it a taste, you sip it down until your throat burns. 'heck yeah. and look at that, you love it.' he's not wrong. you can't remember the last time you had one and this somehow just made things a little better.

'it's making me feel better.'

'see? everyone needs some sugar now and then.'

---

for someone who made peter get out of bed at three in the morning and force him down to the corner store for a pregnancy test, you sure can't stomach the idea of taking it.

if it's a no, it'll be the biggest breath of fresh air you've ever had. if it's a yes, you and peter's life is about to forever change and you don't think you're ready for that yet.

you might not get peter to yourself for a few years, but you have him tonight and that's comfort enough. 'ready?' you intertwine your fingers with peter as he asks and pulls you out the front door. it's a quiet walk back sharing your cup of sugar before you silently creep back inside his aunt's apartment.

'ready to pee?'

you shake your head, peter offers his laptop up. ten minutes into a show, you have to go. fifteen minutes, it's pressing. twenty and you're about to burst.

you're not ready for the answer.

you'd be a bad mom.

'i drank wine tonight, peter. that's so bad, i'm such a bad person.'

'you're not a bad person, trouble. guess what? no one knows they're pregnant until they know. it's not your fault you kept living life how you normally do.'

you might've fucked things up but you chose the best person to do it with.

'i have to pee.' for just a teeny, tiny second- peter's guard faults. he's just as scared of the results, it fills you with solace. you're not the only one here who doesn't want this, even if he won't tell you so.

'want me to come with?'

you shake your head and don't even look at the box when you swipe it from his desk. your hand shakes as you tear the blue plastic, it's dawned on you that this is the first time you've ever taken one. you never thought you’d be here.

you hold your eyes closed while you do it as if the results would show immediately. you snap the cap back into place and hide it behind you. starting a five minute timer, you wait on the answer to the future.

poking your head out from his bathroom you clear your throat. 'counting down.'

'how are you feeling? still doing okay?' you nod, you're really thankful he has your back tonight. it's nice to know that when you're truly falling apart, he's your backbone.

'i love you.'

'i love you too, sweetheart.'

you've been so good and so brave this whole time, you haven't cried once. but that just broke you and you can't place why. you try to will away the sting in your eyes, it doesn't work.

a broken whimper and you can't hold it in anymore.

you fall apart and before you could collapse to the floor, peter's tucking you into his chest and kissing your head. 'shh, you're okay. i promise you're okay, you have me. you'll always have me.'

'promise?'

'i promise, trouble. don't you remember? i couldn't let you go if i tried.'

'i know you said to stop but i'm really sorry and i need you to know that.' peter feels his heart break, he must've done something wrong at some point to make you think he could ever be upset at you for this.

but peter thinks you need him to accept it. 'it's okay. i know you're sorry and it's okay.' you relax and exhale into him, you stop your tears because crying is useless and it's only making you feel worse.

'i'm being so annoying, aren't i?'

'not in the slightest, do you see how long it took you to cry?'

you sniff and wipe away any stray tears before giving peter a pathetic pucker. 'kiss, please.' you're granted the slow and soft kind, the one that is just pure care and adoration.

'will you promise to keep having sex with me if i'm pregnant?'

peter can't hold in his laugh, you hear yourself and giggle with him. 'i promise, trouble. you can get it anytime. i mean, you already do, but with my baby in you- you'll get absolutely anything you want, whenever you want.'

'even if i want cheetos at two in the morning?' peter thinks that's light work, he graces your cheek with a kiss of the same kind. 'especially then.' it's not always rainbows and butterflies. 'what about when my belly pops, my hormones hit the ceiling, my feet are swollen, i'm hot all the time, and i just constantly scream at you?'

'you wouldn't do that.' well, you're not planning on it but you have no idea what effects this will have on you. 'but if you did, i'd take it in stride. if i was carrying around twenty pounds that made me constantly want to piss my pants, i'd be grumpy too.'

'we're gonna be so tired.'

'we already are.'

you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. 'what if i get stretch marks?'

'from growing my kid? couldn't think of anything sexier, trouble.'

it's not what was planned, but if this is how it'll be, you'll be okay. peter was right, you would figure it out. together.

'you have an answer for everything.'

'that's why you love me so much. you needed to find someone who could keep up with you.'

'and oh boy can you keep up and catch me.'

you match his smile, you feel good. you feel like things aren't so ruined now. 'it's my favorite thing to do.' you scrunch your nose up at him before giving a small jump to your alarm tone.

you end the timer. 'oh god.' that.

'don't undo what we just did. no more panic, we're okay with this, right? if it's a yes, we're doing this?'

it's terrifying to think you could be a parent in under a year but something tells you that you'll be just fine with peter by your side. 'yeah, we're doing this.'

peter nods towards his bathroom door, 'ready?'

for the first time tonight, you feel confident. 'yes.' you back up for the results, wrapping your palm around the middle until you're next to peter again.

you both take a deep breath and you finally get to see the answer.

peter exhales out, 'holy shit.'

your shoulders slump when you mutter out, 'thank god.'

'holy fuck, i thought my stomach was about to come out of my ass for a second. don't get me wrong if it was-'

'i was right there with you, petey. we could've figured it out but thank god we don't have to.' you hold a hand over your heart and feel calm wash over you. 'are we bad people for being happy about this?'

peter shakes his head. 'no, not at all. we're not ready for that yet, but now we know we could be.'

you think you're speaking for the both of you and you think it needs to be said. 'to be clear, we do want kids, just later down the road. and this was just a little scare but now that we know we don't want any right now, we should be a little more careful about how we do things, right?'

'a hundred percent, trouble. you said it before i could.'

'good.' you take another peek at the test, double confirmation. 'now can you please feed me? i'm famished.'

even if you weren't pregnant, peter would do anything for you.

'anything my baby wants, she gets.'

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (pt. 1)

part two: here

Synopsis: Having been several years since you’d last seen your favorite gangster family, you return to Small Heath a changed woman with a stronger attitude than you had when you left. 

information: this will be a multi part story! idk how many parts exactly, but there will be more!

warnings: none for this chapter!

please leave all comments and reccommendations below! thank you for reading!

“Aye, what does a woman have to do to get a whiskey around here?”, you shouted, rapping your hand on the bar counter. 

You were seated at The Garrison, it was your first stop back in town. You had lived in Small Heath most of your early life, but five years ago you were forced to leave due to your fathers death and your mothers general distrust (and dislike) of the Shelby family. Your mother had kicked you out a few days ago, claiming that you were old enough to be married now, and that she wouldn’t stand for you staying in her house if you weren’t going to look for a husband. 

“Calm down Lady, I’ll- Holy Shit! Y/N, what are you doin’ back!”, a man's voice rang out, making you and the rest of the bar look in his direction. 

Arthur Shelby had always been one of your favorite Shelby siblings, and for good reason. He was loud, funny, and typically a gentleman if you caught him on the right day. You leaned over the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly bruising him in the process. You had hoped your whole journey here that he would be the first Shelby you saw, and luck had worked out for you this time. 

“Arth, I am sure glad to see you! It’s been a long time, aye?”, you spoke, removing your arms from him and sitting back on your barstool. 

“Hell, it’s been about, what, five years? You don’t show your face around these parts for five fuckin’ years and then you just come back?”, he said, staring you in the face, with a somewhat more serious look in his eye than you had expected. 

‘Yeah, had some family troubles, but I’m back for good now,” you swallowed, “how's all the Shelby’s doin’?” 

“Eh, the usual. Tommys about to run himself ragged, Pol acts like she owns us all, I’m workin’ here now, I actually own the place!” he said, spilling out most of that information in one breath. 

You took a quick survey of the bar, noticing how the decor and table setup had changed since you’d seen it last. The floor was still the same sticky, slimy feeling though. 

“Glad to see you doing well, Arth. Now, please get me a whiskey an i’ll be outta your way!” you spoke, glad to have reunited with Arthur, but not glad to have been out in public this long. 

“Ah, ah. If you think I’m letting you get out of here without seein’ Tom, you’re messed in the head!” He joked, but as you watched him move towards the window to the private room, you realized he wasn’t joking. 

You had not come prepared to see Thomas. He was the only one who never got a goodbye, even though the rest of them didn’t know they were goodbyes at the time. When you were being forced to leave, you managed to sneak over to Watery Lane and have one last conversation with all the Shelbys before you left, and you never told them you were leaving that night. Thomas had been on business, but got home a few minutes after you left. You had regretted not speaking to him then, but now that regret had turned into a fear after hearing about the man he had become while you were away. You had heard things about Thomas Shelby, and they were not things any girl would like to hear about her long-time crush.

‘Oy, that Tommy Shelby is a real whore’

‘I heard he gets around Small Heath like its a full time job’

‘He pays them ya know? Every girl he fucks gets paid, even if theyre not workin’ for it!’

Those were all just some of the things you had heard, and those weren’t even the things you had heard that were related to his newfound habit of murdering those who crossed him. You’ve had your eyes on Tommy Shelby ever since you were 16. Now aged 21, it had been a long enough time that you realized what kind of person you needed to settle with, and logically, he wasn’t it. 

While this entire catalog of thoughts was running through your head, your eyes watched as Arthur got closer and closer to that window. You knew you weren’t ready to see him yet, if you ever would be. So acting on those primal prey instincts, you ran. You hopped off the barstool, and started pushing your way through the crowd of bar patrons, finally having the door insight. You wrapped your hand around the handle, and pulled it open. Stepping into the cool air of the night, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you closed the bar door behind you. Just as you were stepping away from the door to begin your walk to the apartment you were renting, you bumped into something, or rather, someone. 

“Thought I’d let you run from me a second time, aye?”

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“I-I-”, you stammered, not having any idea what to say, now that you were staring at the face of one Thomas Shelby. 

“It’s okay, I’d be nervous too if I ran into someone I left in the dust five years ago.”, he laughed, letting a puff of cigarette smoke roll out of his mouth. 

“Tommy, how did you even know I was out here? I watched Arthur and left before he even opened the window, I don’t underst-”

“Shh. I have my ways, ya know I have my ways.” he spoke, that cool, gravelly voice still hadn’t changed, even after all this time. 

You finally looked up at him, releasing the death stare you had on his chest. He was more handsome now, if that was even possible. His dark hair styled perfectly, like he had touched it up before meeting you outside. His hat was missing, which was a rare occurrence, but you were enjoying the unobstructed view of his face. He was lean, only muscle was visible through his white shirt, and his pants hugged his legs perfectly. He was beautiful, especially in the face. You could see more defined freckles in the glow of the street lamp, along with more defined lines carved into his forehead. You continued to study his face, while his studied yours. You had definitely matured in your time away, but not only on your face. Your lips had gotten fuller, cheek bones more pronounced, and hair longer; but you had also grown tits and an ass. You knew you had assets, and fully planned on using them to your advantage, just not on Tommy Shelby. 

“My God, Y/N, I’d say you grew up…”, he trailed off, eyes looking all over your face and body. 

“Yeah, that tends to happen to people as they age, Tom.” you laughed, feeling suddenly insecure as you stood under his microscope. 

“What are ya doin’ back in town? I imagined you ran off and got married or somethin’,” he spoke, “But, I don’t see a ring on that finger so either that can’t be right or you married a poor bastard.” 

“Not married Tom, never was. It’s part of the reason I’m back in town, but-” 

“What are ya doin’ tomorrow evening?”, he cut off, not even letting you finish explaining how you didn’t want to talk about it right now. 

“Nothing I know about, why?”, you asked, having no idea what was about to come out of that pretty mouth of his. 

“Join me for dinner, yeah? I’d love to sit down and have a chat with ya, but I got to go handle some business right now.”, he spoke, suddenly sounding strained. 

“Uh, I guess I’ll get dinner with ya, where at?” 

“My place, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow at 6, Goodnight, Y/N.” Tom spoke, brushing shoulders with you lightly as he passed by, heading back into The Garrison.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 66

part 1 | part 65 | ao3

cw: i don’t do drugs, dad, it’s only marijuana

“Uh,” Steve splutters, choking on his own spit. “Is that wise?”

It’s a question Eddie gives zero fucks about, apparently, because he’s already lighting a joint — cherry bright, shadows sharp, chin held aloft as he hollows his cheeks. “Extremely,” he croaks, blowing smoke out in a thick ring.

Steve’s mouth flattens to a frown. “Literally how?” he begs to know. “I thought we were supposed to be, like, fortifying our defenses. Building our mind shields or whatever the fuck.”

“Au contraire, mon frère.” Eddie takes a hit and holds it. “We are fighting a psychic wizard. Therefore…” Another toke, another trail of perfect smoke rings, ducklings lined up big to small. “It stands to reason that we should trash his battlefield.”

It stands to reason we should what?

“…Ohhhhhh,” Steve nods when he gets it. He reaches up to take the joint, tipping his chin in thanks when Eddie slots it into the V of his fingers, and squints as he sips in a quick puff; adds a French inhale at the end of a second huge hit. Eddie’s not the only one who knows how to do cool tricks. “So this is like the time we let a bunch of cows loose on Thompson’s field the night before the homecoming game.”

“Yeah, exactly— well- well, no, actually, not like that, what in the Indiana bumpkin fuck—? Never mind.” Eddie tosses his hair and rocks on his heels, and Steve can’t help but snort as he watches him shake himself clear like a little Eddie Etch-A-Sketch. “Important things only,” Eddie mumbles to himself. “Essentials,” he’s saying, “Essentials. What are essentials?”

And meanwhile Steve is saying: “Eddie-A-Sketch.”

Eddie hollers a startled cackle as he whips his head around, his face all squiggly with confusion, brows pinched, nostrils flared. “Steve, what the hell?”

Steve giggles uncontrollably. “Etch-A-Skeddie? No—”

“Holy shit.” He scrubs his hands down his face and laughs weakly at the ceiling. “How much weed did you just smoke?”

From anyone else it would sound like scolding, but Eddie just pulls out a few more joints, sticks three in his mouth at once, and mumbles good-naturedly, “Lemme catch up, I guess. Christ.”

While Eddie smokes enough weed to briefly hotbox a room with a hole in the floor, Steve watches the water ripple, spellbound by shimmering shapes in the dark for what feels like decades until he remembers all at once that it fucking sucks in here. It’s cold, and he’s starving, and his back is kinda stiff. “Hey…”

He looks over his shoulder, rolling into the stretch. Eddie’s doing some weird noodly shit in a corner, bent at the waist with his arms pretzeled overhead, swinging side to side, the ends of his hair sweeping the dusty, splintered planks. “Hey! Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“Weren’t we supposed to be finding supplies?”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie swings himself upright; starts pacing back and forth. “Shit, yeah. What did we need?”

“Besides food and water?”

“Booze!” He steps onto a pile of boxes just to hop back down again. “Booze, music, more drugs…”

More drugs. Great idea.

Steve plucks the stubby remnant of a joint up off the floor; Eddie spins around on tiptoe to peer out the boathouse window, and when he looks back at Steve he’s got a Cheshire cat grin. “Say, Steve-o. Stevie boy. Svennie—”

“I’ll kill you,” Steve coughs around a mouthful of smoke.

“Since I’m pretty sure we’re one hundred percent going to jail for, uh. All of this…” He waves his arms around at their whole situation, then gestures invitingly to the house at the top of the hill. “Whaddaya say we add breaking and entering to the list?”

—

part 67

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[chilling-seavey]

In The Middle (gr63 + pg10)

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

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

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

↳ Word Count: 31.5k

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

London, 1985

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Looking forward to it.”

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

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

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

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

Well, maybe no other man except for George.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” he said coolly. 

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

“Where were you?” he asked. 

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

George shrugged, “No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You teased quietly, “Morning, pumpkin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Emphasis on really.” you chuckled. 

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

“Best buds.” you added. 

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

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

“I might. Will you?”

“Yeah. After Silverstone.”

“Oh, right, that’s today.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who were you talking to?” she asked. 

“Myself.” he answered stiffly, “Bye.”

“Alright, alright. Hurry up, now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This sounds like blackmail.”

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It is.”

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

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

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

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

“If you’re good.”

“Aren’t I always?”

He chuckled lowly, “See you tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you dance?” you asked. 

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

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

“Not well.” he replied. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pierre laughed humorlessly, “You are unbelievable.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You played coy, “You think?”

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

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

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

“Russell.” you answered without thinking. 

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” you greeted coolly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pierre nodded and lifted his drink to sip from. 

“And you?” George asked. 

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

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

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

“Yeah.” Pierre answered, almost protectively. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To do what?” George pressed. 

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

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

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

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

You turned to George, “And you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is incredible.” you breathed. 

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

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

“Suck it harder.” he ordered. 

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

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

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

You could only reply with a muffled “mhm”. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

George chuckled knowingly, “Fucking soaked, probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” you exhaled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open.” he said lowly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? Wanna cum on his mouth?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Switch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“George...” you whimpered up at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tastes good, huh?” Pierre chuckled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah- Fuck, Pierre!” you blurted out. 

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

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

“Good girl.” he praised richly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.” George praised. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “so badly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” you squeaked out. 

“Can you take more?”

“Gimme it all.” you answered easily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck.” you giggled. 

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

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

“Pierre.” you scolded lightheartedly. 

“What? You look incredible.” he protested. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feeling okay?” he asked. 

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

“Sore?” Pierre asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything for my best pal.” he winked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“You’ll get it. No doubt in my mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh for fucks sake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” you laughed lightly, “Cocky.”

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

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

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

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

You nodded. 

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” he cooed, “what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feeling better?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You offered out your mug, “Coffee?”

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” 

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

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

Formula 1: Russell bandages Silverstone DNF with menage et toi

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

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

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

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

“This is bad, Georgie.” you insisted. 

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

“It’s not fair on you.” you pressed.

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

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

They both looked at you for your response next. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[cottondo]

vox x reader ; please?

Nobody really understood how it happened— it just did one day.

You ended up really hitting it off with the man of Voxtech himself; and wow lookathat, you’re dating him now.

It wasn’t unusual to be waking up in his bed, either. But what something Vox wasn’t used to, was a sunshine personality like yours. Of course you have your devilish charms still, as thats what drew him into you to begin with. But, the small appreciations you had for just about everything? It was weird, right? For a sinner in hell, it was marked as a rare occurrence to see someone like you.

( Other than the Princess of Hell, though she was much more over the top than you were. )

As your eyes opened, surroundings gaining a much clearer focus, you let out a tired little sigh.

There’s a soft buzzing beside you, where Vox was passed out in a deep sleep. It was such a nice state to see him in. Calm, not stressed out and dealing with everyone’s chaotic bullshit.

Honestly, it was nice being awake before everyone else. You could just take in the small beauties of silence before everything got obnoxious.

Your eyes flicker over to the windows, and see a bright neon sign with arrows pointing downward towards its front door.

A brand new building had just opened up, and it was a place you’ve been waiting to check out for a while now. Honestly, you couldn’t contain the excitement. It seemed like it took forever to finish, as most demons tried to overrun it while it was still in a vulnerable state.

With a little gasp, your hand falls to vox’s shoulder, and shake it lightly. “Oh my god, Vox, wake up!”

A static noise enters the air, as a small groan of annoyance leaves the tv screen. “What—”

You smirk, leaning over his shoulder to view his annoyance. “It’s finally open~ we gotta go!”

He heaves out a heavy sigh, turning to lay on his back with a dull, tired expression. “Y/N,”

“Please?” The little pout you made usually got him to do what you wanted, but this time it didn’t. He looked tired and visibly annoyed. Honestly, fair. You did kinda just wake him up in one of the worst ways possible.

“Can you at least let me wake up a little, first?” His lopsided smile made your heart flutter. Fuck, he was just so cute no matter what.

“Okay, fine. Just don’t fall back to sleep.” You fully sit up, crawling over his figure, and hoping to avoid stepping on any part of him in the process of getting off the bed. Standing to your feet on the floor, he **almost** chuckles. “What the hell even is the place you wanna go to, anyway?” His one eye widens out of curiosity over at you.

You roll your eyes, annoyed that he never usually remembered the little things. “The first like, ever, plant shop in hell. Somebody actually got things to grow down here,” you inform, taking a step in front of the mirror. “I think they used, like, human world magic or something.”

Vox sat up, stretching his neck and letting out a little groan. “Since when can anybody just get access to earth?”

You deadpan him briefly, “Does it even matter? I need one.”

He shakes his head, sitting up.

“I don’t know how you can be this happy so early in the morning.” He smiled at you. Holy shit, he actually smiled at how stupid your little obsession with this place was.

“Did— did you just smile~?” You decide to point it out, a smirk curling up to your features.

His eyes widened, body slightly startled at your reaction to him. “What?”

You inch closer to him, a brighter look of excitement as he stares at you in curiosity. “Oh my god you did! I saw you, so there’s no denying it.”

Vox takes on the tv effect to his tone as he looks up at you. “Alright, alright.” He then stands, and you notice how he slightly towers over your idling frame. “Only you can convince me to do shit I normally wouldn’t do.” His screen looks away with an almost embarrassment to it.

Your arms gently slip around his waist, causing him to tense up, arms raising.

“Thank you.” You smirk up at him. It didn’t take much to get him wrapped around your finger.

Vox sighs, lowering his arms, and slinking a hand around your waist. He gently guides you forward into his figure. His little smile comes back, and for a moment, you can actually feel him soften his outer shell with you. “Anything for you, my dear.”

______________________________________

I’m so sorry my writing hasn’t been up to par lately lmao 🥲 Not loving this one rn

[phntmeii]

Slashers and Hanahaki Disease

[SFW + No Gendered Terms]

Hanahaki Disease: A fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies.

Characters: Poly!Ghostface(Billy Loomis, Stu Macher), PreMichael!Corey Cunningham, Hannibal Lecter(TV Ver.), Jason Voorhees, RZ!Michael Myers

General Warnings: Mainly fluffy w/ happy endings, Mentions of death, Mentions of vomiting/gagging

A/N: Half the listed characters will have Hanahaki disease while the other half the reader has Hanahaki disease. Some other notes, I sped up how quickly Hanahaki affects people to a few weeks at max and included what type of flower I think would best fit in these situations :) Most are related to heartbreak, loss, death/rebirth, unrequited love.

Poly!Ghostface - Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

Flower Type: Purple Hyacinth

You had taken some days off of class, feeling too sick to go. Your parents didn’t believe you but you looked the definition of ill.

And heartbreak was just the cherry on top for you. Whether you had feelings for Billy or for Stu was already confusing but on top of that, you felt like you weren’t either of their types.

You had seen the people they went out with over the years and you were just never like them. Your own love life was failure after failure but it's not like they were offering themselves up in their place.

You were just the bestfriend in your mind. That’s all. And soon enough, violet petals were being thrown up into the toilet bowl every few hours and you could feel your lungs filling, getting hard to breathe over time.

Both Billy and Stu thought it was weird you skipped class. You’d at least give a heads up beforehand. Billy was more worried than Stu was.

He visited through your window at night to check in on you just to catch you in a pile of violet flowers across your bed covers while you laid there, casually watching a movie while you occasionally coughed some more up.

“What the fuck is that? Are you okay? Me and Stu thought you up and died.”

Looking over, you gave a weak smile in response. “Feels like I am.”

Soon you heard some clanging from the window Billy came in from and found Stu stumbling in, nearly knocking some things down before he hopped back up.

Stu gave a goofy smile as he held up some bottles before Billy looked at him with unamused eyes and snatched the bottles out of his hands as if to say, “Not now.”

Sitting down with you, asking what was wrong. You tried to explain but it sounded so silly. Throwing up flowers? And for seemingly no reason.

“Well… There’s diseases that are caused by stress? You think it’s something like that? Come on. You’ve been acting like shit for the past few weeks.”

You sat there between them and could think of one main thing but… How stupid that sounded. You didn’t want to say it.

Stu shook your shoulders playfully before getting smacked in the back of the head by Billy. “Come on! Tell us! What’s so embarrassing~?”

You sighed and reluctantly explained. You had a crush on them—your bestfriends—and you were definitely not their type. You were completely embarrassed, covering your mouth as you coughed up a few more violet petals.

Billy and Stu stared at each other after you said that, as if silently communicating to one another. Billy slowly smirked while Stu started laughing and wrapped his arms around you from the side.

“Seriously?! Holy shit, dude! You seriously haven’t noticed we were totally into you too?!”

You couldn’t even process what Stu said with how tight he squeezed you with his hug. By the time you finally noticed, you were once again distracted when you felt two different hands holding your jaw as Billy leaned in from one side while Stu leaned in the other and kissed your cheeks.

“ We’ve been into you forever…” Those small words felt like they made room within your lungs again.

PreMichael!Corey Cunningham

Flower Type: Red Salvia

Corey had met you in passing and you didn’t mind becoming friends with him. He was an awkward nerd and it was a trait you found charming to be friends with.

But to Corey, it was hell when he discovered the petals that soon formed and flew out of his mouth.

He had developed a crush on you immediately when he met you. You were simultaneously his heaven and hell. Someone so nice to him and yet the reason he found it harder and harder to breathe.

He avoided you for a week or so. He was so used to self-isolating himself when something went wrong. Deal with it himself as he always did.

Corey figured it was connected to you. It started the day after he felt those feelings rise in him. To make sure, he visited the doctor’s and found the term: Hanahaki Disease. And it was because of you.

He didn’t want to say anything about it. His fate was sealed in his eyes. But… maybe?

He decided to send a text to meet up. Better to talk about it in person even if it made him nervous to.

“Hey… I- I really didn’t want to y’know bother you or anything-“ “Corey, you don’t bother me. It’s alright. What is it?”

Corey shyly looked down and smiled to himself. God, it hurt to think that you wouldn’t like him. You were so perfect for him.

“I know this is gonna sound weird and if I'm honest I thought it was weird too. I-I’m… dying. From uh… Not having requited love...” As if on queue, he coughed, revealing red petals flying out of his mouth to the ground.

You were obviously immediately worried. To hear such heavy words from Corey made your heart drop. You had to ask who. Maybe he could still convince them to share the same feelings.

Corey scratched the back of his head, looking away. He didn’t want to say it. Especially since he didn’t want to leave you with the news that it was because of you that he had an expiration date coming soon.

“It’s… you. It’s always been you.”

A few whole Red Salvia flowers came out of his mouth after the confession. He grew increasingly embarrassed, wanting to take back his words already. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Just let his life take its course and end quick without you knowing.

But then, those moments of silence were interrupted by you approaching and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. His lips were slightly chapped from nerves and his overthinking made him think he should’ve done something about them sooner but he was more focused on how soft you felt. His heart swelled at the touch while his hands went to your cheeks, deepening the kiss further out of pure need.

Hannibal Lecter

Flower Type: Red Spider Lily

Hannibal was not one to ever be sick. It rarely happened, if ever. He took care of his health perfectly.

When he started to feel himself grow ill, he immediately knew something was wrong. Coughing was one thing but it was a completely different thing to find himself feeling the urge to vomit and finding flowers fly out of his mouth.

Staring at the red flowers in the toilet bowl, he already knew it wasn’t something normal. In fact, he already knew what it was.

The knowledgeable man he was, Hanahaki was a term that came to mind but with a sense of confusion.

He didn’t necessarily care for people like others did. His “care” for other people was a mask of feigned empathy. Not real.

But if he had this disease, something was different. And it was love of all things? It complicated everything.

There was only one person that came to mind that could possibly fit the supposed feeling he felt: You. His patient.

He kept it hidden still. Suffering in silence because falling in love was not something he was interested in. It would cloud his emotions.

And yet, he began asking about your love life during your sessions. Previous relationships, expectations of love, etc. A collection of information to mold himself into what you wanted.

He invited you over for dinners more and presented you with flowers each session. Each bouquet with meaning and cleanly composed together.

You were his muse. The focus of his musical compositions and the focus of his sketches when he had free time.

His eyes even sparkled softly toward you sometimes if you looked close enough.

But Hannibal knew his days were numbered and he had to say something before the flowers filled his lungs and killed him.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it. His vomiting became more frequent and he could feel how difficult it was to breathe.

After one of your dinners with him and he was walking you to the door, he stopped you. Taking your chin between his fingers, he gently tilted your face to look at him.

“My dear… Please indulge me in my desire for you. It’s grown insatiable.”

He started to lean in toward your lips. He’d memorized the shape a thousand times over through his sketches by now. Each quick line put to paper was a written wish to feel them on his own. “I’ll grow mad without knowing what you taste like.”

His eyes met yours when he was centimeters away from your lips, breath mixing into one another’s. “Tell me you wish the same.”

His eyes looked to you with a slight desperation to them. Once he received the confirmation, that soft whisper of a “Yes…”, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and felt like life had been breathed into him.

Jason Voorhees

Flower Type: Lily of the Valley

Jason hadn't thought about romance much in his life, not thinking he'd be fortunate to experience it. He thought he had a face only his mother could love after all.

Finding you, you were never mean to him. If anything, you were solely kind to him and he was happy at the treatment.

Then worry set in when he noticed you weren't coming to the cabin as often. You usually visited and left some meals for him and candles to dedicate to his mother.

He worried heavily. Jason automatically believed he was in the wrong. Maybe he had scared you or had done something wrong. He was never good at social cues or interacting with people.

He sat there, waiting for you to come back. You wouldn't completely leave right? Or maybe something happened to you? What if you were dead?

Jason could only find his worries settled when he heard footsteps and saw you again. He immediately rushed out and hugged you.

He signed, "Where have you been?? I was so worried!"

Jason noticed you seemed paler than normal and you looked exhausted. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"

He didn't know how to take care of someone who was sick. His mother always took care of him. But he was willing to try.

"I... Yeah. I'm sick, Jason. I've been sick for a week or so now. Vomiting and all."

You couldn't see his expression but he was certainly concerned. He placed a hand on your shoulder. "I'll take care of you."

Whether you wanted to or not, Jason was already dragging you inside and sitting you down. He didn't know how to help, only that he wanted to help.

That's when you coughed and small white petals flew out of your mouth and into your lap. Jason tilted his head at that. Flowers? He had never heard of someone coughing up flowers before.

Jason forcibly kept you in the cabin until you could get better. You were his only friend. The only one who treated him like a person. He didn't want to lose that.

Few days pass and nothing. Petals had become full flowers with stems needing to be yanked out. You gagged each time you had to rip out the flower by its stem.

You thought you might die. A sickness you had never heard of along with it getting quickly worse? You couldn't help but recognize where this was going.

You laid beside Jason at night. He was attached to the hip with you in your stay. You figured now was a better time than never saying it at all.

You took his hand into yours, something that made Jason give you his full attention. "Jason. I just wanted you to know that... I love you. I need you to know that."

Jason could feel his heart jolt at that confession. It was said in a more sad tone than a happy one but all the same, it was the words said that mattered. "Do you mean it? Are you sure?"

Nodding your head with a weak smile, you placed a kiss on the cheek of his mask. Jason could feel his face heat up at that. No one had ever treated him like that before.

He grabbed your hands, maybe a bit too strong in his grasp, as he signed rapidly in excitement. "I love you too. You're the only one who likes me. I want you to stay. Please."

You felt slight pain in your lungs as the stems that had begun taking root in them slowly retracted and dissipated. He was your cure.

RZ!Michael Myers

Flower Type: White Rose

Michael had inhabited your home for some time. He needed a home base to return to when he wasn’t stalking for victims.

You couldn’t say much against it, fearing you’d be next. And he wasn’t the worst guest?

Besides blood needing to be cleaned, he was silent. You could barely even notice him there if it wasn’t for his giant size.

Over time, you noticed how he grew closer to you. Literally. He loomed over you while you cooked or cleaned. You’d get jumpscared by how you’d turn a corner and see him standing there. He also started preventing you from leaving if he was there.

Michael would stand in front of the door, staring you down until you understood to stay home. Seeing you listen, he gave the most affection he’d ever show: patting your head.

And you grew an odd attachment to him. You’d worry if he was out for too long and worried if he ever came back injured.

You two were attached. In what way, you couldn’t answer that question but you didn’t mind being close to him. Even if he never showed affection or attachment, you knew he felt something. Otherwise, you would’ve been dead already.

Michael never spoke nor gave indication of what he was feeling ever. You could only ever notice the extremes. And when you noticed Michael in his room for longer than normal, you wanted to help even if he always pushed you away.

You knocked but no answer. Knocked twice and still nothing. You took that as a “no entry” and sadly turned away.

Right as you did, the door opened and Michael looked to you with his same deadpan stare you always knew. His hands littered with white rose petals. You didn’t understand until he coughed again, more petals coming out.

You didn’t know how to react to it other than to grow concerned. His hands dropped the petals and grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them. His eyes looked to you and for the first time, there was a slight hint of fear there.

It was odd to see such a large man who had survived hell and back to show fear now. You guided him to the couch, wanting him to feel comfortable.

You grabbed his hand, forgetting how he was a murderer, forgetting how his hands were responsible for the deaths of so many. “Michael…”

He exhaled in response, looking at you through the strands of hair covering his face. He forcibly grabbed your hand, pulling you to him. Ending up in his lap, he held onto you, still silently staring. He buried his head in your chest, squeezing you tight. He didn’t want to let go.

You let your arms hold him to you, caressing the back of his head. You placed a small kiss to the top of his head.

“Michael… It’s okay. I’m here.”

Michael couldn’t take finally having an affectionate touch after so long. Restraint was something he never knew and letting himself have an ounce of it was like opening Pandora’s box. He pulled away and slammed his lips into yours. He pushed you down on the couch, placing his hands on either side of your face, trapping you there.

And yet, you didn’t deny him. You matched his desperate, sloppy kiss. And Michael could feel the air in his lungs return only to be immediately used from his kissing and grunting. And you knew where this was going when you felt his slight runting against your leg.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune