#so while he's always reassuring me there's also a part of me afraid of that happening once my body changes when i'll finally get on t

[incognit0slut]

The breaking point

Part 2 of Beyond the Limit (can also be read as a standalone)

Spencer realizes that being dominant doesn’t always require him to be rough, especially when he has complete control over your body.

warnings: (18+, MDNI) soft dom spence because there’s a lot of praising in this one, reader in lingerie, orgasm control or edging, overstimulation, reader gets cockdrunk (idk how to explain it better), a little cockwarming at the end

Words: 4,3k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for a while and i finally finished it, i don’t usually do a part two for my oneshots but…i’m actually tempted to do more

You were a tease—a goddamn tease. Spencer knew he needed to work on his self-control, but it was hard to keep his composure when you had the ability to stir desire within him. It was perplexing, given that there was a time when thoughts of anything remotely sexual never even crossed his mind.

For the majority of his life, intimacy had been a foreign concept. While he occasionally felt a pang of jealousy witnessing everyone around him find love, he managed just fine without it.  He suspected it was partly a defense mechanism, channeling his focus toward other aspects of his life—such as his mother's health, for example—to avoid dwelling on what he lacked.

But then all his beliefs shattered when you came crashing into his life. Suddenly, everything he thought he knew about himself was thrown away. Your presence sparked a fire within him that he never knew existed and he found himself craving the intimacy he had once dismissed as unnecessary.

He wasn't even aware of how touch-starved he was until he met you, and now it was hard to maintain that last thread of self-control he possessed. It wasn't that he didn't want to give in, but rather, he feared the intensity of his own desires, afraid that he might enjoy it more than he anticipated.

Because did he have to be rough with you for him to be satisfied, now that he had once known how it felt like? But how could he indulge in such temptation when you looked so utterly beautiful right now, so delicate, so precious in his eyes?

How could he even fathom ruining your perfection with roughness?

"Spence?" You nervously asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Your confidence was starting to dissipate as his eyes slowly traveled down your body, taking in the lingerie you chose to surprise him. Although this was not the reaction you were hoping for. "Do you not... like it?"

Spencer's gaze lingered on you, his expression was unreadable for a moment before a warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"No, no, it's not that," he reassured you, putting down the book he had been reading on the bedside table before you walked into your shared bedroom. He reached his hand out, motioning you to come closer. "It's just... you caught me off guard, that's all."

You approached him cautiously and as you stepped closer, you noticed the tension in his shoulders easing, replaced by a soft warmth in his eyes. His hand found its place on your waist, drawing you closer and you instinctively fell on his lap, your knees dipping onto the bed on each side of his thighs.

Feeling his arousal right between your legs, you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips. "So you do like it," you murmured, a hint of satisfaction lacing your words.

"Like it? Sweetheart, that's an understatement," he replied. His calloused palms traveled along your sides as he took in the way the lace material hugged your curves.

The lilac-colored lingerie set on your body accentuated your figure perfectly. Both pieces were see-through, granting him a glimpse of your chest and lower region. The delicate edges of the top were adorned with more of the soft fabric, cascading over your stomach and back in a gentle, stunningly pretty way.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer whispered as he traced the intricate patterns of the fabric with his fingertips. "Absolutely breathtaking."

His touch sent shivers down your spine. You leaned into him, relishing the warmth and tenderness of his touch as one of his hands moved up your arm before resting behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.

His lips touched yours gently, sending a thrill coursing through your body. He nipped at your bottom lip, his touch both teasing and tender and as he sucked on it softly, a low moan escaped you. He then deepened the kiss, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth, and you kissed him back eagerly, your lips moving in perfect sync with his.

When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, but he didn't stop giving you attention. His mouth made its way down to your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin and you couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. He then sucked on the spot below your ear, his lips creating a deliciously pleasurable sensation that made you moan softly in response.

You could feel his smile against your skin as he continued to travel further down, his lips leaving a trail of heat along your neck and collarbone. At the same time, his fingers pulled down the strap of your lingerie top, the material gracefully falling down your body, revealing more of your skin.

"Beautiful," he whispered as if it was the first time he laid his eyes on you, even if the two of you lost count long ago. His name slipped from your lips the moment his wide palms were pressed to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and your nipples hardened beneath his touch.

Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, and your breathing quickened in response when his thumb traced over your sensitive peak, sending electric sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. Spencer watched the way your eyes widened with desire, his own filled with a hunger that mirrored yours. And when he leaned closer, wrapping his soft lips around it, you were instantly gone.

The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, eliciting the most sinful sound you weren't even aware of making. It was like music to his ears, fueling his desire to please you even more. He continued to suck on your skin, giving the same attention to each breasts, his movements growing more fervent with each passing moment.

When he felt your hips bucking against his, he let out a low, guttural groan of pleasure. He softly drew back your nipple, your supple skin following his pull before he released it with a soft pop. Your skin glistened from his saliva, and honestly, Spencer had never seen such a splendid sight before.

The way you were grinding against him over his cotton pants frantically sent a surge of desire coursing through his veins. He could feel the thin fabric of your sheer panties pressing between your cunt, and with each movement, he could see glimpses of soft, bare skin glistening under the light, driving him wild with longing.

A primal need surged within him, a need to devour you, to lose control and indulge in the raw intensity. He craved to run his rough hands along your body, to explore every inch of your skin and claim you as his own. But he couldn't—not when you were the one in control as you sought pleasure in the way your hips moved against his.

So instead, his hands found purchase on your hips, guiding you to move faster. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Keep going."

You obeyed, pressing your aching heat against his cock, rolling your hips rapidly as a whimper of his name escaped you. You felt yourself growing hot and needy, your arousal dripping through your panties to coat his flesh beneath you, soaking through fabrics.

"Look at how wet you are," he mused, his voice laced with desire as he observed your flushed state and the evidence of your arousal staining the fabric between you. "Does this feel good?"

Your only response was another desperate moan, your body consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of being with him. What started lazy and slow soon turned into sporadic thrusts as you tried to cling to any friction. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your body quivered with a delicious ache. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

"I need to feel you," you breathed out quickly, and before he could register what was happening, your fingers were pulling down his pants frantically. Sensing your desperation, he was quick to push the fabric down as his cock sprung free.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you lift your hips above him, taking him by the base with one of your hands while the other pushed the material of your panties to the side. He groaned when you pressed the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. Spencer always made sure you were fully ready, either with his fingers or mouth—or even with your own fingers. But you were already wet enough, and you couldn't wait any longer to feel him inside you.

You nodded eagerly, the need for him overpowering any hesitation. "Please," you begged, your voice pleading and desperate. "I need you now."

Both of you watched in awe as his girth stretched your clenched walls, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelming your senses. It wasn't the first time this happened, but it felt like a new sensation each time, and you found yourself instinctively clenching around him, eager to feel him even deeper inside you.

"Fuck," you whimpered, allowing yourself a moment to adjust to his size. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as you squeezed yourself around him. With a slow, deliberate motion, you lifted your hips, feeling him ease out of you, only to lower yourself onto him again.

The sensation of him sliding back inside you made you gasp, a rush of pleasure washing over you as you took him deeper. His groan reverberated through your body, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. As his head fell back against the headboard, you couldn't help but whimper, the words tumbling from your lips without much thought.

"You fill me up so good," you confessed, your voice laced with desire as you rolled your hips against him. Your hands slipped under his shirt, feeling his soft stomach clench underneath your fingertips with every upstroke of your hips. "Take this off, baby."

With a low growl of approval, Spencer complied, swiftly removing his shirt and tossing it aside. Without hesitation, your hands trailed over his chest, reveling in the sensation of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

He watched you intently, captivated by the raw display of pleasure that painted your features. The way your face twisted in ecstasy, the way your mouth hung open in silent gasps, the way your breasts bounced with every movement—all of it drove him to the edge of his self-control.

As you quickened your pace, he felt his restraint slipping away, the urge to claim you completely becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Each time you clenched around him, it became harder for him to hold back. And as always, you could tell. You could feel the tension in his grip on your hips, the way his fingers dug into your flesh with a possessive urgency.

You slowed your hips, bringing your hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "You're doing it again."

His gaze met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and frustration. He knew exactly what you were referring to. "I... I can't help it. You drive me crazy."

"I know that," you responded, stilling for a moment as you kept him buried deep inside you. "I just need you to do something about it."

He slowly shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," you assured him, your voice filled with confidence as you leaned closer, bumping your nose against him seductively. "Come on, I know how much you want to be in control."

When he didn't respond, you pushed him even further, your lips tantalizingly close to his as you whispered your seductive taunt.

"I know you want more," you teased. "Don't you want to take control? Lie me on my back and fuck me until I can't think anymore? Until I beg you to stop while you use my body over and over again?"

"Don't tempt me," he choked out, his voice thick with longing and restraint.

But you weren't finished yet. "Yeah?" you challenged, your tone daring as you buried your hand in his disheveled, sweaty hair. "Then I dare you to."

You tugged on his roots.

"Fuck me, Spencer." You nipped on his bottom lip. "Fuck me real good."

His breath caught in his throat at your bold words, his heart pounding rapidly. With a shaky exhale, he met your gaze, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than ever before.

And then, in a sudden surge of boldness, he surprised you, flipping you onto your back as you let out an amused squeal. But your laughter was quickly drowned out by the heat of his lips crashing down on yours.

He kissed you feverishly, with a messy and desperate hunger that left you breathless. He clung onto you as if you were the very air he needed to survive. He was devouring you as if you were the most delicious meal he had ever encountered, and he savored every moment, every sensation, swallowing your desperate moans.

And then he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss but any hint of disappointment vanished as you watched him shed his last piece of clothing. Then with deliberate slowness, he reached for your panties, his eyes locked on yours as he dragged them up your leg, savoring the sight of the damp fabric clinging to your skin.

When he finally discarded it on the floor, he wasted no time in grabbing one of your legs. With deliberate tenderness, he began trailing soft kisses along the inner part of your thigh, each gentle press of his lips sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your breath quickened as you watched him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I'm not going to be rough," he whispered, his voice low and husky, his eyes never leaving yours as he planted soft kisses right at the edge of your drenching heat, teasingly close to where you craved him most. He then crawled over your body, settling himself between your legs, his gaze locked on yours.

"But I am going to use you," he murmured, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "You'll let me do that, won't you?"

As he hovered above you, his weight supported by his arms, you watched a strand of his outgrown hair fall over his eyes. With a gentle touch, you reached out and tucked it behind his ear, a soft smile playing on your lips as you nodded in response.

"Say it," he urged. "Tell me you're mine to use."

You met his gaze, your own eyes dark with longing and anticipation. "I'm yours," you whispered, and when you felt his tip pressing into your entrance once again, you gasped. "I-I’m yours to use."

In one swift motion, he filled you again with a hard thrust that had you arching your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you. "S-Spence..."

"Good girl," he praised, his words sending shivers down your spine as he kissed your cheek. His hips began to roll into you, setting a rhythm that drove you wild. "My good, pretty girl."

You whined in response, the sound music to his ears as he continued to thrust into you at a steady rhythm. He relished the way you responded to him, the way you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to use the way you were satisfied, to use the way you wanted him, to take you to the brink of ecstasy.

He wanted to use you in every way possible, to make you his in every sense of the word.

Spencer never considered himself a possessive person, but when it came to you, he wanted to be the one you surrendered to completely. And in this moment, he had never felt more in control. It was intoxicating, the power he held over you, the way you willingly gave yourself to him.

That was why when he felt you clenching around him, knowing you were so close to your peak, he stopped. He wanted to draw out this moment, to savor every sensation, every sound you made, every breath that escaped your lips. He wanted to draw out your pleasure until you were begging for release, until you were completely and utterly his.

"Why—" you gasped. "Why did you stop?"

He smiled down at you. "Because I want to make you feel good, Angel," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And I want to take my time doing it."

Your head fell back, and you couldn't help but bite your lip to suppress a moan. His use of the term Angel always had a way of melting your resolve, and you knew he was fully aware of the effect it had on you.

"Be patient," he chided before burying his head in the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin gently. Then, he resumed moving his hips, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. It felt incredible, but you couldn't shake the desire for him to fuck you harder.

"More," you cried out, feeling as if you were in a deep haze.

"Yeah? Spread your legs wider then."

You whimpered at his simple command, your shuddering legs gradually spreading a few inches wider. It was becoming harder to breathe from the way he was pushing you into the mattress, but you welcomed the pleasure, craving more of him.

Your hands clawed at his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks from your nails as you desperately sought something to hold onto. The intense pleasure coiled tightly in your gut, making you feel as if you were gasping for air while your head swam with overwhelming sensations.

Your moans became more fragmented with every stroke of his hips, your thoughts clouded by the pulsating ache between your legs. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sensation building within you, traveling along your body. You were so close—and then it stopped.

It simply stopped right at the edge, and you couldn't feel anything but a raw need. It was incredibly frustrating as you caught him smiling down at you. You whined and bucked your hips, chasing the tight warmth you had so suddenly been denied.

Your breath came out in short, ragged gasps. "You're evil," you managed to say, your voice trembling with need. "I-I was so close..."

"Too soon," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed his lips to yours. "Just imagine how good it'll be once I finally let you come."

Spencer then slowly pulled away, his eyes tracing every detail of your trembling form—the way your mouth was slackened open, the way your hair sprawled across the sheets, the way your eyes fluttered closed yet struggled to remain open. He noticed them glistening with unshed tears, on the verge of falling, and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

He knew he was pushing you to your limits, but he couldn't help himself. He was simply using you, just like you asked him to. But seeing the tears welling in your eyes, a wave of tenderness washed over him, and he leaned down to kiss them away, whispering soft words of comfort.

"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured. Although his words were spoken softly, there was nothing gentle about the way he continued to fuck you. "You can take it. Hold on a little bit longer, I promise."

A choked sob escaped you as he pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, murmuring soothing words. One of his hands reached between you, settling on the lower part of your stomach before pressing down gently as he felt the outline of cock moving inside you. He let out a groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"That’s it, Angel," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "You're taking me so well."

You whimpered almost pathetically as everything started to blur. You were a sweaty mess, both of you were, his skin gliding along yours effortlessly as he continued to thrust into you. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, so sticky, so messy, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

The throbbing between your legs was starting to burn, but at the same time, it felt so good—the way he was stretching you, the way you could feel him moving in and out of you. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, it was all too much but also not enough.

"S-Spence..." you whined, your head spinning with pleasure, almost too delirious as drool seeped down the corner of your lips. "Pl-Please, I-I can't—"

A soft chuckle escaped him as he watched you struggle to form coherent words. "Alright, alright, I got you," he murmured reassuringly. "On three now. Can you be a good girl and come at the count of three?"

You nodded weakly. "Yes, yes," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths.

"That's my girl," he praised, his voice filled with satisfaction. "One..."

Your breath hitched as anticipation built within you. Obscene wet noises filled your ears as he continued to fuck you, and with each number, his thrusts grew more deliberate, more intense.

"Two..."

You whined and he swallowed your moans, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. You couldn't form any coherent words. You couldn't even think. It was too fucking much and you were on the verge of your breaking point.

And then, on the final count, he drove into you with such force that it sent you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

"Three," he whispered as he pulled back slightly, a string of saliva connected your parted mouths.

You gasped, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure consumed you. Your senses overwhelmed, your vision blurred with white-hot intensity, and tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you teetered on the edge of overstimulation.

T-Too much—You can't. You fucking can't.

The sensation never seemed to end and you found yourself surrendering to it,  your mind going blank. It was as if you were intoxicated by the heady sensation, your senses dulled and heightened all at once, drunk on his touch. Your body felt so wet, so sensitive, so overwhelmed by the sheer force of your climax. 

And when you thought it couldn't get any more intense, he proved you wrong by rutting his hips even harder with so much force as he chased his own high. He tucked his head in your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he moaned into your ear. With a few final thrusts, he drove into you deeply, his body tensing as he released himself inside you.

You were tired, so overwhelmingly spent, and as you both came down from the high, you gasped and trembled, your body finally relaxing from the pent-up tension. Your eyes felt glassy and unfocused, blinking slowly as you registered his murmured praises against your neck and shoulder.

He gently pulled away, and you winced as you felt him still throbbing inside you. Slowly, he searched for your eyes, his gaze filled with tenderness, and sighed in relief when you looked up at him with a tired yet blissful smile on your lips.

He smiled softly, relieved by your response. "You're okay."

You nodded, still feeling a bit dazed. "Hmm," you murmured, running your fingers along his damp hair. "I'm more than okay."

He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did so well," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I'm so proud of you."

You giggled. "Me? I never thought you could be tempted to do that so easily."

He chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours. "You have that effect on me," he confessed. "Besides, it's hard to resist you."

"I am pretty irresistible, aren't I?"

"Absolutely," he replied as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. He shifted his weight and started to pull out, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in place.

"No, no," you pleaded. "Stay inside me for a while."

He paused, looking down at you with a smile. "We need to clean up."

"And we will." You ran a hand over his shoulder. "Just... give me five minutes."

He sighed, his resolve melting under your pleading gaze. "Alright, five minutes," he agreed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "But then we really need to clean up."

You responded with a soft hum, snuggling closer to him as he shifted toward the empty space on the bed. With a gentle gesture, he pulled you on top of him, enveloping you in his arms as you sprawled across his body. 

You let out a sigh, tucking your face into the crook of his neck with the rhythm of his heart beating against your own. And as you savored the sensation of him still pulsing inside you, you smiled peacefully—you have never felt so complete.

I'm tempted to turn this into a series of one-shots where he and Reader explore new kinks together... or like how they try to navigate their relationship. I'm really, really tempted.

[helluvapoison]

I just read your Lucifer ABC's and the idea of him knowing everything about reader, but also needing words of afirmation just gave me an idea. Just imagine Lucifer truly asking to be tested about how much he knows reader, and they just start asking "Who is the person that i love most?" "Who makes my heart flutter and beat so loud even heaven could hear it?" "Who lives in my head rent free that even while dreaming he's there making everything brighter?". Lucifer would crumble.

I cant take this image from mi mind, please honey, show me the sweet baby crumble.

The Answer

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

“C’mon!”

Lucifer’s smile threatens to crack his face in half.

He’s been begging you to quiz him on your knowledge of him even though you assured him, you believe he knows everything about you. A part of you knows this isn’t for you; it’s for him. Lucifer wants to prove he’s a worthy mate by sharing the information he’s collected about you. His crimson eyes are big and beautiful and straight up impossible to deny. With a smile of your own, you sigh and drop your phone. Turning to give him your full attention, you rest your head in your hands.

“Alright. What’s… my favorite color?”

Suddenly his smile drops, eyes rolling dramatically to the left.

“Pfft! That’s way too easy. You need to give me a harder one than that, darling!”

Pursing your lips to the side for only a moment, you don’t need to wrack your brain very hard for a question that would stun Lucifer. A smirk tugs across your face. It’s returned tenfold. He’s vibrating with excitement when he sees you’ve conjured something, something he thinks he can answer. That only makes you more ready to win the battle he’s started.

“Who’s the first person I’d tell a secret to?”

Lucifer inhales like he’s been holding his breathe the whole time.

“That’s—!” He chokes, pupils shrinking to slits, “That’s, uh…”

You make sure to give him a few seconds before dropping the next question.

“Who’s the person I want to see every morning, noon and night of every day?”

“I-I know this one!” Lucifer assures but deflates, shoulders slumping with the amount of uncertainty weighing him down.

“Who am I thinking about every waking moment because they’re my favorite person in the universe?”

Lucifer looks like he wants to say the answer, but he’s afraid it’s wrong. His mouth opens and shuts unsure of itself. His eyes scan your face for any warning signs and although he finds none, it’s as if he can’t trust any of his senses.

Who makes me smile and laugh more than anyone?

Who’s so creative they always have me in awe?

Who can make my day brighter just by being themself?

Question after question, you tug him closer by his hips until he’s flush against you. You will your hands to deliver to reassurance your words cannot. Fingers glide up his neck and comb through his blonde locks, every stroke an apology for dragging the game on.

“Who do I love the very most and thank Heaven every night for sending him to me?”

Your hands steal the apples of his cheeks and tilt his head up. Your eyes grip his in a staring competition fueled by adoration. The games over and forgotten but it has a clear winner. Lucifer’s a blushing disaster, his voice failing him and melting to a whine. He swallows hard on nothing, eyebrows pinching together making his expression appear dangerously hopeful.

Your voice drops to an agonizingly soft whisper. Syrupy sweet yet serious.

“I’ll give you a hint. He’s my angel… His name starts with an L… He’s looking at me like he wants a kiss…?”

“I—Is… Is it.. Me?”

“Yes, Luci. The answer is you.”

Closing the small gap between you both, you finally give him a reward for answering the question correctly.

[lxkeee]

I absolutely love your writing!! And don't get me wrong, I love Lucifer, but they way you write Azreal and the Eveningstar family lives in my head 24/7. The AU where reader ends up with Azrael is my absolute fav to come back to, along with the main series it stemmed from. I'd love to see more content of him in general. I've been driving myself crazy imaging a part 2 to the AU with Lucifer wanting to reconnect with reader and having this family unit with them, only to realize that he lost them completely when he fell and that they've moved one and found happiness without him. Very hurt/no comfort for Luci while reader finally experiences a returned unconditional love with Azrael.

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE

Pairing: Azrael Eveningstar x Seraphim Angel! Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: hurt and no comfort for our short king

Notes: an alternate universe where [y/n]'s family is complete, Xavier doesn't have any daddy issues nor has any hatred for Charlie as he doesn't give any crap about her and Lucifer (well, he did at some point but forgave them), where it was simply the wrong person and wrong time. Where it was Azrael who is endgame. This isn't canon to the fanfic storyline, simply an au.

Additional notes: I LOVE IT WHEN READERS WANT MORE AZRAEL CONTENT OMG

CH. 1 | CH. 4 | NAVIGATION

They finally have done it. Hazbin Hotel is finally booming in business, many sinners are finally checking in and giving redemption a try.

Though, Lucifer cannot help but be nervous. Heaven or specifically, the Seven Virtues requested a meeting with him and his daughter and along with Vaggie, they wanted to talk about the hotel and also about his punishment.

Why wouldn't he be nervous? The last time he was in a meeting with them, they absolutely crushed his hopes and dreams and to add to the fact that his first wife, now ex-wife is part of the organization.

Lucifer doesn't know how to handle it, he's afraid of how he'll act once he sees her and the fact that Charlie told him about his son that he left her with. Absolute guilt.

He misses her, he misses [y/n] so much and he regrets how he treated her. He neglected her, abandoned her and their son. Even after all these years, his heart still longed for her.

“Dad? You okay?” Charlie asked worriedly, holding her bag. Currently, they are waiting for the portal to heaven to open for their meeting tomorrow. She noticed that her dad seems to be in deep thought, she knows what's plaguing his mind—meeting his ex-wife again and seeing his son for the first time. She too is nervous about what will happen when that moment comes.

“The portal seems to be taking a long time to open.” Angel Dust snickered and Vaggie elbowed him on the side, somehow both Alastor, Niffty, and Angel Dust wanted to join them. Leaving the hotel underneath [f/n]'s care, another overlord who joined the hotel.

“You're really complaining when you're not even invited,” Vaggie muttered before turning to look at Alastor, “I am even surprised that even you also decided to join us, how come?” Vaggie deadpans at Alastor and the taller demon just laugh, radio static filling the air, “Myyy~! I am merely curious what the heavenly realms looked like. Nothing more~” He grins, quite mischievously. Vaggie narrowed her eyes at the radio demon.

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head and gives Charlie a small reassuring smile, “I'll be fine, I'm just a little... Nervous.” he admits softly and Charlie nodded in understanding, placing a hand over her father's shoulder. She understands him, she too is nervous in seeing her half brother. Last time she saw him, he was giving her judgmental looks.

“I'm sure we'll be fine... Maybe this will be your chance to reconnect with them?” Charlie suggested, hopeful that somehow the two families can find a neutral area to get along with each other. After all, she always wanted an older sibling or siblings in general. She hopes that she and Xavier can get along.

Lucifer smiled, he too is hoping that this meeting will be fruitful and won't go so horribly.

A golden portal opened in front of them and they looked at each other, nodding as they finally took a step inside.

Heaven, is very bright compared to hell. Too much white, gold, and blues.

The crew looked at Lucifer, urging him to take the lead as he did come from here. Lucifer sighs, despite the nervousness, he decides to approach the pearly white gates of heaven. Standing in front of the counter of Saint Peter. The others are following him.

“Welcome to heaven, can I get your names please?” Saint Peter asked, opening his book. Lucifer sighs, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

“Lucifer... Morningstar...” Lucifer says, almost a whisper. Cringing slightly as he watched the Saint slam his book close, “Oh... Fuck!” Saint Peter exclaimed with a nervous chuckle.

“Um... I wasn't aware that you will be visiting today...” the Saint said with an awkward chuckle, Angel Dust just smirked while Alastor just grins, clearly interested in what heaven has to offer.

Charlie stood nervously beside Lucifer, unsure what to do next.

“Saint Peter, please grant them access. They are here for an important meeting.” a young masculine voice says, surprising the hell citizens. Turning to look at the gate and their eyes widened to see an almost exact replica of Lucifer—except for the eyes and height.

Lucifer's eyes widened and Charlie can be seen to become more nervous as the young man approached their group.

Saint Peter eyes widened, not expecting to see the young general today. “R-right. Please, come in.. heaven officially welcomes you.” Saint Peter says, opening the gates wider for the group.

Lucifer couldn't think, his ears ringing as he looked at the newcomer. Lucifer examined the angel's appearance—an almost exact replica of him and of course, he knows those eyes very well. The same [e/c] eyes his ex-wife has. The angel wearing a white military-ish uniform with gold shoulder pads, elbow length black leather gloves and knee high leather black heeled boots.

Charlie gave his hand a gentle squeeze in assurance, he squeezed it back, grateful for her support.

Alastor grins, not expecting a twist in the scenario.

The young man turned to look at them with a gentle smile, “Greetings, I am Xavier. I am tasked with showing you guys where you will stay for tonight.” Xavier says.

Xavier looked at his obvious half family from hell, before, he had anger for them but because of his mother's influence, he was able to manage his anger on them. But it doesn't mean he'll accept Lucifer and Charlotte his family, he already has his own family in heaven. He doesn't need them.

“Please follow me and keep up.” Xavier says, almost emotionless. It's a habit of his, it might come off as rude or cold to people he just met but he doesn't care. His mother is the angel of kindness, he needs to inherit her kindness instead of his father's pride.

The hell citizens just looked at him with slight nervousness—aside from the smiling one—before eventually following him.

Lucifer just stared at the back of Xavier's head, the golden halo shining brightly against his light blonde hair. He wanted to speak to him but words wouldn't come out of his mouth. He just follows in silence, his demon kind just looking at him in worry—except Alastor, who just gave him a teasing grin.

They followed him, it took a while but they finally arrived at their destination. A large white mansion with black and gold accents, surrounded by fluffy white clouds and trees. Sunflower and tulip fields decorating the front garden. [Y/n]'s favorite flowers.

“This is where you'll be staying so please, come inside.” Xavier says, the gates to the large mansion opening for them.

They admired the scenery, it is completely different from hell. Clean and tidy. Almost blinding to the eye.

They finally arrived inside the large mansion, completely in awe with its exterior and interior designs.

“Don't worry about the palace being too crowded, it's just me and my family living here.” Xavier explained, ushering them to follow him. Walking towards the supposed living room, they weren't able to see the large family portrait on the wall as it was mounted on a wall that they couldn't see.

“I am surprised we're staying somewhere luxurious this time unlike last time. How come?” Charlie asked and Xavier gave her a raised eyebrow before sighing.

“The guest rooms are currently full while waiting for new buildings to be created for the new souls. The seven thought it would be a good idea if one of them houses you guys.” Xavier shrugs before continuing to tour them around. Angel whistling in admiration.

“And this will be your room.” Xavier says as he showed Lucifer his room. The others are already settled in.

“Thank you.” Lucifer says, almost a whisper as he went inside the large luxurious room. Xavier nodded as he stood at the doorway.

“It's nothing, I'll get going now and if you need me, I'll be in the living room.” Xavier says before turning around to leave.

“Wait!”

Lucifer doesn't know what he was thinking, he just acted out on impulse. Xavier stopped, turning around to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What is it?” Xavier asked, looking down on him. Mom, why is he so small? He thought.

Lucifer gulped, clearly nervous, “Are you... My...?” he couldn't get all the words out as his ears were ringing.

“Son?” Xavier completed, crossing his arms to look at his blood father, “Yes.” he says flatly and Lucifer's breath hitched.

Xavier sighs, already done with this, “Look, I am going to be straight with you dear father of mine.” Xavier says flatly, Lucifer looking at the taller boy in front of him.

“Just because you're my blood father doesn't mean I want you back in my life, whatever you're trying to do. I don't welcome it. I couldn't care less about you or my half sister. Do you understand? So, stop. Don't give me and my family a hard time. You've done enough damage already.” Xavier says coldly, catching Lucifer off guard. The fallen angel's heart shattered at the boy's harshness.

“Excuse me, I still have work to do.” Xavier says as he quickly walked away. Lucifer nodded, almost robotic. He went inside the guestroom and cried.

Lucifer doesn't blame Xavier for acting that way. After all, he's a horrible husband and father to [y/n] and Xavier.

Dinner was oddly awkward, a tension between the three blood relatives. Xavier didn't join them, opting to only have a drink instead.

“Aren't you going to eat?” Charlie asked hesitantly as she sat beside her dad, Xavier didn't bother looking up from his golden holographic screen that came from his wrist watch, his other hand typing into the hair and into the hologram.

“I'll eat later.” Xavier answers nonchalantly, they can clearly see him texting his mom.

M: Don't be too harsh on them sunshine.

X: I'm trying.

D: Well you better try harder, kiddo.

X: 🙄

X: What time will you come home?

D: Late as usual.

M: Indeed, there are still many things to finish but your father and I will make it quick to join you for dinner.

X: Alright, stay safe.

D: Love you, kiddo. Goodluck lol.

M: We will, sunshine. Love you<3

X: love you guys too.

Xavier was grinning slightly as he texted some people, Lucifer assumed it was [y/n] and somebody else he doesn't know of.

Lucifer avoided Xavier after that, clearly heartbroken. Lucifer assumes the D and M profiles meant Mom and Dad and Lucifer assumed that [y/n] remarried and he can clearly see how happy Xavier is talking to them.

To shorten this all up, the meeting went smoothly. The Seven Virtues promised to fund the hotel and also asked for Lucifer's forgiveness for how harsh they treated him. Heaven took back his punishment and he can freely visit heaven anytime. Lucifer was able to find out that Azrael married [y/n] and she's happily married to the man. Though, she doesn't hate him and forgave him but she did make it clear that she doesn't want him back to her life and so did Xavier and Lucifer respected their wishes.

Finally returning back to hell, Lucifer was extremely heartbroken. He lost before he even got to start. But part of him is glad that [y/n] found a better man than him, someone who treats her better than him.

End notes: I got a little lazy at the end lmao.

TAGLIST:

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi gorgeous a fic request idea it's my first time requesting so sorry if I'm doing it wrong! What about reader being insecure about herself and worrying she's not smart or hot enough for Eddie and it's just Eddie being confused bc how could she think that wen he's the town freak?? and then reassuring her and just lots of fluff

Ah, this is so relatable! I know I need Eddie to reassure me. Also, the only way to request wrong is by being rude and you most definitely were not 💕

Words: 1.2k

You’re not sure what caused the recent feeling of inadequacy, but you just can’t shake it. The last few weeks it feels like a storm has been rolling in bit by bit, always adding something new to the pile of things you already dislike about yourself. The little things that have always irked you in the back of your mind steadily keep making their way forward, pushing and shoving like there’s a clearance sale on your happiness and they want first dibs. 

It doesn’t matter that your grades are holding steady because you answered a question wrong in class today when the teacher called on you. You’re such an idiot. There’s a new pimple growing in like a second head near your lips. You’re so gross. The weather be damned, your hair is going to look a wreck rain or shine. You’re such a mess. The clothes the other girls wear are flattering and beautiful, making yours look like dirty dish rags in comparison. You’re such a loser. 

Despite trying your damnedest to hide how you’re feeling from the world, your boyfriend knows you too well for that. Eddie notices the way you lose focus, your attention drifting somewhere else—internally, he’s afraid. 

Your latest zone out is while the two of you are sitting on his couch, watching a movie. A part that you’ve laughed at a million times before comes on and Eddie can tell your brain hasn’t even registered what’s on screen. He keeps stealing glances at you from the corner of his eye, growing more concerned each time. Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. 

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” You’re broken out of your stupor and meet Eddie’s gaze with glassy eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks, concern etched deep into his brow.

“What do you mean?” You know your attempt at playing dumb won’t work either—on top of everything else, you’re a shit actress too. 

“You’ve seemed sad lately. Kind of…distant,” Eddie says, taking care to choose his words carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel as if he’s interrogating you but wants to convey his genuine worry and concern.  

Shame floods your body as you realize Eddie has noticed your change lately. Just another thing for you to feel bad about. You shift awkwardly, moving out from under Eddie’s arm, where you were nestled comfortably. 

“N-Nothing’s wrong.”

Eddie gives you a disbelieving look. You can’t blame him; that was some pretty shitty bluffing.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, “you think I don’t know you well enough to tell when something’s wrong? When you’re lying?”

“You do,” you admit, voice low and soft. 

It’s a mutual instinct, though, as you can read Eddie just as well. The sadness in his eyes cracks your heart in two, knowing you’re what’s causing it. 

“Talk to me,” Eddie says, taking one of your hands. He holds your hand in both of his and gently massages it. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, trying to avoid his eyes. “I just feel…off lately.”

“How so?”

Embarrassment grows inside of you, blooming like a flower—or maybe a weed. It’s hard for you to bring yourself to tell Eddie the truth–it just makes you feel even more pathetic than you already are. There’s no use trying to keep it from him any longer, though. 

“Like I’m not…enough.”

“Enough? Enough of what?” Eddie’s brow furrows in confusion as he keeps rubbing his thumbs along the back of your hands. 

“Well, enough for you,” you admit as you feel your cheeks burn with the humiliation that the truth brings.

“Me?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together, and he shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

You breathe out a defeated sigh that breaks Eddie’s heart and take your hand from his grasp. 

“I see all the other girls,” you say, anger creeping into your tone. Not anger at Eddie or at the other girls; anger at yourself for being so inferior. “They’re so pretty and smart and I can’t help but wonder why you want to be with me.”

Every word you say confuses and shocks Eddie even further.

“You…huh?” Eddie says, mind not able to comprehend what’s going on. In his mind, there is not a single dimension or alternate reality where you aren’t enough for him. It’s simply not possible. 

“I’m not hot enough for you,” you say with a sniffle and a shrug. “Or smart enough. Or nice enough, or funny enough—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Eddie says, waving his hands in front of him. “You’re not serious, are you?”

The look on your face and the tears about to spill from your eyes when you look at him tell him that you are, though. Eddie can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle and shake his head.

Your brow furrows at his laughter and a tear escapes your eye and makes its way down your cheek. Panic flashes in Eddie’s eyes when he sees your reaction and he’s quick to remedy the situation. 

“Oh, no, no!” he says. His hands come up to cup your face and his thumb wipes away your rogue tear. “I don’t think it’s funny. Well, in a way I kind of do. You think you’re not enough for me? Sweetheart, you really have no idea how amazing you are, do you?” When your only reply is another sniffle, Eddie sighs. “I don’t understand how you could think that,” he says. “You do know you’re dating the town freak, right?”

“But you’re not,” you insist defiantly. 

“And you’re not all those mean things you think about yourself.” He lets his hands fall down to your lap and takes your smaller ones in his. “Babe, you’re so insanely hot I can’t even believe you noticed me.”

Eddie chuckles and squeezes your hands. “And aren’t you the one always helping me with homework? Don’t I always get better grades when you help me?”

Eddie sighs and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. You’re both quiet for a few moments. Eddie lets his eyes slip closed for a second before looking at you once again.  

“I hate that you’ve been feeling so down about yourself. I wish you saw yourself like I do. You’d see that you’re the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world. Who is smart, who is kind, who is funny, who is everything she tells herself she’s not.” He leans in and presses a soft, sweet kiss against your lips. “I love you. I love you more than anything else in the world,” he tells you.

“I love you, too,” you reply in a whisper, tear tracks staining your cheeks. 

“Now, look at me,” Eddie says. He sits up straight and looks you in the eye.

“I am,” you say in a small voice.

“Am I lying?”

You know him so well, know when he’s telling even the slightest fib. But there’s no sign of that in Eddie’s eyes nor on his face at all. 

“No,” you admit.

“Come here,” Eddie says with a sigh, opening his arms for you.

Immediately you fall into them and nuzzle your face against his shirt. It’s your safe place; everything is always better when your head is on Eddie’s chest.

“Promise you’ll tell me when you have these thoughts, yeah?” he asks and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “And I’ll remind you that they’re not true. That you’re my gorgeous, brilliant girl. Promise me?”

“I promise,” you say, tilting your head up to look him in the eye.

He kisses your lips a few times, punctuating the message of his words. 

“You're my favorite,” he whispers against your mouth as you part. 

“Favorite what?”

“Everything.”

[runicarbiter02]

Helllooo! Request are open and I'm running over here. Can I request hdc for alejandro vargas and ghost, being jealous because there crush is a little bit touching with another men. Thank youu honey.

A/N: This is definitely an interesting one! I'd be happy to write these for you, since you specifically specified them, I'll just do them for this one. :) I hope you enjoy, darling! I'm still learning how to write for Ale, so I apologize if he's a bit OOC! Also, thank you all for over 1,000 notes on my first headcanon request! I am so, so happy you all are liking the post! ~ Hannah

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

I imagine with Alejandro, this would be a slow burn friends to lovers sort of situation. You, Alejandro, and Rudy have all been friends since you all joined up together. Alejandro has always been on the flirtier side with most people, which is why whenever he flirts with you, you don't tend to think much of it. That's just who he is, right?

Los Vaqueros had just gotten a new member, a young, handsome man in his mid-twenties. He's conventionally attractive and funny, which some of the other women definitely admire, but your thoughts are elsewhere. Unfortunately - or fortunately, if you look at it a certain way - you were assigned to show him around the base and get him up to speed.

Cut to the both of you in the mess hall on base, chattering away. Alejandro sees the both of you, and his blood boils. Who does this hijo de puta think that he is?

What really pisses him off is when the young man leans in, saying something that makes you laugh and you playfully shove him away with a coy smile. Alejandro quickly storms out, furious with the young man, but furious with himself for getting so upset.

He doesn't realize you follow him out until he feels your hand on his shoulder.

"Ale? What's wrong, hermano?" If only you knew how much he hated that nickname coming from your lips.

When he turns, one look at how concerned you are, and all his frustrations come spilling from his lips. He's just about to brush it off as him being silly when you don't respond right away before a laugh is erupting from you.

"Ale, he's not into me. He's just friendly. I thought he was flirting with me earlier, but he let me know that he's no even interested in sexual stuff. He's ace," You reassure, and suddenly, Alejandro feels ridiculously stupid. But that falls aside when you stand on your toes and brush a kiss to his cheek. "Now come on, cariño, you need to eat." His eyes follow you as you return to the mess hall, and he's stunned into silence.

Maybe he feels a little less bad about getting jealous.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

This man hates his jealousy. Despises it.

But, it's a part of him nonetheless, and it's something he has to live with.

I imagine it as quiet, little things around base that really gets to him: you're a medic, a really good one at that, and the men absolutely love you for how kindly you treat them all. You have patience, but you aren't afraid to bark orders at them if they're acting out of place.

"MacTavish, if you rip your stitches one more time, I'll kick your ass into next fucking week." "Captain, I don't care if you have more paperwork to do, get your ass in bed before I drag you there myself." "Hold still or I will personally strap you to this cot myself, rookie."

Your feisty nature and take-no-shit attitude is absolutely what drew him to you initially. Cue almost a year of pining on his end, and on your end, but not to his knowledge.

The final straw that ultimately cracks his resolve is a young sergeant that is trying to flirt with you while you stitch up a bullet wound on his side. It's obvious you're just being polite as you accept his compliments and hum in response at his attempts at flirting, but it still rubs Simon the wrong way.

Simon's jealousy is quiet, boiling, settling in the center of his chest. Every touch of yours against the sergeant's skin merely stokes the flames, but he does nothing, continuing to brood in the corner. He waits until you're done, shooing the young man off with a half-assed threat of harm if he ruins his stitches. That's when you finally notice him.

"Ghost, what have I told you about lurking in my med bay?" You tease softly before taking note of the hard look in his eyes. Slowly, you put two and two together, chuckling softly. "Ah, I see. C'mere, big guy."

He isn't mad. Not at all. All he can think about is that young man, who has all he doesn't: charm, good looks, youth, and the blessing of a childhood unscarred by a demon of a father. Simon isn't so lucky.

He can't stop himself as he follows your instructions, stepping into your office and taking a seat at your desk as you close the door. You sit on top of your desk and smile down at him before you hold out your hand expectantly. He furrows his brows but gives you his hand anyway, grumbling something about how he "doesn't know where your filthy mitts have been."

As soft kisses are pressed to his knuckles, however, he goes quiet. "Silly, jealous man. Can't even see that I look at you the same way you look at me. Eyes of a hawk, my ass," You tease.

He turns every shade of red beneath his damn balaclava, and you're damn certain to tease him about it as he melts back into the seat.

Hijo de puta - Son of a bitch

Hermano - Brother

Cariño - Honey; dear

TAGLIST

@floral-force

[dragon-ascent]

Hello, how are you ? Since you have open request I’d like to ask something : How do you think our favorite dragon Zhongli will react to his wife being accused of lying because they have corrected an historian on a false fact about Morax ?

Since English isn’t my first language I’m afraid this is not clear, I’m sorry.

Ooh, I like it, here's what I've come up with <3

-----

The tension is palpable and certainly not what you were hoping to land yourself in when you accepted Zhongli's request to be his plus-one aboard the Pearl Galley.

"Forgive me, Mr. Changying, but that's where I'll have to correct you," you tell the stocky man before you. The food and drinks on the table are long-untouched. "Rex Lapis didn't take on such a grand ten-headed and eight-armed form to exterminate those sea creatures. In fact, he personally went door to door to trap them in little Geo contraptions, even having a bit of trouble with the.... particularly wrigglier ones."

Changying's eyes practically roll into the back of his head. "Do you truly believe that rubbish just because that is what's commonly peddled? That the Geo archon, who could raise the mountains and calm the tides without breaking a sweat, found the task of getting rid of tiny sea creatures tedious and challenging?"

Sighing, you say, "Even the gods are subject to being less-than-perfect in their methods. And besides, the damn things were inside people's houses - brute strength would not have been handy at all. Rex Lapis needed to be careful and meticulous so that none of his people were harmed. Hence the Geo cages."

Despite how neatly you'd presented your counterpoint, Changying merely scoffs as he adjusts his glasses. He jabs a finger at you accusingly. "You're lying, just like everyone else," he growls, "and you clearly have no respect for our late archon! Do you even like him?"

Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as you gaze up at him in shock. "Ex...excuse me?"

The man pulls no punches as he continues his rant against you. "How can you so blindly believe what the masses think? Maybe if you were a real Rex Lapis follower like me, you would learn some critical thinking skills and draw more accurate conclusions!"

"I'm afraid I am on the side of my partner here, Mr. Changying," cuts in Zhongli, placing an arm on your shoulder. Relief floods your veins as you let out the breath you'd been holding. "They are correct in explaining that Rex Lapis had to go the simplistic route when dealing with Liyue's sea creature infestation."

Changying's eyes grow wide. "Forgive me, Mr. Zhongli," he murmurs, and you're not ignorant to the way his tone mellows out and becomes more respectful as he continues to speak. "I didn't know you were also in agreement of that story. But let me explain why he likely-"

"It is alright for you to have your own interpretations of events, especially for a being with an expansive history that is always being debated over," says Zhongli calmly, poised as always, "but when these interpretations are unrealistic and you still try to present them as fact...while belittling other people, no less...the line must be drawn somewhere, yes?"

Changying blanches, stammering, "Er, but don't you think Rex Lapis would appreciate deviating thought processes more, especially when..."

Zhongli's eyes narrow ever so slightly, his visage still calm as a pond. "Perhaps so, but what he would not appreciate is his people trying to one-up others in an attempt to prove they are his most loyal followers." Your husband glances at you. "I know my partner well, and they love Rex Lapis dearly. Not only do you accuse them of lying, you also undermine the love they hold for the deity."

His hand brushes against yours and he interlaces his fingers with you, giving a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You smile softly.

Changying scrambles for words, useless excuses and explanations that hardly justify him being on his high horse.

Zhongli, unamused, fires his parting shot. "Far be it for an ordinary man like myself to tell you what to do, but here is some advice: gather reliable citations for your claims, provide succinct evidence, and be respectful of those with opposing views, and perhaps then Rex Lapis would consider you a favorite of his."

With that, Zhongli escorts you away from the scene, knowing full well you will always be his favorite by far - the approving smile he gives you conveys that perfectly.

[locketsvault]

「 CUDDLING WITH BSD MEN PT 2/4 」

pairings: chuuya x reader ፥ akutagawa x reader ፥ oda x reader

tags: gender neutral reader, no agab mentioned, first person, fluff, cuddling/phyiscal affection

warnings: talks of canon illness in akutagawa, not proof read

other parts: ada ᨒ port mafia ᨒ doa + the guild ᨒ the hunting dogs

a/n: fyi for chuuya I have not read stormbringer so forgive me. oda is also short because I didn’t really know what to say for him. no gender or sex mentioned, no pronouns either!

// chuuya nakahara ⌇˚.༄

⮑ Is there such thing as classy cuddles? Because he gives classy cuddles.

⮑ The word I’d use for him in a relationship is classy, I can’t help it. But I do mean classy in a good way. Physical affection with him started off small, and he allowed you to pace when you were ready for more. I also see him as someone who always has an arm around you, either over your shoulders or on your waist.

⮑ He keeps pda to a minimum, he won’t cuddle you in public, especially in front his co workers. He’s an executive and he takes it serious. I also don’t think he’d want to show you as his weakness, he wouldn’t want you to get hurt.

⮑ Cuddling with Chuuya is oddly nice. Oddly because he seems rough on the outside. He is very rarely little spoon during cuddle sessions, he feels insecure. But he makes up for it, he’s a great big spoon. He’s a warm, very very warm. I can actually picture you in between his legs cuddling him while he has a wine glass in his hand. Now a many things could happen, one of you is talking, or you’re watching something. Either way, it works well with him.

⮑ The downside is he isn’t home much for cuddles. He’s either away for jobs or at work. So unless you’re willing to sit in his lap while he does paperwork, you don’t get your cuddles.

⮑ 7/10, very good cuddles …when you get them.

// ryunosuke akutagawa ⌇˚.༄

⮑ I just want to know how you managed to touch him in the first place.

⮑ Everyone always says he is touch adverse, which I completely agree, but then people usually say that when it comes down to it he hates it and stuff like that. I have to disagree. I think he’s terrified of it yes, he grew up without any form of physical love, but I do think deep down he yearns for it. He craves it and, when he finally gives in, his entire meticulously built wall completely shatters. Which is how I wonder, how’d you manage it?

⮑ I won’t lie, I believe behind closed doors once he’s comfortable with cuddling or touch and he’s quite clingy. You just feel so warm and well— safe. I can promise you though, it will only be behind closed doors. Do not try to be physically affectionate in public, especially in front of his coworkers. At least not for a very long time.

⮑ I like to imagine that after a time, with lots of reassurance about his ability, he will pull you into cuddles with rashomon. Which, I feel like he’d be bad about verbally asking for affection so he’d do that instead. It’s easier on his illness to use his ability.

⮑ Speaking of his illness sadly, it can make cuddling tough. One moment you could be resting in his arms and the next he’s having a nasty coughing fit. There’s been times when he’s be insecure about his illness and not want to be touched anymore.

⮑ 4/10, I love my baby but his illness + his traumas it’s hard for him to be physically affectionate.

// oda sakunosuke ⌇˚.༄

⮑ He takes care of orphans therefore I am a firm believer he knows how to cuddle.

⮑ I mean it too, he takes care of kids physically and emotionally, he’s got dad hugs. If anyone is gonna hold you and it make you feel safe and taken care of, it’s him. And he knows it too. And he has a six sense for when you need cuddling. And sometimes you end up in a cuddle pile with the kids. I don’t make the rules.

⮑ Oda is 50/50 with pda, he doesn’t mind it, especially if it’s something you love. But it does worry him, like Chuuya, he’s afraid of showing you as a weakness and you getting hurt or killed. But if it’s safe, he usually sticks to holding your hand or holding your waist. I can see him holding you close with your heads rested in each others shoulders while at a public theater.

⮑ Private cuddles are common and comfortable. Oh and he’s always the big spoon. He’s always holding you, I don’t really see him as the type to be held.

⮑ 9/10 you can feel all the care in his arms.

main hub ✦ masterlist ✦ to do list

[adventuringblind]

Breathe For Me

LandOscar x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Dialouge: "It's okay, you can rest. We've got you. Just Breathe."

Summary: Marks on your soulmates skin appear on yours. Oscar and Lando hope they find whoever it is before they run out of time.

Warnings: SELF-HARM, Alcohol, scars, blood, panic attacks,

Notes: This is Part of my 1000 follower event. Feel free to click the link and throw me a request!

Masterlist

It's not every day you meet your soulmate. It's certainly not rare, but it also isn't an everyday event and is supposed to only happen once. If you're Lando Norris, then you get to go through it twice.

Originally he thought only one. I mean, maybe his souldmate is just clumsy. That is not the case however, because Lando has more scars, cuts, bumps, and bruises then anyone else he knows. He would be fine with it if he wasn't on national television all the time.

Max and Charles were lucky and found each other in Karting. Max had a bruise on his face from his dad and showed up to the race with it still getting darker. Charles had one to match. Now they're happily in love and the public doesn't now (is what they tell themselves).

So Lando finds himself stuck in between a soulmate who bruises every occasionally and on who gets scrapes nearly every day. He feels for whoever the first is because Lando is clumsy and is always running into things. Between himself and whoever the latter is, he probably is already exasperated.

Aside from his family, Carlos is the first person to notice. He double checks nothing is happening in Lando's own life that is causing all the marks. He assures happily that he's clumsy and the two soul mates certainly don't help.

Lando has heard of people carving names and addresses into their arms to find their destined partner. He lets it happen naturally. It's supposed destiny and who is he to rush it?

Daniel admits to an extreme worry of Lando. The older driver kept a close eye on him and Lando has to reassure him non-stop that he's clumsy, but it's not that bad.

He soon realizes that it's not the bruises Daniel is worried about, it's the scars. When his sweatshirt sleeves roll up the red lines are visible. It's something he's gotten used to over the past couple of years, but he dosen't think about it when he's not being filmed.

They cover a good amount of space on his body. Biceps, collarbone, thighs, stomach, and shins. It wasn't that bad until 2021 when it got significantly worse. It's stressing him out if he's being honest with himself.

He's is pieces when Daniel tells him he's losing his seat. No other driver lined up yet. Another teammate gone.

Daniel reassures him that Oscar looks like he'll make a good teammate. Lando is skeptical. Oscar is younger and a rookie.

The first time he meets Oscar is at the MTC. They shake hands, two sets of sleeves role up and Lando can't help but stare.

They match. Their wrists are completely identical.

They don't talk about it until a while later after spending the off season getting to know each other. They determined in Febuary they would be really close friends. It obviously escalated and now Charlotte keeps tell him to make it less obvious.

He's nit afraid to say he's weak for Oscar. A calm in his storm of emotions. The one person who can get him to actually rationalize his anxious thoughts.

In 2023, three rookies came to the grid. One of them being a female driver for alphatauri and a good friend of Oscar's. She then consequently became a friend of Lando's.

Which would be so terrible if Lando didn't know for a fact she's hiding something. She's shy and closed off to everybody unless it's him or Oscar. Mostly because he's forced his way under her skin.

"There is something about her, Osc. I can feel it in my bones."

"Are you sure it's not the cup of milk you downed getting to your head?"

"Rude!"

Oddly enough, it's max who approaches them about her later. He'd gotten to know her through media things and race weekends and often asked Lando about her or vice versa.

He pulls Oscar and him aside early one morning in the paddock. Oscar is still half asleep and Lando doesn't know what's happened until Max slides their sleeves up.

The ones they decided to wear to the cameras didn't pick up the fresh scar close to their elbow on their forearms. Completely identical to each other.

"You said you have another soulmate right?"

"Yes?"

"I think I might know who it is."

This is how Lando and Oscar find themselves in front of her hotel room door after the race. A DNF that wasn't her fault had ended her race early. Max had been about to go get her himself, but Lando and Oscar had said they would. If Max is right then they have a higher chance of getting through to the female driver.

Max sent them with the key card he has to her room. The one he forced her to give after he found her last night with a blade in her hand.

They knock out of curtosey first. No answer, as expected, but at least they tried. Maybe She’s asleep? Lando knows that’s probably not the case but he really doesn’t want to and see what is most likely happening. If the sting on his thigh says anything, it’s definitely not sleep.

Oscar keys the door open and hesitantly steps inside. Lando follows right on his heels. The lights are off and he would probably think it was empty if it weren’t for the visible blob of blankets in the corner that’s sobbing violently. to close to hyperventilation for Lando’s liking. He takes immediate action and pulls her out of the blankets.

Immediately, he keeps her body from curling in on itself so her chest is open and can get air easier. Oscar manages to find a lamp switch. She’s a wreck. So incredibly broken that Lando doesn’t know where to start.

“Breathe.” Is all he can come up with. "It's okay, you can rest. We've got you. Just Breathe."

Somehow he coax’s her to sleep. Him and Oscar combined manage to get her to bed, wrestle her shoes off, and bandage what they could see without removing clothing.

Oscar practically forces Lando into the be with her and he takes the floor. He’d said he’d take the floor with him, but Oscar claimed that Lando is the lighter sleeper and would know if she moved at all. Curse his soulmate and his logical thinking.

She manages to sleep until five in the morning. This time she just cries and huddles closer into Lando.

“I’m sorry you have to see me in such a state… I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

Lando maneuvers then int a sitting position. He then takes a pillow and throw it at his lover on the floor. Oscar stirs and groans.

“Must you.”

“Yes, It’s funny.”

Oscar makes his way up onto the bed and looks immediately like he’s going to fall asleep. Lando consequently throws another pillow at him.

“You should know something…” Lando starts. He doesn’t finish because the word are not doing what he needs them to. They jumble on his head and he can’t figure out where to start.

He’s entirely to grateful for Oscars presence. “Max thinks that the three of us are soulmates.”

Lando was thinking it would be like the first. Realization followed by smiles and laughs. This is not that. Instead it’s panic. She defends into the depths of her mind as she studies the match scars, even revealing her own identical one.

The pain, embarrassment and shame are written all over her features. She’s mumbling through some kind of an apology.

“Breathe.” He repeats. He says it over and over again until it’s all her own mind can hear.

Oscar looks gutted and lost. He’d helped Lando through many panic attacks, but this is completely different.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you. The doctors had tried to cut me off because it was a mistake since there were two. They said I wasn’t supposed to have one.”

Are the two boys shocked? A tad. Why would a doctor do that?

Lando doesn’t get time to ask as she pulls out a bottle of medication from the drawer in the nightstand. It’s stuff he’s heard of, but never actually seen. “This has been suppressed to sever the connection, but it hasn’t worked. They said to take it in higher doses at smaller intervals until it stops.”

She pops open the lid and pours a couple into her hands. Thank goodness for quick reflexes because Lando goes to get the ones in her hands, and Oscar goes for the bottle. She's too focused on Lando to notice the Aussie who manages to swipe it from her.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Didn't feel relevant."

"But this is incredibly dangerous! I've heard most people who do it end up -" Oh. It dawns on him why she's doing this to herself. The connection between them was already rough for her. She had been trying to 'fix' it like her doctors said. Had been told her entire life that the people who are fated to lover her unconditionally won't because she is nothing to them.

"How long have you been taking the meds?" Oscar's voice is so careful. The Brit would love to swoon, but it feels impolite at the moment.

"Years. They've tried everything. Put me on different kinds and change the dosage."

"Thirteen?" Lando whisper asks. His voice was barely audible. The small nod from the female confirms it. That's when the first scars arrived.

Lando places his hands on either side of her teary face. "You are not a mistake. You have never been a mistake. We've been aching for you. Scared maybe one day there wouldn't be any more marks and the implications of it. I've wanted nothing more than to tell you for years that you are loved and wanted."

He didn't even notice his own tears. Everything is just so overwhelming at the moment. They came so unexpectedly that it almost startled him. Screw Oscar and his ability to be amazing emotional support. The hand on Lando's knee is the only thing keeping him grounded.

They don't let her go until Max comes to get her. She's flying to do some filming with him. Neither of the males want to let her go, so they don’t. They end up flying with her since McLaren hasn’t filled their schedules.

But then they don’t leave. They spend every moment possible reminding her she is loved. That they want her. That nothing between them is a mistake.

Soon the scars start to fade.

But have no fear, Lando is clumsy enough to make up for it.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Listen hear me out you're with older eddie and everyone just assumes he's very rough and dominant but really he likes it when you slap his face and spit on him he practically begs for it while you ride him

Oh, I'm listening 😌 ya know anon you sound exactly like one of my besties...suspish🤨

Sub!Older!Eddie munson x fem!reader

I'm so sorry, btw this was also kind of rushed, so I hope you enjoy it. 18+ no minors

You don't know why everyone was a little intimated by your boyfriend. Maybe it was his choice of clothing or music. Maybe it was the faded scar on his eyebrow from a bar fight. Maybe it's because his face always had a scowl, and he never seemed to crack a smile until you're around.

Everyone in town seems to think he's this mean and rough person, but that's the farthest thing from the truth. Eddie's not like what the others would describe him to be. He's soft-spoken, gentle, and incredibly smart.

They also would assume he dominated you in the bedroom as well. You heard the gossip around town, and the little comments made your way as you passed by. Mainly from men with nothing better to do. Truth be told, it's the complete opposite for you both. If they only knew he is practically on his knees every night begging you to degrade him.

Eddie was a dominant person in every aspect of his life except when it came to sex. That's when he let you have complete control and use him, however you wanted. Even if that meant only getting yourself off and leaving him to finish the rest himself.

He loved it when you mock him if cums too early. He wants to be overestimulated to the point where it's becoming painful. He wants you to spit on him and cuff him to his bed. He loved it when you collar him and used your paddle.

At the beginning of the relationship, your sex life was amazing, but you always felt like he wasn't satisfied enough. You could tell he wanted to confess something but was too afraid. Then, one day, he blurted it right out. You didn't know if he meant to say it or if he was just too caught up in the moment.

"Slap me." He grunts out causing you to pause for a moment as you're bounced on his cock. You wondered if you heard him correctly at first until he said it again. His voice came out strained and desperate. His eyes look up into yours, pleading for you to do it.

You hesitated just at first, not knowing how hard you should slap him. You pulled your hand back and gave his cheek a firm light tap. The slap wasn't hard, but it was enough to leave his cheek a little pink.

"Y-yeah, again, just a little harder, baby, please." He bites down on his lower lip and thrusts upwards allowing his cock to hit that sweet spot on your walls. He thrusted up again harder, squeezing your hips tighter when he feels the sting of your hand against his face.

He feels like he could cum right now having you fulfill a fantasy he's kept to himself for so long. A small whimper left his mouth when he felt you clench around him. You both were breathing heavy in eachothers face, mouths parted slightly.

You never thought you would be into something like this. Seeing Eddie a complete mess underneath of made you wish he'd ask to do this much sooner. There was still some guilt on your part. What if you end up hurting him?

"Eddie, I don't want to hurt you." You confessed pausing your movements once more.

"It's okay if it's too much, and I want you to stop. I'll just shout Ozzy or some shit. " He insisted desperately.

You shook your head, "Okay, promise me you will?"

"I promise, sweetheart." He reassured, patting your thighs for you to continue riding him.

He laid back against his pillow with a big grin plastered on his face. You giggle a little as you proceeded to move up and down on his cock. Eddie helped by gripping your hips and lifting you up and back down on his hard length. His fingers dug firmly into your plush skin.

"Fuck, slap me again." He whined.

You tried to gain your composure long enough to do as he asked. His cock hitting deeper inside you making it hard to focus. Your thighs begin to tremble and burn. You pull your hand back again, slapping him right across his cheek. He threw his head to the side, moaning in response as tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

He looks back up at you in awe as you move up and down on his hard length. His cheeks an angry shade of red now. The same cheeks you like to pepper with kisses early in the mornings before work. You can't deny you don't love this. That having him at your complete mercy didn't turn you on more.

It didn't take long before he was cuming deep inside you. As a matter of fact, he had been trying to his best to hold it when you began slapping him the first few times. He ended up cuming before you, which embarrassed him a little.

Eddie felt bad for doing so, especially after you indulged in his secret fantasy. You decided quickly as a punishment to try to make him cum as many times as he could. You wanted him sore but begging you not to stop. You had him filling you up with cum over and over again. Turning him into nothing but a whimpering mess as he came for the fourth time.

After that night, you both quickly moved on from slapping to cuffing him to his headboard. Eddie would asked to be blind folded and gagged while a vibrator was strapped to his cock. He wanted to be called names.

You'd make him cum over and over until he had tears streaming down his face. Until his mind would go all foggy and he couldn't put together a cohesive sentence. His cock being so sore afterwards that even the cool air would cause him to wince a little.

What you both loved to the most was how close this brought the two of you together. You loved taking care of him and washing his hair. Making sure he was okay and if he needed anything. He always just wanted to cuddle afterward. Which you happily obliged every single time until he was softly snoring in your ear.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Hate and love

Hello!

This one is from a request, you still can ask me to write something if you want to :)

I have to say that I'm not really sure about this one, but here it is.

Enjoy ♥

TW : Angst, harassment, divorce, loneliness.

______________________________________________________________

Your arrival in Barcelona at the winter transfer almost a year ago has gone rather well. You quickly bonded with most of the players and you didn’t have any trouble becoming a part of the FC Barcelona family. You maybe wasn't in the Top 3 of the public favorite players, but you don't really mind. You were a bit sad about the departure of some of them this summer, especially Jenni and Ana who were kind of mentors for you during these few months. And even if you continue to exchange news with them, you must admit that it is not the same.

Playing previously in Seville, you already knew quite well some of the players of the team, usually staying on the pitch after the matches to chat a little. You were separated during the World Cup, your national team not being strong enough to pass the qualifications you were in the first to return to training in Barcelona. This did not prevent you from making the trip to Australia to support your friends and obviously the Spanish national team.

You celebrated their victory from the VIP party with friends and family before returning to Barcelona in your daily routine. The world champions have gradually returned to training and you have welcomed new players to the team, always in a good mood.

Everything seems perfect told like that, yet there is something that bothers you since your arrival in Barcelona.

Aitana Bonmati.

She never seemed very happy to see you arrive and you never understood why. At first you said to yourself that she was perhaps afraid that your arrival would cause an imbalance in the group, as can happen sometimes when an element has a too strong personality. Some are afraid of change and you have not asked yourself more questions than that, letting this information slip into a corner of your brain. She wasn’t necessarily part of the small group of girls you trained with regularly anyway since you don’t play in the same spot on the field.

But this summer, you could see that the new arrivals had the right to a big smile and other privileges to which you were not entitled. It’s not really a question of ego, but you don’t understand what you did to her to make her react this way with you. And that's hurt.

You have even noticed with the passing of time that she tends to be rather unpleasant with you, not responding to your hello when you arrive in the locker room for example. It happens to her to roll discreetly her eyes when you speak and you even surprised once Ona throwing her an elbow in the ribs while making the big eyes. It was a relief to see that you were not crazy and that your teammates were taking your side, but it also confirmed what you thought.

And gradually, it plunged you into a kind of constant anxiety, reminding you of some of your traumas during your childhood and adolescence. During which you were often mocked, the girl who preferred to play football rather than dance. Your father always supported you in your choices, unlike your mother, your big brother and your big sister. When they separated you went to live with him and he sacrificed a lot so that you would be where you are today, but you never had the heart to tell him about the harassment you were experiencing at school.

**********

"Can I talk to you?"

Alexia’s voice surprises you while you were focused on the laces of your Converse, making you jump a little. Lost in your thoughts, you were ruminating about the disaster you were during this training. You didn’t put a single ball in the net, you got so distracted that you got a remonstrance from Jona and you almost kill Mapi with a bad pass. Mapi preferred to laugh and quickly came to reassure you by giving you a friendly slap in the back and a hug, to your greatest relief. You would have been horrified to be hated by another of your teammates.

"Sure" you mumble without looking at her.

Alexia’s voice was sweet when she offered to follow her to one of the conference rooms and you complied after picking up your bag and stuff. All the other girls have already returned and the corridors now seem deserted.

When you arrive in the room, you watch Alexia open the blinds slightly as you stand against the wall, very close to the door. You’re anxious and just waiting to be scolded. It often happened like this, teachers taking you aside to say that you weighed on the morale or level of the class. That you had to work on it if you wanted to be accepted and have good results. But no one ever seemed to wonder why you didn’t get along with your classmates. No one ever noticed or understood the harassment you were experiencing. You never mentioned that either, but you would have given ten years of your life for someone to notice. Anyone.

So when Alexia turns to you with an almost maternal expression, it completely disarms you. Her eyes were soft and you can easily detect a form of concern in it.

"You can come closer, I won’t eat you" Alexia gently smiles before sitting on one of the tables, probably to make this conversation less formal.

After hesitating for a second, you settle down in front of her playing nervously with your hair.

"What can I do for you?" you ask, instead of "How are you gonna let me know that I’m gonna heat up the backup bench over the next few weeks?"

"I just wanted to make sure that everything was fine. You seem a little out of place these last few days and it’s starting to worry us. I talked with Jona about it today"

She seems embarrassed to tell you that she told someone else about you without you knowing, making you frown. Your facial expression is probably misunderstood by your captain as she hastens to add

"Don’t take this the wrong way. we’re just worried about you"

"I... I'm fine"

You shrug before biting your lip. You are a bad liar, you know it. And it didn't fool Alexia.

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable with it. But there are other people here who will listen to you with pleasure."

"Don’t worry about me. It was just a time like this, but I’ll be fine"

Because it's what you always did. Figuring and fighting things alone, even if you have now friends who you trust and who you know you can count on.

"You don't have to do that alone, you know"

"Why do you even care?"

You roll your eyes. Sur Alexia is a great captain, and you like her a lot. As a friend of course, but you can't denied that she deserve her title. Like most other girls she is sincerely kind and knows how to distinguish between competition and friendships in the locker room. This is an example for you, as it is for many other girls. And even if she knows all this, she remains modest and does not take the big head. Pretty impressive, in your opinion.

"Is that even a question Y/N?"

Alexia laughs, but it’s a surprise laugh. She seems surprised at the sincerity of your question. And, seeing that you don't answer, she gently shakes her head before answering you.

"Because we care, you're part of this family and even if half of us are totaly crazy, we care for each other. Whatever your problem is, you don't have to figure out alone."

And these sentences, even if it seems to be the most natural thing for Alexia, break down the barriers you have put up until now. You feel tears wet your cheeks without being able to do anything to stop them. As if the dam that you had formed all these years had broken and all the tears that you had retained until today finally decided to come out. And obviously, it bothers you terribly.

You mumble excuses between two sobs, but after more or less calling you an idiot, Alexia breaks the distance between you two to take you in her arms and rock you against her. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but you still stop crying.

So you tell her everything.

The harassment when you were little, from part of your family and the children in your classes. The divorce of your parents which you feel responsible despite everything, this feeling of loneliness that you have since you were born certainly. This feeling of never being fully understood by anyone, until you arrived here. And then you talk about your teammate who reminds you of that, without giving her name. You don’t want to be a problem and Alexia doesn’t ask you to name her. Maybe because she already knows who she is?

The blonde listens to you without saying a word, patiently wiping the tears that continue to roll on your cheeks. When you are silent, exhausted by these confessions and your tears, she speaks again in a calm and soothing voice.

"I’m not going to pretend that I understand you because I was lucky enough to have a family that always supported me. I wouldn’t be here without them, honestly."

The bond between Alexia and her mother, even her sister is know by anyone. You nod, still looking at her.

"But you, you made your way all by yourself. You're only 21 Y/N, you don't realise how strong you are. But being strong doesn't always mean you have to be alone. You have friends here, people who love you and care for you. You are not alone anymore."

With that you smile at her, feeling relieved. As if the weight of all these years were coming off your shoulders. You even feel like you can breathe better. So you thank Alexia, with simple words but you couldn’t explain how much you think about them. As she lays a kiss on your cheek, you put your arms around her neck to hug her and press your words. She gives you your hug back before training you out of the room. Tomorrow is another day and you promise to do better than that.

**********

The rest of the workouts of the week are much better and you decide to completely ignore Aitana. You remain polite nevertheless, but you act as if she's not there. And this seems to annoy her even more but you decided that's not your problem. Many times you feel her look burn your back and you have time to see her black look before she realizes that you are looking at her and she looks away.

But your morale and your game are back to normal and it’s a great relief for you. For Alexia and your coach too, the man simply slips you a short compliment at the end of a session. No need to make tons and that’s enough for you.

The last practice before the next game goes as usual. You do your warm-ups with your fellow defenders, then you are shuffled for courses and drills before a five-player mini-team tournament is organized. You feel a form of anxiety that makes your heart beat when your team is against Aitana, but you decide to focus on the game.

It goes pretty well until you are tackled a little too ferociously by someone from the opposing team. The pain in your ankle and instantaneous and you can’t hold a cry of pain as you collapse to the ground.

"What the fuck Aitana?" Mapi snaps, but you don't really care for now.

The second duel that took place next to you seems to have stopped too, but the tears of pain that fill your eyes prevent you from seeing it for the moment.

"You're ok?"

Irene has knelt beside you and you feel a compassionate hand behind your back. Long black hair obscuring part of the view informs you that it's Ingrid. You answer a simple no with a nod and a few minutes later you are transported to the infirmary. Ona offered to accompany you and you agreed, realizing that you didn't want to be alone.

**********

"Sprain" informs you the nurse and you let yourself go against the file of the infirmary bed on which you are. "It means rest for two weeks."

You pout, but turn your attention to Ona when she places a friendly hand on your arm. You are so used to spending this kind of time alone that you sometimes forget for a few seconds that she is with you. You must be able to easily win the worst friend award.

"At least it’s not the ligaments" Ona said softly.

"You’re right" you sigh.

She gives you a compassionate smile and you assure her that she can take a shower and change. You still have the prescription to wait and the nurse must come back with your brace and crutches. After making sure you weren’t going to go home with an Uber but with her and Lucy, she eventually left the room. She even offers to inform the rest of the team of your injury and you accept willingly, not wanting to go to put a show there downstairs.

A few minutes pass and you always wait when someone knocks on the door.

"I still haven’t finished Ona, but you can come in."

Except that it is not Ona who enters, but Aitana. The look fixed on her shoes and the air of someone who goes to the torture room. And this time, the anger you had not yet felt takes hold of you.

"I came to apologize" Aitana mumbles without turning her eyes towards you.

"Well, it's done" you answer coldly, turning your back on her.

You don’t want to look at her. You’re mad at her, at her behavior. That she doesn’t like you is one thing, but that she makes you unable to play for two weeks is another.

"It wasn't voluntary"

You hold a sarcastic laugh and slowly shake your head.

"Ok."

Aitana seems surprised at your reaction, but you don’t care. It's true that usually you are more the one who flees the conflict and who prefers to go with the idea of the person in front of you to please her. She stands there and it annoys you. So you suddenly turn your head in her direction and you talk to her dryly.

"All right, you can go now. Just leave me alone."

The tone of your voice seems to make her react since she frowns and steps in your direction.

"Don’t talk to me like that."

You feel your heart racing, you have never been very good at dealing with disputes and emotions. Until now you had managed to buried them deep inside when they became too powerful but it seems that since your confessions to Alexia you are no longer able to do so. She says it’s a pretty good things, but you're not really sure about that.

"Don’t tell me how to talk to you when you’ve been treating me like shit since I got here, Aitana."

Aitana is stunned. She never saw you angry and expected you to accept her apology so that she could get out of this room as quickly as she got in. Her lost look irritates you a little more, she knew very well what she was doing by behaving as she did since the beginning. And you gradually realized that you didn’t deserve this.

"Who made you come here? Mapi, Alexia, Jonatan?"

She blushs and it's enough for you to understand that you are right. If she had the choice, she would never had been here, begging for your forgiveness.

"Get out" you groan, turning your back at her once again.

She didn't and you sigh before getting up as you can. It may not be the most graceful way to do it and it may take some drama off the stage, but you don't care.

"I said get out" you say, raising your voice now. "You don't want to be here and I don't want you here."

But she’s still not moving and your patience is coming to an end. From now on there is nothing else that separates you, except the bed on which you were lying a few moments ago. The nurse still hasn’t come back, but this might be the time to do it please.

"I- " began Aitana, without saying anything more.

"What do you want? Two weeks without me aren't enough? Want to break my other leg too?"

The frustration you feel about not understanding Aitana’s reaction and behavior may be pushing you a little to say things you never had the courage to say before. But it was less positive to return the floor to your interlocutor, whose face and eyes finally come alive again.

"I told you I didn't mean it" she half-screams and you snort. "Maybe I was wrong for acting with you like I did but..."

"Maybe?!" you interrupt her coldly.

"You made my life a living hell! You came here with your damn smile and skills and all my life fell appart!" Aitana is clearly shooting now and you blink, surprised by her rage. "I was in an healthy relationship, happy in my life and with this team. And you came along and everything fell apart! I am straight ok, I am so fucking straight but all I can think about all the time is you! I hate you for the way you make me feel but I'm not fucking able to change it even if I tried since you are here"

It is your turn to remain silent, your brain analyzing each of the words that she just said. And all this has absolutely no meaning for you, except the part where she confesses her hatred to you perhaps. Aitana’s breathing is fast and noisy, you can’t tell if it’s that or your screams that didn’t allow you to realize that you were no longer alone in the room.

"Hmm."

You look over Aitana’s shoulder and you realize that Ona has returned to the room with Lucy holding your crutches and a sheet of paper while she herself carry your bag.

"Maybe it’s time to go home"

Lucy’s perfectly expressionless face keeps you from knowing how long she’s been here. Two steps behind her, Ona makes her look between you and Aitana without saying anything. You nod and pass in front of Aitana with a limp, Ona reacting by breaking the last meters to help you take your crutches in hand.

You follow them silently to Lucy’s car and after some arguments with Ona you finally agree to sit in the passenger seat. By taking your phone out of your pocket, you realize that you have received some messages from your teammates wishing you a good recovery. And you quickly understand that they have created a tournus between them so that you are not alone at home. There will apparently be only during the trip next weekend where you will not have peace. But it makes you smile and a little forget what just happened.

"You want to eat with us tonight?" Lucy asks.

"Nah I'm good thank you. I usually watch some crap TV show on friday night."

You see Lucy peeking at you to make sure you’re not playing superhero and you feel the way she’s measuring you. You look up and sigh.

"I assure you it’s okay. Enjoy your Friday night, I’ll probably go to bed early anyway."

This time it's Ona that Lucy looks through the rearview mirror but neither of them insists, to your relief. Being alone doesn't bother you. Once at home, Ona helps you get out of the vehicle and before she can open her mouth, you speak again.

"I promise, i'm fine Ona."

"All right. I’ll leave you alone on the condition that you swear on your cat’s head that you will write me if you're not okay."

"Leave the poor cat alone" you joke, making her smile. "I promise."

**********

The doorbell on your front door makes you frown. You’re sitting on your couch, a blanket on your legs and your cat on your stomach. Your sprain is better, it must be said that after a week and a half of rest it would be dramatic that this is not the case. You have resumed muscle training, but it is obviously out of the question that you start running again for now. You can now move without your crutches and it was a great relief to be able to get rid of them. Your ankle is still carefully immobilized but you are now doing quite well.

Salma left your apartment half an hour ago, and you’re supposed to stop receiving visitors. Your father phones you every day and hasn’t done it yet, but he has no reason to show up here unannounced. That’s really not his style.

The bell rings again, waking up your cat who is rustling a little before going to eat croquettes in the kitchen. So you get up from the couch and go to the door, opening it without removing the safety chain to see who it is. And almost immediately you close the door, but the fingers of Aitana who slip into the opening prevent you to do so.

"Don’t make me break your fingers"

"Just let me in"

"No? What the hell"

"Y/N, please…"

The despair of her voice makes you flinch and you press your forehead against the door. You’re too sensitive to people’s distress to leave someone with that feeling. Even if it was Aitana herself who put you in this emotion there a few weeks ago. You sigh and, already regretting your gesture, you open the door to let her in. You avoid looking at her when she enters your home, closing the door behind her.

"You have a cat?"

You refrain from pointing out that if she had been interested in you instead of making you regret your arrival, she would know. If you don’t talk about your cat several times during the day, there is a problem.

"How do you know where I live?"

Aitana stop looking at your cat who spread out on your plaid to turn to you. With your arms crossed, you wait for his answer with a certain hint of curiosity. Aitana has never set foot in your house and if you are not mistaken, she does not really live in the neighborhood.

"I asked Irene"

She shrugs and you signal her to settle down on the couch. You go back to your place, gently pushing your cat to be a little more comfortable. With a simple look he made you understand that you're annoying, making you smile gently. You caress him to apologize as he stretches, rolls into a ball and closes his eyes.

"I came to apologize"

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Aitana looks at you with the same suspicion as if she had been the last piece of meat in the middle of a horde of hungry lions.

"I’ve already heard that before" you answer by arching an eyebrow

"I know. But I just... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, really. My problems shouldn’t have affected you. I should have handled things differently, but I was confuse and scared."

She looks sincere and does not look away when you judge her with yours. Next to you your cat stretches lazily before turning around on the other side and continuing his nap.

"Ok. Apologizes accepted"

She looks at you so long it makes you uncomfortable. You have never been in her presence for so long and you find yourself nervously wrapping your hair around your finger.

"If I could, I would do things differently, you know? I understand it’s out of the question that something is happening between us now, but I would like to start all over again. Get to know you, possibly offer you a date and then two if things go well."

You’re slowly biting your lip looking at her. You’d be lying if you said that the words she said in the infirmary didn’t mark you. You were far from imagining that the reason for his behavior was related to an attraction to you. You think it’s pretty toxic, but you like to think people deserve a second chance. After biting your lip, you bend over and reach out to her.

"Well... Hi. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

[facioleeknow]

Risky gift ° Lee Minho+Bang Chan

You decide to misbehave and your boyfriends have to punish you to teach you a lesson ;)

Wc: 1245 Genre: smut 18+ ONLY, college AU

Tw: professor's assistants chan and minho, oral, deepthroathing, voyeurism, cum eating, masturbation, hard dom minho, soft dom chan, name calling, spitting

Part of my valentine's day collab!

Minho’s lips were hot on yours. His kisses were hungry, he wanted to consume you whole, he wanted to take you down and then build you back up. His hands raked your body feverishly. He was always like that, impatient and harsh while your other lover was the complete opposite, slow and sweet.

“Minho, we’re in the middle of the hallway, we can’t do this here,” you whispered to him, afraid that somebody might catch you. Minho just sighed and parted from you, his heat leaving your body.

“Let’s go,” his tone was harsh, feigning annoyance but his grasp on your wrist was gentle. You knew better than to think he was actually annoyed, he knew that making out in the middle of the hallway during class hours was risky and he would never expose you to that; sure he might’ve teased you about it but only to rile you up, nothing more nothing less.

Minho led you through the hallways of your college with purpose, he knew where he could go to avoid being disturbed. His study was his sacred place and something that came with being a PA. His hand twisted the knob and then closed the door roughly, without sparing a glance to the other guy in the room.

“Hey, baby,” Chan greeted you with a sweet smile and swiftly got up to plant a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hey Channie,” you shivered at his touch. Your arousal was starting to coat the inner part of your thighs, going paintieless might’ve been a bad idea. Minho scoffed at the interaction.

“You don’t deserve that treatment, whore.”

“What did she do this  time,” Chan sighed at  the younger boy, his hands rubbing your back in soothing circles. Channie was always sweet.

“Show him, slut, get on the desk and spread your legs,” Minho’s tone was harsh and youo looked at Chan for comfort.

“Go on,” he gently reassured you. Your lower lip wobbled and you pouted at the treatment one of the boys reserved for you, but the wetness in between your legs told a whole other story.

You slowly sat on the desk and brought your legs to your chest. Normally every command would’ve been met with a swift reaction from you but you already misbehaved that day so why not go all out.

“I don’t have all day,” Minho’s aura was menacing, you knew he didn’t like misbehaving.

“Baby, do as Minho says, okay?” Chan’s tone was gentle as usual.

With your hands planted behind you for support, you slowly opened your legs to expose your glistening bare cunt, your skirt pooled at your hips. Chan sharply hissed at the sighed, his big warm hand landed delicately on your calf.

“No panties, baby?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He liked when you were daring. 

“It’s your valentine’s day present,” you felt hot and excited as the two boys eyed you like you were dessert.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” he looked at the other boy with a raised brow. At the same time his hand moved from your calf to your knee, his thumb circled your smooth skin.

“Was spreading your legs during class and showing me your pussy in front of everyone also a part of the present?” he stepped dangerously close to you and gripped forcefully your other knee, a stark contrast compared to Chan, “ did you forget that this is only ours to look at?” 

Minho landed a harsh slap on your outer thigh and you whimpered.

“Is that true, baby?” Chan’s demeanor had changed but he was definitely less scary than Minho.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry baby, but this time I can’t defend you,” he let go of your knee and took a seat at his usual armchair, “punish her how you see fit, I’ll watch this time,” he talked to the other boy in the room.

Minho shot one of the most fiery and intimidating looks you had ever seen on him. His hand lifted and came in contact with your pussy delicately. His index and middle finger swiped slowly through your fold and played with your wetness. A small whimper escaped you, your eyes closed in an attempt to savor the small pleasure he was giving you. A harsh slap landed on your cunt.

“Get down and on your knees, slut.” He clearly wasn’t asking you and you struggled to get down from the desk without crumpling all of the documents on it.

Minho looked even more breathtaking when you were on your knees, you had never found an angle from which he looked ugly. Your boyfriend fumbled with his zipper and then took out his hard cock. Your mouth watered.

“Do you know what to do to stop?”

“Three taps on your right thigh,” you nodded. His hand carded through your hair. What seemed a sweet gesture quickly changed when he fisted your hair and pulled your hair. 

“Mouth open.”

He gathered the saliva in his mouth and harshly spat out. His warm spit slowly trickled down your tongue. A moan slipped your lips at his harsh actions, but you didn’t have time to beg for more because Minho shoved his dick in your mouth. You whined.

He felt heavy on your tongue, his taste intoxicating. The tip of his thick cock pressed at the back of your throat, your teary eyes on Minho.

“You should see her right now, hyung, she looks just like the whore she is,” he spoke to the other guy in the room calmly, like his dick wasn’t down your throat.

“Oh I can see her don’t worry,” Chan’s voice sounded strained.

“Eyes on him whore while I fuck your mouth or you don’t get to cum for a week.”

You looked at Chan. The sight in front of you made you whine and clench in need; your other boyfriend had his pants and underwear shoved down and slowly fisted his cock. As soon as you made eye contact with Chan, Minho began to fuck your throat, setting a brutal pace. You did your best to help send him over the edge and tightened your throat around his big cock. A moan escaped Minho’s lips, his facade slipping for a second.

Chan on the other hand was still leisurely stroking his cock, he clearly had no intention of cumming so quickly but he was enjoying the view. You raked your eyes over his body, he looked like an ancient adonis. He was spectacular.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Can you make him cum?” asked Chan, his hand picked up the pace slightly. You hummed in agreement, the vibrations sending sparks up and down Minho’s cock. Your tongue started swiping the underside of his cock slowly.

“You’re good at this slut,” Minho grunted, his head thrown back and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. You moaned again, pleased with his reaction.

“God, I’m gonna cum, be good and swallow it all.”

Minho pushed his dick to the very back of your throat, your nose brushed his pelvis. Hot ropes shot down your throat while Minho moaned and pulled your hair tighter in his fist. Your hands made contact with his thigh to help you stand up.

“Stop.” You froze at the command.

“Stay like this and keep my cock in your mouth for the rest of the day, if you want to act like a whore then you should be treated like one.”

[nyimasu]

CONTENT WARNING! — eyes wide shut au, orgy, unprotected sex, voyeurism, pet names (love, sugar, baby), reader and geto have tattoos and you're a bit shy at first, praises, hair pulling, poly dynamics with gojo (what's new), lingerie kink, biting, secret pining, slight corruption kink, fingering, oral (reader receiving), cum eating, double penetration, all three of you get unhinged towards the end and break the orgy grandmaster's rules / WORD COUNT — 5.5k (pure brainrot)

ANYA'S CORNER — aesthetical hedonism to its finest, this work has been clearly inspired by stanley kubrick's last masterpiece, "eyes wide shut". also big shoutout to my love, @nagumoan for helping me throughout the various phases I had to come up with to finish this lmao love you dearly, loni!

P.S. : this fic is not proofread but I still hope you enjoy it! see you soon 🦋

REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!

“What’s on your mind, Suguru?”

When you ask Suguru to do something different tonight, you realize your words backfire immediately because your dark-haired partner scoots closer to you on the sofa, his pupils dilating when you press a kiss to his lower lip. Then you wait for his response.

But the man is thinking so hard about your implicit request that his mind drifts away. Your sultry laugh brings him back to reality, though.

The man chuckles, amused by the hint of confusion in your question. "Nothing too wicked or extreme, my love. But what I have in mind for us might require you to get out of your comfort zone for a while. Are you still okay with it?"

You nod without hesitation, and your hand on his thigh brings Geto to smile, luring you closer to kiss you. Always so respectful and caring, your lover.

So, a couple of conceited phone calls from his part and a quick run to your wardrobe later, here you are, waiting in front of a wooden door to open to a villa— no, to a mansion probably built in the 19th century.

Tonight it’s shrouded in darkness and lush nuances of deep green, probably trees caressed by the capricious hand of the wind.

What a perfect night to find beauty and grace in you again, Geto thinks to himself. His eyes brim with mischief, his lips stretched in a smile under the white and golden mask he has on, while your gaze reflects the stardust coating the sky.

You are clothed in nothing more than a Venetian mask, a black coat, silvery high heels, and a set of lace lingerie your boyfriend is really fond of.

The aforementioned has your arm linked with his, and you both look at each other when the gates creak open.

Oblivious to his thoughts, you look up at him, and Suguru tilts his head towards the other masked couples before you.

“Let me introduce you to a whole new world. You haven’t seen anything like this before, not even in your wildest dreams. Come with me, love.”

Curious, you follow the rest of the guests and enter into the perfectly curated garden preceding the main body of the mansion, which soon welcomes you all with a cascade of candles covering every inch of the walls, starting from the corridor.  

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I wouldn’t even think of putting you in harm’s way if I wasn’t sure you were going to be alright. You’re safe with me.”

You search for Geto’s eyes for reassurance, and he feels your gaze on him. He squeezes your hand oh-so lightly first, then stops right before you walk past the living room’s frame door.

The noise in the background doesn’t act as a distraction to either of you, so your partner simply shifts his grip from your arm to your lower back while he puts you at ease by saying:

“I know, of course. I’m not questioning that.” you reply right away, fidgeting with some of the rings of his dominant hand, the one wrapped around your waist.

Then you step forward to take in the smell of fresh flowers, tobacco, and other scents in the living room.  The staccato pace your heels set as you walk around to look at the candleholders scattered across the immense living room goes unnoticed, but not the swirls of ink on your body when the cloak slips to the side to reveal the tiniest sliver of skin.

“It’s just that this,” you punctuate the last word with a sigh, pointing at the opulence surrounding you. “I’m a bit intimidated by all of this. Everything screams expensive. I mean, look at these chandeliers! They’re magnificent, and I can bet my entire lingerie drawer that they're gold. Like, gold gold. Whoever owns the place is filthy rich.”

Now, that catches the attention of some of the guests, but you pass by them without noticing their stares on you. But your partner does, and he’s not the only one.

Your eyes are set on him only as you make your way back to Geto once more. Once you’re within reach, you feel his hand snaking up the cloak’s slit, and you giggle at the feeling of his feather-like touches on your thigh.

Do not get distracted, you reprimand yourself and gently take Suguru’s hand in yours to finish your sentence.

A muffled smirk follows your theory, probably because someone has made their presence known behind you. Alarmed, you turn and stare at the stranger. Somehow, the way they carry themselves is familiar to you, as if you’ve already met this person before.

And they’re tall.

Like, really tall.

On second thought, even their way of speaking sounds too much like the one used by another person you practically see every day.  

“Oh, sugar. Is this a legitimate bet? You know, I would love to have all your panties and bras in my bedroom. And to answer your question: yes, they’re gold gold. I’ve personally commissioned them to be made by the finest Italian craftsmen alive. They’re gorgeous, aren’t they?”

Before you can speak your mind, however, the masked person in front of you stops laughing after taking a look at your and Suguru’s intertwined hands; when they do, the stranger leans against the wall, an inch away from another candleholder. “Cuties.”

He only speaks that way with you and his closest friends.

Geto scoffs, his walk steady as he takes his place next to you. His arm links with yours again before shifting attention to the stranger.

Well, you two are not such strangers to them after all, because the lightness in your lover’s voice when he answers the stranger rings a bell.

“Do not change the subject, you freak. So, panties and bras, huh? You’ve never told me about this peculiarity of yours before. You want to wear, sniff, or jerk off with it?”

The masked one laughs again, this time while they clasp one hand around Geto’s forearm. It's big, all spidery fingers and gorgeous veins standing proud against their porcelain-like skin as the figure adjusts the cloak around their broad shoulders.

Girl, get a grip on yourself.

Shaking your head to push your horniness into a corner of your mind, you come to realize that you know them, and they seem to be quite intimate with you and Geto as well.

God, you have their name on the tip of your tongue, but it escapes you the moment you look at their attire. All your focus goes to their shiny patent leather shoes, and then up to their cloak.

Strangely enough, their robe is not pitch-black like yours. It's magenta-hued. And the mask? Oh, it’s almost as if it’s been dipped into liquid gold because the shimmer of it is just too bright and too real to be fake.

“Ah, Suguru. I would rather not say. A man keeps his secret stash of the finest food close to his chest. You of all people should know it, considering you keep the most delicious Zunda a breadth away from you.”

The stranger’s hood is down, and your eyes land on pure snow-white hair framed by the mask. But then, the person shifts closer to you and Suguru, and the lights shine on their entire figure. 

On their inhumane eyes.

Also, no one calls you “delicious Zunda” but him, a man with a terrible sweet tooth who happens to devour every single sweetery he finds in your house whenever he swings by to see his best friend.

No way.

Baffled, you sharply exhale and whisper: "You've got to be kidding me.”

The relationship between you and Geto is exclusive. Nevertheless, you both agreed to expand your horizons when the time and people involved felt right. And Suguru thinks tonight might be the night. Jealousy never pertained to him, especially when it comes to you.

You shove a hand under the person’s mask and lift it up by the chin. Behind the mask, there’s a pair of bright, light blue eyes staring right back at you, while plump lips curled in a shit-eating grin match Suguru’s hidden delight.

He let you take off his best friend’s mask because your lover knows that, deep down, you and the other man have some sexual tension you both need to work through.

You’ve never admitted it out loud, partially because you don’t want to hurt Suguru, but you’ve always found Gojo attractive, and the white-haired man has been doting on you ever since you and Geto started to date five years ago.

You’re so deeply in love with him —and he with you—that to have a stranger come between you is unthinkable. But a man Geto trusts with his life?

That’s another story.

He does feel, however, that the spark between you and his best friend is ready to ignite.

 “Gojo Satoru. I was hoping to spare myself the sight of your ugly face tonight; that’s why I asked Suguru to go out. But I didn’t think he would take me to your fucking place.”

Gojo stoops closer, his eyes boring holes in your face as he bends his knees to meet your fuming gaze. It brings him immense joy to see you in distress because of him, and you hate when either he or Geto get to your eye level. It makes you feel smaller, and you are already much shorter than them. Ugh.

If looks could kill, he’d be in a pool of blood at your feet by now.

My guests?

“Aw, is my little dove bothered by my presence? You didn’t tell her everything, did you, Suguru? Because if you did, she wouldn’t have come to us this easily. Well, enjoy your last moments of tranquillity while I help the rest of my guests get comfortable.”

The air whistles as Satoru puts on his mask again and walks towards the centre of the living room, his cloak floating behind him, akin to a king’s. And somewhat, he really is of royal blood, considering he’s one of the richest and most influential member of the Gojo clan.

Upon his arrival, the others wandering in the living room halt on the spot, and so does their chit-chat. The silence following Gojo’s entrance makes your blood evaporate.

What did you just walk yourself into?

“Before we start, I’d like to repeat some ground rules some of you may not be aware of.”

“Greetings, dear guests of mine. Thank you for coming to my abode. So, as you can see, I’ll be your grandmaster tonight.” he points at his golden mask and red cloak before continuing.

Contrary to your partner, modesty really isn’t Gojo’s strongest suit.

That last bit is directed at you, and you fight the instinct to give him the finger.

The snow-haired man raises a hand and puts down his thumb. “Rule number one: we never take off our masks. It’s mandatory, for it helps us conceal our identities. No one must try to pry out information about others. Whoever breaks this important rule will be kicked out.”

He’s going to drive you insane alongside Suguru, you can feel it in your bones. What are you saying? No need to fool yourself by feigning ignorance, at this point.

They always do.

Everyone nods to his words, and you roll your eyes, much to Geto’s amusement. Well, you have broken that rule, already.

“There’s no number limit of participants in the encounters, but I do warn you: I will be keeping an eye on each and every single one of you, so don’t do anything that will prevent the other parties involved to enjoy themselves. If you dare to do anything against your partners’ desires or act without explicit consent, you will be taken and kicked out.

His index finger is the second one to curl. “Rule number two: everyone keeps their cloaks on until I say so. As grandmaster of the evening, I have the right to decide whenever the fun begins,”

His eyes beam with unhidden delight under the golden mask, enhancing the ethereal hue, and they’re so breathtaking to look at that a few women close to him audibly gasp.

Have I been clear?”

A collective ‘yes’ follows the second rule, and you are beginning to understand this is not your normal Friday night. Once again, you look at Suguru, and he leans over you to hear you whisper,

“You brought me to an orgy.”

He sighs, ready to get you both out of here if he hears even the slightest amount of doubt in your voice. His voice is feeble when he asks: “Will you stay?”

You don’t respond right away, rather you rest your head against his shoulder as Gojo declares the third and final rule of the evening. He’s watching you and Geto like a hawk as his voice reaches everyone in the room, and the snarly remarks after he’s done confirms your hunch.

“Rule number three: as your grandmaster, I have the right to accept or deny your requests to partake in your liaisons. You cannot, however, refuse me. Especially you two.”

Your whole body freezes, and so does Suguru.

Gojo is pointing at you and your partner from across the room and, useless to say, many eyes are on the both of you as Satoru concludes his speech.

“The Sun Dragon and the Moon Lover are mine. No one will have them but me.”

Your spirit is on fire, enraged by Satoru’s claim, and when you finally answer Suguru, you work your jaw so hard that your muscles start to protest.

“I will stay. I want to smash his head against the wall. I hate him.”

Suguru kisses your hair. “You’re so bloodthirsty, my love, but no, you don’t hate him. In fact, I think you fancy him enough you might give yourself up to him tonight.”

“What are you talking abo-”

“Tsk-tsk”, he tuts. “Your mind and body hold no secrets to me. I know you better than you know yourself. Promise me this.”

He lifts his mask enough to let his lips rest in the crook of your exposed neck, right where your vein quivers under his touch.

“Smother him the same way you do with me. He's as crazy about you as you are of him and me. Do not hold back.”

“Go, my guests. Search for beauty and grace.”

An hour has gone by since the orgy officially started and apparently, Gojo isn’t the only person you know at the party/orgy.

And your surprise knows no limits as you walk by yet another room, and a glimpse of sandy hair tells you the man who’s pounding a very pleased girl is someone you’re acquainted with.

Turns out that some of the guests are close friends of yours, as well. You can’t see their faces, of course, but their movements and voices are unmistakable, including the ones of a man you never thought you’d see there.

The same could be said about you, since you’re not the typical regular at orgiastic festivals.

“My love.” Geto gently urges you to stay quiet, because the others guests are watching you and who you know for sure to be Nanami Kento stare at each other while his hips stutter and his deep voice bounces off the walls in a long, “Fuck”.

Sensing your eyes on him, the man cocks his head towards you and the girl beneath him mewls in need.

Oh, my God.

His partner’s pathetic attempts to gain his attention fail again and you eventually walk away from the scene with Suguru by your side. You and your friend will have time to catch up later.

For now, you just need to get through the night in one piece.

Many guests keep staring at you and Geto, mainly because of the tattoos both of you display with such ease. Out of everyone, you and him are the most tattooed people in the mansion.

Suguru’s white dragon on his back and right arm compliments the black snakes wrapped around your thighs and part of the hips while the argent, celestial constellations starting from the base of your neck then falling onto the forearms like shooting stars balances out the vivid streaks of fiery dahlias that bloom across the entirety of Geto’s left arm.

The moment they come too close, the grandmaster is already there to confront them, sneaking an arm around your bare waist, or by standing so close to Suguru that the teeth of jealousy sink into your flesh over and over again.

Together, you make one hell of an attractive couple, and because of this, a couple of men and a woman tried to approach you and Geto.

All to no avail.

First, he called dibs on you and Geto. Then he chickens out, leaving your mental sanity to hang by a thread.

“It seems you’ve forgotten what I said earlier. They’re mine. Find someone else to have fun with”, and the moment the guests disappear, so does Gojo.

Now that your most sordid desires have been discovered by your lover— and the man still wants you despite everything, for God’s sake—, you’re just waiting for him to act upon his demand. Will you keep pouting like a little girl when he leaves over and over again?

No fucking way. Time to take the matter ibto your own hands.

“Suguru.”

The man whips his head around to look at you. You often call him by his first name, but not with that sultry tone. When you do, it is always for one reason only.

To edge and tease him is your biggest delight, and the tent in his tuxedo pants is already painfully tight around his girth when he replies, “Yes?”

“There’s something we should do.” the sentence tumbles off your lips slowly, every syllable dragging into the other when you finally reach the east wing of the mansion, right beside a huge pool table. Geto is unsure if you realised it, but you’ve been following around Gojo the entire night, and now you’re a few metres away from him.

The orgy grandmaster in the middle of a conversation with a brunette and her rather bulky companion, and your heart stops. The two guests are Shoko Ieiri and Fushiguro Toji.

To say you’re wet would be an understatement.

Goddammit, how many of our friends come to these orgies?

You quickly set aside the question. You’ll deal with everyone else later, for your mind is set on the goal at hand. Also, to think that they’re about to witness what you’re about to do has you squeeze your thighs together as something warm leaks through you.

Geto doesn’t miss a single beat and comes closer to you, his taut chest colliding with yours as his height consumes the air around him. Any sense of shyness or shame is long gone from your body, so you rest your back against the pool table like a languid cat when a sudden gasp leaves your lips.

“We have something to do, you say. What is it, my love?”, Suguru taunts under his breath. His gorgeous fingers are stroking the damp spot at the front of your panties while his thumb flicks patterns around your clothed clit.

“Go on. I want to hear you say it.”  

Good. The almighty Gojo Satoru is not as detached as he prides himself to be.

Without warning, his other hand flies to your hair. The pin that holds it slips off and vanishes in Geto’s pocket, and your strands fall around your face. You stare at him, until he turns to glare at Gojo.

You follow his lead, and you both find the grandmaster with his arms crossed on the chest, laboured breath and foot tapping furiously against the marble floor.

“Fuck me on this pool table while everyone’s watching. Come on, I know it’s to die for.” you say that so nonchalantly that Suguru falters, taken aback, while a low grunt rumbles in Gojo’s throat. He’s close enough to hear you purr such lewd words just fine.

Little do they know, the request is aimed at them both.

The room has fallen silent, Shoko and Toji as amazed as the rest of the guests, but the first to break the ice is the grandmaster himself. He’s regained some self-composure by the time he sidles up to Geto, but you’re one step ahead.

Lost in the haze of lust, they don’t notice you’ve hopped onto the pool table until you press a heel onto Suguru’s crotch, the other on Gojo’s. They both snap back to reality at the feeling, and you giggle when they get harder under the stilettos.

“Shit. You’re soaking wet, love. You’re clenching around the fucking air.”

“You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?” you let go of their groins to spread your legs further on the table. Suguru is the first to grab your thigh, rings digging into the flesh while Gojo’s hand brushes against the other, his approach softer but needy all the same.

Veins pop out of their hands as they both keep you in place, and Satoru glances at you for consent, to make sure you’re fine with him touching you. You nod, then you throw back your head the moment Geto pushes aside your panties with two fingers. He yanks at your roots and you moan as a string of curses at the sight of your puffy cunt echoes between you three.

“B-both.” talking is getting harder by the second, and despite the mask, you can still feel Satoru’s breath fanning on your wet folds. The slit where the mouth is channels the warm air, so you’re really fucked.

“Let me see,” Satoru falls to his knees to take a good look at your pussy, to feel his mouth water with each bead of arousal escaping you, your muscles clamping to have some kind of relief no one can give you but them.

He gulps and whistles to try to ignore how hard he’s got in seconds. “What a sight. So drenched and ready to be filled, uhm? Is this for me, sugar? Or Suguru?”

The mask is definitely not helping.

“What do you want us to do? Use your words.” Suguru coats index and middle finger in your juices and gently prods at your entrance, so ready to pull him in, and they both wait patiently for you to speak.

“Don’t stop. Your fingers-”, your eyes roll back as you lift your hips up to motion for Geto to continue. “I need them in me. Please.”

He obliges with a sigh, because he loves to finger you as much as you adore to sense his fingertips poking your insides.

Your partner buries two fingers in you altogether and you nearly lurch backward at the intrusion, but Satoru is quick to ground your hips on the pool table with his other hand as Suguru starts to massage your inner walls, curling and scissoring his digits apart. 

They both have such nice hands, your mind is spiralling into an endless vortex. But before you can do so, a tap on your thigh brings you to look down.

Satoru is waiting for you.

Power must have gotten to your head, it has to, because your fingers yank down his hood to glide among his pure, soft hair as you breathe out:

“Your mouth, Satoru. Y-your tongue. I want everything.”

Then you remember. No one is allowed to take off their masks, not even the grandmaster.

“I’ve been waiting for so long for this”, Gojo whispers to you, eyes skittering all over your lower abdomen and breasts. Too bad he can’t see your face. “You taste so fucking good.”

A gentle kiss close to your knee shakes you to the core.

Eyes widening in surprise, you ogle shamelessly at Gojo, at his mask slightly tilted up only for his lips to be free of any hindrance. You have no time to react because they immediately latch onto your lower lips, taking half of your pussy in his mouth with a satisfied growl.

Suguru has shifted his attention on your bundle of nerves, focusing on it to let Gojo devour the rest of you.

If it wasn't for the mask, both men would see how much their ministrations are affecting you, but fret not. Your body is showing them plenty to compensate.

Geto laughs and his hand still in your hair descends to your tits. He circles, pinches your nipples through the lace, mimicking the same motion on your clit — you won’t last long, not when he’s hitting all the right spots and his best friend is eating you out the way you like it in front of a bunch of people.

Geto has shared intimate tips on how to pleasure you, and Gojo is following them by the book. Those two had agreed on doing this way before tonight.

How does he know- Oh. Oh.

And you do so with a shared moan from you and them, because you rest your head against Suguru’s chest while your eyes fix on Gojo.

Suddenly all too self-aware of everything, you try to back down from the men, but they both hold you in place. The coil in your stomach tightens even more when Geto’s hoarse voice reaches you.

“Look at us.”

And at that moment, you see Suguru’s inked arm coming between you and the grandmaster, more specifically his hand. It rests on Satoru’s nape and pushes his face into your cunt, almost as if he wants to suffocate him between your legs, but the snow-haired man chuckles at that and tongues your entrance straight away.

The pace set allows him to nose your clit, but when he draws back it's Geto's turn to circle it with his thumb. You can’t escape them.

They’re both right.

“That’s so hot.” you hear someone say, probably Toji.

“It’s too much.” adds Shoko.

“Too fast”, you don’t even know who you’re talking to at this point and you raise yourself on your elbows, back arched on its own. Even the heat emanating from Geto is too much, and you do babble something along the lines of, “N-no, ’s too much. I can’t-”

Satoru stops briefly to kiss your inner thigh, his and Geto’s heart-shaped eyes tunnelling on your heaving chest. Your cleavage is sticky with sweat and Suguru plants his forehead against it as Gojo growls.

“You can.”

And the orgasm comes quicker than expected. The coil cracks, your legs try to snap shut around Satoru’s head but Geto helps him to keep them open as you come with a strangled sob. Breath stuck in your lungs, you feel Suguru come closer to let you moan on his collarbone.

Pleasure clouds your mind as Gojo runs his tongue through your folds to lap up your release and you protest meekly, on the edge of overstimulation.

Gojo wails, keens at your feet when you pull his hair while your inner walls clench around his wet muscle, but he catches on quickly and wets three of his long fingers with your juices as you still fuck yourself on his tongue. Suguru helps you ride through the orgasm, caressing every sliver of your skin he can reach.

“Ssh, that's it, love. Come on his tongue. Look at how needy he is to please you. Give him every droplet of you.” is what cuts through the noise in your ears.

Tears have pooled under your eyes yet you don’t give in to them, rather your hands find harbour in both men’s locks as the last moments of blissful release wash over you.

“Thank you.” you say, voice veiled with a bit of tiredness. Geto strokes you gently around the neck and Satoru pecks you on the leg affectionately before pulling away to allow you and your lover to gawk at him and his fingers, slick with your cum, and he licks them clean with a low whimper.

It’s so painful, the wanton need you have to kiss them both after they gave you a bone-shattering orgasm. But you can’t.

Not here, not now.

Your eyes flash black, pupils dilating beyond normal sense. Suddenly you’re not so spent, anymore. And neither are they.

Suguru doesn’t need to be told twice. You’re still a tiny bit out of it, but suddenly you’re in Geto’s arms, and he’s walking so fast amongst the little crowd that had gathered around you that you almost miss Shoko and Toji. With whatever strength you have left, you simply yell:

Satoru grabs his best friend by the tuxedo’s collar and he grunts, out of breath: “My room. Now.”

Toji’s deep chuckles rattle against your bones, and you hear faintly the grandmaster encouraging his guests to enjoy themselves while he’s gone, because he needs to “step back for a while”.

“Guys, we need to talk. My place, tomorrow morning. Bring the mimosa!”

Since he’s spent uncountable days there, it doesn’t take long for Suguru to get to his best friend’s suite. You’ve completely recovered by now, still you wait until your partner has laid you down on the queen-sized bed before acting.

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

Once within arm’s reach, Suguru lets out a snort when your arms circle his waist and you push him on the bed. Now he’s on his back while you straddle him, and your eyes land on his groin. He’s so stiff with need that the moment you unzip his pants, his cock slaps against his stomach.

“Easy, my love.” Geto laughs amidst pants, for your hands are everywhere on him. You practically tear his shirt apart to feel the familiar scent of him fill your nostrils, but when you pull aside your panties to sink on his girth, your lover places his hands on your hips, stopping you.

You pout, defeated. “I just want you inside me. Don’t you want to be inside me, Suguru?” in saying so you pout in faux defeat, all while stroking his cock.

The man grabs your waist. Hard.

“Just wait a minut-”

Of course he wants— hell, he needs to fuck you into the ground until you cream around his dick. You always look so pretty when you do, all loose limbs, glassy eyes and bitten lips.

But he promised a certain person to wait for him.

“No. I’m done waiting.” you shake your head, his pleas falling on deaf ears. You’re about to pull his hands away from you and have your way. Well, just before the lock clicks.

Having your back turned, you don’t see who’s locked the door until Satoru’s abs graze your shoulders. And his erection is pressed against your back, causing you to short-circuit.

When did he have time to undress? Why is he so huge?

But these are the last things you need to worry about, because as soon as his lips are on your neck, you realise his mask isn’t where it’s supposed to be.

His angelic features, twisted in desire, are a sight to see.

And yours fall on the bed once Gojo takes it off of you. The dim lights in the bedroom are easy on the eyes, and much easier is to be eye-fucked but not one, but two men.

“So am I, baby. So am I. '' Satoru peels off your panties without hesitation and once they’re past your hip bones, he gives them a pull and ball them up in his fist. Geto watches his best friend pump himself with your panties acting as a fleshlight, grunting and moaning.

I’m such a lucky girl, your mind is going in circles as you get rid of Geto’s mask. I have them both all for myself.

Now that you’re all face to face, you cave in. First, you drag Suguru in a kiss, violent and brimming with passion he reciprocates just as strongly as Gojo, with his face perched on your shoulder, awaits for him.

“Sa- ngh, I can’t. ‘T-‘toru.” 

“Now you can ride me, love.” Geto assists you as you sink on his cock. Inch by inch, you impale yourself on his girth until you bottom out, all while Satoru keeps your lips prisoners of his. His moans are yours and yours his, even when you break away to inhale some fresh air.

The name has Gojo’s blood go straight to his lower abdomen and once Geto lets you go with a final bite on your lower lip, the snow-haired man hauls you flush against him, and you’re welcomed with an open-mouthed kiss. You sigh in it and unconsciously peck at his lips, making him growl.

He’s about to explode, amd Suguru with him.

The moment doesn’t last long because the angry tip of Gojo’s cock, smeared in spit and your arousal that still coated the panties, is breaching past your folds to sit inside your full pussy.

You’ve broken every rule set by the orgy grandmaster, and he and his best friend lured you to participate to an orgy culminating in a dissolute threesome.

“Be a good girl and take me. We know you can, right, Suguru?” Satoru abruptly lurches towards Geto to give him a quick kiss to which your partner responds by cradling his face with a hand. The moment is so intimate, so special that your heart flutters.

You look at them tenderly for what it feels for an eternity, but they don’t let you feel left out for long, because their lips, their teeth mark your skin as Satoru eases himself in you, chomping down on your neck to restrain himself from coming already. You nearly do the same.

Feeling so full, stretched in any way possible now that his shaft rests upon Geto’s is truly divine.

It is worth the risk, since you grind on Suguru’s abs and raise your arms to lock them around Gojo’s neck to whisper,

“Give me more. More, more, more... ”

© nyimasu — do not copy, translate, repost and modify my works.

[leighsartworks216]

To Touch You

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

As someone who hates being touched (not to the extent as this fic portrays it), and also as someone who wants to hold Astarion and give him all the gentle affection he could ever wish for, I needed to write this

Warnings: touch-adverse descriptions of touch, hurt/comfort themes

Word Count: 814

Masterlist

AO3

Touch has always been difficult for you. Or maybe it started in your formative years and now you can't recall. In any case, the result is the same.

If someone brushes against your shoulder, you cringe and move to the closest open space. If someone grabs your hand, even just to pull you to safety in battle, it burns, and you have to grapple with the fact your hand feels wrong. Hugs are hell, and you've since learned how to dodge out of them or push the person away entirely.

And that's what makes this so hard. You want so terribly to give Astarion the soft affection he never had. You want to hold his hand and run your fingers through his hair and - gods forbid - you wanted to cuddle with him.

Since the relationship began, you kept your distance. Emotionally you could provide him the comfort and reassurance he needed, but physically, you sat apart, you were always at least an arm's length away. This distance has grown shorter over time, but you know it hurts him when you create it. A bubble around you. It makes him think you don't trust him, or that you still fear him after all this time. (Allowing him to drink from you was the one instance you granted him leniency, under the stipulation the only part of him that touches you is his mouth. It was worth the itchy feeling that covered your body as long as you got to see that smile.)

And even though it would hurt, you wanted to try. Try proving to him that you weren't afraid of him; that you do care for him in other ways that are easier for you to express than this.

So when you approach him as he sits outside his tent, looking determined as though you were heading into battle, Astarion was understandably confused and concerned. He watched you plop down next to him, only a few inches away. His eyebrows shot up his forehead.

"Darling? What are you-"

You shook your head, avoiding eye contact entirely to stare over his shoulder. "Just let me do this, please." With a sigh to calm your jittery nerves, you finally met his gaze. Your face morphed into something frightened and vulnerable. "Please."

A slew of questions rushed to the tip of his tongue. Do what, exactly? Why did you look so distraught? What had you been working yourself up for? Were you hurt? Were you going to tell him something awful? Were you... stepping away from the relationship? Had he pushed too far, overstepped a boundary? His mind spun with each one. But he pursed his lips to stop them all, and he nodded.

He could hear your breaths shake as you breathed deeply. You lifted your hands and they trembled, all while your heart fluttered in your chest like a frightened bunny. Slowly, you reached forward and took his hand in yours. His eyes couldn't decide where to focus: your face was tense, and you flinched at the initial contact; your hands slid over his skin, feeling the veins and callouses. You'd never initiated like this. Any time he'd tried, even delicately, your face would scrunch up and you'd create a larger gap away from him.

As you held his hand, breathing through each phantom sensation and emotion, you found it wasn't entirely unpleasant. A tingling sensation moved through your hands, up your arms, and down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but beyond that you could feel how soft his skin was. He stayed absolutely still, but you could still feel his fingers twitching against his will.

All too quickly, the feeling became unbearable. It was too much all at once. You cringed as you pulled away, rubbing your hands against the fabric of your shirt to remove the feeling. Astarion wanted to be offended - Was he truly so disgusting to touch? - until he remembered this had nothing to do with him.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out, voice wavering and anxious. "Your hands are soft, but I just can't..." You look down at your open palms, searching for words to describe it. The skin was red from your ministrations.

"Look at me, my love." Your hands clenched into fists as you met his eyes. You were still so frightened about what he thought. About how he perceived this. He smiled. "I appreciate you for trying, nonetheless. It... means a lot that you were willing to be uncomfortable for my sake.

"But," he continues, genuine smile shifting into a flirtatious smirk, "I'm perfectly content with the multitudinous forms of affection you seem to find to lavish on me. And I will do my best to share them with you, too."

You let out a long breath, relaxing for the first time since you approached him. You smiled, relieved. "Thank you, Astarion."

"Of course, my love."

[sinsirellaxx]

The anon who asked for the putting them in their place have amazing taste and your writing is so good too! ❤️ Please write a part 2 of the groveling part whenever you're free and have the inspiration! Of course, it's still up to you and if you're not feeling it, it's completely okay! 🎀

Also, remember to drink water and always stay hydrated! Your writing is amazing! <3

Slytherin Boys – You put them in your place and now they want you back

Warning: Toxic Boys alert!

A/N: Thank you so much, that is very sweet of you! Hope you're taking care of yourself as well! ❤️ Sorry this took me so long – life is a bit busy right now and sometimes my brain just isn't braining. 🙃

This is as much "groveling" I could do, because honestly – I don't see them toxic boys being truthful when apologizing for being too controlling or possessive. It is up to you: Would you forgive them?

Also: Not proofread!

Comments are greatly appreciated!

Mattheo …

… didn’t let you walk far. He willed the anger away as best as he could before rushing after you. He couldn’t believe it himself, but you had him wrapped around your finger and he hated it. But the thought of you leaving him and being with someone else seemed unbearable – it made him want to rip his hair out and scream until his lungs bled. Was he afraid you’d reject him after the attitude you just displayed? Yes! But if you did reject him, he'd just have to resort to more … drastic measures. He is a Riddle after all.

He quickly found you at the party and pulled you aside by your arm. You raised your eyebrows at him as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest – the smirk from before long gone.

“Look. I’m sorry for telling you what to wear. You are right – it isn’t my place to do so.” Hell yeah it is. Mattheo thought, not liking the bitter aftertaste the words left in his mouth. They were all lies. But it was either that or probably losing you.

His eyes lit up when he noticed your shoulders relax – your arms uncrossing and now hanging by your sides.

“Please forgive me. You’re just absolutely gorgeous and I guess I suddenly felt so insecure – which is not like me.” Mattheo added, inwardly gagging at the nonsense and vulnerability he was displaying. But you didn’t need to know that.

Jackpot. He thought as he watched your face soften, a reassuring smile on your face as you told him that there was no reason for him to be insecure.

Theodore …

… sighed defeatedly as you immediately pushed his hands off your body. He was caught off guard when you suddenly pushed him back out and slammed the door into his face.

“What the – come one!” He groaned, the lust from before being replaced by frustration. He tried turning the doorknob, but you had apparently locked it. Theodore rolled his eyes – he could always use his wand to unlock it. Leaning his forehead against the wooden surface of your door he spoke loud enough for you to hear.

“Bella, please open the door. Aren’t you overreacting?”

He was met with silence.

“Come on, open up and let’s talk about it.” He sighed heavily as he pressed his hear against the door.

But he was met with silence again.

“I was just worried about you, love.” Theo spoke louder, his patience wearing thin as he knocked loudly on your door.  He heard rustling behind the door but instead of unlocking the door you turned on some music. Loud music.

“That’s it.” Theodore grumbled under his breath before taking a step back. However, instead of using his wand – like any other student would have done – he chose to kick down the door. After a few tries he managed to break the lock, kicking the door open and walking into your room. He could fix the door later.

You stared at him in disbelief, your eyes wandering from your ruined door to his stoic face. He was panting slightly – obviously out of breath from the force he had to put into kicking the door down.

“Will you listen to me now?” He asked with his brow raised.

You crossed your arms defensively in front of your chest while avoiding eye contact. You wouldn’t give up that easily. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Theodore moved closer to you, his hands ghosting over your hips before slowly pulling you closer to him.

“Look, I’m really sorry for suffocating you with my love,” He murmured softly, his voice laced with hidden sarcasm, “I’ll stop annoying you with all the questioning. But I want you to know, that I’m just worried.” Theodore finished, his grip on your hips slightly tightening when you finally look up at him.

“Even Hogwarts isn’t as safe anymore.” His voice broke slightly towards the end of his sentence, his eyes downcast as his shoulders sagged. He knew you’d fall for it. You could never resist him if he acted so vulnerable in front of you – you’d have to hug him. And just as expected you immediately flung your arms around him, pulling him down to hug him. Your face pressed into the crook of his neck as you breathed in his scent with one of your hands combing through his hair. Theodore smirked as he tightened his hold on you, listening to you apologize for being such a diva and promising him to always tell him about your whereabouts – because he was right. Hogwarts wasn’t as safe anymore. Your boyfriend knew best, and he definitely knew how to play you like an instrument.

Lorenzo …

… was seething in his room. His mind swirling with what-ifs as he thought about you and Potter. His jaw clenched, gritting his teeth as he thought of the male. He hated him so much.  He hated him even more because he dared to befriend you – the love of his life. His girlfriend. He scoffed as he thought about your words. Annoyed that he couldn’t control you – that he couldn’t convince you to quit talking to that damned boy. He wanted to pay you back for it, make you suffer just as he was now. He wanted to see you cry and beg for him to love you. Only you. But he knew that whatever he had in mind would just push you away and right into that stupid Potter’s arms. He’d go ballistic if that happened.

He'd have to apologize. No matter how much he didn’t want to – because there was no reason to apologize, he had done nothing wrong – he knew that was what you wanted.

Letting himself fall on his bed he closed his eyes. He’d handle it tomorrow – he had to calm down first.

The next day Enzo went to Hogsmeade to buy you roses and your favorite sweets before making his way back to school. He kept going over the apology-speech he had thought of before going to sleep – hoping he’d not mess it up.

When he’d finally find you somewhere in the hallways he’d grow tense: There was still the lingering fear of you rejecting his apology. However, as soon as your eyes connected his shoulders relaxed slightly – you were so beautiful. Clearing his throat, he stopped two feet away from you, gripping the flowers in his hands tightly as he took in your appearance. You looked sad.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted yesterday. That was not fair of me at all.” Lorenzo apologized; his voice soft as he frowned slightly.

“I’ve been thinking about it the whole night …” Oh he had – he’d been thinking about all the ways he could make the Potter disappear.

“I feel horrible for the things I’ve said.” No, he didn’t. He still strongly believes he’s right.

“I have no right to tell you what to do and who to befriend.” Unfortunately, not. But he’d try to change that.

“Will you please forgive me?”

Draco …

… felt pathetic as he stood before you. His head hung low and his arms uselessly hanging at his sides – just as useless as he felt in that moment. He felt your eyes burn into him as you took in his appearance – you must be shocked to see him this disheveled. This broken. Your eyes softened slightly, your hands itching to lift his head and embrace him. He looked like he had been through hell. When he heard your soft voice uttering his name he dared to look up, his eyes red from the nightmares that haunted him in the nights. You couldn’t help it – you lifted your hands to cup his cheeks, your thumbs drawing small circles on his cheeks. You were close to tears.

“I’m so sorry …” He mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper as he averted his eyes again. “I’m so ashamed for the things I’ve said …” His voice broke, his whole body shaking from the sob that forced its way through his lips. Your heart shattered into tiny pieces – your poor boyfriend. You suddenly felt stupid for being friends with Potter and the rest, knowing well that he suffered so much because of them. Shaking your head you pulled him into your arms, hugging him tightly as you patted his back reassuringly, telling him how sorry you were for being so inconsiderate. For putting them above him.

Draco returned the hug hesitantly, desperately clinging onto your sweater as he cried into your hair with a small smile on his lips. Everything was going according to plan.

Blaise …

… wasn’t so sure anymore. Three days had passed, and you had still not come to him – neither did you reply to any of his messages. With a heavy sigh he stood up from his bed: He’d have to make it up to you, there was no other way around it.

Finding you was rather easy – he had gone to your dorm-room first. Knocking on your door he waited for a few seconds before you opened it, clad in joggers and his hoodie. You immediately frowned when you saw him, pushing the door close. Blaise reacted quickly and put his foot between the door and the doorframe.

“I want to apologize.” He rushed out, pulling his foot back when you opened the door again.

“I’m really sorry for what I did. I know you hate it when I get violent and I’m sorry I acted that way. Really – please, I’ll change.” He whispered brokenly as he stared deep into your eyes.

Tom …

… Riddle didn’t beg or ask for forgiveness. Never. But after a whole week of you ignoring him, he has had enough. He apparently needed you more than he let on – and more then you needed him, which bothered him tremendously.  He had tried everything: Read your mind, manipulate your thoughts – he even made Snape partner up with you for a project. But nothing seemed to work. He couldn’t see into your mind, and you skipped potions to avoid him as well. He had to talk to you. With clenched fists and a tight jaw, he approached you after dinner when you were alone.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” He questioned. His voice causing you to flinch and spin around to face him. You looked slightly nervous when you noticed him. Good. Tom thought. You didn’t answer him right away, which further added to his frustration. He wasn’t known to be a patient man. “Do you think you can survive without me?” He asked cockily, with his hand in his pockets – his fingers playing with his wand. Just in case.

You scoffed at his attitude. Even now, when he should be apologizing, he was nothing but arrogant. Rolling your eyes at him you told him to leave you alone – telling him it was over before taking a few steps back. You were afraid to turn your back towards him. And right you were – but you underestimated him. For he didn’t need you to turn his back towards him to take action. He whipped out his wand and grit out the imperio spell with a small flick of his wrist. You never stood a chance. Your eyes turned a misty color as they watched the tall male step closer to you. His free hand shooting out to softly caress your cheek before gripping your chin tightly.

“Foolish little girl. There is no escape. You will stay with me and obey me … no matter what.”

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter four

summary: you and luca go to the ballet, bringing up a very important question: is this, and could it be, a date?

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this chapter is all about things left unsaid, the pining TM and yearning TM. shoutout to @arctvrvs who recommended onegin, as the ballet they go to see. thank you again for all the shares, reblogs, comments! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part three | masterlist | part five

You: I have your book. Devoured it over the weekend. 

Luca: Glad you liked it. 

You did like it?

You: No, I clearly hate-read it one weekend. 

I’m kidding. 

Of course I liked it!

Luca: You’re hilarious 🙄

You: I can return it to you later today. 

If you have a free minute. 

Luca: For you? Always. 

Come by the restaurant?

You: Done. See you later.

Text exchanges like this have become more and more regular between you and Luca and it makes you question why you’d ever been so hesitant to tell him about your ex husband in the first place. You know part of the answer: you’d been afraid – afraid of what he’d say, afraid it’d be too much for him, afraid it’d scare him away – and yet, your admission seems to have only brought you closer. 

Which is a fact that makes you feel incredibly seen and also scares the shit out of you. 

But, with Luca’s copy of A Work In Progress: A Journal tucked underneath your arm, you decide you’ll conquer one mountain at a time as you come in through the doors of the closed restaurant.

“Oi!” one of Luca’s pastry chefs, a burlier man with deep brown eyes and a beard that only facial hair enthusiasts could dream of hollers, in an attempt to grab Luca’s attention when you enter the pastry room. The man follows up his exclamation with something muttered in Danish – something that almost sounds like a cat call directed towards the head pastry chef. 

Hey, loverboy. Come get your girlfriend.

You and Luca lock eyes from across the room, and you watch as his face simultaneously lights up as he sees you, while glowering in his coworkers direction. Luca shouts a ‘shut it, mate’ in return before approaching you, 

“Did he just-?” you ask him, with a small laugh. 

“Call you my girlfriend? Yes,” Luca admits, a blush running across his cheeks as he looks down, embarrassedly. 

Brown-eyed-bearded-burly-chef exchanges glances with another chef, focused on weighing dough on a food scale, before asking you with an intrigued hint in his voice:

“You speak Danish?” 

“Barely,” you answer, an apologetic half smile on your face.

He exchanges a knowing look with the other pastry chef in response, then snickers, because he really is only trying to be a good wingman here. 

“I don’t know what the hold up is… but I see it,” he says in English this time, his Danish accent thick as he wags his finger towards the both of you, earning another glare from Luca. 

“Okay, let’s step outside,” Luca hurries, ushering you out of the kitchen and into the empty dining room with a hand on your upper back. 

Your laugh echoes in the barren dining room, since pastry prep starts so damn early in the morning, and the physical restaurant doesn’t open for service till evening. 

“Again, I’m terribly sorry about him,” Luca apologizes, a little more flustered than you expected him to be.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him with a warm smile. “If anything, you at least now know you’ve got a great wingman when you need one.”

You watch a brief flash of, well you’re not sure what, flash across Luca’s face as he wonders if that’s what you’re hoping for. Instead of overthinking it, wondering why you’d want his coworker to act as his wingman in the first place, he pushes it to the back of his mind, moving forward with what he’d planned on bringing up with you anyways. 

“Your book, sir,” you say, handing Luca his copy of the book. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” he grins.

“Yeah, thanks for lending it to me. Took me a few weekends to carve out the time but… once I started, I couldn’t put it down,” you inform him, gushing over the borrowed book.

“I have something for you,” Luca states, as he pulls out a white envelope from one of his apron pockets. “In return.”

“Awww. Don’t tell me you went through all this trouble to get me a bookmark and when I’ve already finished it,” you banter with him, playfully. 

“They’re not bookmarks,” he smirks, as he looks at you with those electrifyingly blue eyes. 

“Ah, tell me more,” you encourage him, curiously. 

“They’re tickets,” he answers, handing you the envelope. 

“Oh.”

Before you can wonder whether Luca went out of his way to purchase you tickets to the ballet, he continues with his explanation. 

“Yeah we’ve got this regular diner. Always entertaining, bringing in investors, board members, the likes... Turns out he’s the Artistic Director of The Royal Danish Ballet. Hooks us up with tickets all the time,” Luca says. 

“Couldn’t make it opening night so but what do you say… to a performance of Onegin Thursday night?” he continues.  “That is if you can – if you want – to take the night off.”

“With you?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your eyes. 

“Yeah, if you’d like,” Luca answers. “Figured I owed you after you purchased the Jazz Fest tickets.” Taking a more playful approach, almost as if he’s testing you as he adds: “Unless there’s something other bloke you wanna take instead of-.”

“No!” you protest, quick to correct him. “I mean, yes. I want to go. With you. Let me see what I can do scheduling wise.”

Was this a date? You wonder to yourself.

For whatever reason, this proposal feels much more like a date than anything else you’ve done with him so far. Bike rides to bakeries, walks through the park, even asking Luca to join you for Jazz Fest with tickets you purchased almost a year ago, still haven't felt this monumental. 

But a night at the ballet? 

A night of getting dressed up and taking off work to spend time with each other?

This feels much more like a date. 

And you might even be excited about the prospect of having one with him, with Luca specifically, something you haven’t felt for anyone in a long time. 

“Just let me know,” Luca says, coolly, followed by his oh-so-charming-crooked smile. 

By the time you take this… proposition – taking off a night at the restaurant for a maybe-a-date-with-Luca – Mathilde and Jesper are practically pushing you out of the restaurant swearing that if you don’t go, they’ll write you out of the business partnership, and that Mathilde is more than happy to run the kitchen all by herself that night. 

While you appreciate the support, it feels like it add pressure – expectations, really – to Thursday night.

You push the thought from your head, choosing to charge forward despite your nerves, before sending Luca your official yes via text message. 

So… what does one wear to the ballet?

-------------------------------

You settle on a silky white slip dress with thin straps, a sweetheart neckline, and a slit in the skirt that travels up the leg in a way that’s revealing yet still appropriate. You’ve draped a blazer across your shoulders because you can’t be bothered to properly put it on during the warmest month of the year but you know you’ll want it when you’re inside of the Opera House. You slip on a black kitten heel to match your bag, then pull your hair back into a loose ponytail, allowing the stray pieces of hair that fall out of it to frame your face. 

It’s not until Luca shows up at your flat with a text that he’s here, do you make your way outside. Your head is buried in your bag, taking a last minute inventory, ensuring you have what you need for the night: phone, keys, ID, extra lip gloss… 

“Hi,” he says on an exhale, as soon as he sees you. 

There’s something in his voice that sounds different, you note, as you lift your head to look at him. 

Holy. Shit… 

Fuck me, you think to yourself, as soon as you see him. He’s dressed in black slacks with a blazer to match, layered over a white button down worn without a tie, and pristine white trainers that you can’t help but notice. 

It’s classic – classy – with a little bit of swag from the trainers that feels… pleasantly unexpected. You look like one of those hip couples that decided to stick it to tradition and get married at the courthouse with a dope photoshoot instead. 

“Hi,” is all that comes out of your mouth, your eyes wide as the two of you stare each other down. 

Yeah, this really feels like a date now. 

“Hi,” he says in return before exhaling. “You look great.”

He’s grinning from ear to ear now, and the man cannot take his eyes off of you. 

“I-,” you start, as you gather your words, reminding yourself that you do in fact know the English language. As your words come back to you, you take a more playful approach instead, making up for lost wit as you say:

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Luca smirks, a twinkle in his eye that tells you he’s pretty damn enchanted by you right now. The two of you share a look – one that feels very not-friendly, emphasizing just how much more date-like this seems to be. 

“Shall we?” he asks you, offering out his arm for you to take. 

“Let’s,” you answer, taking it as he escorts you to the metro.

You and Luca look wildly out of place while waiting for the metro, then on the metro as you make your way to the Royal Danish Opera House in your dressier-than-normal apparel. You share small talk while you wait on the platform, ramblings over your day and then his while finding a place to sit, then nervous giggles and flirtatious stolen glances while seated next to each other on your journey. 

It’s nice to be reminded that you haven’t entirely forgotten how to flirt. 

From its shoreside location to its sparkling interior, the Royal Danish Opera House is awe inspiring. You take it all in as you and Luca settle into your seats and a comfortable quiet intimacy as you look over your programs, just before the show begins. 

Onegin, you come to find as the show begins, is a story of unrequited love, missed changes, and ‘too little, too late.’ Its relevance is not lost on you as you watch as the young country girl falls in love with the worldly Count. She is young, naive, a hopeless romantic, perhaps the character you would’ve related to when you were younger – before your marriage ended. A younger version of you might laugh at the fact that you somehow find yourself relating more to the Count. He’s cold, jaded, a pessimist even, only to be rejected when he realizes he missed his chance at love so many years ago. 

You steal a glance in Luca’s direction, his eyes fixed to the tragedy that plays out on the stage in front of you. 

He really is stunning, you think to yourself, as you carefully examine the near-perfect symmetry of his face, before returning your focus back to the performance. 

To say that you haven’t noticed the way Luca looks at you would be a lie. And you can’t help but notice how eager you’ve been lately to find any excuse to spend extra time with him too. 

But you can’t help wondering about just how ready you are – how and when you might know when you’ll be ready:

Ready to date. Ready to open yourself up to someone. Ready to fall in love again. 

Would you know when it was time? And was this a sign – meeting Luca – that it’s time for a new beginning now? 

But what if it weren’t? What if you weren’t ready now? Then what? 

It’s not like you’d expect for Luca to wait for you or anything, but the idea of a new beginning, of falling in love again, of possibly getting your heart broken again instills the kind of terror in you that shakes you to your very core. 

But what if this was your only chance? 

You can’t imagine Luca would be single for much longer – the fact that he even is now completely perplexes you – and you’re sure that he has an entire roster of women lining up, ready to take your place. Not that you feel like it’s your place now, though you’re not sure where he’d have the time to entertain an entire roster of women with how much time you’ve been spending together lately. 

You push the thoughts from your mind, trying your best to focus on the dancers, even though it’s the thing that’s got you pensive in the first place. 

And it’s almost as if, right on cue, the minute you turn your attention away from Luca, his eyes are on you, admiring the way that you marvel at the story unfolding in front of you. 

Luca smiles to himself, in pure disbelief that the same woman who brought him much needed inspiration could also be the same woman he’s begun to have feelings for. He finds you extraordinary: you’re funny, you’re incredibly talented, and you make his heart skip a beat every single time you walk into a room. He doesn’t know which deities to thank for meeting you, but he’s sure he must’ve done something right in a past life for it to bring you to him in this one. 

He’s glad you told him – about your ex husband, about the divorce – and while it’s filled in some blanks for him, it’s also brought up more questions. Questions like:

Were you even interested in dating? Were you ready to start dating because he couldn’t blame you if you weren’t? And if you were, would you be interested in dating him? 

These last few months of getting to know each other have been wonderful – and he’s thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you as friends – but Luca wants more. He wants to hold your hand while walking along the Nyhavn waterfront. He wants to press a kiss to your lips when you stop by the restaurant as he’s getting off shift, before heading into your own. He wants to wrap you up in his arms, curl his body around yours as you settle in with him on your shared couch after a long night at the restaurant, going on about your new special, or your recently hired line-cook-in-training.

Luca wants to call you his, and he wants nothing more than for you to call him yours. He yearns for the quiet domesticity he thinks he could have with you – one he knows he could have with you. 

He doesn’t want to miss his chance. It’s why he asked you that question when you told him about your ex husband – are you still in love with him? – because Luca can’t bear the thought of falling in love with a woman already in love with another man. 

He replays the answer in his head – no, I’m not in love with him – almost as if he’s reassuring himself.

Luca knows what he needs to do. He just needs to talk to you and tonight feels like as good of a time as any to do so, considering you’re practically on a date. Luca makes up his mind about it – that he’ll bring it up after the performance, maybe even ask you on a proper date. 

As the performance ends, the two of you applaud with the rest of the theatre before exiting the performance space. You and Luca linger outside of the theatre, watching the other patrons walk by, arrange rides for themselves, head out for a night cap. He’s working up the nerve to bring up the conversation, watching your lips carefully as you go on about the performance, a brilliance in your eyes that he notices you get whenever you talk about something you’re passionate about. 

You’re in the middle of dissecting the end of Act Two as he Luca abruptly blurts out:

“You hungry?”

You pause as your mouth hangs agape, noticing that’s something different, that’s something’s shifted between the two of you. 

“Uh… no. Don’t you have to be up early tomorrow?” you ask back, hesitantly. 

“Ehm. Yes, I do. But eh, I don’t know. I’d ehm, I’d be up for a bite. If you are,” Luca manages to explain because he’s not ready for the night to end. 

You can feel it – the tension between the two of you hangs thickly in the air – and you know this isn’t just a ‘let’s go out for a bite’ kind of ask. 

You wondered how you’d feel when this moment came, and instead of being ecstatic, instead of wanting to jump at the chance, the panic sets in, filling your belly with the urge to jump into harbour instead. 

You wish you felt differently – you want to feel differently – but you don’t. 

So instead, you stammer out a:

“I think I’m just ready to head home, but you should go. If you want to. I think I’m just going to walk home or-.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take you home,” Luca offers. 

You hesitate before agreeing, “Uh… yeah. Okay. As long as you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Luca says as he places a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you in the direction of home. “I’d rather know you got home safe.”

You nod, instantly filled with guilt as Luca’s demeanor changes, his facial expression moving from somewhat-confused-and-disappointed to one of concern, kindness, and genuine care. 

What the hell is wrong with you? You think to yourself. 

But you know you can’t push it – you can’t push yourself to be ready,  to open up – regardless of how perfect Luca is. 

As Luca walks you home, there’s a palpable shift in the dynamic between the two of you. He seems cautious, almost as if he’s tiptoeing around you, uncertain about where the two of you stand. And truthfully, he is uncertain. He’s worried that he scared you off, if he came on too strong, if his ask changes something between the two of you. Luca realizes tonight is perhaps not the night, but he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to wait – be able to keep the way he feels about you to himself. 

“Thank you… for walking me home,” you say, as you arrive at the door to your apartment building. 

“‘S no problem. Had to get you back to your flat safely,” Luca reassures you with a smile on his face. 

You stand across from him, mere inches away. You could do it – close the gap between the two of you because you really do feel like an asshole for earlier – but it feels like something’s stopping you. You wait too long, letting your impulse move too thoroughly through your body, until it’s too late and the impulse is gone. 

You’re at an impasse: Luca opens his mouth to say something before pausing and you’re not sure what to say either, the two of you standing across from one another, frozen in a moment in time. 

Instead of speaking, he simply steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace as he inhales. 

It feels too good. 

This feels too good: the way he smells, the way it feels to be pressed up against him, his hands running smooth patterns across your back. 

“Luca,” you begin as you pull away from the hug, your eyes locked with his. 

He waits, but as you open your mouth to say something else, nothing comes out. 

You’re not sure if it’s a look of disappointment, regret, or something else that flashes across his face, before he gives you a half smile. Luca takes a few steps backwards, almost as if he needs to create space between you and him, his voice a low deep rumble as he says:

“Goodnight, love.”

-------------------------------

a/n: and now we're getting somewhere. i PROMISE we are getting somewhere. just wait ;)

[veronicaphoenix]

Title: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits — Part Three | Words: 10k

Tags & trigger warnings: unresolved to resolved feelings, polyamorous relationship, angst to fluff and comfort, mentions of anxiety, sexual content, including threesome, p in v (protected), oral sex (both receiving), overstimulation, edge play, slight bondage, blindfolding, mentions of spankings, double penetration. (Let me know if I'm missing sth).

Author’s note: here it finally goes :) this is for you all. Thank you for reading and sharing your reactions 💕

INTO THE ABYSS OF BAD HABITS — PART THREE

“Where are you?” My brother’s voice reached my ears through the phone line.

I stopped the absent-minded tracing of letter on the surface of my Costa Coffee cup and furrowed my brow. “What do you mean, ‘where am I’? I’m in England. I told you I’d be here until—”

“I know you’re in England, smartass,” he retorted. He was likely in his office, settling into his morning routine in Los Angeles, while it was mid-afternoon in the UK. “I mean, where exactly? I got a call from Noah twenty minutes ago. He’s freaking out because you’re nowhere to be found and you’re not answering his calls or messages.” 

“Oh.”

Noah had indeed tried reaching me several times since morning, calling and texting and then joining the iMessage group where Oliver had also added his fair dose of worried and then angry messages. I should have said something, I realized now, at least to reassure them that nothing had happened —besides getting fucked by both of them and feeling very sore—. 

The memories from last night flooded back and I tightened my grip on the cup of hot chocolate, tuning out the noise of the people around me. 

When I left the hotel that morning, I walked far from it hoping a change of scenery might clear my head and provide some clarity on what I’d done and its implications for my relationships with Noah and Oliver. But even after skipping lunch for a coffee at Starbucks, then trying my luck with a hot chocolate at Costa, nothing seemed to help.    

I was doomed, and my brother’s call was the last thing I needed.

Jack called my name repeatedly until he had to raise his voice, pulling me from my thoughts. “Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m—I’m just in a café. I was feeling suffocated with all the coming and going between hotels and venues, bus rides and all the work and…”

“Did something happen?”

“No,” I replied too quickly, knowing he’d detect the evasion.  

I could almost envision his raised eyebrow on the other end of the line. 

 “You slept with him again, didn’t you?”

“Jack, that’s none of your business.”

“I know, but you’re my sister and your well-being is, in fact, my business. I know something is up by the way Noah was speaking, and there was some Brit losing his mind in the background, too. What is this all about?”

“Jack, trust me, you don’t want to know.”

There was a silence coming from his side and my cheeks started burning. I glanced around nervously, feeling as thought every eye in the café was on me.

Jack’s sigh reached my end. 

“Listen, baby sis, whatever you’ve done, you need to fix it. This situation with Noah has been going on long enough, and you two are lying to each other,” he acknowledged. “If there’s a third party involved… Well, I don’t know. That’s your business but sort it out. Don’t bury your head in the sand. That’s not like you. You’ve always been the one preaching all that shit about talking about your feelings and communication being so important. Don’t shy away from it now. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can be fixed, and don’t be afraid of what might happen. You know you can always call me, whenever.”

I was the one rising an eyebrow now.

“How much has Noah told you?”

Jack chuckled.

“Just talk to them.”

Oh. 

There it was again. 

Them. 

I wondered if leaving had been a mistake, after all. 

Not long after my conversation with Jack, I returned to the hotel. 

As I stepped into the room, I was met with a potent blend of sex and masculinity that engulfed my senses. 

The bed was still unmade, a reminder of the recent sinful activities. I noticed the ‘do not disturb’ sign still hanging outside the door and decided to leave it be, my fingers tingling with the weight of my growing anxiety.  

Every time I looked towards the tousled sheets, vivid and colorful memories flooded my mind. I could see myself on top of Oliver, Noah behind me, the three of us drowning in a sea of collective groans, screams, and wails of pleasure. 

 I could also see their slumbering forms occupying each side of the bed. 

 To divert my mind, I looked for something else to do. I needed to sort out my things, indulge in a hot shower, maybe eat something or have another coffee. Instead, my eyes fell upon the lingerie set, neatly folded, and placed on the desk next to the TV remote. 

Which one of them took the time to gather the garments from the floor and fold them so meticulously?

My heart fluttered at the tender gesture, adding another drop of confusion to my ongoing crisis.  

I made a beeline for the shower. Noah’s and Oliver’s scent still lingered on my skin, and the love bites and hickeys wouldn’t leave me for a few days. I had no other choice but take my brother’s advice and pull myself together. 

After a grueling day spent replaying the events of the previous night and a near-anxiety attack in the confines of my hotel bathroom, I decided I had to talk to them. Hiding and pretending none of it had happened would only lead to further complications and would strain my relationship with Noah and Oliver to the point of ruining everything. I couldn’t afford to let it fester and seep into their professional lives. I would not let that happen. 

An hour slipped away while I debated when it would be the best time to approach them. 

Should I text them? Send a message on the iMessage group? Or should I just talk to them face to face? To one of them first or to both at the same time? 

By the time I resolved that this was something that needed to be talked to face to face and I gathered the courage to admit my mistake, evening had descended, and everybody was already at the venue where the bands were playing that night.

I was still unsure of where this would go. I’d had the entire day to think about my feelings and, well, I was still a mess. The only certainty I held onto was that I didn’t want to lose any of them, so I was willing to do whatever they said, whether it was keeping everything in professional terms, remain friends, or… 

Taking a deep breath, I watched as the Nicks and Jolly descended from the stage, their faces beaming with sweat and satisfaction. Jolly squeezed my shoulder as he passed by. In return I sent a faint smile his way. 

Moments later, Noah appeared, descending the metal steps clad in black pants and a tank top. His eyes briefly widened as he caught sight of me. He paused, the towel in his hand frozen mid-motion as he registered my presence. Then, without a word, he continued past me, following the same path as the rest of the band.  

“Noah,” I called out, a tinge of desperation in my voice. But amidst the hustle and bustle of the stage preparation for BMTH, my plea seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

Noah stopped, half-turning towards me. His gaze was cold, and he was angry. That much I could tell. 

I couldn’t fuck it up anymore, so the last thing left for me to do was to be honest. 

“I got scared,” I said, the words catching in my throat.  

“Scared?” He echoed, his tone sharp.

If I nodded, it was lost on me because his dark, penetrating gaze made me freeze on the spot, and when he drew nearer, my heart thundered in my chest.  

“No, you don’t get to tell me that you got scared,” he retorted, barely inches away from me, his voice low and intense. His scent enveloped me: he smelled just the same as last night, except for the missing addition of my own sweat and the magical residual scent of sex.  

I wanted him again. I wanted him covered in sweat from the heat of our intimacy, of our entwined bodies. 

He towered over me, his presence overwhelming, making me feel tiny and inconsequential.

“I was the one scared,” he admitted, his voice laced with pain and fury. “I was scared every time I fucked you in my bed and I found you looking at me with those beautiful fucking eyes. I was scared because I knew I was falling in hard. I was terrified,” he emphasized, the last word dripping with raw emotion. “Then you slept with Oliver. When I got to know, I was on the verge of nightmares. I was terrified at the thought that I might have lost you. Then you told me all those things, and yet, I decided to give you what you wanted even though it scared the shit out of me. It scared me to hell to think of what it would do to me —to us— if we crossed that line with Oliver. And yet again, we did. And then this morning you were gone. You were not there by my side when you made me promise not to leave. So no, you don’t get to tell me you were scared after you got fucked by two men who fucking adore you!” 

My throat constricted, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. 

Instinctively, my hand reached out towards him, but Noah recoiled, stepping back with a shake of his head. Not a single strand of hair moved from its place on his forehead due to the layer of sweat covering every inch of this tall, muscular frame. 

“You wanted honesty? There it is,” he continued, this time his voice low and composed. He dropped the towel to the floor, as if he was… giving up. “You were right to demand that from me, but you should have done the same in return.” 

And yet, I had left him before the sun rose, just as he did with me in that moment, stepping back with his brown eyes locked on mine until he couldn’t stand my gaze any longer and he turned away, rushing out the corner and disappearing from my sight. 

I realized then the severity of my actions. It had taken me years to get Noah to open up, and just when I had managed to get him to, to unwrap another layer of him, I had turned my back on him. 

He had all the right to be furious, to hate me, to never want to see me again.

I just didn’t think I could take it because, with each passing second, my feelings for him were becoming clearer. What I had been feeling for months was more than just platonic adoration. 

Waves of anxiety engulfed me. Some of the staff members, having caught up in the intense exchange, cast various glances my way as I stood there alone, drowning in my own misery. Some of their looks were pitiful, others were dripping with disgust. 

With a dry throat and some tears streaming down my cheeks, I hid in the nearest restroom and in a feeble attempt to regain my composure. I told myself that there was a way to get Noah back, that we could be mended and we could move past this. 

But another voice in my head told me that I had fucked up beyond repair; that I hadn’t just fucked up a wonderful relationship with two wonderful men; I had also hurt them, and that knowledge tore my insides apart. 

I didn’t recognize myself.

Why had I acted the way I did? Why hadn’t I stayed? 

I had always been the one to push others to improve their communication skills. I hated unresolved tension and not having a clear idea of what I felt and what others felt around me. It was something that consistently plunged me into anxiety, so why had I chosen this path? 

Desperation seized me. 

Fifteen minutes later, after washing my face and trying to move the hair away from my face, I headed to the green room. 

Though greeted with nods and briefs hugs from the people crowding the room, my focus was on one individual. 

My stomach knotted at the sight of Oliver’s eyes on me, the look on his green orbs not much distant from the one Noah had had mere moments ago. Swallowing hard, I walked to him, ignoring some lighthearted joke Mat attempted to engage me in. He must have sensed my unease, not from my lack of response, but from the weight of Oliver’s stare as he stood in my path.  

His bandmates had known him for than I did, and it was clear that they knew when to shut their mouths and redirect their gazes away. 

Perhaps I should have felt terrified, but terrified had led me to ruin one of the best nights of my life, so no, I wouldn’t let it happen again. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

I would need more than a minute to say everything I wanted to say, though.   

Instead of replying, he eyed me for two seconds, twirling the Red Bull can in his hand before addressing the room at large. 

“Guys, can you give us some privacy?”

In another circumstance, I might have felt embarrassed by the sudden attention, knowing that everyone present was likely speculating about why Oliver wanted to be alone with me in the green room and we both had those long faces on. However, after the events of last night, I found myself beyond the capacity for embarrassment. 

“We’re going on stage in ten minutes,” Lee interjected. I could feel his gaze boring into my back while he sent a warning directed at Oliver. 

“Got it,” Oliver replied, his tone firm.  

It took the others a full minute to gather their stuff and vacate the room, some muttering under their breath as they left. 

Taking a deep breath, I met Oliver’s gaze head-on, steeling myself.

“I fucked up," I began, watching him closely for his reaction. The weight of my words sank in as I tried to get my shit together after my failed attempt at sorting things out with Noah earlier. 

I waited for his reply with my nerves eating me alive.

“You fucked up by having sex with me and Noah or by leaving in the morning?”

“By leaving in the morning. I should have stayed. I just… I panicked.”

Oliver narrowed his green eyes at me, a mix of frustration and something else flickering across his face. 

“I can understand that,” he conceded, his tone softening slightly, “but then you bailed on us and disappeared the entire day. What are we supposed to think?” 

Standing up straight, he moved away from the cheap white IKEA table he had been leaning on, circling me before disposing of the can in a nearby black bin. 

Yeah, I should've stayed and talked to them instead of running away, but what was done, was done. Now I had to find a way to fix it on my own. 

“Noah doesn’t want to talk to me," I said, feeling like a whiny little girl for being denied a lollipop.

“I’m not sure I want to talk to you either,” Oliver replied bluntly. His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My panic momentarily increased until he continued talking. "I’m torn between that or bending you over that table and fucking you hard and fast after giving you a good spanking.”

I froze for a beat, my cheeks flaming. Closing my eyes, I dropped my shoulders and released the air I’d been holding. 

“I don’t need that right now. I need to talk to you and Noah before I make it worse.”

“Yes, obviously. This is not going to work if there’s no communication”

This.

I bit my lip, only to get chided by Oliver. “Don’t do that. You’ll bruise yourself.” 

“I know time is not on our side now,” I continued, “but is there anywhere we can meet to… talk? The three of us?” 

Oliver hummed in thought. 

“Considering we need to hop on the tour bus early tomorrow, I suggest you get some good sleep tonight and we talk when we reach the hotel in London after lunch.”

I nodded again. I was defeated, so I would just do whatever they said. I just wanted to fix things. 

With my eyes on the floor, I startled when I felt Oliver’s fingers on my cheek. He was eyeing me from under his eyelashes, a tiny furrow between his eyebrows. 

“Are you sure you just want to talk?”

How could I tell him that every fiber of my body was screaming to be touched again by both their hands, by their fingers, their mouths…? 

Maybe I didn’t need to. Soon enough, he was smirking knowingly, and he pulled gently at my lower lip with his thumb.

“That’s what I thought. But I’m not touching you again until you’re honest with me and Noah, so take the time you need to think. Whatever it is, I’ll respect your decision.”

“Will you?” I couldn’t help but ask, uncertainty coloring my tone. 

 It took him a moment to respond. 

“Hell, no. You think you’re the only one terrified, doll?” he countered with a tilt of his head. “That makes threeof us. I’ve been thinking about you since before I knew you were coming to Europe with Noah and the band. I just assumed that whatever you had with Noah was restricted to the two of you even if you weren’t dating. But then you came back and you reached me with that pretty smile and you shared so much of yourself with me… and then, to make it worse, you let me touch you… and I knew I was doomed because I’d never get enough of you.”

“Oliver, I—” I began, my voice shaking, my vision getting blurry. 

“No crying, come on,” he admonished. “You’re a big girl. You took both of us so well last night,” he reminded me, a flash of lust crossing his eyes. “You can manage this. We’ll get through it the three of us together, wherever it takes us, even if it’s on different paths.”

“I’m not sure I want us to go on different paths…” I confessed quietly, surprising not only him but myself. 

He sighed, seeming relieved. 

“That’s why I said to get a good night’s sleep and think about it. I’ll let Noah know we’ll be talking tomorrow as we reach London, okay?”

I swallowed my tears and nodded. 

When I asked Oliver if I could travel with him in BMTH’s tour bus the next morning, of course he readily agreed. But what I didn’t expect was Noah’s unexpected appearance at seven in the morning on the same bus, seeking me out. He wasn’t as pissed as he had been when we talked right after Bad Omen’s show the night before, but he was definitely not happy that I was evading the band’s tour bus—evading him—.

I was still tired. Exhausted. Drained from a sleepless night. Despite Oliver’s assurances that things would be sorted out, I was scared that Noah wouldn’t accept it, that he would never be okay with a relationship between the three of us, and that he would never forgive me.

That’s why when he appeared on BMTH’s bus, I simply sank onto the sofa when he instructed me to sit, and I let him settle next to me, his thigh and arm brushing mine. I was ready for the worst.  

“I might be pissed at you,” he started saying, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you around,” he stated. His gaze had softened as he looked at me, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his almond-shaped orbs. Our faces were barely inches away from each other. The fact that he smelled so good wasn’t helping the chaos going on in my head. “Or is it that you don’t want me?”

I frowned. 

“You know I do,” I assured him. How could I ever stop wanting him? His brown eyes would always held me captive.  

I considered that, if I got both of them, if I was just lucky enough, I would have those beautiful brown eyes and those mesmerizing green orbs gazing adoringly at me every day. Could I ask for more after that?

“I just made this whole situation so uncomfortable that I don’t know how to behave around you anymore,” I admitted, the weight of my mistakes heavy on my shoulders.

His hand found mine on my thigh. Noah clasped his fingers around mine in a comforting gesture. 

“I’ll tell you how: be a good girl. I’m angry at you, but it’s nothing that won’t be solved after we talk with Oli and you… get punished.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his thin lips. 

I could only sigh and sink myself deeper onto the seat. What did that even mean?

“Come back to our bus,” he said. When I took a while to answer, his grip on my hand tightened and he pleaded, “please?”

How am I supposed to resist the puppy eyes? 

“All right,” I relented.

I stood up, only to be met with Oliver’s figure standing not far from us, frame leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“We should have hired another bus, huh?”

Noah raised an eyebrow and after a couple of seconds snorted, shaking his head as he placed a hand at my back, nudging me forward.

“One for the three of us,” Oliver mused, his eyes eyeing my casual outfit and lingering on my chest for a little longer with a suggestive glint, as if he could see through. “Just imagine how much fun we would have had on our way to the big city.” 

I looked between him and Noah, blinking. I was missing something there, some understanding between the two of them that I was not a part of. 

It was at that moment, with the chill of the January morning creeping in through the cracks of the bus and the look the boys shared with each other that I realized that maybe, very maybe, I had been wrong all along, but… could there really be a chance that... things would work out between Noah, Oliver, and me?

Ignoring the racing beat of my heart and the wave of relief and joy that suddenly seeped through me, with a newly found bravery I said, “May I remind you that despite the distraction I’m being, you’re here to work, both of you?” I wanted to sound rational, and I was, but of course they found it amusing.  

“You can remind us later,” Oliver said, leaning over me to peck me on the cheek. 

 “Get going,” Noah indicated, his tone firm yet affectionate. “I’ll be there in a minute. Nick and Matt are playing Elden Ring. Tell them to hand over the controllers.”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing between the two of them. Then Noah put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder and squeezed, both their eyes on me, as if trying to send a reassurance to the apprehension taking hold of every nerve on my body. 

Not long after 2pm, we arrived in London, its iconic skyline piercing the sky much like the needle of anticipation jabbing at my insides as I awaited the moment of being alone with Oliver and Noah in a hotel room again. 

Our stay in the city was scheduled for three days. Under normal circumstances, I would have been looking forward to my free time to explore the city’s most wonderful streets and charming corners. However, other than the work-related stuff, nothing was going as planned, starting with the fact that I found myself not dreading to explore the city at all. My thoughts were consumed by the desire to explore something else —two men’s tattooed bodies, the seas of their skin, every imperfection and scar… 

I followed the Bad Omens’ crew into the lobby of the InterContinental next to the O2 Arena, pulling at my suitcase with one hand and typing a couple of texts to my brother while Matt handled the check-in at the reception desk. I waited for him to get the hotel card keys and hand mine, but he never approached me. 

I looked at him, confusion all over my face as I slid my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and saw him the rest of the guys head to the elevators on the left side of the lobby.    

I was about to call out to him when I noticed that Noah was still beside me, a few steps behind me. 

“Where’s my room key?” I asked.

Noah raised a hand, displaying a card. 

Despite his towering height, with the backpack slung over his shoulders, I always thought he resembled a little kid.    

“Oliver wants us to share a room,” he informed me evenly.

“What?” I sputtered, taken aback. 

Oliver and the rest of the band were not there yet. They had an interview in some radio station and the bus had dropped them off at the location before reaching the hotel, so they wouldn’t be checking in until later. 

“We’ll talk there”, Noah clarified. “If you want to have a room for yourself after that we’ll make sure you get one. It’s not a big deal.”

Truth be told, I hoped I didn’t have to get one. I dreaded sleeping between their warm bodies again, perhaps indefinitely. I knew that I was dreaming too much, but it was all I could cling to while I waited for the talk. 

During the elevator ride, I buried myself in my phone again, ignoring Noah’s presence on the other side and trying my damnest hard to block memories from last year’s tour when Noah had nearly fucked me against the elevator walls in some hotel in Las Vegas before we could make it to his hotel room. 

When the door of the suite opened after Noah swiped Oliver’s card on the reader, I gasped at the dimensions of the room. We were welcomed by a spacious common area, complete with a sofa, a dining table, and a massive TV that we were not going to use. Passing through white French doors, we were met with the bedroom. The pièce de resistance? The king-sized bed positioned in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Thames. All I could suddenly think about was… probably the same Noah was thinking as our eyes met after they’d landed on the huge bed. 

I could have felt embarrassed. Instead, somehow, I managed to offer him a sweet smile that he reciprocated. 

In silence, we began to unpack, though I refrained from unpacking too much, considering that the veredict of our current situation was still to be decided. 

Noah retrieved some of his electronics from his backpack and returned from the common area to find me standing by the large windows in the bedroom, looking down at the river.  

“Why don’t you take a nap?” He suggested, his eyes betraying his concern. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping properly.” 

I sighed. “No, I haven’t.”

“Sleep,” he urged gently.

“Are you staying?” I inquired, looking in his eyes in need of reassurance. 

“Yes.” Of course, his eyes said.

We stared at each other. When the emotions grew too big, I removed the distance between us and stood on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

He hugged me back, sinking his face in the crook of my neck, and the gesture felt like a soothing balm. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or strip him off his clothes. 

It must have been the same for him because I felt him tensing after the hug went on for too long. When he pulled away, he adjusted his pants before I managed to take a quick look at the spot. Guilty.

He urged me to rest for a while again. Oliver wouldn’t take long, he said. 

As sleep claimed me, I found solace in the thought of waking up to both of them in the room.  

Their voices reached my dreams, coaxing me awake. 

I stirred in the bed, stretching my muscles before lifting my head from the comfortable pillows and looking over my shoulder, towards the origin of the sound. The doors to the bedroom were slightly ajar, and I could see their silhouettes through the open space. Noah was seated at the table with a cup of coffee cradled in his hands while Oliver leaned in close, practically with his ass on the table as he talked to Noah, his thigh very close to the hand Noah was holding the cup of coffee with. Oliver had another one in his hand. They spoke slowly, softly, as if they were lifelong confidants. I lingered in the quiet, watching them, taking advantage of the fact that they hadn't noticed I was awake. I was captivated by the way Oliver would occasionally smile at him, and how Noah's eyes would sparkle. 

I sat up in bed as a surge of warmth flooded my senses. Before revealing myself, I hurried to the bathroom on the opposite side of the bedroom.

When I emerged, their voices had died away, and I could hear them moving about the room.  

With hesitant steps, I opened the French doors, my eyes falling first on one man and then on the other. 

"Hi," I said in a slurred voice. 

Oliver was pouring hot water from the kettle into another cup and Noah was hanging one of his winter jackets in the wardrobe by the entrance.

“Hi there, sleeping beauty,” Oliver greeted. 

I accepted the cup of tea he offered and thanked him with a shy smile as I brought the cup to my lips, making sure it wasn’t too hot. Lemon tea.

“Are you okay?” Noah asked with a frown, getting closer to lift my chin with two fingers and scrutinize my face. “Your cheeks are flushed.” 

“It must have been the heating in the room,” I explained, gesturing towards the bedroom. 

The answer satisfied him for he nodded, his features relaxing. 

“Do you want to sit down?” He asked.

I instantly shook my head. 

“I will if I need to, but I rather stand while I sort this out,” I said. Both of them shared a look and locked their gazes with me a second after. “I don’t want to drag it out any longer,” I said, gulping down the next sip of the tea.

“Alright,” Oliver did sit down on the sofa, facing me. 

Noah took a seat next to him. 

Great. Now it feels like I’m back at uni, about to start my thesis defense. 

While Oliver reclined comfortably against the sofa cushions, his arm casually draped over the sofa’s back, he nearly touched Noah, who was leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped together. 

Green and brown eyes were fixed intently on me. 

I moistened my lips and hesitated for a moment before speaking. I didn’t know where to start, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I steadied myself against the TV furniture.  

“I left because I didn’t want to,” I began.

Of course my answer elicited raised eyebrows from both.

“What I mean to say is…” I averted my gaze momentarily, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as good as I did when I woke up,” I explained. “Despite… the ache between my legs, I was sure that I wanted that every next morning, and I realized it wasn’t right. I couldn’t be having such thoughts. This,” I gestured between me and them, “is not normal.” 

I waited for them to interject, but they didn’t. Their silence encouraging me to press on.

“After our night together, I thought about everything else that happened before that, and a voice in my head told me that it had all been a mistake: sleeping with you,” I said to Oliver. His features morphed into ones of pain and then, defeat, “and then dragging you,” I said to Noah, “into this without having sorted out first what was going on between us. I didn’t want to fuck up any of our relationships; the friendship between you two, and the one I had with each of you. On top of that, we’re in the middle of a tour and I can’t help but feel that I’m a burden and a stupid girl for dragging both of you into this mess. And then…”

“Then, what?” Noah pressed; his eyes suddenly alight. He could sense what I was about to get into. He could sense it very well, and instead of the expression I had expected from him, —the look of fear—, he seemed to be… excited?

“Then I focused on what I was feeling, on what I feel and…” I took a deep breath, gathering the courage. “I want you both. I’m sorry for what this means, but I don’t want to lie or hide it. After I took on your offer of sleeping with you, I thought that once it was done, nothing would change, or that whatever pleasure I was seeking would be satisfied, that we would have fun… but it wasn’t just that, and things did change. I had all day to think and to come to terms with my feelings. After spending the night with you, I can safely say that I want more. Not just sex. I want more of you, of both of you. Anything you want to give me. I’ll take everything, the good and the bad. I just… need you like I never thought I would, and I’m sorry for it.”

As I finished my confession and realized how much I had needed to hear my own voice say it, I couldn’t bear to meet their eyes. The pounding of my heart drowned out any other sound.  

There was a minute of silence that stretched painfully, each passing second amplifying my discomfort. I wished the ground would swallow me whole. That was the most excruciating minute of my life. 

“First of all, fuck normal,” Oliver said. “Second, yes, this is a mess, but I fucking love this mess if it means I get to have you at the end of the day. I want you vocal and naked,” his words were a firm statement. “That doesn’t seem too hard to me, does it?” His gaze shifted to Noah, the question also directed at him. “I also told you last night that my feelings for you have been more than just those of a friend since a while now. Did you hurt me by sleeping with me and Noah and leaving in the morning? Yes, you did. Do I resent you for it? No. We’re here talking things out like fucking mature adults. I only expect you not to make that a habit, otherwise we will have problems. As for everything else concerned,” he shook his head and raised his hands, “I had my time to think about it, too. And I felt fucking fantastic as I fell asleep next to you two.” His eyes landed on Noah again, who wore a mix of guilt and satisfaction on his face. 

“Noah?” I mumbled his name with a sense of urgency and fear. 

“Tell her,” Oliver ordered him, his voice suddenly demanding. “Tell her those damned three words, man. You’ve waited long enough. Don’t make me kick your arse.”

Noah hesitated, his eyes darting from Oliver to the floor then to me and all over again. 

“I love you,” he confessed with his brown eyes boring into mine with a vulnerability that I had never seen before. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than I care to admit.”

“He isn’t the only one that does, doll,” Oliver added, his voice resolute yet tender. 

That was not what I had expected at all. 

Yet, I fell to my knees. 

Immediately, Noah and Oliver rose from the sofa, coming to me, hand trying to grab me to get me back up. 

“Hey, hey. What is this?” Oliver asked.

“Come on, no need for…” Noah started saying.

But as I fumbled with the zipper of Noah’s jeans, confusion clouded their expressions as they froze, realization dawning in their eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Noah asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty. 

“Showing you how much I love you both, too,” the words slipped from my lips as my hands moved instinctively, pulling down Noah’s jeans and swiftly unbuttoning Oliver’s, “and starting to repay you for my mistake of leaving the bed without talking to you. I won’t do it again, I promise. Just… I want this to work.”

“It will,” Oliver affirmed, “as long as we keep communicating with each other,” confidence dripping from his lips.

Beneath my touch, I could feel him growing aroused, hard. I glanced at Noah from my kneeling position.

“I was worried that I had fucked everything up by making you share me with Oliver,” I told him honestly.

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he replied firmly. “I’m a grown man. I make my own decisions. Besides, I wouldn’t have agreed to share you with anyone unless I was certain that the other person cherished and valued you like a goddess.”

“Noah and I have already talked about it. We’re on board with this, baby,” Oliver added. 

My heart was going to explode, but I felt a pang of frustration at how ahead they were on this and how behind I felt. 

“Why is it that you two always have these talks before the three of us are lone?" I grumbled; my frustration evident. I pulled down Noah’s boxers to free his erection. He let out a sigh of relief.  

“We would’ve had this conversation as a trio in the morning if you hadn’t disappeared,” he interjected, already breathless, his focus wavering.  

He had a point. 

“Moving forward with this,” Oliver continued, “means you’ll accept your punishment tonight. Are you ok with that?”

“Yes, you can punish me,” I replied as I slid down his underwear. Oh, the view in front of me. A sight to behold. “I accept my punishment; you can do whatever you want to and with me as long as I get to have both of you.”

“Those are big words,” Noah remarked. “Are you sure you’ll be able to take it?” His hips pressed forward. I wrapped the fingers of my right hand around his shaft while reaching for Oliver’s cock with my left.  

Their synchronized moans were music to my ears. 

“I can take both of you,” I asserted confidently with my chin up. Hadn’t I proved it already? I tugged at them, drawing two beautiful, restrained groans from both. “So yes, I’m sure.”

“Oh, the kitten is feisty,” Oliver sang. “What should we do about it, Noah?”

“Open your mouth,” Noah instructed to me, his voice husky with desire. “Show us how vocal you’re going to be from now on, and then we’ll decide what to do with you next.”

And that I did. 

Not even ten minutes later, I was cleaning the last remnants of Oliver’s and Noah’s release from the corner of my lips with the back of two fingers, still reeling from the intoxicating taste of them. 

Oliver lay sprawled on the sofa, one hand pressed against his forehead, his pants still unbuttoned.

“My soul has left my body,” he mumbled weakly.

With Oliver’s words hung in the air, I could still feel the ghost of Noah’s hand on the back of my head, his fingers grazing my hair gently before guiding me towards him, whispering a restrained ‘good girl’ as I took him whole. I could still taste Oliver’s release in the back of my throat, accompanied by the memory of his passionate wail as his legs trembled with the intensity of his orgasm. 

I rose from where I’d been kneeling, steadying myself with a hand on the nearest chair as I still felt dizzy. Despite my spinning head, I fought back a laugh at Oliver’s comment. It hadn’t been my intention to leave them drained before the show. 

“I’m not sure how I’m going to perform tonight,” Oliver admitted with a wry smile, his exhaustion evident.

Whoops. 

“That was a killer blowjob, baby,” Noah’s voice cut through the air from the main bedroom of the suite as he emerged from the bathroom, a wet face towel in hand, pants on and glorious cock tucked away. Before heading towards his suitcase, he planted a kiss on my lips. “You okay, man?” he inquired, addressing Oliver over his shoulder. 

“I need a minute,” he replied. 

Turned out he needed five. After pouring myself a glass of juice from a bottle I found on the mini fridge, I offered one to Oliver, who accepted gratefully. Noah declined, opting for water.  

“I should head to the venue,” Noah announced as he checked his phone. “I have a couple of messages from Folio. They’re already there.”

“I should head there, too,” Oliver said, finally standing up. 

“I will stay,” I interjected, earning their attention as they collected their things, “at least for a while. I need to get some work done on the MacBook, but I’ll make sure to be there on time for the shows,” I explained with a smile. 

Oliver nodded and headed towards the bathroom while Noah placed his suitcase on a bench and retrieved the Adidas boots he wore during the show. 

“I’ll see you in an hour, then?” Noah asked. 

“I’ll ask Matt to let me join him in the sound deck.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he replied. 

He approached me, sliding his iPhone into his pocket before stopping right in front of me. I looked up at him, expectantly. He moved the hair away of my face with tender fingers and bent down to kiss me ever so slowly. I couldn’t recall having been kissed by Noah like that ever before, so I melted in his arms. 

I heard him whisper the three magic words against my lips, a hint of shyness in his tone, but he said it nonetheless, and I had to remind myself that this wasn’t a dream. 

“I love you, too,” I whispered back.

I didn’t miss the way his smile lighted up his face as the withdrew from our embrace. My body instantly missed his touch, his warmth, his scent. 

“Do I look like a just experienced a mind-blowing orgasm?” Oliver asked from the bathroom door, drawing a circle with a finger in the air near his face.

“Yeah, you do,” I responded with a smile and an apologetic expression, “but it just makes you look more delicious. Perfect for the show.” 

He laughed, dropping his head, perhaps feeling a bit shy? 

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, standing in front of me. 

He cupped my face and kissed me. His kiss was deeper, more intense, harder than the one I’d just shared with Noah. I loved it just as much, realizing that from that moment onwards I couldn’t bear to live without either of those kisses.

“I love you,” he said. I was going to reply that I did, too, when his words brought a rush of dizziness to my head. “No touching yourself until tonight, are we clear?”

“We haven’t decided yet if we’re letting you come,” Noah added from the door, before stepping out into the hallway.  

“One thing is for sure: you’re in for a few spankings; you’re getting tied up and we’re going to edge you for a good while until we’re satisfied with your punishment for leaving the bed yesterday morning and not talking to us.”

Oh dear.

“Great,” I muttered.

“No rolling your eyes. Be good,” Oliver instructed, pointing a finger at me. 

He grabbed his phone and wallet from the dining table, and with a mischievous grin, he closed the door behind him, disappearing with Noah from my view. 

Two seconds later, I let myself collapse onto the bed, closing my eyes with a smirk of satisfaction on my lips, the whole sentiment etched on my face. Nighttime couldn’t come soon enough.

My heart swelled with pride as I watched them from the center of the arena, Noah’s and Oliver’s figures tiny in the distance but looming on the screens flanking the stage, commanding the attention of thousands and stirring a fervent response. Watching them lead the crowd together in ‘Antivist’ was astonishing. I was so proud of them. Of us, actually. Every time the stage lights fell on them and illuminated them, I felt as if the universe was repeating to me over and over again that those two men were mine, and that I was theirs. 

It was hard to believe that forty-eight hours ago, things had been so different. After the events that my conversation with Noah had led to, I had been flooded with insecurity and fear, and a voice in my head had come very close to making me believe that I had screwed up so badly that I should turn around and go home because never everwould Noah and Oliver give in to being in a polyamorous relationship. This would never work, the voice said, and if part of me believed it would, it was because I had read too many books. 

But look and behold, reality often surpasses fiction. And watching them perform, knowing that they loved me and that we were going to give this a chance, that we were committed to making this work, I felt complete. I was no longer alone to grasp with my conflicted thoughts and emotions. We were three, now. 

These two men, with their music and their love, were mine to cherish and adore.

The rough and complicated start we had endured seemed like a distant memory, and it was just overshadowed by the promise of bright and beautiful days to come. 

By the time the clock struck midnight, I was already a whimpering, trembling mess splayed on the bed. My throat parched, breaths ragged, and legs shaking. I had just been denied my fourth orgasm, and even though I would be lying if I said I hated it, I found myself in a state of overwhelming overstimulation. 

Lost in a haze, I couldn’t even discern which one of them was between my legs. 

As soon as we came back from the venue, I was promptly tied up and blindfolded. Again. Noah and Oliver decided to take turns swapping their place between my legs and working me up, first slowly, gentle laps of their tongues and soft rubs from their fingers inside of me, then fastening their pace, heating me up, driving me to insanity every single time they took me to the edge and then withdrew, leaving me whining their names and crying for release, their wicked laughs the only thing I could hear amidst my own desperation. 

In my delirium, I really couldn’t tell anymore whose tongue was on me, whose teeth was nibling at my pebbled nipples.

“Feeling punished enough, love?” Oliver asked from the foot of the bed, giving himself away after one last flick of his tongue that wasn’t enough to make me fall off the edge. Damn him. 

I couldn’t manage a single word to tell him how I felt. 

Noah’s fingers moved the hair away from my face. Despite wearing a blindfold, I doubted I could have bear to open my eyes. 

“I think that’s enough,” he said. 

“Getting softer, huh?” Oliver teased him.

“Nah, she’s shaking. I don’t want her to pass out on us if we keep going. Let her have it.” 

“You said it.”

Their decision to show mercy on me brought a rush of sensation that threatened to engulf me entirely.  

My climax racked through my body as a hurricane, so violent that my back arched from the mattress. If not for the silky rope binding my wrists to the headboard, I might have pulled Oliver’s hair so hard in my ecstasy that I’d have hurt him. 

With sweet words whispered against my hair, Noah’s praised me, encouraging me through my orgasm, but as I began to descend from my high, he withdrew from the bed. Oliver’s mouth left my swollen center, gifting me two loving kisses on the inside of my right thigh. Then he took a seat beside me on the mattress, replacing Noah. 

“That one was for me,” Oliver said. “Now you’re going to give Noah his.”

I couldn’t grasp my mind at what he meant, but soon enough the hands that had clasped my thighs and kept me grounded on the bed were replaced by Noah’s. I felt him kneeling between my legs again. I gasped. 

“Another one?” I managed to breathe out. My mind had still not come down from my euphoric high and they expected me to…? “I—I don’t think I ca—"

“You will, kitten,” Noah asserted, draping an arm across my hip and stomach to keep me restricted to the mattress. “I know you. You’re going to give me mine.” It was an order. 

Two nights ago, I had damned them both for denying me release in their mouths. Yet now, despite this being a punishment and my exhaustion, their actions felt like a reward. I resolved not to complain, no matter how powerless and lost I felt. 

I remained silent, holding my breath, as Noah slid his slender fingers in, easily navigating through my so embarrassing slickness. He quickly found that sweet spot that I loved having touched, and he started licking me, once, twice, thrice, from my entrance to my clit, drawing circles around my clit until the pleasure was so high that it tore a scream from the depths of my being.  

“Don’t hold back,” I heard Oliver say, his hand on my hair, stroking it.  

For a second, I lost my all sense of rationality. I was sure I was going to pass out with the vibrations from Noah’s voice in my core as he mumbled things and his lips touched my lower lips. My first orgasm cascaded into a second and suddenly, I was enveloped in white, a sharp headache gripping me as I came undone. Fortunately, it passed quickly, and I savored every other second of my long-awaited double release. 

Gradually, Noah’s licks and gentle sucking relented, his hands releasing the grip on me and moving to my thighs, where he started rubbing his palms up and down, trying to soothe down my shaking. Oliver peppered kisses across my chest and sternum, nibbling at my chin with his stubble tickling my skin 

“Kitten?” That was Noah. He kissed the side of my knee. “Are you back with us?” 

As I searched for the answer within my mind, Oliver removed the blindfold and untied me, his touch soothing too as he massaged my wrists and kissed them reverently. Though I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes, a mumble escaped my lips as I shifted my head against the pillow. It would take some time for sensation to return to my body, but I was fully aware of the satisfaction that ran through my veins and straight to my heart, and every other feeling that accompanied it. 

The first night together, I had felt safe and cherished. This time, I felt utterly loved, and despite my mistakes, I was sure that I deserved this. I deserved these two men, and I was willing to give them my best self.  

“Love,” Oliver insisted, his touch soft as he lifted my chin, “open your eyes. Are you alright? Was it too much?” 

“Baby,” before I could muster the answer, Noah settled down on my other side, his unattended erection nudging against my side. He placed his palm on my tummy, and the warmth of his body seeped into my skin.

“I’m fine,” I replied with a smile, peering at both of them through blurry vision. I placed a hand on my forehead. “I got a headrush,” I admitted, “but I’m okay.” 

The worried look on their faces persisted. Oliver glanced down at my still trembling legs. “I’ll get you something to drink before we continue. Let Noah take care of you. I’ll be right back.”

He returned within a minute. I had shifted onto my stomach, and Noah was inspecting the light bruises on my buttocks, his fingers tracing the reddened skin with a frown. 

“Shit, that’s a nasty mark,” Oliver mentioned, eyeing two small spots turning purple on my left cheek. He set a glass of orange juice on the bedside table. “Did we spank you too hard?”

I shook my head. “I bruise too easily. Don’t worry. I enjoyed it.”

“You’ll tell us if we ever go beyond boundaries, right?” Noah pressed.

“Yes, I will.”

“Good girl,” Noah praised. “Have some juice,” he instructed, gesturing towards the glass as he stood up from the bed to position himself next to Oliver. 

Both eyed me with special attention as I sat on the bed and sipped the juice, my body feeling grateful for the light sugar intake. After draining the glass, I licked my lips, and my smirk grew as I noticed how hard his erections were, and both seemed to be pointing straight at me. 

How wonderful that they were mine and mine alone.  

Noah gestured for me to approach him with a finger, his gaze narrowing with anticipation. I crawled on the bed towards him, swaying my hips playfully, enjoying how desired I was. With my hair falling around me, I positioned myself on all fours at the edge of the bed, Noah lifting my chin to capture my lips in a hungry kiss. Meanwhile, Oliver’s hand returned to my backside, caressing it before his fingers slipped between my cheeks, eliciting a moan from me.  

“Would you put them on us?” he asked a few seconds later. 

Noah released me, and suddenly Oliver’s hand was presenting two square silver packages to me. 

Sitting back on my heels, I tore open the first package and rolled the condom down onto Noah’s cock, his posture steady and unwavering, watching my hand’s work as a hawk. I repeated the action with Oliver. The familiarity of the task felt oddly comforting despite it being our first time.  I hoped fervently that this would become a nightly ritual from now on.  

“Ready for us, baby?” 

Instead of answering, I straightened my back and slowly parted my thighs, revealing the warmest, most inviting part of myself to them once more. 

My boys exchanged a glance with a raised eyebrow. In an instant, Noah lifted me up, prompting me to wrap my legs around his waist as he wasted no time in nudging my entrance with the head of his dick and in one slow trust filling me up. 

I was still adjusting to the wonderful sensation of Noah being inside of me when Oliver’s hands found their way to my shoulders from behind, his touch gentle as he traced a path down my sides until they settled near Noah’s hands on my butt. 

I felt the tip of his cock against my backside, and his voice softened as he urged me not to tense. It was easy for him to say, yet I was surprised at how easy I welcomed both of them inside of me, as if my own body had been waiting for it since the first time it experienced this hot burst of desire, pleasure, and… love.

Five minutes after, they were moving inside me in perfect synchronization, a relentless rhythm that drove me to the brink of ecstasy and beyond, my breasts rubbing against Noah's inked pecs, my back against Oliver's hard tattooed chest. Their alternating thrusts, a mix of withdrawal and surging in, had me moaning their names repeatedly, making me feel full of ecstasy and wild pleasure. Whenever Noah withdrew in a slow, teasing friction, Oliver would go all the way in. 

This experience was sublime, and I didn’t ever want it to end. 

"I wish I could show you exactly what it feels like to fuck you while Noah fucks you,” Oliver growled into my ear, his words sending shivers down my spine that intensified as he nibbled at my earlobe with his vampire teeth. 

At some point, with Oliver’s mouth nibling at my shoulders, clavicle, and neck, I opened my eyes and reached for Noah’s silver necklace. I could see the restraint in his eyes. I pulled at the accessory and kissed him fiercely for a long minute before releasing him. Then, I turned to Oliver, wrapping my hand around his neck and capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss that ended with me biting his lower plump lip, making him growl like a lion against my mouth and eliciting a laugh from me. 

“Touch yourself,” Noah said. He was close, so close, and Oliver wasn’t far behind. I was dying to feel them both tense and pulsate inside me. I was dying.

Closing my eyes once more, I let my head fall back to rest on Oliver’s shoulder and slid my hand down to my clit. Their arms held me securely while they stood, anchoring me in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure. I squeezed myself around them. When I heard their moans and growls intensify, I knew I had them. 

Joining their cries of release, I followed them down to the depths of bliss.

About twenty minutes later, I was lying in bed again. Only this time I had Oliver and Noah on either side of me, spoiling me and giving me cuddles and kisses. 

After the passionate crescendo we had caused while climaxing, the mood in the room was now quiet, and a lovely silence enveloped us as we looked at each other with our eyes shining and our bodies sated and spent, we felt at heaven.  

Both of their hands roamed up and down my body. Noah's fingers traced delicate lines between my breasts and down to my navel, while Oliver's traced my temple and his lips pressed tender little kisses just below my ear and on my jawline. 

It was just perfect, and the only thing that topped it was the way I sensed Noah and Oliver glance at each other from time to time, as if something new had awakened in them as well. Or maybe it had been there for a while and was finally coming to light. Whatever it was, it was obvious that all three of us were enjoying it, that all three of us were happy and wanted to be there. 

That was all that mattered.

It was past eight in the morning when I stirred from sleep. 

My head was resting on Oliver’s chest, with Noah’s warmth enveloping me from behind, his arm draped over my waist and his palm resting flat against my stomach. The sheets had become a tangled mess at the foot of the bed, leaving our naked bodies exposed in a blissful picture. When I wriggled my feet and they brushed both Noah and Oliver’s legs, I smiled at the sight. 

However, the urge to visit the bathroom was urging me to leave the bed. I could revel in his scene again in just a couple of minutes. 

But as I began to shift away from Noah and Oliver’s embrace, preparing to swing my left leg over Oliver’s broad body, a hand clasped my wrist, halting my movements.  

Turning my head, I saw Oliver, his eyes still closed, his face peaceful in slumber with Noah’s sleepy face now so close to his own. Oliver’s grip tightened on my wrist as I spoke.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I whispered.  

“I’ve heard that before,” he replied, his beautiful green eyes meeting mine as he opened them. “I’m going with you.”

“But…” It shattered my heart to think that he still doubted me; that he still feared that I might not be there if he closed his eyes again and woke up a while later. “I’m not going to leave. I promised,” I reminded him with a serious expression. “I just need to empty my bladder. Just give me a minute?”

“A minute. Then I’m coming in,” he concluded, stretching his arms, I couldn’t help but steal a quick look at his morning naked figure. Glorious. “We have shower sex pending so…”

My eyes quickly went back to his. A smirk played on his lips as his words trailed off. 

That sounded… incredibly appealing and undeniably hot.  

To hell with sleep.  

“Are you sure you’re up for it? Aren’t you tired?” I inquired. With the shows and the sex, both might be beyond exhausted, but a voice in my head said, please don’t be.

“Are you?” chimed in another cheeky voice from the other side of the bed. 

Okay, they were both up and ready. Just my luck. Hell yes.

I hurried into the bathroom with a giggle escaping my lips as I knew that they were both staring at my ass as I ran off from the bed.  

Five minutes later, Oliver pulled me with him inside of the tiled shower. I shivered as the water touched my skin, though it didn't take long to get used to the temperature and I appreciated the feeling of being under the warm water and everything that followed. Oliver's hands took the reins and, with some shampoo in his hands, he began to wash my hair, massaging my scalp and thus earning my first moan of the day. 

"You guys started without me?" Noah asked, walking into the bathroom, and letting himself and his perfectly erect, hard cock be seen. 

"Not really," I replied, reaching out to take his hand and pull him closer to me. Noah greeted me with a good smooch, his cock stroking my lower belly while Oliver's fingers went on to massage my shoulders and a delicious spot just below my neck and at the beginning of my spine. 

Never in my wildest fantasies had I ever imagined I would experience a morning like this, soaking wet all over with two fucking gorgeous men washing my hair, massaging my shoulders, my breasts, and making sure the marks on my ass and other parts of my body from their nibbling the night before were nothing to be alarmed about, treating me to my first orgasm of the morning with Noah's long slender fingers as Oliver's mouth played with my nipples and he gulped down the clean water falling from the shower jet. 

I found that washing and rinsing them also filled me with a tender pleasure. They behaved like two good, but mischievous, children, waiting their turn as I washed their hair and scrubbed their bodies, leaving kisses here and there after rubbing their skin too hard and earning me their beautiful moans, which echoed between the bathroom walls. Their jokes also added to the joy; they took advantage of the fact that they were both fucking tall to make me stand on my tiptoes every time I tried to rub the top of their heads. Then they had the audacity to ask if there was a problem every time I mumbled a curse between my teeth. Whenever I reprimanded one and the other for laughing at me, it only earned me a playful slap on my ass.

Eventually, the space was filled with our casual talks, then laughter, and finally, moaning. 

When they entered me again under the warm spray of the shower, I was sure that I was in love to the hilt with both of them, and that I never wanted to stop hearing their laughter and seeing their smiles in the mornings ever again. 

So, as I tensed around them both and their grunts mixed with my moans, I surrendered to Oliver and Noah. Their fingers tightened on my thighs, where traces of the night before lingered, and I happily followed them into the abyss.

EPILOGUE COMING SOON

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