#(look i'm sorry for the tags but i'm not taking any chances)

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty three | jhs

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 5.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS non penetrative sex. some mild angst.

AN hey :) i'm that dude sliding into ur dms after not responding to ur text for three months but i AM here with a new chapter for you all. this one, for some reason, was a doozy to write, but i hope you find something warm in it waiting for you. more to come soon! love you--and thank you for sticking along with me on this ride!

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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE: WITHOUT A GOAL

Hoseok’s hand is warm in yours. You smile at him as he tugs you from Jimin’s bedroom. For a moment that is all there is: you, Hoseok, and the singular place where your bodies are joined. You are silent, curious about where he is bringing you. 

Namjoon calls your name from within a door. 

He jogs out before you have a chance to respond. “I’ve been looking for you!” he says with a grin. 

“Have you?” 

“I need a hand organizing some of the books in the library.” Then, sheepishly, “I thought you might like looking through some of them. I was hoping you’d help me.” 

You glance between Namjoon and Hoseok, trying to read their expressions, wondering if this is some remnant of your dream or if this is simply a perfectly normal conversation. 

“Hobi-hyung!” Taehyung calls, appearing at the end of the hallway. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

You and Hoseok share a look. “Apparently we’re quite popular,” he muses. 

“It seems,” you reply. 

“Sorry—” he mouths at you, as Taehyung slips his arm through Hoseok’s and tugs him away. You watch each other until the other disappears from view. 

Looking at Namjoon shakes loose the dregs of the dream from last night—the swirling mist of early morning, the possession in his eyes—as Namjoon leads you to the library. You watch his face closely for any recognition that the person you saw in your dream is the one standing before you. But his face is open– happy, even–taking in the sights and senses around him. 

“Is there a reason you keep pulling me away from Hoseok?” you finally ask Namjoon.

“No—why would you say that?” Namjoon asks, his brow furrowing. You shrug it off. 

“No reason.”

The day speeds by in a blur, and before long you find yourself at the dinner table, crowded around with your friends. Jin has whipped up a fusion meal: gochujang parmesan pasta with a whole brown butter spatchcocked chicken. It’s rich, creamy, and zings with acid at the end of the palate. You all coo over Jin’s culinary accomplishment, which he happily soaks up.

Jimin is a little quieter than normal, but when he’s not staring at his hands beneath the table, he’s consistently glancing at you, like he’s looking for something.  You offer him small smiles when you catch his gaze. He quickly looks away. It doesn’t feel like him. You have the sense he’s standing across a bridge from you, a forest, large and looming at his back. 

Where are you, Park Jimin?

—--------------

When dinner’s done, you all stay seated for hours around the table, laughing, talking, sharing small moments from your day. Jungkook shares that he tried to find a way onto the roof, which procures a very large, very enthusiastic scolding from the rest of you, Taehyung found some paints in an unexplored closet and has begun painting in his free time, and Yoongi sheepishly shares about a new song he’s been working on, in very vague, humble terms. You and Namjoon excitedly detail your work in the library, sorting books, and the discovery of a locked box of books. Everyone is enchanted by the story, and Jungkook offers to try to break the lock with a hammer, to which Namjoon shudders deeply.  

Though you never explicitly agreed to it, it’s become a tradition that you all eat dinner together each night. As the conversation winds down, your cheeks are heated from laughing, talking, and smiling so much. The gang breaks apart, some of you shifting back into the kitchen to finish dishes and tidying after Jin’s masterpiece. You and Jungkook tag team the table, collecting remaining dishes and napkins. 

Jungkook pauses, and leans across the table towards you. 

With a smile, he asks, “Wanna stay over tonight?” He waggles his eyebrows. 

“We’ve been meaning to have a moment alone,” Hoseok cuts in. You look up from your dishrag and spray bottle to find him standing in the doorway. You wonder how much he overheard of your conversation. We, you think. Hm. “Do you mind?”

You glance between Jungkook and Hoseok. 

“I did promise him earlier,” you say with a shrug to Jungkook. 

“Don’t you worry, Jungkook,” says Jimin, who also appears from the kitchen and lounges against the door. Somehow he manages to make every position—seated or horizontal or standing—look luxurious and effortless. “Why don’t you come hang out with me tonight?” 

“Really?” Jungkook says, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah—yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Mind if I join you two?” Yoongi chimes in. He, too, has emerged from the kitchen. Jungkook and Jimin nod, Jungkook’s face reddening slightly. You can read on his face what he’s imagining: the three of them tangled up in bed. 

This is may be the first time you’ve noticed Jimin and Yoongi being so straightforward with each other. You had always noticed the way that Yoongi would watch Jimin a little bit extra carefully than the others, his eyes tracking Jimin’s movements and the immediate surroundings whenever the latter was present. Before your group agreement you had always attributed it to Yoongi’s protective side, how he looked out particularly close for Jimin, despite Jimin’s lack of need for a guard dog. It had always seemed to you to be some kind of disagreement in perception, one you couldn’t always understand. Jimin had never needed protecting, not with his quick words and sharp judgment. But now, alone, stranded in the wilderness, who was Yoongi protecting Jimin from? 

“I, um, wanted to do some reading tonight anyways,” Namjoon chimes in, poking his head through the entryway. You exchange a glance, your gaze asking what no one wants to ask aloud: Do you want to be alone? He nods in response.

With arrangements settled, Hoseok slips his hand into yours. You look down at it, a little surprised. 

“Come on,” he says, and leads you to the back of the house. 

In the bedroom, you take in the sight of what is supposed to be your room (even if you share it). The last time you were here, you were getting ready for the dinner party that changed everything. The room remains unchanged, and yet it feels entirely different than the last time you were inside. 

You wonder where that red dress went. Knowing Namjoon, he probably returned it with a careful touch to its proper home shortly after the orgy. 

Standing in this room, something in you feels older, a little more mature. That’s not the word…

—Bigger?—

Yes, like you had grown, larger, more expansive, around the edges of your previous self. Has it really only been a couple days since you left your belongings here and began wandering the beds of the house? (Officially, and with everyone’s knowledge, that is.) The distance between now and then feels like it stretches weeks, time itself stretching taut and thin, despite it only being a handful of days.

Time seems to move so strangely here, in this house, like a river, barely moving in some places where it collects, stills, and becomes cold in the far reaches of its depths. And yet, there are other days that speed by with the quickness of a white water rapid. Right now, there is a part of you that feels caught in the eddies: whipped along and holding your breath. 

“You probably just want to just go to bed, don’t you?” Hoseok says as he strips off his sweater, revealing a simple t-shirt beneath. “You must be tired.” 

You come up behind him and wrap your arms around him, standing on your tiptoes. With your head on his shoulder, you look at him in the mirror. 

“Mmm. A little. Not too tired though.” The end of your sentence remains unspoken, but still understood: Not too tired to touch you.

You catch his gaze in the mirror and hold it for a moment. He smiles. A sense of ease and affection flutters in your chest. 

After a moment, though, that warmth becomes too warm, searing into your cheeks and making your heart flutter, and you break away, your hands falling to your sides as you take a step back. 

“Almost everyone in this house has asked something of me today, but I never learned why you pulled me out of Jimin’s room in the first place,” you say. 

“Do I need a reason? I just wanted to spend some one-on-one time with you. Is that too much to ask?” 

You startle, but gather yourself.“Never.” 

You both get ready for sleep, as if there’s nothing else to do. And when you have very thoroughly brushed your teeth and washed your face twice, instead of climbing into bed, you grab the book you were reading earlier in the tree and Hoseok promptly grabs his journal. You are avoiding the bed. 

You settle on the couch by the fireplace, sprawling out comfortably. The two of you lay there for a while, both minding your own business. It feels awfully domestic. Like you’re a married couple already settled into routine. The difference is—not a single word of the page in front of you is sinking into your mind.

 The difference is—you’re burning up, your whole body tuned to how close he lies—where his hands are (they’re playing with the edge of the page)—how his foot brushes against yours—how deep his voice resonates when he apologizes for nudging you. 

The difference is—you notice every edge of him. 

“Don’t apologize,” you say firmly. 

“Sorry—Don’t? Why not?”

You laugh. “I don’t ever want you to apologize for touching me. If anything I want you to touch me.”

“You do?” He stares blankly at you. 

“My god, Hobi,” you say, rolling on your side and discarding your book. “Sometimes you can be so thick.”

“Me?? I’m the thick one? And what about you? I’ve been waiting for days for you to pull me into a closet or a spare room or—god forbid—just kiss me out there in front of everyone—”

You reach for his hand, pulling it away from his book, and into yours. For a long moment, you both stare at each other, as if waiting for the other to make a move. And then, making a decision, you both move at the same time, hands reaching for faces, lips magnetized towards lips. 

Hoseok’s hand trails down your body, slipping beneath your pajama pants. Your hand wraps around his wrist, stopping his movements. 

“But—Jimin—” He said, I’m not allowed to come.

He chuckles. “It’s so sexy when you say another man’s name in my bed.”

You roll your eyes. “Behave,” you remind him. “But I did make him a promise. And in all honesty, I have no interest in being punished again. Today was enough.” 

Hoseok’s brows raise, and for a moment you think he’s going to ask about what happened between you and Jimin, and will end up hurting himself by wanting to hear the gritty details. But instead, he shakes his head and continues. “You know, not everything about sex has to be about orgasm,” Hoseok says, raising and waggling an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” 

“Sometimes sex can just be about pleasure. Instead of trying to chase something down, like a goalpost or, um…” he searches for the words. “Like some kind of race, where the only objective is to come. It can just be about the sensations along the way. Gentle pleasure.” 

“Edging, you mean,” you say, a little bit of disappointment in your voice. You have had enough of edging in the last weeks to last you an entire lifetime. You would consider yourself the resident expert of edging, considering how many orgasms you’ve been denied since arriving at the doors of this mysterious house, though you have a sense Jimin or Jin might try to come for your title. 

“No, not quite.” He frowns, trying to find the words. “I think edging brings you right to the cliff of an orgasm and hangs you over the drop for as long as you can hold out. The thrill is in not knowing if you can hold on or not.”

“Oof, all this talk of edges and cliffs hits a little too close to home,” you giggle.

“Okay, yeah that wasn’t the best way to say it.” He smiles. “But you know what I’m trying to get at, right?” You nod. “What I’m proposing, we just get to feel each other. Make each other feel good—without running. Running towards a finish line, I mean.”

That sparks an idea in you. “Where did you learn all of this?” 

Hoseok flushes. “Oh… You know.” 

“I don’t.” 

“It doesn’t really matter. Former partners. Reading.” 

You pass quickly by the first answer and focus on the second. “You read… about sex?” 

“Yeah. Sex. Psychology. Sexual health. Namjoon is my dealer.” 

You laugh. “Your dealer?”

“My book dealer,” he grins. You nod knowingly, well aware of one of Namjoon’s favorite activities: shipping his friends books during quarantine in the city. He sent the books out wrapped messily but compactly in brown construction paper. You can picture his notes, scrawled in pencil in the margins. He hated the thought of permanently marring a book with an ink pen, but in the same moment, couldn’t shut up with his brilliant ideas, even if it was received by the silence of a page. 

Namjoon had always been the designated librarian of your friend group, and was ever enthused to coerce anyone into reading whatever book suited his most recent interest with him. He had been trying to get a book club with you all up and running for years now, and yet—

“Never thought much about what it was that Namjoon was reading,” you murmur. 

“He’s got a diverse taste, that’s for sure,” Hoseok chuckles. “So, what do you say?” He leans in close, his fingers gliding over your belly. “Want me to make you feel good?”  

You’ve never really thought about the possibility of sex without a goal, without an orgasm to reach for at the finish line. But you nod, and smile, and his fingers slip beneath your pajamas again. 

At first he just explores you, his fingers tracing around your lower lips, pressing here, circling there. He doesn’t kiss you, but lays close enough, watching your face as you try to hold it together. But you can’t help it: little gasps slip out and pattern the silence. A gentle warmth begins to build in your belly. But without the urgency, the rush, the goalpost of it all, you find yourself focusing on the sensations in a deeper way than usual.

“Hobi—” you breathe. “It feels good.” 

“Good,” he grins. You reach for him, to slip your hands into his own pants, but he stops you. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?” 

That’s when he slips a finger inside you. He begins by pumping shallowly and oh-so painfully slow. You can feel every inch of him as he slips deeper on each thrust, opening you up for him. He’s careful, deliberate. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispers. “With your mind, I want you to trace where I’m touching you. Focus on the sensation of it all. Put all your attention there.” 

His other hand wanders your body, a gentle finger tracing your collarbone, a palm cupping and pressing against your breast, swirling touches against your belly. Your attention follows his. You feel your skin brighten, warm. All of it culminates in a sensation that he’s exploring you, learning you with a careful sense of duty. You can feel his diligence. 

“I want to be closer to you,” you gasp as he adds a second finger to you. And you mean it in more ways than one. But he answers the surface request, pulling you flush against his chest, lifting your leg over his hip. Your fingers cup his face, tracing over his features. 

He builds you to a slow, radiating heat, one that sifts through your whole body. You burn like embers, flushed and gulping for air. 

“Where are my hands?” he asks gently. “Follow them. Tell me what you feel.” 

“Warm. So warm, Hobi. Like sunshine.” 

Where he touches light radiates through your skin, down to your bones. It’s sex like nothing you’ve had before. There’s a part of you that keeps wanting to shift away from the slowness and sense of it all, to grab for more, to beg him to let you chase pleasure. It is the same part that has whispered since you arrived at the mountain house: run, run. The whisper turns to a shout: run, run. But when you breathe in deep and bring your attention back to touch—his finger circling your nipple, your bare feet brushing against the soft cotton of the sheets, his lips biting down on the soft flesh of your earlobe, his fingers moving slowly in and out of you—there is a new awareness, golden and bright. 

You take a deep breath. You settle into the feeling. 

It feels like forcing open a door, hinges rusted shut from disuse. 

It is a door that leads into your own body. It’s traitorous territory. But you breathe once, then again, sinking deeper, deeper, led by his touch.

You let your hips move against him, a slow grind. His hand is now between his and your pelvic bone, and you know that as you rock against him, he can feel it too. You shift closer, so you’re intentionally pressing against his groin, your hands tangling in his hair, raking slowly against his scalp.

The closer your bodies move, the more his touches blur into pleasure against your skin, the more the lines between you blur too. This is what you had all anticipated a few days ago, right? The muddling, the mess. You had told everyone you wanted to lean into it. But as sensation bubbles to the surface of your skin, so does something else within you: something dangerously warm. Something dangerously happy.

When he groans into your mouth, echoing your own pleasure, you know you’ve gotten what you want. 

Tonight, it’s so easy to find a quiet rhythm with him. It feels like it was never any other way. Without the element of chasing down an orgasm, there’s nowhere to go except here, now. Nowhere to go except towards him. 

That’s how you fall asleep, your bodies slowly grinding against each other’s, gasping against the other’s mouth, the other’s neck, the other’s chest until sleep swallows you whole. 

-----------

When you wake up Hoseok is pressed close to your face, his eyes wide open, a grin on his cheeks. 

“Oh my god are you watching me sleep?” You roll over, away from him, sleep fogged and groggy. 

“Come here,” he rolls you back towards him. “I was waiting for you to wake up. I have something to show you.” 

With his urging, you quickly get dressed, grab some coffee and something quick to eat, and head out. You’re sure he’s going to bring you outside.

“Hobi, maybe we shouldn’t,” you say. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, a look of genuine confusion on his face. 

“I don’t think any of our stints outside were any good,” you say. “Can we stay inside today? Please?” 

Hoseok nods. “That was the plan anyways. No outside for us, at least not for a while. We’ll stay inside today.” 

You smile at him.

He leads you to the back door, but instead of going outside, he takes a turn down a narrow hallway that you hadn’t noticed before. It leads to a spiraling, narrow staircase descending down into the unknown depths of the house. Though the white walls of the passageway are narrow, as if they might lead to a basement or root cellar, the steps shine as if they’ve been polished recently. As you step onto the first step, you notice a thin carving on the edge of every stair. A woodland scene: a bear, an evergreen forest, a collection of tree-loving creatures. The wood itself is gorgeous: a reddish lumber that glows in the dim light. A delicate handrail leads your descent.

“Where are we?” 

You’re in shock that even after all this time in the house, there are still parts you haven’t explored. A dark basement is hardly something you’d like to explore alone, but you trust Hoseok, so you give him your hand and let him lead you down the stairs, trying to ignore how they seem to melt into the darkened floor below.

The sound from upstairs dampens, the voices of your friends blending into silence as you journey deeper. 

The temperature too, drops, raising goosebumps on your skin.

You emerge into a dark hallway, and Hoseok’s grasp tightens around your hand. 

“This way,” he whispers. 

There’s a doorway at the end of the hallway, a simple thing, and you know that’s where you’re headed. 

Hoseok pushes the door open and light spills all over you. 

The room that opens before you is walled by a thousand mirrors, an oak-golden floor, and a sweeping modern chandelier dangling from the ceiling. To your right, a wall of windows looks over the valleys and peaks of the mountains. Today the light is bright and warm, and as it spills over the changing leaves, you feel like you are held in the center of a pendulum. 

You’re standing in a ballroom. 

“This is it.” 

“Goddamn, Hoseok, this is beautiful.” You step away from him to wander the room. In one corner is a baby grand piano, and you run your fingers over the keys. Perfectly tuned. 

“I thought you would like it.” 

“I love it.” 

There’s something about the open space and the reverberating light that fills you with energy. 

“Yoongi showed it to me,” Hoseok says. “I bet he loves coming down here.” He plinks a key too. “Where he can play and sing without anyone listening.” He smiles fondly, and then turns his attention to you. “I thought maybe today I could give you a dance lesson?” Hoseok offers. “It’s something we could do together. You know. Without having to fight off a rabid bear or dangle off a cliff.” 

“Risk management. I like it,” you laugh. 

“But also selfishly—I was missing dancing with someone. And I’ve been working on a new piece of choreography, and, well, it needs two people. Will you help me with my little experiment?” He gives you those doe eyes you know better than to say no to. Still, you hesitate.

“You know I’m no dancer.” 

“But you’re good enough.” 

“Are you saying ‘I’ll do?’” you laugh.

“Yes, basically. But also, I wanted to do this—”

Hoseok steps closer to you, wrapping his hands around your lower back. 

You had danced with Hoseok in the past,  stepping in when he needed a hand or wanted to practice teaching a new dance before bringing it to a studio. You were decent, you could admit that, but you were no professional. 

“You just want to touch me, don’t you?” you tease. 

“Of course I do.” 

“And last night wasn’t enough?”

“Of course it was enough. And now I want more.”

“Ah…” You trail off. “I dunno. I’m not at the level you’re used to.” 

“You’re at the perfect level,” he grins. “Please? For me?” 

You sigh and nod. “Fine. But you owe me.” 

“I owe you times a hundred! Yes! Thank you!” 

He bounds away from you, before flicking on a stereo. A remix of an old waltz comes on, synths and electronic iterations dotted throughout the classical sound. He pauses, puzzling over how to start. You can see it in his eyes, all of the steps of the dance existing at once, the story of the dance, and the logistics of how to pull it out of the trenches of his mind to share with you. And then it clicks.

“Maybe we can just start out with a basic waltz? Just to warm up?” 

“Absolutely,” you say, and offer him your hand. He messes with something on his phone—speaking of, when was the last time you checked your phone?—and the song changes to a traditional waltz. He sweeps you into his arms. 

And like that, you’re off. His left hand holds your right tightly, while his right hand presses gently against your back. You’ve done this with him before, and the steps come back quickly and easily. Before you know it you’re laughing gleefully as you twirl around the room. 

You can’t help but compare it to the dream. There’s that same warmth, the way both dream Hoseok and real Hoseok had felt identical. Or no-–that wasn’t it. You had glowed identically in their presence. 

That was it. 

“I dreamt about this,” you blurt, before you can think of what you’re saying. This is the first time you’ve spoken about the recurring—and intimate—dreams you’ve been having about your friends to anyone beyond Jimin.

“So you’re dreaming about me now?” When you don’t answer, he asks, “What did you dream?” 

“That you wanted me—to marry you or something. It was some old timey thing. There was a barn. And lots of candles. And you teased me, endlessly. And you wouldn’t kiss me.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“Hobi, it was my own imagination that didn’t kiss me, not you.”

“Well dream Hobi was right about one thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“That I want you.” 

You flush, letting your eyes drift down. 

The dance comes to an end and Hobi puts the original song back on. He shows you the dance once from beginning until end, miming a dance partner in his arms, before he walks you through his choreography step by step. Tongue caught between your teeth, you follow him painful step by painful step, over and over again, until you’ve gotten the movements down. 

“Now we try it all together?” 

“That wasn’t all together?” 

At first it’s stumbling and awkward, but it doesn’t take too long for you to catch the gist and begin moving in tandem with him. As your hips roll, so do his. A perfect mirror. As you turn, he’s ready to catch you and pull you into him. As you step towards him, he steps back. 

Your bodies move as one and it feels so easy, too easy with him. The movement of the dance feels so natural that you find yourself blurting out: “You’re easy.” 

“Excuse me?” He stops moving, an incredulous laugh breaking free from him. 

“Shit, no sorry—I mean. You feel easy.” 

He tilts his head, still not understanding. 

“These past couple of days. Everything has felt so nice with you. So simple.” 

He nods slowly, finally unraveling what you’re getting at. “Yes, I, well, I agree.” He steps away to turn off the music and all at once, as the gargantuan room around you settles into silence, you’re struck by the profound quiet. Although it’s frequently quiet in the house, you usually have at least a passing awareness of the other people in it, a shuffle from the hallway, a cough from the room next to you. Now, all you hear is your breath, and his. Now, it’s just you and Hoseok. 

You nod. You’re not really sure where you’re going, what thread you’re trying to pull at. You follow him across the dance floor. 

“I’m confused that it’s so easy.” 

“You’re confused?” He turns back to you. “Aren’t these kinds of things supposed to be easy?” 

“Yes—I mean, gosh.” You run a weary hand over your face. “It was so hard. After we fucked the first time. Not hard. It was so goddamn awkward. And in all honesty, painful too.” 

Hoseok grimaces. “Yeah, I—Even though I was shitting on everyone else and, you know, the whole ass dynamic, I don’t even know how to put into words how uncomfortable it was for me too. Even though it was my own fault, I hated it. I hated every moment of it.” 

You nod and squeeze his hand. 

He continues. “It feels so stupid because I can’t even remember what was holding me back from you,” he clears his throat. “From you all, I mean, when right now it feels so easy. It makes me think that I was a complete and entire dummy.” 

You chuckle. “You were a complete and entire dummy. But then again we both were.” 

You want to say that you’ve been holding back too, but you swallow the words down. This moment, everything, him, it feels like it’s drawing short. Like it’s so fragile that at the arrival of the wrong word or touch it would shatter around you, leaving you too, broken into a million pieces. 

“We work well together, you know,” Hoseok says. “We’re good partners.” 

“It is really easy dancing with you!” 

“I don’t just mean dancing.” 

You stop. “What do you mean then?” You ask tentatively.

He pulls you close, runs his nose against your neck, nips against your ear. “I mean, I think you and I work really well together. It’s so natural it makes me wonder.” 

“Wonder what?” 

He laughs. “What it would be like to lean in—to explore this connection. To keep making it work.” 

“Well, of course–” you stop yourself. Well, of course we can keep exploring and making it work. You swallow the words, swallow the promise of offering him something more than what you can give. “Well, of course there are the others too. It feels so wonderful to be connected to you as well as to the others. Like it feels like it’s not supposed to work? But it totally does.” 

“Yeah, uh.” Hoseok steps back, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “The others. Totally.” 

You notice the tension but you’re too worried to step into it and interrogate it, lest you upset the precarious balance you and Hoseok hold these days, the tightrope between past and present that it feels like you’re constantly walking. 

“I mean it, Hoseok. It feels like this should all be a disaster but—it’s been the best part of my year.” 

You get him to smile at that. “I know. It’s been really special for me too.” The two of you grin at each other for a long moment, and then Hoseok is blinking and stepping away, moving towards the speaker to flip it on again. “Again? I think we can really get that final move down.” 

“Alright,” you sigh. “Again.” 

This time, when you go through the steps, you really feel the core of them. You understand the story behind it. You keep catching Hoseok’s eye in the mirror, and find his gaze glimmering and full of admiration. Sweat beads on your forehead with the effort of it all, but you’re exhilarated. In glances and glimpses in the expansive mirrors, you watch two bodies—bodies so familiar you might mistake them for those of a pair of old lovers—glide across the floors. Behind your figures, the valleys stretch, cavernous and deep. The mountains radiate with the kind of sun that only spills right as the seasons are in shift.

And then, you are back in the moment, trying to remember the next move, and the next, and the next. 

When he pulls you against him, he slips his leg between yours and raises an eyebrow, pausing longer than the dance calls for. The command is clear: Grind on me. 

You give a tentative swivel of your hips against him, gaze stuck to him, his form. 

“That’s all you got?” His hand on your hip presses against you, showing you the way. Showing you how to move your hips. You lean forward, so your lips are at his ear. Your breath ghosts over him, and you can feel him shudder beneath you, before his strength returns and he continues guiding you. 

“Like this,” he says. 

Sure, the move is part of the dance, but not quite like this. 

“Again,” he breathes. 

This time you shift your energy, bringing your focus to your hips. With careful deliberation, you grind your hips forward, pushing your pelvis to his, letting his thigh press up to your core. It’s the perfect amount of pressure to have you shuddering against him. 

“Fuck,” you groan. 

“I love when you have that filthy mouth on you.” 

You smile into his shoulder. His hand continues to roll your hips against him, matching the beat of the music. 

And then he shifts, his weight pulling away, pulling you with him, resuming the dance. But this is different. As you move, your bodies are pressed together without air, your lips ghost over one another’s, your fingers dig into each other’s flesh, desperate for more. When the dance dictates that he’s at your back, he presses his pelvis to you and you feel him against you. In the mirror you catch his gaze and he smirks. 

“This okay?” he whispers against your neck. 

“More than okay,” you reply. 

There’s a darkness swirling in his gaze, a contradiction to the usually sunny disposition you’re so used to. It’s a warm darkness, one that beckons you near, one that sings sweet promises of drowning oh-so gently. 

Do you want to drown?

In the next step you’re spinning back into him, and all choreography forgotten, you kiss him, hands flying to his face, pulling him down to you. He seems surprised at first, but soon relaxes into you, his arms wrapping around you, hands splayed across your lower back. Your kisses are hungry, needy. 

It’s like you’re making up for lost time. You devour each other, lips mashing together messily, hands wandering, clutching, gripping. Time slips past you like a stream. 

He begins to walk you backwards, until your back hits the cold surface of the mirror. You gasp at the cool sensation, your body split between the heat of exertion and the livening shock of the glass. His lips devour yours, his tongue scraping against the roof of your mouth. You pull him as close to you as possible and whisper in his ear: 

“I want you.” 

“Fuck. Forget the dance. Bed. Now.” 

— 

You sprint through the halls and up the stairs, laughing, giggling, Hoseok pulling you forward, forward. When he kisses you against the wall of your bedroom, you melt. When he slips under the covers with you, ignoring the knocking on the door and the sound of one of your friends calling your name, you turn into liquid in his hands. As he fucks you with his fingers, while you take him into your mouth, you hum with pleasure. 

Still at the back of your mind, the knot of a question sings: Why don’t we ever talk about what happened that night, all those months ago? It’s repeating like a chant, in tune with the sounds of pleasure that he pulls from your body over and over and over again.

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[that-was-anticlimactic]

i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.

[batsplat]

as our resident Casey expert i wonder what do you think would have happened if marc and casey competed against each other? since casey retiring is so important for marc coming into motogp im always thinking abt the what ifs...

my initial instinct with this hypothetical is always 'that sounds horrible', though I do have more thoughts and opinions about it than that! marc obviously would have loved the chance to race casey, and casey has even been one of his picks of 'guys he would've liked to be teammates with' before, so, you know, clearly something there - and he does very much respect casey as a rider. I think it's quite likely that by the time marc entered the premier class, casey had already developed... I don't know if wariness is going too far, but maybe a little bit of unease or caution where marc was concerned. marc already very much had a reputation based on his 125/moto2 track record, and some of these incidents were controversial enough that the motogp riders commented on them. so take the phillip island 2011 incident where marc rode into the back of another rider:

the valentino quote serves as a bit of a benchmark here, given he was generally pretty pro-marc. yes, casey's phrasing is perhaps a little harsher, but unsurprisingly none of the riders were big fans of marc's behaviour in that particular incident

on the other hand, it's not like casey never sided with marc. take catalunya 2012, where marc was slapped with a controversial post-race penalty:

yes, casey's main complaint was about inconsistent stewarding - but still, he believed marc had been unfairly treated here. feels like these incidents were some of the only things casey and valentino actually agreed on in those years, so that's nice

that being said, it's hard to see how casey wouldn't have his issues with marc and marc's whole approach to racing. I did include some thoughts on the teammate question here, but mainly I'm going to pilfer the relevant autobiography passage:

"if a rider doesn't care about his own safety then it stands to reason he doesn't care about anybody else's either"... there's nobody really who embodies the 'doesn't care about his own safety' maxim better than marc. he was the young rider desperate to win, and I can't imagine casey would have enjoyed actually racing him much. casey mostly didn't enjoy racing valentino, after all, who is a generally a lot more selective with his aggression than marc is (though casey did have to experience some of the worst valentino had to offer in that regard). casey talked in his autobiography about getting a sense when he just wasn't really able to trust another rider on the track, how much it bothered him - and that exact lack of respect is something that's been pretty closely associated with marc. that doesn't mean he would immediately declare marc his enemy... he'd just want marc to change, to learn, to grow up, to start treating his competitors with a little more respect. the way casey talks about young riders, there is a sense in which he has more time for them than he does for valentino - whose lack of respect casey views as more integral to who he is as a rider. valentino isn't a bully on track due to the exuberance of youth, he's a bully on track when he thinks he can use it as a tactic of intimidation. then again, marc by this measure is worse... and I think very quickly casey would have grown pretty disenchanted with how marc approaches all his wheel-to-wheel racing, especially when it becomes more and more clear marc does not feel particularly inclined to change

it's always important to remember how recent the trauma of losing simoncelli was for the whole sport, and it coloured both dani and jorge's wariness of marc... but also (in my opinion anyway) their restraint in how they dealt with him. how they tried to stop themselves from actually making an enemy out of him, in part because they'd just had an experience of harshly criticising a rider for a whole year and then having to process his death. both dani and jorge actually had more public and more serious disagreements with simoncelli than casey did, but I reckon there would have been an element of that restraint with casey too... on the other hand, his experiences with marc would have left him feeling even more alienated from the sport than he already was - at times frustrated (like jorge was) less with marc directly but more with the regulatory bodies for not holding marc back, for not giving him a race ban or whatever to teach him a lesson. that being said, marc's shamelessness vs casey's stubbornness means that if they had direct on-track encounters and casey didn't like marc's post-race response... well, I certainly think that'd end up being a pretty tense situation, even if it falls short of active hostilities

worth including irl!casey's take on marc in 2013:

which, you know. it's not just that marc's a hard racer - casey is accusing marc of deliberately wanting to make the defeats extra painful for his opponents, of wanting to not just beat but humiliate them. anyone else that reminds you of? someone who is as motivated in securing his psychological victories as his actual ones? perhaps someone who has a bit of a history himself with casey?

let's bring in valentino. it's not that casey would really have begrudged marc his friendship with valentino, and he generally kept his hatred of valentino quite 'clean' in that he wasn't conducting any proxy wars or anything (for instance, I don't get the sense the vale/sic friendship ever affected his view of simoncelli... though I have very little to go on here either way). also, if nothing else in this timeline changes, we're assuming valentino in 2013 is fairly clearly the... fifth? best rider? kinda depends where dani would have landed I suppose (casey's retirement announcement did save honda from a bit of a headache)... but anyway what this means is that valentino probably wouldn't initially have been much of a competitive threat to casey. mostly he would have been consigned to the sidelines

that being said, I doubt casey would have massively enjoyed the whole laguna seca saga. unfortunately, we don't even really know what real life casey's stance on the copycat move situation was... though if I had to guess, in this timeline I'd say his position would've been, a) marc could and should have carried out that overtake two corners later, there was no need in that race situation to take that risk, b) still, it was valentino's slight error as he attempted to reclaim the position (in what was a pretty aggressive manner, it has to be said) that led to them both ending up off-track and fuck that guy, and c) the problem with 2008 wasn't just or even primarily the corkscrew overtake and it's annoying that that's the only bit everyone talks about. of course, there's also the question of whether casey would have bought marc's explanation that it was totally by coincidence that the overtake happened there... and again, complete guesswork, but my sense of casey is that he would have assumed marc was being at least a little bit dishonest. (which, you know... laguna's not an easy track to overtake at, but marc did prove with the bradl move that he was perfectly capable of overtaking after turn 8 - might not have been planning on the off-track excursion, but he was still attempting to overtake just ahead of a blind crest that happened to feed into the corkscrew lol.) I think casey by his honda days had calmed down a bit (though he still certainly had some conspiratorial tendencies), but I also don't think it's a stretch to imagine that he would've felt like he was a victim of a joke between the pair of them... not ideal

overall though, I reckon casey's main frustrations would have been less with the move itself and more with how it was discussed. in the presser, while joking with marc, valentino does take the opportunity to get in a jibe at casey for old time's sake. there's this clip, where he directly addresses livio suppo (at ducati in 2008, by then at honda) - specifically about how both casey and suppo criticised him for that overtake. in response, suppo says something about how he's grateful to marc because they finally got payback. valentino is later asked directly about casey's complaints in 2008 in this clip, and replies with the following:

would valentino have said this stuff with casey still in the paddock? well, yes! honestly, given valentino did very quickly lay off needling casey once he had retired, there's a good chance he would have said something worse. and marc would have laughed along at the whole thing. I don't know, I just don't see casey taking particularly kindly to that... he can hold a grudge, that man can, and at a certain point he'd probably be increasingly less willing to give marc the benefit of the doubt. interesting situation though, laguna seca '13 + casey is a very juicy scenario that could play out in several different ways

but I'm guilty of burying the lede here - there's a far more obvious reason than anything I've described above for why the casey/marc relationship would have turned sour. it's the simple fact that they would have been teammates which would do the damage all on its lonesome; they have radically different conceptualisations of how that dynamic is supposed to work and would inevitably have clashed as a result. the one commonality they do have is they don't see their teammates as potential friends, which is... also not helpful! I think they'd probably initially be fine on the interpersonal level - and, actually, given how the casey/valentino relationship played out and marc's general approach to his rivalries, I can see marc/casey more or less being able to maintain a minimum standard of politeness towards each other even at their worst. like, I still think they'd be able to smile at each other and do some small talk when face-to-face, but I also think everything else would be a complete disaster. I talked a bit about how marc approaches his teammate relationships in this post - and I'm not going to rehash too much of what irl!marc got up to, but I'll include some bits relevant to casey

from marc:

related to casey:

and dani comparing the two:

we do obviously even have actual real life controversy wherein casey thinks marc felt threatened by him and forced him out of honda... and this in a timeline where they weren't even direct competitors! if this is the level of tension a test rider role can generate, then if they'd actually been teammates...? yeah, no. casey thinks that teammates should cooperate - and he thinks that riders enforcing divisions within the box are essentially doing so because they are "afraid". marc has openly admitted to lying about what parts he likes to make sure his teammate doesn't get any edge over him. this is the thing, right: marc might think casey is a cool rider, would've liked the chance to race him and even be teammates with him... but this is the stuff he did to dani, who was one of his literal idols! this is his understanding of competition - (like valentino) he might love the fight, but simultaneously he'll do pretty much whatever it takes to win, because he considers this stuff fundamentally part of the game. casey does not. to casey, this kind of victory is dishonest. any kind of gamesmanship is a sign of weakness... the victory is worth less if you're accomplishing it like that

now, hey, maybe marc would never have been able to go as far as he did with dani because he wouldn't have the kind of performance edge that allows you to definitively impose your will within the team. I think it's a popular interpretation that marc wouldn't have won the title in 2013 if casey had been there, which... I mean, I think it's true that it would have been less likely - in that in a season with that much volatility, the more plausible championship contenders you have the less likely it is that any single one of them takes the title (same goes for instance if you add in a valentino who had not gone to ducati for two years and would have presumably been more competitive in 2013). but it's not like casey would have been the defending champion and the clear class of the field... partly due to injury, he ended up finishing in third in 2012. jorge and dani didn't win the 2013 title in part as a result of their own injuries, and who knows how casey would have fared... like sometimes it's just luck of the draw really. you can be the better rider and still not win the title, shit happens. I think for as long as a more or less healthy-ish casey stays in the sport, it would have been unlikely that marc establishes quite the same performance edge as he did over dani... but, well, if anything that would have meant he would have fought even harder out of perceived necessity to win the internal honda wars

it's the kind of thing that can make a relationship quickly deteriorate, especially with a prickly character such as casey, and it's entirely plausible that dynamic would have become strained at best and horrendously toxic at worst... sooner rather than later. and the thing is, this environment would affect marc considerably less than it would casey. again, it's the fact that he relishes the fight... he's very good at shrugging off (most) criticism and thrives in that kind of tension. the emotional fatigue that this scenario generates would be painfully lopsided, where casey offers harsh criticisms and means them and is endlessly frustrated with marc's approach, while marc... doesn't really care. at least dani also had a questionable manager who was conducting behind the scenes warfare on his behalf - casey doesn't want to play these games at all. he just wants to ride a bike, and marc is never going to allow him to live in peace as long as he's an internal threat. if casey were exposed directly to all of that from marc, I doubt he'd walk away from the experience with a particularly positive impression of him

does he walk away? I think there's a decent chance that casey would have ended up so disillusioned with the whole thing that this would have been what pushed him into retirement. if he wants to get out of that mess, let's say after two years, his options would have been pretty limited. yamaha is closed off and I'd struggle to think of a scenario in which either jorge or valentino would have been particularly interested in a direct swap (also, if you're sick of being marc's teammate, you're probably not gonna be jumping at the chance to be valentino's instead). I suppose you could go back to ducati (which he did return to as a test rider so it's not like those bridges were permanently burnt), and maybe casey could do something special even with *gestures* that version of the bike. really though... I think enough would have been enough for him. regardless of the actual balance of success between the pair of them, my guess is marc wins that war because he's happier to get nasty and because he wants it more. casey has his two to four titles... he's done. let him go fishing

[zhongrin]

festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

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

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[thewidowsledger]

Gratitude

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Tags | Warnings: +18, AMAB!Natasha, MILF!reader, Natasha is 28 and reader is 36, beefy and nerdy Natasha (she has glasses and is a good cock cook too😩), blowjob (Natasha receiving), mommy kink (?), Natasha calls r 'mama'😩 r came from an abusive relationship before meeting Natasha, r has a son, mentions of cheating, physical abuse, Natasha and r met on a dating app

Author’s Note: I came up to this interview where this artist said, “When I came downstairs and the kitchen is clean and you’ve done it all, all the dishes, you better be ready to get your dick sucked.” And I was like I need to write something out of this, lol enjoy :p Nat + acts of service=😩🤲💗😜🍆 (I'm so nasty, I'm sorry bye)

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⧗

“Thank you for accepting me.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

Another kiss.

“Now, let mommy show you how grateful she really is.”

⧗

You had always envisioned yourself pursuing law school after graduation, but life had other plans. You unexpectedly became pregnant right after graduating, when you told your boyfriend of 3 years that you were pregnant, he was ecstatic to become a father. However, once your son was born, his true colors showed—he began to lash out at both you and your son and it became a living hell for you. 

He was the main provider when you were pregnant and for the first couple of years after your son's birth, he continued to support you. However, when your son turned 2, he provided less and less for you and your son, and that’s when you started looking for a job again.

You quickly pivoted to finding a job that would allow you to support yourself and your son. Luckily, you found a job as an advertising specialist, which provided you with a stable income that was enough to meet your needs and even help contribute to the household. When you had to work long hours, you would leave your son with your lovely neighbor, who was a grandmother and loved taking care of him like her own grandchild. She would always try to talk to you about leaving your boyfriend every chance she gets, she even tried to set you up with her amiga’s son. Of course you knew she meant well, but you would just offer a forced smile and a coffee she told you was her favorite to try and change the subject everytime she talks to you about it.  

Over time, your relationship with your boyfriend continued to deteriorate. He stopped helping you around the house and you would come home to find dirty dishes piling up in the sink and no food in the fridge. If there was food, it seemed like he only prepared it for himself. It felt like he was becoming more and more selfish and unthoughtful, leaving you to take care of everything on your own while he prioritized his own needs. 

He showed little to no interest in caring for your son too, often expecting you to handle all the parenting, household…everything! If your son cried, he wouldn't bother trying to comfort him and would just give him his phone while he watches TV. You didn't even know if he listened to you when you tried to talk to him about keeping your son away from gadgets.

If there was a mess to clean up, he always expected you to take care of it. He even went as far as shouting at you like a maid to do everything, showing a complete lack of empathy or willingness to share the responsibilities of raising your son.

As if it was only you who made your son? He literally put him inside you?

The breaking point in your relationship came when your boyfriend laid a hand on you. He was drunk when he got home, you asked him where he’d been and he told you, he went into a bar, out with friends—after that he told you not to ask any further questions. But the sickening perfume clinging on his shirt didn't stop you from asking if he was cheating on you and out of nowhere he came up to you and slapped you across the face. You knew at that moment that you had to leave him to protect your child from further harm. Yes, it was you who got hurt by him and if he could do it to you, he would do the same to your son. So you gathered your things and left that very night, never looking back. You also decided to leave the job you were working at, wanting to put as much distance between you and him as possible. Surprisingly, your ex-boyfriend never made any attempt to contact you or even ask about your son, as if he was relieved to be rid of you both.

Now, meeting Natasha felt like a breath of fresh air after the toxic relationships you had experienced. She was kind, empathetic, and genuinely interested in your well-being. Not to mention that she was almost a decade younger than you and was a beefy woman that has godly arms, that made you literally swipe right on sight. And behind that godly body she had a geeky side—she wore glasses, framing her intelligent green orbs, sparkling as she literally rambled about Greek mythology during your first date.

You were having a great time with her and you think you both clicked and you know that eventually that night during your date you have to tell her about your son which you were hesitant about, fearing judgement or rejection.

What if after you told her she will excuse herself to the bathroom and never come back and leave you with the bills? Or what if she will suddenly tell you that her dog is sick even though she doesn't even have a dog? Well, you don't want to assume already but these are the things you had experienced in the past when you started dating again—a lot of stupid excuses that led you to expect rejection or disappointment when you mentioned you had a son. 

However, as you gathered the courage to reveal this information, Natasha's reaction took you by surprise. 

“You have a son? That's wonderful. I hope to meet him soon.”

And you knew from there that you would let her take you to bed…not just to sleep though.

And speaking of bed you are now stretching yourself around your own bed, the memories of the night before came flooding back to you. You could still feel her lips on yours, her hands skimming over your body, her inside you. But then, the sheets where she had been laying is now cold, she is no longer beside you. You tried to look around your room but she's nowhere to be found. 

You immediately get yourself dressed soon, your mind shifting to a familiar routine—cleaning the house. Having come from an abusive relationship, you have become accustomed to cleaning as your ex-boyfriend had placed the burden of household chores on you, demanding that you clean the house, iron his clothes, and prepare his breakfast before he left for work and it has been an ingrained habit on you.

Though you were saddened by the thought of Natasha actually leaving, your instinct to still do the things you usually do every morning is a priority, and after that, you are planning to call Darcy to pick your son up and cry to her that you feared yet another date failed.

Maybe she was just embarassed to say it in front of your face, that she's not into single mothers and she was just being kind and she thought that you seemed like you haven't been laid for like what? Two years now? So she just slept with you and immediately fly off afterwards. Maybe you have to start putting a single mother warning on the dating app you have been using or maybe stop using it at all.

As you descended the staircase, a tantalizing aroma wafted through the air, causing your stomach to rumble. You strained your nose, trying to identify the source of the mouthwatering scent. Was it a rich pasta sauce or perhaps a delectable baked mac and cheese that was cooking in the kitchen? The mystery deepened your hunger, making your stomach growl even more insistently.

Wait, who was cooking in your sacred kitchen?!

Entering the kitchen, your gaze fell upon a delicious delightful sight —Natasha, clad in your strawberry-patterned apron, her beefy arms flexed as she skillfully stirred a pot on the stove, her strength and cuteness on full display. Sensing your presence, Natasha turned around, her smile widening as she laid eyes on you. 

“Good morning.” Natasha greeted you with her deep and velvety voice. 

“H-hi…”

“I hope you don’t mind me being here in your kitchen.”

Well, you literally let this woman take you in your own bed and be inside you the very same night you met…where else couldn’t she be in?

You looked around, taking in the immaculate state of your house. It was as if a cleaning fairy had come in the night and transformed the place. The floors were spotless, dishes were washed and put away, the couch cushions were fluffed and there were beautiful freshly cut roses arranged in a vase on the countertop. Your gaze fixed on the vibrant petals as you admired its simple beauty.

Natasha, noticing your gaze, commented shyly, “I brought some...for you, a while ago. I'm sorry for getting out of bed, I wanna prepare something for you before you wake up.” She smiled sheepishly, her fingers playing with the straps of the apron as she removed it out of her godly body.

Your eyes now darted to the vacuum, neatly tucked away in its usual spot and a frown creased your forehead. “D-Did you vacuum?” Natasha with her glasses slightly fogged up, nodded affirmatively, her hands busily wiping away the condensation.

“You know you don't have to do all this, right?”

“Yeah but I want to.”

“I'm sorry if my house is really that messy that you have to clean it yourself.”

“That's not what it is mama.”

You bit your lip trying not to moan right then and there with the nickname she gave you as you slowly walked up to her, thinking of some ways on how to thank her. 

Your eyes locked onto her figure as she prepare two plates for the two of you, “Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You reached out and cupped her cheek to get all her attention. You gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, your fingers brushing against her cheek.

“Baby…it’s nothing, alright?” she giggled.

“Let me thank you for doing all this.”

“Well, your welcome.” She kissed your forehead but when she was about to turn and go back to plate the pasta your hands gripped her tighter and you pushed her gently against the kitchen counter, pinning her in place.

“I thought you will let me thank you for you doing all this for me?” you frowned, looking at her with best puppy eyes you could give.

“Y-yeah…and I said you’re welcome didn't I?” Natasha’s cheeks flushed with a rosy tint, her breath hitching in her throat unaware of what you’ve been meaning to say or do.

Her eyes widened in shock as she watched you slowly kneel down in front of her, your hands reaching for the waistband of her joggers, not even wearing a boxers. She didn't fight, her body seemingly frozen in place as you pulled them down, revealing her erect cock springing free.

You smiled up at her, your gaze fixed on her cock and she felt a heat spread across her cheeks. You wrapped your hand around the base of her shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for doing all this, baby,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of her cock.

“Thank you for tidying up the house.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you for cooking for me.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you for accepting me.”

Another kiss.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

Another kiss.

“Now, let mommy show you how grateful she really is.”

Without a second, you wrapped your lips around her thickness, taking her into your warm, wet mouth. Natasha’s head fell back against the cabinets, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed your head. 

You continued to suck on her cock with fervor, your mouth stretching to accommodate her girth. Natasha’s hips bucked slightly, pushing her dick deeper into your throat. You gagged softly, but didn’t pull back, determined to show her just how grateful you were.

You looked up at her, your eyes meeting hers as you continued to suck on her hard length. Her glasses were fogged up, her eyes hidden behind the blurred lenses. But you could feel her gaze, intense and unblinking, as she watched you pleasure her.

“Fuckfuckfuck baby, sh—shit!”

As you continued to suck on her dick, saliva dripped from the side of your mouth, a small smile attempting to form on your lips despite the awkward position. You tried to grin up at her, hoping to catch her eye again through the fogged lenses.

Natasha's breathing grew ragged, her hands gripping tighter onto your hair. “B-baby I-I fu—!” she panted, trying to pull you off. But you tightened your grip on her thighs, keeping her in place as you continued to bob your head.

“Babybabybaby I’m going to…” she warned, her voice strained. You hummed in response, the vibration pushing her over the edge. She came with a low moan, her hips bucking forward as she spilled into your mouth.

You swallowed every last drop, your eyes watering slightly from the intense sensation. You slowly pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Natasha sagged against the cabinets, her legs shaking as she tried to catch her breath. You slowly stood and she sighed, leaning against you for support, trying to steady her nerves. 

“If there should be someone who needs to be thankful, that’s me,” she buried her face in your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin. “Fuck, mama is-is there something I could still do around the house?” her voice coming out a little bit raspier and low.

You took a hold of her face and giggled, “Someone wants to be rewarded huh?”

“Mhm,” she nodded with a puppy dog eyes, her lips pouting at you.

You bit your lips at her being so cute and placed a kiss on her plump lips, “You have to stop before I let you fuck me to every corner you've cleaned around here.”

The red head then blush at your blunt words, “That's what I want,” she whined as she put her face back at your shoulder, embarrassingly admitting the reason why she wanted to help you around the house. And you just can't help but giggle and place a comforting kisses on the side of her face.

“Pasta’s getting cold, let’s eat?” She offered weakly as she pull back after clinging from you for support after the lingering aftershocks of the orgasm you gave her.

“I don't think I'm hungry for food anymore, I just had my breakfast,” you said with a smirk written on your face. You wiped the remaining evidence of her from the side of your mouth, sucking your thumb clean with a satisfied expression.

Natasha’s gaze intensified, her eyes locked onto yours, in a swift second you yelped as she effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter. 

“Well, I haven't had mine, mama.” 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint.  A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none. 

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any. 

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute. 

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need? 

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir. 

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven. 

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago. 

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus. 

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy. 

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away. 

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home. 

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard. 

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube. 

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her? 

And god, how he would fuck her… 

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob. 

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.  

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of. 

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things? 

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all. 

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job. 

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up. 

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb. 

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for… 

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically. 

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present. 

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear." 

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways. 

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying. 

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?" 

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too. 

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty. 

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening? 

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress. 

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips. 

Mein.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin. 

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries. 

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams. 

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin. 

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined. 

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds. 

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for. 

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child... 

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...? 

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft. 

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go. 

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove. 

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…" 

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness. 

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had. 

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely. 

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog. 

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck. 

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content. 

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity. 

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women. 

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one. 

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in. 

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs. 

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him. 

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?" 

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy. 

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes. 

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets. 

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his. 

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness. 

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

[tiza0925]

Hi!...umm could you pls do a NSFW tanjiro x reader where reader starts to get jealous of kanao bcos kanao has started to gain feeling for tanjiro and has been trying to get close with him but she doesn't know that reader and tanjiro are secretly dating so reader ends up distancing herself from everyone and when tanjiro confronts reader they end up in a mating press+overstimulation and a bit breeding kink 😳

(Pls don't get me wrong I luv Kanao but I haven't seen any fanfictions like this and I'm sorry if this request is too much)😅

Take care 😊

only you | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, explicit sexual content, jealous!reader, afab/female reader, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, breeding kink, reassurance, Tanjiro loves you so much, multiple orgasms (implied), overstimulation, soft!dom Tanjiro, ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS ARE AGED UP AND OVER 18 YEARS-OLD

Pairing: Tanjiro Kamado x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You feel two thick fingers shove inside your mouth, the fingertips hooking onto your bottom teeth to pull your head forward to look into sinful red eyes. 

You blink blearily, tears blur your vision, and you choke with a sob as drool drips down the corners of your mouth. 

“Already crying?” You hear Tanjiro murmur, voice sweet and low, a huge contrast to the brutal thrusts he’s been giving you—fucking your sore cunt with the intent to make you pass out. “Too much for you now, hm?”

You suck in a sharp breath, moaning around his fingers, and your eyes roll back when Tanjiro leans in to have his head near your ear—causing his cock to sink in deeper that you swear you feel him in your throat. 

“I’m sorry, love, but you’ll have to hold on for a little longer,” His voice rumbles against you, rolling through your ear as his lips graze the shell of your ear. “I still need to cum inside you, okay?” 

If you weren’t currently getting fucked to the point where you can feel Tanjiro’s dick in your soul and your mind wasn’t a puddle of liquid pleasure—

You would probably laugh at yourself for being in the situation you’re in at the very moment. 

Because none of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for Kanao.

And now you’re torn between still wanting to be mad at Kanao and also wanting to give her a hug of gratitude for getting Tanjiro like this. 

Not because Kanao directly told Tanjiro to fuck you like he’s some madman. 

Instead, funnily enough, it was Kanao who was the one that wanted Tanjiro for herself. 

It was obvious with the way you’d watch her laugh at his jokes that weren’t even that funny sometimes. 

Or the way you’ve noticed Kanao would leave light touches on Tanjiro’s hand and arm—brief but still giving the message that she wants more from him—whenever you were all out on the field training. 

You’ve seen the way Kanao looked at Tanjiro. 

And honestly—you don’t blame her. 

Tanjiro is an attractive guy. 

Not only in his face but his demeanor, how polite he is. Smart, funny, and god—have you seen him without a shirt? 

So you get why Kanao acts that way—even more recently, now, as Tanjiro started to train more and grew a little taller. 

It’s why you’re dating him, in the first place. 

But nobody knows that. 

You two didn’t want to get in trouble—dating within the Corps wasn’t allowed. 

But you guys couldn’t help it. 

He liked you, and you didn’t want to lose out on the chance of having him to yourself. 

The only issue with keeping your relationship with Tanjiro a secret—

Is that people, like Kanao, will try to get with him instead. 

Because in their eyes—he’s single. 

In Kanao’s eyes—Tanjiro is available for her. 

And at first—you didn’t care. 

You both knew what would happen once you kept this relationship a secret. 

People will still flirt—it happened to you many times by other guys. 

But you were always polite to let them down—made up some lie about wanting to focus on becoming a better slayer and all. 

And Tanjiro said the same thing to Kanao once before—and she listened. 

Admired him from far away. 

And you were okay with that. 

Until—

Until Kanao started to get handsy. Gradually.  

Until her small crush developed into something more for Tanjiro—and she wasn’t so subtle about it anymore. 

You were okay with it until Kanao and Tanjiro got a little closer—and you had to sit back with your teeth pinching your tongue, watching and doing nothing about it. 

And over time—it got to you. 

It’s not that you don’t trust Tanjiro—because this man has done nothing but respect and show you immense trust and security in your relationship. 

And he never flirted with Kanao back. 

But that doesn’t mean you trust Kanao. 

Not when Tanjiro is, in general, a really nice guy. 

Nice to the point where Kanao can mistake it for flirting. 

And if you couldn’t say anything about it—because what can you say without blowing your guys’ secret? 

‘Hey, stop flirting with Tanjiro because—‘ 

Because what? You like him?

That he’s yours? 

It was futile and you hated it. 

…Hence, why you started to distance yourself. 

From a few others at first. 

But then it started to turn into you making an excuse to not talk to Tanjiro. 

That distancing turned into you avoiding him as much as you can. 

Because it hurt. 

You can’t flirt with Tanjiro in public as Kanao can 

And honestly—you genuinely thought you would get away with this whole ‘distancing thing'. 

It even got to the point where you thought that you and Tanjiro's relationship could possibly be over. 

And wouldn’t that be amazing for Kanao, huh? 

But then Tanjiro confronted you about it one night—and that…

That was something. 

The door to your dorm closes behind him as you both walk in, and it’s deadly silent. 

The tension is so thick that you can cut a knife through it, but you don’t say anything.

And for a moment—it remains silent. 

Just waiting for something to drop, to set off the bomb that’s been ticking for a while, now. 

And—

And then you hear Tanjiro let out a tired sigh, and you turn to see him rub a hand over his face as he looks at you, confused. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, now?” 

Your eyes widen, and surprise flashes through your pupils as you swallow hard, playing dumb as you avert your gaze. “There’s nothing wrong.” 

He lets out a derisive snort, sarcasm lacing his words “Really?” 

“Yes, really,” Your voice comes out flat, and you walk towards your bed while taking off your shirt. “You should go, I’m tired.” 

A lie. 

One that Tanjiro immediately detects as he shakes his head and follows you. “Not until we talk this out first.” 

That’s the thing that also made you fall for him—is how big he is on communication. 

It’s something you generally love about him—except for this very moment. 

Because talking about how stupidly jealous you are will get you emotional—you can already feel the damn lump beginning to form in your throat. 

You try to ignore him as you set up the bed, sniffling. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

Tanjiro huffs out a breath, his voice soft and pleading. “Don’t lie to me.”

You purse your lips, your teeth clenching. “You should go rest.” 

You feel him closer behind you, his body heat near yours, and his voice is so confused. “Was it something I said?” 

The breath you let out is shaky, feeling guilty for making him think he’s at fault here. 

Because he’s not but emotions are a bitch and it’s starting to get to you. 

You swallow thickly. “No.” 

Another step closer to you. 

“Was it something someone else said?” 

Your voice is a little strained. “…No.” 

“Did someone do something? Did I do something—?”

And at this point—something kind of just…snaps. 

“I don’t know,” You don’t mean to have any bite in your words, but you’re just so frustrated and overwhelmed and feel so stupid for the way you’re acting that it all just hits you at once as you sniffle, your voice cracking. “Why don’t you go ask your little girlfriend, Kanao?”

And then—

Everything turns silent. 

You can hear the soft ringing in your ears right after you say that. 

You can feel your heart thumping rapidly with regret flushing your cheeks and your stomach drops. 

Fuck. 

You didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

You feel a rough hand wrap around your wrist, and the next thing you know—

You’re being spun around—and your vision is instantly met with big, red eyes. 

And your breath hitches in your throat soon after when you take in Tanjiro’s expression because—

He doesn’t look mad at you. 

He looks…worried. 

Almost regretful in a way. 

“That’s what this is all about?” 

He asks, sounding incredulous and confused, looking at you patiently for you to answer. 

God—you feel so irrational now—

“I…” You start, not sure what to say with the way he’s looking at you like that, and you gulp. “…It’s not—”

“Oh, love,” Tanjiro sighs. Low and heavy—full with understanding once he takes a good look at you—and his eyebrows crinkle with focus as he brings you closer to him—tucking your head under his chin as he wraps his arms, full of muscles and warmth, around you. “You have no reason to be jealous of her, you know.” 

Your lower lip wobbles. “I know—”

“But,” He stops you, and you let out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner.” 

Fuck.

You close your eyes, feeling guilty for even making him have to say that because—

“It’s not your fault,” You mutter, but Tanjiro simply shakes his head, sounding firm. 

 “No, I should’ve made stricter boundaries with Kanao—which I will do when I see her.” 

“I don’t want to tell you what to do with your friends, though.” 

Tanjiro frowns and tips his chin down to give your forehead an achingly gentle kiss, mumbling against your head. “How you feel is more important to me.”

Well, that’s just not fair. 

You both stay like that for a bit—simply hugging and being in the other’s arms. 

It’s silent again but this time it’s comfortable. 

But then at some point—

“Hey,” Reluctantly, you lift your head to look at him, and Tanjiro’s eyes soften as he gives your lips a soft, gentle kiss. “You’re the only one I want, you know.” 

You whimper, feeling a small shiver crawl up your spine. 

He guides your mouth open with his, his warm tongue sliding against your lower lip. “You’re the only one I want to kiss.” 

His hands on you grow firmer, almost possessive, as he pulls you closer to him—and you let out a small moan. 

He kisses you so deeply that you feel it in your bones, and he starts to walk you towards the bed—the bend of your knees hitting the edge, causing your back to fall and land on the soft cushion beneath. 

And he follows, holding you close to him, his mouth traveling to your ear and giving it a small nip, his voice rough against you, “You’re the only one I want to be inside of, too.” 

God. 

You feel yourself throb and you throw your arms around his neck as your legs wrap around him—kissing him back just as deeply, moaning into his mouth because this is the Tanjiro that you want. 

This is what you need from him right now. 

…Which is how, moments later, you end up the way you are right now. 

Cheeks red and shiny from tears. 

Your head foggy and ready to explode. 

Body so exhausted and numb from the way he’s been fucking you—holding you down with your legs thrown over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he presses your legs against your chest—

And he’s fucking you through your third orgasm, all while you cry around his fingers, clinging onto whatever your hands can find as Tanjiro pushes down on you—groaning at just how pretty you look. 

“Only made for me, love,” Tanjiro breathes heavily, kissing one of your tears, before looking back at you with a small grin. “You take me so well.”

You whine, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth—your saliva shiny on his fingers—and he uses the same hand to wrap around your neck, putting one of your most vulnerable parts into his hand. 

“And I’m gonna make sure I get you all full with my cum.” 

That’s another thing about him. 

It’s the way he is in bed. 

He can be gentle but—

But there’s just this edge to him that makes your head spin and turn into mush. 

It’s the way he talks with words that sound sweet with the tone he uses, even if they’re filthy—as if each word has been dipped in sin-filled chocolate. 

It’s the way he fucks you with so much love and yet still manages to make you feel boneless and fucked stupid like some slut. 

And that little, spiteful, part of you grins—knowing that no one else gets to experience this side of him except you. 

Not even Kanao. 

He fucks you deep and slow, your fluids gushing out and getting both of you so wet that you can hear the sweet squelch of your pussy getting abused by his cock. 

Your clit is overstimulated from his body rubbing against it with every thrust—that your muscles tense and heat is constantly sparking in your lower belly.

He goes until he starts talking about breeding you—filling your sweet cunt with his cum and keeping it there until your belly is full with his babies and—

“God, love—”

And then you hear him groan, and Tanjiro kisses you as soon as his orgasm pushes through him—and he’s pumping his cum inside your pulsing cunt, filling you to the brim. 

It’s messy. 

You’re both so goddamn messy and out of breath by the time he cools down. 

But you don’t care. 

Even if your pussy is sore and wet and you know you’ll need a shower right after this—

And even if his breathing is heavy—hell, he feels heavy on top of you—

You like it. 

It’s welcoming. 

He kisses you again, this time slow and indulgent, and you feel yourself go numb at his words that get murmured right against you, “I’m all yours, okay?” 

End. 

Masterpost

[pedrospatch]

baby, i’m yours

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

[atebyflowers]

puppy | E.W

first time writing full smut . . so be gracious pls. i don't rmb ib . . so tag if u do lol — cw: sub!ellie, loser!ellie, fem reader, both afab, sex (duh), slight dacryphilia, fingering, cunnilingus, mommy kink, scissoring, cum eating, dom!reader, lol lol okay . . think thats all 🐈‍⬛ UNEDITED so ignore errors ty

"I need her so bad.” you say as you drag a cigarette between your lips, digging through your pockets in search of a lighter. The evening was loud, you and Dina has stepped out of the house to break from the over crowded party — the whether damp and gloomy making it look like midnight already. You groaned as dina took the cigarette out of your mouth, lighting it as she grew impatient waiting for you to finish digging through your pockets. "Did you even hear me?" You scoffed standing up to grab the now lit cigarette from her hands. Dina rolled her eyes at you, slightly laughing at what she thought, was your stupidity. "Shes to innocent for you babe" she replied after blowing out the smoke. "Yea? I'm sure nobody's that innocent. ." You replied taking another inhale from the cigarette. “You remember when i had to tutor her on sex ed?!" Dina laughed louder though her words, you scoff “that means nothing, maybe she needed help finding-" Dina cut you off with an even louder laugh, you rolled your eyes once again and shoved past her — stomping on the cigarette as you walked back into the house.

It was your sophomore year of college, at first — you were dreading moving back into your dorm the moment you found out you would have to move into a double this semester. Lucky for you, that all changed the moment you realize who your roomate was. Ellie. . the girl you've been practically obsessed with for as long as you can remember. God was she a fucking loser—but you loved it. The way she subtly watched you in admiration thinking you never noticed, the way she'd follow you around like a lost puppy whenever you hanged out in large groups . . She was an addiction to you — and you needed more. With her bed right across from yours, your mind spiraled with the ideas of her every time the sun set. When you finally fell asleep, all you could dream about was the way she’d sound underneath your grip . . fuck it killed you. You knew ellie was inexperienced, definitely not innocent like dina described it . . but she had never been with a girl the way you had been with a girl — you hated it, but we're also obsessed with the idea of being her first full body.

standing in front of the door to your dorm, Dina scoffed before you turned around to face her. "Suddenly you're nervous?" She questioned looking at you with an attitude, "I'm not . . fuck off dina" you responded. It was midnight now, actually midnight, and the two of you finally made it back to campus. Clothes drenched by the sudden storm — you turned away from the black haired girl and pulled out your dorm key. "I'll be praying for you, but i still don't think you have a chance!" Dina said, walking off before you could respond. You sighed heavily leaning your head back before you fully unlocked the door walked inside shaking your head. You hang up your soaked jacket and lift off your T-shirt leaving a tank top underneath. Throwing the wet t-shirt into your laundry hamper, you're caught off gaurd by the sounds of groans.

"Els?" You question walking into kitchen, making her jump. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you . . But you're really loud" you laughed. Ellie sighs through a laugh and turns back to her papers placing her pencil down on the counter. You walked closer to her, studying her expressions in an attempt to read her feelings. Watching her for a few moments in silence, you view her furrowed eyebrows as she chews on the eraser of her pencil. Moving even closer to lean over her shoulder, your breathe against her skin catches her off gaurd. "Need any help?" You question, slightly dragging your fingers up and down her exposed arms. Ellie smiled to herself before responding, "like you could help me" she scoffed sarcastically and you frowned "what is that supposed to mean?" You questioned, and ellie turned around to face you, you — backing up slightly so your eyes could meet once she's adjusted in her chair. "I just mean . . you know, I'm smart. . It's okay" her words made you laugh, "oh I know you're smart baby, but you look so stressed" you said patting her head, nearly petting her as she blushed at your response. "so pathetic" you thought in your head, your

teasing was ever so slightly, yet just enough to make her a re mess. Standing just above her, Ellie's eyes uncontrollably meet your chest — staring for a moment before she catches herself and looks away. You giggle as you watch her, causing sudden embarrassment to flush over her. "My eyes are up here" you said lifting her chin to face you, "i wasn-" Ellie's voice was shaky as she met your eyes again — nearly trembling over how close you two were. "I'm sorry" she barely gets out through a voice crack. You bite your lips hiding a smile as you look down at her, caressing her cheeks with your thumb. You hummed, pulling your body on top of hers in a straddle position—ellie's body slightly shocked by the sudden contact. "Look at me" you said as she tried to look in any other direction, before obeying your words and looking up at you. "have you done this before?" you questioned her remaining eye contact, your softer now — somewhat soothing her firing anxiety. Ellie shook her head, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights. You chuckled, still soothing her cheeks with free hand — the other one caressing her thigh. "Have you thought about it?" You asked her bluntly, your voice just barely above a whisper as your faces were now closer than ever — lips Barry just brushing over eachother as ellie did nothing but whine in response. "use ur words baby . ." You responded, using your free hand to grab her jaw, forcing eye contact. "Yes" she stuttered through her response and you smirked, her breathe heavily filling the room already. "Tell me then . . . have you thought about?" You whispered again, eyes now on her lips.

"you . . I've thought about you" she blurted out, your eyes dragging up from her lips and onto hers. those words was all it took for you to pull her up, making her stand with you as you dragged her over to the living room and onto the couch. obediently, she sits down on the cushions as you tower over her — watching her fidget in her seat before you move to straddle her again. holding her chin with your hand, you pull her lips into yours aggressively — guiding her hands onto your waist. Ellie grips your sides as you slightly grind yourself against her — the small friction sending her into a trance. struggling to focus on your lips, distracted by her desperate attempts to feel you — you pull away from the kiss giving her a moment to breathe. "What do you want me to do?” you whisper, your breathe brushing her lips. Ellie whines and you grip her chin harder, "use your words . ." You add onto your words, causing her to whine again and choke out a response. "please . . touch me" she says softly — you smiling at her words.

pushing her down onto the couch, your mouth is on her lips again — even more aggressive then before, and Ellie wines as you make your way down her body. Dragging down her bottoms, you gently brush your hand over her boxers — ellies breath growing heavier with every touch. slowly enough to make her whine, you pull down hee boxers and push your hand up her body before dragging it back down. "

“You’re so pretty” You whisper, ellies eyes fluttering as her face grew red. "has anyone else ever seen you like this?" you questioned with your hand caressing her thigh again, your eyes watching it before you move them to look at her. ellie shakes her head before letting out a quiet "no", her response making you smile as you dragged your hand from her thigh onto her cunt, a moan escaping her lips in response to the sudden pleasure. Her desperation has you over the edge. She's a mess as you continue to rub her clit before bring your mouth down. your tongue gently moving up and down causes desperate 'pleases' to escape her mouth. Looking up at her with your head still between her legs, you move your down to her entrance. Without warning, you push two fingers into her cunt slowly — the suddenness causing a loud "fuck" to come out of her mouth.

"so perfect" you whine out, leaning down to latch your mouth into her clot — sucking onto it as you speed up your pace. fingers pumping in and out of her, ellies moans filled your ears — causing your own pleasure to form below. "f-feels so good. ." She whines out, her voice breaking as she attempts to hide her moans. Her words spark something within your body, making you increase your pace — the wetness between your mouth still sucking on her clit, and the juices spilling from ber cunt, causing you to moan into her. "I'm gonna-" she attempts to speak but cuts herself off with another loud moan.

"Not yet baby . . wanna hear you" you breathe out louder than before, removing your mouth for a slight moment to speak before pushing yourself back into her. she was an addiction, her sweet taste making it nearly impossible for you to stop. Tears spilled from ellies eyes as she attempted to obey your commands, grinding her hips into your face and fingers — she was entirely overwhelmed. "p-please, please let me cum.” She cries, her new tone causing you to smile to yourself.

Removing your mouth from her, your fingers still at a steady pace, you lean over her and use your free hand to grab her face harshly. "Say it again" you instructed her, her eyes still filled with tears as she practically yelled out her response. "Please- please mommy, please I need it.” Her words sending electricity throughout your body and you grow needy. With your own wet spot grown on your shorts, you remove your fingers from inside her causing her to whine loudly. Moving the fabric aside, you push your body onto hers. Careful not to waste time, you alone your clit with hers — holding her body down just enough for you to aggressively grind against her. The two of you moaning loud enough for whoever might be walking by the rooms to hear, shamelessly shes yelling your name as you fuck her ruthlessly. "it's . . Too much please, please y/n" she whimpered out, you aggressively pushing yourself down onto her harder, "take it baby . . you're doing so good. ." You responded, your tone sympathetic to her cries. ellie attempts to grind herself against you, desperate to put work in. "I need to cum, please let me cum, it- y-you f-feel so fucking good" she cries out louder than ever and you can feel your own release coming on with every grind against her soaking clit. "Cum with me baby . . . cum with mommy" you ordered in a husky tone, your voice alone being enough for her orgasm to come over her.

Before she could come down from her climax, you lifted yourself off of her — a string of your releases trailing off of your clit as you shifted your body down once again, pushing your mouth into her cum filled cunt. Ellie whimpered as you took her in, savouring her taste and sucking on her ever so slightly — being cautious of her sensitivity. Releasing your mouth from her body, you looked up at her — her hair a mess and her eyes still watery as she attempted to catch her breathe. You began kissing up her body until you reached her face, caressing her body up and down gently, she did the same with what strength she had left in her. "such a good girl" you whispered out, your eyes meeting her reddened face causing you to smile. "mmmm . ." You moaned into her lips as you pulled her in for a more gentle and passionate kiss.

"you did so good baby" you said barely moved away from her lips, "so so good" you added on, caressing her blushed face as her eyes — still dampened from her heavy tears, fluttered tiredly in response to your praises.

[astonmartinii]

into the arms of another part two | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x reader

part two to this !! part three

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, maxverstappen1 and 661,230 others

yourusername: winner winner chicken dinner !! congrats maxy i’m so proud of you always

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user1: i know charles’ head is hot right now

user2: i hope netflix are taking notes cause this tea is steaming hot

maxverstappen1: thank you baby, helps when i have the prettiest cheerleader in the world

yourusername: i am the sexiest sargent in all of the orange army

maxverstappen1: too right you are

user3: i miss when y/n was the head of the tifosi the red monochromatic fits ate so hard

user4: i need charles to pull his head out of his ass and apologise so we can reclaim her before monza

user5: do not even bring up the fact we may not have custody of her for monza

danielricciardo: leave some for the rest of us maxy

yourusername: no actually i think it’s illegal for max not to win sorry

danielricciardo: will that change if charlie apologises?

yourusername: considering that hasn’t happened and doesn’t look to be happening any time soon - no.

user6: CHARLES PLEASE DO SOMETHING

user7: he doesn’t have to do anything, she’s just bitter cause she’s always been the bridesmaid and never the bride. we ALL know she’s always loved charles and she can’t handle that she’s not the centre of his attention it’s kinda pathetic

maxverstappen1: what made you think you know any of us enough to comment something like this? what told you that you even had a right to talk about y/n like that? she’s everything you could ever wish to be and more and she will never ever deserve the things you people are saying about her. charles would be lucky to have y/n in his life platonically or romantically but it’s his loss

user8: boyf of the year right here

user9: charles take note ^^^ this is how you’re meant to defend your best friend

landonorris: i am once again asking for photo credits i’m not gonna be your personal photographer for free

maxverstappen1: i literally paid for your dinner

yourusername: you’re literally a millionaire

landonorris: i don’t care a man still likes to be wined and dined

yourusername: just to make it clear we are not looking for a third

user10: i promise i can change your mind give me a chance

f1tea

liked by user11, user12 and 2,349 others

f1tea: charles leclerc caught liking this tweet about the situation between him and y/n. seems like he won’t back down on this. what do you think?

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user13: i need this mans head on a spike i’m so serious

user14: i want to play pinball with the single marble in his head

user15: i think ferrari have genuinely caused real head rot in him cause no way he thinks this is a serve

user16: let's be real charles' biggest rivals are ferrari and himself

user17: not this man at his BIG AGE is liking shady tweets about his best friend

user18: i think it's safe to say they're not best friends any more

user19: also "biggest rival" my ass max and charles are fucking friends now so this whole narrative is complete horse shit

user20: i'm so bored of charles playing the victim bro YOU ARE THE INSTIGATOR YOU ARE THE PROBLEM

user21: the way charles is liking shit like this but max is writing whole ass essays in the comments defending her

user22: and that''s why i'll always back that she ended up with the right man

user23: max is so far in the lead in the championship i need him to take charles out for the narrative

user24: are we in high school? like seriously this is so fucking petty i cannot wait for media day this weekend

user25: he's either gonna be the funniest man in the world or he's gonna bite someones fucking head off

user26: and i'll back it either way

user27: i know y/n is about to have her revenge dress moment in the paddock someone get kym illman ready STAT.

f1wagsupdates

liked by lilymunhe, carmenmundt and 4,530 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: REVENGE DRESS MOMENT !!! y/n y/ln enters the paddock in monza in this stunning black dress, showing the world what a catch she is, oh and that is max holding the umbrella for her, what a gentleman.

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user28: mother came to slay i cannot even

user29: this right after max came for charles in the press conference is PERFECTION + NO RED IN MONZA !!

user30: i see lily and carmen in the likes in knew they'd be on the right side

user31: girl i don't think anyone is on charles' side

user32: yall see the stink eye from the red bull garage when charles walked past they have y/n's back LOL

user33: the red bull garage been ride or dies for max so it defo makes sense that they would extend that to y/n

user34: christian was defo waiting for a question about it in the press conference

user35: someone on twitter got a clip of him putting his arm around fred going out of the paddock and telling him to get his driver under control

user36: yall are we on the kardashians what the fuck is going on

user37: people may hate christian but he defends his driver so much that he's inserting himself in the relationship drama

user38: i don't even follow f1 but whoever this is this serving oh my

user39: this is so exhausting like i need charles to just apologise so we can get cute y/n x max x charles content

user40: torturing myself thinking about how cute that dynamic could be

f1

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 1,203,457 others

f1: max verstappen clinches his tenth win of the season at monza, joined by sergio perez and oscar piastri. home heroes charles leclerc and carlos sainz came together at turn one, awful showing for ferrari in monza

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user41: this narrative is so so poetic

user42: i feel bad for the tifosi at this point y'all get your hopes up every season

user43: charles you aimed the wrong way if you wanted to take max out

user44: the way max kissed y/n after winning god they're so cute

user45: also the way christian got everyone to move so y/n could get to the front to see max

user46: even marko looked happy about it what is going on?

user47: y'all we knew it was gonna be bad for ferrari y/n wasn't wearing red, call me superstitious but every time she's worn red charles has either won or been on the podium

user48: well that's just what he gets for not appreciating her

user49: as fernando would say KARMA

user50: someone check charles' blood pressure please

maxverstappen1

liked by christianhorner, yourusername and 1,304,662 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: winning on and off the track, some of you can't relate.

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user51: parents omg

danielricciardo: fighting words maxy, not pulling your punches

maxverstappen1: i do my fighting on the track, not my fault people can't get past turn one to give me a real battle

danielricciardo: i need to be inside your brain

maxverstappen1: no there's images of y/n in my brain that no other man will ever see

danielricciardo: you crack me up maxy

yourusername: woah who's that fine ass piece of woman

maxverstappen1: she's taken sorry

yourusername: that's a shame, i hope that man is taking care of her

maxverstappen1: i don't believe she's got any complaints

yourusername: wow you sound like a gentleman, she's a lucky woman

maxverstappen1: believe me i am the lucky one.

yourusername: awwww maxy you're literally the sweetest person in the world

user52: if i was charles and i saw this after that race you'd have to restrain me i'm so serious

user53: i'm happy for y/n and max but i need them to stop being happy in my face

alexalbon: ur welcome for that first picture btw

yourusername: lily taught you well

alexalbon: so no thanks?

yourusername: i joke thank you very much sir albon

user54: so like all of the twitch quartet are on y/n's side? awkward.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, 706,835 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: charles and i have been best friends since i knew what the word meant and it really hurts that is has gotten to this point. when charles got his first girlfriend i chalked it up to the excitement of the experience, but when he routinely got in and out of relationships and falling back on our friendship once scorned, i started to question what he really felt about our friendship. i overlooked it every time even when it made me doubt my worth and hoped our friendship meant more. however, the cycle continued and after being left stranded at a beach in a country i do not know i decided it was the end. i have reached out to you so, so many times and want nothing more than our friendship to work and so we can be life-long friends that we can tell our kids about. but i guess it's not worth that much to you and that's something i'll have to reconcile with. the only positive coming from this the fact that it pushed me to the love of my life, so thank you for that.

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charles_leclerc

liked by joristrouche, pierregasly and 1,305,783 others

charles_leclerc: i've already got my trophy, sorry not sorry.

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user56: WHAT THE FUCK

user57: my brain is actually scrambled

user58: charles' must be as well cause no way he thought this was a good idea

landonorris: so this is a low blow

charles_leclerc: since when were you the reference point for morals

landonorris: damn dude, you're in the wrong but go off i guess

user59: why do i actually want to cry for y/n right now? she did this whole ass heartfelt post with no comments so people wouldn't be able to speculate and he replies with a pic of his gf's ASS

danielricciardo: not cool dude

charles_leclerc: i see you all took her side and our friendships mean fuck all

danielricciardo: kinda ironic you bring up respecting friendships

charles_leclerc: spare me the lecture

maxverstappen1: you're a child. but this is the closure she needs. cheers to being an asshole.

charles_leclerc: so you managed to get some of my sloppy seconds, you're welcome

maxverstappen1: she's not sloppy seconds and i can't believe you'd refer to her as that. but if you wanna talk sloppy seconds you can hold the 100 point gap between us in the championship. and y/n will never say this so i'll say it for her GO FUCK YOURSELF

user60: SHOTS FIRED

user61: men are so confusing

yourusername added to their story

[caption: taking some time for myself. thank you for your kind words and know i have an amazing support system around me now]

f1wagsupdates

liked by user65, user66 and 5,430 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

f1wagsupdates: charles leclerc spotted outside y/n y/ln's office with flowers this afternoon. idk at this point, any time i report on this man i lose more brain cells.

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user67: lol even wag page admins are done

f1wagsupdates: he gives me a lot of content but damn he needs to sort his head out

user68: lol this is gonna be an all time apology tour i can't wait

user69: i honestly don't want y/n to forgive him he doesn't deserve it.

user70: yeah max has proven ride or die for y/n so i know who she should stick with

user71: i need him to donate his brain to science cause in what world is a measly bouquet of flowers gonna cover all of this shit ?

user72: legit he's systematically ditched his best friend, let randomers on the internet drage her name through the mud and then liked it and then flaunted the fact that he didn't care about their friendship for everyone to see

maxverstappen1: lol nice try

user73: my petty king i love him so much

user74: i know y/n is taking a break from social media but i hope she knows how much love she's getting

user75: for real we're all on her side i hope she slammed that door in charles' face

user76: i hope that bouquet ended up in the bin

maxverstappen1 added to their story

[caption: special delivery for a special girl]

note: i know this was heavily requested so here it is!! i really like it and it's defo open for a third part if yall want charles and y/n to reconcile? thank you for reading xx

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

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[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

[minecraftfalloutau]

I wasn't even going to really use this blog, since I mostly wanted to post stuff for it on Twitter. However, due to Elongated Mustard's continuing bad decisions, and a lot of people fleeing bird app, it seems this might become the main place for me to screech into the void for this AU.

[livwritessometimes]

I LOVE YOU!

: Part 11 (Oscar's Version)

: It's bout time Oscar comes clean about his feelings

: Prev | Next

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

: author’s note - I almost had a heart attack!!! this fic was scheduled and it did not release and it wasn’t showing in the scheduled section and I almost lost it

…

“Oscar??” Y/n said, confused, as she made her way towards the man in front of her. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she finally got a better view of the comp science major standing under the lights that cast a soft glow on his face. 

"Y/n," Oscar said, a hint of nervousness laced his voice. "I'm glad you came!" he said.

"Wait, are you the one who left that message??" Y/n asked. Not bothering to wait for a reply, she continued, "How did you even do that? Wasn't Mr. Stella working on it? So how did you even get the chance to change that? Unless you were working on it with him. Is that what you were doing? Why? First you ignore me, keep on making excuses, ditch me to hang out with another girl, and then when I get someone else to help me with this, you go behind my back and work on it?? How does that even make sense? Osc-" Her ramble was cut short with Oscar suddenly shouting, "Stop! Y/n, would you please stop for the love of God and let me explain?" 

The girl instantly fell silent, waiting for the boy to continue. "Yes, I changed the form so that you could get the coordinates. I had gone to Mr. Stella and begged him if I could work on the form and finish what I had started with you," Oscar said.

"Why? Why would you do all that? Because I told you I don't need your help? Is that why you decided to call me here late at night? and for what?" Y/n said, feeling herself get teary-eyed by the sudden outburst of emotions. "Do you not want me to do well in the assignment? Is that what this is because if that is why you are doing all of this Oscar Piastri, I swear to god?" 

"I did this because I LOVE YOU," Oscar blurted out; he could not take it any longer. He could not keep his mouth shut and watch the girl he loves think he did all of this out of spite.

Y/n felt her heart stop. This was not what she was expecting when she left her house today in hopes of finding the person behind the mysterious message. "What??" Y/n said, in fact, that was all she could get herself to say.

"I love you; I have for a while now. Daniel had texted me one day saying that he's happy to see me happy with you, and I freaked out. I know that this was no excuse for me ignoring you, and I'm really sorry for that. But I didn't know how else to react," Oscar said, staring down at the ground, refusing to look at Y/n. 

"I've never felt like this; all my life I never felt like the need to be with someone, and so I never bothered with it. But the more time we spent together for the project, the more I realized that I did not want it to end. And so I started to make excuses just so we could spend more time working on the project. But I didn't realize that doing so would make it end sooner," he said. "Lily was just working with me on one of our assignments; I never thought you'd think that I was dating her. I never meant for things to get so complicated between us. I understood your decision to work with my professor, and I'm sorry I went behind your back to work on the project. Please don't get angry with him; he was very hesitant to let me do this in the first place. I just hope that we can still be friends." Oscar finally finished and looked up at Y/n.

Both Y/n and Oscar had taken a seat at one of the chairs kept outside, and for a good five minutes no words were exchanged between the two. Suddenly, Y/n got up and said, "I'm sorry, Oscar, but I have to go," and without waiting for him to reply, Y/n walked out of the cafe.

Leaving a confused and heartbroken Oscar behind.

…

Tags: @regalbanshee | @be-your-coffee-pot | @mrsbrxkkxr | @princessria127 | @moonraysandstars | @prettiest-at-the-party | @theblueblub | @magixpracticality | @slytherinholland | @overlyexcitedoutlaw | @marvel-at-stucky | @crumbssss | @a-beaverhausen | @felicityforyou | @gigigreens | @jas0nluvr | @khaylin27 | @imsiriuslyreal | @cwiphswmwasohmm | @wobblymug | @e-nonsense | @raizelchrysanderoctavius | @brekkers-whore | @vintagefucksstuff | @aexitizen-ln4 | @redstappen | @iamred-iamyellow | @tsireyasgf | @ghost-of-student-sufferings | @saachiep81 | @lozzamez3 | @ravisinghs-wife | @elizamoe133 | @anthonylockwoodandco111 | @formulaal | @luvsforme | @annabellelee | @a-disturbing-self-reflection | @emryb | @grovelingmen | @illicit-affcirs | @iwilleatyourgod | @youre-on-your-ownkid | @originaldreamerdragon | @landorris | @mountvesuvu | @chezmardybum | @littlegrapejuice | @spitesfvl-blog | @juleshadalittlelamb | @vicurious28 | @niyu2208 |

[bossbtch1]

Hottest Night of Your Life

Summary : Bucky and Steve joined you for a night out at the club, but things took a dark turn when a stranger spiked your drink. Bucky and Steve were more than willing to "take care" of you.

Pairings : Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes

TW : Smut, NSFW, 18+

Tags : Possessiveness, Jealousy, Aphrodisiac, Slight Manipulation, Fingering, Threesome, Double Penetration, MMF, After Care

Words : 10.9k

A/N : Hey there! Apologies for the irregular updates, life's been quite hectic lately. Nevertheless, I wanted to share something with you for the holiday. I'm not sure if it's up to par, and I might delete it later, but for now, I hope you enjoy it!

My Masterlist

As you finished getting ready for the night out, you slipped into a daringly short dress with the clear intention of making a statement to get laid. The plan for the evening was simple – hit the club, have a good time, and maybe find some company for the night. Initially, Nat and Wanda were supposed to be your trusty wing-women, but they had mysteriously bailed on you, leaving you to navigate the scene solo.

Despite the slight annoyance at their unexpected absence, you couldn't stay mad, knowing the two had their own thing going on. A knowing smile played on your lips, realizing that you might be the sole occupant of the Avengers compound spending the night alone. It wasn't that you were one to sleep around, but the chance was too tempting to pass up, especially with the only man who held your interest seemingly oblivious to the depth of your feelings, at least not to the degree that he wanted to do anything about it.

With a self-assured mutter, you declared, "Alright, I’m ready to get laid." as you slipped into your high heels and grabbed your purse, ready to take on the night.

As you swung open the door, you were met with the unexpected sight of Steve and Bucky standing there. Their heads turned toward you in unison, jaws dropping, and their eyes shamelessly traced the contours of your figure, creating a heat that resonated through the room even before they touched you.

"Oh, hey guys. Sorry, I didn't see you there," you greeted them, ensuring your voice carried enough volume for them to hear. Their expressions shifted from confusion to subtle appreciation as they took in your well-put-together appearance. Tonight, you looked not just good but exceptionally gorgeous.

As you casually inquired, "I'm just about to go. Is there anything you need from me?" you maintained a calm tone, masking the arousal building within you as their intense gazes lingered on your form.

Steve, attempting to regain composure, stammered, "I, uh..." struggling to meet your eyes.

Bucky, captivated by the exposure of your legs, found himself at a loss for words, his mouth subtly watering. Silence lingered, a charged atmosphere thickening between the three of you.

Not willing to prolong the moment, you broke the silence, "Okay, bye. I'll see you later," and started walking toward the exit. Their apparent speechlessness didn't deter your determination to have a good time.

They didn’t say anything and you didn’t want to wait for them any longer, "Okay, bye. I’ll see you later," You mumbled as you began walking towards the exit, it seemed like the two didn't have anything else to say and you weren't in the mood to wait any longer, you were ready to have fun.

Before you could reach the door, Bucky's voice halted you with a single word, "Wait."

You stopped and turned around, concealing the effect their scrutiny had on you, hoping they  didn't notice how wet you were through your panties, you didn't need anyone to know that your pussy was begging for attention, you just hoped that nobody could smell you. "Yeah?" you inquired, awaiting whatever he had to say, uncertainty hanging in the air.

"Uh," Steve and Bucky both stumbled, their thoughts racing in a direction they deemed inappropriate for you to discern. The air thickened with unspoken desires and awkward tension.

Concerned by their peculiar behavior, you raised an eyebrow and questioned, "Do I have something on my face?" Your gaze moved between the two men, sensing their discomfort and odd demeanor.

"No, not at all. It's just... Do you have plans?" Steve stuttered, casting a lingering glance over you. He couldn't help but imagine you in those heels, a tantalizing image that sent shivers down his spine. He felt his cock twitch and he was having a hard time not picturing you wearing those while he fucked you. "Where are you going?"

With a shrug, you replied, "Well, the girls bailed on me, so I'm going alone for some clubbing."

You couldn't help but notice their uneasy state. "Are you guys okay?"

"Fine," they both chimed simultaneously, their synchronized response only adding to the peculiarity of the situation.

Smiling softly, you turned to continue walking, bidding, "Okay then, well, bye."

"Hold on!" they exclaimed in unison, bringing you to a stop.

Turning back with a furrowed brow, you asked, "Yeah?"

"Would you mind if we came with you?" Steve questioned, his eyes devouring your form. He wanted to etch every detail of you into his memory, unwilling to miss out on any part of the captivating picture you painted.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You? Why?"

Bucky, his hands twitching with a desire he couldn't hide, chimed in, "You can't go out alone, it's not safe." The urge to touch you was evident in his restless movements, a silent plea for permission.

"I think I'll be fine, it's just clubbing," You shrugged, you weren't in the mood for babysitters, especially when all you wanted was a carefree night with drinks and hopefully a dick. “I can take care of myself.”

"It's not a good idea, we're coming with you," Bucky said, the two had already made up their minds.

"I don't know, guys..." Your hesitation lingered in the air as a tinge of worry crept into your voice. You were cautious, fearing they might unwittingly sabotage your chances of getting laid. Trying to dissuade them, you crafted excuses with a playful touch, "You guys don't really seem like the clubbing type. It's not exactly a hotspot for old people."

Steve, slightly offended, retorted, "Hey, we're not that old."

A playful chuckle escaped your lips, "Well you both are pushing 100 years old." Your attempt at humor fell a bit flat as you sensed their discomfort. The attempt at humor hung awkwardly in the air as you noticed their discomfort.

Your smile faded, and you cleared your throat, "Sorry, it's just that a lot of the music is newer, and you might not be familiar with the songs," you apologized, subtly appealing to their sensibilities in the hopes of swaying their decision.

"We can dance to any song, no matter the year, we'll fit right in," Bucky assured you, a trace of a smirk playing on his lips.

"Fine, but I don't want to hear any complaints," you agreed, not seeing the harm in taking the two along. You just hoped it wouldn't end up being awkward. "Now let's go," you urged, signalling them to follow as you turned back around.

"Wait, you're going in that?" Bucky questioned, pointing at your outfit.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" You crossed your arms, glaring at the man, "If I recall, I don't believe either of you have a right to tell me what I can and can't wear."

"Yeah, I'm with her, you can't tell her how to dress, if she wants to go clubbing in an outfit that shows off her curves, then that's her business." Steve defended you.

"Thank you, Steve," You smiled at the man before turning to Bucky, "I'm waiting, I don't think it should take this long for you to come up with a response."

"Nothing is wrong with the dress, it's just… You're going to attract a lot of attention," Bucky muttered, he didn't want a bunch of guys staring at you, he didn't want anyone laying a hand on you.

"I'm sure that's the point," you sighed, feeling impatient as you grabbed their hands and pulled them towards the door. You weren't in the mood for arguments, you just wanted to have a good time. "Can we please just go now?"

"Why do you want attention?" Steve asked, letting you pull him along, not that he needed any persuasion to follow you.

"Because," You sighed, rolling your eyes, you were not about to admit the real reason to the two super soldiers, you would rather die. "I just want a fun night out, now let's go, please."

Deciding not to press further, Steve and Bucky mumbled in agreement, choosing not to upset you and risk changing your mind. They followed after you, their eyes inadvertently drawn to the way your hips swayed as you walked—a sight that proved quite hypnotic.

You made your way out of the building and down the streets, it wasn't that far of a walk to the club you were going to, which was great since you weren't sure if the two super soldiers could fit into a taxi with you.

After a couple minutes of walking, the three of you finally made it to the club, the bouncer let the three of you in right away when he realized who the three of you were. Inside, you found a spot at the bar and motioned for the two men to sit on either side of you. They complied willingly, both instinctively warding off anyone attempting to claim a seat next to you.

However, Steve and Bucky looked conspicuously out of place, clearly unimpressed by the pounding beats and unfamiliar tunes that resonated in the club. Their discomfort was palpable, and they appeared more attuned to jazz or big band music.

Internally amused, you chuckled at their reactions, witnessing the awkwardness that had already garnered attention from the ladies. All eyes were on them, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, secretly yearning for the kind of attention they effortlessly attracted.

"Hey, can I get a martini and three shots of vodka, please?" you yelled, catching the bartender's attention. "Oh, and a beer for each of them."

"Sure," he replied, swiftly working on the drinks and placing them in front of the three of you moments later.

You wasted no time, grabbing your drink and downing it. "So, what's the plan for tonight?" Bucky asked as he and Steve sipped their beers.

"Well, I'm gonna get wasted, that's what," you replied, signaling the bartender for another drink. "And then I’m probably gonna dance." The night was young, and your intentions were clear – a mix of intoxication and uninhibited dancing awaited as you sought to make the most of the evening.

"That's a lot of things, are you sure you can do all of that?" Steve inquired, his eyes once again appraising you.

"Is there a problem with that?" you asked, taking a leisurely sip of the fresh martini the bartender handed you.

"Not at all, we just want you to have fun," Bucky reassured, his gaze focused on you.

"Thanks," you smiled, raising your shot glass for another round.

"No problem, sweetheart," Steve grinned, his fondness evident.

You hummed as you downed the second martini. "You know, I'm sure the two of you can get lucky tonight. There are tons of horny girls already drooling over you. I mean, you guys are super attractive."

"Oh, so you think we're attractive," Bucky grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"What?" You stuttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you realized the unexpected admission had slipped out.

"We heard you," Steve chimed in, a playful smirk gracing his lips.

"No, I didn't say anything," You replied, trying to cover up the fact that you admitted that the two were attractive, "You must be hearing things, I didn't say anything. Anyway, I-I’m gonna go dancing now."

No, I didn't say anything," you replied quickly, attempting to cover up the unexpected truth. "You must be hearing things. I didn't say anything. Anyway, I-I’m gonna go dancing now."

Ignoring the protests from both Steve and Bucky, you gracefully slid off the stool and made your way towards the dance floor. The pulsating beats grew louder, drowning out the lingering echoes of the conversation at the bar. As the rhythm took hold, you let the music guide your movements, relishing in the freedom of expression. The neon lights of the club flickered, casting a vibrant glow over the bustling dance floor.

Bucky and Steve couldn't tear their eyes away, captivated by your magnetic presence. Your hips swayed with the music, the ambient glow revealing the delicate sheen of sweat forming on your skin. As the attention from onlookers intensified, it became evident that you were blissfully unaware, each drink ordered contributing to the intoxicating haze that enveloped you.

"I don't like this," Steve growled, his gaze narrowing as he observed a guy dancing too closely behind you, hands brazenly on your hips.

"Me neither," Bucky muttered, glaring at the man who had his hands on you, his blood was boiling and his grip tightened around the glass, threatening to break it.

"Let's go over there, make sure he doesn't do anything," Steve suggested, a protective edge coloring his voice.

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, downing the remnants of his drink in one fluid motion.

They both made their way over to the dance floor, bringing them closer to where you laughed and letting the guy touch you. Bucky tapped the man on the shoulder, a fierce glare directed at him. "Can I help you?" the guy challenged, met with the unyielding resolve of the two super soldiers.

"Yeah, get your hands off her," Bucky warned, his voice a low growl that conveyed both authority and a simmering threat.

You frowned at their interruption, momentarily taken aback as you relished your time with the guy. "Or what?" the guy scoffed, clearly unimpressed and unfazed by the two super soldiers.

"Bucky, what the fuck?" you snapped, irritation evident in your voice. From your perspective, the guy was doing just fine.

"We're leaving," Steve declared, wrapping his hand firmly around your arm.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Fuck off," you snarled, attempting to yank your arm from Steve's grip.

The guy, undeterred, maintained his hold on your hips, his curiosity piqued. "You know them?" he asked, eyes shifting between you, Steve, and Bucky.

"Yeah," you replied, uncertain about the stranger's intentions. "They’re just a friend. Let's go back to dancing."

"I'm not fucking around, get your hands off her or I will make sure that you won't be able to hold anyone again," Bucky threatened.

"Are you serious?" The guy chuckled, his grip on your waist tightening in defiance.

"You have no idea who we are. If I were you, I'd release her and walk away," Steve interjected, a stern warning in his tone. He had no intention of letting the situation escalate into a public altercation.

"Yeah, since she's so eager to go with you guys," he retorted, sarcasm dripping from his words as he rolled his eyes dismissively.

"Steve, Bucky, I'm warning you, leave us alone!" you glared at them, frustration evident in your voice. Turning back to the guy, you pleaded, "Let's just ignore them," hoping to salvage the evening, you were getting horny and wanted him to fuck you.

"No. We're leaving," Steve ordered, he was tired of playing nice.

As Steve attempted to pull you away, the stranger stood firm, refusing to release his grip. "What the fuck is your problem?" The man growled. “Get a hint, asshole!”

"My problem is that you're touching her," Bucky declared, frustration boiling over as he seized the guy by the throat, forcefully pressing him against the wall. He was done being, he was going to punch him in the face.

"Bucky!" you yelled, shocked by his sudden aggression.

"Are you just going to stand there?" you questioned Steve, incredulous at his apparent nonchalance.

He merely shrugged in response, his demeanor nonchalant. "He should've left," Steve remarked casually, strolling over to observe the unfolding scene as Bucky maintained his grip on the man's throat.

"Let go," you pleaded, attempting to pry Bucky off the man. Despite your efforts, it became apparent that Bucky didn't register your words over the haze of his anger. Desperation crept into your voice, "Let him go, now! Or I won’t ever talk to you both again."

As you issued the ultimatum, Bucky turned his head toward you and dropped the man, watching as he crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. He glared up at Bucky. "You're a psycho!" he yelled before hastily running off. "There are plenty of women here anyway. You’re not worth it."

“Wait, don’t go! Um...,” you hesitated, realizing you forgot to ask his name. “Ugh, whatever. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned around to face Bucky. "What the hell was that?" you demanded, frustration and anger evident as you punctuated your question with a punch to Bucky's chest.

"Ow," Bucky flinched.

"Don't act like that hurt, I didn't hit you that hard," you retorted with an eye roll. Pissed off and no longer in the mood, you added, "Seriously, why the hell did you do that?"

"He had it coming. He was touching you," Steve pointed out, his tone defensive. "We couldn't stand by and watch."

"Yeah, and what's wrong with that?" you challenged, genuinely perplexed by their actions. You folded your arms, awaiting an explanation.

"Are you seriously asking us that?" Bucky questioned, his shock evident as he rubbed the spot where you had punched him.

"Yes, I don't understand what's so wrong with you guys. You don't have the right to tell me who I can and can't sleep with," you declared, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The club's music throbbed in the background, adding a surreal intensity to the confrontation.

"You want to sleep with him? Really?" Bucky asked, his tone was condescending.

"And what if I do, why does it matter?" You countered, getting more and more irritated.

"You can't be serious," Bucky scoffed.

"It's none of your business who I sleep with," You glared at him. "I can't believe this. That was my chance! And you guys completely ruin it."

"What chance? You should be grateful, that guy is an asshole," Bucky mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He didn’t deserve you.”

“That wasn’t your call! And you know what, don't talk to me," you snapped, frustration etched across your face. "I'm going home, I can't deal with this shit."

"No, we're not done talking," Steve protested, attempting to grab your wrist.

"Let go," you yanked your arm away, irritation fueling your movements. "I'm going home."

You spun around and marched towards the exit, not bothering to wait for the two. Then as you walked, your head suddenly felt dizzy, you stopped and held your head, everything was spinning and the sounds were muffled. "Fucking hell," You groaned.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, concerned, as he came up to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

"Don't touch me," you hissed, slapping his hand away. Anger boiled up inside you, but then your head started to feel light, and you stumbled, your vision becoming fuzzy.

You didn’t understand why your head suddenly felt dizzy, you hadn’t consumed that much alcohol. You knew your limits, and this amount shouldn't have made you feel drunk.

"You don’t look fine sweetheart, how many drinks did you have?" Steve asked, placing his hand on the small of your back. You were too weak to push him away so you just ignored him.

"I dunno," You mumbled, trying to focus on them. “It shouldn’t make me this drunk…”

“Did you take any drinks from that guy?” Bucky asked and you thought for a moment, you didn't, but maybe, you couldn't remember. You didn't know what happened after the last couple drinks, everything was blurry.

"Maybe, I don't know," You replied.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” He was about to go inside again. But Steve stopped him. “Buck, later. Now we have something else to worry about. We should make sure everything is okay." Bucky was reluctant but listened to Steve, they would get him later.

"We'll take you home, sweetheart don't worry," Steve spoke, rubbing your back.

"It's okay, I can manage myself." You pulled yourself away from his touch and turned away, wanting to leave. You wanted to be alone and rest, not be near the two super soldiers.

But you took a step and your body collapsed, if it weren't for the super soldier, you would've hit the floor. "See, you can't," Steve stated, holding you up by your waist.

"But I don't want your help," you protested weakly, your stubbornness clinging to you even in your compromised state.

Steve sighed, exchanging a worried glance with Bucky. "We can argue about this later. Right now, let us help you, we'll take you to my place and then we can figure out what's wrong, okay?" He suggested.

"Fine," You reluctantly agreed, leaning into his hold.

"Come on Buck."

Bucky hailed a cab since walking home in your current state was out of the question. As you settled into the backseat, a sudden surge of heat engulfed you, making the ride feel more suffocating than the dimly lit club you'd just left. You fanned yourself, beads of sweat forming on your forehead, and the dress sticking uncomfortably to your skin.

"Fuck, why is it so hot in here?" you complained, looking at Steve and Bucky, who appeared unfazed by the sudden rise in temperature. “Aren't you guys feeling hot?”

Steve had already discarded his jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing his casually confident demeanor. On the other hand, Bucky remained fully dressed. The two exchanged knowing looks before Steve spoke up, "Doll, you were roofied."

"What?" Your voice came out soft, a mix of confusion and disbelief. But soon, anger surged within you, intensifying the heat in your head, making you feel nauseous. "Ugh, why can't I fucking catch a break?"

"You're okay sweetheart," Steve assured you, "Buck and I will help you, we won't let anything happen to you."

"Okay," You gave in, resting your head against the seat. You were tired, you just wanted to go to bed. You felt Steve wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, you were too weak to care.

"Okay," you relented, leaning your head against the seat. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you; all you wanted was to crawl into bed. Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You nestled your head on his shoulder, too drained to resist.

Upon reaching home, you found yourself being gently guided to the bedroom. "Here, doll," Steve said, placing you on the bed and handing you a water bottle. "Drink some."

"I don't want it," you grumbled, pushing it away.

"Drink it, you'll need it."

"Fine." You took a few sips, but the water offered little relief. Instead, the heat intensified, your stomach now feeling uneasy, akin to a fluttering of butterflies. Confused and uncomfortable, you couldn't pinpoint the cause, especially since the water should have calmed the fire.

You attempted to take off your dress, but weakness overwhelmed you. Sensing your struggle, Steve sat beside you and gently assisted in removing the dress. "We have to take your clothes off, okay? It'll help," Steve informed you.

"I'll just do it myself," you mumbled, determined to exert independence. Pushing yourself up, you tried to stand, but the drugs had weakened you considerably, causing you to sway dangerously. Fortunately, Bucky acted swiftly, grabbing your arm just in time.

"I got you, doll. Just let us help you, okay?"

"Okay," You gave up.

Bucky gently assisted you in sitting up on the bed and then proceeded to remove your heels. Steve then came in and pulled down the zipper, allowing your dress to slide off your shoulders. Beneath, you wore a simple laced bra and underwear set.

Bucky and Steve tried not to stare too much, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. They were just helping a friend out. "Okay, do you need anything else?" Steve asked.

Despite still feeling hot, weird, and tired, the comfy bed and cool air conditioner offered a tempting sanctuary. "Stay," you requested, lacking the energy for further explanation.

"You want us to stay here?" Steve sought clarification.

"Yes," you affirmed, your fatigue evident in your response.

"We'll stay here," Bucky reassured you.

You smiled and closed your eyes. The room was spinning and your head felt dizzy. You felt so weak and tired, you could just fall asleep right here. But then a sudden burst of energy rushed through your veins, you were no longer tired, and your body was heating up.

"Fuck," You moaned, clutching the sheets. "Steve...Buck..."

"We're here," Bucky sat beside you, while Steve was in front.

You opened your eyes, feeling dazed and hazy. "I feel weird," You mumbled.

"How, sweetheart? Does it hurt?"

"My body is hot, my stomach feels weird," You rubbed your thighs together, trying to relieve the tension between your legs. "Fuck, I feel weird."

"Shit, she's horny," Bucky realized.

"What?" You asked, confused.

"Doll, the drug is supposed to make people horny, basically it's an aphrodisiac that the dude slipped into your drink," Steve explained.

"Then what do we do now? Fuck... I...feel….," You panted, your breathing became heavier.

You were already wet, your panties damp. You were still wearing the underwear so it was fine, not a lot of discomfort yet but you kept rubbing your thighs to get some friction.

Steve then opened your legs and exposing your heat. Steve could see how soaked your panties were, the wetness covering the area.  "Steve what are you doing?" You asked, watching him as he spread your legs.

"We have to get the drugs out of your system," Steve replied, his face so close to your core.

"What?" You couldn't believe what Steve was doing. "But how does that work?" You asked as Steve kept your thighs open and looked at your clothed heat.

"I’m going to try and suck out the drug," Steve said as if it was nothing.

"What?! Steve no, you don't have to do that," You blushed and shook your head at him, but then you felt his hands gripped your inner thighs tightly.

"No, no, no," Steve shook his head and then he started to kiss your thighs making you moan. "Trust me, Y/N, I want to," He continued, sucking the sensitive skin making you moan again.

"Fuck, Steve," You moaned as you felt his lips kissing your thighs. Steve kept kissing and licking, marking your thighs with his lips.

"Just let us help you, doll." Bucky said as he watched you getting turned on by Steve.

"Okay, okay," You gave up, feeling the heat in your stomach, wanting release.

Steve was so close to your cunt, you could feel his warm breath. You were squirming from the stimulation but Steve kept a good grip on your thighs, not letting you move too much.

"Fuck," You cursed, you could feel his teeth and his lips on your thighs, the pain was pleasurable, a nice contrast to the teasing.

Steve kept teasing, kissing everywhere but where you want him the most. You were getting frustrated and you were about to tell him when he licked a stripe across your clothed heat, the damp lace barely covering anything.

You groaned and bucked your hips but Steve kept you still, his big hands gripping your thighs tightly. "Steve please, I need more," You begged him, you wanted to feel his mouth directly on your cunt, not your underwear.

"I'll give you what you need, don't worry," Steve said as he started to rub his thumb on your clit.

You gasped as he touched the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shocks throughout your body. Steve's touch felt amazing and you wanted more, but the lace was in the way. Steve then hooked his fingers on the lace, pulling the underwear off. You were now bare for them to see. Bucky watched as Steve kept touching you, making you a mess.

Steve then put your legs on his shoulders and licked your cunt. He didn't waste any time, he ate you out like he's been starving. Your eyes were shut, mouth agape as Steve worked his magic.

Steve was really good, knowing where to lick and touch. He kept eating you out, his tongue circling around your clit. Your hand went to his hair and you tugged his hair, making him moan, sending vibrations to your cunt.

"Oh god, Steve!" You screamed his name.

"She sounds so pretty, Stevie. Can't wait to have her screaming our names later," Bucky said as he moved behind you, making you sit up so you were leaning against his chest.

Steve didn't reply, he just continued to eat you out. He could feel his cock hardening at the thought of you cumming and screaming his name.

Bucky's hands went to your breasts, groping them, massaging them, and removed your bra. "Your tits are perfect, Y/N," Bucky whispered into your ear as he played with your nipples.

"Oh fuck," You moaned and arched your back as Steve inserted a finger into your tight pussy.

Bucky watched Steve, his friend's face was buried between your thighs, eating you out, making you feel so good. Steve inserted another finger, fucking you with his long digits, hitting all the right places. You were moaning loudly, your orgasm was building, you could feel the knot tightening, but you couldn't cum. The drugs were making it hard for you to cum.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed as you held Bucky's hands and squeezed his flesh arm tightly.

"What's wrong, doll?" Bucky asked as he stopped playing with your breasts and held you instead.

"I can't cum, I need more," You told him. "Please, please, Steve," You begged him, you hoped that they could give you more, help you reach your climax. He wanted you to cum, so he could hear you scream his name again. He wanted to taste you. So, he put two fingers inside you and moved them while his mouth was focused on your clit.

Steve increased the speed, fucking you harder and faster, sucking on your clit while Bucky's hands roamed your body. The pleasure was overwhelming, you couldn't take it anymore. "I'm so close," You mumbled, feeling the tension building in your stomach.

"Then cum," Bucky growled as he pinched your nipple.

"Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my tongue," Steve said, looking at you, his blue eyes darker than usual.

And that's what did it. You came, screaming both Steve and Bucky's name, tugging Steve’s blonde locks, your body trembling from the intense pleasure. Steve pulled away with a string of your slick connected to his lips, his chin was soaked from your wetness. He looked up at you and smirked.

"We'll give you a minute to calm down and then we'll continue," Steve said as he watched you catch your breath.

"Continue? What do you mean?" You asked, confused. You didn't think they were going to do anything else, this was enough. After all, Steve said the drug would be gone after he sucked it out.

"The drug's not gone yet," Bucky stated as he gripped your chin and turned your head to him. "We thought by sucking you was enough, but we need to make sure that we got all of it," He continued as he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you hungrily.

Steve then went to kiss your neck, licking the spots where Bucky bit and sucked earlier. "Looks like I didn't do good enough job earlier." Steve whispered as he kissed your neck.

Bucky hands travelled to your cunt, rubbing your clit. "I don't know if we have to keep going or not," He whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned as you leaned back to Bucky, his chest pressed against your back.

"Bucky," You whimpered.

"What do you say, Steve?" Bucky asked his best friend.

"I don't think we've done a good enough job, she's not begging us," Steve said as he pulled away. "I think she doesn't want us, Buck."

"Really, doll?" Bucky replied as he rubbed your clit in slow circles teasingly. You couldn't help but to arched up into his hand, whining as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach. Bucky chuckled as he pulled his hand away, making you whimper. "Looks like Steve might be right, what should we do?"

"I don't know, Buck." Steve sighed, stroking himself slowly. "It's a shame, really. If she begged we'd give her everything she wants. I mean, she's just sitting there, wanting us so bad," Steve taunted while he was kissing all over your body, making you whimper again.

You could feel their cocks hardening against your ass and your thigh. They wanted you, and you wanted them. "I want you, please," You begged. "I need more."

"More of what?" Steve asked as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it," He demanded as he removed his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock.

"More of your fingers, more of your mouth, your cocks, I don't care. I just need you," You cried, feeling desperate for release. "I want your cocks in me, I want to ride both of you. Please, just fuck me, please," You begged, you couldn't take the teasing anymore.

"There, was that so hard?" Bucky teased as he stood up and removed his clothes.

Both Steve and Bucky were naked, and they looked even more gorgeous. Bucky had a metal arm and a scarred shoulder, but he was handsome, and he was ripped. Steve had a similar look to Bucky, only his arms weren't scarred, they were smooth. His muscles were huge and you wanted to run your fingers all over them.

"Fuck, you two are so sexy," You commented, looking at them up and down. You didn't know if it were the drug or the lust that was talking, but you couldn't find a better description for them.

"Look who's talking," Steve smirked. "Now, are you ready?"  He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist, supporting you.

"Yeah, I'm ready," You replied.

Steve picked you up, carrying you bridal style, and walked to the bed, laying you down carefully. Steve climbed on top of you and Bucky joined the two of you on the bed.

"Fuck, doll. You look so beautiful, laid down like this," Steve whispered as he stroked your face. You blushed as you looked away. "Look at me, baby," He said, turning your head back.

Your heart was pounding, you couldn't believe you were actually doing this. Steve started sucking your neck, making you moan as his beard tickled you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, moaning.

"I wanna fuck her," Steve said, looking at Bucky, who was stroking his cock.

"Go ahead," Bucky said to Steve. “Why don’t you spread your legs for us, doll? Be a good girl and do as we say,"

You laid down on the bed and spread your legs, exposing your wet cunt. You could see Steve and Bucky's eyes darken with lust. They were both naked now, their muscular bodies were perfect and they were huge, especially their cocks.

Steve spread your legs, pushing himself inside of you, groaning. You gasped as you felt him filling you, moaning as he started moving. Steve was huge, and he felt so good, stretching you out. You couldn't help but to arch up to him, feeling the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix.

"You're so tight, doll," Steve groaned as he fucked you faster.

Bucky moved, climbing on the bed next to the two of you, positioning himself near your face. "Open up," He said. You opened your mouth, allowing Bucky to slide his cock inside. You moaned as he began to thrust into your mouth.

Steve grabbed your legs, placing them on his shoulders as he fucked you, his balls hitting your ass with every thrust. "Mmphhh" You moaned, arching up.

"Shit," Bucky groaned, moving his hips, thrusting his cock into your mouth. You ran a hand over his thigh, moving down, touching his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Fuck, Stevie. Her mouth feels so fucking good, it's so hot and wet," He moaned as you bobbed your head, moving up and down his cock, moaning.

Steve growled and began fucking you faster, hitting deeper. You arched up, grabbing the sheets. "Oh, fuck!" You gasped, feeling your orgasm coming.

"Her pussy feels so fucking good Buck" Steve groaned, his hands were on your hips, gripping tightly.

"I can't wait to fuck her next," Bucky groaned as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, thrusting in and out of your mouth.

"You like this huh sweetheart?” Steve moaned, “You are squeezing my cock, sweetheart Fuck,"

"Fuck, I'm so close," Bucky said, moving his hips, fucking your mouth harder. "Fuck, baby, suck my cock, that's it. Such a good girl," He praised, making you moan.

You couldn't speak, your moans were muffled by Bucky's cock. You were moaning, feeling Steve's cock hitting your g-spot, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You closed your eyes, letting the sensations overtake you.

"I'm gonna come," You managed to gasp, feeling yourself starting to tense up. You were close, you could feel your orgasm building up, your pussy was pulsing, and your nipples were hardening. You wanted to scream, but Bucky's cock was in your mouth, stopping you from doing so.

"Shit, fuck, fuck, doll, I'm coming, fuck," Steve growled, his thrusts becoming sloppier, losing his rhythm. He grabbed your hips, holding them tightly.

"Me too," Bucky gasped, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pushing his cock deeper in your mouth. Bucky and Steve thrust were getting sloppy. You were choking and drooling around his cock. You could taste the salty pre-cum and you loved it.

They both came at the same time, you were right behind them, coming, clenching around Steve's cock. "Fuck," Steve growled, coming, spurting his load inside of you, his cum spilling out. "That's a good girl," Steve praised as he pushed you deeper.

Bucky came with a loud groan, his cum filling your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, but some of it spilled down your chin. He pulled out, stroking himself, making sure to get every drop out.

"Fucking hell, doll. You're so good at that," Bucky moaned.

"Shit, baby," Steve panted.

You were laying down, feeling completely blissed out. Your whole body was tingling, and you were panting. You never came that hard in your life, maybe the drug enhance the experience? Or was it the fact that you were being doted on by two incredibly handsome, and kind men? Either way, it was an amazing experience, and you wouldn't change a thing.

You were still horny even though you just came. Maybe you could convince them to go again? You were about to say something when you felt a hand on your cheek. You opened your eyes and saw Bucky smiling down at you.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Mhm, more than alright," you smiled back. You saw both of them got hard again, your eyes widened, "How can you get hard so fast?" Guys usually needed time to recover after coming right? Or did they not come that hard? You thought they did.

"It's the serum," Steve explained. "We can get hard, stay hard, and last longer than most men."

"You're not done yet, doll," Bucky whispered. "We still have a lot of fun ahead of us."

"We're not stopping until you can't walk straight," Bucky added. "You're going to take us both. At the same time."

Your whole body was still tingling, and you felt a warmth spreading through your belly. You were already aroused, but hearing him say that, you felt even more aroused. You let out a small moan, and you blushed, covering your face.

"Don't hide, doll," Steve coaxed, moving your hands away, "We want to see your beautiful face."

"Yeah, we want to see your pretty face," Bucky agreed, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Come on, doll, don't hide," Steve coaxed again, pulling your hands away.

"Okay," you nodded, moving your hands. You blushed, your cheeks turning red. You looked down, feeling shy. You weren't used to the praises. It was a new thing for you, a nice thing. But it still made you feel a little shy.

"That's it. Don't be embarrassed," he said. "You're perfect, you hear me? Perfect. You took our cocks like a good girl."

"Yeah, doll. You're fucking perfect," Bucky added.

"Let's get you ready for round 2, huh?" he asked, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

You nodded again, and Steve leaned in, kissing you. He was slow and gentle, his tongue exploring your mouth. He kissed you deeply, passionately. You were breathing heavily, your heart racing. You were so turned on, it was unreal.

Bucky watched with a hungry expression, his eyes roaming your naked body. "I'm so fucking lucky," he muttered under his breath. He moved between your legs, his hands moving over your thighs, and then to your pussy. He stroked your pussy, his fingers teasing you. "I can’t fucking wait to fuck this sweet pussy.”

After you and Steve broke the kiss, Bucky then pulled you into straddling his lap, his cock was resting against your stomach. He was stroking your back, kissing your neck. He was being gentle, his movements slow and deliberate. You were grinding on his lap, his cock pressing into you. You were aching for more, "Steve, I want her to ride me, you can prep her, and then join us, okay?"

"Sure." Steve got up to grab the lube and moved behind you. "I need you to lean forward, baby doll." You followed his instruction and leaned forward, bracing yourself against Bucky's shoulder.

You looked over your shoulder to see him squeezed some lube on his fingers. Then he leaned forward and kissed you. You could feel the coolness of the lube touching your ass as he gently worked one finger into your tight ass. You hissed at the intrusion. "It's okay, baby, just relax." Bucky said. He ran his hands up and down your back.

You nodded, letting out a breath. Steve continued his slow movements, "There you go, baby. Taking me so good." You began to feel comfortable with his finger in your ass, it hurt from his finger you worried about taking his cock.

But then it started to feel good with Bucky now helping you to relax by sucking and licking your breast, his other hand playing with your clit. You moaned at the sensation of Steve's fingers, and the feeling of Bucky playing with your nipples. You were grinding down onto Bucky’s hardness, desperate for friction. You were sure he could feel how soaked you were on his cock.

 "You think you're ready for another?" Steve asked, looking down at you. You nodded. "Use your words, baby doll."

"Yes, sir," you replied.

He then removed his finger, squeezing some more lube and pushing another one inside of you. "Ahh," you let out.

"You're okay, doll. You're doing so well. Such a good girl." Bucky praised.

The feeling of Steve's fingers, along with Bucky's praise sent a new sensation through you. It wasn't necessarily arousal, but it was something similar.

"You're doing so good, baby. Take my fingers so well," Steve said.

"Please," you begged, "I want more." You looked at Bucky with pleading eyes. "Want you inside of me."

You saw Bucky's jaw clench and eyes darkened, "Fuck doll, you can't just say that." Bucky growled, "I can't wait any longer, I need to be in you now," Bucky was holding his cock, and positioning it at your entrance.

He slammed you down. You took a breath as his cock slowly stretched you. The wetness from your previous orgasms making it easy for him to slide in. You whimpered as he moved. Bucky's eyes never left yours.

Steve was behind you, whispering encouragement into your ear. "Such a good girl. You look so pretty taking Bucky's cock."

Bucky slowly picked up his pace, thrusting harder into you. "Fuck doll, why didn't we do this sooner?" He groaned, moving his hips upward, pounding into you. You were a moaning mess, you felt as if you were going to burst. The pleasure was building up inside of you.

Your mind went blank, and all you could think about was how good it felt. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning. "Oh yeah, just like that. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, doll," Bucky said. You could feel him hit your g-spot over and over, each time it got more intense. You wrapped your hand on Bucky's shoulders, digging your nails into his flesh.

Steve pushed two fingers inside you and curled them, finding the spot that drove you crazy, your walls clenched around his fingers. You started riding Bucky's cock, grinding your hips on his hard member as Steve was scissoring you, trying to stretch you out. When he had worked a third finger in, he started thrusting them in and out. "Taking both of us will take some work. You're doing so good for us now, sweetheart."

Bucky kept his eyes on yours, making sure you were okay. After a few moments, they began working together faster with their combined rhythm while fucking harder from both ends.

Soon, you were rocking back and forth between them, moaning their names.

"Such a good girl," Steve praised.

"So fucking hot," Bucky groaned.

"Please," you begged. Steve moved his other hand and pinched your nipples while he turned your head around to taste your mouth. Your whole body tingled and the sensations were so overwhelming, you could feel yourself getting close. You rocked your hips faster, bouncing up and down on his length. You were so lost in the pleasure, that you didn't realize when Steve started to stretch you with two fingers.

You could feel your second orgasm building, and it was going to be bigger. "Fuck, Bucky! I'm so close, oh fuck, right there!" You moaned, digging your nails deeper into his shoulder. You moaned. You felt Steve's other hand reach around and start rubbing your clit.

Your whole body was on fire, and you felt like you were going to explode. Steve kept pumping his fingers in and out of your ass while rubbing your clit. While Bucky thrusting inside you faster and rougher.

"Cum for us, Y/N." Bucky ordered. "Let us hear you scream our names."

Your orgasm tore through you. Your body shook violently as you screamed their names. "Fuck, Bucky! Steve!" It was so strong that you couldn't even hear yourself screaming his name.

You were completely limp, lying against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. "That's it, baby doll. So good. Taking us both so good." Bucky praised. He placed a kiss on your forehead, his breathing ragged.

You felt Steve's fingers slow down and his thrusts became shallower. Steve was still fucking into you, trying to prolong your orgasm. He pulled his fingers from your ass and trailed kisses around your back. “Good job, sweetheart. We are so proud of you.”

Bucky was still inside you but he stilled his hips, allowing you to catch your breath. "How do you feel, doll?" Bucky asked.

"Amazing," you breathed out.

Steve kissed your shoulder blade, "You did so good, baby. I'm proud of you," he said. "Are you ready to take us both, doll? You think you can do it?" Steve asked.

You felt like your eyes were going to pop out of your head. The two most gorgeous men on the planet had you trapped between them and they were making a plan to fuck you into oblivion. It was a dream, right?

You nodded. You were ready. "Yeah. I'm ready. I can handle it."

Steve chuckled. "That's our girl. We'll make it good for you. It will be better than any dream."

You moaned, hearing his words, you wanted them both inside you. "Please, fuck me," You begged.

Bucky grinned, he looked over your shoulder at Steve. "You hear that, Stevie? She wants us to fuck her."

"Yeah, I heard, Buck. Can’t wait to fuck this sweet ass." Steve smiled back at you, he was still behind you, pressed his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. Bucky was sitting upright, his legs spread apart. He held you up, helping Steve position himself behind you.

“You move first so she can adjust to it first then I’ll move.” Bucky said.

 Steve then poured more lube onto his length, he poured generous amount of lube and stroke it onto his cock. Then he was positioned at your entrance. "Are you ready?" He asked, his mouth was against your ear. His hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Yes," you nodded.

"Relax," Steve said. You were aware of Steve's hands spreading you open. The tip of his cock brushed against your hole.

"Fuck," you whined.

"It's okay, doll. We'll take care of you." Bucky said, rubbing circles on your thighs.

Steve pushed inside you slowly, feeling his girth spreading you wide. "God," Steve groaned, his head leaning back. You could feel him stretching you open. You gasped, and gripped onto Bucky's shoulders, the pain was intense, it burned a little making you winced.

"Shit, fuck, shit," You groaned. It was uncomfortable at first. But he waited, and he didn't move, he was letting you adjust.

"You're doing good, sweetheart." Steve whispered, stroking your back. "Just relax."

You took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. They were stretching you out, "You ok, sweetheart?" Bucky asked. Bucky kept his eyes on yours, making sure you were okay. “Is it too much for you?”

"I'm okay. Just give me a minute." You closed your eyes, trying to relax. You knew it would pass, and the pleasure would be worth it.

Both of them were helping by rubbing your back, kissing your lips, and whispering sweet praises into your ear. You could feel both of their hands on your hips, and their mouths kissing and sucking at your neck and shoulders.

"How are you feeling?" Bucky asked. You had never felt more full.

"It feels so good, you guys are so big. Just... give me a second," you said. They both waited patiently, not moving as they allowed you to adjust. You began to move your hips, trying to encourage them. "I think I'm ready. Please."

Both of them started to move at the same time. Their pace was slow and deliberate, giving you a chance to get used to them being inside you. You moaned, throwing your head back against Steve's shoulder. It felt amazing, having both of them moving at the same time. The burning sensation was replaced with an intense feeling of pleasure. You could feel both of them hitting the spot that drove you crazy.

Steve reached around and started playing with your tits, sending shivers down your spine. Bucky had one hand on your hips, and his other hand was between your clit. Both of them were thrusting in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making you scream their names.

Bucky groaned, "Oh doll, you feel so fucking good."

"I think we're going to have to pick this up a bit," Bucky said as he thrust deeper inside you.

"Yeah, I think she's ready." Steve started to move faster, thrusting deep inside you.

"Yeah, baby. Take our cocks. You like taking our cocks, don't you?" Steve hands from behind were groping your tits, squeezing and massaging them.

" Yeah, baby. Take our cocks." Steve growled, his hands from behind were groping your tits, squeezing and massaging them as he pounded into you. "You like being filled up by two cocks. You love having us inside you."

"Oh, fuck, yes. I love it. Fuck me harder, please," You begged.

"Your ass feel so good, sweetheart. So tight and hot," Steve groaned. "You're doing such a good job, taking us both. You're being such a good girl for us, baby."

They were both thrusting inside you, your body sandwiched between them, their movements making the friction against your clit that much sweeter. You were surrounded by their smell, their skin, their sweat, their moans of pleasure. You were overwhelmed, your senses consumed by them. Part of you thought it was the drug's effect but another part knew that it was just because of who they were.

Now you could care less if it was the drugs, it was amazing. The sensations were so intense. Bucky gripped your chin, "Focus on us, doll. On our cocks inside you, on our voices." His grip on your chin was firm, but he was still gentle.

"That's it, focus on how good we feel," Steve whispered in your ear, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. "Do you know how beautiful you are? How sexy?"

Bucky moved his hand from your chin to your hair and grabbed a fistful of it, pulling your head back so that he could claim your lips. He kissed you fiercely, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring your mouth. You moaned into his mouth, loving the possessiveness of his kiss.

When the kiss ended, Steve turned your head so that he could claim your lips as well. Your body was burning up, their combined pleasure coursing through your veins, your blood singing with the feeling. Your pussy clenched around Bucky's cock and you could feel his breathing becoming ragged. He was getting close.

"Fuck, Bucky, I don't know how long I'm gonna last." Steve said. You knew Steve was holding back, he could easily pound into you if he wanted to, but he was waiting for you and Bucky to get there.

"She's close, just a little more," Bucky grunted.

"God, I'm so close, please," you begged. You needed to come.

"Come for us, doll." Bucky growled.

"Yes, yes!" You cried as your orgasm washed over you, your walls clamping down on both of their cocks, the sensation of you walls spasming and contracting was too much for them to handle, pushing them both over the edge. They both kept fucking you through your high as their thrusts became frantic, both of them chasing their own releases.

"Buck, I'm close," Steve grunted.

"Yeah. Me too. Come on, Stevie, come in her ass. Fill her with your come. Show her who she belongs to. Claim her."

Bucky groaned, his body going stiff as he emptied his load into you. Steve let out a loud moan as his orgasm hit. He thrust deep inside you, filling you up. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, his seed coating your insides.

You slumped against Bucky, your body completely spent. They stayed inside you for a moment, both of them trying to catch their breath. Steve moved first, carefully pulling out of you. He gently picked you up and placed you down on the bed. Bucky pulled out, and you let out a small moan. You were already sore.

"I'll get you a towel," Steve said, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "Just stay right there."

"Here, sweetheart. We’ll clean you up." Bucky gently wiped away the remnants of his and Steve's cum.

You smiled, feeling so relaxed. Bucky finished cleaning you and threw the towel on the ground. He kissed you deeply, and you couldn't help the smile that crept on your lips. He broke the kiss and laid next to you, holding your body close. He snuggled into your other side and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

"That was intense," you commented, a smile playing on your lips.

"That's an understatement, doll. You were amazing," Bucky chuckled, expressing his admiration with a sweet kiss.

"Thanks to both of you. That was incredible. You two have been with women, but that was my first time with two people. I'm so glad it was with you guys." You looked at each of them, your eyes full of love.

"Are you kidding?" Steve chuckled, "We should be thanking you. You're the best thing to happen to us, darlin'."

Bucky's fingers traced light patterns on your arm, and he added, "I agree. So, did you enjoy yourself?"

"What do you think?" you laughed. "I don't know how I'm going to walk tomorrow."

"Well, hopefully, it will be a nice reminder of tonight," Bucky grinned playfully.

"Yeah, I doubt I'll be forgetting tonight anytime soon," You chuckled.

"Good," Steve smiled, his gaze filled with affection. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, delivering a gentle kiss. "I'm glad you had a good time. We did too."

"You have no idea, doll." Bucky smirked. He gave you another kiss on your forehead. "Do you need anything? Water?"

"That would be great, actually. I'm a little thirsty," you admitted, the aftermath of your shared activities leaving you in need of hydration.

"We should all hydrate after that," Steve laughed.

"I'll be right back." Bucky walked out of the room, heading to the kitchen

Steve shifted to lie beside you. "That was quite a ride."

"It was," you smiled, the post-experience glow evident on your face.

"You're really amazing, you know that?" Steve complimented, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

"You're not so bad yourself," You laughed.

Bucky returned, cradling two bottles of water in his hands. He extended one to you and the other to Steve before settling down on the opposite side. His eyes reflected a mix of concern and care.

"Are you okay? You didn't hurt yourself or anything?" Bucky inquired, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, I'm fine, Buck," you reassured him with a warm smile.

"Good," he sighed in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I'd feel awful if we hurt you.”

"Don't worry about me. I can handle a little rough sex." You laughed.

"If you say so." He chuckled.

You smiled, finishing the last drops of your water. Steve gathered the empty bottles, disposing of them in a nearby bin.

As you laid down, a yawn escaping your lips. The drug coursing through your system, coupled with exhaustion, was taking a toll on you. As you lay there, a hazy stupor enveloping your senses, you could hear Bucky and Steve engaged in conversation, but couldn't understand what they were saying as everything began to fade.

You drifted off to sleep.

The next time you opened your eyes, the morning sun bathed the room in a warm glow. Glancing over, you noticed that Steve and Bucky were still peacefully asleep next to you. You took a few minutes to enjoy the feeling of warmth and comfort before carefully disentangling yourself from them and tiptoed into the bathroom for a refreshing shower. Afterward, you draped yourself in a robe and made your way to the kitchen.

It was the morning after your first night as mates. It wasn't a secret that Steve and Bucky had wanted this for a long time, but you hadn't been so sure. They were your best friends and you didn't want to risk messing that up by bringing feelings into the mix. And yet, they'd somehow managed to convince you.

As you bustled around the kitchen, the mellow sounds of brewing coffee filling the air, a subtle noise pulled you from your tasks. Swiveling around, you found Steve and Bucky, now fully awake, standing in the doorway. "Good morning, boys," you greeted them, a warm smile gracing your lips.

They exchanged puzzled glances. "What are you doing up? Why didn't you wake us?" Steve inquired, clearly confused.

"I just wanted to get a head start on the day," you replied casually, your smile unwavering.

Steve closed the distance between you, a gentle expression softening his features. "That's not how this works, doll. You wake us up. You need anything, you let us know." He smiled, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Well, you both look so worn out, and I don’t blame you after what we did last night. So, IO figured you could use the extra sleep,” you explained, pouring two mugs of coffee, offering them each one. “Plus, I wanted to make you a thank-you breakfast, for being so amazing to me,"

“Careful, doll.” Bucky sidled up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning his chin on your shoulder. "You keep this up and we'll start to think you want us around." He smirked at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"And that's a bad thing?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bucky pressed his lips to yours, before pulling away with a playful grin. "Not in the slightest, doll."

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving." Steve announced.

"Well, that's no surprise," you teased, earning a glare from Steve. "I'll finish making breakfast, you two can sit."

"No way," Steve retorted, snatching the spatula from your hand and taking over. "Go sit."

"Yeah, doll," Bucky added. "You sit. Relax." He nudged you toward the kitchen table.

"Guys, come on, let me help," you insisted, attempting to reclaim the spatula from Steve's firm grip. He playfully held it just out of your reach, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Not a chance," Steve chuckled.

You pouted, "But… I want to be nice to you guys."

"You are being nice, sweetheart." Steve leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead as he placed a tender kiss. "Now, come on, sit. Let us take care of it."

Reluctantly, you complied, settling into a chair and observing as the boys skillfully took charge of breakfast preparations.The sizzle of eggs, bacon, and pancakes filled the air as they expertly flipped them, occasionally stealing glances in your direction. Engaging in casual conversation, you asked, "So, what are your plans for today?"

"Nothing too exciting," Bucky responded, flashing a charming grin your way.

"That's fine," you reassured him. As they finished cooking, they presented a delightful spread in front of you. "Wow, this look delicious, thanks, guys!"

"It was our pleasure, sweetheart," Steve smiled, taking a sip of his coffee.

"We love spoiling you." Bucky grinned, digging into his food.

"But after this, we have some business to take care of," Steve chimed in, his tone serious.

"Business?" You raised an eyebrow, curiously.

"It's nothing for you to worry about, doll. Just a quick trip we need to make." Steve's reassuring words did little to ease the sudden wave of concern washing over you.

You furrowed your brow. "What do you mean?"

"We've got a meeting," he disclosed, taking bite of his food.

Your expression shifted into one of curiosity and concern. "A meeting? With who?" you pressed for details.

They exchanged glances, prompting Bucky to downplay the importance. "It's nothing, doll. Just some boring stuff," he assured with a nonchalant tone.

"Are you sure?" you persisted, a hint of skepticism coloring your expression. The uncertainty in their demeanor was hard to ignore.

"Don't worry about it," Steve smiled, attempting to brush off your concerns with casual reassurance. "Everything will be fine."

You sighed, unable to shake the feeling that there was more to this meeting than they were letting on. "If you say so."

"We do. Now, enough about work. Let's talk about something more fun." Bucky smirked, the mischievous glint in his eye sending a shiver down your spine.

"Like what?" you asked, curious about the direction of the conversation.

"Well, we were thinking..." Steve began.

"About last night," Bucky continued, finishing his best friend's thought.

"Oh." You couldn't help but smile, a subtle blush creeping into your face at the memory of the previous night.

"And we'd like a repeat performance," Steve stated, his expression serious, though a playful undertone was evident.

"Would you?" you mused, feigning ignorance and adding to the playful banter.

"Yes, we would," Bucky affirmed, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes.

"Well, then," you replied with a sly smile, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I suppose that could be arranged."

Your giggles echoed in the room as you enjoyed their company, relishing in the shared thoughts and feelings about the night before. The three of you engaged in lively conversation, delving into the details of the memorable encounter. As the atmosphere remained light and playful, Steve and Bucky reluctantly acknowledged the ticking hands of time, signaling their departure.

"Doll, we’re going to have to leave," Bucky said, glancing at his watch.

"Okay," you nodded, your smile persisting. "Stay safe, you two."

"Always, sweetheart." Bucky kissed your forehead. "Now, why don't you get some more sleep?"

"I might do that." You smiled.

"Good." Steve planted a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"Come on, let's get going." Bucky urged, taking the lead as he walked toward the front door.

"See you later, sweetheart." Steve kissed your cheek before turning to follow his partner.

“Bye, boys." You waved, your smile lingering as you watched them walk out the door, leaving you to your own devices for the rest of the day.

Once alone, you headed back to the bedroom, crawling into bed and snuggling under the covers. Closing your eyes, you let sleep claim you, a content smile gracing your lips as dreams of Steve and Bucky danced through your head.

Last night was indeed the hottest night of your life.

What are your thoughts about the story? If you found it enjoyable, would you like me to pen a part 2? And if so, any ideas or suggestions for the next part?