#captive women tag

[theodysseyofhomer]

Caroline Alexander, excerpts of "Enemy Lines," from The War That Killed Achilles

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

@\hecatesbroom (not tagging so I don't annoy you lmao) has been teaching me how to make gifs, and I'm happy to report I've been using this power for the greater good (to make gifs of beautiful women)

Bonus under the cut:

Three little Elizabeths because I couldn't resist her charm 💙

[crimescrimson]

Red's Favourite Female Characters Of All Time: Faith from 'Telltales: The Wolf Among Us'

[screampied]

ʚ MILLION DOLLA BABY. ɞ ( n. kento )

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. nanami gets dragged to a nearby strip club by his colleague gojo. he insists it’ll help him stop being so pent up and tense from work. there, he meets you—and for some reason, he just can’t keep his hands off your body. perhaps nanami wanted a bit more than just a dance though.

── ◜ ❦◞ wc. 6.0k

── ◜ ❦◞ cw. fem! reader, reader is a stripper, modern au, unprotected, semi-public, ōral (f! receiving), brief gojo cameo, vīrgin nanami, dry humping, lap dance, lots of praise, premature ejaculatıon, size kink, overstim, impact play, breedıng, whiny nanami, teaching him how to touch you, pet names.

you were the star girl,

and the moment nanami had his eyes laid on you it was all over. with his hands buried into his work slacks, his eyes scan around the erotic club. the music blared an unfamiliar tune with salaciously explicit lyrics. he has a look of deadpan as he stands beside his eager colleague, satoru gojo. “c’monn. why so serious, loosen up, nanamin,” he jibes, slinging an arm around the blond. the entire club had pretty luminescence lights flashing in each area. his eyes dart toward the bar before back at gojo who had a scheming grin. “you work too hard, ‘s time you had a little fun, huh.”

“maybe,” he utters, bringing a hand toward his back to scratch near his faint undercut. part of that was true. nanami basically lives in the workplace. overtime was his best friend, and it was the only source of entertainment he had. until now. with a sigh, he skims around the venue full of women. “i’ve never been to these … things before, how do i even—”

gojo hums. “oh, what a coincidence,” and the white-haired male does a subtle waving gesture at a pretty dancer that was currently unoccupied, you. “excuse me angel. yeah, c’mere,” and you sashay toward him with a gentle smile. nanami eyes land toward you and you were so pretty. compared to the other dancers, your outfit wasn’t as revealing. it showed a bit of skin but had just the right amount, perfectly bedazzled and all. your heels clank and clank against the carpet floor before you peer at the revisiting customer. “would you be a doll ‘n take him near the back?”

“right this way sir,” you reply in a sweet coo, and it was a split second of eye contact. nanami felt a hitch in his breath. he’s never been one to be nervous, but it was something about your laid back aura. it was captivating. as you led him toward the secluded vip room, his eyes peek at your back. straps of your lingerie decorate against your skin before he turns away once you face him. “kentooo nanami,” you read his name tag that stuck against his shirt. once he sits down—you notice how stiff he was. with a sly smile, you strut a bit towards him. “is this your first lap dance?”

“is it that obvious?” he murmurs with a timid hum, an attempt to be playful back.

“to me,” you purr, and the locked eye contact makes him realize — you were definitely gonna be his favorite girl for tonight.

the air grew substantially thick, it was so thick that you could cut the invisible tension with a knife.

nanami laid back against the velour cushioned sofa, bringing his hands toward his thighs to allow them to rest on his clenched muscles. his eyes remain on you the entire time, your body and the way your hips slowly sashay and roll toward him.

your cobweb designed fishnets wrap and snake around your thighs like ribbon before you teasingly make him spread his legs a bit more.

“ease up, nanami,” you whisper, the thundering music in the room almost talking over you.

“kento,” he corrects you in a low husky tone, feeling himself get a bit turned on from your touch - your demeanor.

nanami couldn’t keep his eyes off you at all. you toyed with his tie that was neatly tucked into his shirt, literally wrapping it around your finger, wrapping him around your finger. after a second passes, he sighs. “you can call me kento, sweetheart.”

“okay, kento,” and the way you repeated his name back to him did something to him. your words, the undertone of it all - the smoothness. your delivery was as sweet as honey.

leisurely, you make your way onto his lap before you straddle him. his breath hitches immensely, feeling your silk woven attire grind itself against him. your arms wrap around his neck, teasingly moving up and down as you start up your regular routine.

your body, it moves with the constant repetitive beats of the loud pop track playing in the background. you’ve probably heard that same song for about ten times this entire night.

nanami grows quiet, gentle fawn eyes never leaving yours. you were so enticing, hitting every beat with your body as if it was nothing.

the man struggles to contain himself, tips of his stubby fingers desperately fighting the urge to touch you. he knows the policy, gojo rambled to him all about it and how the dancers weren’t supposed to be touched but you made it hard.

so fucking hard—

actually, you made him hard.

that was the point though, as tempting as you were. nanami ogles at your hips and the way it does a few simple twists and jerks. he grunts, and already, you could feel a bit of a hardened bulge.

the warm friction that clings from his pants to your lingerie feels like shocking static. it makes him hurl his head back slightly. you spot his adam’s apple bobbling in rapture before he bawls his fist. “good … god,” he grumbles in a gruff hiss.

the more you move against him, the more he gets a few sweet wafts of your scent. you smelled so good. so sweet, it’s almost peachy. as if your touch wasn’t enough, your aroma had him going crazy. driving him to the first street of absolute insanity. nanami has a nervous grin, eyeing you finally. “forgive me, sweetheart—but i can’t touch you .. like at all?”

you pause with a cunning smile, leaning up close to where you can spot his blond stubble through your peripherals. “hmm, well no. but i wouldn’t mind if you hold my hips, kento.”

you got a smell of his own cologne, it was strong and definitely not the cheap kind. the rich pricey kind that gives you a headache after a while. nanami gifts you a look of what seems to be lust. hesitating, he utters in a soft voice. “can i?”

“go ahead, ‘ken,” and you were just a tease, shortening his name like that. gradually, his hands grab ahold of your waist. you’re still rocking to the steady, booming beats of the song’s chorus before he huffs. you start to pant a little yourself, feeling the tepid heat of his fingertips ghost against your skin. with a playful simper, you lean into his neck, whispering into his collarbone. “that’s it, touch me more. don’t be shy, ‘s good.”

nanami was sober but he felt like his head was spinning. he’s never participated in something so erotic, so … lewd.

it was just a simple lap dance.

he was addicted to the way your hips gracefully went against him. you made sure to rub yourself against his obvious growing bulge, feeling him harden right underneath you. “f- fuck,” he swallows, making sure to not hold onto your skin too tight. he was gentle, a pure gentleman. you’re still moving swiftly before you turn around, having your back face him. he watches with bronze dilated pupils, feeling your rear bump and bump against his zipped fly. “mhm,” he takes a peak at your back again, the moving muscles so pretty that they could be easily painted into a sculpture. you had him enticed, the way you moved was just pushing him further and further toward the edge. “you’re s- so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low but still had a bit of cute awkwardness underneath. you could tell this entire thing was new to him. nanami’s never had a girl straddle against his lap—let alone dance on him.

not in the way you do.

“touch me,” you mumble, grabbing his idle hands. he gasps, watching as you guide them toward your chest. you’re grinding against his lap with an impish closed-eye smile. he’s gingerly feeling you up, thumbs bristling against the glittery fabric that stuck on your skin like glue. “like that, yeah.”

still,

nanami kento was a gentleman.

he made sure not to touch your breasts until you made a gesture that it was okay. he was respectful—something you weren’t that used to. it was a nice new touch. he was savoring your beauty right in front of him. you grabbed both of his broad hands, making him gently feel against your tits and he grunts. you weren’t making this easy, not with those hips.

it seemed as if it was only you and him in the entire world. as his fingers dance near your skin, he feels a faint sharp edge of dollar bills sticking out of your top piece. “so gorgeous,” he says hoarsely, and you found it cute how he didn’t know what else to say except to compliment you. “your curves are so mesmerizing.”

your breath gets caught in the back of your throat for a moment— feeling his warm breath tickle against your right earlobe. nanami was easing up a bit, though he was still a bit nervous. you heard a tiny tremor in his voice, his hands still roaming everywhere on your body from your guiding.

the lap dance lasts for a good ten minutes, though it’s as if time barely passed. it’s as if it was hours,

and as you’re finishing up, you feel a sudden wetness prod underneath your panties. glancing down, you stare at his pants and you hold back a smile. oh, perhaps you were a bit too good. nanami groaned, appearing worn out with blond strands all ruffled. “did you just … cum?”

“i— fuckk,” he swallows a lump in his throat, feeling the embarrassment take over.

nanami definitely came right through his pants. you saw the grey dampening mark - cute. looking at the man, he tried to hide his discomfiture by flashing a smile but it’s just adorable. “no,” he tries to play it off, but not even seconds later, throwing his shoulders down, he sighs with an almost pout. “yeah, i .. did. i came.”

“don’t be ashamed.” you sweetly reassure him, still taking a seat on his lap. you gently brush a thumb alongside his undercut, feeling the stain paint against the outer part of your panties.

nanami stares back at you, and for a moment, his eyes dart toward your lips. they looked so kissable,

he saw the crooked smile on your mouth about to form before you inch closer and closer. teasingly, you finally speak again and your breath fans against his lips. “do you want a kiss, ‘ken?”

you were gonna be the death of him,

he’s already panting. his eyes, mousy brown eyes were all shot and blown—never once leaving your tantalizing hips. “y- yeah, if that’s alright,” he swallows, and you hum. he was covered in nervousness. as if it was an attempt to stop the sudden heat in the room, nanami yanks his tie back and forth. you’re still straddling him, feeling against his prodding boner before strumming a thumb against his lip. “you .. won’t charge me extra for a kiss, right? not that i’d mind, hah.”

“don’t worry, this one’s on me, ‘ken.” you mutter in a sweet voice.

he grunts, the staticky friction scooting against his slacks was almost too much to bare. you felt the outline of his cock and it’s big. with a quick glance, he stares at your lips - shimmery.

the gloss that smothers against your mouth made him want to get a taste. just a tiny taste.

not now but right now.

you were slow, making sure to purposely drag every second. the music continues to blast loudly in the background before you finally close the aching gap between you and the businessman.

nanami groans, his hands having a mind of its own—grabbing and feeling all down your body. you rocked your hips in a playful rotation, swerving all against his lap as your lips crash onto his.

sweet,

you tasted the sweetest you’ve ever been. his heart was racing as his tongue gently glissades near yours, creating a sloppy sultry slope. “mhm.” a raspy grunt escapes out of him, wanting more of you each second. you were a tease, shaking your body against him in such a coy manner.

his boner only grew and you felt it - all of it.

with his eyes flickering, you gingerly ghost a finger down his undercut to hear him moan gravelly into your mouth. it was as if just a little touch from you had him forming into putty.

nanami could taste the brief tang of what tasted like tequila roaming on your buds. so sweet, his head reclines back and you grab a fistful of his collar.

each sway had him lusting for you harder — you peep nanami reaching into his suit pocket, pulling out a fifty dollar bill before sticking it right between your pristine-colored straps. “damn, you’re so pretty,” he grunts, feeling the bulging sensation intensify. and yet, as he’s speaking between hot, wet kisses, he feels you run a finger down his chest. “i want a better taste, sweetheart,” and his hands trace down the curvature of your curves, stopping near your ass.

he wanted that kind of taste,

the taste where you’d be bent over the sofa gasping for air at the sloppy stripes of his tongue work.

nanami didn’t know what he was doing but one thing was for certain—he knew how to make you whine.

he’s never had a taste of something so sweet before. especially nothing a sweet as you,

just a few kitten licks and he was whipped. strands of satiny saliva dribbles past the naturally crooked corners of his lips and onto your cunt. you’re throbbing, failing to keep your legs open as he’s dug face first between you. the noises that echo out of his mouth had you feral — you moan, your own sobbing cries for more being tuned out by the screaming erotic lyrics. “k- kenn,” you huff, using two hands to grab onto his fawn strands.

you’re met with the kindest eyes but oh, the most pussy drunken expression imaginable.

it’s as if he’s been waiting for this day.

his tongue glides against your clit before it turns into quick succulent sucks. it’s loud, you’re panting heavily in irregular breaths before your head tosses itself back. nanami’s on his knees and you bite your lip at the expense of feeling such ecstasy. you’re met with delicate, mahogany eyes which were full of nothing but lust and desire.

usually, you weren’t one to just have a client propped up between your thighs, but if you were being completely honest, nanami was quite easy on the eyes. not only that, but he was patiently tender. his awkwardness only made him ten times more attractive if anything.

it seemed you were his first lap dance and it also seemed that you were his first taste of pussy.

“t- that’s it, ‘ken,” you puff out a single breath, both hands digging into the thin roots of his scalp. he groans, leaning forward as he allows his tongue to do all the talking. nanami slurps against your swollen cunt, adding suction onto your sensitive nub. you’re a whiny mess, seconds barely pass and you’re already rutting your jagged hips against his face.

by now, it’s a shimmery snail trail of your sweetened slick racing down the chiseled areas of his chin. right near the bottom, he made sure to go slow because he wanted to savor your taste.

perhaps maybe this was what he was missing.

you,

his nose gently thrashes against your folds, taking a brief whiff of your scent. your glacé-like scent drove him crazy. nanami grouses a tiny pout, he can’t help but slither a free hand down his beige slacks. you glance down, watching and the thought of him attempting to get off to your pleasure makes you throb. “f- fuckkk.” he grumbles, blond brows contorting together into a slight curve.

nanami was so pent up, his tongue plays with you for a bit, licking against your halfway torn fishnets. they were designed to make it look like it was a spider web . .

soooo pretty, tangled and all.

speaking of tangled,

that was the entire definition of your fingers. you comb each digit swiftly through his strands, yanking his face closer against your dribbling slick.

nanami’s tongue was fragile yet rough - once he started, it was no stopping.

you’re whining over and over until your voice was a broken record. your body slumps back against the fat cushion before you feel your tummy start to heave.

“mhm, look at me, kento. eyes up here baby,” and you’re staring face first with most sweetest eyes.

brown and full of care. a dirty kind of care though.

you continue to massage a hand through his scalp before positioning his head a certain way. “hah, stick out your tongue more. lay it a little flat,” and once he does what you say, twitching muscle collapsing onto your cunt, you moan. “good fuckin’ boy. suck it there, yeah.”

and he groans. lowly, it’s so low that it’s almost a snarling growl.

he didn’t expect for his dick to twitch again. this time it’s not from your taste or even your touch but your words. nanami’s stroking himself, fisting his fat cock with his bare hand before you could almost make out a whine from him.

“say it again,” he murmurs, nose deep into your pussy. and even still, his breath fans against your folds and you were already so so close. you were reaching the breaking point - it was inevitable.

nanami’s staring at you as if he’s pleading for you to repeat your words. pleading for you to praise him once more. “call me that again, sweetheart.”

with a sly smile tugging right onto your lips, you cup his face, giving him a teasing expression. squeezing his pink lips together for a moment, you hum. “oh, you like that?”

“a bit, yeah,” he sighs, feeling the strain in his pants tighten. you had him so hard, so fucking hard. nanami could have came just from the sound of your voice. once you drag his face away from your cunt, a bunch of saliva starts to trickle from the sides of his mouth. it pours out slowly in such a way, it’s as if he forgot what manners were. there was no manners when he was slobbering down your folds with your own slick following from his spit-slick lips. nanami leans into your touch, watching through his peripherals at how you strum a bit of spit away from his mouth before making him nod up and down. “your voice turns me on, pretty.”

“bet it does,” you play along, breath hitching from the rigorously circular rotations of his tongue. he’s so nasty, flicking and sliding it, allowing it to roam through the opening of your slit before sucking mercilessly. you whine, leaning back until you’re all spread with your thighs being pried open from his hands. “good boy, ‘s good. make me cum, ‘ken. can you be a good boy ‘n do that for me?” and you peer down at him, ruffling his already ruffled strands. “y- your tongue can be my tip if you want.”

with a dry chortle, he laughs against your cunt, sucking against your pulsating nub until you’re almost wailing out desperate cries. cool breath fans against your entrance and you swallow, looking down at him. “you’re too kind my love,” and his words were so smooth.

you’re haphazardly jolting and rutting back against the cushioned sofa and pretty much fucking yourself against his face as he’s slurping you clean. dragging his head against your wet cunt with your mouth open, dangling like an earring.

a strong ripple of waves surge out of you before you’re creaming. you’re laid back against the sofa, legs all sprawled open and he’s eating up your expressions everytime. he has a flustered look, tasting a nice amount of even more slick trail down your folds. nanami gulps, pretty long lashes fluttering as he’s relishing in the aftertaste of your candied juices.

your legs felt like they were about to fall off. your orgasm was loud, incredibly falling on deaf ears as the music remains to drown out your lewd sorrows in the background.

“f- fuck, fuckkk,” you drag out in a cute elongated syllable, so dramatic.

the air feels feverishly hot again and you start to fan yourself, glancing down to see a pussy drunk nanami right between your thighs. yet, you’re still riding out your release and he starts sucking your pulsing cunt again. you gasp, squirming with a hand gripping his strands, giving it a solid yank before you moan out his name in pleasure. “ken, oh my g- goddd,” and he’s making out with your pussy. a simple french kiss, tickling the slit open area with the pointed tip of his buttoned nose. “s- sensitive, ‘m sensitive.”

“so good,” he groans and you had to physically pry him face off of your pussy. his tongue, you could still feel it. as you’re looking down, he shoots you a sleazy grin, and removes his hand from his pants. “c’mere.” he huffs through full lungs. a sheet of your tasty arousal drips down his chin, coating his stubble before he leans into you. with your legs still wide and dangling over the cushioned furniture, you feel him go between your legs, softly cupping your chin.

out of breath and out of mind, your eyes become significantly half-lidded.

you moan, feeling his warm plushed lips make haste against yours. it’s sweet, bittersweet.

lazily parting your lips for him to gain access, he slides his own into your mouth, one hand gently caressing every part of your body. he feels against your attire, your skin. the plethora of goosebumps that sets against you, you whine into his mouth before feeling his bare cock rub against your soddened entrance.

it’s hard,

he grunts once you feel it because he feels it too.

again, his cologne gets louder and so does your own aroma. nanami’s session ended a long time ago, but no one could even care about the time limit. already, he started to gain a liking to you. perhaps strip clubs weren’t so bad, not if you were here.

your hand playfully runs down his buttoned up shirt, tugging him closer and you taste yourself on his tongue. for a concise second, it’s a bit sour but it turns …. sweet.

your brows furrow as you lock your legs around him, feeling his mushroom tip prod against your opening. he was growing impatient, so so impatient.

“god, i want you so bad,” he speaks between kisses. nanami’s voice was a low gruff. almost dangerous with how much baritone lingers on his voice. dangerously sexy,

he felt the familiar lump in his throat arise again. it’s as big as a saucer, making him find it hard to swallow down for a second. with your hands running down his chest, he felt a pang of chills surge all down his body. your fingers knew what they were doing, dancing against his body. with rough breaths mashing against each other, he finally breaks away and his forehead touches onto yours. “i need you.”

“what’s stopping you?” you reply breathlessly, and his jaw clenches at the slight tease in your tone.

a tease until the very end,

nanami’s now back to his current position, sat on the squashy cushioned material—once he falls back in defeated surrender, it slouches inward from the weight. all eyes were on you,

he could see a bit of shine glisten near your thighs. nanami’s entire mouth from the chin down was covered. he didn’t even care nor bother to wipe his mouth either, he licks it clean with his tongue, luxuriating in your candied taste. his new favorite treat.

the taste was just a reminder of how good he was devouring you earlier. right near the crevices of your legs, your fishnets were practically torn and he goes manspread. “don’t make me wait, princess,” he grumbles with a cute pout, already developing some kind of attachment to you. this entire thing was new, he’s never tasted something as sweet let alone run his fingers down someone’s pretty cunt that was even sweeter.

with arched brows, you watch as he wraps a hand around his fat base. “want another lap dance.”

“do you want a lap dance or do you want me to give you a ride, ‘ken?” you tease, slowly working your hips toward him. he gulps, the bratiness hiding underneath your tone turning him on ten times more.

you knew what he wanted,

nanami’s dick was pretty. a mushroom tip with a bit of loose foreskin that peels from each stroke of his hand. his cock was hefty too — it had a bit of a downward curve, hanging just from how fat it was alone. you spot a few slanting veins that run down his shaft, decorating his cock and you couldn’t help but lick your lips. rolling your hips to where you’re doing an appetizing belly roll. your rhythm was hypnotic, he studies the way your abdomen curls in such a hot manner. and just like that, he’s hard … again.

as he’s deep in thought, having a little fantasm about you, you gradually take your seat on his lap.

he strums a finger against the beads that wrap around your waist, giving them a playful tug as they lightly thwack against your skin. the beads he didn’t even notice because he was too busy being enthralled by your beauty. “i… need to feel you.” he grunts, hearing the shudder in his voice.

pathetic, maybe,

but he desperately wanted to feel your warmth. his earns burn with torridity before you hover your entrance over his tip.

another song starts up in the background again and it’s loud. the same casual beats of some random tune playing, raunchy explicit lyrics from the singer’s voice. “you want me, baby. you don’t need me,” you purr, and you’re holding back a bundle of your own moans. his tip, it’s sweltering hot, a few splotches of pre-cum coating the top. you grind your hips slowly and he’s already about to lose it. nanami’s head was tilted back to a sexy degree angle and you fiddle with his loose tie some more. “mhm, you’re so tense, ‘ken. relax,” and almost instantly, his dick twitches.

it was barely even movement - barely any friction and yet, just your sloppy cunt was enough to make him cream. and surprisingly, it does.

he doesn’t even go in yet and he’s cumming. nanami groans, pulling you into his chest, hot breaths burying into your neck as he’s painting your entrance with a few spurts of pre. “f- fuck. ‘m sorry. didn’t know i was s- so turned on,” and it’s cute. whilst he’s babbling his sorries into the corner of your neck, you jerk your hips forward into his. slowly, your chaotic rhythm was doing nothing by driving him mad. “god, i- i— i want it. ride me, sweetheart.”

judging from his body language alone, you could tell he’s probably never done this before, experience this.

already, he’s came twice and he’s breathing heavy as if he’d ran a marathon. swiping a thumb over his undercut, you meet his lust-driven gaze. “you sure?”

“m sure,” he nods, entirely breathless. nanami’s unkempt strands of hair ran down his face, making him more attractive, more needy. his lips were glossed and sheeny, covered in your own natural gloss from earlier. his hands wrap around your waist, guiding you to feel him more from the inside. “take my stress away, baby. do your dance on me some more, p- please.”

“lie back ‘n relax, kento.” you whisper against his ear, teasingly licking near his lobe. your hands playfully shove him back. he groans, feeling his body collapse into pleasure against the sofa. it’s a long pause before he feels you starting to make your way onto him. his jaw tightens and he tries to relaxes, he tries but he can’t help but grunts.

it’s so warm inside, parched and hot. your walls were so welcoming, having him on a leash. your pussy gets ahold of him tightly and you’re only just a few inches in. your lips spread open from the stretch, it’s so big and wide that it’s literally hard to miss.

just a few,

inhaling a single three second breath, your arms toss over his broad shoulders and you moan.

nanami was a packer, it was really no secret. he had some girth along with the sides of staggering tall inches. you never give any other customers this kind of treatment so you wondered what made him so different.

nanami’s charm for one, and his adorable awkwardness drew you closer to him … teaching him how to touch you, how to feel you up in all the right ways made you throb regardless.

he sucks his teeth at the curt tightness that made an appearance. you’re getting a front row view of his russet blown irises rolling alllll the way back.

just a few solid inches and he was already drunk from your cunt. a hand trails its way toward the center of your ass - tenderly caressing it from top to bottom as if it was heart shaped.

“ugh, s- so goooood.” he drags out his words, delving his cock more into you. you’re slow, making sure he feels every part. the music grows louder, but even still, it’s like it was just you and him in the room.

the saturated squelches rang and reverb through the thin walls of the vip room - flashing flashy lights creating a type of pearly flash against the rhinestones that stuck against your half-on outfit. nanami’s hands resume to roam and wander everywhere, not missing a single spot of your curves. he was a thorough man.

a very thorough man,

once he’s fully in though, you hear a raspy pant get snatched out of his throat. nanami was finished, you defeated him with ease as if your cunt was the opponent. the second your hips start to rock against him, he’s already groaning. it felt too good. your pussy .. the insides, the heat.

if you squint enough, you could see a bit of drool pouring out of his mouth. “you’re messy,” you tease, leaning in to kiss the side of his lip. he grunts from the simple touch, feeling you dig your knees into his thighs for support. “does it feel good, ‘ken?”

“y- yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a husky tone, eyes half open and a crooked pussy-drunken grin. again, his adam’s apple bobs and you shiver from a brief sensation of frigidness. the cold band of his pricey watch brushes up against your waist. you’re rutting your hips further into him, grinding slowly. nanami’s already feral - and for whatever reason, every time he addresses you as his ‘sweetheart’ it makes you pulsate. “so good, make me feel so mhm, good.”

“touch me more, ‘s okay,” you whisper, hearing his breathing pick up from your words. he was already sensitive and the sweet melodies of your voice was just enough to send him over.

nanami’s hesitant but you reassure him you want to feel his big hands slide down your luscious hips. you want him to guide your hips, you want nanami kento just as much as he wanted you.

maybe this was unprofessional and maybe, just maybe your boss would kill you, but you could honestly care less.

all you cared about was fact you were about to cream all down his thickset cock. your legs zealously rattle against his the more your body rocked. your hips fully matched the beats of the blaring song that played on the broken speakers. and god, you looked so pretty like this. hovering over him, a bill sticking out of your bedazzled bra.

nanami gruffly grunts, feeling his hefty base stick and smack against your ass. each thrust into you was so sloppy, so nasty, he was about to get milked. strands of cum stuck against your ass, occasionally departing as you lift yourself up and down, bounce after bounce.

he licks his lips at the thought, the thought of pumping his entire load into you raw.

“should have came here a l- long time ago,” he confessed, starting to come to the sheer realization that maybe satoru did him a favor. recommending him to one of the top strip clubs in the city. if it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be here right now. he wouldn’t be inside, inside of you, stirring and churning up your insides like butter. “fuck, ‘m gonna c- cum, baby. think ‘m gonna cum.”

leaning up against his ear, you slowly lick a stripe near his neck. “it’s okay, you can shoot inside.”

your words made him hard - harder than he already was.

you felt the sporadic twitch of his cock inside of your goopy cunt the moment you whine your last pre-orgasm words. nanami’s panting heavily, two bare hands gripped onto your waist like velcro. the room started to get cooler and he sighs deeply. “r- really?” he huffs, taken aback. he leaned into your touch, feeling your ass continue to throw itself back forward into him.

each time, every single time,

it makes his ears ring, his teeth shatter, his mouth growing ajar.

nodding, you kiss near his chin, a few blond strands from his stubble gliding against your lips. “yeah, give it to me kento. don’t miss, ‘s okay, promise.”

“o- okay, ‘m not gonna miss, princess,” he swallows thickly. his thighs ached from underneath you. nanami literally couldn’t keep his hands off you. with the stumpy tips of his fingers gently digging into your waist, he groans.

it’s raspy, sloppy thrusts rut back onto him, ricocheting against his skin before within seconds, he came.

nanami’s brain short circuits as he’s emitting another thick load - this time, inside of you.

it’s gooey, sticky and hot, oozing into the very depths of your cunt, dribbling all from the inside. it shoots way up into your womb and you moan, gently biting into his neck. your teeth pierce into him skin softly and he grunts. “good girl, g-good,” he croaks, feeling your body weakly judder into him at full force. he’s short circuiting, feeling such amounts trickle into your sopping pussy. it’s so much that a few of it starts to pour near the sides of your thighs. plugged enough as you were, you suck against his neck in an attempt to suppress your whiney moans. “goddamn, ‘s much. saved so much for you.”

you were so close to him that you felt the numerous beats of his heart pulse against you.

his warmth, nanami wraps a beefy arm around you, pulling you close. still, he’s got his cock buried into your cunt as if it was a coffin, the stretchy clingy grip you’ve got on him has him in a chokehold. a single hand of nanami’s grabs the fat of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before spanking it.

“you’re getting handsy,” you tease him, peppering a few kisses near the bridge of his nose. if you screw your eyes close enough, you could make out a few tiny freckles scattered across his face. “i think we’re gonna close soon, though.”

“oh r- right,” he swallows, glancing down at his designer quartz watch. in a deep voice, he lets off a throaty chortle and a cheeky expression. “ah, it’s almost midnight,” and he knows he has to pay you. he’d never forget. the man reaches into his dress shirt, pulling out his wallet before letting off a shaky sigh. “how much are your usual dances, princess?”

with a sly expression, you stroke a thumb against his chin, taking in his naturally pretty features. nanami was so handsome, especially up close.

he keeps eye contact with you, still having you stuffed full of inches. “i usually charge around twenty.”

quickly, his voice softens. you gasp once he picks you up bridal style, and he pulls out three sets of hundred dollar bills. the most expensive thing though was his smile, because he was whipped out of his mind. you could tell he wanted more.

“how much to take you home with me then?” and you hear a shuffle, he brings his pants back up to his waistline with one hand before pressing a kiss near your forehead. “i can treat you right. besides, i wanna .. spoil you after tonight,” and his voice remained smooth. “i’ll even give you a nice massage,” and he sticks more money right between your bra, still a jittery shake in his tone.

you watch as nanami still has you in his arms, bringing a thumb toward your shimmery cum-filled cunt before swabbing a nice amount of it onto his finger. with hazed eyes, he licks his thumb right off, savoring the taste before speaking in a seemingly teasing tone, still panting. “i’ve always been pretty good with my hands, sweetheart.”

[zhivchik]

4bia (2008)

[pedrospatch]

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line. 

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[bibiana112]

I uh. Highly recommend the letter yes 100% every woman is very mentally ill and problematic, great stuff. I do recommend playing the game yourself as opposed to watching a playthrough, just because there’s a lot of different choices and alternate paths and part of the fun is making your own story. It’s also something that I feel like needs to be played more than once so you can do completely different scenarios. Like I’m sure it’s fine to watch a playthrough, it’s just likely that it won’t properly cover what the whole game has to offer. But eh this could just be the way that I play games

If you do play/watch it though just know that I will be shaking in my boots so apologies in advance 😩

I was gonna tell you I don't have twenty dollars to play that but I went to check and it actually didn't get taxed to hell and back so it's about the same amount I payed for ztd so it's like DEFINITELY affordable– but idk I might still watch at least the intro before there's any choices or just hop videos or something because you don't understand how fucking incapable I am of sitting down to play things I don't already have a 3+ year emotional investment in I have been playing pkmd for almost two years now and I don't even think I hit the middle and that bitch's on my goddamn phone but I refuse to touch anything unless I have the time to concentrate solely on it and I simply do not have the availability atm 😭

[newsfromstolenland]

The Israeli cabinet has agreed to a temporary ceasefire deal that will enable the release of about 50 people who have been held captive in Gaza since the Hamas armed group stormed southern Israel on October 7.

The agreement came after talks on a Qatar-mediated deal that continued into the early hours of Wednesday morning, with Israeli media reporting heated exchanges between ministers of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government.

The prime minister’s office said the deal would require Hamas to release at least 50 women and children during a four-day truce.  For every additional 10 hostages released, the pause would be extended by a day, it said, without mentioning the release of Palestinian prisoners in exchange.

[...]

Hamas, which controls Gaza, also released a statement, confirming that 50 women and children held in the territory would be freed in exchange for Israel releasing 150 Palestinian women and children from Israeli jails.

It said that Israel would also stop all military actions in Gaza and that hundreds of trucks carrying humanitarian, medical and fuel aid would be allowed into the territory.

Full article

Tagging: @allthecanadianpolitics

To be clear, this is temporary, and Netanyahu has already said that Israel will resume its attack afterwards.

[theodysseyofhomer]

people are allowed to ship whatever and they're even allowed to make it fluffy when i think it should be fucked up. i'm not out to police whatever fandom experience people are having with the epic cycle. but if you insist that an enslaved woman is provably happy in a relationship with her captor because... the captor seems to express affection for her, and we are not told how she herself feels, what? what.

there's a failure to imagine these women complexly when you look at briseis reluctant to leave with agamemnon or mourning patroclus, or cassandra afraid to follow agamemnon to their deaths, and say that the only reason could be requited love. like. idk. read between the lines somewhat.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 1/4

(König x F!Reader)

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Word count: 5.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Lol what now? König dual wields 2 swords, goes Mike Tyson on his enemies, teaches his captive girl constellations in German, cuddles her and feeds her grapes, buuut mainly just tries to get into her pants (which historically did not exist at the time) A bit of a slow burn, but don't worry, they'll bang eventually ^^

AD 90, somewhere in the untamed frontiers of the Roman Empire…

The end of the world is here.

Not only have the crops failed for two years in a row, making chieftains beggars and beggars food for the fish, but now there are rumours that the god of war has arrived to destroy the land. The accursed Romans had turned their eagle gaze back to your land after years of sending their troops elsewhere, making it seem like they were not interested in your distant land after all. Untamed, they called it, harsh and barren and therefore inferior – your lush, abundant, beautiful land. No doubt they spat on it in their war councils because your roads were not paved, because your crops and villages were modest, and the women sometimes fought alongside men. Their storytellers immortalized false tales about you, calling you barbarians, but the only barbarians you could think of were the Romans themselves – crude, filthy and boorish creatures, drowning in wine and shit in their cities.

Rumours started to get fat and distressed when the troops approached your village. They said there was a giant at the head of the army, that the Romans followed a Titan's son who loved to eat men, torture women and impale children. They said he didn't accept proper food but preferred to eat his fallen enemies, washed his weapons with the blood of children, and split captured women apart with his cock, as long and sharp as his sword. They told that the Titan ordered his soldiers to poison the wells and destroy the growing crops with salt and vinegar. The rumours said that his tent was bigger than any chieftain's house and that he still struggled to stand at full height inside it. 

Even the land itself seemed to bow before him. Good weather followed his conquest wherever he went; ambushes failed, scouts got caught and tortured, exposing more villages to pillage and ruin. Your brother told you to flee the village, but how could you survive without your clansmen? You didn't know how to hunt; you barely knew how to fish. Your task in the village was to gather clams from the shore, dye wool and help the old Seer. How long could you survive on sorrels and clams alone?  

. . .

The old woman calls you to see her on the brink of war, and tells you to prepare for a ceremonial offering. Two horses, black as night if possible, brown at the very least, to appease the Great Mother of the Earth and quench her thirst for blood. If the Mother is satisfied with your offering, She will perhaps stop the approaching army or convince the Titan to leave your village alone.

She does a small rite before you, and you need to stay with her through her visions. You hate the smell of the leaves she burns, and try to cover your nose with your tunic to prevent breathing in the bitter fumes. The seer looks like she’s just lying herself down to sleep, but it’s always a burden when the spirits arrive and she starts to talk. You turn your back on her to coax them to rise: a mortal stare annoys the chthonic ones. You nearly fall asleep too as you wait, wanting nothing more than to go back to your own hut and have a good night’s sleep. Perhaps because you’re lousy tonight, and less vigilant as you should be, the spirits arrive sooner than either of you thought.

“He’s strong,” the seer croaks from the earthen bed, and you fight the urge to turn around and peek at the old woman, currently in the clutches of spirits. 

“Invincible… Hungry... The horses…won’t suffice…”

She drifts someplace else, and you try to memorize every word, every intonation, as cryptic or as simple as they are, for later interpretation.

“I see you,” she says in a slightly more cheerful tone, which is odd because the old woman is never happy or satisfied, no matter how bright the sun shines or how much food there is in the storages and pits.

“Me?” You dare to speak even though you’re not allowed to disturb the spirits. You could slap yourself for blurting out a single word, but luckily, the hungry ones don’t attack you for your insolence.

“You.. will be his downfall,” she speaks as if you are having a conversation here. “Be there. When he arrives.”

“...Be there? Why?” You dare to utter again, more concerned about what the Mother implies than the potential fury of some lowly earthen spirits. You haven’t got the faintest clue about what She might be suggesting. Why do you have to participate in the battle? How can you be there without getting killed? You’re not a warrior… The Mother has it all wrong. 

Suddenly, you curse the night, you curse the whole day, knowing your brother’s late proposal was perhaps a warning, a hint from the gods to leave, and leave quickly.

The old woman laughs dryly on the ground - the throaty, outright sick cackle makes you flinch. 

You don’t like this... You don’t like this at all.

“Mother. What must I do?” You demand to know, thinking about how all the gods, spirits, old women, and Titans should go to hell.

“Become a tree,” the old woman offers as if it’s the easiest thing to do. “A flower. Me...”

. . .

You become a marten first, then a bird. Then perhaps a tree.

You climb a spruce and wait there. You wait until the sunrise; you wait until noon. You wait until you see the glint of the Roman spearheads and hear the sound of their march.

You’ve dreamed of the Titan ever since you left the seer’s hut. You’ve dreamed of him slaying everyone in the village; you’ve dreamed of him driving a thick spear into the ground and grabbing you with an intent to raise you into the air and impale you on it. You’ve dreamed of him behind you, above you, inside you. You wake up one morning only to see that half of the people have left. You don’t know where they have gone, and you can’t follow them even if you did because the old woman waits for you in front of her hut and gives you a nod the instant you walk into another beautiful, sunny day.

That’s why you’ve turned into a branch in a tree, but for what purpose, you have no idea. You can’t understand why you must be here to witness the world’s end.

Your men scream and shout and roar as they crash into the thick forest of spears. The enemy is silent: it’s eerie, how the world burns and falls into ruin around you, people are screaming; everyone who has a soul and a heart is screaming for Mother as they die, but the men behind the Roman shields refuse to emit a sound. They don’t curse or shout or summon their gods; they simply stand their ground and pant mist into the air as wave after wave of men break on their shields and die before their feet. Somebody loses his spear because it gets stuck between your clansman’s ribs, but the Roman simply draws his sword in its stead: it’s the only sound among the pitched wails that cut through the forest – the cold, clear ring of a gladius being pulled from its sheath.

That is why you flinch at the sound of the first shout, a brutish command that sends all the shields to the side, only to present more shields: the Romans switch positions in their formation as if they’re not even human beings like the rest of you, just a single enormous creature made of iron and leather and bone, operating it's flat forest of weapons.

And then you see him: the giant of your dreams, the hungry titan everyone has told you about. He rises from the tide of helmets like a summoned god, concealed as one of the soldiers and only now revealing his true nature. He stands at least two heads taller than the rest, pushes his own soldiers to the side and breaks out of the formation these vicious Romans love so much. You knew he would be strong and big, but you didn't know he refused to show his face… You wonder what kind of a monster hides behind the black cloth with nothing but two eye holes ripped on it. As if this man needed the additional effort to stand out from other soldiers...

He's like a God of War, just like the survivors said: his armour is of Roman design, but the amount of metal that had to be scraped together to cover this man's shoulders and chest must've demanded a fortune in gold. He doesn't seem to care about the Roman ways, however: he throws his shield away as soon as he's out of the cumbersome formation as if he has carried it only as a decoration up until this point. He draws another sword in its stead – if any other man did such a stupid thing, traded his shield for a weapon, you would snort. But not now.

Standing between the Romans and your clansmen like a challenge, a threat, a deity, even the men possessed by the seer's blood spells hesitate to approach him. But when they do, the god unleashes carnage: the first warrior gets his stomach slashed open, and the two thick swords look like toothpicks when wielded by this man. A stomach wound is a gruesome, slow way to die - but just before the warrior's entrails spill to dangle between his feet, the brute grants him mercy by sweeping his head off with a single blow of his gladius. 

A roar finally rises from your enemy: they cheer Death on as the head of your neighbour meets the mud next. The soil is already soaked in blood, but the Mother is hungry still. The forest booms with Her bloodlust as the god moves around like a slow tempest of muscle, metal and darkness: he breaks every Roman rule by fighting as his own man instead of demeaning himself as one of them, a lowly part of this odd metal beast before you. He sends a limb flying in the air with a swing of a sword; he uses the same weapon as a bludgeon to bash in someone's skull. He crushes a man's chest simply by sinking down onto one knee, breaking bone, tendon and flesh to splinters as a whole ribcage gets crushed under his massive weight. 

Warriors flee before him, they fall under the combined wrath of the Mother and the Titan's sword. The dead seem to fall eternally, along with your heart, before meeting the ground with a hollow thud. 

Your chieftain is among the last men standing, meeting this unstoppable foe with admirable courage. Not having succumbed to the spells of bloodlust in years, he meets his death as a seasoned but old warrior. With his fighting years behind him, your chief doesn't have a chance against this man, but you have to grant the beast a feather's worth of honour, because he recognizes your chieftain as the veteran he is and salutes him with his sword. Then he proceeds with the bloodbath: flinging your leader's sword and axe easily to the side, he walks straight into his arms like he would into a hug, grabs him by the waist, and raises him into the air like he's nothing but a child. 

Your scream never leaves your lungs as you watch how the Titan raises the draping cloth from his face, just enough to sink his teeth into your beloved chieftain’s neck. The noise that erupts from your elder is not that of a man but a tortured animal. It’s not from this world, what you witness next: the giant tears a hunk of flesh from your chief like he’s a piece of roasted meat. Blood streams forth, his screams fade away all too slowly, and you hear your own weak wail in the air as the Titan lets go of the heap that used to be a strong male and a wise leader. 

Your chieftain is dead; his essence spills to the earth in spurts to appease the God of War, who spits blood and flesh to the ground, making you gag into the cold spring air. 

Then he raises his swords towards the sun, and the forest erupts into a roar with him: the thundering, ear-splitting cheer from his warriors makes the very earth quake beneath your tree. It seems to shake the branches of the forest, and before you know it, the giant’s howl of triumph breaks the one you’re curled around, and you fall, fall, fall into the mud beneath you. 

You're not a tree anymore. No: you’re very much a human woman there in the dirt as the sound of shouting ceases like a distant dream. 

And he turns. 

Death turns.

Mother always said you were a curious creature, which is perhaps why you search for his eyes, even though you should be running. She also said you were a smart one, which is why you know that running is futile. Your limbs wouldn’t carry you far anyway. It is a cruel joke from the gods to have what little strength you have left pour out of you into the ground and up to the feet of the enemy who is already strong, both in body and in will.

The Titan looks at you with genuine wonder, a curiosity that surpasses your own. To your odd thrill, you find that his eyes are blue: the same blue of the sea which you used to collect delicious clams from. 

The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

You had hoped for a swift death… Violent but quick. But it’s clear that it’s not death he has in store for you as he takes a step towards you. It’s not a quick nor a slow death; it’s not death at all, because–

No.

No.

You’d rather have your arms torn off and fed to the Romans rather than have him thrust the sword between his legs, his third weapon, inside you. If you’re going to die screaming, it will not happen on your back; you will not amuse this beast with your womanhood and tears.

You scramble forward to pick up something, anything: a bronze dirk from a fallen warrior. The giant’s eyes fall on the sad excuse of a weapon, then on the sorry excuse of you. He thinks you’re planning to fight him with that thing, and the corners of his eyes crease a little from the prospect of having to subdue you. You’re proving to be quite the entertainment, and you curse those eyes, looking so kind and lively when just moments ago, the same eyes were inhuman and possessed. His are the eyes of a wayfarer, a wanderer, not a soldier: you catch a hint of sadness in them and curse again.

He’s not human, you remind yourself and show him what actual humans are made of. What women are made of. You give him another name, Giant, because you’ve always feared giants and hated the stories about them. Dumb and reckless creatures they are, stupid destroyers who always place their trust in their size. You never meant to fight him, and he only catches up on it as you turn the dagger towards yourself and guide it to point straight at your heart. 

You will be his downfall, just like the seer said.

“Nein–Warte,” the Giant speaks his first words, surprisingly soft to belong to a man like him. 

The sorrow in his stare consumes you in full now. It gushes forth like a tide, causing your breath and hands to shake when they need to be stern. You straighten your spine, jut your chin forward, and call for Mother: you don’t even know if you’re yelling for your bearer, or the Great Mother, or the earth that gives life to all. Perhaps you call them all to gather around and witness your sacrifice, higher in price than any of the Titan’s offerings combined. The blood you’re about to spill onto the soil will surely appease the land and raise it to arms to finally fight against this beast. 

He says something else just before you pull the blade back to strike it into your chest, and you curse for the third time in your mind: giants aren’t supposed to move that fast; they aren’t supposed to interfere in your last ritual. 

But the worst of it is that even when he finally subdues you, even as he wrestles the blade away from you, he ends up drawing a large gash on his forearm… As if he is trying his best to protect you from accidentally cutting yourself.

. . . 

You are brought to his tent, screaming. 

It’s not as big as a chieftain’s house; it’s barely the size of yours. But it is larger than the tents you saw when you got carried there: as a spitting, screeching, hissing package of what these brutes would no doubt consider a true barbarian woman with uncivilized manners and a fuckable cunt. They will talk about you around their campfires tonight: about you getting broken in by their true commander. It’s enough to satisfy them for now: to imagine their champion to fuck you bloody and sore. And who knows: perhaps they’ll receive the scraps if the Titan gets tired of you.

The precious dagger is somewhere in the mud, probably trampled there like it’s nothing but a piece of worthless metal. Your own trampling is only about to begin as the Giant marches into his abode and sends the men away, giving you uneasy looks in the process, perhaps checking if any of them had enough time to have a go at you. Luckily for him, you’re in the same condition as he left you: legs together, safe and pretty, because he bound them with a rope along with your hands. You are nothing but a delivery, thrown on the floor of dirt and a few animal skins. He just nods at you, happy to acknowledge that you are untouched by the others, as if it would somehow be worse for you to be raped by ten of those petite men than be raped by him: a cruel, bloodthirsty Giant with a giant cock. 

Your ankles and wrists get sore as you watch him doff his armour. He takes off the helmet, the belted straps, the segmented plates of his shoulder guards and the heavy Roman cuirass. The gods have truly favoured this man, not only gifting him tremendous height but insurmountable strength too. His muscles are large and lean and quiver with latent power as he moves; his back is so broad it almost competes with the wide mouth of the tent. He doesn’t seem to suffer from the cold either, but he keeps his mask on for whatever ghastly reason. Even if there is a monster under that mask, his body speaks of virility: he’s a man in his prime, a giant at his strongest, making you feel like an elf, a tiny little creature in the feet of this man who must be descended from titans indeed.

You continue to watch as he washes his hands in a small basin, cleans his mouth and neck, too. You reckon the water in that bowl is blood red and dark when he finally dries himself with a white cloth. He stands before you in nothing but his mask and the dark red tunic he had under the armour. He ties it from the waist with a simple leather belt, and it only now makes sense to you why Roman soldiers dye their clothes red: you’re pretty sure you can still see the darker spots on the hem of that tunic, the ones that used to be the lifeblood of your clansmen and kin.

He has the audacity to ask you - wordlessly - to clean his wound, the one you caused him. He sets you free from your bounds, and you are given fresh water and another cloth. He even opens a smallish wooden box of salve that has a familiar smell to it: pine tar and honey, used by your people to treat minor wounds and prevent bad spirits from getting into the wound. You wonder how he even knows about such a balm: is this warrior a Roman at all, or is he some odd creature hauled from the edges of the world to fight for them? You wonder if he has made the salve himself, extracted the tar from the pine and foraged the wax and honey himself, then cursed with his coarse language when he got stung by multiple bees…

You drive away the thoughts that threaten to make this brute human by snorting at his injury. The damage he gave to himself when he tried to guide the blade away from you at the price of his own blood. 

It still troubles you that he did it. Even a tiny wound like this can bring any man down if it starts to fester. The cold winds and rains of spring can easily get into the gash and make it rot. 

The idea of this giant being forced to his knees because of some filthy dagger wielded by a squirrel of a woman makes you smile inside. It would be a fitting fate for this man. But the vision also makes your heart sting. The thought of him dying of a simple flesh wound, alone and far away from his home, makes your heart grow kinder than it should. 

You decide there is nothing you can do but treat his arm, strong and scarred from previous battles. He sits down while you get to stay on the ground, and you try to ignore it that your face is now level with his groin. He sits with a wide spread in those powerful thighs, and you wonder if it's because the rumours about his cock are true. You keep your eyes everywhere else except the hem of that tunic and what's going on under there. He purrs at your touch, making it clear that it doesn't need much more than your soft fingertips to get him hard after a triumphant day on the field of battle. 

The wound is not deep, but you clean it carefully, trying to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into you as you take care of him. Your hand is somewhat steady as you treat the damage with the nice-smelling salve, but you flinch as his hand suddenly meets your cheek. You look up at him, heart plummeting, thighs instinctively pressing together from the gentle way with which he cups your face.

“Schön,” he says, again with a tender voice and an adoring, almost worshipful stare. You don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but you know now for sure that it's not the tongue of the Romans he speaks. The scent of pines and bees lingers between you as he brushes a thumb over your lower lip. You are weak enough to give him a breath, a helpless, hot little exhale that meets his hand like a gift.

“Schön wie eine Fee,” he rumbles, sounding intoxicated or like he's under a spell of sleep.

“What the hell are you saying,” you whisper in your own tongue: just a meek little sputter, a tiny, horrified breath, but the giant’s eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sie redet,” he says happily, and your shoulders sink – you are on the verge of screaming from frustration alone. Whatever you do seems to only amuse this man, and you snap your mouth shut. Your cheeks heat up with recurring waves of odd fever. The ground beneath your shins is all but warm, and yet you feel warm all over: a dangerous sign, you know, and oddly tied to the peculiar bodings you have seen all week.

Because there have been many omens in the air lately. 

It’s just that none of them were portents of war. 

The cranes started to mate early this year, and you have found a lot of clams from the shore every day. Even your brother encountered a boar with nine piglets; everyone celebrated him as some holy man who had seen the Great Mother when he returned to the village that day. The wind started to blow from south soon after, and the moon has grown along with your womb: this morning, on the brink of war, you woke up wet and restless. 

All the omens speak of fertility, of growth, of a new cycle and of birth: of spring and life. There’s nothing about death and decay, nothing except what the people have told you about… him. The death himself. The war god.

“König,” he says as if he can hear your thoughts and wishes to correct them. You look up and see he’s pointing to himself, or rather, holding his hand over his heart. You fight the urge to scoff at the gesture. As if this beast had a heart…

“König,” he repeats the word and pats his chest, and you realize he’s trying to tell you his name. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, and he smiles. It’s easy to tell when he does, even with the cloth that covers his face: you can see the joy clearly from his eyes, the boyish grin that must be occurring under that mask.

“Du?” He points at you next, inquisitive. He has an odd way of pointing: with two fingers, slightly crooked, and you understand very well what he’s asking of you. You refuse to tell him your name, however, settling for pouting a lip at him next. The smile in his eyes only deepens.

“Fee,” he pokes you gently on the shoulder and leans back in his odd Roman chair, seemingly content with having now named you. 

And Mother was right: you are curious, so incredibly curious to know what this beast has chosen to call you and why. Are you a rat to him…? Some bird? Perhaps simply a girl?

He is so pleased with your conversation that he pours himself some wine and drinks the whole cup with one gulp. Great, you sigh inside your head, a beast and a drunkard. He pours another cup and tries to offer it to you, and when you don’t make a move to grab the clay mug, he brings it to your lips. You entertain him with a tiny sip: you’ve heard of wine and know that Romans are fond of it, but you have never tasted it yourself. 

The tart, bitter flavour almost makes you cough. You thought wine was supposed to be sweet: everyone always describes it as something like milk or honey or juice from an overripe apple. It very much is not, and you almost choke on it and then make a wry face at your captor. He - König - only laughs. It’s another thing that catches you off guard: first those boyish, sad eyes and now this hearty, grown man’s laugh. You have proved to be such an amusement to him that he doesn’t force you to drink any more wine and enjoys the rest of it himself. 

Then he rises and makes you shrink from him again, towers above you for a moment, and looks at you with that warm curiosity that makes your heart race.

“Müde?” 

He tilts his head, the bag of darkness shifts, the blue eyes behold you fondly, and for some reason, you whimper an answer to yet another question you can’t even understand. He takes your little squeak as a yes and falls to crouch before you, then raises a massive hand to the leather strings that keep your demure little dress up. 

To your horror, he pulls the knotted tangle open before you can stop him. Your dress falls from your shoulders and drops to pool around you, and you simply and verily stop breathing.

His eyes wash over you, he examines every little part of exposed skin like an entire treasure chest has suddenly opened before him. You pray to all the gods that he would find it in his heart to be gentle tonight. Your nipples perk up – from the cold or from his stare, you don’t know. 

The rough callous of his palm meets your breast and encloses it in warm support. He cups you, weighs you like he would a fruit, and then he squeezes you, rather hard, too: a deliberate attempt to make you squeal again. He replies to your pathetic mewl with an approving rumble, and you look up at him with all the helpless tenderness of the Mother, hoping that Her gentle pleas might persuade this man not to hurt you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, and his eyes dart to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. He immediately softens his touch. Then he lifts you from inside your poor dress, picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to his broad bed, the sturdiest you have ever seen. 

This man feels like the strangest of fates, like a hopeless destiny, as he sets you on the skins and straw mattress, right next to your fluttering heart. Your insides ache as he undresses before you, entirely without shame. He’s hard under the tunic he rips off and tosses on the cold ground. Your eyes are glued to the legendary cock you’ve heard so much about, the cock that splits women apart: and it’s true that it's huge. It resembles the ones you’ve seen on horses, not on men, and your thighs are glued together as he comes next to you while that pale, monstrous cock sways long and heavy between his thighs. He moves you around a little, and you squeal from how weak you feel: weak as a mouse as he covers you with one of those rich furs he has in plenty on the bed. Then crawls under it too, right next to you.

Your heart almost wrenches itself out of your chest as a strong arm pulls you against him: the swell of your ass meets his thighs, solid and broad like treetrunks, and your lower back meets the hot, almost too hot horse cock. It starts to leak and throb against your skin the instant your flesh is pressed against his. You try not to whimper and moan as the Giant, König, curls around you like you two have always done this.

He takes a long, earnest inhale from your neck and hair, rumbles deeply and contently, and tightens his grip. Apparently, you smell and feel good… 

You wait and wait to be plundered and raped, but König only settles for holding you tightly, like you’re a children’s toy made of the softest straw and purest undyed wool. You relax slowly, and he purrs against your back, starts to fondle your breasts, ardently, until your body betrays you and you find yourself wet again; he squeezes and squishes your teats slowly, approvingly, then pinches your nipple once before finally falling into a heavy, deep sleep.

…

Please forgive your author for any historical inaccuracies and other silly things you find facepalmable <3 During this time König would've probably spoken some form of Old Saxon but since I'm not a TOLKIEN we have to settle for modern-day German here. I don't have a taglist for this fic so please check my pinned masterlist for future updates.

Translations

Nein, warte - No, wait

Schön - Beautiful 

Schön wie eine Fee - Beautiful as a fairy

Sie redet - She talks

Du? - You?

Müde? - Tired?

[gubsbuubs]

Friendly Cupid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 5K

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, slow burn? smut, creampie.

Summary: Despite their closeness, Y/N and Spencer's relationship always stayed within the bounds of friendship. That's until a very fateful Valentine's Day, when a friend decided to play cupid.

A/N: Hi my loves! The "Friends to Lovers" trope won the poll, thanks to your votes. Any thoughts or suggestions for what's next? I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

My requests are open!

English is not my first language.

The team basked in a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment as we settled into our seats on the jet, heading back home after successfully closing another case. The subtle hum of the engines seemed to echo the collective satisfaction that enveloped us.

We had just finished a case where the unsub targeted individuals with a deep passion for books. Each victim was chosen based on their preference for a particular literary work. The killer orchestrated scenarios inspired by famous novels, challenging us to decipher the connections between the crime scenes and the literary references.

From my seat across from his, at the meeting table in the Nevada police department's, I observed Spencer in awe. His deep concentration, the way his fingers danced over the pages, and the thoughtful furrow of his brow—he looked so handsome, absorbed in the task of perusing a pile of books that would have taken me at least two years to read.

I cherished watching Spencer at work; his intellect, passion, and dedication were captivating. There was an undeniable admiration that had grown within me as we spent countless hours in shared pursuit of justice.

I vividly recall the first time our connection became something more. After a grueling case left him drained, slowly succumbing to fatigue, his head found refuge on my shoulder during the flight back. It was an unexpectedly intimate encounter—his tousled hair brushing against my neck and the faint scent of lemon shampoo lingering close to my nose. Though innocent, the closeness left an indelible mark, and often I think about the weight of his head resting against me.

Fast forward to another sweet moment; it was forever engraved in my mind when I first noticed that he cared for me. Spencer and I were staked out in a park that an unsub used to frequent in Boston. The autumn winds whispered through the colorful foliage, and the chilling breeze made my arms shiver. It was getting cold, and I scolded myself for not bringing my jacket. Spencer, ever observant, noticed how I hugged myself for warmth and asked, "Hey, are you cold?"

"What? No, it's just a bit chilly, but I can take it," I chuckled, my teeth almost clacking against each other as I shivered.

"I can clearly see you're cold, Y/N."

"Okay, fine. I may be a little bit cold; we left in a hurry, and I forgot my jacket," I admitted.

Without hesitation, he took off his FBI jacket and handed it to me. "No, Spencer, I can't accept this. If it's cold for me, it will be cold for you too," I protested.

"Compared to men, women have less muscle, which is a natural heat producer. They also have 6 to 11 percent more body fat than men, which keeps the inner organs toasty but blocks the flow of blood carrying heat to the skin and extremities." He started to ramble while holding the jacket in front of me.

So I gave up, not wanting to hear him talk about this for the rest of the night, and accepted his offer. As the jacket touched my body, I could still feel his warmth, and the scent of his perfume enveloped me. His tall stature made the jacket too big for me, and I struggled with the oversized jacket's zipper. Looking down as I tried to zip it, I felt his hand on mine. "Hey, come here! Let me help you." I looked up to meet his beautiful brown eyes as he held his gaze on mine. His gentle hands zipped up the jacket. "There you go; now you'll feel warm," he added with a sweet smile.

We had a connection—an undeniable force drawing us together. For example, with Spencer and I, the casual "sorry, Y/n, passing through" was never just a phrase; it accompanied the gentle press of his hand on my side.

When shared laughter ensued, it almost always led to a playful nudge against my shoulder, a light and affectionate gesture.

And there were times when Spencer would reach out with a reassuring touch on my arm during tense discussions or a challenging moment. His fingertips, feather-light yet grounding, conveyed a silent reassurance that we were in this together.

I’d like to think that our connection extended beyond the realm of solving cases and catching serial killers, finding roots in those quiet spaces between words, because unspoken sentiments resonated louder than any conversation we had.

These simple and innocent touches left me curious, especially considering Spencer's general aversion to physical contact, often sidestepping handshakes. Each touch, though understated, carried a significance that lingered, prompting me to ponder the depths of our friendship.

Yet, somehow, we were never more than friends. Perhaps because of the lingering fear of disrupting the delicate balance we had, I hesitated to act upon the emotions that quietly blossomed within.

So, Spencer and I stayed comfortably within the boundaries of friendship, keeping the unexplored depths of our connection confined to the realm of what-ifs and maybes.

Rather than risking it all, I chose the simplicity of silent observation and opted for the quiet intimacy of just watching him while he worked. There was an unspoken fascination with witnessing Spencer's mind at play.

The breakthrough came when Spencer uncovered a pattern in the victims' book preferences, his face lighting up at the realization. The Unsub, it seemed, orchestrated his killings based on the ominous narratives found within these chosen novels. Each victim unwittingly acquired a literary prelude to their tragic end as the killer turned the pages of their lives into a haunting script of their own demise.

With this knowledge, we were able to predict the next target and swoop in just in time to prevent another tragedy. The final confrontation took place in an abandoned library, where the unsub attempted to stage his twisted interpretation of a tragic love story. With swift and coordinated action, we thwarted his plans and brought justice to the victims.

So, with the unsub's twisted plans foiled, we found solace in the fact that we had saved the couple from his dark intentions.

Amidst the chatter on the jet, the mood shifted to a more relaxed and celebratory tone. The weight of the case had dissipated, replaced by a comforting conversation and shared laughter.

"Hey, Prentiss, any hot plans for Valentine's Day? Morgan teased, giving Emily a mischievous grin.

"Valentine's Day? Seriously, Morgan? After all the chaos of this week, I just want a quiet night with a good bottle of wine," Emily responded, leaning further into her seat.

"Valentine's Day is this weekend, and I completely forgot! Will and I will have to just stay at home," JJ confessed, sounding a bit bummed.

"Well, Beth and I will be taking Jack to the cinema to watch a movie. Would you like us to also take Henry so you and Will can have a date?" Hotch offered.

"Oh, Hotch, that’s very sweet. If you don't mind, yes! We would really appreciate it," JJ replied gratefully.

"What about you, pretty boy? Got any plans?" Morgan playfully mussed up Spencer's hair.

"Well… I…” He cleared his throat. "I, um… I actually do have a date," Spencer stammered, his face immediately turning a bright shade of red.

"A date, Reid? Come on, spill the details. What's her name?" Morgan proceeded to probe.

“It's a blind date, so I'd rather not jinx it by talking about it.” Spencer spoke with a faint smile.

As I learned about Spencer's date, I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the sheer coincidence—both of us had blind dates on Valentine's Day. What were the odds?

Then it hit me, and as much as I tried to dismiss it, there was a subtle pang of envy that Spencer also had a date. I understood the irony of feeling jealous while I was also going on a blind date this weekend.

Earlier that week, my friend from the previous division I worked in—International Affairs and Counterterrorism—set me up with a guy. According to him, this guy was perfect for me—smart, kind, and seemingly attuned to my taste. So, I've decided to give it a shot and go on this date. It was Valentine's Day after all. So yes, I was also going on a date, and I acknowledged how contradictory it sounded to feel envious of Spencer's date. Nevertheless, a twinge of jealousy lingered.

Yet, in the grand scheme, I genuinely wished for Spencer to have a fantastic time this weekend. After all, we were nothing more than friends, and his happiness was something I truly valued.

Morgan, with a playful glint in his eye, turned his attention to me and chimed, "Alright, Reid's stepping into the world of romance, so what's the deal, Y/N? Any Valentine's plans on your agenda?"

"No, I don't really have plans. It'll be a normal weekend for me." I spoke with a smile, gently sidestepping Morgan's inquiry. I preferred to keep certain aspects of my life private, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Saturday night came around pretty quickly.

I chose a simple red dress and black stilettos for the occasion—it was Valentine's Day, after all, and opportunities for dates were not a frequent occurrence for me. Since joining the FBI, I haven't had many opportunities to look like this. Typically reserved for pantsuits and white shirts, it was refreshing to see myself look so put-together.

What awaited me on this evening could be a mistake or, just maybe, the start of something unexpectedly wonderful. Despite the flutter of reservations in my stomach, I resolved to push through the uncertainty.

Before stepping inside, I paused at the entrance, reminding myself to take a deep breath; it was just a date after all—no need to be nervous. The restaurant, my absolute favorite, bore the name "Bella Luna," renowned for its delectable pastas. It had become my go-to spot for a delightful meal, offering a perfect blend of cozy ambiance and culinary excellence.

My friend, the mastermind behind this blind date, had given the gentleman a specific directive: reserve the table with a view of the river—my favorite spot in the house. This strategic move not only catered to my preferences but also had the practical benefit of simplifying the identification of my date.

As I stood by the entrance, lost in my thoughts, I almost jumped, caught by surprise, as someone bumped into me. "Hey, where were you goi..."

“Y/N! Hi!” His eyes were widening with surprise as he recognized me.

“Spencer! Hi! I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing. Didn’t you say you didn’t have plans?” He asked in an inquisitive tone.

"Yeah!" I laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I, uh, decided to give in to the Valentine's Day spirit, I suppose." Spencer chuckled softly, his warm demeanor putting me at ease.

"How are you anyway, feeling good about your blind date?" I inquired, genuinely curious about his well-being.

"To be honest," he admitted, "I'm actually kind of nervous."

"What? Why?"

He hesitated before sharing, "What if she doesn't like me?"

"Why wouldn't she like you?" The words left my mouth so fast, a testament to my incomprehension of how someone could not like the guy standing before me.

"Because I'm weird. I slouch; my hair's too long; my tie's perpetually crooked." His words were almost a whisper, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

I smiled softly, reaching  my hands to fix his crooked tie. "Here, your tie is now straight. And Spencer, you're not weird; you look really good tonight. I think you'll do very well."

He smiled softly, thanking me, and said, "Well, you do too! You look very beautiful tonight, Y/N.” My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. He blushed slightly before adding, “I should really get going. I don't want to be late for my date.”

“Go get him, tiger,” I encouraged with a smile as I stayed behind, watching him leave.

Fuck, he looked so good; his dark blue suit fit him in all the right places. Though not a radical departure from his usual attire, the effort put into his appearance fueled my jealousy. The realization that he was heading on a date with someone else lingered in my thoughts, intensifying the sting.

To make matters worse, we´re at the same restaurant, and I would have to endure the evening watching him, attempting to engage in my own date while inwardly yearning for his company.

The challenge would be to keep my eyes from straying towards him, wishing the girl by his side was me.

Shaking my head to dispel thoughts of Spencer, I took a deep breath before entering the restaurant. I traversed the restaurant, consciously keeping my head down until I arrived at the table with the view of the river, and it was only then that I allowed myself to look around.

To my surprise, when I looked at the table, I found Spencer sitting there.

Confusion clouded my mind as I stood there, staring at Spencer, seated at the table, facing away from me. Disbelief hung in the air like a heavy fog. This had to be a misunderstanding; it couldn't be Spencer. My friend John specifically directed the blind date; he arranged for me to sit at this table, but Spencer was here.

The possibilities raced through my mind like a whirlwind of uncertainty. Did the receptionist make an error? Could there be another table with a view of the river where they seated my actual blind date? Could this guy look a lot like Spencer from behind? My thoughts spiraled into a maze of questions, each more perplexing than the last. I was caught in a web of doubt, trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

Could Spencer and John know each other? How would they even know each other? Although we all work at the FBI, they work in totally different divisions.

As I approached the table, just a few feet away, I confirmed my suspicion: it was him—Spencer. Even though he wasn't facing me, I recognized his curls, almost catching a whiff of his distinctive perfume. It was undeniably him. How did this happen?

My heels clacked on the ground, a sound that drew Spencer's attention. His gaze shifted, expecting another woman, preparing for a polite greeting. "Hi, nice to meet y…” His words now caught in his throat.

As I pulled the chair and sat down in front of him, he halted his movements, confusion etched on his face. It seemed like he was ready to stand up, perhaps shake hands, and greet another person. But as he realized it was me, his expression transformed into one of utter bewilderment.

"Y/N, what is going on?" Spencer asked, his face a mix of confusion and concern as he settled back into his chair.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on the table. "How do you know John Watters, Jonathan Watters?" I questioned, peering at him with an intense gaze.

"What? What do you mean, Y/N?" Spencer replied, clearly confused by the sudden turn of events.

"Spencer, how do you know John?" I repeated, my eyes locked onto his, seeking an explanation for the unexpected twist in our supposed blind date.

"John Watters and I play chess in the park. We met a couple of months ago, and now we play together regularly," Spencer explained, his confusion still evident in his expression. “Y/N, what is going on?” he added, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Spencer…” I began, a faint smile creeping onto my face as it reddened, my hands immediately meeting my face. It dawned on me; John had set us both up, and it seemed he might not have known Spencer and I already knew each other.

I could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes widening. He seemed to have a eureka moment. "Do you know him?" he asked, his tone still a little unsure. I only nodded, my faint smile hidden behind my fingers, covering how embarrassed I was.

Then Spencer fired questions left and right. "What? How do you know John?” He set you up with me. Like… did you know? You wanted to have a date with me and asked him to do it? I mean, I have talked…." He was blushing like crazy, so I decided to interrupt.

"No, No... I mean, yes, but..." I stumbled on my words as I tried to answer. "I do know John, yes, but I didn't know he set us up... But yes, I wouldn't... I wouldn’t mind a date with you." The last part slipped my tongue way too quickly, the confession escaping my lips.

"Are you serious? A date with me?" He sounded excited but mostly surprised.

"I mean, we're already here, so we might as well do it. He clearly thought we were a good pair," I offered, keeping my head down. My face felt hot, and I was smiling like a stupid little kid.

“I can't believe this; I can't believe this is happening. You don't know how long I've been trying to gather the courage to ask you out, and now this is happening." His head fell back as he inhaled deeply. “Is this real? Can you pinch me, Y/N? You look so pretty, so beautiful. I can't believe this is actually happening. I must be dreaming." His excitement was palpable, and his gaze was fixed on me with a mix of joy and disbelief.

“You're definitely awake; this is real!” I reached out my hand to him and held his hand. “See, this is real—a very strange coincidence, but undeniably real.”

The evening unfolded gracefully. Spencer took my recommendation, and we ordered the Carbonara, complemented by a shared bottle of Cabernet. I couldn't help but savor the moments when our laughter harmonized, creating a melody of shared joy. A subtle warmth spread across our faces, not just from the ambiance but also from the wine. Our laughter became a touch more carefree, perhaps a little tipsy, adding an extra layer of delight to the evening. The restaurant seemed to fade into the background as we continued to enjoy each other’s company.

As the plates were cleared away and the restaurant emptied out, Spencer's gaze remained locked on mine. We sat in silence for a little bit as a warm feeling settled, enjoying the lingering aura of the evening. Spencer smiled softly, leaning closer to me and taking my hands in his. "Let me walk you home," he suggests. "It's a beautiful night, and I'd love to spend more time with you."

As we stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights played on the surface of the river, casting a gentle glow on our path. Spencer and I began to stroll along the riverbank towards my apartment. The soft murmur of the water provided a soothing background to our conversation, and amidst our banter, our attention was drawn to an old lady with a basket of roses.

"Hello there," the old lady said, greeting Spencer with a twinkle in her eye. "Would you like to buy a rose for your beautiful girlfriend?"

"Oh, but I'm not his girlf..." Before I could clarify, Spencer, wearing a confident smile, chimed in, "Yet..." He told the sweet lady "So yes, I would love to buy her a rose." He turned to me with a playful glint in his eyes.

The old lady chuckled warmly. "Here you go, young man, a rose for your not-yet-girlfriend. May your love bloom as beautifully as this rose," she said, handing the vibrant flower to Spencer.

I thanked him as he handed me the rose, appreciating the beautiful gesture. We then continued our walk, the soft glow of the city lights guiding our way.

"So, a rose for the 'not-yet-girlfriend'," I teased, a playful smile on my lips.

"Well," he began, "I thought a rose might be a good start, but who's to say what the future holds?"

"Fair enough," I replied, a teasing glint in my eye. "A rose is a good start but what's your plan for the rest of our 'not-yet' journey?"

"Well, I've had a lot of time to think about this," he began, a sly grin playing on his lips. "I won't disappoint you, that's for sure."

I felt a subtle warmth spread—a mixture of curiosity and excitement. "Is that so?" I replied with a playful glint in my eye. "I guess I'll have to wait and see what surprises you have in store.”

As we continued our walk to my apartment and reached my doorstep, the night seemed to invite us to linger a little longer.

"I had a lot of fun, Y/N. I regretted every moment we weren't doing this sooner," Spencer confessed.

"I loved this night too, Spencer," I began, a genuine warmth in my voice. "This is not how I imagined my night ending at all; I definitely never expected you to be my blind date."

"I just can't believe this happened. Who would have thought you would go on a date with me?" His soft hand reached for mine; his touch was warm and inviting.

"Well, Jonathan apparently did," I laughed, the surreal nature of the evening sinking in.

"Of course, he thinks I want to date you. I talk about you all the time..." Spencer shyly admitted, his gaze avoiding mine.

"Wait! You talk about me?" My voice lifted with happiness.

"Well, I just tell him about my day... and how I love being by your side. You're so understanding, always listening to me. Your attentive gaze makes my heart skip a beat, and your eyes, Y/N, they sparkle so beautifully. And your smile—oh, it's the prettiest I've ever seen." His words were tender, and his brown eyes never left mine. "Jonathan never told me he knew you; I guess he sensed I was too scared to act upon my feelings and took matters in to his own hands." He chuckled. "And now you're here, and we went on this date—a wonderful date, may I add—and you look absolutely stunning."

As Spencer's words lingered in the quiet night, I felt a soft warmth enveloping us and an unspoken connection deepening.

"I would really to kiss you." He whisperd. His gaze held a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability, mirroring the sentiments that resonated within me.

"You know what, Spence?" I began, a gentle smile playing on my lips. "I'd really like that too."

His eyes brightened with joy, and as if a shared understanding passed between us, he leaned in slowly. His hands cradled my face, creating an intimate connection as he closed the remaining space between us. The world around us faded into a soft blur as our lips finally met.

The kiss was tender, his lips warm and inviting, and the sensation sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

As we pulled away, a shared smile painted across our faces, our foreheads pressed together in a moment of quiet closeness.

"Wow," Spencer whispered.

"Wow indeed," I replied, my heart echoing the sentiment.

"I've been waiting so long to do this," he said, kissing me again, this time with more force and desire.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing against mine with a newfound intensity, fueled by the longing we had both harbored for so long. It was a fusion of heat and tenderness, with each movement deliberate and purposeful.

His hands, which had cradled my face so gently before, now moved with a purpose, exploring the contours of my back and waist. The taste of him was intoxicating—a blend of warmth and desire that left me breathless.

"Spencer," I began, feeling our breaths mingle. "Would you like to come in?

Spencer's eyes darkened in response, his nod signaling his agreement.

As the door shut behind us, I carefully placed the rose he gave me on a small side table by the entrance, wanting to preserve the sweet gesture. Spencer, without saying a word, pulled me against him again.

I guided us through the familiar space of my home with an urgency that spoke of unspoken desires. As we reached the bedroom, our bodies entwined again.

I laid back on the bed, letting my body sink into the softness of the mattress. Spencer's body was right above mine, and our lips met in a hot, messy kiss. It was like everything else melted away, and all that was left was us in this moment. I could feel the heat of his body on top of mine, and the rush of intimacy was palpable. I wanted this moment to last forever, clinging tight to his every touch.

Spencer's hands glided along the curves of my body, caressing me with an intimacy that left me wanting more. His lips left mine to roam lower, descending slowly towards my breasts. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine, and my breath caught in my chest.

Spencer's voice broke through the intensity. "Are you sure?"

A smile played on my lips as I whispered, "Yes, please Spence."

The sudden touch of his finger on my skin sent a shiver down my spine as his hand slowly drifted down my shoulder and pulled the strap of my dress down. As my nipple became exposed, he kissed it gently, sending a wave of arousal through my body.

He looked so pretty like this; his smooth hand cradled my breast as his lips left soft kisses. His slow hums of satisfaction were accompanied by the thrusts of his hips against my clothed core.

Sensing the escalating desire between us, Spencer then took the initiative, smoothly pulling my dress off. I felt exposed as his hands traveled down my body, lowering himself and planting soft kisses on my stomach.

"You look so beautiful and you smell so good." His whispers of admiration filled the air. "I bet you taste even better." He placed a soft kiss where I wanted him the most. I moaned at his words, not expecting them.

He then proceeded to slide my panties to the side, slowly licking a long stripe. The warmth of his tongue against my skin sent shivers through my body, and the anticipation built with every teasing touch.

“Fuck, it's even better than I imagined." His words were muffled as he spoke from between my legs, looking into my eyes. My moans filled the room, joined by the sound of his mouth devouring my wetness. My hands met his hair as I pulled him closer by his curls.

"Spencer..." My voice caught in my throat.

"What, baby?" The enduring name leaving his lips made my heart flutter.

"I need you," I pleaded.

"Need me to what, baby?" His middle finger breached my entrance. "Use your words," he said, caressing my opening. The sensation of his finger chills of pleasure down my spine. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and I could feel a rush of arousal building inside me. "I need you inside, please," I begged, moving my body against his.

Sensing my urge, he stood, undressing me and then himself. "Since you asked so nicely," he lined up and slowly sank in, his head resting on my shoulder, and his soft moan muffled on my neck.

Our kisses were slow and passionate, our lips brushing against each other with every movement of our bodies. His hands caressed my body, sending a wave of pleasure through me that only increased with every thrust.

Each rhythmic movement brought us closer to the edge, the intensity growing with each caress and whispered word. "You feel so good, Y/N; it’s like you were made for me." Spencer's voice was laden with desire as I moaned into his lips.

The intensity grew with each passionate thrust, and we were both lost in a world of pleasure. Our bodies were tightly intertwined, pressed up against each other as we let our emotions take over. Our moans filled the room, and our breathing became shallow and fast. We both wanted this moment to last forever, clinging to each other with all the strength we could muster.

"Spencer, I can't,” I cried out.

"Can you hold it for me, just a little, pretty girl?" he said, looking into my eyes. My eyes fluttered, closing at the words.

"No, no, no, keep your eyes on me," he said. "Yes, just like that." He kept thrusting with force, and I couldn't take it anymore. “I want to see your pretty face as you cum, baby.”

"Spence... please inside." I begged him, and that was all it took. I didn't have to wait any longer. The tension in the room reached its peak, and I could feel him release, his climax echoing mine.

Our bodies trembled together in the aftermath, the shared intensity of the moment lingering in the air. The room was filled with the sounds of our rapid breaths and the soft rustle of sheets as we came down from the euphoric high.

As we lay there, a playful smile crossed Spencer's lips. "So, about that 'not-yet-girlfriend' situation..." he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled, tracing circles on his chest. "Well, it looks like we just fast-tracked that process."

Spencer grinned. "Guess we skipped a few steps."

I gave him a playful look. "Steps? Who needs steps when you have Jonathan playing cupid?”.

Spencer gave a playful shrug. "Well, I'll be sure to thank the man.”

[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?

[gremlingottoosilly]

Someone, take Lego away from Konig (yandere!loser!Konig x fem!Reader)

AO3

Konig is keeping you in his basement. Turns out, this is still not the worst part. His interest are. Tags ans Warnings: Dub-con, obsessive behaviour, possessive behavior, yandere loser Konig, size difference, kidnapping, weird fluff.

König can play women’s bodies like fine musical instruments.

After he spent 10 minutes vigorously rubbing your outer labia, you concluded that he was thrown out of musical school on day one.

He flicks your clit occasionally, clearly not considering it something worthy of attention and, obviously, not something that actually brings you pleasure – he fidgets with it mechanically, like it’s a part of his riffle, and you almost want to say that his dismissive approach is kind of hot. He edges you perfectly, always giving away just enough pleasure that it feels nice, but not nearly enough that it brings you to orgasm – and he does so with zero idea of what he is doing, which makes you…almost proud. Of him. Of your angry crazy incel loser kidnapper who thought that bringing you lego flowers would make you suck his cock.

Well, it kinda did. Not the flowers, the whole…kidnapping thing. He did use it to get into your pants – and you aren’t even allowed to wear those now. Only his shirts, maybe a hoodie on a cold day, and a pair of lacy panties that he slips on you every morning he is at home.

You have a system – and König does his best to maintain it. You are getting fed at the same time, to make sure that your pretty little self is not malnourished, you are getting roughly clean clothes — most of it belongs to him, of course, like it’s not embarrassing to wear, and sometimes he even asks how your day was. Sometimes you look him deep in the eyes and say that you didn’t move from your usual spot the whole day because, well, you are kidnapped. Sometimes you are trying to be funny and make some silly jokes — and then he either gets too comfortable laughing and then trying to get his hand all the way down the depths of your inner thighs, or he gets angry.

König knows that a petty flower like you doesn’t want to be in captivity for so long, but there really isn’t much both of you can do about it.

He brings you different lego sets from time to time, trying to find out what you like the most. He doesn’t quite understand that, working in a Lego shop, you were utterly sick of most of the boxes lying around. He tried to gauge the reaction out of you, but you’re either ignoring him, crying or begging him to let you go…and he can’t exactly have that. He, kinda, can, of course, but it would mean sliding off your brain so you would never tell anyone about your experiences, or getting into a showdown with the police – and knowing that he hopped you through the border illegally to be his captive wife, wouldn’t really give him any brownie points. He is fucked, utterly and completely, if you’re ever going to be free without falling madly in love with him…

Which is why König is trying to make you love him. Thoroughly, utterly, and spending copious amounts of time with his tongue buried between your folds in the meantime.

Like now.

— You like it, ja? When I move like this…

He was spending too much time caressing and fondling your thighs – but you must admit that having his lips travel across your skin and sending goosebumps right into your core wasn’t so bad…he touched you a bit awkwardly, just a tad bit shy – like he wasn’t so sure how to approach a soft, female body instead of a cold rifle he was probably used to…he knows that he can’t just treat you like another one of his guns but, by god, if he doesn’t adore the way you look at him. All scared and nervous as he pushes his lips upwards, as he covers your soft skin with bite marks – you were so sure that he will be too nervous to even touch you, but you know better now…this guy doesn’t care that he is your captor. He only wants you to accept him, and if giving you gifts didn’t work out…

You needed to be a bit more diligent about the whole accepting his kindness thing. Maybe he would have been satisfied with a handjob – but now he wants to put his hands on you and do his job.

— Too…too much, Ko…

— Call me “sir”.

There is steel in his voice, and you stiff slightly. This is new – he was never like this before, even though you kinda got that he was in some sort of military. He was way too bulky and had too much money to be a regular gun nerd, so you settled for some special forces or elite war crime unit…then again, you weren’t in Germany anymore. Guy would have to get another citizenship to get into a more serious “I fucking hate my fellow man” forces.

He flicks his tongue over your clit and you remember what you’re here for. To get fucked. Because you are fucked. Not right now in physical sense, but you will be in a few minutes, and you’ve been mentally fucked for a few another hours and-

— Sir, ple…too much, re…really…

König fuckijng adores you.

He loves your trembling voice, your trembling hands, your trembling everything. The way you squint your eyes as he finds all of your special spots – it took him some time but ladies are just like riffles – come undone if you press on a few parts. You look perfect under him, and he couldn’t have you any other way even if he wanted to…god, you’re too fucking perfect for your own good. So, so pretty, it’s insane how he didn’t fuck you the first night you’ve been in his basement. Perhaps, he was trying to be a gentleman – fuck this, now. If he knew how sweet you would sound, he’d abandon any rotten chivalry on day one.

König didn’t have a lot of experience – a few sex workers here and there, some in the more exotic destinations while the others were, embarrassingly enough, from his hometown. It was a sense of domesticity, that he isn’t a fucking loser who can’t get a lady in his bed without wavering either his gun or hit wallet – but he has you now, and you don’t really care about his money or his guns…unless he counts your obvious activity. Which he doesn’t. Good golly, you’re too fucking pretty to count that.

He flicks his tongue over your clit and dips lower, deeper, sucking the sweet nectar straight from the source. You’re embarrassingly wet even as you try to push his head away – he would handcuff you, but he likes your little resistance attempts too much. He moans every time you tug on his hair and, with time, you should finally understand that everything you do only makes him want you more. Maybe, you do – but you keep doing this because you’re such a good girl who wants nothing more but to please her dearest…not exactly husband, but he can work on this. He has friends in places. Same ones who used to get him out of detentions when his quiet kid violent tendencies weren’t quite quiet enough.

He is moaning as he eats you out – the sound reverberates from your walls and makes you clench around his tongue, your brain already getting fried from pleasure. You never wanted to get off from your captor’s tongue buried so deep between your legs, but you surely enjoy it now…

You try to pry his head from you when he gets a bit too eager, when it feels like his nose is smashing your clit and you can only moan some mindless bullshit.

— You want to talk about lego instead?

He presses his head on your thighs, his cheek angled against the soft skin. He has a bit of a stubble that burns the soft skin, but the look in his eyes is far too eager. He is not bullshitting – and this is the most terrifying he is ever been. You try to imagine another three-hour lecture Star Wars and the history of lego sets combined with his awkward attempts to fuck you in between turning his affection spam from one thing to the other. The picture is vivid in your mind. You can almost hear it.

You consider your options. It is a hard decision for you.

— You know, they weren’t able to sell the sets to girls up until…

You grab a fistful of his hair and push his face all the way down your dripping pussy.

It looks like the only sure way of making your captor shut up is literally forcing him to fuck you…there were many such cases – you embarrassingly easily fall to his charms, even though he has the aura and charisma of a serial killer who got a freshly baked orphan for his lunch and then tried to talk you into destroying a small country’s economy.

König eats you out with the vigor of a starving man, and there isn’t a place he would love to be more than here and now, listening to your heavenly moans. This is the best motivational song he heard so far – and as he pushes his big, flat tongue deeper into the gummy walls of your clenching pussy, he thinks about recording your sounds and then listening to them in the gym. Could probably break the poor lifting pole with the strength of his fists.

He brought you to an orgasm – not easily, he had to lick the reaction out of you, your heat coming down to both of you like a wave. You feel tired immediately, knowing just how much energy you just wasted listening to his blabber between your legs – but you honestly can’t be arsed to react right now.

König lifts his body up so he can kiss you – you taste yourself on him and, admittedly, it’s a lovely way to make him shut up. You still tremble as you get down from your high, your legs finally giving up, even though you were already laying on that shabby mattress. You shift slightly so he won’t crush you under the weight of his body. A Lego piece pocks at your side, making you wince.

You hate this fucking place.

— What’s wrong, Liebling?

He nuzzles your neck like a needy dog, pressing light kisses all over your skin. He is marking it, too – you can’t keep comparing him to a dog, but this is exactly what he is. Simply a war hound that you have to tame in order to get a somewhat normal life while still belonging in his basement. You thought you knew how to play this game – then he pushed you on your tummy and fucked you because, apparently, you were too good at playing him. Even now, he acts more like a lover – if only you could see past his homicidal tendencies…

But you can’t.

But he doesn’t care anyway.

— I…

You bite your lips, trying to come up with a lie that wouldn’t make him fuck you. König thought you looked beautiful like this, all holed up in your thoughts. So, so pretty, he couldn’t help himself – he needed you, as much as he kinda hated playing the psychological game and trying to understand what you’re thinking. Ladies are too mysterious for him, after all.

— I want to sleep in a normal bed.

Oh.

Well, he…didn’t expect this.

He was ready to combat your desire to run away or to be let go willingly. He was ready to put you on your knees and make you beg for him to not let you go - after all, you did belong to him in all of his right. He didn’t…didn’t expect you to want something so simple. Something that he can do. God, you’d look fucking divine on his bed instead of the tiny basement he put you in. He can already imagine you on your tummy, face buried in his pillows as he pounds into your soft ass and explains every superhero poster he has in his room. He will show you all of his figures and knives and guns, and you’ll finally see just how amazing he is and how interesting his hobbies are – and you’re bound to finally love him the way he deserves.

You stare at him, blankly. He kinda loves when you look like that – sometimes he imagines you being a mindless little bimbo who can’t think of anything besides his dick, and it helps him get off when you’re too sleepy to play along with him. He tried to bring you more sets, something childish, something meant for girls – but you tossed away the rose bouquet and you didn’t even spare a second glance at some fandom set that he thought you’d like. God, you’re difficult. Women are difficult. Why can’t you be as straight as a riffle?

— Normal bed, Katzen? You don’t like it here?

He puts a hand on your shoulder, his fingers too big to rest on your body carefully – he easily reaches for your neck and he knows that you’d go out like a light with the smallest squeeze. You’re adorable and soft like this, and he can’t wait to finally try choking with you.

König imagines your pretty, soft body all helpless under him – maybe you’d claw at his hands and beg him to stop, maybe you’d enjoy it, drenching the small mattress with your juices. Maybe you’d push your hips towards his, desperately searching for release. You can be a nasty, dirty girl, he knows this all too well – mostly because he did go through your phone and searched for your browser history. Who knew that a simple lego store cashier could have so many kidnapping and overpowering fantasies. Who knew that you could be so wet just because some military-obsessed loser wanted to shove his cock into you and wasn’t nice enough to ask first.

— I…I don’t like the basement.

Smart girl. You know how to be sot and obedient when you have to. Too bad, this behavior also made you all the more desirable for König – compared to the rowdy recruits and dumb enemies, your quiet voice is everything he needs to not go crazy. His hand plays with your neck, squeezing it slightly, playfully. He can feel your pulse quickening every time he does this and he is sure that if he’d drop his hand between your legs again, your pulsating pussy would be wet enough to indicate a second orgasm.

Shit.

He goes too far again.

— You don’t like the basement? Why?

You stare at him, blankly. He seriously thought there is nothing wrong with the basement – it’s small, yes, but probably just about the size of a studio apartment you were able to afford while working in Berlin, of all places. You have a mattress, a loving boyfriend, you have all the food and snacks you want, your pussy is filled with cum and your mind should be filled with endless love and adoration for the coolest guy in the world who just so happens to be in love with you, so…

He looks at your face again. Ja, you don’t like the basement. You’re a surface girl after all.

— You really want me to answer that? It’s the basement.

He snorts, still dragging the conversation.

— I spend most of my childhood in the basement. It was nice.

— I could tell.

— What?

— Nothing. Let me out, please.

He sighs with deeply settled tiredness. He thought you’d be nicer about it, too – but he knows what ladies want, he is a ladies' man at heart. He doesn’t have one, of course, not unless this charcoal-black shrapnel-filled thing deep in his chest could be considered one, but he tried his best to be good for you. You deserve something nice, something good. He wants to kiss you all over and he will do it on his own bed, while trying to talk you into watching some old nerdy TV show with him. Maybe you’d agree to play with some Lego after this and it could be considered a really nice and thorough foreplay.

— I can’t.

— Let me sleep on a normal bed, then.

Well, this, he can do.

Carefully unlocking your shackles and immediately catching your legs so you won’t kick him in an attempt to escape, König picks you up like a kitten. It’s scary, almost, how easy it is for him to just manhandle you into the position he wants. He is a big boy, admittingly, so it really doesn’t matter how big or how small you are. He can abuse you easily, and this is why you’re trying to keep him gentle. Using all of your womanly charms even if this guy would get off just from you calling his name.

He covers your eyes so you won’t see anything – not like you’re interested in the amount of weirdly specific movie posters on the walls or an alarming amount of firearms. He knows he is not the most charming person out there with the most interesting hobbies, but you will learn to appreciate all of his anime figures, or else you’re going to suffer the fate of a recruit who dares to ask his late thirties colonel of who the fuck Ayanami Rei is. Rumors are held that this guy was never seen in the army again.

He only puts the hand away from your face when you are sitting on the soft bed. You stare at the navy sheets – fucking obviously – and, surprisingly, a bed frame. Then your gaze travels a bit further, to the walls and…

God.

Oh fuck.

You almost want to cry from how much of a loser your kidnapper is. He is a threatening mercenary, a fucking colonel in military uniform who holds you at gunpoint occasionally. You stare at the anime posters. You contemplate your options.

— Can I go back to the basement?

If god is real, he is a fucking anime girl from the poster in your kidnapper’s bedroom.

[chuuyascumsock]

Where Gay Goes to Die || Minors DNI

Summary: I have no words, and no apology because this actually slapped so hard. Let’s go lesbians lmao. Happy pride month.

Tags: Female! Chuuya Nakahara/Reader/Fem! Osamu Dazai, Afab reader, Threesome, Brief Voyeurism, Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Belladonna, Love, Pretty Girl, etc.), Classic Dazai-Chuuya Bickering, Fingering, Nipple Play, Hair Pulling, Face Sitting, Squirting, Strap-on Use, Slight Bit of Aftercare, Hints of a Poly At The End, Idk Maybe I’ll Make a Part Two, Haven't Decided, Honestly Downright Filthy Smut, Literally Wanna Be Stuffed Between Them Like a Sub Sandwich.

How you ended up in bed between your co-worker and her ex-partner from the mafia was a mystery to you. 

One minute you were having drinks with the ADA earlier that night before slinking off to grab another drink from the bar. And the next you were being complimented by one of the five mafia executives herself who was sitting nearby, Nakahara Chuuya. You’ve never had anyone so boldly eye fuck you while smoothly commenting on the way you fought during one of your missions— and against their organization no less. Chuuya was ethereally beautiful, her russet tresses fell over her freckled shoulders, sleek dress hugging her physique tightly to reveal her curves. The most captivating characteristic of hers had to be her heterochromatic eyes, soft blue and brown that sealed your fate as she dragged you away from the bar shortly after your interaction.

Dazai had only noticed your disappearance after she was finished with her Sake. Whining and complaining to Kunikida about how much she missed you, Kunikida scoffed and fixed her glasses. “The last I saw her was talking to the bartender.”

Dazai was quick to jump to her feet and trail off to the bar, only to find no one but the bartender there. When asked, the bartender nodded his head off to the back door that led to an alleyway with a small warning that you had left with a woman described way too familiar with Dazai. Not only was it Dazai’s ex-partner back in the mafia, but you had fought against her just the other day. Dazai felt off when approaching the door, weary of what to expect.

Entering the alleyway, Dazai hadn’t been expecting to see Chuuya feeling your soft body up with her gloved hands while shoving her tongue down your throat and vice versa. 

It took minutes for either of you to notice Dazai’s presence, too caught up in one another to see her staring you down as Chuuya had her way with you. The woman had tugged at the neckline of your tight dress, freeing your breasts to the cold air for the brunette to see before cupping and squeezing them. Your soft and cute mewls had both women wanting more as Chuuya’s lips captured yours again in a sloppy kiss.

Something in Dazai snapped and she knew that there was no more hiding her want for you behind sweet, charismatic smiles and adoring looks from across the office. She cleared her throat, a small gasp of surprise leaving you and not much of a reaction from Chuuya. 

“The hell do you want, shitty Dazai?” Chuuya nearly rolled her eyes as she kept your plush tits groped and spilling between her gloved hands. 

“What are you doing here?” You timidly ask, embarrassed for getting caught, especially with someone who was supposed to be the agency’s enemy.

Dazai kept her composure. “You were gone for too long so I came looking for you— but I see that you’re busy.” She completely ignores Chuuya for the time being.

“Sorry…” You whisper bashfully, head tilting down in shame.

“Well she’s perfectly fine, so you can leave now,” Chuuya grumbles, leaning forward to litter your throat with more hickies.

“I don’t think so— it’d be a shame for the president and Mori to find out what’s happening right now. Why don’t we talk about this at your place, hm, Chibi?” Dazai was clearly planning something.

And that something ended up with you sandwiched between both women in Chuuya’s king sized bed— Dazai’s long, manicured fingers stuffed in your cunt to the knuckles while Chuuya’s tongue entangled with yours, her calloused hand pinching one of your nipples between her fingers.

The loud squelching of your pussy around Dazai’s fingers makes your ears burn as you moan into Chuuya’s mouth, kisses growing messy and mostly tongue filled. Dazai grins in satisfaction as she presses a thumb to rub at your throbbing clit, enjoying every second of your soft walls clenching around her fingers. “Look at how cute her pussy is, Chuuya. Such a needy little slut— wanting both of us at once.”

Chuuya’s lips disconnect from yours, leaving a small string of saliva to break apart from your panting mouths. “Can’t you keep your big mouth shut for three seconds? You’re ruining the mood with your annoying voice,” She mutters in irritation at Dazai’s voice while looking anyway, her gaze glued to your slick pussy as Dazai’s fingers thrust back inside. Chuuya bites into her bottom lip at the scene momentarily before moving back to marking your neck up with love bites.

Dazai blissfully ignores Chuuya’s snippy comment, curling her long fingers to rub into a certain spot that makes your thighs quiver. “She’s so soft, I bet she tastes good too.” The brunette hums thoughtfully, her eyes trailing from your soaked pussy up to your eyes. “Do you?” She smiles mockingly, watching you stumble incoherently over your words into a muddle of whimpers. Her bottom lip juts out into a small pout as she continues to taunt you. “Oh, poor baby… can’t even talk— do my fingers feel that good?”

There’s a small wince as you feel Chuuya sink her teeth into your shoulder just slightly harder than the other bites when Dazai talks, most likely annoyed by how much more she was doing. Wanting more attention, Chuuya growls out, “Oh please, she’ll be crying over my strap compared to your lousy fingers.” 

“Toys? A bit of a cheater, aren’t you, Chuuya? Can’t satisfy her on your own?” Dazai finally responds, mockery evident in her tone.

“Keep talking and I’ll throw your ass out to walk home in the cold.” Chuuya glares at Dazai before she moves away from you momentarily to crawl over to her nightstand to grab out a bottle of lube, harness, and a relatively long dildo. 

Your face must’ve shown just how intimidating the size of the toy was as Dazai gives a light laugh. “Too big for you, darling? Bet you wanna keep my fingers,” She says in a sing-song voice, curling her digits once more. It’s enough to distract you momentarily from their bickering as you feel a familiar feeling building in your lower tummy.

“Relax, doll. It’s only eight inches,” Chuuya sighs nonchalantly, already strapping the harness around her hips and prepping the silicon toy with a thick glob of lube. The sight of Chuuya slicking the toy up with her hand only makes you clench tighter around Dazai’s digits.

“Well some of us aren’t as loose as you are, Chuuya-dear.” Dazai gives a faux innocent smile, malice clear in her eyes and tone. Her fingers falter a bit at Chuuya’s next words.

“You’ve got to be out of your damn mind to talk— you should be considered a fucking graveyard at this point with how many bones you’ve had in you.” Chuuya scoffs, slapping Dazai’s hand away from you as she grabs one of your ankles with her other hand to drag you to her.

You give a small whine, eyes hazy as your orgasm was ripped away from you. 

Chuuya’s gaze falls back to a softer expression as she looks down at you, “I got you, doll.” Her hands move over to grab your hips and lift them until your lower back and ass are resting on the tops of her thighs, bright purple dildo resting between your ass cheeks.

“Well now you’re just being unfair,” Dazai complains, voice pitchy as she gives Chuuya a nasty look.

Before Chuuya could make a snippy remark about her leaving, you reach to lightly tap the brunette’s knee, signaling her to straddle your head. “Just so no one is left out…” You murmur, flustered.

“Well aren’t you just a sweetheart?” Dazai’s mopey expression washes away quickly as she shifts to make her way across the bed to straddle her knees on either side of your head. Her head tilts down to look at you, lips pulled back into a grin and lithe fingers threading into your hair. “You look cute between my legs, ‘donna…” 

Your eyes lull as your gaze drops from her face to her  cleanly shaven pussy, folds practically drooling with arousal which makes your mouth water. You nearly forget about the strap-on nudging against your entrance until it’s pushing in with no warning, the bulbous tip stretching you back open, though not as much as Dazai’s fingers had been. As your lips part to gasp at the sensation, Dazai is lowering herself down until your mouth is enveloping her, your tongue pushing through her folds and labia to lap along her tight hole.

You think you could drown in these women and let them fuck you until you’re nothing but a mindless, pussy-drunk slut for them, your hands coming up to grip into Dazai’s bandaged thighs and your hips jerking to take Chuuya’s strap deeper. And they don’t even keep it from you, letting you have your way as Dazai settles her weight fully onto you and Chuuya shifts to slip deeper into your aching core, walls greedily clutching around the dildo. Your moans are muffled by Dazai, your tongue laving through her succulent pink cunt, clit throbbing wildly against your muscle. She isn’t sweet like how it’s always described, a musky arousal evading your senses— but it isn’t unpleasant and it has you slurping noisily at her sloppy pussy loudly, making her moan and buck gently against your mouth.

It’s overwhelming how they both selfishly take as much as they give, Dazai’s free hand reaching behind her to rub your clit as she rides your face and Chuuya is sinking into you to the hilt and pulling away to create a tortuous pace, her hands gripping into the flesh of your hips. Your ears are muffled and you can’t tell if it’s from the pleasure or Dazai’s thighs pressing to your ears, hips rolling down to hump against your wriggling tongue.

“O-Oh, fuck, look at you… made for eating this pussy, huh, ‘donna?” Dazai groans, her fingers tightening in your hair painfully which causes you to gently scrape your teeth along her clit. She gasps and releases your hair slightly, fixing it almost apologetically and pets it down, her other hand now resting to cup your mound, middle and ring fingers gently rubbing circles into your clit.

You don’t let the stinging sensation in your scalp bother you when Chuuya’s pace picks up and her hips are slapping against yours, thighs jiggling each time she fucks the dildo deeper into your sopping pussy. That and Dazai’s insistent rubbing against your clit has that coil tightening in your lower abdomen once more. You wish you could see the way Chuuya thrusts into your eager pussy, the loud squelching of the dlido fucking into you being all you had to know how good she was treating it. 

“Shit… look at you taking it all, dollface— your pretty pussy is sucking me in so. damn. tight,” Chuuya growls, hips slapping harsher with punctuated words, your body jolting with choked breaths. 

“Don’t be so rough with her,” Dazai chides, not really caring about her being rough, but wanting to piss Chuuya off.

It works as Chuuya glares at Dazai and only picks up the pace, thighs stinging with each thrust as you feel her skin slap against yours and her grip grow tighter on your hips. “Don’t tell me how to fuck my girl, shitty Dazai.”

“Your girl?” Dazai humorlessly laughs out before letting out a small moan from your mouth sucking at her clit again. “Please— after this, she’s with me. I’m just nice enough to share this once.”

“Like hell, I made a move first, go find someone else to whore around with,” A huff leaves Chuuya, but her pace doesn’t change and neither does Dazai’s fingers against your clit. It has your mind reeling and body twitching, nearly teetering the edge of a climax— not that either woman noticed as they continued to bicker. 

“Well I SAW her first, I called dibs. Besides, she works at the agency with me so that means that she’ll be coming back with me anyways. You lose, face it, Chibi.”

“Doesn’t matter if you saw her first, you’re just mad that I acted before you did. You’re such a petulant child, can’t even handle losing to me for once.”

“That’s because I didn’t lose, she’s mine.”

“Oh, you fuckin’ bitch—“

Their arguing is cut off by a loud muffled whine from you and an orgasm that has your body shuddering deeply, your pussy creaming all over the purple dildo. A small, frothy ring of your cum forms around the base with each thrust, leaving the two women to finally quiet down as they watch, movements faltering to a slow pace momentarily.

“Fuck… I wanna make her squirt now,” Chuuya exhales quietly.

Dazai nods slowly before murmuring, “Finally, something we can agree on.”

You pick up on their muttering and let out a muffled groan into Dazai’s pussy in attempts to disagree, not sure if you were able to take another orgasm, but it falls upon deaf ears and their movements pick back up to a frenzied mess now.

You squirm beneath them, eyes squeezing shut and limbs spasming as they overstimulate your flushed pussy, folds puffy and clit thrumming as Dazai adds even more pressure to your sensitive nub. You try so hard to focus on Dazai’s rutting against your mouth, but it’s difficult when they’re double teaming you like this and Dazai takes over, allowing her hips to grind down on your face. Her clit bumps against your nose and your tongue occasionally slips into her clenching hole, serving her just enough as she tries to desperately reach her own climax.

“C’mon, hun, let go for us, yeah? We know you can come again— wanna see you squirt, baby,” Dazai pants out, her bangs sticking to her forehead from the sheen of sweat she was working up. You can’t see Chuuya, but you know she must look similar to Dazai’s state.

Your head feels like it’s underwater and you can’t help but give into what the two women want, thighs clamping around Chuuya’s waist as your eyes flutter closed and your second orgasm crashes over you more intensely to the point your ears start to ring. A stream of arousal squirts out, splashing against Dazai’s fingers and Chuuya’s lower abdomen. A soft gasp slips from their lips and Dazai can’t help but come at the sight, her viscous cum coating your tongue and slipping down your throat like honey. It’s a pleasant feeling and tastes almost like nothing with a hint of her scent, making you moan weakly against her as her hips falter to slow down but refuse to let up from your mouth, insides pulsing against your tired tongue.

It’s a couple minutes until you gather your bearings and Dazai finally lifts her hips, breath hitching at the string of your saliva and her cum connecting your mouth to her pussy that breaks when she pulls away. It nearly gets her worked up enough for another round, but she presses the feeling down and moves to lay beside you, clinging to your side and burying her face into your neck. 

Chuuya pulls out of you shortly after, slipping the harness off her hips and begins to clean up. She disappears off into the bathroom momentarily and returns with a small rag to clean your face off first of Dazai’s cum and then between your legs. The mafioso pecks your lips gently in comparison to her rough treatment earlier and glances at Dazai, throwing the rag at her lazily without a care. “Clean yourself up, would you?”

“What?” Dazai whines out, “How come she gets the princess treatment and I’m treated like a peasant?”

“Because you are one, you’re lucky I haven’t kicked you out at this point,” Chuuya clicks her tongue and turns her attention back to you and scoops you up into her arms. “I’m starting a bath, I don’t give a damn if you join or not,” She says to Dazai over her shoulder, leaving the brunette to complain about the unfair treatment she’s getting as she stumbles up to follow after the both of you. 

With your arms looping around Chuuya’s neck lazily, a small smile curls in your lips, knowing that this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

[pedrospatch]

conflicted

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your captor gives you a bath. You have some conflicting feelings when he touches you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. also tagging elements of NONCON just to be on the safe side. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, Joel killed her father, mention of blood, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own. pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, pretty girl, little girl), daddy kink, very minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: <1k

a/n: this is a bit less than a blurb. a blurb of a blurb. a blurbette, if you will. i shelled it out in like less than an hour. to me it is part of the captive universe, but can be read as a standalone! please be advised that this is not fleshed out at all, i just felt like writing something that didn’t require too much brain power.

He pours one last pail of hot water into the tub.

“How’s the water?” he asks you.

His voice is so deep. Rich, like molasses. 

It’s also laced with a southern accent, you’d noticed.

Aware he’s still waiting for an answer, you shrug.

He tries again. “S’not too hot, is it?”

He had ordered one of the women in the group to start a fire and boil water collected from the stream they had stumbled upon just a mile south of the small cottage.

“Seriously, Joel?” Angela had glared at him. “I am not a fucking maid.” Hands planted on her hips, she foolishly added, “If I’m gonna haul and boil water for a bath, it’s gonna be for me, alright? Not for that little fucking brat of yours.”

His switchblade had gone straight to her throat.

“Fuckin’ say that again,” Joel hissed, the sharp edge of the blade lightly slicing into her flesh. “Call her that one more time and see what fuckin’ happens.”

She apologized and then got to work, completing the task within a couple of hours.

Finally, you answer his question.

“Water’s fine,” you mumble. It’s hot, but not scalding.

“Good.”

Joel kneels beside the tub.

Flinching, you hunch over and pull your legs up against your chest.

It doesn’t matter. He’s already seen you naked.

He’s the one who had undressed you, after all.

Dipping a washcloth into the water, Joel instructs, “Sit up straight, honey.”

Honey.

The pet name makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You’re not his honey. You’re his prisoner.

He frowns, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty girl.”

Obediently, you nod and the water sloshes around you as do what he says.

You saw what he was capable of. You’re terrified of him.

With a satisfied hum, he begins washing you.

It had been three days since the massacre. Joel gently scrubs away the crimson caked onto your skin and the color of the water turns to rust. You don’t know whose blood you’ve been wearing—could it be your father’s?

He had been standing in front of you when his life was taken by the very same man that knelt beside you. Had his blood splattered on you? Was it being cleaned off by the same man who had so violently spilled it?

Your stomach lurches at the thought.

He had been trying to protect you during the ambush.

Your father had been trying to fucking protect you.

And Joel Miller had killed him.

He had killed him just to get to you.

Joel runs the washcloth down your arm, his dark gaze dragging over every inch of your body. “Such a pretty, pretty little girl,” he murmurs. Dropping the washcloth into the water, he gently cups one of your breasts in his large hand. He sweeps his thumb over your nipple and lightly teases the pebbled flesh, his digit circling it until it becomes a stiff peak.

Your eyes flutter closed and you inhale sharply.

There’s a strange feeling in your lower belly.

Strange because it’s not entirely unpleasant.

He trails his hand lower, raking over your tummy.

Lower.

Lower.

Lower.

He rests his palm over the mound of your pussy.

Gasping, your thighs clench together.

You’d like to think it’s to keep him out, to keep him from violating you further, but the burning pressure building in between your hips seems to be saying otherwise.

Horrified, you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

No. Don’t let him in.

But what if your resistance led him to force his way in?

You shudder, unable to decide which would be worse.

Joel leans forward over the bathtub, pressing his lips to your temple. “Don’t fight it, honey. S’okay that it feels good,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s s’pposed to feel good when I touch you, baby.”

No, it’s fucking not!

Bowing your head, quietly begin to sob.

He wraps his arms around you. “Don’t cry, babygirl,” he soothes. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you. I promise I’ll always take good care of you.”

His vow makes you cry even harder.

divider credit @saradika 🤍

[heerated]

GIFT TO YOU ⸺ lee heeseung. ★

synopsis. heeseung found himself being dragged by his friends to a strip club for his birthday. you found yourself working a late-night shift on a typical day off. he usually didn’t go to strip clubs. you usually don’t offer special services. that was all about to change in one single night.

pairing. heeseung x stripper fem!reader

word count. 2.5k

content warnings. soft dom heeseung, oral sex (male receiving), slight nipple play, good girl is used, unprotected sex (wrap it up), breeding, slight mentions of christ.

heeseung mindlessly scrolled through his phone as his friends cracked jokes and burst into laughter around him. he felt a quick pat on his back before jay said to him, “come on, bro. we’re here.” heeseung rolled his eyes without the rest of his group noticing, turning his phone off and shoving it in his pocket before exiting the vehicle. he stepped foot on the pavement in front of the club, looking up and squinting his eyes as the bright neon lights shone down on him.

“do we really have to go here? it’s my birthday, you know,” heeseung complains as he turns to his friends, an annoyed look displayed on his face. jake sighs before walking over to heeseung, wrapping his arm around his shoulders before saying, “you’ve been so uptight ever since you and hana broke up. i think it’s about time you live a little.” “i’m not uptight. i just-“ “i don’t want to hear it. we’re having fun tonight, and we’ll make sure you have fun too,” jake interrupts him, pushing him forward to lead him to the entrance of the strip club.

the scent of alcohol attacked heeseung’s nose immediately as he walked into the club. he gazed at his surroundings, seeing all different types of men shouting and cheering for the women on the poles. heeseung wasn’t the type to go to strip clubs. he was a guy who preferred to stay home, order some takeout, and maybe play video games all night long. his friends, on the other hand, loved to party. they would drink until they were wasted and would call him when they were shit-faced drunk and needed a ride.

the last thing heeseung wanted was to be in this strip club, yet he somehow found himself being dragged into it anyway. he sighed as he followed his friends to the booth they rented out. a woman in tight red lingerie with the name tag reading “yuna” happily led them to their booth, seating them and asking what drinks they would like to order. before heeseung could even speak up, sunghoon was already placing the order for him. “the birthday guy right here would like a sex on the beach, please,” sunghoon finished ordering, shooting a wink flirtatiously at the stripper waitress. the waitress’ face turned a bright red as she covered her face, politely bowing to sunghoon and striding off to go retrieve the drinks ordered.

heeseung rolled his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that night before looking around the club once again. he found his attention landing on a certain dancer in the club. you wore a petite maid lingerie outfit that effortlessly hugged your curves. you twirled around the pole with a bright smile on your face, occasionally winking at the men seated on the couches throwing their hard-earned cash at you. there was something so captivating about the way you danced that had heeseung hooked, and he couldn’t take his eyes off you even if he tried. you bent over as your hand grasped the pole to support your body, presenting a clear view of your ass to the men watching you. heeseung bit his lip at the feeling of his pants getting tighter and tighter the longer he watched you.

you flipped your hair before body-rolling as the men cheered you on. you smirked at them before your eyes traveled to the far back of the club, meeting eye contact with heeseung. his eyes widened slightly before quickly turning back around to his friends, and his heart started to beat faster after you just noticed him staring at you. you giggled at the sight of him getting flustered before bowing down to the men in front of you, thanking them for all their support, and quickly making your way off the pole. you jumped down from your spot, pushing your hair behind your ears as you walked over to the booth heeseung was sitting at.

heeseung could hear the clicks of high heels tapping on the tile floor approaching from behind him. a soft voice cleared their throat, causing heeseung to look up from his lap only to be met with your eyes for the second time of the night. he felt his cheeks getting hot before greeting you with a smile, so he wouldn’t seem any more suspicious. jake shot you a whistle to indicate that he liked what he saw, which caused you to let out a cute giggle. “are you guys all taken care of?” you spoke to the group, placing your hand on your hip. heeseung was going insane, to say the least, eyeing you up and down. his eyes traveled from your breasts being lifted by the bra underneath your little shirt down to your legs, which were covered in tight fishnets.

you made sure to maintain eye contact with him as you watched him become more and more flushed. you debated working your shift tonight since you were covering for a good stripper friend of yours. from the looks of it, the night was only getting started, and you wouldn’t regret it. “yes. the other dancer, yuna, helped us out not too long ago” sunghoon replied to you. you nodded at the group and said, “i’m glad! let me know if you need anything else. i’ll be more than happy to help."

you shot heeseung a wink as a smirk creeped onto your face. heeseung’s face was hot to the touch at this point, and his hands covered his lap to hide the embarrassment in his jeans. as you started to walk away from their booth, jake called out to you and asked you to come back. you raised your eyebrows and stared down at him with innocent eyes. “yes?” jake turned his head to look back at heeseung then back at you. “it’s this guy's birthday today, and we thought maybe he could get a little something special?” you bent over laughing, covering your mouth with your hand as you stifled your laughs. you shook your head at the boys before declining, “i’m sorry, but i don’t offer those types of services. i can get him another dancer, if you’d like.

“no.” heeseung spoke up, causing your eyes to widen out of shock. “i want you, if that’s okay?” the group of boys returns the puppy-eye look you had given jake earlier, convincing you to agree to gift the birthday boy. you looked back at heeseung whose face was still so cherry red and whose hands covered the obvious bulge in his pants. you admired his facial features and noticed what you couldn’t before when you were on the pole. his shiny purple hair glistened in the light of the club, falling down on top of his eyes. his skin was perfect, and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t one of the most attractive men you’d seen enter the club. “sure then. why not. just for the birthday boy,” you finally agreed. the guys lifted from their seats as they clapped and shouted other miscellaneous cheers, causing a giggle from both you and heeseung.

you motioned heeseung to get up from his seat and follow you with your finger, which he immediately obeyed. you led him to one of the back rooms as he hurriedly followed behind you, the tent in his pants growing bigger by the second. heeseung had no idea what you had in store for him, but he could tell you wouldn’t disappoint. you grabbed the gold doorknob and twisted it to open the door, revealing the red LED lights that lit up the room and now your bodies. a black leather couch was placed in the middle of the room next to a black chest with a gold lock on it. towards the back of the room was a neatly made bed covered in red satin sheets.

he stared at the room in awe, naughty thoughts racing through his head of fucking you relentlessly in every position and on every surface in the room possible. “i usually don’t offer services like this, you know." you broke the silence, sliding off your top with your shoulders to reveal your black lace bra underneath. heeseung tugged the skin on his lip with teeth as he watched you. you could feel his eyes on you the entire time before turning around and falling onto the bed. your arms were sprawled over the satin sheets, and you slowly opened your legs to give him a perfect view of your panties. “matching set, i see”, heeseung says to you with a smirk creeping onto his lips. you smiled as you stared up at the ceiling. “you like it?” heeseung hummed a “yes” in response. you picked your upper body off the bed yet remained lying down, leaning on your elbows to support your body weight to look at heeseung.

your eyes were low and filled with lust as heeseung made sure to reciprocate the same look you were giving. “you should come show me how much you like it then.” those words were all it took to finally bring heeseung over the edge. he walked over to you and crashed his lips onto your own, making sure to leave no room for christ in between you two. both of your hands traveled through each other's bodies in attempts to remove your clothing. you both practically ripped each other's clothes off in desperate need of feeling one another. heeseung reached his hands behind you, using his fingers to unclasp your bra. he watched as your bra fell off your arms and revealed your perfect breasts.

“god, you’re so beautiful,” heeseung says to you before attaching his lips to one of your nipples. you immediately leaned your head back and moaned in response, reaching your hand into his purple hair and grabbing a fist full of it. a small groan left heeseung’s mouth as you tugged on his hair. you made it very obvious that he was making you feel good as he swirled his tongue in circles around your nipple. “please, let me touch you-” “heeseung. my name is heeseung.” “heeseung, please,” you pleaded out to him. you were so desperate to just touch him and please him, especially because it was his birthday.

he releases his lips from your breast to look up at your flushed face. he smirked at how out of breath you were already, even though he'd barely touched you. “i’m all yours, babe.” he removed himself from your body and sat on the bed next to you, manspreading as if he were almost waiting for you to take place in between his legs. you did just as he expected you to do and got on your knees, placing yourself in between his legs and propping your elbows on his knees. since you removed each other's clothes earlier, heeseung was just left in his underwear. you eagerly pulled his boxers off, revealing his large cock that sprung out, hitting his abdomen with a slap.

you were intimidated by how big he was and were unsure if you’d be able to fit it all. “i don’t know if i'll be able to fit it all, hee” you said to him with a worried look painted on your face. heeseung took his hand to run his fingers through your hair, then caressed your cheek. “that’s okay, baby. just be a good girl and fit what you can.” you quickly nodded as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, slowly jerking him off as you licked his tip in circles. he hissed at the feeling of your tongue on his dick, gripping a handful of your hair, causing you to let out a little whimper. you opened your mouth, taking most of him in, but you continued to jerk off whatever you couldn’t fit. “fuck, baby,” heeseung moaned as you watched him lean his head back with his eyes closed shut.

you began to bob your head faster as you held his knees for support. you could feel yourself gagging each time you fully went down on him, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat every time. heeseung’s dick started to twitch in your mouth, telling you that he was close to reaching his orgasm. he let out one last groan before interrupting you: “i don’t want to cum just yet. i want to feel you.” you bit your lip as he guided you off your knees. he quickly wrapped his hands around your hips and placed you on his lap. you could feel his hard cock resting up against the wetness in your underwear.

just the feeling alone made you want to moan. you were so eager to have heeseung inside of you already, and he could sense that. he grabbed his cock and pumped it a few times before asking, “are you sure about this?” you nodded.“yes, heeseung. just fuck me already.” he chuckled at how desperate and demanding you sounded, so he quickly obliged. he placed the tip at your entrance with one of his hands still gripping your hips. you slowly sank down on him, both of you releasing a moan as pleasure overcame your bodies. you began to bounce and move up and down on his cock, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep your balance and a good pace.

“fuck,” he groaned as he felt your walls tighten around him. you quickened up your pace as heeseung’s lips attached to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly to leave small marks. you were practically a mess as you rode him, your hair going in all different directions and a series of moans and whimpers leaving your mouth. heeseung could feel your legs start to shake against his own, and he knew you were getting closer to your high.

the room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping together, with beads of sweat forming on your skin. heeseung leans up to your ear before saying, “are you almost there, babe?” you bit your lips and nodded quickly, “yes, fuck. heeseung, i’m so close.” “cum for me, baby. be a good girl and cum for me as my birthday present.”

“fuck, heeseung. i’m cumming," you responded to him as you tilted your head back, your legs starting to shake even more than they were before. you swore you could almost see stars for a second as you reached your orgasm. heeseung laughed before placing both of his hands on your hips to guide you as he made you ride him through your hair. “i’m so fucking close, babe. i’m going to cum,” heeseung announces before shooting his warm load inside of you, coating your walls with his cum.

your heavy breaths eventually came to a calm as you both came down from your highs. heeseung fell back on the bed, pulling you down with him and lying on his chest. you twirled your finger around into various shapes and numbers on his chest before saying, “happy birthday, heeseung.” heeseung let out a small chuckle before responding, “thank you for that birthday present. i hope it won’t be the last.” “hmm, i’ll think about it,” was the last thing you said before the two of you shared another laugh and made arrangements to meet again in a different setting.