#like to the point where im sitting there like how the fuck did this all work out so well. and then there's the similarities like THIS

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 7893

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: a/b/o, Omega Bucky, Alpha Steve, Hydra wins, dark AU, forced mating, breeding program, coerced sex, restraints, heats/ruts, forced to fuck, past Bucky x Brock, HTP adjacent, mind control, anal sex, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

A.N.: this was written all the way back in 2017!

Breeding the Winter Soldier

“Looks like they gave Cap his assignment,” Rollins chuckles from where he’s sitting, boots propped up on the observation room’s control panel. “Doesn’t seem too happy about being told he’s gotta breed ‘im.”

Brock scoffs lightly, unable to help himself from lighting up out of frustration as he stares through the one-way glass window at their prisoner. Smoking isn’t allowed inside the facility, but that’s never stopped Brock. “This is bullshit,” he complains around the cigarette between his lips, tossing the spent match to the floor as he gets a good first lungful of nicotine. Beyond the window, Captain fucking America—or what used to be Captain America— is pacing, pacing, pacing, distressed at the news. Brock seethes quietly. “Project Genesis is mine. He was supposed to be mine.”

And now Steven Grant Rogers is the one they want instead. The superior choice, apparently, for siring little super-soldiers. Brock had broken whatever he’d been holding when he’d first heard the order come down—a coffee mug, he thinks it was. The order strictly reassigned him as handler only to the asset, the one to supervise the project. Supervise. Brock cringes at the restriction of the word. He’s been the asset’s commanding officer for going on five years now. Unofficially, he’s been his alpha for two. He’s the one who knows the asset, understands him. He’s the only one who knows how to make him work right, how to get through to him. He’s the one who cares about him, who satisfies him through his heats. And now Hydra is forcing him to give that all away?

His mate is going to be so confused.

Rollins tells him to chill. “I’m sure they’ll still let you fuck around with him once he’s pupped a few litters.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Brock roars, angry but not at Rollins. Jack seems to know this, as he doesn’t move at all from his lazy posture in the chair. “He’s my omega. I’m perfectly capable of breeding him, if that’s what they want.”

Rollins shrugs. “You ain’t got that super soldier sperm.”

“Captain. Hail Hydra.”

Steve looks up from where he’s been eating his breakfast and frowns at the sight of Rumlow. It’s strange and upsetting to see people that he knew from before. People who he’d thought were the good guys. Brock looks the same as he did a year ago. Same haircut, same face, same tactical gear that he used to wear when he was on Shield’s Strike team, when he was Steve’s friend. Only now there is no Shield, and there are no friends. Now they all belong to Hydra whether they want to or not.

“Hail Hydra,” Steve mumbles into the cold milk of his cereal.

“Gotta come with me, Cap,” Rumlow tells him. “Today’s the day.”

Steve looks up at him, eyes angry and tired. “I’m not doing it,” he says. He’s fucking not doing it. They can’t make him.

“I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rumlow calls in the four guards that he’s brought with him and has them stand there with their stun batons as a warning for Steve. Before, they never would’ve been enough to keep him subdued. But that was before. Steve knows it’ll be no use trying to fight them off. He lets his spoon drop into the cereal bowl.

They take him down to the wing where they keep Bucky, to a room with a bed, a minifridge and an exam chair. It’s a heat suite, where they intend to force him to do this, Steve supposes. Bucky’s not there. There’s a tech waiting for them and when Steve lays eyes on the prepped syringes he tenses, tries to turn around. He winds up with a stun baton jammed to his neck and the next thing he knows he’s restrained in the chair. The tech is bringing a needle over and Steve pulls with all his might against the mag restraints. They don’t budge. “Relax,” Rumlow says. He’s standing beside Steve. “It’s just something to help you.”

“Help me how?” Steve asks, afraid. He’s already drugged up six ways to Sunday. Drugs to keep him weak, drugs to keep him dazed, drugs to keep him calm. If he didn’t heal so rapidly his inner arms would look like pincushions by now. The injections erase who he is, erase any possibility of a fight, let alone an escape. He doesn’t want any more injections.

“Something to kickstart your rut,” Brock says. He points to the other needles, one by one. “An aphrodisiac. A benzo to lower your inhibitions. Hormones to increase the chances of conceiving.”

Steve sneers. “I’m not doing it. I’m not hurting him.”

“You sure as hell better not,” Brock tells him, and there’s something about the way that he says it that has Steve paying closer attention. Steve takes notice of how tense Rumlow seems, upset almost. He smells the sour tint of possessiveness rolling off of him. “He’s mine,” Brock says. It’s obvious he’s not talking about his role as Bucky’s handler.

Steve squints for a moment. “…No,” he says, eyes widening. Rumlow smirks when he sees that Steve is finally figuring it out. “You’ve had him.”

“Wow. Took you long enough Cap. Thought you would’ve at least smelled him on me, all the times I fucked him before passing you in the hall.”

Steve grits his teeth, fury building in him in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not with all of the mood stabilizers Hydra’s got him on. “You fucking raped him?!” The tech comes over and jabs Steve while he’s distracted, not that he can move much in the restraints anyway. The needle stings going in, but the anger coursing through him is worse than the cold flush of medicine through his veins.

Brock looks at Steve with contempt. “I’m his handler. He hasn’t been raped since I started caring for him.”

Steve pants in his seat, feeling his temperature start to climb as the drugs work into his system. “Is that what you call it?” he sneers. “You think you’re taking care of him?”

“I know you’re not happy about this,” Brock tells him. “But let me tell you something: neither am I.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brock tells the tech to get out of the room. He orders the AI system that they stole from Stark Industries to stop monitoring them. Once they’re all alone he tells Steve, “He’s mine, Rogers.” Steve growls at him and that makes Rumlow roll his eyes. He drags a stool over to sit right in front of where Steve is restrained. “What you’re participating in? It’s called Project Genesis.”

“Yeah, trying to make baby supersoldiers, I get it,” Steve snaps. “I’m not doing it.”

“It’s the only fucking reason you’re alive right now,” Brock tells him. “And it’s the only reason he’s not gathering dust in some cryo vault.”

Steve can’t suppress his frown. “What?”

Brock sighs. “You’ve both been decommissioned. Hydra is a major world power now. One or two enhanced assets aren’t worth our time anymore. An army of supersoldiers, however, is. That’s what he’s still useful for.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Brock snaps. “I was the one who was supposed to breed him. Was working on it just fine till they brought you in. I’m sure you think he’ll be happy to see you but let me tell you, he won’t.” Brock can smell the change coming over the other alpha, can smell his body ramping up for a rut. Beneath the scent of sex hormones is the sour tinge of chemicals. It makes Brock want to curl his nose and bare his teeth in a challenge, or maybe turn away to escape the smell altogether. “He doesn’t know you Cap, and you’re just going to scare him if you come at him acting like he should be glad to see you.”

Steve glares at him. “He does remember me. He knew me on the helicarrier.” Bucky had known him. He had.

But Brock shakes his head. “No. He only has bits and pieces Rogers. He’s my omega. I bonded to him years ago.”

Steve growls and pulls at his restraints again. “No!”

“Calm the fuck down!” Brock leans in closer. He looks mad. Smells mad too. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s not up to us. Do you think I’d let you touch him if it was?”

“He’s not yours,” Steve grits out. “And I’m not going to touch him.”

Brock huffs. “You wait till those drugs kick in, you’ll be singing a different tune.” He looks at Steve seriously. “And just so you know, he’s already in heat.”

Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”

“Yeah. He’s hot and aching and he knows what his mission is. He’s not going to fight it,” Brock says. “But he’s expecting me. He’s expecting someone that he knows to help him feel better. And he’s going to be confused when I bring him in here and tell him that he has to let another alpha fuck him. A stranger. So I need for you to calm down. I don’t want him scared. You and I are going to talk to him together and you’re going to be gentle with him.”

Steve can feel arousal building in himself, and it’s strange to feel that while he’s sitting there next to Rumlow, being told all of this. The chemically-induced rut is coming on fast. “Shit,” he curses, head falling back to the chair behind him. He can feel himself firming up beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants and he hates that he can’t hide it from Rumlow. “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

“Get it together Cap,” Rumlow snaps, unhappy.

“Fuck you!” Steve spits.

Brock sighs. “I was hoping you’d shut up but I can see that’s not going to happen. He crosses the room only to return with a gag in his hands. He forces Steve’s jaw open and presses the ball gag in, saying nothing about the fight Steve puts up. Once it’s secured and Steve is heaving angry breaths at him, Brock says, “I’m going to get him now. If you care about him at all you won’t make this worse for him than it has to be.” He gets up and leaves through the room’s only door and Steve is forced to wait long minutes, panting and sweating at the oncoming rush of a forced rut.

The asset is relieved when its handler comes to retrieve it. It entered its heat hours ago and has had to wait, alone and aching, in the little room. “Come on James,” the handler says when the asset stands from its little cot, and the asset remembers that this is supposed to be its name. He’s never heard it before—not from anyone besides his handler. It's probably invented, but he likes that he uses it. Even if it’s made up, it’s something special between just the two of them.

Now they’ll go to the other room, the one where they always go when he is to be bred. James looks forward to it because he knows it’ll make him feel better. Brock (that’s his handler’s name. He’s allowed to use it when they’re alone) will give him everything he needs, will knot him and hopefully fill him with pups. That’s their mission. So far they’ve been unsuccessful but the asset thinks it’s because his heats used to be so unpredictable. Now he’s been out of cryo long enough that he’s cycling regularly again, his body ready for a pregnancy.

The asset has never thought about reproducing. An assassin doesn’t think of such things, a weapon certainly doesn’t. But James does. James doesn’t mind his new mission. He hasn’t told his handler, but he secretly prefers serving Hydra this way over what he used to do. This way he doesn’t have to go into the cold. And they don’t wipe him. And there’s someone who cares for him—his alpha. Deep down, he secretly likes the idea of having a baby, something that’s his that isn’t garbage or government-issued. Something that’s all his. He doesn’t tell his handler about this either.

They enter the other room and there is someone else there. It’s a man, an alpha. He’s restrained and in rut, that much is clear right away. The asset is nearly knocked back by the abrupt smell of him. Brock notices and laughs, reaching to grab him by the arm and pull him closer. “Easy babe.”

The asset scans his eyes over the man on the chair. He’s big. Tall and muscled, with blond hair and handsome features. He’s clearly upset. He struggles against his bonds as they approach, making useless sounds through the gag in his mouth. The asset looks questioningly at Brock. “Who is he?” He’s not really supposed to ask questions unprompted, but over time he’s learned that it’s okay with his handler, with Brock.

“His name is Captain Rogers,” Brock says. “Former SHIELD operative. He’s an enhanced like you are.”

The asset nods. He was unaware that there were others like himself. There used to be a program, but it had failed. He can remember helping, being tasked with training a group of men and women to make them stronger, better. But they’d gone wild and had been eliminated. The mission had failed.

“We have new orders,” Brock tells him, and this is when he takes his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. James purrs at the contact, moves to begin removing his clothes as is expected of him. But Brock stops him. “Wait, babe.”

The man in the chair growls at the pet name and James whines. He doesn’t want the other alpha to be there. He wants to be naked, in a bed, under his mate. “I’m hot,” he points out. “I need to get undressed.”

“You can,” Brock tells him. He pets the side of James’ face. “But I’m not going to be here with you.”

The asset frowns in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t understand. This is the breeding room. James is in heat. It’s their mission—they’ll be punished if they don’t complete it. The asset tilts his head, baring his neck, trying to show his alpha how ready he is. “Alpha please,” he whines. He’d hit the floor and present if not for the other alpha in the room. “I’m in heat. I need it.”

Brock shushes him, gentles a hand down his side. It feels good but it’s not nearly enough. “I know baby, I know. You’ll get a knot, just not mine.” The asset is confused again, but only for a second. His eyes dart over to where the other alpha is bound. Brock sees this and he nods, “Yeah baby, you’re going to mate with him.”

“What?” A low noise of distress leaves James’ throat, unbidden. He’s not supposed to make noises like that. But Brock never punishes him for such mistakes, not when it’s just the two of them. “No. You’re supposed to do it. You’re my mate,” he says, feeling scared. He’s not supposed to argue with directions. “Alpha?” he says, trying to press his nose into Brock’s neck, trying to ignore the other man in the room. “The mission,” he urges. “Breed me. Put pups in me.”

But Brock just kisses his temple and sets him back firmly. “Sorry babe,” he says. “It’s orders.”

Steve tries to speak through the gag but of course it’s no use.

He is forced to sit there and watch as Rumlow comes into the room with Bucky, holding his hand, for Christ’s sake. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. He makes a pleased sound whenever Brock touches him, and when he calls him pet names. Steve feels his guts lurch at the obvious show of affection between them. He feels jealously flare up in his core like a rabid animal, wanting to kill the other alpha for touching Bucky, for trying to claim the omega that should be his.

That, he knows, is his rut talking. It’s gotten worse in the past ten minutes since Brock left him here, tied to the exam chair and gagged. Steve’s skin itches and his pulse throbs. Between his legs, he’s hard. And now that Bucky has come into the room, now that Steve can smell him, it’s so much worse. Bucky smells like damp, cloying earth. He smells like dark, cramped spaces and tangled up bodies. He smells like something Steve wants to bury his face in and not come up for air from. Steve takes one look at him and feels the urge to chase him, catch him, pin him down come unbidden. All he can do is wiggle ineffectively in his bonds.

In front of him, Brock is telling Bucky that he has to mate with Steve. Steve’s heart clenches when Bucky looks over to him, tense and afraid. His eyes do not hold recognition. Steve listens as Bucky pleads and whines to Brock, calling him his alpha, begging him to breed him instead. And Brock fucking comforts him, pets him and gives him a kiss and tells him it’s okay. Bucky looks like he never wants to leave Brock’s side. Steve clenches his eyes shut at the sight.

“Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes open. Brock is standing right in front of him. Bucky is still hanging back, looking unsure. “You see?” Brock says, and he’s not bragging or gloating or anything. He’s just trying to get Steve to listen. “He’s used to being with me, Cap. He doesn’t know you. Now are you gonna behave if I take that gag out? Not going to upset him?”

Steve glares at Rumlow, but after a moment manages a terse nod. The gag gets removed, and Steve takes a moment to swallow the spit in his mouth, lick his lips and crack his jaw. “Thanks,” he grunts, not feeling at all thankful.

Rumlow nods, chucks the gag away. “I’m not going to let you up from that chair yet,” he tells Steve. “That I’ll do remotely, once I’m out of the room.”

Steve sneers. “What? You afraid to be alone with me?”

Brock raises his eyebrows. “First of all, I’m not alone.” He nods back to Bucky. “I’ve got him. Don’t let his role in our breeding program fool you; he’s still perfectly capable of ending a man with his bare hands. If I give him the order to, that is. Secondly, I’m not going to let you out of that chair while I’m in the room because you’re in rut. A rut that we chemically engineered to match his heat. You’re geared up to attack any alpha that comes near him.”

Steve scoffs. “I’ve got better control than you, animal.”

Brock looks back at Bucky and calls him over, but he calls him James, and that rankles Steve more than anything else yet. “Come here James,” Rumlow says. He holds out his arm and Bucky comes over obediently. “This is Steve. He’s not a big fan of mine, I’m sure you can tell.”

“Bucky,” Steve says urgently. “Bucky I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky murmurs to Brock.

Brock glares at Steve. “I told you Cap. He doesn’t know any of that.” Brock pulls Bucky closer, encourages him to go up and touch Steve where he’s restrained to the chair. “Go ahead babe. You heard him: he won’t hurt you. Have a look at him.”

Bucky does. He inches closer until his leg hits the side of the chair. He reaches forward with careful fingers, as if Steve is a wild animal that might bite. Bucky’s eyes are cold and calculating as they pass over Steve, no recognition to them. Not like Steve wants. “He’s healthy,” Bucky murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to say it. “Strong.” Behind, Brock chuckles a little.

“Yeah he is. Don’t worry though. He won’t be rough on you.” Brock meets Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s head. “I have it on good authority. He’s going to be real gentle.”

Bucky doesn’t react to this, and Steve feels as if he can hardly breathe as Bucky continues to examine him. He touches Steve’s arms, his legs, his chest. Steve is still clothed, but the touches ramp up the desire that the drugs have kickstarted. In his pants, he’s hard as a rock. Bucky leans down and sticks his nose into Steve’s neck, scenting at the glands there. It’s all Steve can do not to moan where he’s sitting, all he can do not to try and thrust his hips up the way his body wants to. After a long inspection, Bucky seems to make up his mind about Steve. He stands back and away, looks to Brock. “He’ll sire good pups. I understand why he’s been chosen.” He nods once to show his obedience in the matter. “I’ll complete the mission.”

Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”

“Buck you don’t have to do anything these sacks of shit tell you to—”

“Cap,” Rumlow warns, “That ain’t the way. He WILL do what we tell him to. And if you’re resisting, he’ll take you by force. That how you want this to go?”

Steve grimaces at the threat, imagining the absurdity of Bucky raping him. “He should have a choice,” Steve tells Rumlow darkly, hating the man with every fiber of his being. “Does this make you proud?” he asks. “Treating him like a thing? Violating him?” Steve forces himself to meet Rumlow’s eyes in an imploring manner. “You said that you mated him. If that’s true, is this really what you want for him?”

Rumlow shakes his head, looks at Steve as if he’s incredibly thickheaded. “You just don’t get it, do ya Cap?” He walks over, takes a hold of Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. Steve watches the display with horror, especially once Bucky brings both of his hands up to cradle Rumlow’s jaw. Brock pulls away from Bucky, their lips separating with a pop, and he glares at Steve. “This isn’t about ‘want’. It’s about following orders.” With that he pushes Bucky up to stand close to Steve, turning away before either man can stop him. “Now just shut up, lay back, and get him pregnant,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

James tries not to feel anything when his mate leaves the room. He tries to slip back into the mindset of the Asset, a place where feelings are irrelevant. Brock has explained the parameters of the mission, has given the soldier his orders. Now James will execute. He tips his ear towards the door, his enhanced hearing helping him to pick up on the sounds of many intricate locking mechanisms being set. He flicks his gaze back up to the body of the other man—the man they’ve chosen to sire his pups.

James wants to sneer, feels like maybe he does. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, wetness already growing sticky and cool where it’s seeped into the back of his pants. He wonders if Captain Rogers can smell it. Stepping close to the chair where he’s restrained, James examines the mag cuffs that hold him in place. They’re similar to the ones that his handlers use on him. It makes James wonder just how strong this man is. Brock had said he was enhanced. He tilts his head in curiosity.

“… Bucky—”

“Directive clarification,” James calls out to the room, ignoring whatever the Captain had been about to say to him. James doesn’t wait for a response; he knows they’re being watched. “Am I to mount him like this?” he asks, not particularly caring either way. He shouldn’t care about this stranger’s comfort during the act—he’s not Brock. The soldier has his orders and James has no choice. He has to do it. A quick glance shows him what he can already smell: Captain Rogers is fully erect beneath his clothing. On the chair or in a bed, he’ll be easy enough for James to take inside of his body. But a crackle comes through the speakers in the ceiling, echoing Brock’s voice into the room:

“Use the bed if you want. He’s been chemically subdued so he shouldn’t be able to put up much a fight. Releasing mag cuffs in three, two...”

In the next second the restraints on the chair click open, and James turns back in time to see Captain Rogers pulling his arms away from the chair. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side. His bare feet touch the floor but he remains perched on the chair’s edge. For the first time, James realizes that the Captain is dressed in sleeping clothes. A standard issue tee shirt and cotton pants are all he wears. “Bucky,” he says again, holding out an arm in James’ direction. It is unclear if the gesture is meant to beckon James closer or to keep him at bay. James is not unaware that, omega or not, he presents a threatening image to most men. With this in mind he narrows his stance, draws his shoulders down to seem as small and nonthreatening as possible. Hopefully this will keep the Captain from trying to do something as counterproductive as running, or fighting.

“I realize you don’t recognize me, but don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Steve.

James blinks at him. He takes stock of the situation. Captain Rogers—Steve—has been made aware of his role in the breeding program. He’s been given his orders just like James has, but he’s resisting. James can smell it on him, the warring scents of desire and disgust. James steps closer, tilting his head to the side once he’s just in front of him. “Smell that?” he asks, being sure to keep his eyes cast down. The Captain’s hands are clenched tightly by his sides as James bares his neck in a submissive gesture. “Come on,” he says as gently as he can. “Alpha?”

“Don’t,” Steve bites out. He sounds pained. “Don’t call me that Buck.”

James bites his cheek, thinking he may just have to use physical force if this man won’t listen. “You’re in forced rut,” he says, trying again. “That can’t feel good.”

Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’re flushed,” James tells him. There is perspiration all along the collar of Steve’s tee. “And you’re hot. Burning-up-inside hot. Believe me I know how it feels. When you’re so desperate that you’re miserable?” He reaches for the hem of his own shirt, pulls it quickly over his head. He knows that the movement makes his scent burst into the air. Now his top half is exposed and James has to hold in the sigh that wants to come at the relief of having that much less clothing on his body. He tosses his shirt aside. In front of him, Steve’s nostrils are flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he tells him, “You can have me. It’ll help.”

Steve’s fingers sink into the chair’s cushion, little bits of foam padding ripping out and falling to the floor. His scent is soaring—a deep, rich scent like copper and burnt wood. James grits his teeth at the sudden urge to drop and present. He slowly reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Steve’s thigh. “Why are you afraid?” he asks. It’d be nice to know. Everyone always seems to know more than he does…

“I can’t hurt you like this Buck. I just can’t.”

James shushes him, ignores the continued use of that nonsensical name, Bucky. “You won’t,” he soothes, pulling lightly at the fabric of Steve’s pants in an effort to get him to slide off the chair. “I’m in heat. I’m ready. It won’t hurt.”

Steve scoffs, but he does allow himself to be moved. Standing barefoot, they come eye to eye. “That’s not the kind of hurt I meant.”

James ignores the clench his heart gives as he thinks of Brock. He wonders if his alpha is watching from another room, observing them through a little camera. He hopes not. “Come here,” James says, pulling Steve forward. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, and James feels more slick rush out of his body at the contact. He whimpers without meaning to. “Scent me,” he says, tilting his head again. He’s pressing up against Steve, their bodies connected from thigh to chest. He can feel the alpha’s erection and he’s certain that Steve can feel his. But that hardly matters as Steve releases an answering growl somewhere in his throat. His head dips down and he buries his nose in the crook of James’ neck. James’ breath leaves him in a satisfied puff. He’s been in heat for nearly twenty-four hours with no relief until now. He’d been expecting Brock, his mate, but the mission has changed.

His body has already decided for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t Brock. Doesn’t matter that it’s a stranger who’s been selected to put pups in him. James’ body recognizes this Steve for what he is; a strong, virile alpha.

The Asset grabs Steve with his metal hand, pushing him towards the bed before the other man can protest.

Steve stumbles over his own feet, not having been prepared for the rough grab and push of Bucky’s metal arm. He falls gracelessly back onto the room’s bed with a grunt. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover. He’s there in a flash, one hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest and the other yanking down his pants. Bucky tosses them to the floor and reaches for Steve’s shirt. But Steve isn’t having it. He grabs Bucky’s arms and attempts to fight him. They grapple for all of three seconds before Bucky has him pinned, and Steve is panting furiously. The drugs make him so much weaker than before. With Bucky’s metal arm in play he doesn’t stand a chance. Begging is all he’s got left, it seems. “Please,” he says, staring imploringly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Bucky ignores him completely. He rips Steve’s tee shirt down the front like it’s paper, pulls it off of him and throws it somewhere in the general vicinity of where the pants had gone. Leaning forward over Steve’s now-naked body, he gives a very un-omega like growl. “Stay down.” He stands up and divests himself of the boots he’s wearing, then his pants.

Of course Steve doesn’t listen. He manages to prop himself up by the time Bucky’s taking his underwear off, and the scent that hits Steve then is so strong it makes him clench his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He can’t look at Bucky, he can’t or he’ll lose his shit. The bed dips and Steve jerks as Bucky pulls him to lie down again, too much naked skin pressed up along his own. “Bucky, don’t—” He’s cut off by lips crashing down on his own. Bucky wastes no time in forcing his way, mouthing and biting at Steve to make him open up. His hands pull at Steve’s hair and he fucks his tongue lewdly into his mouth. A garbled noise that probably would have been a moan had it been allowed to form leaves Steve, his hands grabbing the first part of Bucky they can find—his hips. Steve pulls on Bucky, whether to bring him closer or push him away he’s not sure, but he winds up tugging the other man fully atop him, and the second Steve feels him start rolling his hips downwards, he’s lost.

Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling away. Steve opens his eyes to see the omega staring at him, eyes a hard grey. He’s still fucking downwards, rubbing himself off against the crest of Steve’s groin, and his breath has become harsh. “This is our mission,” he breathes, sounding rough and desperate. “We have to. You have to.”

Steve feels sickness rise up and mingle with the desperation of his rut again. “No.”

“Yes.”

Steve repeats the ‘no’ several times more as Bucky continues to writhe against him, but his hands don’t loosen their hold on Bucky’s hips, and he doesn’t try to push Bucky off of him. “I can’t.”

Bucky makes an angry sound in his throat and yanks Steve’s head back with the grip he has on his hair. It’s his metal hand and it hurts. “You don’t have a choice,” he says. Steve growls at the dominant gesture, his hindbrain urging him to put the omega in his place. But Bucky leans closer again. For a second Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He puts his lips to Steve’s ear, the dark length of his hair falling around them. “Don’t make me take it,” he whispers, sounding desperate. His hips have not stopped moving. “Please. Alpha. You’re supposed to give it to me. Take me. Don’t make me do it.”

Steve groans. There’s nothing worse that Bucky could have said. He’s in heat, and Steve’s in rut, and now he’s calling Steve Alpha and begging Steve to mate with him the way that he wants it; to take him the way an alpha should take their omega. Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky staring at him once again, only this time his eyes are soft and his brow is pinched—pleading. He looks more like the Bucky that Steve remembers, and Steve can’t ignore the urge within himself to make that pleading look go away, to satisfy.

He flips them over. The only reason he’s able to do it is because he takes Bucky completely by surprise. Bucky’s eyes go wide for a moment, assessing a threat, before he realizes the move for what it is and he relaxes and purrs. Steve doubts himself immediately. He brings his hands to Bucky’s face, pleased when he’s not pushed away and Bucky fucking bends his neck to expose himself. “Alpha,” Bucky whines, but Steve’s not having it.

“You listen to me,” he says angrily, using the last goddamn piece of himself that he has left to convey seriousness in his tone. Bucky stares at him obediently and Steve swallows. “They don’t wipe my memory, got it? You may not remember me, but I remember you. And I won’t hurt you. I hurt you, you have to tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Got it?”

James frowns, even in his lust-ridden brain he knows he does. This stranger—no, some distant and unreachable part of his mind corrects, not a stranger—Steve—is referencing the wipes, is telling him that they’ve met before. James can’t disprove such a claim. He wonders if this Captain Rogers was once his handler, or possibly a target. He wonders if “Bucky” was his call sign then. Steve is still staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and James shakes his head to get the thoughts to go away. They’re not important, not relevant to the mission. If his promise is all the Captain needs, then it means nothing to James to give it. “You won’t hurt me,” he says again, thinking that the alpha above him is stupid to imagine that he could, but adds, “I’ll tell you if you do.”

That seems to settle it for Steve. He comes down and kisses James’ forehead, leaves his lips to linger there in a manner that makes James distinctly uncomfortable—as if they are old friends, or family even. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Turn over.”

James flips, never having obeyed an order so quickly. He tries to push himself up to present but with Steve’s heavy weight at his back he can’t do it. Behind, he can feel the alpha’s hardness pressing between his cheeks and it makes him whine needily. This may be a mission, but he’s still been left wanting and unfulfilled for close to going on twenty four hours now. There are no feelings of doubt or discontent with the situation that James needs to force down to be a good soldier. He’s allowed to want this, and he does. “Alpha,” he urges when Steve doesn’t move to penetrate him. “Please. Now, please.”

He can feel the exact moment when Steve gives in. His hands are clamped tightly on James’ wrists to keep him still, but when James nearly begs to be fucked it seems to push the alpha off whatever edge of hesitance he’s still managing to hang onto. James can feel Steve’s cock on his ass as he allows himself to thrust at last. The teasing slide is made easier by the slick that’s gathered there. James groans in frustration, rubbing his face into the bed and fairly suffocating himself as he waits for the other man to get on with it and get inside of him. He’s aching for it, for the stretch and pressure of an alpha’s cock, for a knot. He knows he’ll start yelling in a moment if Steve doesn’t DO SOMETHING.

But he does, and James doesn’t have to yell at him after all. Steve presses up onto his arms, the sweaty warmth of his chest leaving James’ back. He positions himself, bumping against James’ hole, and it’s a relief that he forgoes the unnecessary gesture of using fingers first—James is sure he would snap at him if he tried. Steve presses inside, entering him slowly but never stopping until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with James’ ass. It’s not hard to take him in. James’ body is slick and ready for it and he groans lowly into the bed at the sheer relief of it. “Yesss,” he hisses, and turns his head as much as he can to look back at Steve. The man looks about as gone for it as James feels, and a dark thrill shoots through him at the thought that he’s about to be taken just the way he wants to be. Fucked and bred just the way his body is crying out for. It may not be Brock, but James has decided not to think about that. All he can think about in his current state is Steve; the smell of him, the feel of him, even the sounds he makes, it all feels too perfectly satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the barrage of drugs the techs had shot him up with yesterday. Maybe. He’s not supposed to care though, and he doesn’t. He tries to thrust his hips backwards, wanting movement and having no idea how the other man can bear to hold so still now that they’re connected. There’s nowhere to go with Steve pinning him down at the hips, but he knows the Alpha feels him squirming, recognizes it for the request that it is. “Move,” James says, sounding more demanding than a good omega should. “God just…”

Steve has a hand in his hair and his nose in his neck before James can finish the sentence. A very low growl, almost a feeling more than a sound, is coming out steadily from his chest. It makes goosebumps break out on James’ arms. “Are you telling me what to do?” Steve asks.

Against the bed, Bucky’s mouth splits in a smug grin. This is what he wanted, what Brock would’ve done. At the height of his heats, all the asset wants, all James wants, is to be taken. To be held down and owned. James strains to look back over his shoulder. The angle is awkward but he ignores it, fixing Steve with what he hopes is a challenging stare. If he has to goad the alpha into a more feral headspace to get things done, then by god that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I came here to get fucked, so yeah, I am. Move,” he bites out, hoping that it will spur Steve into action. It does. He pulls out, ignoring James’ cry of protest. His big hands slide down to his hips and he gets onto his knees behind him. James follows, pressing back and presenting. He can feel Steve’s hands pulling him apart, baring his hole. There is silence and James knows without having to look that Steve is just staring at him. The thought of it makes him shudder. He presses his face into the bedding and whines.

“God,” Steve exclaims softly, dragging a thumb across his leaking hole. “You’re soaked.”

James cannot stop whining low, needy omega sounds. Then he feels the blunt head of Steve’s cock at his entrance and he moans. “Yes,” he hisses, though it’s muffled against the sheets. He presses his ass back harder, and that causes Steve to pop inside of him. The alpha grunts in surprise, but then he’s right back to thrusting, this time faster. Just as deep though, and god, if that isn’t exactly what James wants. “Oh, hugn—oh!” The noises he’s making are obscene but James hardly notices. They seem to drive Steve on, his hips slapping harder each time he moans particularly loud.

It goes on like this until James reaches for his own cock. He only gets a couple of strokes in before Steve is knocking his hand away. James cries out indignantly but then Steve pulls out, flips him over and pushes right back in. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, hips working at the same pace as his hand. He’s staring down at James with a burning intensity, breath heavy with his efforts. “Mine,” he growls, giving a calculated twist on the upstroke.

James’ eyes roll back in his head. “Ugh, fuuck.” It’s incredible and nothing he’s used to. No alpha has ever done this for him before, always leaving it to him to take care of. He can hardly thrust into the grip very well when he’s being fucked as hard as he is, but damn if he doesn’t try. “Please,” he groans, grappling at Steve’s shoulders for something to hold onto. He hardly knows what he’s asking for. The alpha is sweaty above him and James’ hands glide over the muscles in his back. “Please, Steve,”

Steve’s eyes shoot to his at the use of his name. Something raw and more intense than what they’re doing now passes through them, and before James knows what’s happening he’s being kissed. It’s not gentle. It’s plying, and insistent, and needy. God, is it needy. Steve is kissing him like it’s the answer to something and all James can do is go along for the ride.

“Bucky,” Steve is grunting at him when he finally parts enough to speak. James knows he’s speaking to him, so he opens his eyes to the nonsensical name. He doesn’t really care what this man calls him, so long as he never stops. “Buck I’m gonna,” Steve tells him, brow sweaty and pinched. “I have to.”

James groans, feeling how true the alpha’s words are. His knot is growing, tugging more insistently with every thrust. When it feels like Steve might pull away at the last second, James wraps his arms and legs around him in a fierce hold. “No,” he begs. “Inside me. I need it.” He’s not thinking even a little bit about the mission now, only the ache inside him. It’s an ache only a knot will fix, and he whimpers this to Steve as he holds him. “Knot me. Alpha, please. Want to feel it. Fill me up. Breed me.”

Steve makes a filthy sound and shoves forward, groaning long and low into James’ ear. His knot catches, fully blown as he climaxes. His hand has stopped moving over James’ cock but it hardly matters now. He’s rocking his hips shallowly, pulling his knot taut against James’ rim, pulsating it over his prostate again and again and again. James doesn’t need anything else to make him come spectacularly.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

Brock doesn’t turn around from the observation window. He figures Rollins is just here to taunt him anyway. “Nobody asked you to come in here,” he says quietly, attention still fixed on the pair in the next room.

“Yeah well…” Rollins comes up and stands right next to Brock, eyes taking in the same sight. “I was curious.” When Brock says nothing, he adds, “Looks like they’re finished.”

Brock scoffs and turns abruptly from the window, putting his back to it. “They’re not fucking finished.” Idiot, he wants to add. He scrubs his hands over his face and it occurs to him that he needs to shave. “That was just round one.” Brock doesn’t know about Rogers, but he is intimately familiar with his own omega’s stamina during a heat. “They’ll be in there for a good two days at least.”

“And you’re just going to stand here and watch?” Rollins rolls his eyes. “Stupid.”

“I can’t do anything else,” Brock snaps, irritated at his friend. “You’ve never been bonded. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No?”

“No.” He sighs. “You think what? It’s just jealousy?” He shakes his head. “I could handle that. But this… It’s like a physical ache.” He turns slightly to glance through the window again, thinks better of it, and turns back around. “Can’t stand it.”

“Can’t do anything to change it.” Rollins points out. “You never should’ve gotten so close. He’s just a thing, and at the end of the day he’s Hydra’s thing, not yours.”

“Yeah.” Brock really doesn’t have it in him to argue that point. He wants to, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he doesn’t wish he could set the poor SOB free. But that’s never going to happen, and playing house with his bonded for the last six months has just been wishful thinking. “They still going at it?” he asks, unwilling to turn around and look again. He wasn’t exactly getting off on the sight before.

Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”

Brock grits his teeth, can’t keep the image of that goddamn super soldier, tied to his mate, out of his head.

“You think it’ll take?”

“Christ Rollins, you just don’t quit. Of course it will.” Pretty soon he’ll have to see the soldier, heavy with a litter of his pups. He hates it. Hates it more than anything.

Rollins shrugs and claps a hand onto Brock’s shoulder. “Don’t stay in here.” Another glance back. “He’s obviously not going to hurt ‘im. Leave them to it. Come and have a drink with me.”

Brock looks at Rollins then and really considers him. He calls him his friend, but the truth is the two of them are just the same as the Winter Soldier—property of Hydra. It’s taken years for him to realize it, but it’s true. Still, Rollins is offering him a drink now, and even more than that, a temporary escape. It’s the closest thing to friendly Brock’s ever gotten from the other man, and he figures it’s the best he’s going to get for a while. He might as well go. Because Rollins is right; he never should have gotten so close.

Brock sighs and nods at Rollins. Tells him, “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”

Masterlist

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#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #fanfiction #steve rogers x bucky barnes #fanfic #fuck or die #breeding program #winter soldier #hydra #captain hydra #dark fanfic #brock rumlow #captured whumpee #angst #bucky x steve #hurt/comfort #forced drugging #a/b/o #alpha steve rogers #omega bucky barnes #alpha/beta/omega au #omegaverse

[pinkandlilacroses]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Angel - Paige bueckers

part 3

• summary {when an unsuspecting girl falls for the basketball star}

• warnings {drug use, angst}

• comment if you would like to be added to the taglist

bella’s pov

“ok you can go now” she says, emotionless

“oh”

“i mean, no offence but i have a girl coming soon, so you cant be here” she says laying on her back, breaking our eye contact

i don’t respond and put my clothes back on. this is fucked

“have a nice night”

i haven’t cried this much in months, walking through the halls, ugly crying.

‘paige’ has been blocked by ‘bella’

“bella whats wrong” avery says, empathetically

“i hate her, i hate her so much” i cry, barley being able to choke the words out

i look at avery after my response and i have never seen her that angry, there could fully be steam coming from her ears.

“please dont talk to her, please dont hurt her, please avery, please” i cry out, begging the infuriated girl

“why not bella, she deserves it” she yells

my tears dont stop and i feel like they will never stop pouring.

“tell me what she did”

i begin the tell her the events of tonight and her anger only grows.

“that fucking bitch” is all she can say in response

“but i blocked her, and im literally never gonna speak to her again” i say, trying to make a positive point, to counteract this negative situation

“you are never gonna speak to her again”

“im gonna go off to bed”

i feel broken, i got used. i wanted my first time with a girl to be meaningful, i know i like girls and i wanted to prove to myself that having sex with girls wasn’t wrong, but i feel wrong, i feel gross. i cant believe i would let myself be that vulnerable with someone i barley know. ive never been the one to have one night stands and ive only ever had sex with someone ive been in a relationship with.

i take my valium, something i swore to never use again after getting addicted, but its the only thing that works.

“hey, how are you feeling” avery ask’s, genuinely. i’ve never seen her be this gentle before

“wheres my weed”

“bella no”

“shut up avery”

i walk to the kitchen and unlock one of the drawers, and i see the stash. thank god

i know i shouldn’t smoke as a coping mechanism, but its the only thing that works, every time something bad happens to me, i turn to smoking

after going through 3 joints, im barley able to talk or stand up. perfect

knock

ugh

knock

fuck off

knock

“who is it” i say, it barley even sounded like words

“its azzi, is avery here”

who the fuck is azzi

“avery theres a bitch here for you” i say taking another drag

“oh my god! hey azzi” avery says, excitedly, why the fuck is she acting like that

“why are you so fucking happy” i ask, knowing full well how rude i sound

“this is azzi, shes in my psychology class and we have gotten pretty close” avery says, grabbing azzi and sitting next to me on the couch

“yo dont sit on my shit” i say, mad

“your bella right?” azzi says, happily. i hate happy people

“yeah”

“yeah avery’s told me alot about you” she says

“cool” i reply, dryly

“azzis on the basketball team” avery says, my eyes widen

“of course she is” i say, sarcastically. i hate basketball

“yeah, have you been to any games” she questioned, attempting to continue this boring conversation

“nah, i dont watch basketball”

“oh well you should sometime, avery keeps saying how she wants to go to a game” azzi says, looking at avery who begins giggling. sus

“bella your probably friends with some people on the team” avery says

“you wanna hit” i offer to azzi

“nah, i dont smoke”

“boring” i say, bluntly

“do you guys mind if some of my friends come over” azzi says

“no, no, thats perfectly fine” avery says, looking at azzi. basically eye fucking her

“who” i ask

“ice, kk, aubrey, nika and ashlee” she lists

fuck my life. im to high to care

“yeah whatever” i say, lazily

“ok perfect, ill tell them to come” azzi says, excitedly

“are you sure” avery whispers to me, being nice. for once

“i dont give a fuck, its fine” i say taking a drag

im so high. god damn

10 minutes later all of azzis friends turn up, why are they all so tall. what the fuck

avery introduces herself to them and points them to our couch

“hey im kk, your bella right” kk asks

“yeah im bella”

“hey im ice”

“hey im nika”

“hey im ashlee”

“hey im aubrey”

to many people to remember

until

“oh paige came to, i hope you dont mind” azzi says to us, mostly avery

avery says nothing, myself included

“hi paige” avery says, extremely cold

“come sit guys” azzi says, breaking the silence. i wish i wasn’t so high cause i wanna go to my room

everyone sits on the couch, paige sitting the furthest away from me. funny. not funny. not laughing

conversation begins and everyone is involved. everyone but me, ugh i’m so uncomfortable

paige keeps looking at me, and yes i’m noticing because i’m looking at her to.

paige’s pov

fuck. why do i keep looking at her.

she blocked me last night so obviously shes mad about my actions last night, its just a hookup, nothing more.

its not that deep

“i’m going to bed” bella says, slurring and barely able to stand up. i didn’t know she smoked that much, i guess i don’t know anything about her. but i don’t care.

“paige are you ready to go” kk and ice say to me

“yeah, aubrey, nika, azzi, u ready to go”

“yeah lets go”

“actually im gonna stay” azzi says. sus

“buy guys” is said in unison

azzis pov

“ugh finally” avery says, while smashing her lips onto mine

A/N: im being active rn lolll. how do we like avery and azzi

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #uconn #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #nika muhl #kk arnold

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

#happy alton more day! #holy shit im actually posting this...i've been sitting on it for MONTHS #but YEAH its just...the gothic romanticism about the physical embodiment of war and soldiers and the concept of death you know?? #what it means to feel and to live and to connect to those around you when it all feels so fleeting #fleeting not just due to the nature of war but also the nature of immortality #or something #...look i have a lot of thoughts about this story okay #it kills me #its also known in my brain as the “how immortal soldier!alton more made friends” story #because literally thats it thats the plot #OH WAIT did i forget to mention that speirs is also an immortal soldier in this story?? #oh yeah thats the best fucking bit - they met like centuries and centuries ago on the wrong ends of one of the various punic wars #(where speirs was known back then as...wait for it...TERTIUS) #its good goddamn shit okay #also explains why alton is so fucking unflinching towards speirs at any given point and why they were so petty about the photo albums #ANYWAYS if anyone wants to hear more about this!! come stop on by!!! #also yes the title is a reference to the old guard #as is the reference to the siege of jerusalem which is where joe and nicky met #immortal soldier!alton more #alton more #easy company #band of brothers fic #mine #band of brothers #bofb #hbowar #em's moodboards #em writes #jesus christ i guess that's a tag now #alright here we go out into the void

[gazelessmenagerie]

artist challenge level: draw while ur cat is on your lap

Cowboys from Hell starts blaring

#|| Etchings in the Walls { Art } #( please ignore my dumbass notes. its like 2 am and i did this in like 2.5 hours. why is drawing so damn hard ;; ) #( at any rate its just a rough idea I got smacked with. ) #( and ive been trying hard to find time to draw without motivation tanking or my art not doing it for me. ) #( fuck man anflsdfkjg ) #( but yeah. just idk. I wanted a more Soutwestern feel to him bc in this Au. he died. Horribly. ) #( like getting a rope around his neck and getting dragged by a team of horses until the rope cut into his neck and he died. adsnlfjg) #( he gotta be angry about something to repossess his own gd body and rise as an undead revenant seeking revenge. ) #( and ofc its like.. idk maybe some space cowboy shit. idk. could be an alternate earth. or shit idk. ) #( compared to how his /earth attire/ is in the normal verse where its more of a modern cowboy take. ) #( i just realley want that undead west aesthetic ) #( but also I realized I dont know how to draw fucking bones and I cried up to this point. ) #( tried to add some elements here and there. idk if I'll keep it or change it but yeah. now if only I could refine it in like 40 minutes ) #( bc i dont want to spend my entire night drawing and hating it in the morning. ) #( also why tf do cats just decide to sit on ur lap. YOU HAD ALL DAY TO DO THAT. NOT WHEN IM DRAWING. ) #( -still kisses cat on head- )

[andthebeanstalk]

Thank you, younger me, for drawing so many things in which the lines were never quite right. It is quite literally the only reason I ever figured out how to get them right.

#And I imagine future me will have a very similar thing to say when I am them and they are no longer me. #original #something about zyr improved composition and speed hopefully #i keep wanting to use she pronouns for future me. probably bc that is what i do for past me sometimes. #but i really don't think I'm ever going to want she her pronouns again #I still don't get my lines exactly how I want them a lot of the time but I am at a point where I'm fairly confident I can #produce nearly anything I see in my head and capture the spirit of it in a way that makes me proud. #even if it takes a really really long time sometimes. #and although I don't think the art I made growing up was bad i love the phrase #' the road to good art is paved with bad art.' I think I saw it in a video by Bobby Chiu? idk. #and I like it because whenever I'm not sure about what I'm making and I get to insecure or perfectionist about it #*too insecure #I remember that if I want to get good at the thing I'm struggling with I'm going to have to do it poorly or just okay a bunch of times #and that doing this is my ticket to this skill I'm placing value on. also doesn't hurt that Im drawing things I love and I enjoy doing it #although at this point I really really should just sit down and study leg muscles for like a hundred years #it's one of the more longstanding blindspots of mine. that and literally everything that is not people. #as in locations animals objects scenery... did you know that most graphic novels have some or all of those things??? #how homophobic that in order to show my characters experiencing such luxuries as plot action and context I couldn't just #drop them on a gradient and be done with it! #I've been drawing for like 20 years and only a couple years ago was i like... OH MY GOD I CAN'T DRAW A FUCKING TREE

[sereina-archive]

Not only do her and her husband both have a pokemon that was killed by the leader’s ace of the evil teams they were fighting at the time, but said deceased pokemon both were nicknamed with names starting with the letter ‘O’, and their species name also share the first letter too.

What the hell kind of coincidence-

#🌹 ic. #🌹 status. #the first points were obvious but it took me until goddamn TONIGHT to realize lucario and lapras both share the letter l in their species #like. what kind of fuckery is that #neither of us planned this!!! at all!!!!!!!!!! #you have no idea how much has perfectly worked out w them #like to the point where im sitting there like how the fuck did this all work out so well. and then there's the similarities like THIS #serena laying awake in bed rn thinking abt this like what the heck. the first part is already specific enough to share w someone-

[begaycommittreason]

honestly i forgot that dick originally wanted to adopt jason as well just imagine how chaotic that would’ve been like

——————

jay: uh what’s for dinner

dick: well we have cereal and…

dick:

dick: hey don’t kids like the whole breakfast for dinner thing?

jay: i miss alfred

——————

dick: and for a bed i’d like to introduce you to this lovely thing called a futon!!

jay: …better than a cardboard box i guess

——————

jay: can i fight crime yet

dick: you’re a child

jay: you’re a slightly larger child

dick: …fair point, no extreme violence and minimum 4 flips per patrol

——————

dick: when a mommy and daddy love each other very much—

jay: i am not doing this with you dickface i know what sex is

dick: wait no little wing i have a powerpoint presentation. it’s color coded and everything!

jay: i wish i’d stayed on the street

——————

dick: okay that’s enough, you know what, get on top of the fridge

jay, hissing: this house is a fucking nightmare

——————

jay: hey some friends at school wanted to watch a movie, is it okay if they come here—

dick: yes, yes! oh my god finally i’m so proud you’re making friends jaybird, i’m gonna be the coolest host dad ever i’ll make pizza and

jay, already on the phone: yeah he said no, sorry guys, can we do it at tommy’s?

——————

dick teaching jason trapeze and circus stuff 😭

——————

jay: god the circus is so lame

dick: exCUSE ME i’m disowning you, get out

jay: WHAT

——————

dick, who forgot to pick up jay from school: oh god i’m so sorry, i’ll never do it again

jay, who’s thrilled to be allowed in the library after hours every time, but never one to pass on a guilt trip: wow dick i never thought you of all people would abandon me

——————

dick: listen my support group says-

jay: you joined a support group for single moms dickface, that doesn’t count

dick: it does too, they all think i’m very brave for doing this alone

jay: for fucks sake-

——————

dick, coming home late from a date and seeing the lights on: uhh hello?

jay, sitting on a stool: and just where have you been all night young man?

dick: IM 26

——————

jason, pointing at the wayne family photos: so who do we like, and who do i hate on principle

dick:

dick: okay so this is complicated

jason: there’s only like three living people??

dick: right. so—

——————

dick, who pulled an all-nighter working on a case: good morning!

jay, who was reading jane austen and didn’t notice the sun came up: right…morning

dick:

jay:

dick: you didn’t sleep did you

jay: well clearly neither did you

dick: fair enough, coffee?

——————

jay: so this guy was shovin’ me around and-

dick: i’ll kill him

jay: …no.

dick: but-

jay: his mom’s the librarian and i can’t afford to fall out of sharon’s good graces

——————

dick: look it’s not my fault i’m so charismatic

jay: i’m not asking for a lot here

dick: you’re asking me to suppress my nature

jay: i’m asking you to stop flirting with all my teachers at parent teacher conferences

dick: c’mon it’s not that big of a deal

jay: …miss shields gave me her phone number to pass along the other day. so did mr. burnes, it’s getting outta hand dick

dick: oh i see, this is serious

dick: she’s really cute, maybe i should-

jay: STOP IT

——————

#dick actually choosing to pass the robin mantle on to jason 😭 #they’d be so cute your honor #dick grayson #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #dc

[ragingbookdragon]

It comes as somewhat a surprise when the others realize that something has obviously happened between their resident Lieutenant and Private, as she’s quick to fall silent whenever he appears, and even more so make herself scare when she can when he’s around. It’s only the third time that Soap sees it that he says something, because if he doesn’t no one else will, and where’s the fun in that?

He watches her duck her head and leave the break room, Gaz, Soap, Price, and Ghost sitting alone at the breakfast table conversing over soggy cereal and cooling tea; Soap pushes a piece of bacon on his plate and asks, “Trouble in paradise, Lt?” the corner of his mouth arches with a slight grin when he hears the warning grunt come from Ghost.

“No.”

“Seems like it,” he retorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “What’d ya do? Tell her ta fuck off?”

“Drop it, MacTavish,” Ghost warns darkly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

This time, Gaz jumps in. “C’mon, Lt., it’s obvious that something’s wrong. I mean, she won’t even look at you, let alone say anything unless you speak first.”

“An’ she’s callin’ ‘im ‘sir.’” Soap adds, pointing at him. “Christ, Lt., ya musta done a number on ‘er. Poor Puffin. So sweet and kind. Broke ‘er heart ya did.”

Price can tell that Ghost is close to snapping at the both of them but gets to it before he does. “Soap, Gaz, go catalogue our inventory for the mission next week.”

“Aw, but we already d—” Soap falls silent when Price shoots him a look and quietly grumbles to himself as he grabs his plate and cup, Gaz following in suit.

It’s only until the two soldiers are alone that Price asks, “What did happen, Simon?”

Ghost lets out a long sigh and rolls his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Pretty much told ‘er to fuck off.”

Price watches quietly as Ghost begins rattling to himself—he’s never really had to ask the man to explain himself. All he’s gotta do is prompt him to do so and Ghost does the rest.

“I just got mad. She’s always ‘round and practically up my arse, and I got caught up and instead of ‘andlin’ it properly, I shoved my fucking foot in my mouth and scalped her.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I meant to be gentler but once I started, I couldn’t stop. It just kept comin’ out. And now she fuckin’ hates me.”

He pulls his hand down and looks up at Price with a scowl—the man is smiling at him, but it’s that stupid smile that means more than Ghost wants to admit it does.

“Quit that.”

“You care about her,” Price murmurs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, though his admonish is still harsh. “And instead of telling her how you felt like a grown adult, you took the ten-year-old way out and decided to be a cunt to her.”

“I didn’t mean to be such a cunt.”

“But the fact of the matter is that you did, and you’ve screwed up team fluidity and cohesion.” He looks at him. “You know a team divided—”

“Can’t stand,” Ghost finishes with an even worse scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looks away. “I just don’t know how to even start tryin’ to fix it.”

“Well, apologizing might be a good start,” Price rumbles with a grin. “She’s a good kid, Simon. Her heart’s in the right place, even if it’s a bit much at times. Shows she cares. More than most do in our line of work. She’s a rare one.”

“I know,” he admits in a much, much softer tone. “I just don’t want her to lose that doin’ this.” His eyes meet Price’s, and they hold such a misery. “Look at us, Price,” he mutters, gesturing between them. “Middle age, unmarried, no kids, too fucked up for anything like that. She doesn’t…” he clenches his jaw. “She deserves a better path, a safer path, than this life. She deserves to go out and have a life where she comes home to a family.”

“That’s not your choice to make, son,” he replies gently, but there’s a firmness to it. “If this is what she wants to do, then she will. We can’t make her get out of service.”

Ghost growls low in his throat. “She has so much more potential than being cannon fodder. She could do somethin’ with her life. Somethin’ good. Somethin’ that won’t have her dying face down in the sand with a bullet wound in the back.”

Price simply watches him.

“But she’s so fuckin’ stupid. She wants to be here. She wants to spend whatever time she has dodgin’ bullets and wakin’ up every night in sweat ‘cause she can’t escape the dreams. No one wants to do this. We don’t want to do this. We do this because we have to. But her? She’s happy here.” He lowers his voice, it’s as if he’s in disbelief. “She’s happy here.” He looks at Price. “Why? Why is she so happy here?”

It's another long moment before Price speaks.

“You hear, son, but you don’t listen.” He moves the cup on the saucer. “She bounced around homes growing up, scraped by on the skin of her teeth. She has no one. But here, she has something. She has people who care for her, if nothing else, they won’t let her die alone.”

“Oh what? So, it’s found family bullshit?” Ghost spits. “If she dies, at least the team would mourn her?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve done too?” he replies, and Ghost falls silent. “People like Gaz, Soap, and myself are different than you and she are, Simon. We have homes. We’ve had families that have loved us, that do love us. But you two? Simon, you’ve made a home where you’ve had to. Made a family out of people you’ve bled for, would gladly bleed for. You’ve made something that’s yours. You made a family for yourself. And so did she. She’s made us her family. The one she never had the privilege to call her own.”

Price lets out a quiet hum, and pats his thighs, standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Think on what I’ve said, son. And if nothing else, apologize and leave it at that. Put the ball in her court and let her make the next move.”

As he walks off, he hears, “And if she doesn’t want it?”

He tosses a knowing look over his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll take it.” His eyes twinkle as he adds, “Takes an awful strong woman to care about a man like you.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader imagines #simon ghost riley x reader imagine #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley imagine #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader imagine #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghost #cod #cod imagines #cod imagine #captain price #price #john soap mactavish #soap #john mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #kyle garrick

[orcelito]

watching episode 5 of trigun 98 was useful for intl chapter 8 reasons too. bc as much as ive analyzed that part of the manga, it's still kinda hard to know wtf is going on during early action scenes lol

#speculation nation #itnl shit #i did make some progress on the next chapter. then i got to the point where shit's gonna happen and was like 'ehhh' #and stopped writing to go take an hour long bike ride thru the woods #that's. such a very me thing to do actually. #i was sitting on the bridge above the river & writing. as i often do. #and then i got to the harder part and i was just like 'ykno what fuck this' and just. started biking and di dnot stop #until i literally got to the part where the trail was labeled No Bikes Allowed & i was just like 'ok guess i will turn back now' #the siren's call of the deep woods and unexplored areas #anywys yea Nebraska Family and what have u. i also appreciated the wider shots we got of the city #i will say 98 does a better job of making the world feel bigger. gives me a better feel for architecture and city layout #makes it feel like an actual City ykno? #i can understand why nightow wouldnt wanna draw a whole fuckin city. but it's still nice to have a better feel for scale. #anywys ya. im hoping that i can properly get this show on the road soon. with chapter 8. #tho. hm. im at 1k words rn & idk how long the meeting's gonna be #ACTUALLYYYYYYYYYYYYY i might be taking a page out of 98's book with how Meryl's spent so long chasing after the idea of Vash the Stampede #only to come across him (again) and b like 'wtf youre actually Like This?' #probably was a very good thing for me to start watching 98 before getting to this point in the story. it's gonna add some depth to it all

[suncoved]

STOP IT RAFE, YOU'RE BEING MEAN! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; bestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary; rafe has a strict rule that if you ever leave anywhere, you tell him. and when you break that rule, he goes ballistic (bsf!rafe cameron x reader)

warnings ; angst! verbal fighting, angry!rafe, kinda mean rafe, theyre both annoyingly oblivious.. warning this did not turn out how i planned it to be but im also not mad at it, idkkkk

to say you were bored was an understatement.

it was a regular rowdy saturday night in the outerbanks, this nights party being at a random kooks house on the figure eight whose name you couldn't quite remember

you were nursing a forgotten red solo cup of punch in your hand, crowd-watching to pass the time.

it wasn't normal that rafe actually succeeded in convincing you to come to these things. because as much as you liked chatting with spoiled self-absorbed kooks over disgustingly sweet punch, you'd rather stay cuddled up in your fluffy pyjamas and watch sappy romcoms on rafe's couch.

but nevertheless, here you were. dreading every decision you had ever made up to that point as you watched rafe from across the room. a blonde kook girl climbing over him and straddling his hips, sitting on his lap as he smirked.

you knew you really had no right being mad at him because you weren’t dating.

but from the start of your more than 10 year friendship, rafe made it clear that you were and always will be his.

so why didn’t that rule go both ways?

with all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, you failed to hear a certain blonde pouges voice echo around you.

you snapped out of your state, consciousness returning to your mind as a hand was waved repeatedly in your face.

“hey! you there princess?” a smile adorned the boys face, a ratty snapback placed backwards on his blonde hair.

“yeah, jj. right here” you joked, smiling brightly back at him as you brought your cup up to your lips.

“thought we lost you there for a bit princess? what’d you doing standing here all alone?” jj asked, surprised to see your constant kook king shadow nowhere to be seen.

“just people watching, the usual. where’s kie?” you quickly changed the subject, wanting anything to get your mind off of rafe.

“around here somewhere i hope. gonna’ try to round everyone up to we can get outta here. early morning for us cut goers tomorrow, fish to catch and things to steal” you giggled at his joke, earning an even wider grin on his face.

you always liked jj. you thought he was funny, and he was the most loyal person to his friends that you knew. and despite his manic tendencies, you trusted him.

“have a nice night j. drive safe!” you said, watching him wink at you before he disappeared into the crowd.

with jj gone, you were left to your own thoughts agian, which was never a good thing.

you glanced over again at rafe sitting comfortably on the couch on the deck. the light from inside illuminating his face as he leaned over to the table, picking up a small bag of white powder and handing it to a random touran.

you bit your lip as you noticed the same blonde from before clinging to his side, rafe seeming unbothered but making no move to push her off.

god, you couldn’t even imagine how rafe would react if he saw you speaking to jj earlier. so why is it that he can literally let a girl dry hump him in the middle of a party and you shouldn’t care?

you didn’t know why you cared though, because rafe is you best friend, nothing more.

right?

you didn’t have time to think about that right now though, you just needed to get the fuck out of this party right now or you were gonna explode.

an idea clicked in your brain and jj dragged a drunk john b towards the entrance of the house, kiara and pope following quickly behind.

you decided that this was now or never, placing your red solo cup onto a random table as you walked towards them.

“hey jj!” you called out, his head immediately snapping towards you. “you think you could give me a ride home?”

it was nearly 30 minutes later that rafe noticed you were no longer in your spot in corner of the house. business was coming to a halt as he sold his last few grams of cocaine, a heavy wad of cash safely resting in his back pocket.

his eyes scanned the crowd for your face, but you were no where to be seen.

and rafe was starting to freak the fuck out.

he knew you wouldn’t go upstairs to any bedrooms, or go out for an impulse swim in the pool. and he knew most of all that you wouldn’t just leave without telling him, and the notification box in his voice remained empty from your contact.

he ran his hand roughly through his hair, pulling aggressively at the roots and cussing to himself frustrated.

his eyes widened as he saw your friend in the crowd, interrupting what ever useless conversation she was having, because until he knew you were safe, nothing was more important.

he asked rudely where you were, watching as her face morphed into shock that rafe was talking to her. because well, if it’s not plotting on the pouges or selling drugs, rafe doesn’t interact with anyone but you or his friends.

“i-i im not sure. i saw her leave like a bit less than half an hour ago. i thought she told you, she always does”

rafe clenched his jaw, hundreds and thousands of thoughts running through his head. “was she alone?”

“n-no. she was with that jj guy and his friends” your friend murmured, nervous she was ratting you out to the scariest guy in the whole of kildare.

it was safe to say that rafe was fucking pissed.

it took him less than a few seconds to put his keys into the ignition of his jeep and drive illegally fast to your house. you liked to piss him off often when you were in a mood, but never with your safety.

rafe never fucked with your safety, ever.

he murmured venomous cusses to himself and he walked towards your house, the pebbles from your mothers perfect drive way crunching under his feet as he speed to your door.

he made a beeline to the entrance of your home, the white arches welcoming and the doorway dimly lit by the porch lights.

he planted his feet straight on the 'welcome home' door mat, lifting his balled fist up to the door and sending booming knocks to the wood panel.

his knuckles were white as he clenched his fists so hard together there was sure to be crimson-red crescent indents from his fingernails. he was fuming.

the click of the lock releasing from the door snapped him out of his thoughts, the door handle turning and the lobby of the inside of your house quickly coming into view.

he locked eyes with your figure immediately, a pink fluffy towel in your hand as you dried your hair. you were only wearing a pair of long socks and rafes shirt which reached more than halfway down your thighs, your face bare of makeup.

you jumped as you saw the look on his face, an anger prevalent in his stare that you had never seen directed at you. fuck. you were in some deep shit.

you parted your lips to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. for the first time in your life, you were scared of rafe. not that he was going to harm you physically, no, never that.

but you knew how much he cared about you and your safety. you just wished he cared that much about your feelings. you wanted him to see that.

"rafe" you said, your voice coming out as a whisper as you watch the lines on his forehead crease together as thousands of thoughts ran through his head.

"what the fuck were you thinking?" he spat as he pushed you as softly as he could into the house so he could close the door, worried the cold of the night was going to make you shiver.

you didn't have time to answer before he started again, running a hand roughly through his hair as he huffed. "you just left? you fucking left a party at night without even texting me, and you let that fucking pouge drive you home!"

you rolled your eyes at the last statement, this was all about jj? "so that's all you care about? me going home with a boy i've known since third grade who just so happens to live on the cut? you don't give a shit about me, you just care about this stupid kook pouge rivalry!"

"don't say what you know isn't true ma. you know i care about you more than i care about myself." he stated, nearly all the anger in him draining out as he saw your eyes begin to fill with tears. he couldn't handle seeing you cry.

"how do i know you care about me rafe? because you don't seem to show it." you sighed pushing yourself as far away from him as you could, your back pushing up against the wall.

"don't fucking say to me y/n. i've loved you from the moment i met you." you finally stopped looking at the floor, lifting your chin so you made eye contact with him.

"stop it rafe, you're being mean" you whispered, mostly to yourself more than rafe. you couldn't listen to him say how much he loved and cared about you for one more second. not when you still had the picture of him being essentially dry-humped in the middle of a party by a girl you didn't even know.

"ma i love you. you know that. you're my world, my favourite girl. why are you fighting this?" rafe said, trying to hold you wrist in his hand before you quickly pulled it away.

"bec-because you can't just say all this then turn around and have make outs with other girls right in front of me. it-its not fair." you spoke, the tears finally making their way down your cheeks in steady streams.

rafe physically flinched at your statement, his palms getting sweaty and his heart rate increasing into rapid beats. was he actually going to admit his love for you right now, like this?

"what are you saying y/n?" he asked, his voice cracking as his face fell. his mind racing with how many outcomes could come out of this conversation.

"that i love you, you idiot!"

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst

[feyascorner]

okay first of all i ADORE ur writing… wanna take a bite out of it..

anyway… uh… can i uhh… order a uhh…. astarion x tav.. and like..tav has a fucking insane pain tolerance and always has.. and like… uhh… one time she gets fucking TOTALED in a fight and like obvi it would hurt… and shes like crying subconsciously.. and when some1 points it out shes like “what???? why am i crying wtf???” and like looks down and is just fucking BLEEDING… n then.. astarion comfort…

only if u want thoo!!!!

a/n. Im like the exact opposite I'm very dramatic about the slightest pain but this is such a cute request so Ty!! ALSO PLS EXCUSE IF THIS IS A LITTLE CLUNKY I HAD TO TYPE THIS OUT W MY FINGERS🫠🫠

Astarion is grateful for your tolerance to pain.

Of course, he doesn't particularly enjoy watching you in pain, but he’s no fool. He knows the sting and the soreness that comes after he drinks from your neck. Well, at least, it should sting. However, it never seemed to bother you, and for that, he's forever grateful for it.

These strange sentiments expand past his thirst for blood, as the relief he feels when you’re battered up after a battle and you smile at him as if nothing’s wrong is incomparable to any other feeling he’s felt.

That relief does not come currently, however.

The battle was nearly hopeless. Overwhelmed in number, mages casting counterspell, fighters constantly aiming at you…he’s lost track of it all. By some miracle you and your companions stand victorious, and when he sees that you offer Karlach a lopsided smile, confirming that you're fine, he reaches to pick up one of his daggers.

“Tav—what in the hells, are you okay?”

It’s then that he spots the way your lip quivers and tears glisten threateningly at your eyes. And when you meet his own, they begin to drip down your cheeks like crystals and roll off your chin. He's seen you in tears before, but out of something more positive—not from pain. Before he can even tell what he's doing, he's rushing toward you.

“Why are you—” he sees the blood seeping from your stomach, and his face would've gone pale if he could.

You finally lift your hands to your face, eyes wide when your fingertips brush against the dampness of your cheeks. “Oh. Why am I?…”

Shadowheart scrambles to scrimmage around her bag. “Here, let me—gods, where did I—did we use all the healing potions?—”

“Oh for hells sake. Because you're bleeding!” Astarion hisses, his hand intertwining with yours as he drags you toward the nearest tree where he sits you down. He freezes when you flinch but you shake your head, wiping at your eyes. Your other companions are still searching the enemy corpses for anything that might relieve you of the pain, but they're taking far too long for his liking.

“I’m okay, it doesn't really hurt that much.”

“You’re crying.”

“I didn't even know I was-” you wince.

His eyes narrow. “Lay down.”

“What? No, I’m really fine!”

“Gods, love, please for once, listen to me. It’s quite straining to watch you clamber around with that ghastly wound on your stomach.”

You frown, but he guides you down anyway, careful to lay down your head against the grass. “Now wait patiently. Maybe if we’re lucky, our dear friends will find a potion before I start developing wrinkles.”

A momentary silence hangs in the air. It’s by no means uncomfortable, but there are words on the tip of his tongue he wishes to say. And when he notices you staring, he sighs.

“If you're hurt, tell us. I don't care how high your pain tolerance is—if you're hurt, call us. Call me. Don't be a fool and bleed out over a few enemies when we’ve been through so much worse.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost embarrassing. But with the way you're watching him so seriously, he can't bring himself to dwell on such irrelevant factors.

Then, you smile again, as if you've forgotten about the pain. “How minor can the pain be for me to call you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Can I call you when I stub a toe?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I will.”

He stares at you with lidded eyes and you laugh. He feels the weight on his shoulders get a bit lighter.

“You may call for me whenever you wish.”

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Hi, I wanted to ask for a Clarisse fanfic where the reader is gifted in the arts? I would also like to ask that the reader be a daughter of Hades :)

What’s a girl to do

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x daughter of hades! Fem! Reader

An - this lowkey sucked but YALL will live

You had always been gifted in the arts. From dance, music, art itself and even theater.

Being that you were a hades kid most kids avoided you, not that because your dad was the king of the underworld but because just being around you gave them an unsettling feeling.

Something every great artist had was a muse, someone they could go to for inspiration, someone that gave their work meaning. But you? You didn’t have a muse.

Sure you’ve had inspiration come from all types of media but never once did you have an actual person you could call your muse.

That had changed though when you met clarisse. It started out small with small doodles of her. Then she started to show up as small details in your song lyrics. And even going as far as using her as your model in your photos

You two were friends.. but you knew you wanted more then that.

——

Clarisse spun her spear around on the sandy beach. She was so in the moment that she hadn’t heard the sound of your camera going off.

She ended in a pose with her spear tucked under her arm. Panting that’s when she realized you were sitting near by.

“You know its creepy to take photos of people without their knowledge right”

“Eh you’ll live” you smiled. Clarisse had always been beautiful even in situations like now where she was panting and sweaty from her workout.

You walked over towards her smiling sat the picture

She was a natural. The way clarisse moved her body it was like she was meant to be infront of the camera.

subconsciously you started leaning into her to show her the photo. “this one here, I like how your curls kinda spun around with you, you know” You smiled, clarisse nodded placing a hand around your waist, she had always done that but it didn’t mean it didn’t get you flustered everytime.

“Mmhm” she stuck her spear in the ground before reaching over placing her free hand onto yours clicking back on the camera to a photo of her standing with her spear pointed down the sun hitting her at a certian angle adding dramatics. “this one is better”

“Well I think both are fine” you smiled looking over at clarisse. Your faces were close. So close if you even just moved a little you might accidentally kiss.

You waited for clarisse to do something, to move away and tell you to piss off but she didn’t. Instead you started to feel her rub circles on your hip.

Almost out of a movie mark clarisses bother appeared. “Clarisse!” He yelled gaining the now irritated girls attention.

“The hell do You want Mark im busy” she looked over at him not wanting to deal his bullshit. “It’s Sam and Jane, they got into another fight and are in the infirmary now Chiron wants to see you about it all”

You watched as clarisses closed her eyes trying to calm down even a little. She looked back at you before squeezing your hip and letting go to head off to beat her siblings.

You stood there frozen and embarrassed. Clarisse didn’t like you. There was no way if anything she liked silena. Clarisse only saw you as a friend…

Right..

——

Around 3am you decided to sneak out of your cabin not able to sleep.

Lazily walking around the camp trying to not get caught you noticed a familiar girl jumping out the ares cabin window. Using shadow travel you quickly moved to stand beside the cabin.

Clarisse sighed as she landed on the ground, silently closing the window “since when did you sneak out”

“Fuck!” She whisper yelled having to pull her hand back from hitting you. “What the hell are you doing out here”

“Selling hardcore drugs— now you tell me why your ever so quietly leaving your cabin” you sarcastically spoke. Clarisse rolled her eyes in defiance. “Your a pain in my ass you know” she scoffed.

You shrugged your shoulders. “You’ve said worse to Me” starting to follow the girl into the forest you took in the scenery.

The full moon brought you a sense of comfort, mainly in the fact that the goddess nyx had always brought protection to people in need through the veil of night.

Clarisse continued until she came to a clearing in the woods, high on the mountian side and far enough away from the camp you wouldn’t get caught but high enough you could see the stretched out lake.

“Wow..” you whispered. “I never new this spot existed”

“That’s supposed to be the point”

“Is this where you take girls to makeout with them then torture them before k—“

“I’m not some insane serial killer dumbass” clarisse laughed pushing you softly before sitting down. You followed her lead sitting a little to close to her.

After a few moments you watched as clarisse silently complained befote grabbing some Kindle Wood arranging it to make a small fire. Using a lighter most likely taken from the big house.

After sitting back watching the fire clarisse looked over at you. “How long have you been doing all this shit”

You raised an eyebrow confused. “You mean photography” you chuckled, Clarisse nodded in response her face unreadable.

You sighed for a moment “uhh I’m not really sure, I just I’ve always had a passion for the arts and been naturally gifted in them, I like photography the best with painting being right underneath though” you tucked some hair behind your ear slightly embarrassed.

“Why me” she continued to asked. “Like out of every camper here why am I the one you take the most photos of me”

“Well I Ju—“

“Wait wait don’t tell me you like me” clarisse laughed at the end of her statement. You went to speak but decided to stay quiet letting clarisse finish her laughing fit it. She soon stopped looking over with a playful face. “Wait seriously.. you use me as your muse because you like me”

You started to get up embarrassed walking away quickly not wanting to listen to the girl yelling after you. About five steps into your leave clarisse grabbed your arm. “Gods damnit can you just wait” she huffed.

“Yeah because I just love being laughed at thanks clarisse” you tried to pull your arm away but it was pointless “you know it’s actually really shitty to laugh at someone when you find out they like yo—“

You were cut off by clarisse grabbing your head and crashing her lips against yours. Not caring how messy it was, clarisse kept a firm hold on your head while grabbing your waist pushing you against her.

The kiss moved from messy to controlled. You let clarisse hold you close, soft breaths leaving both your mouths not wanting to pull away but still needing to breathe.

Pulling away you felt clarisses hot breath on your lips. “Do you ever stop talking” she asked now with her hand on the side of your face comfortingly rubbing circles. You rolled your eyes but kept quiet, your arms around clarisses neck.

Clarisses kissed you once again slowly, she pulled away kissing your cheek. “I like you to dumbass”

“Really..?”

“Uh yeah you really think I let anyone take photos and draw me?”

You playfully pushed the girls shoulder before pulling her back into a grinful kiss

“Great now that we’re together can we please go back to the fire it’s cold as shit out here”

“Whatever La rue”

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse larue #pjo show #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #percy jackson

[findmeinforks]

The Incident - Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

A little one shot that I just couldn't stop writing. A good angst to fluff (btw my fics will never be all angst, im too soft). Also do not fear, Im working on a Sam fic and part 3 to not letting you go. But you let ME know what you think of this one ❤️ 2K words

"My SISTER, Paul. She's my fucking SISTER!" you yelled, voice hoarse as your throat cracked.

"I could give a SHIT LESS WHAT SHE IS. YOU'RE. NOT. GOING." He screamed, jaw taut as he tried his best to subside the tremors that were threatening to take over his body.

You ignored the teeth he bared, shaking your head and scoffing.

"Aren't you tired of this?! I'm going over there. I HAVE to know she's safe."

"YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I'LL JUST SIT BY AND WATCH MY IMPRINT GO TO A PLACE WHERE I CAN'T PROTECT HER? WHAT ABOUT ME KNOWING THAT YOU'RE SAFE?? HUH?? YOU'RE SICK IF YOU THINK I WOULD BE OKAY WITH THIS!"

"Sick?!? SICK?!? LETS TALK ABOUT HOW 'SICK' IT IS THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO KILL HER AND THE BABY. THATS MY FAMILY PAUL!"

"AND WERE NOT?"

It had been like this for a week straight. Ever since the pack stormed through the door announcing their mission to kill Bella and the unborn child within her.

You felt as though your two families had been pinned against each other. Head spinning at the idea of there being a 'choice' between your sister and imprint.

On one hand you were desperate to make sure she was alright, but also exhausted at the never ending battle with your boyfriend.

Sure you had talked to Bella over the phone, but you didn't buy into the lies like your father had. Even though you knew significantly more than he did, she still attempted to downplay the situation. She had done this numerous times since getting thrown into the vampire world, but she could only keep you in the dark for so long before you unraveled the truth.

You had to see her. Even if it was the last time. By fate, or at the hands of the pack. You had to be there for her, as she would you.

Leaving your imprint though? Was at task challenging at best. On at least four different occasions you fought with Paul for so long that Emily and Sam had to intervene, prying you two apart at the pleads of other pack members.

Emily would console you while you ranted and Sam would make Paul run off his anger in the woods. When you faced him again, it turned into a rerun of the same argument. Nobody in the house had gotten sleep, and the things were progressively getting worse.

Quil came through the door, widening his eyes.

"Just a heads up everyone, a little comedic relief does not go over well. I saw my life flash before Paul's eyes." He huffed before sitting down.

"When is this going to be overrrr?" Embry whined. He shoved his head in his hands on the kitchen table while you and Paul went at it in the front yard.

Emily sighed.

"Unfortunately sooner than you think....Y/N packed her suitcase this morning." She said quietly.

"You're not really going to let her go over there are you?!?" Kim stood up, looking at both Emily and Sam.

"If you would like to stop her, please, be my guest." Sam motioned his hand to outside, where you and Paul could be seen through the window. You were throwing your arms up and pointing fingers at him, while his voice boomed loudly, towering his large frame over yours.

Kim winced.

You had always been the calm to Paul's raging storm. 'Made him all soft' as the guys would tease. None of them had actually seen you two disagree with each other. In the mind link they saw glimpses of minor arguments, most of the time being reconciled in the sheets..

Paul eventually got an order by Sam to think about something else while on patrol. 'Literally, anything else'.

"She's not going anywhere. I can count on my hand how many times they've been apart since he imprinted. They'll work it out eventually." Jared said as he pulled Kim on his lap, taking a hunk out of his apple.

Kim didn't share a look that she believed him, worriedly looking out to where you stood.

A few moments passed when her body stiffened and she gasped, making Jared look where she was.

"SHIT! SHIT!" He said, throwing Kim off his lap.

Sam turned to look out the window in time to see Paul phase, his sharp claw making contact with your skin. Your blood curdling scream instantly had everyone else off their seats, nearly knocking each other over to race outside.

You laid on the ground as your body wracked with sobs, clutching your side. Blood gushed through your hand as you started to panic, scrambling to stand. The large silver wolf only stood for a few moments before Paul shifted back, completely horrified as he frantically tried to reach you.

He felt his heart nearly rip out of his chest as you backpedaled into Emily, who was helping to hold you upright.

"NO! NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! IM DONE!" You cried.

Sam stood in the middle of the two of you.

Paul could feel his chest caving in, hand out, speaking more gently than he had at all in the past week.

"B-baby. Please. Please, I'm- I'm so sorry baby. Please let me just see-"

"NO! I'm done. I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm done." You repeated like a mantra, limping to the car.

"Y/N you cannot drive like this..." Emily attempted to say as she stepped in from behind you. She could see your anxiety was heightened, and afraid to set you off further.

"I have to go," you choked, on the verge of tears as you tried to open the drivers side. You had yet to even notice the gash in your side, adrenaline pumping wildly through your body.

Paul made his way around Sam, grabbing your other arm that was holding the door.

"You are crazy if you think I'm letting you leave like this. Please come-"

You yanked your arm from his grasp.

"Don't. Let me go!" You said coldly.

Paul froze. He couldn't move. You never spoke to him like this. Even in the numerous fights you two had this week.

Every single instinct in his body needed to help you. He knew you were downplaying your injuries. He knew he just royally fucked everything up. But the absolute last thing you could do was walk into a house full of vampires dripping in blood. Fucking doctor or not.

"Come inside and let me take a look at you, okay? Please." Emily said to coax you, frantically looking at your wound.

This made Sam follow her gaze, looking down to see the blood pouring from your side hadn't stopped, and you were growing paler by the minute.

"Y/N....you're going to stay here and I'll call Sue." He said in an authoritative voice, leaving no room to argue as he turned to start dialing the number.

You almost argued. You almost fought both of them on the subject. Your stubbornness almost won.

But you felt an immense pain. So strong you don't know how the hell you didn't notice it when you stood up.

That couldn't be good.

"....Y/N?" Paul said, barely above a whisper. Tears were now silently streaming down his face as he held both hands out slightly. Not close enough to touch you but to be prepared in case you fell.

You could feel yourself start to float in and out of consciousness. You tried to ground yourself by focusing on something. You looked at his hands that were outstretched.

Those hands that you held on your first date. The hands that hover your back anywhere you go. The hands that lift you up from the couch on movie nights to bring you to bed. The hands that move in just the right way when making love to you. The hands that were now shaking, not out of anger, but fear. You loved those hands.

"Y/N? Baby?" Paul said louder, more urgently as he could see you fading.

You watched him get blurry as the world started to spin.

"Paul," you murmured, before fading into darkness. The last thing you remember were the hands that caught you before you hit the ground.

"Y/N!!!" Paul screamed as he caught your body falling into him.

Sam ran back, telling him Sue was just up the street. He instructed Paul to carry you inside and onto the bed. The pack dispersed, each trying to find something to help you such as towels, an emergency kit and pillows.

Paul held you close as he lay you down, while repeatedly whispering in your ear.

"I'm so sorry baby. I'm so-so sorry. I cant lose you. Youre everything to me. I'll never yell at you again. I swear on my life. You can do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want. Please, I love you." Paul pressed kisses to your hairline when Sue and her nurse friend entered.

Jared reluctantly came in behind them to lead Paul out of the room as they worked.

"Come on man, she'll wake up soon I promise."

After he was guided out, Paul slid down to sit on the other side of the door, refusing to move. Jared didn't push it, leaning down to sit next to him.

"Sue's seen this kind of stuff before. Just needs stitching up and stuff," Jared reassured as he put his hand on Paul's shoulder.

"It's not the injuries I'm worried about. So much as what she'll think of me when she wakes up. I....I fucked this one up, Jare."

"If Emily can forgive Sam, I think Y/N will forgive you. She's crazy about your ass."

Paul just nodded, praying he was right.

~

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you woke. You looked around to see that you had been bandaged up along your left side, an IV attached to your arm sat close by. You attempted to sit up, whining when the pain wouldn't allow it. Within a few minutes Emily entered, her face showing relief.

"You're up! How are you feeling?" She checked the IV before sitting on the edge of the bed, careful of your body.

"Sore...where's, where's Paul?" Your heart ached as you started to replay what happened. There was no doubt in your mind what happened was an accident. You had seen the signs he always warned you about, and chose to ignore them in the heat of the argument. Not only that, but the look on his face when you had refused him was too much to bare.

Emily smiled, not expecting you to want to see him so soon.

"He's just outside the door. Hasn't moved. He didn't know if you'd want to see him..."

"I need to talk to him."

It hadn't even been a few seconds when Paul stood at the door. He looked more out of shape than you did. The disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn't slept in days.

"I'll give you two some space. Just holler if you need anything," Emily spoke as she stood up, making her way around him and down the stairs.

Paul remained where he stood,

"If you don't want to be with me I understand. I have no words for my actions other than I am so...." he cleared his throat, trying not to cry. "So incredibly sorry I put you through this. I put you in danger when I was trying to keep you out of it. You don't have to stay I-"

"Paul please just kiss me." You interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest as you already made up your mind in forgiving him.

He stood for just a moment longer, trying to comprehend if he heard you correctly. It was when you weakly opened your arms for him that he wasted no time in rushing over to you, cupping your face and gently yet passionately kissed you with everything he had. Tears flowed his cheeks at the relief that you still wanted him. Even after everything he had put you through.

You two pulled back for air after a moment, and you ran your hand through his hair.

"I forgive you, okay? I can't imagine my life without you."

He let out a breath, smiling for the first time in weeks.

"It will never happen again. I swear on my fucking life baby." He caressed your hair, neck, landing his palm on your heart.

You two sat like that for awhile. Almost scared to leave each other's presence. You two talked for hours on the bed. Paul had confessed that the night before, while you were sleeping, the pack had fought with the Cullens. You learned that Paul refused to go, not wanting to leave your side. You were grateful to hear that Sam didn't push on him being there, knowing you were all that mattered to him, and he'd refuse him if he had too. Even if it went against his every instinct as a wolf. Turns out that Jacob had imprinted on your niece, and Bella had survived, now as a vampire.

You weren't particularly thrilled your sister was now a bloodsucker, but as long as she was alive, you were happy.

Paul eventually made his way to the other side of the bed, kissing every exposed inch of you, whispering all the things he loved about you in your ear until you fell asleep.

When your heartbeat slowed down and he was sure you were out, he reached down and felt the velvet box in his pocket. No doubt in his mind about the future you both held.

#paul lahote #sam uley #twilight #bella swan #edward cullen #embry call #imagine #jacob black #new moon #quil ateara #fanfic #fanfiction #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x you #emily young #jared cameron #wolfpack #eclipse #breaking dawn #charlie swan #vampire

[kooqitas]

— secret kink ★ with: knj + jjk!

#pairings: friend!jjk X boyfriend!knj X reader

#synopsis: you discover your boyfriend's kink

#tags: pwp, sex, rough sex, threesome, cuckold, cockslut, spanking, spit, vaginal sex, degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, orgasm play, creampie, overstimulation, dacryphilia, oral sex, multiple orgasm

#notes: ok, i need to be honest, this is the most dirty thing i've ever written, but it doesn't deviate much from what's been written here so far… whatever, i hope you like it guys :)

#wc: 3,1k

🌸 . . english isn’t my first language, so be patient :)

“when you gonna told me that you fucked with jungkook?” namjoon, your boyfriend, entered the room while you were still wrapped in a towel after getting out of the shower.

“excuse me?”

“hoseok told me, when we break up a few weeks ago, you and jungkook fucked”

“hoseok is a gossip boy” you mumbled.

“maybe, but when you gonna tell me?”

“when you gonna told me that you fucked with taehyung?” you asked him. 

alright, you and namjoon had a fight last month, it's a bad fight, you broke up for some weeks, you stayed in the apartment but he lived at bts dorm.

but, in those weeks, maybe you two have some... diversion with your friends.

“taehyung and me was a mistake”

“you take jungkook's boyfriend and he took your girlfriend”

“so was it planned?”

“no” snorted. “just happened”

“was good? he ate you well?”

what the fuck was that question? wanting to know whether or not your girlfriend has sex while you were apart is understandable, but what the hell was he asking?

“not better than you”

“anyone fucks you better than me, doll”

you laugh, it's true. you two have a relationship a years ago, of course he knows exactly how and where touch you.

“did he treated you like the whore you are?”

“i don't understand what the point”

“i just wanna know if my girl was fucked good”

“yes, i am! and i know that taehyung too”

silence.

“how many times you cum?”

“really? namjoon, i don't want to fight, i fucked jungkook, you fucked taehyung, it's okay”

“who says that i want to fight?”

you can't understand what the point of this conversation.

“i just wanna know if my baby was treat like the whore he is, if jungkook doing a good job and cum of this pussy”

namjoon laughed, and his laughed sounded like sadism. whos wanna know how your girlfriend was fucked?

unless…

“three years with you, and you never told me that you have cuckold kink”

“im telling u now”

bingo!

the information was a little shocking, right, jungkook and you had always been very close and namjoon never showed a single bit of jealousy, however you always thought it was because of your friendship for years, and the fact that jungkook had a boyfriend.

“so, why don't you call him and ask how he eats me?”

namjoon sit on the sofa, but without any courage to call to your friend.

"what's happening?" you asked when notice the hesitate "are you afraid that your best friend know that you liked that had cum on your girlfriend? are u shammed? ok, i call"

you take the cell and call to jungkook.

“hi, hyung! are u okay?” 

“hey, baby!” you said. “namjoon wanna know how good was fucked me that day”

“oh my god! he’s know? hyung, i’m so sorry, we are so drunk and-”

you laughed.

“i wouldn't apologize if i were you, he's all excited imagining you fucking me. and don't forget that he fucked with your boyfriend, if i were you i'd give as many details as possible…”

on the other end of the line Jungkook was wide-eyed, he always thought that if his friend found out about their night there would be a big fight, but no, there he was in connection with namjoon, who was horny knowing that his girlfriend gave your pussy to another.

jungkook even tried, but he couldn't hold back the smirk that tugged at his lips.

he was still fighting with taehyung, and didn't even intend to make up. of course, jungkook was angry with namjoon because he knew he was also to blame for all this.

so if he wanted to be humiliated, well, he would.

“your girlfriend is a dumb whore, she masturbated in my bathroom, when i opened the door, she was moaning with two fingers inside her, i couldn't control it, i needed to eat her”

namjoon imagines the scene, and his cock wake up

"she moaned so loud in my fingers, god, i wasn't need said too much, she just give her cunt for me at the same time"

you laughed naughty, remembering the scene.

you and jungkook spent a good few minutes talking about how taehyung and namjoon's sex had been, and naturally, with a drink, you were so fucking horny, both of you rubbing your own thigh temptingly to relieve the emotion.

you asked to take a shower, but when you turned on the shower the first thing you did was put your fingers in your wet pussy, you couldn't tell if it was missing namjoon or wanting jungkook, you didn't even think about anything, you just wanted to cum.

it didn't take five minutes for jungkook to enter the bathroom, seeing you with your eyes closed moving your fingers quickly.

he took off his clothes, and sneaked in, hugging you from behind and leaving a kiss on his neck. jungkook was quick to pull your hand and insert his fingers, then brushing his member against your ass, and the pleasant moan you gave only confirmed the consent he knew he had. you didn't hold back in saying that that night he owned you, and that you were desperate for him to open you up with his fat cock.

returning to the present moment, namjoon stroked his own dick while listening to his friend's statement.

“she was so hot, hyung. saying that I owned her, cumming on my fingers, saying that i could do whatever i wanted with her. fuck! i think now i understand why you guys have been together for so long, i would also love to eat that pussy every day.”

jungkook masked silence, namjoon was quiet and this worried jungkook.

“that’s okay, jungkook! he didn’t say anything because was busy touching himself”

so he’s keeped going.

“i took her to bed, hyung. she was so wet even after having cum, i stuck my tongue in her and she moaned even louder, she kept screaming my name for anyone who wanted to hear. my face got all wet, and she got irritated when i didn't let her cum” he laughed. “but i made her cum on my dick, she's a cockslut, she asked me to hit her, to choke her, and every time i cursed her, her pussy squeezed my cock. damn, hyung, now i'm so fucking horny!”

jungkook knew that what he would say next could destroy a friendship of years, it turns out that at the moment his head was clouded by lust and he even thought about friendship.

“hyung, leave me fuck your girlfriend again. so you can watch us and draw your own conclusions”

namjoon took his hand out of his shorts, and you tried to read your boyfriend's face, but you didn't understand anything. was Namjoon nervous? did Jungkook cross the line? was he just excited to hear but not see?

in fact, that was a good question, how far would namjoon's kink go?

whatever, all insecurity fell away when Namjoon moved away from the phone.

“you know my address, and your entry is free at the entrance”

namjoon looked at you and tapped her thigh twice, you immediately understood the message and sent it there, receiving a kiss on the neck and a caress on her breasts.

“'ll lend you to him one more time, but you know that's it, don't you? you are my little toy that i use whenever i want”

you nod, and namjoon opens your mouth spitting into it, you swallow, like the good whore you are.

“he's going to cum in you, but this pussy is mine, okay? and after all, maybe you're tired, but you're mine, and you give your pussy to your owner”

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

after some minutes, the doorbell rang, and namjoon opened the door, of course, jungkook was there. namjoon kissed him, like a 'welcome' put his tongue on jungkook's mouth and grabbed his ass.

"you can do anything, since her want, of course" this is the only thing that namjoon said.

so, this is you now.

sitting on the bed, with your legs opened, just underwear, pinching your own nipple.

they both drooled, the visible stain on the lace panties made them both desperate to open your pussy even more.

but now it was jungkook's turn, so namjoon sat on the couch.

jungkook took off his clothes so quickly, and going to the bed, kissing you when you put the legs on his waist, trying feel something.

"are you always so desperate? in my house, now here, why?” hes bite your lips. “i can fuck this hole open now, you are so wet, fuck, look your leaky cunt, my cock going to feel so good in you… but, i think that your boyfriend want to see i’m playing with you first”

jungkook playing with your tits leans down to start sucking on your nipples, include painful bites every now and then making scream his name when his mark you with purple hickies.

so, jungkook take off your panties, putting on your mouth.

“shut the fuck up, dumb! i even started and you moaned like a pathetic slut.”

he groping your clit, your hole dripping and making a mess, you are so embarrassed, and namjoon watches everything.

and he's like.

so much.

he took advantage of the open legs to stick his face there, running his tongue slowly over your folds, giving a light bite to the clitoris that made you scream in pain and then pull jungkook's hair.

“if you touch me one more time, i will ruin you”

you took off yours hands grabbing the sheet when his eat your in a brutal way, you can feel your tongue your lips, your nose, even you chin, every part of jungkook's face on your pussy.

namjoon appreciated that, took off your underwear, releasing your dick, your massive purple dick with precum.

when jungkook bite your clit, you pulled his hair.

and you receive a slap.

“disgusting whore, you can't do what i'm say? i don't need that your hole, i can fuck others, you are not special! so do what i'm say or i’m gonna away!”

without warning, jungkook puts two fingers inside you, take your underwear of ou mouth just for listen your scream due to agressiveness that you are fucked. you tried close your legs, not because you don't wanna it, but because was too much, soo good, but jungkook did not let.

“if you cum now, you it will end with fun, please, don’t be a useless slut”

and he's continuous. you moaning so loud every time his fingers is in and out of you. 

namjoon looking everything with a devocion.

“two fingers are enough to break your tiny cunt? god, can you imagine how will it be with my fat cock?”

so you cum… without permission.

and jungkook hit in your face, squeezing your neck.

“disgusting whore, i told you to not cum”

he pinch your clit.

and you scream.

and he do again, and again, and again.

jungkook grabbed your hair and got you out of bed, on your knees

“you can cum on my mouth?” you asked when he took de underwear.

“in your face, bitches like you deserves this”

you smiled, and jungkook's response was a spit in your face.

“you know, two slaps in my thigh and i stop” you agreed.

he waste no time fucking and shooting their hot precum down your throat.

due to the rudeness, tears started to flow from your eyes, but that would never be a bad thing, you were just making the most of jungkook.

namjoon moaned so loud when u gasp on jungkook dick, and that's when you realized that namjoon was masturbating.

“this is the best you can do? poor namjoon, pathetic mouth”

jungkook pushes your head so that your nose touches his pelvis, and holds you there, until you cough.

“cum on her face, jungkook, dirty this slut!”

jungkook moaned before your cock spit sperm on your face, the cum spills out around the cock in your face, some leaking down onto your tits.

it was divine.

“doggy style, whore, i want to fuck you like my pathetic puppy”

jungkook slapped you, and then another, and another, and another.

your ass burned and so did jungkook's hand, but he would continue hitting until he got tired, after all, at that moment you were his, and he had permission to use you as desired.

your pussy dripped onto the bed. jungkook laughed, and then positioned himself behind you, rubbing his cock against your swollen clit, whereupon he pushed you further onto the bed, so that his chest was touching the mattress and your ass was in the air.

once fully sheathed, the jungkooks cock widens your pussy open, pulls all the way out and slams all the way back in.

jungkook thrust so hard that the shock of his hips hurt, but you like it, namjoon and jungkook too.

namjoon increased the speed of his masturbation, still being careful not to cum, he didn't want to cum like that.

you really want the cock of your boyfriend in you too now, in your mouth, asshole, whatever, you just need both of them fuck you, and you made a mental note for this.

“that shitty pussy of yours can handle anything, right? i bet i can fit my balls inside you too”

jungkook starts brutally rubbing your engorged clit, you throw your head back, drool slipping past in the sheet.

“fleet wide pussy, you can take the cock of your boyfriend here too, maybe we can gonna try this some day”

it was pathetic the way you moaned “yes, please”

he laughed, gripped your hips so hard you’re sure there’ll be bruises, your titties flop brushing on the sheet with each thrust. soo good, so messy.

“who owns you?” jungkook asked.

“n-namjoon!”

namjoon watched everything mesmerized, he had already read reports about cuckolding, he knew it was fun to watch, he just didn't expect it to be so much. he didn't even want to go in there, he just wanted to watch his girlfriend being destroyed by his best friend.

that was enough.

“you're a whore who has an owner but loves cumming on someone else's dick. disgusting bitch.” he continued thrusting without any shame. “tell me what you are”

“a w-whore”

“exactly, a whore that acepts everything since you hole is full. is your owner enjoying watching this? this disgusting show you're putting on?”

“h-hes lik-kes”

“we’ll see”

jungkook pulled himself out of you and by your hair for what must have been the hundredth time that night, you didn't quite understand what he wanted but you just followed him.

you were dragged to the armchair where his boyfriend was, and in a single movement jungkook made his body fall onto namjoon's.

and there you were: holding on to your boyfriend's shoulder while prancing towards another.

he entered again, mercilessly punching his dick into the slut who was his at that moment.

you held Namjoon's shoulder, he felt like his dick could explode because of how horny he was.

jungkook pulled your hair hard again, forcing you to face namjoon.

“say to your boyfriend how much you like this”

jungkook still brutally rubbing your engorged clit, making you lose the conscience with the pleasure.

“namjonnie… s-so go-good”

you cried, lost in your own excitement, you didn't even care how deplorable you looked at the moment.

“good, sweetheart?” namjoon said, taking his hand off his dick and just enjoying his girfriend's body folded over his while jungkook fucked her. “what are you, my dear?”

“a wh-whore, desperate for coc- jungkook i’m gon-gonna cu-”

“cum, whore, but i won’t stop fuck this hole still i’m cum in you’’

“i'll like it more when i see your cum dripping from her pussy. and i'm sure she does too, right, baby? says what you want” your boyfriend said.

“jungkooks cum”

“where do you want? be more specific, princess” namjoon spoke docilely, but the lust in his speech was clear.

“in m-my pus-sy, for you will ea-eat l-ater!

“cum, doll, i want to see you cum for us”

"doll" jungkook laughed. “cum, whore, and enjoy me filling you with cum”

you scream, cumming on jungkook’s cock.

your legs are shaking and if it weren't for jungkook's strength you wouldn't even be able to stand.

but luckily, jungkook was strong, and not only did he hold you back, but he continued fucking you roughly.

“i'm going to fill this pussy so much that it's going to overflow on your boyfriend's cock”

“j-jungkook” you moaned, feeling your cunt fluttering on his dick.

“i'm going to gaping this pussy, when your boyfriend goes to fuck her, it will be completely wide by me”

you couldn't stand anymore, and that's when namjoon got up to help hold you down, while jungkook continued fucking you like crazy.

“behave” your boyfriend told you.

“now watch me fill this hole open” jungkook said before cum.

still with his leg wobbly, jungkook left you, sitting on the couch.

namjoon didn't say anything, he just lifted you on his lap and fitted your pussy onto his dick. tears ran down your face and your mouth didn't even close, moans and more moans were made as you clung to your boyfriend's neck as you were pushed against his thick cock.

“are you what?”

you knew the weight of this question, if you answered something profane, namjoon would continue fucking you without any mercy, but if you said you was just his princess he would go slowly. after all, that was your dynamic, pleasure is good, but safety comes first.

“your whore!”

namjoon didn't respond, he just threw you on the bed, bending your legs leaving you in an almost fetal position.

eh started thrusting again and at that point jungkook's cum squirted onto his member, and damn, that was so exciting.

the large body collided against you and moaned more and more and was driving them both crazy.

you came on your boyfriend’s cock, shaking in a way namjoon had never seen before.

you had reached the peak, it was clear.

so namjoon removed himself from inside you as quickly as possible, respecting your limit, and called his friend.

"come on, jungkook, cum in her one more time"

namjoon arranged his legs, leaving them wide open.

and started masturbating, soon Jungkook joined him.

they masturbated their members quickly, until jets of cum came out and fell towards your pussy, which was already full of cum.

even though you were tired, you took two fingers there, smearing them and then putting them in your mouth.

you were exhausted.

and you have plans for the next time…

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts smut #bts #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #jk #jk x reader #bts jk #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you #namkook #namkook x you #smut bts #★... lulli writes