#and only some of it ever got referenced

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[hrtzbeat]

to the tumblrinas who like caleb pls tell me why

[juniperhillpatient]

continuously wondering if the friends I share original writing with will notice or pick up on little details or if / when little things will click is so fun 🤭

[7frogsspeaks]

If you've never worked in a big corporate office you are missing out on half of Severance

Everyone seems to be talking about the setting of this show like it's a big mystery we're waiting on answers for, and I keep having to remind myself that this is the Unemployed Website because every single aspect of the severed floor is a direct parody of corporate office work. Some of it is pretty obvious to anyone (being a totally different person at work than you are at home, excessive surveillance, etc), but unless you've worked in one of these places there's a ton you're probably missing.

So, for those of you who (luckily) lack corporate office experience, here is a non-exhaustive list of real phenomenon Severence is referencing:

- Having absolutely no clue where anything is other than your department. A large corporate office truly feels like working in a brightly-lit, featureless labyrinth. You get lost so easily, and the number of turns and hallways in the opening scene is not that much more extreme than how I had to get to my department (which was over a 5-minute walk from the main entrance). It's common to draw new employees a map.

- Cult-like worship and constant quoting of the company's founder/founding family and core operating principles. Long-time employees will genuinely treat it like religious doctrine. It's scary.

- The relationship between departments. The different cultures, outrageous rumors, distrust, compete lack of understanding of who they are, how many of them there are, where they work, what they do, and generally treating them like a foreign country is barely even a parody. It's just really like that. Going to another department and seeing their equipment and work area (and being stared at by a bunch of people who don't expect a stranger to be there) might as well be walking into a room that's a hill with intimidating goat farmers.

- Other people's jobs being utterly incomprehensible. The department that had a room behind a wall next to mine apparently used it for filling backpacks with weights until the straps broke. Another department had someone whose job was to shine different lights onto pieces of fabric and record the color difference. One of my positions was measuring various pants 20 different ways and then taking notes while a specific person tried them on. Apparently a guy somewhere occasionally got paid to make watercolors of birds. Some people did finance. You get the idea.

- Only ever hearing from upper management (who are treated like a group of fickle, wrathful gods) through a nervous secretary and never hearing their voices/seeing their faces. You might know their names.

- Weird, uncomfortable, often ritualesque events that are treated like a big deal. The company I worked for, for example, would announce the employees of the year by having a committee of people with noisemakers and silly hats parade around the buildings until they got to the person's desk, and then take their photo to hang on the wall. People were not warned beforehand, it was a ~surprise~. This happened daily at random times for over a week each year, and long-standing employees got really into it.

- People genuinely fighting over all those meaningless, patronizing rewards like pizza parties, fancy pens, etc. Having an "employee of the month" mug, for example, is treated as an enviable status symbol. Presumably this is why corporations think this stuff will also work in the service industry (it doesn't because service workers are normal).

- Ridiculous conspiracy theories about the building, management, coworkers, or company history, peddled like gossip.

- New employees having a rough adjustment period where it feels like you're adapting to an alternate universe. Office culture is nothing like real life though it's closer if you live in white suburbia and have an HOA, so during most people's first time working in one they bump up against a lot of unspoken rules, weird taboos, and general culture shock. Most of this involves navigating strictly-enforced social hierarchies, verbal adherence to company ideals, and using only specific types of communication, and being chastised when you mess up. It 100% feels like being indoctrinated into a cult.

- Not understanding the purpose of the work you're doing, and only receiving vague answers, that it's "important", and that there's a big exciting deadline. No single department has access to the big picture for how everyone's jobs fit together to accomplish something, you'd have to work in all of them or in upper management to figure it out. The inner machinations and goals of the company are generally treated like a mysterious secret.

- Never seeing the sky. Window offices are a prized commodity since the buildings are so big, so unless you're a high-up manager or the company has gone to great lengths to add access to widows (most don't because it's really expensive) you likely won't see daylight until you leave, even if you travel around the building during the day.

And for the Lifetime Unemployment crowd, some more general job phenomenon:

- So. Many. Acronyms. And being expected to say them all with a straight face, even if they sound really silly.

- Coworkers effectively ceasing to exist the moment they leave the company, with zero explanation given for why they're suddenly gone unless there's a retirement party.

- Management giving ridiculously nit-picky feedback as a form of hazing/power play, especially to marginalized people.

- Upper management making sudden, drastic changes to your job expectations, physical workplace, or management structure with zero notice and penalizing you if you can't adapt immediately.

- The entire vibe of your job being dictated by who your manager is.

- Your coworkers acting like what happens at work is their entire life, and treating their home lives as something extra they do on the side.

- Having no clue who your coworkers are outside of work, and that information being largely treated as taboo.

- Being effectively locked in a sealed space with zero access to the outside world for the entirety of your workday, and being told that that's not weird or a problem– it's a benefit that helps you focus on your job.

Basically: There's no big mystery to the structure and culture of Lumon/the severed floor. Most of it is never going to get a canon "explanation" because the target audience already has one. It's all a parody.

EDIT: Reblogged with more office-specific ones and some photo evidence

[sossolei]

things that have helped me shift ⊹₊⟡⋆

DISCLAIMER, Just because I have shifted before doesn’t mean I am the Library of Alexandria. I’m a person just like you, learning as I go so I don’t have the answer to everything but I do try! I’m also not saying any of this will absolutely, 100% make you shift, but hopefully it can provide some perspective or insight into something you hadn’t thought about! !!! ANTIS DNI !!!

LANGUAGE — I’ve noticed since I first got into shifting that shifters will talk about/treat these realities like fanfiction or a role playing kinda thing??? It confused me before I had shifted because if this is real then why are people talking about themselves in the third person, or referring to others as “npc/non main characters”, or scripting in some crazy trauma for “fun”??? If you read anything of mine, you will notice I do not use words like “main character” or even “desired reality” because for me personally, it’s just reinforcing in my mind that this is not something that’s real or even close to something I can achieve.

Cut out third person language entirely. Stop referring to your “failed shifting attempts” as such, in fact, stop referencing it AT ALL. Stop keeping track. Stop referring to people in these realities as “main characters” or “npcs.” Stop coming back from an attempt thinking “damn I didn’t shift.”

INSTEAD, start saying that you shifted every time you attempt. “But I woke up in my O.R” who says? only you have a say in whatever reality you want to live in. Fake it til you make it. Start talking about people as they are, people. Use their names or nicknames. Watch a TikTok and think to yourself “yeah I’d send this to them.” FEEELLLLL IT. MAKE IT REAL TO YOUUUU.

LOGIC — After successfully shifting, I don’t tend to think about the “science” or “spiritual” side anymore BUT this is the logic that makes the most sense to me and is the simplest explanation I can think of. When you wake up in the morning, do you first check your phone or stand up to brush your teeth or stretch? Whatever path you choose is a shift in your reality. Every single choice you’ve ever made is a shift in your reality. As far as you know, if you checked your phone instead of stretching, you might pull something later on in the day that you wouldn’t have pulled had you stretched. But you didn’t. And now there’s a reality where you stretched, did the exact things, and didn’t pull a muscle because you stretched that morning.

THAT is reality shifting in its simplest form.

Manifesting can even be considered reality shifting because you’re shifting your current consciousness into one that is receiving said manifestion. The universe is infinite. Do not let the constrictions of others constrain you too.

“Yeah you can shift realities but not to those fantasy places like hogwarts, that’s not possible” why not? If you’ve just admitted can shift realities, why are “fantasy” realities so different to you? Because HERE in THIS reality, they are fantasy. In that reality, it is everyday, it is normal, it’s just another Tuesday. Shifting is simply becoming aware of your consciousness in another reality, similar to switching characters in video game like The Sims 4, from one plumbob to another and yes, that easy.

MEDITATION — You don’t need anything to shift realistically, but the one thing I recommend for anything is meditating. It’s a skill and, like any other, one that can be refined and perfected over time. Learning to get into a state of pure consciousness is a practice that existed for centuries, anybody can do it and doing it will only ever benefit you. You can meditate when you wake up, before you fall asleep, when you’re sitting up, WHENEVER! I’ve always felt better after a meditation, shifting related or not. It also helps me feel better when I don’t end up shifting because at least I’ve honed in and practiced that meditation technique, yk? Positives in everything!

OTHER PRACTICES — If nothing else, I recommend trying different spiritual practices and adding a lil sprinkle of shifting in there! This applies to religion as well in case that isn’t clear lol. If you don’t follow any specific spiritual practice, try pegan spell work (with protection and research ofc), research any herbs that aid in things like enhancing spiritual energy. If you pray to a God, you can “work” with your God in a sense to aid you in this personal journey, whether that be through journaling or actual prayer, prayer is an amazing manifestion technique and I do believe it can help with reality shifting considering it’s not against any religions. And if you don’t want to do any of this, come up with something for you and you only! A ritual can be anything you make it. You decide what works for you at the end of the day.

REMOVAL — This helped me the most in my opinion, I completely stepped away from online communities doing anything with reality shifting ( specifically shifttok ) and followed my own intuition of how to go about shifting, doing shadow work to figure out any blockages/questions I had, and just overall made shifting fun again for myself! The main thing I did was learn more about manifesting because the manifestion community does NOT play, they do not believe in limitations and they love LOA(ssumption) which is my fav so!

LUCID DREAMING — Not the actual act of lucid dreaming but learning about lucid dreaming and astral projection really makes you understand that anti shifters are so ignorant to what these things actually are it’s insane! People didn’t even believe that you could control your dreams 10-20 years ago, they genuinely thought dreams were just something that happens to you. Nowadays, we obviously know that you can control your dreams but this is just proof that nobody knows what they’re talking about fr. I guarantee you, a few years from now, people are gonna be talking about reality shifting the same way they talk about lucid dreaming, CASUALLY. Reality shifting is not some big thing of grandeur that only “special” people can do, the same way everyone can lucid dream, is the same way everyone can reality shift, and astral project.

All this is to say, stop fucking listening to other people LMAOOO. That’s gonna be my advice every single time because too much of anything will become a problem. Advice is good when you’re starting out and I don’t mind giving advice on that, but nobody knows you better than you know yourself, even if you don’t think you know what to do, I PROMISE you on everything, you know what’s best for you. You know what works, and you know what doesn’t, YOU KNOW. Believe yourself. Nobody else matters.

“you are the light. it’s not on you, it’s in you. don’t you ever in your motherfucking

life dim your light for nobody.”

[no-144444]

who's he?- l.norris

summary: you've always been more famous, but now jack whitehall has decided to address it

pairing: lando norris x fem! moviestar! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You sat beside Lando, giggling beside him as the night went on, awkward and long. F175 was a good idea on paper, but it was also the most hunger games-esque things you’d ever seen, and every single person there could feel the awkward and uncomfortable air in the room. 

He reached over and grabbed your hand to play with while Jack Whitehall made his way through the tables as the Williams car was revealed. 

“You alright?” you asked, leaning in to him. 

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “All good.”

He was doing great. 2024 had been the hardest season of his life, and he genuinely couldn’t have done it without you. Every time he came home and saw you there, taking time out of your own busy schedule to make him feel better, it meant the world to him. He was eternally grateful. 

Jack pulled up a chair beside the two of you, getting ready for the interview. “Evening guys,” he smiled, settling in beside you. The Williams reveal was over, the lights came up again, and the camera was turned to Lando, Jack and you. 

“Give it up for my main man James Vowels!” There was a break for cheering. “Now, there is only one person I want to talk to tonight,” he announced into the microphone and the crowd went wild. They thought he meant Lando. “Y/n Y/l/n!” 

The stadium erupted in laughter as Lando got cut out of the camera angle, zoning in on your and Jack. Beside you, Lando was laughing harder than anyone, squeezing your hand as he giggled uncontrollably. You were pretty famous, being a huge movie star. At the beginning of your relationship back in 2021, everyone was a bit confused on why you’d picked him, since F1 wasn’t huge back then. Ever since then there’s always been jokes about how he’s less relevant than you, or less famous, etc. Honestly, you find them hilarious.

“Y/n, how are you feeling about tonight, have you ever seen anything like this?” he asked.

“No, I have not,” you smiled, trying to hold in your own laughter. 

“How does it compare to the Oscars?” 

“There’s usually less drummers, for sure,” you joked and the crowd laughed. “But yes, I am very excited to be here.” 

“Do you think Lando’s taking it away this year?” 

You turned to Lando and he smirked, shaking his head. “I hope so,” you shrugged, turning back to Jack. 

“I won’t be famous enough if I don’t,” Lando added, giggling into the microphone. 

“Mate let’s be honest you were never famous enough for her,” Jack teased. “I hope you win this year for your sake,” both you and Lando were uncontrollably laughing now. “So, how was your break? Got a chance to Netflix and Chill?” 

A boom mic was lowered into your face. 

“We did, y’know,” Lando nodded, pushing the boom away. “Wankers.” 

“Please do not curse Lando,” Jack chuckled. 

“That's not a curse word,” he smiled cheekily. “But yeah, we had a nice break. We spent some time with our families and friends, and we went to see Daniel in Perth as well, which was great.”

“You and Daniel are quite close, aren’t you Y/n?” he mused. 

“Yeah, I’ve worked with his partner a lot before, so we’re pretty close.”

“And he introduced us,” Lando added and you nodded. 

“Wow! Daniel Riccardo the match-maker, will he be officiating at your wedding?” Jack asked, referencing the fact that there were a lot of engagement rumours over the break for the two of you. 

You looked down at your hand confused then held it up for the cameras, showing no engagement ring on your finger, then looking at Lando confused, who giggled. 

“It’s on my to-do list, alright?” he chuckled. 

“Better be soon, or else you’ll be too irrelevant to marry her,” Jack joked. “And now, we have the wonderful Kane Brown, give it up!” 

The cameras turned to the singer, and Lando smiled at you. 

“It’s a good idea,” he whispered. “Asking Daniel.” 

“I don’t see a ring on my finger, Norris,” you pointed out again. 

“Soon,” he nodded, sincerity in his eyes. “So soon.”

“I'll believe it when I see it,” you chuckled, but you knew he was serious.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[soapcloth]

CW: ghost/referenced ghoap x reader, slight angst, possessive behaviour - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Being the one to pick up Soap’s wardrobe from a secondhand store— the donation so fresh that the scent hadn’t even had the chance to fade and mingle with the rest of the shop. You’re wearing a dead man’s hoodie and you haven’t got the faintest clue.

You like his overbearingly rugged smell; find yourself lifting up the collar to inhale and wonder what the person who donated it is like. The hoodie is emblazoned with a name— maybe he’ll see you on the street one day in his old clothes and use it as an ice breaker. The thought is nice. You don’t even know.

Soap was a man who liked personlized items; a taste for things that were one of a kind— just like him. Everything he touched had been marked by a man living a full life and was wholly unmistakable to the discerning eye of the shadow who knew him inside out.

So why was ghost, absolutely swamped in grief, forced to see an interloper wearing his boy’s clothes? He just wanted a fucking coffee.

Johnny’s official family funeral had been no more than a month ago and there was already a stranger wearing his stuff. If ghost had the privilege to grab that box of Johnny’s items and run, it would be neatly tucked away in his closet, silently cherished. Not hanging off the frame of some random civilian who could never even begin to fathom the depths of a man like John MacTavish.

It must’ve been the world playing a sick joke on him that you, who didn’t even know the man, would be able to collect Johnny’s stuff before him. Never allowed anything.

Suffice to say, he’s pissed when he spots you. Stands a bit too close to you so Johnny’s scent can catch in his nose. You’re clearly nervous, but manage to smile hopefully when he makes an offhanded comment about liking the garment. You probably think they’re his clothes, don’t you?

Well, for all intents and purposes, they are.

You ask if he’s ‘MacTavish’ and something in him wants to scream at you that the world hated him far too much for that to ever happen— instead he just nods, leering at how happy that makes you. He can’t tell if your response lights up his brain because he wants to bite your head clean off— or because somewhere, deep inside him, seeing someone so excited about ‘finding’ Johnny is nice.

He hatches a plan. Knead away at your apprehension towards his intimidating appearance, bag a quick fuck— god knows he needs one, grab the clothes, and disappear from your life with Johnny’s items finally where they belong. It’s perfect.

Well, it’s perfect until an unavoidable, nagging voice starts to rattle around in the back of his skull that Johnny would have been absolutely smitten with you. You might have been one last parting gift sent from his boy, how could he ever turn that down? The thought of fucking you in Johnny’s clothes, being able to nudge his crooked nose into the fabric and chase the scent that’s starting to entangle with your own— it sends him reeling

Johnny would be so pleased if the scent of their sweet lamb caught. Can vividly picture him absolutely beaming while huffing at the clothes before urging ghost to take a sniff for himself.

He latches onto the notion that maybe, just maybe he could tuck you and the clothes away somewhere safe for his eyes only— teeth already sunken deeper into you than he could ever possibly imagine by the point he finally acknowledges the gnawing revelation.

Johnny would want this for the both of you. This time he’d keep you safe.

[witchywithwhiskey]

only man allowed

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're feeling particularly needy one night, but when you text your situationship to come over, he reminds you that he won't wear a condom, which is a problem since it's a risky time of the month for you. but you tell him to come over anyway.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), consensual non-consent and consensual sexual coercion, sexual roleplay, 'just the tip' trope, breeding kink, bdsm elements, some biting and marking, some dacryphilia, some pain play, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, multiple orgasms, aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 8.5k

a/n: listen, i definitely wrote this at a certain time of the month and i'm not going to apologize for it!!! what i will apologize for is the fact that this ended up being way longer than i expected!! i wanted these to be short little fics, but apparently toxic bucky won't let me keep things short 🤭 anyway, this was fun to write and i hope y'all enjoy it!! ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

You missing me, baby?

You could perfectly imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ stupidly handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye as he asked you that question in response to the picture you’d sent. It was a hastily taken photo of your body clad only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts, your fingers pulling up the hem to show a pair of panties—the ones that had made him groan like he was being tortured when he’d first seen them. 

The truth was, you were missing him. You were horny as fuck and you didn’t care if he knew it—which, you were certain he did, because you only ever sent him lewd photos of yourself when you wanted him—but would it kill Bucky to show a little bit of reciprocity, instead of sending you that teasing response?

It didn’t matter that his playfully cocky words only drove your need higher, your body warming as heat flooded between your thighs. You were missing Bucky’s brand of arrogance, and it was all you could think about, the deep rasp of his voice in your ear while he pounded into you, the dirty and depraved things he’d say as his cock slid into your pussy, stretching you out just the way you needed.

You knew, without even touching yourself, that neither your fingers nor your toys would be enough for you that evening. You needed Bucky. Not John Walker, not any of the other guys on your roster—only Bucky Barnes could satisfy the need burning through your body.

So you rolled onto your knees and lowered your upper body to your bed, arching your ass high in the air. You positioned your phone and took a photo of your curved ass, barely clad in your panties, with the TV on your dresser also in frame. You took photos until you got one that you liked well enough and sent it to Bucky.

I’m bored, come chill.

Your text deliberately didn’t acknowledge Bucky’s question—and you weren’t asking him to come over, you were demanding it. You refused to beg a guy like Bucky Barnes, who refused to be exclusive with you, to come over and fuck you. 

But you knew the simple request would drag him away from whatever he was doing on that Saturday evening and get him to your apartment.

So you were surprised when he texted back and didn’t immediately say he was on his way.

You sure? If we end up fucking, I’m not wearing a condom.

The second you finished reading Bucky’s text, you shoved your face into one of your pillows and let out a frustrated groan. Of course Bucky hadn’t forgotten you were in the process of switching to a new birth control and you’d told him that if he was going to fuck you, he’d have to wear a condom.

He’d taken it better than you expected—especially for a guy who claimed sex with you “didn’t feel as good” when he wore a condom. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum or tried to talk you into fucking bare while it was unsafe. He’d seemed happy enough with handjobs and blowjobs, and had always reciprocated by getting you off with his fingers or mouth.

But you could tell from his text that he was reaching his limit and, truthfully, so were you. 

You missed the feeling of Bucky’s bare cock sliding into you, the heat of his stiff length and the drag of his veins against your sensitive inner walls. You were desperate to feel his cum flooding your cunt, filling you up with his seed while his balls twitched against your ass or clit, and he groaned low and deep in your ear. 

Bucky was the only man on your roster allowed to fuck you bare, and it was entirely contingent on him swearing on his mother’s grave that you were the only girl he fucked without a condom. As far as you knew, Bucky had kept his promise—which you knew because you made him get tested at the local clinic at least once a month. 

Still, you were only four weeks in to the 4-6 week period where your doctor had told you to use secondary methods of birth control while you were switching prescriptions. And you were so horny that you were probably ovulating—but you wanted Bucky so bad you could barely think. 

In fact, the thought of letting Bucky cum inside you when it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and was extra not safe because you were switching your birth control, turned you on so much, your whole body shivered with need. Something about the idea, how risky it was, how it might mean Bucky would knock you up, was too good to be ignored. 

You were so horny, you were seconds away from shoving a pillow between your thighs simply so you’d have something to hump against. That probably should’ve been a sign that you weren’t thinking clearly, but instead, it had you making up your mind.

You decided having Bucky over—having him fuck you raw—was worth the risk. In a brief moment of clarity, you reasoned with yourself that there was always the morning after pill. That was good enough for you.

So you texted him back.

I’m sure.

Bucky showed up to your apartment so soon after you texted him that you were sure that he either broke a number of traffic laws driving over from wherever he’d been, or he’d already been on his way. You loved both ideas, and didn’t want him to give you another reason, so you opted not to ask.

But for how fast he’d gotten to your place, he seemed content to take his time getting to the main event. When you opened the door, you’d been expecting (or, rather, hoping) he’d pounce on you. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and gave you a brief, chaste kiss, asking how your week was and how you’d been since he last saw you.

Then, as you entertained his desire for small talk, Bucky made himself comfortable, stretching out on your bed after kicking off his shoes and beckoning you to curl up with him. You did so, a little warily, and even put on a show you’d seen a million times since you figured Bucky would distract you from it soon enough. 

But he didn’t. 

You lasted all of five minutes before you were lifting your head from Bucky’s chest to look at him, surprised to find the guy you’d texted to come over and fuck you was seemingly engrossed in your show. You whined his name in a pitiful voice, “Bucky.” 

The arrogant smirk you’d pictured when he’d texted you earlier spread across his face and he squeezed you tighter in his hard, muscled arms. 

“Shhh, baby, watch your show,” he rumbled, rolling you onto your back so he was curled around your side, throwing a leg over yours and burying his scruffy face in your neck. “I’m just here to chill, right?” There was a teasing note in his voice that had you huffing out a frustrated sound.

“Bucky…” you grumbled, even as you shifted your head on your pillows to give him easier access to your neck. He rewarded you by kissing your soft skin, sending a tendril of heat curling down your spine and settling heavily between your thighs. “You know this isn’t what I meant when I told you to come over.” 

Bucky lifted himself up onto his forearm, hovering above you so he could stare down into your eyes. His arrogant smirk had slipped off his face, leaving a serious expression as he took in the pinched, frustrated look on yours. He seemed to come to some kind of decision as he stared at you.

“It’s not a safe time for you, right, baby?” he asked, each word said slowly, intentionally, another meaning laced within. “You don’t want me to tell you that I’m horny as fuck and the only thing I want is to bury my bare cock in you and cum in your unprotected pussy—you don’t want me to try to talk you into it, to coerce you, right, baby?”

At his filthy words, your heart thundered in your chest and your pulse thrummed between your thighs, and for a brief, blistering moment, you considered throwing a whole entire hissy fit because that’s not what you wanted. You wanted the opposite of what Bucky was saying—and then the deeper meaning in his words hit you. 

Bucky wasn’t really asking if you wanted him to be nice and respectful of the boundaries you’d set, even though you’d already essentially given him permission to ignore them. He was asking if you wanted to play along with the idea that you were reluctant to let him fuck you without a condom while you were at risk of getting knocked up.

“That’s not what you want, is it, baby?” Bucky rumbled, his gaze holding yours as he nodded his head slowly, the gesture so at odds with his words, it could only mean he was asking you the opposite of what he said.

You’d been eager for Bucky to fuck you—you were so horny, it was the only thing you could think about—but the opportunity of playing this game with him was too enticing to pass up. Pretending to be reluctant, pretending to slowly give in to Bucky’s whims when it was what you both really wanted, would only make the sex that much hotter. 

An excited smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you saw Bucky’s gaze drop to your lips, his own face flickering with elation as he took in your reaction. You waited until his eyes returned to yours before you answered him.

“Noooo, that’s definitely not what I want, daddy,” you whimpered huskily, the barest hint of sarcasm in your tone as you struggled to stop from smirking. Your head was nodding just as Bucky’s had, and he was the first to break, an eager grin spreading across his face. 

He ducked down and brushed another frustratingly brief kiss to your lips. “You got it, baby, no fucking tonight—just chilling,” he murmured, a teasing tone in his voice that had your body tingling with anticipation.

You were less surprised that time when Bucky snuggled back down on top of you, his mouth going back to your neck where he was working on sucking a hickey into the side of your throat.

Since you knew the game you were playing, it was a little easier to settle in and watch your show, all the while trying to forget the way your pussy was pulsing with need. Still, you wouldn’t have said it was easy to ignore the steady twitching of Bucky’s cock against your thigh as he hardened in his sweatpants.

It only got more difficult to keep your attention on your show when Bucky’s hand slid under your shirt, his fingers trailing idly over your stomach until he eventually reached your tits. He began kneading your soft flesh lazily, his fingers plucking teasingly at your nipples, while his mouth sucked on your neck. 

Despite how obvious it was that Bucky was taking his time, it wasn’t long before you were a wet, whimpering mess beneath him.

“Bucky, w-we shouldn’t fool around,” you murmured breathily, mouth tripping over the words as you voiced the exact opposite of what you wanted. It was like your lips didn’t want to play the game you’d started, but you were rewarded for their effort by his frustrated growl, which had you throbbing between your thighs.

“It’s fine, baby, we’re not doing anything we shouldn’t…” he rumbled against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin and making you shiver. 

The word “yet” hung unspoken in what little space there was between your bodies, and the promise of it had you warming even more, pressing your thighs together against the ache pulsing in your core. “Bucky,” you whimpered his name, your hips twisting toward him like they had a mind of their own.

“Are ya getting wet, baby?” he asked teasingly in your ear, his fingers tripping down your body until they skimmed along the hem of your panties. All you could do was whine in response and Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I bet you’re dripping for me.”

Your chest was already heaving with heavier breaths just from the way Bucky was teasing his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, taking his sweet time going any lower to where you really needed him. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, and your intention had been to shove his hand deeper into your panties so he’d finally touch your pussy, but instead he stopped.

“Don’t worry, baby, ‘m not gonna fuck you, no matter how wet your pretty little pussy is,” Bucky murmured in your ear, brushing a kiss to your cheek. 

Though his words might’ve sounded reassuring, his tone was a deliciously teasing rumble and you could feel his smirk against your cheek. Your body trembled, your thighs parting for Bucky of their own accord, which had him humming a pleased sound. 

“Good girl, just let me feel you.”

Bucky’s fingers finally dipped into your panties and slid down to your pussy, a breathy little moan bursting from your lips. The feel of his warm, skilled fingers slipping through your soaking wet folds, bumping against your clit before swirling around your aching, clenching hole, was almost too much. 

You had to bite your lip against the urge to beg Bucky to fuck you already, not wanting to ruin the game that was making everything hotter. But he seemed to lose himself for a moment, burying his face in your neck and groaning while his fingers slipped between your swollen and soppy lower lips.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re drenched for me,” Bucky growled, his voice low and no longer teasing. His fingers were dipping shallowly into your hole and spreading your wetness around, making a mess of your pussy. “You feel so fucking ripe, I gotta feel it—gotta feel you against my cock.”

Bucky was already pushing your panties down your thighs, rising above you and tearing his shirt off over his head before tugging your own shirt from your body. 

At the same time, you were kicking your panties from around your ankles and spreading your legs, sitting up shove at the waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants. When his cock bounced free, you reached for his perfect length, saliva already pooling in your mouth as you gave his girth a reverent stroke.

But then Bucky was urging you back down, guiding your shoulders to the bed and covering your body with his own. You arched up into his warmth while he settled between your thighs, your fingers clinging to his sides.

His darkened eyes were fixed on the juncture of your legs, his fingers going back to playing through your wetness and spreading it around to make a mess of your pussy. Occasionally, he’d bump against your clit, which made your body jolt every time he brushed the needy bundle of nerves. 

Bucky felt so good, and you were so close to getting what you really wanted—his cock inside you—but you forced yourself to remember the game you were playing.

You grabbed Bucky’s face in both hands, tipping it up so you could catch his eye. There was an almost dazed look on his face, but he blinked and focused back on you.

“It isn’t a safe time of the month,” you said, as sternly as you could manage. But your breaths were coming too quickly for there to be much steel in your voice. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your clit purposefully and your hips bore down on his hand, your body begging for more as you whined, “You can’t fuck me bare, Bucky.” 

“I won’t, baby,” Bucky purred, wrapping the fingers that were sticky with your desire around the hard length of his cock. He chuckled when you whimpered at the loss of his touch, leaning down over you and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just let me rub against you—you’re so wet, it’ll feel so good. I won’t push inside your drippy little pussy, baby, I promise.”

You knew he was lying, and you knew Bucky knew you knew he was lying. For some reason, that made everything so much hotter. So did playing the reluctant participant, which was why you bit your lip with fake nervousness as you stared up at Bucky, your panting breaths adding even more uncertainty to your voice when you spoke.

“Oh-okay, daddy, you can rub against me—but no more.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before Bucky was sliding his thick, hard cock between your pussy lips, making you moan and spread your legs wider, raising your knees toward your chest to give him all the access he needed. 

Bucky let out a groan and dropped down to cover you with his body, his arms digging beneath your back to hold you pinned tightly against his chest. Your sensitive nipples rubbed against him, teasing you relentlessly.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Bucky rumbled, rocking his hips so his cock dragged between your swollen, dripping folds, rubbing against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure swirling through your body. “So wet… You’re making a fucking mess on my cock, baby.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered in Bucky’s ear, your body shuddering under the onslaught of blistering pleasure and aching emptiness in your core. 

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, hands digging into his soft brown hair and holding onto him while his hips kept rocking into the cradle of your body, his cock grinding against your clit until you were gushing with wetness all over his stiff length.

“Doesn’t it feel good, baby?” Bucky murmured in your ear, his voice sweetly entreating, like he was trying to convince you of something, though you were already very well aware that his hard shaft grinding into your dripping wet pussy felt better than it had any right. “You’re creaming all over daddy’s cock, baby—tell me how good it feels.”

“Nngh, so goooood,” you keened, hooking your ankles around the backs of Bucky’s thighs to get better leverage to grind against his hard length. You were caught between wanting more and wanting to keep grinding against him. “Your cock feels sooo good, daddy, so big and hard against my drippy pussy.”

“Fuck, ‘m so hard for you,” Bucky groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he rutted into your soft, drenched folds with rough, punishing thrusts. “My dick’s throbbing for your cunt, baby, can you feel it?”

He pressed his shaft deep into your slit, the flared head of his cock bullying your clit, and you could feel it. You could feel the pulse in his hard length, joining the rhythm in your center. 

Your body reacted on instinct, your inner walls clenching hard around nothing while you whined his name, “Buckyyy.”

“I can feel you, baby,” Bucky rumbled, the teasing tone back in his voice. “I can feel your cunt mouthing at my cock.” 

Bucky’s words sounded so deliciously depraved that you wanted to turn your head and kiss him, to taste his debauchery straight from his tongue. You knew he had a filthy mouth, but his dirty talk was even hotter because of the game you were playing—and he just kept talking. 

“Feels like ya want me to fuck you, baby,” he cooed, lifting his head to speak directly in your ear. “Does your pretty little cunt wanna get fucked?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to scream, ‘Yes!’ You wanted to get fucked so bad. You practically desperate for Bucky to push inside you and impale you on his cock, to pump into your pussy bare and cum inside you. You managed to bite it back at the last second for the sake of the role you were playing, but you couldn’t get any other words out.

When you were quiet, save for your panting breaths while Bucky’s hips kept up their torturous rocking, he lifted himself, bracing on his forearms so he could hover above you and see your face. He raised an eyebrow in question, his body slowing its movement as his gaze raked over your face, uncertainty flickering in the depths of his blue eyes.

It was clear he was questioning whether you still wanted to play the game you’d both started, and the fact that he was taking the time to check in with you had your heart squeezing uncomfortably in your chest. 

It was an annoying reminder that Bucky wasn’t the kind of man to be selfish and self-absorbed in bed. Even if he was only your situationship, he made sure you were enjoying everything he was doing. 

And you wanted him to know you were enjoying yourself very much—and that you still wanted to play the role you’d been given.

“I want you so bad, Bucky.” The words tumbled from your lips as you gave in to the urge to assuage Bucky’s concern. “I want you so bad, but we shouldn’t,” you whined, pouting up at him as you slipped back into the game. 

The furrow of concern smoothed itself from Bucky’s brow and he smirked before ducking down to capture your lips in a quick kiss. 

His hips began rocking into you again, and he swallowed your responding moan greedily. He groaned himself when you used your ankles hooked around his thighs to grind back against him, your soft, wet pussy sliding against the rough ridge of his cock and making a mess of both of you.

“What if I…what if I just push the tip in?” Bucky rasped, pulling away and catching your eye, a smirk fluttered at the edges of his mouth, like he was trying to hold it back but was failing. “Just the tip—just let me feel you. Please, baby, I wanna feel you so fucking bad.” 

Bucky bowed his head, pressing sweet kisses to your collarbones, a barely restrained chuckle rumbling his chest. It seemed he’d lost the battle with being able to keep a straight face and you couldn’t blame him, your mouth was spread in a mischievous grin while your nails raked through his short brown hair.

“It’s not safe,” you reminded him, but there was an edge of glee in your tone. 

You couldn’t hide the fact that you were having fun with Bucky, playing out the little game he’d started. You were so close to getting what you wanted, that it only made it more difficult to pretend you didn’t want it. 

So when you murmured, “If you cum inside me, Bucky…” your voice was breathless with desire, and you had to cut yourself off to bite back the moan that wanted to be set free. 

Bucky smirked against your neck, his teeth nipping playfully at the mark he’d left on your throat before he responded. “It’s just the tip, baby, promise—I won’t cum inside you.”

Had it always been so easy for you to hear when Bucky was lying, or had he given up on the pretense of the game so much that it was even more obvious? 

The question flitted across your mind but didn’t stay long. You were too busy gasping a quick, “Ok,” your hips tilting, trying to catch the tip of Bucky’s cock in your hole on one of his grinding thrusts. However, it wasn’t until he pulled his hips back that the head of his hard length notched at your tight, clenching pussy.

Both of you held your breath when Bucky pushed inside. He stopped when just the tip was nestled inside the entrance of your warm, wet cunt. 

“Fuuuck,” Bucky groaned, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the hollow of your throat and his scruff rasping against your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking warm, baby,” he rumbled into your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your throat making you shiver all over. “Gotta do it again.”

His muttered words were your only warning before his hips reared back, the broad tip of his cock pulling free from your grasping hole. A tortured whimper slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, and Bucky chuckled as he slid back inside you, your pitiful sound dissolving into a moan when the head of his cock popped into your cunt.

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” Bucky crooned in your ear, doing it again, slower that time, making you feel every tiny bit of his tip pushing into your weeping hole. “My cock sliding into your drippy little cunt—you’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Bucky, so wet for you,” you echoed, unable to do more when all your focus was on not impaling yourself on Bucky’s cock. Your body squirmed beneath his larger form, one of Bucky’s big hands pressing down on your hip like he knew you were barely holding back from pushing yourself down on his cock.

“It would be so easy for me to slide all the way inside, don’t ya think, baby?” Bucky purred in a teasing tone, his hips rocking forward until he’d pushed another inch deeper before pulling back so only the tip was inside you again.

Just that little tease had you moaning mindlessly beneath Bucky, tears of desire and frustration springing to your eyes. 

Your arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s shoulders and your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him in deeper. You needed more, to hell with the game you’d been playing. You needed him inside you already. 

“Bucky, please,” you begged on a sob, pressing your face into his cheek.

“I can feel your cunt gripping me, baby, sucking on me—she wants me to push deeper,” Bucky rumbled in your ear, a gruffness to his voice that told you he was reaching the limit of his patience with the game as well. 

In that moment, you’d have done anything to get Bucky to fuck you properly, but before you could speak, he went on. 

“Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough as crushed rock, his own breaths hot and heavy against your skin. “Want my cock buried deep inside you, filling you up and fucking you hard?”

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you gasped, your hands diving into his hair and pulling his head up so you could look him in the eye. You had to blink the tears from your eyes to do it, but you didn’t want there to be any confusion about what you wanted. “Fuck me, daddy, please!”

A slow, depraved grin spread across Bucky’s face as his eyes roved over your tear-stained cheeks. You felt the tip of his cock twitch inside you, and your body gave an answering clench, like it was begging him to slide inside. But Bucky seemed happy to let his eyes wander over your face, relishing the sight of you crying and begging him to fuck you. 

It felt like a small eternity before his gaze met yours again and he seemed ready to give you what you wanted. 

“But don’t cum inside you, right, baby?” Bucky asked, a devious tone in his voice. His hips pulled back and thrust forward slowly, pushing his big cock inside you at a torturous pace. Bucky’s grin was teasing as he went on, murmuring, “Wouldn’t want daddy knocking you up, right, baby?” 

At Bucky’s words, something inside you snapped. Your mind went blank and your body moved on its own, your legs hiking up Bucky’s sides to wrap tightly around his lower back. Your heels dug into his firm ass and you whined loudly until he let you pull him deeper inside you.

Bucky’s cock impaled you with one thrust, a pleasured grunt slipping from his mouth, half-muffled against your neck. He filled you up all the way to the root of his thick cock and you moaned, long and loud in his ear. 

You finally got what you wanted. Finally, you were full of his cock.

Bucky was buried so deep inside you that you could feel his balls pressed against your ass—his big, heavy balls, full of the seed you desperately wanted him to pump inside you. The desire left you dizzy and dazed, your body thrumming with a need to be filled, to be knocked up, to be bred by your situationship.

“Breed me, Bucky,” you whispered breathlessly in his ear. 

He stilled for a very brief second, but then he was groaning obscenely, sucking hard on the hickey he’d already left. Whether it was a reward or a punishment, you didn’t know—nor did you care.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky grunted, his legs shifting on your bed and repositioning himself to fight against the stranglehold you had on his body. 

He pushed up onto his forearms so he could hover above you, his eyes raking over your face as he rolled his hips to fuck you in hard, shallow thrusts that had your lips parting, punched-out whines slipping from your mouth. 

You were so consumed in basking in your pleasure that it took you a moment to realize Bucky had gone quiet—quieter than he normally was when he was fucking you. It took another moment for you to blink your vision back into focus and when you did, you sucked in a sharp breath at the look of pure, depraved desire on Bucky’s face. 

“Do you have something you want to tell me, baby?” he asked dryly, lifting an eyebrow in question. Before you could answer, he ducked down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, the heat of his tongue flicking into your mouth making you moan. “Does my girl have a breeding kink she failed to tell me about?” he asked in a teasing tone, plunging his cock deep into your pussy and grinding hard against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Not your girl,” you managed to gasp, even through the pleasure. 

A low growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, but it cut off abruptly. It seemed your situationship didn’t like being reminded that he wasn’t the only one who fucked you. Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, biting it a little harshly, making your pussy clench around his cock as you whined through the brief sting.  

“Does John fucking Walker know about your breeding kink?” Bucky seethed, his voice suddenly furious. His anger was reflected in the way he picked up the pace of his hips, fucking you in rough, hard thrusts that had you crying out and clinging to his shoulders, your nails sinking deep into his golden skin. “Do you let John fucking Walker fuck you raw—fucking tell me, baby.”

“No,” you cried, tears of pleasure slipping from your eyes and trailing down your temples into your hair. Bucky’s lips found the salty tears and he kissed them from your skin, making your heart and pussy clench simultaneously. “You’re the only one allowed to fuck me bare, Bucky, you know that.” 

“That’s fucking right,” he growled, punctuating each of his words with brutal thrusts. “I’m the only man who fucks this pussy raw,” he went on in a gruff, furious voice, raising up onto his arms so he could look you in the eye. “I’m the only man who cums inside this cunt, who fills you up until you’re leaking my seed all down your pretty thighs—I’m the only man who breeds you, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes—yes, Bucky, only you,” you cried, squirming beneath him, using your ankles hooked around his thighs to meet Bucky’s thrusts. It didn’t even occur to you to fight him on his possessive questions—he was right. He was the only one allowed to do all those things. “Only you, only you—please, I need you to breed me Bucky!”

You were getting close, but before you could tumble over the edge of your release, Bucky sat up, breaking the hold of your arms as he pushed up onto his knees. You let out a frustrated wail, but stopped short at the expression on Bucky’s face.

The look in his eye was wild, nearly feral. His hands were rough and possessive when he grabbed your plush thighs, pushing them up toward your chest until you were folded in half. His cock was still inside you, but not nearly as deep as you wanted it in the position Bucky was in. 

Your hips squirmed, a whine working its way up your throat before spilling free.

Bucky leaned back down on top of you, pinning your legs to your chest and your body to the bed as his cock slid deeper until you were so full of him, you swore you could feel him in womb—even though you knew that was impossible. 

He stayed like that, buried inside you, his cock stretching out your tight cunt while he rocked his hips, grinding deeper into you. All the while, he stared at you, his gaze glittering with the wildness that spoke of a deep-rooted possessiveness, but when he spoke, his voice was deceptively sweet.

“You want daddy to breed you, baby?” Bucky cooed in your ear, his mouth pressing wet, messy kisses to your cheek and jaw. “You knew it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and you let me fuck you raw anyway—such a silly little cumslut pretending you didn’t want it, but you do, right, baby?”

All you could manage was a punched-out, “Uh huh,” Bucky’s heavy weight pressing the air from your lungs while he crushed you to the bed. He shifted a little, so you could breathe, but it didn’t seem to matter that you’d responded, because he went on as if he hadn’t even heard you.

“You wanna feel my fat cock bruising your cervix, baby?” he huffed, pausing only to nip at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, making you clench hard around his cock. His next words came out on a filthy groan, pouring into your ear and settling deep in your mind. “Ya want me to flood your fertile little cunt with my seed and breed you—is that it?” 

You were half feral yourself with desire, with your need to cum—with your need to feel him cum inside you—and you weren’t sure if Bucky was checking in with you, or if he was getting off on teasing you, but you rushed to answer, telling him the truth.

“God, Bucky, yes—please,” you whined, your fingers digging into his soft hair and towing his head until your mouth found his, kissing him messily while he kept fucking you in hard, rough thrusts. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy, make me your pretty little cumdump, please, I want it—I need it!” you cried into Bucky’s mouth, your words half muffled because neither of you wanted to pull away. 

“Jesus fucking christ, baby,” Bucky grunted, his hot breath panting past your lips. You felt his mouth curve into a sly smirk. “First you don’t want me to fuck you because it isn’t safe,” he murmured in a teasing tone. “And now you want me to breed your little pussy full of cum—which is it, baby, d’you want me to pull out or cum inside your unprotected cunt?”

A mindless moan slipped from your lips at his filthy question, your mind going entirely blank for a split second. All you could do was feel—Bucky’s thick cock pounding into your pussy, the tip hitting a spot inside you that felt so good, you never wanted him to stop. It was too good, you didn’t want him to pull out, even if it would’ve been the smart decision.

“Breed me, daddy,” you begged in a throaty, desperate voice. “Breed me, cum inside me—please, please, please!”

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, but he sounded pleased, too. “I’m so fucking close, baby, so close to draining my balls in your tight little cunt.” 

His body shifted and then he was pounding into you in a new, better angle, making you feel impossibly good as you careened toward the edge of your release. 

“Tell me, baby,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you never let John fucking Walker cum inside you—tell me I’m the only man allowed to breed you.”

You whined, well aware you’d already told him—and he already knew he was the only one allowed to cum inside you. But it fed the possessiveness Bucky felt, and it felt good to give him that, so you did. 

“You’re the only one,” you promised in a thready voice, your pleasure dripping from every word. “The only man allowed to cum inside me—you’re the only man allowed to breed me, daddy!”

Bucky captured your mouth in a dominating kiss, his tongue plunging past your lips like he was desperate to fuck as many of your holes at the same time as possible. You moaned into his mouth, gripping his face and holding him close while you sucked on his tongue, your nails raking through the scruff on his jaw, both of you groaning at how good the other felt.

Finally, Bucky managed to wrench himself away from your clinging grip and his face hovered above yours, a devious smirk on his plump lips.

“Ya know I heard,” he started, his voice a little breathless and gruff, the deep sound of it singing through your body and making you shiver as your pussy pulsed around his thrusting cock. “If you cum at the same time as me, you’re more likely to get knocked up.” 

A violent shiver raced down your spine and your pussy clenched hard around Bucky’s cock. His words were going to be the end of you, you just knew it, but what a glorious end it would be.

Bucky grinned at your body’s reaction, looking far too pleased with himself, though you were too far gone in your pleasure to try to wipe that smirk off his face. Not that he gave you much opportunity, ducking down to murmur in your ear.

“Rub your clit, baby, I wanna feel you cumming on my cock while I’m knocking you up.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you whimpered pleasure spiraling through you at his words, but you did as he said. 

You slipped your hand between your bodies, finding your clit messy and sticky with your desire, your fingertips brushing the thick shaft of Bucky’s cock as he fucked you. Rubbing your clit in ruthless little circles, your body pulled tight.

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop!”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as the coiled tension in your body finally shattered, and you came with a strangled cry, pleasure consuming your mind and body. 

Your release washed over you in waves of bliss that were so intense, you could feel your arms and legs trembling, your cunt clenching hard around Bucky’s thick length that was still plunging deep into your grasping channel.

“That’s it, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” Bucky rasped, brushing sloppy kisses to your face as he rutted into you, his thrusts turning wild and rough. “You feel so fucking good, baby, you’re doing so good for me, gonna make me a daddy for real, baby—Jesus fuck.” 

Bucky cut himself off on a groan, his hips pressing flush to the backs of your thighs, his cock impaled to the hilt in your still fluttering cunt. He came with a loud moan, his cock twitching inside you as he shot rope after rope of cum into your pussy. Your inner walls milked every last drop of seed from his balls while he painted the inside of you white.

When Bucky was finally spent, he collapsed on top of you, your bodies easing into a more comfortable position. He lay on top of you in the cradle of your thighs, his palms smoothing over your hips and sides while your fingers stroked idly through his soft hair. You made small sounds of contentment, and an answering, pleased rumble, sounded in his chest. 

Finally, just when it was beginning to get uncomfortable bearing so much of Bucky’s weight, he heaved himself up onto his knees and carefully slid his cock from your thoroughly used pussy. You watched him, his gaze focused on the slit between your thighs, and you saw the moment his blue eyes darkened when his cum started dripping out of you.

You reached between you thighs, which were splayed over his his spread knees, to clean up the cum before it made a mess of your bedsheets, but Bucky knocked your hand away. He fished through the mussed up bedding until he found his discarded sweatpants and pulled his phone from the pocket. 

Your body was limp with sated pleasure, and he’d taken enough post-sex photos of you, that you let Bucky arrange you how he wanted. You even held your legs open for him so he could position his phone above your pussy and take a couple close-up photos of his cum spilling out of your pussy. Then he pulled his phone back, so your whole body was in the shot.

“Say, ‘I’m gonna be a mommy,’ baby,” Bucky ordered, a lazy grin on his face.

Between your thighs, your pussy pulsed at the words, which sounded so innocent and so filthy at the same time. Heat filled your cheeks and you turned your head to the side, trying to bury your face in a pillow while you whined, “Bucky.” 

You knew it was silly to be shy about saying something so innocuous, especially after everything you and Bucky had just said and done, but the moment was over. You didn’t normally have such a breeding kink, but you’d been so horny and it had made you so hot to talk about getting bred while Bucky was inside you. 

However, it felt like a whole other thing to play into it when the heat of the moment had passed. It felt like the kind of thing boyfriends and girlfriends did, and you knew better than to tread into that territory. 

Still, your body warmed at the idea of looking into Bucky’s camera and saying those words…

“Baby,” Bucky crooned, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “C’mon, I know you wanna,” he murmured in your ear, his mouth brushing butterfly kisses along your jaw. “You don’t have to be shy with me, baby, I know you’re a dirty little breeding slut desperate to be daddy’s good little cumdump.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” you groaned, but you were smiling when you turned your head and met his mouth for a kiss. 

Bucky let you kiss him for a few moments before he pulled away and sat up, holding his camera in position while he raised his eyebrows at you in an expectant expression.

“I’m gonna be a mommy,” you mumbled, pouting up at the camera while Bucky snapped a few photos. It wasn’t long before you were smiling and preening for the camera, sticking your tits out and holding your legs even wider for Bucky.

“Good girl,” he murmured, catching your eye as he lowered his phone. He was giving you a pleased smirk, and you smiled up at him in return.

Bucky gently moved your legs from around his waist and flopped down on the bed beside you, swiping through the photos he’d taken of his cum leaking out of your pussy while you curled around his bicep. You had to admit, they looked hot—even the ones of you pouting and mumbling up at him.

Seeing yourself like that was turning you on and you were just about to shimmy down Bucky’s body and lick his cock clean until he was hard again when he spoke, derailing your dirty thoughts.

“I’ll pick up the morning after pill for you before I head home,” he rumbled absentmindedly, still focused more on his phone. You could see him favoriting some of the photos he’d taken and saving them to a separate folder. “And if you are knocked up, I’ll pay to have it taken care of—but don’t expect me to cuddle you and do boyfriend shit after.”

For a moment, you restrained the urge to smack Bucky in the face with a pillow. And then you thought, why not? You weren’t his girlfriend, you didn’t need to play nice. 

So you grabbed the pillow behind your head and brought it down right on Bucky’s face. He let out a satisfying, startled ‘oomph’ sound, and you chuckled as you rolled out of bed. 

“Gee, thanks,” you shot over your shoulder sarcastically as you padded toward the bathroom, intent on cleaning Bucky’s cum from between your thighs. 

But then you had an evil thought and a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You wiped that look off your face, though, as you turned and leaned against your doorway, striking a casual pose.

“Maybe if I’m knocked up, I’ll just let John fuck me bare and tell him it’s his,” you said, giving a carefree little shrug while trying not to make it obvious how close you were watching Bucky.

You were delighted when his head snapped toward you, his gaze finally pulling away from his phone as his brows lowered into a glare. His soft mouth turned down at the corners, a furious frown darkening his face.

“D’you think John would offer to marry me?” you asked, ignoring Bucky’s reaction and tapping your chin with one finger like you were thinking. “He strikes me as the type of man who’d want to make an ‘honest woman’ out of me.” You couldn’t hold in your eye roll, even as you were trying to torture Bucky with the possibility of you marrying John fucking Walker.

In an instant, Bucky was up and off the bed, pinning you to the doorframe of your room with every inch of his big, strong body pressed against yours. You only had time to gasp while Bucky quickly gathered your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head. His hardening cock was trapped against your belly, the stickiness of both your releases rubbing into your skin.

“You’re not marrying John fucking Walker, baby,” Bucky growled while he loomed over you. He was so close, you had to tilt your head back to look up at him, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. “And you’re certainly not raising my kid with Walker’s last name.” 

At that, you had to laugh. But when you saw how serious Bucky still looked, you realized he didn’t realize you were just trying to get a rise out of him. Something about the thought of you marrying John Walker had clearly made all rational thought completely abandon Bucky in that moment. 

Instead of thinking too hard about Bucky’s reaction, you explained yourself to him.

“Bucky, it was a joke,” you wheezed, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I’m not gonna marry John.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted back and forth between yours, like he was checking to make sure you were being honest. He must’ve decided you were because he blew out a breath and closed his eyes, his forehead falling to yours. 

“Jesus, baby, you drive me fucking wild sometimes,” he rumbled, but there was humor in his tone, albeit reluctant.

A breathless laugh slipped from your lips and you leaned back against the doorframe, hiking your leg up around Bucky’s waist. He caught it in his free hand, the movement pressing his thickening cock between your thighs, making both of you groan.

“I think you should show me exactly how wild I make you,” you purred, rocking your hips against his stiff length, coating him in the mixture of your desire and his cum still leaking out of you. 

Bucky growled, his eyes flying open as he stared at you and worked his cock against your pussy. 

“Careful what you ask for, baby,” he rumbled, his tone a delicious taunt that had your toes curling against the floorboards and your hips tilting so you could rub your clit against his hard shaft. “Or you’re gonna get another load pumped into your tight, unprotected little cunt.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, smirking up at Bucky and watching as his eyes darkened with desire.

In a flash, Bucky dropped your leg and let go of your wrists, spinning you around to face the doorframe and yanking your hips toward his lap with a rough, possessive grip on your body. Your upper body fell forward and your hands clung to the doorframe, nails digging into the wood when Bucky entered you in a swift, hard thrust.

Bucky fucked you in the doorway of your bedroom, making you promise yet again that you’d never let John Walker fuck you without a condom before emptying a second load inside you.

After, he followed you to the bathroom, hopping in the shower with you where he drained what little cum was left in his balls inside your pussy before helping you clean up—though you suspected he only offered to help so he could finger his cum deeper into your cunt under the pretense of cleaning you.

When you were both finally, finally sated, you collapsed into your bed together. Your mind was blissfully blank and your body deliciously sore as you cuddled together. Bucky dozed for a bit, his head on your chest while you carded your fingers through his hair and watched your show.

After a while, Bucky roused and got dressed, going out to get you the morning after pill from the nearest drug store, just like he’d said he would. 

He also brought you back your favorite sports drink and snacks, explaining in a gruff voice that he’d read the potential side effects of the pill on the box and wanted you to be prepared. You refused to feel any type of way about that.

Then Bucky kissed you and left to head home.

All things considered, it was a good thing your new birth control had taken effect, or the morning after pill had worked, and you didn’t get pregnant despite the evening you’d had with Bucky. It was a relief when you were able to tell him that your risky night hadn’t led to any of the consequences the both of you had willfully ignored.

When you texted him to tell him you’d gotten your period, he responded quickly, messaging twice in quick succession. The first text made you roll your eyes, because you thought that was all he’d have to say. 

Good.

But then you saw the second message, and you could imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ ridiculously handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye when he’d sent it.

It made you smile, and you had to bite your lip against a giggle, forcefully reminding yourself that he was just a situationship.

Let me know when you wanna play ‘just the tip’ to ‘breed me, daddy’ again, baby.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is Bruce and Clark's Civilian friend

So! Danny met Bruce and Clark at a Charity Gala promoting his Clean Energy and Technology Company.

It was just something He, Tucker, and Sam had started up after High School to try and do some good in the world, but grew faster than they realized, until they were a rising star in the Green Energy and Technology Business. Really they should have expected it, with Sam's drive for environmental protection and Tucker's love of technology, it was a given that they would push the company farther than anticipated. Danny was mostly just the front-man (aside from helping out Tucker in the Lab sometimes).

The Gala was set up by Sam to raise money for environmental preservation efforts, and Danny was there as a formality since he was the Face of the Business and technically the CEO.

Danny had struck up a conversation with Bruce, having been introduced by Sam, and they were eventually approached by Clark for an interview. He wanted to get their thoughts on the recently proposed Meta Protection Acts, and after the interview Danny decided to give Clark his contact to see if he wanted to do a follow-up. Bruce did the same, and they agreed to talk in the future.

Danny hadn't expected that to be the start of a new friendship.

Bruce and Clark seemed to click instantly with him, and while it took longer they also seemed to warm up to eachother as well. It got to the point where they were talking outside of Galas or Interviews and just called to check up on eachother. It was nice, having friends outside of Tucker and Sam for once.

Oh and also they were totally Dating.

Yeah, it was kind of obvious in hindsight that his two friends had a thing for eachother. Bruce and Clark would always share these looks with eachother before leaving the room, or Clark would check his phone for a message from whenever Bruce texted someone. They seemed to be hanging out without him as well, since they sometimes slipped up and referenced events they experienced together that he wasn't there for.

Of course Clark was publicly dating Lois Lane from his workplace, but listening his coworkers gossip long enough told him what was really going on. Lois and Clark were fake-dating so that Lois could secretly date Superman without being targeted by his enemies as much, and Clark could date a secret partner that none of his coworkers could figure out.

So when he was talking to Clark one day and the man got a text message and suddenly had a bad stomach ache, Danny decided that he should probably let him know that he knew.

"Oh don't worry Clark, I know what's going on. No need to keep up appearance with me around." He said.

"O-oh? Uh, what are you talking about Danny?" Clark asked surprised.

Danny shrugged, "It was pretty obvious in hindsight. The sneaking off, the text messages that got you to leave in a hurry, the secret glances between you and Bruce. After a while it was hard to ignore."

Clark cringed a little, "I just have a nervous stomach, and I have to rush off for work pretty often. That's all Danny."

Danny leveled a glance at him, "So does Bruce also have an upset stomach that just so happens to match up to yours? And why is Bruce following you to your Job? What, is he trying to get a job at the Daily Planet that he owns?"

"O-oh, well- I mean- That doesn't necessarily mean that I'm-" Clark stuttered.

"Calm down man, I'm not going to say anything." Danny reassured him. "It's your business, and nobody has any right to know your personal business unless you tell them. I just figured it out on my own, but I'm not gonna go shouting from the rooftops that Clark Kent is-"

"That's enough Danny, no need to demonstrate, but...thank you." Clark cut him off, "So far only Lois and Jimmy have figured me out on their own, and it's nice to finally have somebody else to talk to about this."

Danny shrugged and patted him on the shoulder, "No problem Clark, if you ever need to talk to me about it I'm all ears."

[evilminji]

Been Watching Weird Fruit Explorer(?)... and I just...

W-Who let Bored Danny have BooTube?

Sorry, YOU-Tube. He has TWO Apps now. BooTube is bigger. Way more random, yet... somehow more niche? Meh. It's what happens when you get billions of billions of people who all have their own Obsessions to rant over, on a site.

Ember's channel is pretty lit, tho, ngl.

He stopped using YOU-Tube almost overnight. Too many ads, weird algorithmic pushiness. No thanks. It was too small and too "trying to take my money". You know?

Buuuuut? See.... TUCKER is the Tech guy.

Coding and that sort of stuff. HE does hands on work. You want a toaster? He can MAKE you a toaster! With LAZERS! Runs off The Goo! But a program? Eeeeeeeh? Hit it with hammer maybe? Monkey make fire? Hit with stick? Blergh.

Yeah, he can SORTA push through.

But he suuuucks.

And like... he had a headache, okay? His project had just, quiet literally, exploded in his face. So when he looked at his phone? All the apps were blobs. He clicked the one that LOOKED kinda right. Shoved his arm in his phone and brute forced a channel set up.

He figured he could ramble about Space!

It's not like he cared is anyone LISTENS or not! It's a "for him" thing, you know? Like a diary. But more... putting on a ☆~show~☆?

So he rambles from the floor of his Lair's Lab, crashs and wails in the distance, green sky occasionally visible as he lazily floats by windows. Dropping... juuuust past human knowledge understanding of Space. Talking like he's STUDYING somewhere. Referencing PAPERS no human will ever be able to find.

But a few they WILL.

Some of which, are currently? Only half written.

But then? Oh YEAH... he should eat! You know... Sam keeps bringing him fruits and veggies and stuff from her internship at that Botanical Lair. Stuff never seen before of Earth. Or hasn't been seen in centuries.

Again, like, a FEW that? Randomly? Have???

He picks up something sharply purple, bright orange insides. Crisp crunch. He makes a face. And starts to ramble about it, distracted from Space. "Weirdly mushroom-y" he notes. "Kinda bubblegum sweet? But like... CHEAP bubblegum. Like it hits you all at once and is kinda chemically. But it disappears real fast? Huh. Spicy too..."

It's the first video on the Playlist. One of hundreds. Two of the green Lanterns RECONIZE that fruit ad HIGHLY toxic to humans, can't recognize what planet they're seeing. Or how this alien teen got himself on YouTube.

He seems... unaware of how incredibly famous he's become.

But his strange techno Pharoah friend has not. HE is both perfectly aware and apparently amused. Has taken to feeding him rare and hazardous flora and fauna, to see if it tastes good.

....there have been an alarming number of plants from dead planets.

And the comments the kid makes? Alarming as hell.

Sam's just pleased everybody's getting their greens. Danny's glad him n tuck get to hang and do "try weird foods and fuck around, bro time". They've made lazers! Talked about stuff! Debated why Martian Manhunter is THE superior Justice League member.

Danny understands. Wonder Woman is a BAMF. But he's biased, Tucker. He doesn't CARE if she has a sword and flowy, impressive locks! Shape-shifting telepath! From MARS!!! *imaginary mic drop*

And Tucker? Is conquering the YouTube scene with this charming, weird, relatable young alien. Who rambles about Space, debates nerd stuff, eats weird plants and describes them, and makes sci-fi technology! Theme? WHAT THEME? Phantom is a weird channel, man. You never know what you'll find!

And no one can get rid of it.

Believe them, governments have TRIED. Censorship? Not possible. Not without removing the whole SITE.

[timmydraker]

Everyone in the Bat Clan has been noticing something over the years, specially about Tim.

Every so often he will go to do something with his hands or even his entire body, such as swaying or shaking his hands, but always stops himself.

There’s almost this look of annoyance on his face that just barely hides discomfort, but he brushes it off quickly.

Bruce noticed and, thinking about Robin more than anything, offered some kind of fidgeting device to help him stay on task, only for Tim to snap at him for the first time. It was his usual snark or commenting on Bruce’s well being, but a real moment of lashing out.

He decided then not to bother Tim about his clear want to move around it play with something even if it’s just his hands, mainly because he was doing his job well.

Yet, as he starts to really try and be a good parent to his kids and realises that Tim is one of the places he messed up most by basically using him to cope with grief, he decides to ask the rest of the family what they think.

Dick says it could be ADHD and he needs movements, with Barbara backing it up with a few websites in agreement.

Damian says he should mediate and Cass so what agrees but says it probably won’t help someone like Tim that much.

Duke and Steph make up a somewhat chaotic plan of coercing him into telling them what he needs, out of love and somewhat aggressive care.

It’s Jason who just scoffs and says, “It’s stimming, you idiots. He has like, super messed up standards cause of his parents, right? They probably didn’t allow it but he’s got that like, autastic thing.”

Only Jason Todd could say something so smart followed by completely idiocy.

But he is right, very much so. It might also explain why sometimes he seemingly couldn’t handle touch but when he panicked he need to be squeezed as tightly as possible.

Naturally, with a family of emotionally repressed vigilantes, they decide to subtly let him know it’s okay.

Dick is the worst with it, speaking far too loudly about how Autism is okay and how he wants to learn to support autistic kids, while Bruce thinks nodding along to this helps.

Damian just stares at Tim for five minutes before bailing and running away.

When a month passes and Tim seem more like he’s even more ashamed than anything my, Cass smashes her hand on the table at dinner and drags him out of the room to talk to him.

Tim is forced to sit and listen to his sister, who may or may not be his favourite sibling, talk about how he’s not damaged or wrong for needing to stim and move his body. She calls him out on how he is being a hypocrite, for accepting people like Bart and Barbara and and her for their disabilities whether ADHD or something physical but not himself.

Tim wouldn’t have been moved by this if it was anyone else, but never in all the time he’s known her has he heard Cass say so many words in one go nor can see her cry so much. She’s loud when she cries, making up for her silence, but it’s only something any of them have seen twice and that was Bruce and Steph.

He doesn’t just magically accept that he’s neurodivergent, nor does he ever want a title as to what is different about him, but the difference is still noticeable.

A week later him and Dick are watching an episode of their show and something Tim adores, a comic series, is referenced. Instead of what he usually does, that being sitting there as still as he can, he bats his hands around a for a few seconds before pausing and waiting for Dicks reaction.

When Dick beams at him brighter than a sun he continues, smacking the couch and even Dicks arm in his excitement.

A few days later he makes a high pitched noice just to get to an itch in his throat and doesn’t realise that Jason is there, yet when the other responds with the same noice, given a bit deeper, Tim smile. Bruce walks in on them making strange noises at each other in a sort of echo.

It’s months later when it’s his birthday and his family has come together to buy him a new, stupidly expensive camera only to reveal they also added a red light room in the manner for him to print them that they really see how much safer he feels.

He flaps his hands aggressively and jumps in place, rumbling out words that don’t all much and thanking them over and over.

He squeals happily but only has a moment where he looks shamed before Bruce holds out a flat palm for him to smack excitedly.

Later, when he gets overwhelmed and crashes a little, Duke lies on top of him to give him pressure only for Steph to sit on him.

[angelltheninth]

Hey I got into arcane recently. The art is just so goooooood. A feast for the eyes really. And everyone is hot like… help. Anyway, sorry for this loser request, but if you haven’t already can you do arcane characters with a virgin fem partner please

Loser request? I really hope that the loser part isn't that the virgin part, because I will have you know Anon that I am no loser. I am on my way to becoming a wizard!

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, Mel x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, kissing, virginity loss, gentle sex, praise, cunnilingus, size kink, fingering, orgasm encouragement, aftercare

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I'm also asexual so my chances of becoming a wizard are higher than your average persons. Only a few more years and I can be a better version of Harry Potter! Chat please tell me you know the meme I'm referencing and I don't sound like I'm crazy.

Was surprised for sure

She doesn't exactly have a ton of experience either but she has some

Can't say she's not excited about taking your virginity

Literally vibrates with excitement and anticipation of having sex with you and being the first one to make you come

At least as orgasms that are given by someone else that is, she would like to watch you fuck yourself sometime

Gets pussydrunk so easily, her grin smug and eyes literally shimmering

Really into making you ride her face, as you will learn over the course of your first night together

Has so much stamina that you can never even hope to keep up with but she never expected you to

Flattered that she could make you come just with her tongue

But wants to work on your stamina in the future

At first she thinks that she should tease you about it

Then she thinks better of it, since it's not exactly something to be ashamed of, she didn't mean anything bad by her teasing either

It's just... she knows she's not your first girlfriend, so how come you never had sex before

Nerves, well in that case she'll go slow with you, make sure you're not overwhelmed by her

Enthusiastic as she is she holds back, her fingers spreading you open slowly, only pushing them in a bit and then stopping fully

Doesn't stop talking dirty to you, grinning smugly when she feels your pussy tightening around her fingers

Likes it when you're flustered around her, not when you're uncomfortable

Cocky for sure, especially when she manages to make you come and didn't even need to touch your clit to do it

If she did she would have overstimulated you, you were already shaking so much

Keeps assuring you that you don't need to return the favor, but would love it if you do

Been a while since she slept with a virgin so she's actually a little nervous as well

Romantic dates, candle lights, relaxing baths, a massage, she pulls out every trick in the book to make it the best night ever

There's a lot of soft touching and affirmations from her

Has to battle a smile when you're blushing because she's making you feel good

Asks what makes you feel good when you're doing it by yourself and tries to do the same

Experimenting can come later, she wants to make your first time a nice experience, a memorable experience

Kisses down your body, almost like she's worshiping you

Seeing you sopping wet for her definitely helps her know she's doing a good job before she dives forward to eat you out

Tells you to pull her hair a lot, she won't mind

Keeps saying how pretty you are, how beautiful your moans sounds, how she wants to be the only one you moan for from now on

Feels really happy and excited that you'd trust her enough to be the first person to sleep with

Very touchy with you, not just as she's undressing you but in general, so it doesn't feel like it's too much when she guides you to the bed

Grinning she pulls you into a deep kiss and wraps her arms around you to press you against her, thighs sliding between each other

She guids your hips to move against her thigh, chuckling when she feels how slick you're making it

Kisses you the whole time because it's her favorite thing to do and because she knows it'll calm you

Doesn't go for penetration for your first time

But really wants you to sit on her face and to fuck you with her tongue

Subtly writes her name on your clit

Won't rush you into an orgasm, she lets you chase it on your own, her hands soothing against your trembling thighs

Post-orgasm cuddles are some of her favorite things so don't think this will be a one time thing

Before you told him you were a virgin he was a lot more relaxed

Now he feels a kind of pressure on himself to make your first time good

His first time was a quickie and not that memorable at all

So as your boyfriend he wants to give you a better experience and make sure you remember it for the rest of your life

Teases you to cover up his own nerves

He talks to you a lot, particularly when he's getting ready to push his cock into you

Before he does he does warn you that it can be painful but it won't last long

Shakes while pushing his cock into you, he really wants to fuck you but he's holding himself back, he's being considerate of you

Keeps his thrusts slow, smiling down at you before he pulls you into a gentle kiss, telling you how good you feel around him

Leaves it up to you if he pulls out or not

Genuinely surprised, so surprised he drops a glass and it breaks

Doesn't think you should be embaressed by it at all

Some people take a lot of time to feel safe and comfortable to be intimate with others

He's actually pretty flattered that you want him to be the one who took your virginity

Knows he's on the bigger size in terms of dick size so he really doesn't expect you to be able to take all of him, maybe half if you're lucky

It can be too much for your first time

You can just make up for it by giving him a really nice handjob

Pulls you onto his lap and wants to cuddle you afterwards, he was always pretty protective and caring towards you

Now that he's your lover you can expect that his protective tendencies will get even stronger

Surprised when you want to go again so soon but he won't argue with you

Had a feeling you were inexperienced but he didn't want to say anything

Then you might feel pressured into having sex with him and that's the last thing he wants

Besides if he was only after sex then he could get it easily

He wants more than just a one night stand, by now you know that he cares about you and wants this to be a serious relationship

Just because he's serious about this doesn't mean he can take the day off

Actually he thinks it might be better if happens spontaneously

His cock is rock hard when he pulls you onto his lap when you tease him in his office

You need to learn that there are consequences for your actions

Keeps his hand on your mouth as he fucks his cock into you, it would be bad if you were interrupted for your first time and you don't get that orgasm you've been so desperate for

From this moment on he expects you to be at his full disposal and he will be at yours, naturally, there's a lot you still need to learn about pleasuring a man like him

Tries to hold back her cocky smirk but she just can't, oh this is too good, a hot lady like you and no one's fucked you yet

Just means she gets to be the first one to show you how good sex can be

After she's done with you there won't ever be anyone else that'll be able to satisfy you like she could

Has to brag about her skills but won't make fun of you for your lack of skills

Offers to do it in the 69 position so you can mimic her movements

The best way to teach is a hands on method, or in this case the mouth and tongue on

Even though your own movements are a little clumsy and you can't focus all that well you still try to follow her lead the best you can and believe her she loves that hard working side of you

Smokes after sex, that's a habit at this point

But the catch is that she smokes after really good sex so you should take that as the highest of compliments

How soon can you go again because she would love to keep you going all night long

Well he doesn't have much experience to speak off either

So you can both learn new things, you don't have to be nervous around him

Gets hard for you really easily and has to focus to keep himself from coming too soon

Usually this isn't a problem for him but you've been the object of his fantasies and dreams many times before, he hopes this isn't another one of those fantasies

But the moment he pushes his finger inside of you he's convinced it's real, it feels right, to pleasure you, to love you

Keeps rubbing his cock while fingering you, he wants to show you he's just as eager and excited for this as you are

He moves really damn fast when he finally pushes his cock into your pussy, he can't help himself, he can't hold back, it's almost overwhelming

After he feels your inner walls pulsing and massaging his cock he slows down just a little

Not fully slow, but enough to get some control over himself

Doesn't want you get you pregnant on your first night together but in the future you can discuss such things

Almost comes in his pants from excitement

Now that would be embarrassing, for him not for you, he bets you'd love to see that

Someday maybe you will but for now he wants to focus on your pleasure not his

Eats you out like he's been starving for eternity

You have to push him away to get him to stop, your juices dripping from his mouth and into his beard, making it all shiny

Kisses your thighs, covers them with kisses and bites actually, same with your pussy

His eyes roll back when he bottoms out inside of you, he honestly didn't think you'd want all of him for your first time but you were very determined

That determination should be rewarded

He has always been the giver, he loves making his lover feel pleasure, especially if he's the first one to do that for her

You won't escape his arms when he wraps them around you from behind, pampering the back of your neck and shoulders with lazy, appreciative kisses after sex

You should have told her this information sooner, then she wouldn't have flirted with you so hard

Not that she regrets having you naked in her bed or anything like that, the opposite is true, she thinks she should have given you more time to fall into her bed

But if you're still sure you want to do this with her tonight then she will be more than happy to give you pleasure until the Sun rises

Always had a way with words and praise is no different

She might be three fingers deep in your pussy and making you squirt but she'll be damned if she'll stop talking about how sexy you are or how lucky she feels tonight

Never been much of a cuddler, she was always very guarded, but this is a special occasion

Of course she'll let you return the favor

Don't worry about clumsiness or anything like that, just do what feels right, do what makes you feel good

Trust that she'll tell you if it doesn't feel good

She doesn't really do one night stands but she also doesn't sleep over at other people's places a lot, so if you want to do this again you're gonna have to make your intentions clear next time

[deepspacedarling]

Random Headcanons for the LADS Boys

Warnings: none, this is just silly.

AN: these are just random things I believe in my heart of hearts is true about each of these boys. We need more random info about these boys. I want to know which shoe they put on first when they get dressed.

Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb

Xavier

Really good with a yo-yo. Like insanely good. He’s dexterous in general but his yo-yo skills are mesmerizing.

That man always has a coupon. He is a bargain finder. Can sniff out the discount stickers in the supermarket like a bloodhound.

Awful at laundry. He’ll wait for it all to pile up and then do it. He’s too lazy to fold it and put it away though so he’ll just live out of the clean laundry hamper until he needs to do laundry again. And the cycle continues.

Zayne

Really passionate about following the rules in a board game. He’s the one who’s got the rules next to him and constantly referencing them to make sure that no one is cheating.

He’s lactose intolerant but if you think that’s going to stop him from eating ice cream, you’ve got another thing coming. It's him and his lactaid pills against the world.

A really good dancer. He took dancer lessons at some point in his life and never brings it up. He only ever uses the skills for traditional dances like waltzes but if you asked him to salsa with you, not only could he but he’d surprise you by how good he is at it.

Rafayel

He doesn’t use his blinker. And he speeds. Good luck everyone else on the road. He only ever gets car sick if someone else is driving but when it’s him, he’s perfectly fine even when he’s doing crazy stuff behind the wheel.

Kicks in his sleep. He’s dreaming of swimming so he moves a lot. It’s cute up until he nearly rolls over on top of you because he’s dreaming about peeking himself in a rock to sun tan.

He loves canceling plans. Not on you but in general. He’ll spend hours getting ready but if you suddenly say “Hey, I’d rather stay in.” He’s already changed and comfy again before you’ve even finished the sentence.

Sylus

Wears contacts to see. He has reading glasses but he doesn’t use them often. He’d rather suffer and squint if his contacts aren’t in.

While he didn’t watch reality TV shows, Luke and Kieran do and so he knows A LOT about them because the boys stay yapping about it.

His sneeze is INSANELY loud. He doesn’t notice but everyone else in the house does. Luke and Kieran can hear him sneeze from the floor above.

Caleb

Will drink directly from the milk carton and he’s not sorry. He’ll do it again.

He’ll tell you he doesn’t want to watch your show with you and then stand behind the couch through the whole episode watching anyway. He'll ask questions but he won't sit down. When you invite him to sit, he tells you he’s about to leave. This happens for several episodes in a row.

Make old man noises sometimes. Like coughs and grunts and random wheezing sounds. He doesn’t notice he’s doing it but you do.

Requests are Open!

[changbunnies]

Devourance (18+)

♡ Pairing: Dracula / Nosferatu!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: vampire au, dracula / nosferatu au, 1800s au, human / vampire relationship, horror themes, reincarnation, soulmates, smut

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: Hyunjin has crossed oceans of time to find you– the one who's blood calls to him, who beckons for him in the dead of night, who yearns for his touch against all conceptions of what one must and must not desire. The ancient Vampyr has an appetite for you; an appetite that won't ever be sated.

♡ General Warnings: reader has depression (referred to as melancholy), reader is a lucid dreamer, usage of vampire abilities (invading dreams, shapeshifting, heightened senses), hyun's true form is very Creature Vampire so. still sexy if ur a monster fucker like me but some of y'all may not like that lmao

♡ Smut Warnings: does having sex with someone inside their dream count as somnophilia? idk !!, outdoor sex (kind of; it's a dream so they're not really outside lol), wet dreams, pet names (my love, my heart), referenced biting and blood drinking, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: originally, when i was planning my late kinktober fics, this was strictly a dracula au (as i love the 1992 movie and have a beautiful copy of the book sitting in my horror novel collection <3) but i saw the nosferatu remake in theaters and it rotted my fucking brain lmao so this became a blend of both ! i hope you enjoy it, cause i had a blast writing it <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

It starts as a dream; a waking one, so vivid and lucid that the line between conscious reality and imagination blurs, all perception of time and space bending and warping to what your subconscious mind feels most safe and familiar.

Your hands clasped together, a deep breath before you close your teary eyes, your souls desires laid out in a whispered prayer– "Come to me."

Who are you asking for? Who will heed your call? A friend you wish to have, but have yet to obtain? An imaginary prince charming who will right all the wrongs of your life with his presence alone? God himself? Death?

You do not know– all you know is that you are desperate for an escape from the melancholy that permeates your life, seeping its way into every crack of your porcelain heart, as thick and murky black as tar. It sticks to you, wraps itself around every cell, clinging to you in a loveless embrace.

Even in your dreams you cannot escape it; so often you hear tale of joyous dreams. Dreams in which you stand upon the altar, waiting to be wed to the love of your life, dreams in which you share a dinner with one you admire, or dreams in which you have coveted all that you desire.

You are regaled with recollections of dreams full of simple pleasures; warm and nostalgic, dreams of playing in the front yard as a child, with your mother's freshly baked bread wafting to you from the open window. Dreams of early school days, where one's only worry in the world was what they'd play when they got back home.

For some, dreams are entirely nonsensical; there is often no clear purpose, nor story, nor concrete feeling– but it is pleasant in its own right, and entertaining to recall the absurdities in which you found yourself in the middle of.

You do not experience such simple pleasures.

While for others, dreams are a pleasant escape from everyday life, a blissful end to an arduous day of work, your dreams are an extension of your reality. They offer no comfort, nor joy, nor escape from your bleak, mundane existence. You are ever as aware of yourself whilst asleep as you are while conscious, feeling every emotion just as strongly as you do in the light of day.

You wish you could say you have adapted to life with your melancholy, or learned to be at peace with it, or that you don't mind having no escape. But the truth of the matter is that your dreams being not a safe haven as they should be tolls on you, made worse by the fact that even in the sanctuary that should be your mind, you are utterly alone and miserable.

So there you stand in your waking dream, wishing for a change. A mirror of your reality, your status within your dream reflects the state you were in before falling to sleep. You are in your bedroom, as pitch dark as you left it when blowing out the candles, the only illumination coming from the moon shining through your balcony doors.

You stand in the middle of the room, hands clasped and eyes closed as you whisper your prayers, the same lily-white chemise you wore to bed draping your body. So perfect a recreation of your surroundings, that were it not for the fact that you so vividly remember adhering to your sleep routine and laying your head against the pillows, you might not even be able to say that this was a dream at all.

And though it is just the confines of your mind, and you are certain no one but God can hear you (if he will listen, and hasn't yet turned his back on you), you plead. 

"Come to me. A guardian angel, a spirit of comfort, a spirit of any celestial sphere– anyone, anything. Please, hear my call."

There is naught in the room but silence when you are finished; you are as alone with your thoughts as you ever are. You take a breath, blink away building tears, readying yourself to try again– and then, to your greatest surprise, there is a response.

For the first time in all your many dreams, a voice answers you– soft, an indistinct whisper akin to your own, but you hear it echo in the silence of your bedroom. Your eyes shoot open, a soft gasp leaving your parted lips as you look around the room.

Slowly, you lower your hands, taking an unconscious step forward, closer to where the voice calls to you from your balcony. You cannot yet discern what the voice is saying, nor can you see their figure, but you watch breathlessly as the lock on your balcony doors seems to unlatch itself, a sudden gust of wind pushing it open.

The air is cooler than you'd expect for a late spring's breeze, but you do not shiver or shrink away from the sudden chill; instead, you tentatively take another step, following the unfamiliar, beckoning voice. The voice becomes clearer the closer you step to the balcony, and though you see nothing out of the ordinary before you, you feel them.

No, to say you do not see them is not right– invisible in your mortal gaze, yes, but the moon casts their shadow on your wall, your curtains billowing with the steady breeze capturing their inhuman silhouette. And surely it is merely a trick of shadow that makes the figure appear so inhuman– because how else can you grapple with so foreign a creature standing before you?

You rationalize the impossibly tall silhouette as the moon elongating their shadow, the sharp and pointy length of their nails having simply become exaggerated, the unnatural point of their ears the result of a penumbra trick. Their figure vanishes with each fall of your curtains, reappearing with each rise; but their shadow ever lingers, eerie black against your ivory walls.

Their shadow serves as a reminder, you think– that even when you cannot see them, they will be there. Watching, beckoning, waiting; the voice, once so indistinct and otherworldly, is now crystal clear in your ears. Soft but luminous, it calls you as you take another cautious step closer.

"You," the voice starts, and though soft, it is an aching rasp– reminiscent, you think, of when one has fallen ill, or of times when one's throat has grown stiff from disuse. You have no further time to ponder if this is the man's– creature's?– natural inflection; for in just a few more careful utterances, their tone smooths, the soft voice becoming silken.

"You," the male voice repeats, smooth as satin and utterly mesmerizing, "I have heard you. And I answer in turn– come to me."

The shadow moves along your wall then, creeping closer to you; it feels as if it envelops you, embracing you with a blissful warmth you've never before felt. It clings to you with each step, but it does not feel like the melancholic tar you are accustomed to; it is a gentle ribbon, guiding you further with promises of sweetness you have so long craved.

Holding now to the railing of your balcony, you look to the gardens below. There you see him, standing amongst the tall, twisting trees and blooming lilacs. He gazes up at you, eyes black as a void, and yet they still shine in the light of the moon.

And just as a void promises to, his look swallows you whole. You lose yourself in the dark, hypnotic pool of his eyes, stumbling forward almost blindly, with one simple thought– you must go to him.

You are before him in an instant, though you have no recollection or understanding as to how. Did you walk off the balcony and fall below? Did you turn back and trek through the house to make it to the gardens? Is this the absurdity of dreams that normally eludes you, or is a greater power at work?

The answer seems of little importance; bewitched by the man standing before you, you find that logic and rationality hold no value. He is here, perfection and beauty embodied wholly– the answer to your prayers; that is all you care to know.

Your hand trembles, your utmost desire now to reach out and feel him beneath your fingertips, to confirm that he is not just a figment of your dream– that there really was someone in this world who could hear you from beyond, and cared enough to respond to your call.

Hair as black as his eyes, a few long strands falling over his perfect cheekbones, while the rest is tucked behind his normal, and not at all pointed, ears. He has full, plush lips shaded in an enchanting, muted red, with a little mole under his left eye and utterly flawless, pristine skin.

He is ethereal, and radiant, and he is here for you– and while his eyes hold a darkness you have never before seen, his smile is impossibly tender. He takes your trembling hand in his own, and you can feel his nails poke your skin as he closes it around you.

They are long, yes, but not as long and pointed as his shadow would've led you to believe them to be. There is a part of you that decides you were correct to think his features were simply exaggerated and warped by shadow, though the deep recesses of your heart and mind know this isn't true.

Whatever he is, whoever he may be– he is not of this world, you know that for certain. For who else in the world could hear you? Who would have the power to meet you in your mind? A trickster, an angel, a devil? It matters not, you decide; for perhaps, in some ways, you are not of this world either.

Perhaps you have always felt melancholic, twisted, and odd, because your destiny did not reside with your fellow man– perhaps it lied here, with this creature who wears the mask of the beautiful sort of prince charming you've yearned for.

His shadow was the truth of his being, you innately know, and yet it gives you no fear. He squeezes your hand, a reassurance, while the other rises to cup your cheek in his palm, a tender rub of his thumb along the skin where he holds you. His gentle touch is ice cold, but it spreads warmth through your body regardless– because oh, how you've longed for the companionship of another.

"You are for me," he whispers as he inches closer, your noses on the precipice of touching, "and I, you. Do you believe in destiny?" He stares at you, observing you closely as he awaits your answer. You swallow, heart quickening as you hold his gaze.

"Yes," you utter softly; for in the depths of your soul, you feel it– the immutable pull that tells you this is where you must be. Beside him, in his arms, at his side for all eternity– and he will love you, this you know true; because even down to the very marrow of your bones, your body says it is so.

He has searched for you for an age; not someone like you, no. You. Only you. And his delight to finally have heard his beloved's call, and to answer– it is an unparalleled joy, one that he expects you to share. For even in your mortal life, your blood sings for him just the same as it did those many, long centuries ago.

You were promised to him then, as you are now– and he will have you, just as he did then. First in sleep, as you are now, but someday soon he will find you in the physical world once more. He will hold you in his arms, your reunion as joyous as it is profane. Rejoice, as you join him back to your true home; the castle, your castle, where every moment was spent in unholy exuberance.

"Do you remember?" he asks, voice honey-sweet, "remember how we once were?"

You do not, not really– your mind has no recollection of the man before you. But your soul remembers, has carried the weight of centuries of love and longing with it all this time, waiting for the moment all the feelings harbored within could finally be unearthed.

"I know you," you answer, truthfully; because while this is your first meeting in this life, you recognize him all the same. In the deepest recesses of your memory, he is there, gazing upon you with the same reverence he does now. He holds you close, kisses you tender, his touch along your skin slow and gentle, his name a whispered prayer on your lips.

Hyunjin.

His eyes light up when you call his name, a smile growing on his perfect lips. Hyunjin would know you anywhere, and there was never any doubt you were his love– but all the same, it is a great relief to hear his name fall from your lips again after so many years spent longing for it.

He kisses you then, doing his utmost to relay the depths of his passion, while also holding the carnality he feels for you at bay– the last thing he wishes to do is overwhelm you with his appetite too soon. You are his affliction, his every desire, he must have you; and he can only pray that you will not deny him, or yourself, the pleasure– but only when the time is right.

"You will be mine once more," he says; a statement, not a question, between kisses to your lips, "as I am eternally yours." Your nerves tingle, blood alight as you return his affections, meeting his lips with urgency.

"I will have you," he continues, almost breathless as his lips begin to trail down your neck, "Will you swear it? That again, we are for no one but each other?" His breath tickles your skin, the points of two sharp teeth touching the sensitive pulse point. You shiver as his fangs linger there, closing your eyes as your heart thunders in your chest.

Hyunjin can not truly drink from you here, not in the confines of your dream, but his teeth against your neck serve as a reminder– that your blood is his greatest temptation. Should you promise yourself to him once more, he won't be able to resist you– as there is no taste sweeter than the blood of his beloved.

"I swear," you whisper your promise; for you will never fear him, nor can you deny the ecstasy that comes when he drinks from you. “ever-eternally, I am yours.” 

He is a beast of nightmares, a plague set upon the world, a ruinous omen of death, your immortal Vampyr; and you are safe in his hold. For he loves you and needs you too greatly to cause you any harm– an affection that contradicts his nature, but what a welcome contradiction it is. 

When you meet his gaze once more, his eyes burn with desire; it has been an agony, truly, to have such carnal desire for you all these centuries. And he could do naught with his desires but wait– wait for the day you would return to this world, and pray that your body and soul would still sing for him the way it once had. 

Hyunjin could have taken concubines, could’ve shared his castle with any great number of men or women– but they would not have been you. None can sate him the way you can, none can spread such flames of passion through his icy veins, none can make his eternally still heart feel as if it beats. It is not a vain promise when he says you are the only one for him– he means it with every fiber of his immortal being.

Your heart and soul, now free from their sepulchre, burn with need. He can hear the erratic thump of your heart, the blood rushing through your veins, can smell the arousal pooling between your legs. You desire him, just as he desires you– and he decides then that the time is right; there is no need to be cautious and careful with his affections.

You want him, and he wants you– and you will have each other, now and forever.

Hyunjin kisses you once more, hungry and urgent. He pulls your body flush to his own, holds you tightly as the wind rolls quickly past you. You realize, when you pull away to catch a breath, that your surroundings have shifted. Now in the center of the estate’s hedge maze, he lies you down on the stone bench beneath the grand statue of Mnemosyne.

You shiver against the cold stone, but he warms you with another kiss. His tongue meets your lips as his hand dances around the bottom of your chemise, lifting it up just enough to expose your lower half. His hands find your thighs, the points of his nails digging at the soft flesh as he squeezes you in his palms. 

It elicits a needy sound from deep within, one that you almost don’t recognize as your own. You feel the sharp points of his teeth with your tongue, while he spreads your legs apart to make more room for himself between them. He tugs your panties away with haste, and there is no shyness to be had when he separates to look at the way you glisten under the moonlight for him. 

He takes a moment to stare, licks his lips before looking back up to meet your eyes. You hold his gaze as he frees his cock from his trousers, swallowing as you look down for just a moment, and then back up to him. You are both eager, it is clear– and he will have neither of you wait any longer; you have both waited long enough. 

“I will have you,” Hyunjin repeats as he grabs your hips, lifting your bottom up from the stone bench and aligning you with himself. His thighs support you, while his feet stay firmly planted on the grass and stone below. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he removes one of his hands from your hips, using it to find leverage on the stone as he leans over you. 

You can feel his cock pulsing against you, excitement and anticipation building exponentially in your gut. “Mine again,” he whispers as he captures your lips in another kiss, “You are mine, my love.” 

He presses inside you as slowly as he can manage to, and you gasp, hands reaching out to cling to his arms. Thick and full, you let out a shuddering moan when his cock is sheathed fully inside your wet heat. He moans with you, the centuries of building need finally melting into the pure bliss he’d been longing for. 

But he refuses to rush– his thrusts are slow and fluid, precise and calculated, searching for the spot he knows will bring you utmost euphoria. You let out a high-pitched moan, followed by a curse, when he succeeds; and he smiles before he grits his teeth, determined to bring you to the heights of pleasure.

“Hyunjin, oh, please–” you whimper, nails digging into the fabric of his sleeves as he picks up his pace. He wanted to drag it out longer, truly, he did; but the mind is a powerful thing, and even whilst in a dream, the pleasure that you both feel is entirely real. 

And how much longer can one who has held centuries of lust and yearning hold back? Especially when the object of his every desire is moaning and begging for him so sweetly?

He could never resist you– not then, and especially not now. And long has he craved to hear his name spill from your lips like this again; so much so that the sound of it sends him into a frenzy. 

“Again,” he utters, equal parts desperate plea and urgent demand, “call to me, say my name.” You oblige easily, his name falling from your lips in a tantalizing mantra; and you feel his cock throb violently with each salacious whimper, his every thrust laced with desire and urgency.

He releases his grip on your hip, moving his hand to your center and pressing his thumb on your clit. Your breath catches, eyes rolling back as he rubs your clit in steady, practiced circles.

“Cum for me, my love,” Hyunjin urges; he is on the precipice of release himself, and he needs you to fall apart with him– it is the only way he can truly be satisfied. Your thighs tremble, whimpers broken by harsh breaths; and you let go of his arms, reach up to his face and pull him down into a desperate, needy kiss. 

He moans, and if his flesh were mortal, he is sure that goosebumps would’ve risen over every inch of his body. His thrusts lose their fluidity, becoming quick and choppy as he chases the high your body promises him. You clench tighter, toes curling and body quivering as you finally cum, your every moan of pleasure captured by his lips. 

His hips still as his own high takes him, his cock fully pressed inside, his cum spurting in long, sticky spurts. Your kisses are breathless, impassioned, but no longer urgent– they are soft promises of love, of eternity together in bliss.

You smile at him when he pulls away, and he looks at you just as tenderly as he had before, stroking your cheek and indulging in the heat it offers his thumb. You’ve never felt so relaxed, happy and at peace– but just then, you feel a sudden jolt.

It is a sign that your consciousness is returning to reality, and you will soon find yourself back in your bed, with the morning light shining on you from your balcony. Hyunjin, an invader in your mind, feels himself being pushed out– for he can not stay by your side beyond the bounds of your dream just yet. 

There is fear and uncertainty that peaks within you as you fight to stay asleep just a moment longer– but he is quick to calm you, kissing you one last time before you the sun’s rays shine down on you.

“I will find you again in the waking world, my heart,” he says, squeezing your hand in his before he starts to fade once more into shadow, “this, I promise.”

You rise with a start, blinking rapidly and lingering, unshed tears falling from your eyes as you raise your hand to your heart. Just as expected, it is morning now– the late spring sun is bright and warm, and birds chirp in delight as they welcome the dawn of a new day.

You frown, feeling the erratic thumb of your heart beneath your fingertips as the melancholy claws its way back around you, reminding you that it has not left. Your inner thighs are sticky and wet, you realize a short moment later, and for the first time, you blush.

And then you giggle– and the melancholy, though ever present, now has a weaker grasp. You wonder, as you rise from the bed and prepare for your day, how long it will take for Hyunjin to find you. Days, weeks, months? 

You hope it is soon– but if it is not, you know what you will do. Every night, when you blow out the candles and fall asleep, you will call to him. You’ll invite him back into your mind, greet him with a soft kiss, and revel in his tender touch.

You will make love, you will smile, and you will talk of the future with greater enthusiasm than you have ever known– for he is your destiny, your truest love, your one and only immortal Vampyr. Ever-eternally.

[scuderiahalf]

wild child — daniel ricciardo

pairing. platonic!daniel ricciardo x verstappen!f1a driver!fem!reader

summary. your uncle has another thing coming if he thinks you’ll idly sit there and take whatever he throws at you. alternatively, the story of how jos verstappen got his shit rocked by a sixteen-year-old girl. 1.6k

warnings. description of injury, referenced physical violence, themes of domestic and child abuse, mention of jos verstappen

masterlist.

.

Daniel watched with a wary smile as you joked around with your Prema teammates across the way. Dino said something that had Ollie covering your ears while jokingly scolding the other boy. You elbowed Ollie in the side and pointed at Kimi, probably complaining that you were less than a year younger than the Italian.

You were acting completely normal. Everything seemed fine and normal and totally cool. You gave no hint that anything was out of the ordinary, that anything was wrong. You smiled just as you always did.

But Daniel couldn’t ignore the swelling of your cheek, the bruise under your eye, the split of your lip.

Prema’s statement about the state of your face had said that you had gotten into a physical altercation that you had not instigated and that the perpetrator had been dealt with as necessary. Daniel had a really bad feeling about who said perpetrator was.

The VCARB driver wet his lips. He had to say something. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t. You needed to know you had people you could go to. You needed to hear it spoken plainly. He needed to extend a hand, whether or not you took it.

This wasn’t something he could sit in regret with. Daniel already regretted never saying anything to Max, never asking the important questions back when Max had still been skinny and ruddy-faced.

Daniel still didn’t know the full story there. He’s sure if he did, he should never be allowed in a room with Jos Verstappen ever again.

Daniel hated to see history repeating itself. He hated seeing Jos look at you like he looked at Max, like you were some prized race horse purpose-bred to win. Like you could win the Formula One World Drivers’ Championship and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Daniel didn’t know everything about Max and his father but he knew how Max acted, knew how he thought of himself, knew how his childhood still affected him today.

Daniel didn’t want that for you. If he could help you in any way, he had to try.

He caught you in Red Bull hospitality later in the weekend, when you were separated from the other Prema kids and eating lunch while scrolling on your phone.

“Y/N/N!” he greeted you with false enthusiasm. “Can I sit with you?”

You just smiled amusedly. “Knock yourself out, Ric.”

You and Daniel had always gotten on.

Before you got serious about racing and moved to Holland to live with your uncle, Daniel had only heard mention of you as Max’s favorite cousin. Starting two years ago, you had been making more and more appearances in the paddock as your relocation to Europe had given Max easy access to take you on field trips to various Grand Prix.

You had been uncharacteristically funny for a fourteen-year-old. Not in a mean or sarcastic way but genuinely funny with jokes and stories always ready to go. Daniel had liked you from the first time you had met.

Now, you were sixteen and you looked so much older but when Daniel looked at you, all he could see was that scrawny fourteen-year-old kid who had to have ten kilos of lead welded to her seat to meet the karting weight requirement.

Every time he looked too hard at the cut on your lip or the persistent redness of your right cheek, he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt that funny, lovable little kid, or the young woman you were becoming who was still so full of life and humor.

“Daniel? You good? Do I have something on my face? Besides the obvious.”

Daniel forced out a laugh. “No. No, you’re fine. I was just wondering… How did you get that shiner?”

“Lost a fight with a revolving door. They’re vicious creatures, I tell ya.”

Daniel didn’t laugh. He barely managed a polite smile.

“Wow, tough crowd—yeah, it was Jos. I know that’s what you’re asking.”

You had always called your uncle that: Jos. Just Jos. Never Uncle Jos. Or Oom Jos, or however it would be said it in Dutch.

Your verbal detachment from your uncle didn’t make it any easier to stomach the thought of the man hitting you. Was this the first time? Had he done it before? How often? How severely? How had no one noticed?

“Y/N,” Daniel started, trying to approach the subject as gently as he originally planned, “You know you have so many people who care about you and would never want to see you kept in an unsafe environment? You have people you can turn to if you need help. Max, me, the people at Prema—“

“Did Max not tell you what happened? I figure he would have told you the story already. It’s pretty hilarious, in hindsight.”

What about this situation could ever be construed as hilarious? Daniel would admit he had a bad habit of making everything into a joke but this was a step too far, even for him.

“Y/N, I’m being serious. If Jos is hurting you, it has to be taken care of.”

“Believe me, I took care of it.”

Daniel just looked at you.

“Max really hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“So, I made that post about pride month on the first, right? Just ‘happy pride month’ in the caption of my insta post? Well, Jos decided that he wouldn’t have that under his roof and when I called him a ‘homophobic wife beater,’ he slapped me. Backhanded me, actually.”

Daniel was still failing to find even the slightest bit of humor in your story.

“So, I beat the shit out of him.”

Daniel blinked. “You what.”

“I beat the—I don’t know how else you want me to say it.”

“I’m not understanding…”

“He put his hands on me, so I rocked his shit. Kicked him in the dick. Slammed his face into the kitchen counter and broke his nose. Probably bruised a rib or two.

“He’s at home nursing his pride, I’m pretty sure. I’ve been staying with Max in Monaco ever since. It’s a real ‘you should see the other guy’ situation.”

Daniel thought he was having an aneurysm. His brain couldn’t decide if he should continue to insist that you could leave your unsafe home life or if he wanted to feed into the inarguably hilarious mental images of Jos Verstappen getting beat up by a sixteen-year-old girl.

The internal battle must have shown on his face because you said, “You can laugh. It’s pretty funny.”

No. No, he needed to be an adult and not feed into your interpretation of the events being funny. It wasn’t funny that Jos raised a hand to you. It wasn’t funny that you had to defend yourself from a grown man you were meant to be able to trust.

But then Daniel couldn’t stop imagining a semi-cartoonish version of your uncle curled on the ground, blood pouring from his nose as you stand above him, laughing maniacally with a foot on Jos’ side like a big game hunter.

“It’s not funny,” he barely managed to get out before he started laughing along with the triumphant caricature of you in his mind.

The you that sat across from him grinned. “No, it is 100% funny. He obviously didn’t know anything about me whatsoever if he thought I’d just let him get away with that. He started that fight, and I ended it.”

Daniel just laughed harder. You grinned even wider.

“No—it’s not funny! I swear, it’s really not.” Daniel collected himself as best he could, tried to look at you seriously. “Y/N, you can’t keep living with him. He can’t keep managing you.”

“I know. Prema’s already worked it out. They’ve found me a new manager and I’m staying with Max; he’s helping set me up in an apartment in his building.

“My mom is furious. She had to be escorted out of the hospital when she flew in to talk to Jos. She might have broken his nose a second time. I don’t know. I wasn’t there, unfortunately. Jos isn’t allowed within a hundred meters of me until I’m 18.”

That guilty, worried part of Daniel that had started festering as soon as he had read Prema’s statement about your altercation finally laid itself to rest. Everything was handled. You were safe.

“Y/N, I—“

Daniel didn’t really know how to put into words just how relieved he was. He didn’t know how to say how much he cared about you, how glad he was that you had gotten out of what could have been a terrible situation.

“I know.”

Luckily, you understood. Daniel didn’t have to stumble over the words. That was another thing about you that Daniel adored: you were intuitive.

“I’m talking through it with my therapist. But I’ll be fine. I feel fine. I’m not going to let Jos ruin me before my career’s even really started. I’ve still got a season of F1 Academy to win.”

Daniel had a feeling you were telling him this not because you needed someone to talk to but because you knew it was what he needed to hear. Relief settled even further onto his shoulders.

“Spoken like a true Verstappen,” he joked.

“My last name is L/N.”

“You still belong to the Verstappen clan.”

You giggled. “I hail from House Verstappen.”

“Exactly. Just like Game of Thrones.”

You fall into easy laughter alongside Daniel.

You were laughing. Your bruises would fade and you would remain unchanged. You would race later that day and continue leading your championship just as your cousin led his.

Ultimately, you were undamaged. You were safe.

And you also had one hell of a story to write a memoir about in thirty years.

[luxcuriousao3]

Fevered Mistakes

Summary: Ghost, a formidable Alpha, is captured and dosed with rut inducers. You are the omega he's tossed into a cell with. WC: 3429 Warnings: a/b/o, graphic nonconsensual sex, nonconsensual drugging, unprotected PIV sex, referenced torture/experimentation, blood, vomit, death, hurt no comfort, background ghoap, POV switches denoted by triple asterisks (***) Notes: Based off the first half of this post that I made a bit ago. Ngl, I don't really like how this one turned out, but y'all were begging for it so, so I feel bad just letting it rot in my google docs lol. There are two scrapped versions of a second chapter that would make this fic farrrrr less angsty, but idk if I'm ever gonna continue this, so I'm treating this like it's a one-shot with the warnings. If I ever do post a continuation, it will be linked on my masterlist, so you can check for it there. And hey, maybe if y'all share your thoughts about this in my inbox or whatever, it might entice the brainworms again lol. Taglist: @captainsherlockwinchester110283

There was a girl in the cell.

She was small and soft in the way that almost all omegas were, though it was her scent that really gave her status away. Sweet and alluring but soured by fear, it invaded his nostrils and made him all the more dazed. The blow to his head, the one that had landed him in this situation, would have been hard enough to kill him, had he not been an Alpha.

He’d been sloppy. Let his feelings for Johnny get in the way of procedure. But seeing his beta, laid out on the floor, bleeding from his head, still as a corpse… he couldn’t have controlled himself if he tried. And at that point, he hadn’t wanted to try.

He’d gotten distracted, and he’d paid the price.

It had been three days since he'd been captured, by his best estimate. It was hard to measure, between the head injury and being kept in a room with no windows. All he had to go off of was how often someone came in to torture him for information. He never gave any up, of course. Even compromised, he never would. He'd been trained far better than that.

Still, he wasn’t in very good shape. Beaten to hell and back, his head scrambled… his feet dragged uselessly as he was pressed up against the bars, one of his captors unlocking the cuffs on his wrists while the other two kept him restrained. The fourth jammed a syringe into his neck, injecting him with some unknown substance. Ghost tried to break free, to throw a punch or a kick, anything, but his reflexes were sluggish, his thoughts painfully slow. All he succeeded in doing was annoying them, and he got an elbow to the back of his neck for the trouble.

He was no omega, couldn’t be immobilized by a simple scruffing, but fuck if that shit didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He collapsed to the concrete floor of the cell with an animalistic howl, and the sourness in the omega’s scent spiked, her heart rate speeding up. Ghost couldn’t find it in himself to care—the very last of rational thought was beginning to abandon him as the pain spread from the back of his neck throughout his entire body, growing unbearable as it reached his groin. He felt like there was fire raging just beneath his skin, and his senses sharpened as his dark gaze locked onto the wide-eyed omega curled up in the corner, neck cracking unsettlingly with the speed at which he turned. He had time for only one more thought before instincts took over, his heart dropping out his arse as dread turned the blood in his veins to ice before it began to boil all over again.

Rut inducers.

***

When you woke up, you were escorted to the cell in which you spend your heats. That confused you, since your next heat wasn’t supposed to be for another month at least.

It also terrified you.

Though you didn’t remember much of what happened during your heats, you did remember the pain. The desperate, burning need for an Alpha’s knot, and the aching, gaping emptiness when you were denied it, the only thing that could bring you any relief. This cell held nothing but bad memories, and you didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

But you had no choice. For as long as you could remember, you did as you were told, the way a good omega should. In your sleep, you thought maybe you saw glimpses of a time when things were different, when there were no scientists in white coats and men and women in military uniforms controlling your life. But you knew those were just dreams. None of it was real.

You sat on the thin mattress in the cold, dank cell for hours before something finally happened that could explain why you were there. A man was brought in—massive and with a terrifying skull mask on his face—and you barely had to take a whiff of him as he was shoved into your cell with you to know that he was an Alpha. There was that familiar smell of damp, scorched earth after a lightning strike, and you knew from the intensity of it that he was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. The very air reeked of electricity and burning plastic, overwhelming any hint of his natural scent. This was an Alpha that was ready to rip, rend, tear, kill. And you were stuck alone in a cell with him.

“Не сопротивляйтесь,” one of the uniformed men told you, expression entirely unsympathetic. It was almost worse than the look of sadistic, scientific glee on the face of the white coat next to him. “Ты сделаешь только хуже.”

Don’t fight back. You’ll only make it worse.

Your eyes widened, and you barely had a chance to shake your head before the unfamiliar Alpha was on you, grabbing your ankle in a brutal grip and dragging you away from the corner you’d curled up in. You screamed in pain as you felt the bone snap like a twig under his large palm, instinctively hitting your hands against his broad chest as you tried to fight him off. If you had been in heat, you wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have even felt the pain from him breaking you, would have spread your legs and begged him to knot you. But you weren’t, and so your survival instincts overtook those of your omega. You knew you would be punished later for disobeying, but at the moment, you didn’t care. Anything was better than being knotted by the feral Alpha on top of you. He would maul you to death while he fucked you, you just knew it.

The Alpha grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. The other ripped your shirt off, causing your back to arch and your tits to spill out of your bra. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and letting out a satisfied growl. You tried to headbutt him, and he snarled in your face, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing tight enough to make your vision go black around the edges in less than ten seconds. By the time you caught your breath and were able to think again, his hands were busy yanking down your pants and underwear in one harsh tug. You let out a hoarse shriek of fear, flipping onto your belly to try and crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in your shattered ankle. But that was your fatal mistake. His beefy palm met the back of your neck, fingers digging in as he lifted you slightly by it, his other hand coming around to roughly grope your breasts.

And you stopped.

You stopped moving, stopped screaming, you nearly stopped breathing. You were limp as a ragdoll as he scruffed you, utterly and completely paralyzed. You could do nothing but take it as he shoved your face into the dirty concrete, pried your legs apart, and forced himself inside you. You could feel the agonizing pain as his cock practically tore you in half, could feel the ice cold fear freezing every cell of your body, could feel his blunt nails digging into the ultra-sensitive skin of your nape. You could feel everything. But you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

It seemed to go on forever, and yet take no time at all. One second, you were pliant and supine beneath the Alpha as he pounded into you, his weight constricting your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. The next, the restrictive grip on your neck was gone, replaced by a sharp pain at the junction of it and your shoulder as his teeth sunk into your flesh. Into your mating gland. Your own screams were echoing in the tiny cell, now, no longer confined to your head.

“M’sorry, M’sorry, M’sorry,” a rough, wet voice chanted in your ear. It was the Alpha, speaking to you in English. You could understand it, even if you couldn't speak it. He was still on top of you, still inside you, his knot stretching you far beyond your limits. And yet he was… apologizing? You stopped screaming in your confusion, the terrified screeching replaced by the sound of your heaving sobs.

“M’sorry, M’so sorry, they dosed me, M’sorry,” the Alpha continued, voice slurred. You struggled to focus on his words, distracted by the liquid you could feel dripping down your thighs. It was probably blood, you realized distantly. His knot wouldn’t have let any of his seed escape. That’s what it was there for.

That, and to keep you from running.

The Alpha’s voice grew more and more gravelly as his knot began to deflate, his apologies interrupted by grunts as he began to move his hips again, thrusting in and out of you shallowly. You whined, clawing at the floor, trying to wriggle free, but he just settled nearly his entire weight on top of you.

“Don’ fight,” he growled, and you could tell from the strain in his voice that he was at least trying to resist his instincts. It didn’t make you feel any better, especially not when his fingers inched closer and closer to your nape again. “Don’t, or m’gonna have to— fuck, I don’t— fuckin’ be a good omega an’ take it— m’sorry, fuck— don’t fuckin’ fight me—”

You were still sobbing, shrieking like a dying thing with every quick, brutal snap of his hips against yours. Too out of it from being scruffed, you missed the warning in his jumbled plea threat, continuing to struggle underneath him. You felt your ribs crack as he pressed the rest of his considerable weight onto you, and the strangled, stuttering gasp that left your throat was the kind of sound that belonged in a horror film.

The Alpha seemed to think so too, as he moaned in a horrid mixture of pleasure and abject misery before he scruffed you again. You went still, once more trapped in your own body. It was the worst sensation you’d ever felt, worse than the experiments the white coats ran on you, worse than your punishments, worse than your heats spent alone. Worse than the shattered ankle or broken ribs, worse even than the feeling of him ripping you apart from the inside. You were always helpless and vulnerable, being an omega, but this… when you were scruffed, you were no longer a person. You were just an object, to be used as your Alpha saw fit.

Your Alpha.

The man on top of you—who was knotting you for the second time now—was your Alpha. He’d claimed you, the pain in your shoulder was proof of that. You would wear his mark forever, now. You would belong to him for the rest of your life.

You prayed that it was short.

Your Alpha released his painful grip on your nape again, but you didn’t try to get away this time. You were far too disoriented. Being scruffed once was bad enough, but twice in as many minutes? You could easily go into shock from that. You probably were in shock, but you didn't panic, feeling too distant and floaty. The ice in your veins was numbing you from the inside. That was nice… you leaned into it, letting your blankly staring eyes flutter shut—

“Omega!”

Your eyes snapped back open and you whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself. That only caused pain to flare up all over your body, the burning between your legs as you tugged on his knot pulling another scream from you.

“Stay still,” the same harsh voice ordered, and your instincts forced you to obey. The command was a little more collected this time, a little more coherent, even if he was still groaning and slurring.

“Don' move,” your Alpha panted, each word sounding like it was dragged out of him. He started to fuck you once more. “Don’— don’ wanna scruff you ‘gain.”

You didn’t have it in you to be grateful. Didn’t have it in you to be sympathetic to his situation either, not while he was still rutting into you like an animal.

They dosed me, he’d said. You wished they’d dosed you. At least then you wouldn't feel the pain…

***

Simon had never hated being an Alpha more than in that moment.

Bollocks deep in a pretty little omega, one already stuffed full of his come and wearing his mark… he wished fervently that this was just another of his nightmares, the ones that stuck with him like a bad smell even after escaping Roba.

Between the disorientation from his forced rut and the nasty head injury, he almost let himself believe that it was. If it was a dream, he could give in, and he wouldn’t actually be hurting anyone. He could just ride it out, come in trousers wherever he was sleeping, and hopefully, it would end faster.

But her screams were far too real.

She wailed like she was being flayed alive as she struggled underneath him, and his Alpha—after being denied a partner for his ruts for over a decade—was brutal and swift in its response. Scruffing her like a scrappy mutt, growling in pleasure at the way she submitted to him—the way she was forced to submit to him.

It was nearly impossible to think around how fucked his head was—by instinct and injury both—but after he'd knotted her for the second time, he was able to act a little more like the trained soldier he was, and not like a panicked civvie.

He didn’t argue with himself any longer. He accepted the reality of the situation as it was. He was in rut. He was trapped with an omega. He had brutalized and claimed her. If he kept focusing on trying to stop himself altogether, he was going to kill her. He needed to give up on that and instead just try to minimize the damage.

Starting with stopping her from going into shock, and then stopping her from fighting back. It only made his Alpha all the more eager to dominate her—by any means necessary.

It sickened Simon that that part of him existed. Deep down, he feared that it always had. That Roba hadn’t created it, back in the desert. That he’d just unearthed it. All of Simon’s evilness, all his wicked desires…

It was why he’d never taken an omega before. Never even let himself date one, back when that was something he did.

Johnny was perfect, in that way. In many ways, really, but him being a beta—it soothed Simon’s fears. The fears that were being proved true.

He didn’t know how long passed before the rut inducers wore off. It had to have been hours. The omega—his omega—was still facedown on the ground when he pulled out of her for the last time. She was bleeding from where he’d bitten her, and where he’d bred her, his cock drenched in her blood, her own thighs stained with a mix of it and his come.

Simon threw up at the sight. He told himself it was just from the head injury.

He was naked, except for his mask, which was pushed up past his nose. He didn't remember taking off his trousers, though he recalled that his shirt had been cut to shreds the first day of his captivity by his torturer. He didn’t remember a lot of his mini-rut, as was common when it was induced. But the evidence of what he’d done was right in front of him. The omega—not mine, not my omega, not mine—was clad in nothing but the scraps of her clothes. Her side, hips, wrists, and the back of her neck were bruised. Her ankle was bent at a funny angle. A small patch of hair near her nape was missing, leaving her scalp red and raw. Simon looked at his hands, and found the strands woven between his fingers.

She didn’t move.

Simon pulled his mask into position and Ghost took over. He moved towards the girl, feeling for a pulse. She flinched violently when he touched her neck, and he felt relief—and guilt—reverberate through him. Ghost was good at ignoring his feelings, though.

“S’over,” he told her, voice gruff. “S’done now. Promise.”

The omega didn’t acknowledge his words, just kept her shoulders tucked up by her ears, guarding her neck. Ghost didn't protest, simply felt along her spine for any breaks. He didn’t find any, so he carefully rolled her over.

Her breasts were red and raw, nipples bleeding from being scraped back and forth across the floor. There was a hand shaped bruise around her throat, and petechiae in the whites of her glassy eyes. Ghost ignored his horror at the sight, and began to palpate her ribs. She inhaled sharply when he touched the eighth and ninth ones, a pitiful, pained whine escaping her.

The ribs were probably fractured, if not broken. The bruising above them was clue enough. There was another massive bruise low on her belly, and Ghost swore. Internal bleeding. He may have actually fucked this poor omega to death. There was no way she survived the night if she wasn't treated soon.

He got his pants and trousers on, hoping it would help her believe the worst was over, and then got to work doing what he could—wrapping her ribs with the dirty blanket in the corner, and holding the scraps of her shirt between her legs to try and stem the bleeding there. It wasn't enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He didn’t even know if it was really worth the discomfort it caused her—but he couldn't bring himself to just let her die. She was his omega.

Not mine, not mine, not mine.

He talked to her as she faded. Tried to keep her awake with the sound of his voice, though he knew it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. He told her stories from his childhood—the few good ones there were—told her the plot of the last film he and Johnny had watched, told her about Johnny. That was the topic he lingered on the longest. It was far easier to talk about his beta than himself. And by the time her eyes slipped closed and her shallow breathing stopped, it was Simon that was holding her, not Ghost, despite the mask on his face.

It was Simon that watched her die.

It was Simon that realized he didn't even know her name.

And it was Simon that howled with grief and rage, clutching the broken body of the omega—my omega, my omega, mine—against his chest.

Footsteps rapidly approached the cell, and Simon snarled like a rabid animal as he turned towards the bars. He barely had a second to pull his omega—dead, dead, dead, she was mine and I killed her, she was innocent and I killed her—behind him before a familiar voice rang out. The only voice that could have possibly reached him in this state, that could stop him from giving into his instincts completely and going feral.

“Simon?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, sounding desperate and broken. He felt broken. This little omega had managed to do what Roba and a hundred others had failed at. And she hadn't even tried.

“Let us help her, Si,” Johnny coaxed, moving closer while Price and Gaz hung back. Wise, because Simon could barely keep himself from baring his teeth at his own beta. Johnny didn't back down. “Si. Let us help her.”

Simon hesitated for a long moment, fighting his overwhelming instincts, before moving away. Johnny rushed in, immediately checking the omega’s pulse and starting compressions when he couldn’t find it. Simon tried to struggle to his feet, but he nearly fell over, Gaz and Price catching him. He snarled, weakly pulling away from them, but they held fast.

“We got you, soldier,” Price’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Stand down.”

Simon slumped, unable to hold himself up anymore, all his injuries catching up to him.

“I killed her,” he whispered raggedly, eyelids falling shut. He felt Gaz shake him to try and keep him awake, but he simply didn't have the willpower, anymore. “She was mine and I killed her.”

The mantra rang in his head even as he lost consciousness, and her screams of pain and the look of fear on her face as she lay dying followed him into his dreams.

-

less angsty ending