#ANYWAY I'M BEING GOOD!!! I'M STAYING STRONG!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchywithwhiskey · 1 month ago

Text

something brutal and beautiful

pairing: father's old friend!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!female reader

summary: when your car breaks down on the way to your parents' cabin, Bucky Barnes comes to your rescue. you end up staying in the unfamiliar alpha's cabin longer than you expected, with his far-too-enticing scent driving your omega wild. then, the atmosphere in the cabin shifts suddenly and the tension that's been building finally snaps.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU elements (heat/rut, knotting, presenting, purring, mating, scenting), unspecified age gap, dad's best friend trope, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m), biting/marking, tit/nipple play, finger sucking, come play, panty sniffing, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names (alpha & omega, baby), begging, teasing, possessive behavior, happy ending

word count: 9k

a/n: here's my week 3 entry for @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer event! y'all voted for older alpha Bucky Barnes, and i'm oh so happy to deliver him 🤭 this fic ended up being so much longer than i originally intended, but i just loooved drawing out Bucky and reader's torture. (also can y'all believe this is only the second omegaverse fic i've written?? should i write more???) anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

prompt: “Not now!” | [Heat/Rut | Rushed Sex | Exhibitionism]

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

It had been a long and brutal week.

The only thing that could have made it longer and more brutal was if you’d gone into heat. But thankfully, your omega’s schedule had always been extremely punctual, and you weren’t due for another couple of weeks. Still, you’d been struggling.

You’d spent the week in a cabin tucked deep into the forest of the Adirondacks, staying in the home of your father’s friend, Bucky Barnes. The entire time, you’d been on edge and frustrated beyond belief. Not because the older alpha had done or said anything to make you uncomfortable.

It was his scent.

Bucky smelled like fresh air and earthy moss, with an undertone of something warm, like leather. You’d never scented anything so delectable, and it had been driving you wild all week.

That very first inhale had sent sparks of delight popping and fizzling through your bloodstream, settling pleasantly between your thighs in a thrumming heat. And it hadn’t stopped being an overwhelming distraction ever since.

To make matters worse, your father’s friend was devastatingly handsome.

Even if he hadn’t smelled as good as he did, your body would’ve responded to his crystal blue eyes and the rugged dark scruff, with just a hint of gray, on his sharp jaw. His hair was a little long, meaning he had to push it back with his strong fingers, making the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex beneath his black t-shirt.

It had taken every ounce of your self-control not to make a fool of yourself in front of Bucky when he’d picked you up on the side of the road, where you were stranded about a hundred miles northwest of Albany.

Your omega instincts had screamed at you to climb Bucky like a tree, but instead, you’d shyly waved hello and tried to pretend you weren’t affected by the older alpha who smelled far too delicious.

However, things only worsened when you got in his truck.

It was clear that Bucky’s scent had been embedded in every soft surface of his old pickup, and getting into the cab had felt like submerging yourself in fresh air, rich moss and warm leather. Your body was helpless to the alpha’s lingering smell, buzzing to life, an ache blooming between your thighs.

Even as you’d felt yourself getting turned on, you’d also felt inexplicably safe. The moment settled into the worn passenger seat, you felt the anxiety that had been plaguing you since Poughkeepsie drain from your shoulders, before disappearing entirely.

The longer you breathed in Bucky’s scent, the more the warmth in your body morphed into an intense arousal, like nothing you’d ever experienced before. It was so strong, you’d had to press your thighs together and squirm in his passenger seat as inconspicuously as possible, trying to stave off the building ache in your core.

Once you’d buckled your seatbelt with trembling fingers, Bucky had asked if you were alright, waiting for your answer before he pulled back onto the road. You’d mumbled that you were fine even as heat filled your cheeks.

You’d focused on staring down at your fingers tangled in your lap, reminding yourself why you couldn’t reach across the truck for him. He was your father’s friend, he was just helping you, he was practically a stranger—and you had no idea if he was reacting to your scent the way you were to his.

But as he drove you to his cabin, Bucky asked about the circumstances that led to you being stranded on the side of the road. You hadn’t wanted to be rude, but you’d kept your answers short. You didn’t trust yourself when you were surrounded so thickly by his scent, you might accidentally ask him to mount you in the backseat.

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem bothered by your quick, murmured answers. His tone remained patient and low as he asked you question after question until he got the full, embarassing story out of you.

You’d been on your way to your parents’ cabin, which was set on the same lake in upstate New York as Bucky’s, when your car had started making a terrible crunching sound. You’d already made it out of the city, though, and you hadn’t wanted to turn back, so you’d kept driving.

That, of course, had been a mistake.

Somewhere deep in the forest of the Adirondacks, your car had given up, puttering out immediately after you’d pulled onto the cracked asphalt of the narrow shoulder. With nothing around but the thick forest encroaching on the road, you hadn’t recognized where you were, and you’d been forced to call your parents and confess everything to them.

It wasn’t just that you’d gotten yourself stranded somewhere between Albany and the lake, you also had to tell them your reasons for deciding, on a whim, to visit the cabin in the first place.

You’d been laid off from your job in the city, you were fighting with your roommate over whether to stay in your apartment in Brooklyn, the city in the summer was too hot and suffocating. Everything was just too much, and you’d needed a break.

As they tried to comfort you about everything going wrong in your life, you couldn’t help but feel like your life had gone completely off course. You figured you might as well be stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere New York, since that was exactly how you felt in life—stuck, without having any idea where to go.

You tuned back into the conversation when your parents relayed the bad news: they weren’t at their cabin like you’d thought they’d be. They weren’t even in New York. They were staying with some friends out west, and they hadn’t been to the cabin all summer, so they hadn’t opened it up like they normally did at the start of the season.

That had been when you’d really started crying. You began bawling your eyes out with only the creatures of the forest and the whispering wind dancing through the leaves to hear you. It was almost cathartic, if you could ignore the dire straits you’d found yourself in.

The sun was beginning to set, and fear started to creep in that you might end up having to walk to a strange town in the dark. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d passed any sign of civilization. All you could think about was how there were too many horror movies that began with an omega in exactly your situation.

At that point, with both your parents trying desperately to get you to calm down, your father had gruffly suggested he call his old friend Bucky Barnes. You’d hardly listened while your parents conferred about that idea, then your mother continued trying to soothe you while your father called his friend.

You’d wracked your brain for any memory of the older alpha, recognizing his name, but came up with nothing. You couldn’t even recall whether he’d ever attended one of the parties your parents had thrown at their cabin while you’d been growing up and in college.

You’d asked your mother if you’d ever met him before and she’d said something vague about Bucky not being particularly sociable. He and your father were fishing buddies, she’d explained, but that was all she’d said before you heard your father’s voice in the background, telling you to wait right where you were. Bucky was on the way.

When you’d finished telling your story to Bucky, you were grateful he didn’t scold you for getting yourself stranded, or lecture you about the dangers of being an unmated omega lost somewhere in the Adirondacks. He’d only confirmed that the two of you had never met before, and offered you a reassuring smile.

Between Bucky’s low, rumbling voice, that gentle smile on his handsome face, and the scent of him surrounding you like a blanket, you’d felt calm and safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

You were so comfortable, in fact, that you ended up falling asleep while he continued driving, your mind and body exhausted from the stress of the day and the last few weeks.

It wasn’t until you’d arrived at his cabin that you woke, the sun having slipped behind the trees as dusk fell.

Bucky carried your bags inside while you stumbled after him, taking deep breaths of the fresh forest air before ducking inside the cabin, where his scent was ingrained in every inch of the wooden structure. It was everywhere, and you realized you’d missed it in the short time you’d been outside.

The delightful buzzing pleasure of that smell settled inside your head once again, sparks and tingles spreading through your body. With Bucky distracted by taking your bags into the guest room, you’d inhaled deeply, letting his smell relax you. And if you’d gotten more than a little turned on, too…Well, that you ignored as you took stock of the cabin.

The house was set into the gentle slope that led down to the lake, with big windows to let in plenty of light. It allowed those inside to feel like they were immersed in the beautiful green foliage of the trees pushing up against the sides of the cabin.

It was bigger inside than you’d expected for a lone alpha like Bucky. The cabin had a big, open living room and kitchen space that gave way to a hallway leading to a guest room, an office, a bathroom and a master bedroom. All of them were big and roomy, even as the cabin felt cozy and homey.

Once you were settled in the guest room, with a gorgeous view of the yard leading down to the dock and the lake, Bucky made you dinner and gave you even more bad news: your parents’ cabin wasn’t habitable yet. He’d explained it would only take a few days to get the power and water running, then you could go over and air it out.

But the next morning, while Bucky was on the phone with the power company, he’d learned there was a downed line that only served your parents’ cabin. The company had put off repairing it because it hadn’t seemed like a priority, so it would take much longer than normal to restore power. He’d said you could stay with him until your parents’ cabin was ready.

You’d smiled tremulously and told Bucky it was fine. You’d thanked him for letting you stay with him, and asked if there was anything you could do around his cabin to help him out. You’d told him it was the least you could do while the two of you were trapped together.

But Bucky had shaken his head, a serious look on his face. He’d told you not to worry about helping out an old alpha like him. He’d said you should make yourself at home, choking on his words a little and needing to cough to clear his throat. Then he’d smiled, but you thought it looked a little strained.

After that, you and Bucky had done your best to keep your distance from each other.

You’d avoided him because every time he was near, all you wanted to do was bury your face in his neck, breathe in his scent and rub yourself against him like a desperate omega in heat. You went to bed every night feeling frustrated and woke up every morning feeling achy and needy, so you stayed away from the older alpha.

And Bucky had avoided you because…

Well, you weren’t sure why Bucky was avoiding you. If you had to guess, it was probably because he could tell what a mess you were and didn’t want to get involved. He was a mature, responsible alpha who’d chosen a solitary life in the woods, and you were an unmated omega who’d accidentally gotten yourself stranded in those woods.

You could understand why he wouldn’t want to be around you, even if it stung something in your heart and your omega hindbrain, both of which wanted to be close to him every moment of the day for some reason you couldn’t puzzle out.

After a week of staying in Bucky’s cabin, you’d found that the only way to avoid feeling like you were driving yourself up the walls was to stick to a schedule. You had breakfast while Bucky was getting ready for the day, then you waited for him to leave for work, and did everything you could to make sure you were never in the same room as him.

But then everything changed.

The Friday after you’d found yourself trapped in a cabin with the older alpha, you woke up as normal—feeling the near-constant desire flickering insistently between your thighs while you did your best to ignore it. It had been hard not to pleasure yourself in Bucky’s guest room, but you’d wanted to respect his home.

That morning, for some reason, it was harder than it had been to resist slipping your fingers between your thighs and rubbing yourself to release. You hadn’t gotten used to Bucky’s scent and it seemed to urge you on, but you kept your desire in check.

You chalked it up to the long, brutal week staying in Bucky’s cabin and forced yourself to get out of bed. It was early in the morning and you had Bucky’s routine memorized well enough that you knew you could slip out and make breakfast while he was getting ready to leave.

Normally, you would’ve been able to hear him in the shower and puttering around his room while he got dressed, but that morning, the cabin was curiously quiet. You didn’t think much of it as you made yourself some eggs and toast, and by the time you were done eating, you’d decided he must’ve left extra early that morning.

You were enjoying having the kitchen to yourself, sipping your coffee and reading a romance novel about a forbidden love between an older alpha and a younger omega, when you felt the energy in the cabin shift. Your body tensed, as if your omega instincts knew something your mind still hadn’t figured out.

Then Bucky’s scent hit you anew; its effects were immediate—and staggering.

A gasp tore from your lips, but you barely even heard it over the desire surging through your body. Bucky’s scent was suddenly somehow more potent, more delicious, making your mouth water with the urge to suck his cock.

Beneath the thin sleep shirt you wore, your nipples puckered almost painfully, your tits feeling heavy with the need to be groped, to be squeezed, to be sucked. And even that feeling paled in comparison to the thumping pulse between your thighs, your clit aching for attention as slick dripped from your slit, soaking your panties in seconds.

You whimpered pitifully, setting your coffee mug down with shaking hands, some of the brown liquid sloshing over the rim and spilling onto Bucky’s butcher block countertop. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the mess—not when you were overcome with a need that you instinctively knew only the older alpha could sate.

For a brief, panicked second, you worried you were going into heat. But your body felt different than it normally did when your heat was coming on. There weren’t any painful cramps in your lower belly as your body yearned for a knot, and, most tellingly, you didn’t feel like flames were licking beneath your skin.

You decided what you were feeling was something else, but you didn’t know what.

Your fingers gripped the edge of the kitchen island where you’d sat to eat your breakfast, nails digging so deep into the wooden grain that it was verging on painful. Your mind felt sluggish as you tried to figure out what was happening to you, but you kept getting distracted thinking about Bucky’s broad shoulders, and his scruffy jaw and his beautiful blue eyes.

Without you realizing it, your hips had begun to rock on the barstool you were perched on, your thighs spread wide so you could rub your pussy into the seat. With a desperate whine, you forced yourself to stop, your head hanging between your arms as breaths sawed in and out of your chest.

There was nothing else you could do—you had to find Bucky and hope he knew what was happening to you, and why his scent was so strong.

Your omega cheered at the thought of getting closer to Bucky, and you let those instincts guide you as you stumbled through the cabin.

Belatedly, you realized you were heading toward his bedroom, and it wasn’t until your hand was raising to knock on his door that you figured out you were wrong earlier—Bucky hadn’t already left, he’d still been in his room. Doing what, you had no idea.

Biting back a needy keening sound, you rapped your knuckles urgently on the door, trying to ignore the way your slick was leaking down your thighs. Your panties and sleep shorts were soaked with your juices, and the cotton was sticking to your warm skin so unpleasantly, you had the urge to yank them off, but you managed to fight against it.

“Not now!”

Bucky’s roared words sent a delicious shiver down your spine, making your nipples ache so badly for attention that your hand lifted and you began kneading one of your tits while your dazed mind struggled to process what the older alpha had said.

When you did, your head fell forward, hitting the door with a light thunk. A helpless sound slipped from your lips and your thighs pressed together as you squirmed in the hallway outside Bucky’s bedroom, your body making it impossible for you to heed the warning in the alpha’s tone.

“Please, alpha,” you sobbed, pressing yourself against the door and scratching at the wood helplessly with your nails. You hardly knew what you were begging for—whether you just wanted into Bucky’s room or if you were already pleading with him to fuck you. But you knew you needed something only he could give you.

There was a vicious grunt on the other side of the door, and your omega hindbrain read it as an invitation before you could even fully take in the sound. Acting on instinct, your hand fumbled for the doorknob and you pushed into Bucky’s room.

The sight that met you made you gasp sharply, your feet stumbling to a stop in the threshold of his room.

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed facing the door, his naked body bathed in the morning sunlight streaming in from the windows overlooking the lake. There wasn’t a stitch of clothing on the big alpha, and your eyes raked over him hungrily, unabashedly taking in the way his muscles bulged, veins snaking down his taut forearms.

There was a sheen of sweat on Bucky’s golden skin, and his big, broad shoulders were hunched. But even with his body curled the way it was, you could still see his thick, fat cock standing proud between his tree-trunk thighs.

The scent of him hit you again, almost making your eyes roll back in your head, but you refused to tear your gaze from the sight of Bucky’s cock. It was so perfect, it made you light-headed. And then you noticed Bucky was moving.

The older alpha had one massive hand fisted around his hard length, his grip punishing as he stroked his cock. The tip was an angry, flushed red as it leaked an endless stream of precum, which Bucky used to stroke himself, the soft, slick sounds resonating in the room.

It was only when a growl tore from Bucky’s throat that you glanced up at his face.

His handsome face was contorted in a mask of feral lust, his teeth bared and jaw ticking like he was grinding his teeth together. But his eyes—his blue eyes were wild and tortured, staring at you like you were his salvation and his ruination all at once.

“You shouldn’t be here, omega,” Bucky growled, his words so rough you could barely understand them. But once you did, your body trembled with rebellion.

Clinging to the edge of the doorframe, it took every ounce of your self-control not to drop to your knees and present yourself to the alpha. All you could think about was his cock filling your cunt, the base swelling with his knot as he fucked you until the two of you were nothing more than rutting animals.

Suddenly, you knew what was happening.

“Are you—are you going into rut?” you asked, the breathiness of your voice making you sound more excited than incredulous. In all your years as an omega, you’d never actually seen an alpha go into rut. It was rare, something that usually only happened between true matches…

“Can’t be,” Bucky rumbled, his voice dragging you out of your thoughts. “I’m too old for that.” He was still stroking his cock, grunts of pleasure slipping from his mouth like he couldn’t help himself. His shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath, as if trying to gather his wits, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Bucky’s shoulders went rigid, and something about watching his big body tense made your own inner muscles clench.

You cunt was throbbing between your thighs in time with your racing heart, and your thighs were so coated in slick, you distantly wondered if you’d start leaving a puddle in Bucky’s doorway.

But then the older alpha’s eyes flew open, pinning you where you stood with the intensity of his gaze.

“Omega,” Bucky groaned, the sheer hunger in his voice washing over you like a wave of warm water. His fist started stroking faster, and he made a choked, frustrated sound in his throat, like it wasn’t enough. Like nothing would be enough—except you.

Your feet carried you forward as if they had a mind of their own, your body drifting beyond the threshold of the room and closer to the grunting, growling alpha.

He looked magnificent, even hunched the way he was. The bright sunlight brought out the silver in his dark beard, and you wanted to bury your face right under his jaw, inhaling his scent while your rode his cock.

“You should go,” Bucky rumbled, trying to force some steel into his voice, but you could hear the desperation hidden behind the alpha’s bravado.

If he’d really wanted you to leave, he could’ve barked the order. But he hadn’t, leaving you able to disobey. So you drifted even closer, enticed by the scent of him and the sight of his big alpha cock.

You came to a stop in front of Bucky, standing just out of his reach. There, you wavered.

You didn’t want to take advantage of Bucky when he wasn’t in his right mind. Sure, there was a haze of lust that had settled thickly over your mind as well, and you hardly felt like you had full control of your body, but you were more lucid.

“Let me help you, Bucky,” you murmured pleadingly, ducking down a little and catching his eye. You kept your expression open and honest, showing the alpha your desire to help. “You’ve been so kind to me, I just want to help you in return.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say because Bucky reared back like you’d slapped him. His hand came to a rest at the base of his cock, fisting himself tightly where he his knot would inflate. Your cunt gave an answering squeeze at the sight, but you forced yourself to ignore the aching, desperate need in your body.

“No,” he roared, his face twisting into a furious expression. “They trusted me to take care of you, ‘m not going to take advantage of you—I’m not some savage alpha who ruts unwilling omegas.”

Bucky was spitting mad, the fury only managing to make him look even more gloriously handsome, and it took you a moment to understood what he’d said.

“What if I want you to rut me?” you asked, the words tumbling from your lips before you could think better of them. But when they had the desired effect of softening the edges of Bucky’s anger, even if it was only replaced with confusion, you pressed on. “I’m ready and willing, Bucky, I want to see you through your rut—please.”

Following your instincts, you lifted the hem of your oversized sleep shirt, showing Bucky how your slick had drenched your shorts and was coating your thighs. You trailed your fingers through the wetness on your soft skin, then held your hand out to the alpha, letting him see the way your slick glistened in the bright morning sunlight.

“We shouldn’t—I shouldn’t,” Bucky ground out through his clenched jaw, but there was a clearer tone of a desperation in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

His eyes were flicking between your slick-coated fingers and your eyes, his fist working his cock again. You let your hand drift closer to Bucky’s face, letting him scent the arousal in your juices, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

With a furious grunt, he continued speaking.

“I shouldn’t rut your sweet pussy until my knot’s buried deep in your cunt and you’re soaking my balls with your scent—fuck,” he growled, roughly working his cock between his thick thighs. “Your scent, baby, it’s been driving me wild. I can’t—I shouldn’t…”

Taking a tentative step closer, you dragged your fingers through the slick between your thighs again and held them out to Bucky, waving them in front of his mouth, below his nose, making him smell you.

“I want this, Bucky,” you promised. But even as you said the words, you worried it wouldn’t be enough, so you let the full truth spill from your lips. “I’ve wanted your knot since the second I got in your truck. Please, alpha, please rut me.”

Bucky lunged from the bed, moving so fast you barely had time to gasp before his big hands were catching you around the backs of your thighs and hauling you into his lap as he sat back down. One of his hands settled on your lower back, holding you in place, while the other circled your wrist and brought your fingers to his mouth.

The older alpha let out an obscene groan when he tasted your slick, the sound going straight to your clit and making a whine build in your throat.

Bucky licked your skin clean, his hot tongue snaking between your fingers and making you think about where else you’d like to feel it—on your neck, on your nipples, on the slit between your thighs…

“Alpha,” you whimpered, squirming on Bucky’s lap as you sought friction but found none. His cock was trapped between your belly and the softly padded muscle of his stomach, so far away from where you needed him that you whined sharply.

With a pop, Bucky pulled your fingers from his mouth, and for a brief, fleeting moment the two of you simply stared into each other’s eyes.

Bucky’s pupils were blown so wide they were blotting out nearly all of the blue in his eyes, and you could see the feral hunger of his alpha’s rut beginning to take over. Somehow, it only made him hotter, to see the older man so on the verge of losing control.

It called to the omega deep in your hindbrain, the part of you that wanted to be taken—to be rutted and knotted on an alpha’s cock until you were nothing more than base animal instinct. You could feel a wildness brewing in your chest, your breaths coming in sharp pants as you and Bucky hovered on the edge of something brutal and beautiful.

You didn’t know who kissed who first, all you knew was that the tension between you and Bucky snapped, and then his lips were crashing down on yours, and you were moaning as the taste of him exploded on your tongue.

The fresh air and earthy moss and warm leather made you feel like you were taking a deep breath of a forest breeze. You could taste your own slick, too, which only drove you more wild.

Bucky’s kiss was messy and filthy, all snapping teeth and untethered desire. There was no finesse to the way Bucky’s mouth claimed yours, it was pure alpha dominance. He was rough and uncompromising as his tongue plunged past your lips to devour your mouth, a harsh growl rumbling in his chest as his bearded jaw worked against yours.

All the while, you met Bucky’s ferocity with your own fierceness, sucking on his tongue and wringing a groan from the big alpha that had him kissing you even harder, bending you backwards until you hung suspended above his spread thighs.

The only thing that stopped you from toppling off his lap entirely were his hands pressed firmly against your back, holding you crushed to the softly padded muscle of his chest.

Your nails dug into Bucky’s broad shoulders, reveling in the way his skin was hot to the touch, matching the heat blooming and throbbing between your thighs. Your hips squirmed on Bucky’s lap until you felt the thick, hard length of his cock press into your core.

Even through your sleep shorts and panties, Bucky felt exquisitely perfect. His cock was hard and throbbing, his own precum mixing with the juices coating your skin.

Your scents were mingling and turning into something new—something that was so intoxicating it went straight to your head, making you achier and needier even as it gave you a sense of soul-deep satisfaction. You were too distracted, though, to think about what that meant.

A keening whine worked its way up your throat, and Bucky swallowed it down with an answering growl, like he felt it too—felt how perfect you were together. It made you cling to him harder, your hands sliding up his shoulders and burying your fingers in his soft brown hair.

The kiss broke just as suddenly as it started, with Bucky wrenching his mouth away from yours to tear at your sleep shirt. You helped him pull it over your head and then his mouth was on you again, his big hands roaming all over your bare skin.

Every graze of his roughened palms over the curves of your body had you moaning mindlessly into his mouth until he could barely kiss you anymore.

His mouth hovered close to yours and you both panted against each other’s lips, his groans blending with your breathy whimpers while he learned the feel of your body.

Bucky’s hands grabbed at your hips, pulling you deeper into his lap until your cunt was pressed flush to his cock through your clothes, leaving you to rock against his hardness while his hands wandered up your back, fingers tracing the vertebrae of your spine.

He brushed his thumbs teasingly against the sides of your tits, and when you keened pitifully, he relented and groped your soft mounds. A feral grin stole across his handsome face when he plucked at your nipples, pinching them between his fingers so harshly, he made you let out another desperate whine.

He kept playing with your tits until you were a writhing mess of need on his lap. Only when you were on the verge of tears did Bucky take pity on you.

“Get those shorts and panties off and present for your alpha,” Bucky growled, turning and tossing you down on top of the mussed blankets of his bed.

He got to his feet, towering over you and watching you while he pumped his cock in one hand. He stared down at you with so much hunger, it made your pussy clench, aching for his knot.

But you didn’t let the magnificent sight of the older alpha standing naked in all his brutal glory distract you for long, not when he’d issued an order that you were all too eager to follow.

With scrabbling fingers, you pushed your panties and shorts down over your hips, tearing them off your legs. Before you could toss them somewhere in the room, Bucky held out his free hand and you gave him the drenched mess of tangled fabric.

The older alpha brought the bundle to his face, pressing the soaked cotton right against his mouth and nose then taking a deep breath.

A rumbling growl echoed in his chest, the sound going straight between your thighs as you stared at the hottest thing you’d ever seen—Bucky inhaling the scent of your slick straight from your panties.

“I’ve been dreaming about your scent all week, baby,” he rumbled gruffly, his eyes at half mast as he continued stroking his cock, even more precum leaking from the tip. It was so hot, you were frozen where you were, unable to look away.

Bucky’s gaze was hazy and unfocused as he stared down at you, looking like he was completely undone, and it was your smell that had him looking that way. The knowledge of how much power your scent had over the alpha made your omega preen, a smirk fluttering around the corners of your mouth.

“Been thinking about burying my face in your sweet cunt and drowning in your scent,” he went on, like he was confessing his sins. “Been thinking about having you soak my beard with your slick and then fucking you so good you come on my knot—want to be so wrapped in your scent that I never get it out of my head.”

Your body clenched hard at Bucky’s words, a moan spilling from your lips as you felt more slick leak from your hole. You didn’t know how Bucky was holding himself together while going into rut when you were on the verge of losing it and demanding he knot you. But it reminded you of his order.

In a rush, you scrambled onto your hands and knees to get into position. You lowered your shoulders to the bed, burying your face in the blankets and breathing in his scent just as deeply as he’d done with your panties. Moss and leather swirled in your head, making you moan into the sheets.

Then you were arching your spine and pushing your ass high in the air. You presented your aching pussy to the older alpha, whining to get his attention. “Alpha, please!”

Bucky’s gaze sharpened and snapped to you, his eyes going molten hot when he saw how you were positioned on his bed, head down on the blankets, ass in the air, cunt on display for him. A lazy smile curled his lips and he dropped your panties and shorts to the floor, moving to you.

“Good omega,” Bucky purred, climbing onto the bed behind you, his big hands stroking over your ass and hips and thighs. “You look so pretty presenting for your alpha—you gonna be a good girl and help me through my rut, huh?”

A happy hum thrummed in your throat and you nodded, watching Bucky over your shoulder. He was transfixed by your body, his eyes following his hands as they roved over your curves. He grabbed big handfuls of your ass, kneading you so roughly, you could hear the quiet, wet sounds of your pussy lips pulling apart.

As he groped your ass, Bucky pressed his cock firmly against your pussy, so you could feel the hot, hard length of him against your soft, dripping folds. He rocked hard into you, holding your ass in place so you had nowhere to go while he was grinding his cock against your cunt, coating his shaft in your slick.

His eyes were growing more hazy and unfocused by the second, but before Bucky could go into full-blown rut, he wrenched his gaze away from the sight of his cock pressed against your pussy, and caught your eye over your shoulder.

“You sure about this, omega?” Bucky asked, his voice strong and steady even as you heard that undercurrent of desperation in his tone.

His eyes searched yours, and you could see the strain in his face. It was taking everything in him to stop himself from following his instincts so he could check on you.

“I can manage on my own if you want to stop,” he promised.

You couldn’t explain your body’s reaction to Bucky’s words, but the fact that he was still, even on the verge of going into rut, putting your needs above his own had heat licking beneath your skin. It was a pleasant, glorious warmth that wrapped around your heart and soul, making you even more sure about your decision.

“Please, Bucky, I want this so bad, you don’t even know,” you murmured pleadingly, arching your back and presenting yourself even more. You pushed against his hold to press back against his cock, reminding him of your eagerness. “I want you to fuck me, alpha, please.”

“Alright, alright, baby,” Bucky rasped, ducking down and capturing your lips in a quick brutal kiss before he was sitting up again. One of his hands grabbed your hip while the other fisted his cock and rubbed the head through your dripping folds. “Hold on then, ‘mega. Once ‘m inside you, I’ll go into full-on rut.”

Bucky’s eyes were dark, even in the bright light of the sunshine streaming into his bedroom, and you could sense him hesitating. He seemed stuck on the edge of pushing into you and finally—finally—satisfying the need burning through both your bodies.

You realized he needed another little push, something more than reassurance.

Reaching back, you wrapped your fingers around Bucky’s wrist, clinging onto the strong arm holding your hip. You gave him a squeeze and caught his eye when he looked at you in question.

You let a smirk curve your lips, his only warning for what was about to come out of your mouth.

“C’mon, old man,” you said, your voice cheeky and playful as you grinned up at Bucky. “Rut your omega good and hard, alpha—I can take it.” You gave him an insolent wink, and he finally snapped.

Bucky’s eyes burned into yours and a feral grin slashed across his face. “My omega,” he growled, right before thrusting into your pussy, burying his cock deep in your tight heat with one, brutal stroke.

A scream burst from your lips as pleasure detonated within you.

Bucky’s cock was so thick and hard inside you, filling you up so perfectly and making you stretch to accommodate his heavy length. The veins dragged exquisitely against your sensitive inner walls, the tip hitting a spot deep in your pussy.

It all set off sparks of delicious pleasure that went spiraling through your body. You gasped for air, barely knowing what was up or down, only your fingers around Bucky’s wrist and his cock buried in your cunt keeping you tethered to earth.

Above you, Bucky purred in satisfaction, pleased with the way your pussy wrapped around him tightly. And then you felt his rut take hold.

The alpha barely gave you a moment to adjust before he was pounding into you, his hips pulling back until only the head of his cock remained inside. Then he plowed forward, filling you up all over again and again and again.

You were helpless to the alpha, your body going weak and pliant in his hold, giving in to the ferocious power in Bucky’s thrusts.

All you could do was moan and mewl, your fingers still clinging to his wrist while he fucked you so hard and fast, your body and mind were lost in a dizzying, endless dance of pleasure.

“My omega—my beautiful, perfect omega,” Bucky growled, his words spilling from his mouth almost mindlessly. “So hot and wet for your alpha, baby, you’re squeezing my cock so tight. Ya want your alpha to rut you and knot your perfect cunt, don’t you, ‘mega?”

Bucky curled his body over yours, engulfing you in his heat and scent. His hand shifted from your hip, fingers tangling with yours and pressing it into the soft blankets next to your head.

Twisting your body, you grabbed Bucky’s beard and pulled him down for a kiss that was all nipping teeth and soothing tongues. It was brutal and beautiful in equal measure, just like the joining of your bodies.

“You want to be mine, don’t you, baby?” Bucky rumbled against your mouth, a self-satisfied smirk curling the corners of his lips.

“Yes, yes, god yes, alpha,” you cried, taking his pounding thrusts with your face half buried in his blankets.

With every stroke of his cock inside you, you could feel the beginning of his knot catching at the edge of your hole, making you whine and squirm dumbly beneath him. You needed him so badly, you babbled unthinkingly.

“Want you so bad, alpha, want you to split me open on your fat, alpha knot and claim me as yours—please, daddy!”

That last word, the one you’d only thought about in your most secret fantasies, slipped out so easily in the face of the overwhelming pleasure Bucky was giving you.

And even through the haze of your ecstasy, you felt his cock twitch inside you and hips stutter in their rhythm. Then he was moving faster and harder.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky growled, his mouth right next to your ear, his coarse beard tickling your neck. “Say that again, baby—call your alpha that filthy name again.”

“Daddy,” you cried, shoving your hips back to meet Bucky’s thrusts, stars bursting behind your eyes as the tip of him pounded into a spot deep inside you.

The growl that rumbled in his chest was pleased, and it urged you on, emboldened you to continue calling him that dirty word.

“Knot me, daddy,” you begged, your voice thin and pitiful, which only made Bucky fuck you harder with his cock. “Rut your omega’s pussy and fill me with your come—please, alpha, please, I need it!”

“Fuck, baby, you’re such a perfect omega for your alpha,” he rumbled, pressing messy kisses to your cheek and jaw before trailing down to your neck. “You’re gonna get daddy’s knot, ‘m gonna fill you up so good, baby.”

His filthy words were a promise that he sealed by scraping his teeth teasingly over your throat.

You tipped your head to the side, not even a little bit concerned that he could bite you, break skin, and cement a bond between the two of you even though you’d only met a week ago.

You weren’t worried, you trusted Bucky. You trusted him not to bite you without your consent, even if your body was asking for it.

He chuckled into the curve of your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough that even if he didn’t bite you, you knew he’d leave a mark behind. The idea of him claiming you in that way had you grinning happily, an omega purr rumbling in your chest.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” Bucky murmured into your skin, his voice rough with pleasure and something else, an emotion that tugged on your heart and had your fingers squeezing his where they were still tangled together. “My omega, my sweet, beautiful, perfect omega.”

Your body clenched around Bucky’s cock and tears of swelling emotion sprang to your eyes. You dragged him to you for a deep kiss, your entangled fingers curling in his beard.

His mouth was softer, even as his hips picked up their pace, the older alpha rutting into you faster and harder.

Bucky lost himself entirely to his instincts, babbling gruff, barely intelligible words about how perfect you were and how good you were to him.

He mumbled a litany of filthy promises, telling you he was going to fill you with his knot and his seed and keep you impaled on his cock while he flooded your cunt until you were overflowing with his come.

Even through the haze of his rut, you could still feel your alpha in the tenderness of his touch and the care Bucky had for you.

Though he was rough and wild, he never hurt you, pushing you to the brink of a pleasure that was so brutal and beautiful, you weren’t sure you’d survive it. But you trusted Bucky to guide you through it safely.

When he was close, Bucky’s fingers slipped beneath your body and pushed between your thighs until he found your clit. He rubbed your sensitive bud in tight, merciless circles, making you shudder and clench around his cock, pushing you closer to the edge of your own release.

“Come, omega, come on your alpha’s cock,” Bucky growled in your ear, his hips grinding his cock deep in your pussy as he rutted your cunt. “Be a good girl for daddy, and come, baby.”

It was too much. Bucky felt too good, his thick cock filling you too perfectly and pressing against that spot deep inside you.

You were helpless to his rubbing fingers and filthy words, flying over the edge of your release and screaming your pleasure into the blankets of your alpha’s bed.

Bucky followed right after you, grunting and growling through his release. He bit down on the curve of your shoulder, careful not to break skin and cement a mating bond even as he came.

The feeling of his blunt teeth sinking into your skin sent another wave of white-hot ecstasy through your body, and Bucky groaned when your pussy clenched around him even tighter.

Bucky’s cock twitched inside you, flooding you with his come as his knot began to swell. It inflated quickly, and you gasped at the feeling of his knot plugging your pussy, locking you together while you rode out your releases.

Gradually, the waves of euphoria began to recede. But still, you felt heat licking beneath your skin, starting from where your body was connected to Bucky and flowing through the rest of your limbs.

At first, you thought it was the beginning of renewed pleasure, your omega instincts responding to Bucky’s rut by readying for another round. But then you felt a gush of slick between your thighs and your cunt clenched down greedily on Bucky’s cock, like your pussy was trying to suck him and his knot even deeper.

The alpha’s body was still curled around yours and he grunted at the feeling of you squeezing his cock. Shifting and dragging his nose up the side of your throat, he buried his face in your neck and took a deep breath, his body going still at whatever he noticed in your scent.

“Are you due for your heat, baby?” Bucky asked carefully, his voice clearer than it had been while he was in the throes of his rut.

He sounded so calm, his voice so low and delicious it took you a moment to understand what he’d asked.

“I—I shouldn’t be,” you stammered, confusion fighting against the warmth filtering through your body. Already, you had the urge to arch your back and beg Bucky to fuck you again, just like you would if you were in heat. “I’m not due for a few weeks.”

Before you could even properly protest the idea that you were going into heat, Bucky’s knot deflated enough for him to slip from your pussy. A gush of fluid spilled from your hole, but the two of you were too shocked to pay any attention to that because your bodies had proved you wrong.

Alpha biology was so well attuned to an omega’s that if they were in heat, the alpha’s knot would deflate faster than normal, and their refractory period would speed up, making sure they were able to attend to their omega’s heightened sex drive.

Bucky’s cock was already hard again, the shaft brushing against your pussy between your thighs. And your skin was burning up, so the warmth of Bucky’s body became almost cool to your touch.

Everything was pointing to you going into heat, but you still couldn’t quite wrap your mind around it.

Gently, Bucky turned you over onto your back and settled between your thighs, his big hands encouraging your legs to hook around his hips. His thick cock nestled against your soft, swollen pussy while he dug his arms under your back, holding you cradled against his chest, his face hovering above yours.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asked in a soft, gentle tone. He ducked his head to catch your eye, but you were staring unseeingly through him, trying to make it all make sense.

“Does this mean we’re…” you began to ask, your voice trailing off as the words stuck in your throat.

They were trapped by the hope bottling up in your chest. You wanted to sure about what was happening before you let your emotions loose, let the elation fly free and whisk you away to the life you’d never dared to dream about.

But where Bucky had been hesitant before, he was steady and sure in the face of your uncertainty. A smile flirted at the edges of his mouth and he captured your lips in a quick kiss before he finished your question for you.

“True matches?”

At those words, your eyes suddenly focused and searched for him. Your body settled instinctively when your gaze met Bucky’s, and his smile turned affectionate as he stared down at you, stroking your cheek fondly with his thumb.

“Yeah, baby, it means we’re each other’s true match,” he said, seemingly happy to help you understand what was happening. “Only an alpha’s true match can trigger a rut, and only an omega’s true match can spark their heat.”

Bucky gave you a moment to soak in his words, waiting patiently while his thumb traced your lips. His big hand was cupping your face so reverently, it nearly brought tears to your eyes, and you stared up into the alpha’s gaze.

Seeing the open affection on his handsome face finally got through to you.

Bucky Barnes was yours. He was your true match, the one alpha in all the world who was meant to be yours. And you were his.

It was why his scent smelled so good to you, why you’d felt so drawn to him, and why you’d been so frustrated by him avoiding you all week. It was why you’d rebelled when he’d pushed you away when you wanted to help him through his rut.

That realization made you snort a laugh, which had surprise dancing across his features, a question in the furrow of his brow.

“And you thought you could fight this,” you said, your voice wavering with laughter before you dissolved in a fit of giggles.

A rumbling chuckle came from Bucky as he waited for you to get ahold of yourself. You were still laughing helplessly when his mouth found yours in a slow, sweet kiss.

The laughter finally died in your throat and your fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair, kissing him back for all you were worth. His beard scraped against your cheeks and you delighted in the feeling, your pussy throbbing between your thighs.

“Mm, you really are mine, aren’t you, baby?” Bucky murmured against your lips after slowing the kiss and pulling away slightly. His blue eyes shimmered with affection and hunger as he stared down at you.

“Yeah, Bucky, I’m yours,” you answered in a voice so full of happiness it was practically a purr. “And you’re mine, alpha.”

“Damn fucking right,” Bucky growled. He dove back down for another, deeper kiss, plunging his tongue into your mouth and tangling with yours.

It wasn’t long before the heat simmering beneath your skin became too insistent to ignore, and you whined into Bucky’s mouth. Your hips rocked beneath the older alpha’s bigger body, grinding your cunt against his hard, twitching cock and coating him with a new layer of your slick.

“Please, alpha, I need you to knot me,” you whimpered pitifully, fingers digging into the strong muscles of his back. “Fuck me, Bucky—rut your omega and fill me up, daddy, please!”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Bucky said, shushing you gently as his hand slipped between your bodies.

He guided his cock back into your pussy, sliding deep into your tight heat while you moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Your alpha’s gonna take good care of you, ‘mega,” he promised. “Just be a good girl for daddy and take my cock.”

Then Bucky was fucking you, hard and deep, rutting into your cunt with all the ferocious power of an alpha. It was glorious, pleasure spiraling through your body as you met his every thrust.

After that, you succumbed to your heat, your omega giving in to your alpha and letting him take care of you.

For the next few days, you and Bucky barely left his room while he attended to your every need, whether that was filling you up with his knot or getting you to eat and drink some water. It was a haze of warmth and pleasure, and by the time your heat broke, you were wrung out and exhausted.

Bucky tucked you into his chest, holding you tight against his body as he purred and soothed his hand up and down your spine, urging you to sleep. You fell asleep quickly, excited to wake up rested and begin your life with your alpha, your true match, your love.

The journey of finding your way to Bucky Barnes may have begun with a long and brutal week of frustration and unsatisfied need, but you were excited to build something beautiful with him—something that would last for the rest of your lives.

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

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emmyrosee · 3 months ago

Text

Rintaro feels guilty leaving this time.

You’re expected to deliver your twins any day next week, and he’s expected to fly across the country for a charity event he really can’t even think straight for. You've assured him you'll be fine, his sister is more than capable of taking care of you while he's gone, but there's a pit in his stomach about the idea of leaving you.

But you send him anyways. With a kiss on his cheek and a promise to call him every day (if he had it his way, it would be every hour, but you wouldn't go for it).

The trip goes smooth enough, and he's grateful for you staying true to your word and calling him every night. It does make the time pass, you're safe, but he's more than eager to make it home to you.

He practically pushes his teammates out the door, he's the first one on the bus, his knee bounces anxiously the entire time- especially when the bus driver makes a wrong turn into straight construction, thrusting them in traffic for far, far too long without any service.

But you won't call him, right? Why would you, you've called him at night every day he's been here, and nothing of note has happened (not that that’s a negative to Rintaro, he’d rather your days be mundane and boring than active in your pregnancy).

His heart finally starts again once they pull into the airport parking lot, all of the teammates trying to not be annoyed at the events of the morning and trying to stay focused on the next steps of boarding the plane in a few hours.

Rintaro sighs, slipping his phone out and immediately calling you, not taking notice of just how many notifications bombarded his phone.

The line ring once, twice, and his shoulders relax as you finally pick up the phone. "Rin?" You ask, and you sound like you're in discomfort. But he merely brushes it off. You are very pregnant, after all, surely discomfort is normal.

"Hey babe, just got service from being in the bus, we've got a nasty delay because the fuck-head made us miss our fucking flight, so I might be home later than expected-"

“Rin, I'm in labor.”

Silence fills the line.

“No you’re not,” he says simply.

“As much as I would love to be kidding, I’m not. I’m 10 centimeters, babe.”

How you’re so calm right now, is beyond him.

Him, on the other hand, leaps up with absolute panic, a screechy “WHAT?” echoing through the airport. It catches more than a few looks from other people, but all Rin can think about is you.

You in the hospital, legs up in stirrups and gown being the only thing adorning your body. There's probably nurses and doctors everywhere, and Kaiya and Akito on the couch at home with his mother, waiting for the news.

"WHEN?"

"My water broke a few hours ago, got to the hospital with your sister and now they're getting ready for me to push. Your timing truly is impeccable."

“And you thought now was the best time to tell me?!”

“I tried to tell you earlier, but you had no service!” You defend.

Fuck, he could scalp the bus driver for getting fucking lost.

"okay, okay, okay lets calm down-"

You snort, "yeah I'll get right on that."

"Please, for everything unholy, don't joke right now," he pleads, and he hears you offer him a laughy 'sorry' on your end of the line. "Are you okay? Do you feel okay?"

"Well I don't feel particularly good, for all intents and purposes." You direct your attention to something else and he hears bustling in the background, "Rin I have to start pushing. Stay on the line.”

"No! Wait for me, I'll-"

"Yeah I'm not waiting for you," you snip. “I'll... be fine. Just stay on the call okay? For me?

Rintaro tries not to pass out as you start pushing, doctors encouragement coming through on the line, followed with your grunts of agony as you try to bring your two new babies into the world. He knows you’re strong, you don’t need him there, but there’s something deep inside of him that hurts at the idea that you don’t, he’s so close yet no where near close enough to be right there next to you, and he anxiously looks around him as he tries to find a private place for him to cheer you on, call your name, scream it, his soul in agony over something he has no control over.

It could be four minutes or four hours, rintaro has no idea as you finally scream in agony as a small wail breaks over the line, one akin to Akito and Kaiya’s as the two of them entered the world all those years ago.

“Beautiful!” His sister cheers, “just a bit more for Sachiko sis, you’ve got this!”

“No more,” you weakly whimper over the line, and Rintaro tears up as he chews on his thumb.

“Baby,” he chokes, “you’ve got this, okay? You can do this, I’m right here.”

“No you’re not!” You scream.

“Yes I am! I’m right here okay? I’m not going anywhere!”

“Rin I need you-“

“And I’m right here. I promise. Just close your eyes, I’m there, okay?”

Hes not there. He knows you know that. But right now, he can’t feel sorry for himself. He goes silent and listens to the bustling of the doctors and nurses preparing to bring Sachiko into the world, and rintaro has no clue how long it’s been before you’re ready to push again.

“Ready, momma?” He asks, and you let out a sob.

“Im so tired, Rin.”

“One more big push okay?” He chokes. “Push!”

And you do. You let out another shriek as you start to push, rintaro can practically see your legs tremble and face scrunch and throat tight as you let out another blood curdling cry, and before he can think, another set of crying fills the line.

His twins are here.

And he’s not.

“Good job, angel!” He hoots.

“She did so good, Rintaro,” his sister assures.

“I know she did,” he says, hand clutching his heart.

“They’re so handsome Rin,” You babble, and instantly, Rintaro’s face drops. “Such beautiful boys, they're so sweet, so handsome…”

Boys?

Oh fuck. Rintaro briefly thinks back at all the purples and pinks in the closet at home.

Immediately, Rin tries to conjure up an excited tone, squealing out a soft “boys?” in confirmation.

“She’s messing with you," his sister snickers. You’re laughing exhaustedly too, among your sniffles of agony and above the screaming of the newest twin.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” he says, breathless and his chuckles easing out.

“You've got new baby girls, Rintaro," his sister coos.

“We got them, boys!” He announces, causing an uproar of cheers to come from his teammates. He feels his heart sink to his stomach as his throat begins to swell. “I’m so proud of you baby… my good girls.”

“They’re so beautiful, Rin. So beautiful," you cry.

He sits on his suitcase and tries to imagine them, desperately, tiny hands pawing at the air, crying at the newness of the bright light and the world…

All without him. He’s not there.

“Who was born first?” He chokes, desperate to keep his voice steady. It was a complete tossup with the names, whoever was out first or second is precisely how the names would fall. But he just needs you to keep talking to him.

You understand, and you answer shakily, “Sachie,” you sigh. “Sachiko was 20 minutes later.”

“Late; just like momma.”

“Watch it.”

He chuckles around a flood of tears, a hand coming up to bring his hand up to cover his face. Hot, bubbled tears slip down to roll over his thick fingers, trying to stay composed in the airport that’s bustling with too many people.

“Im so proud of you,” he chokes, eyes screwing shut. Not long after, a massive hand claps down on his shoulder, Komori’s eyes flickering with understanding and apology. He’s got nothing to apologize for, but Rintaro takes the kindness regardless and puts a free hand on top of his to squeeze the emotions out. “My amazing girl. Fuck, I can’t wait to see you.”

“Rin, I have to go,” you say, and he hears the gruff voice of the doctor. “I love you so much. Come home safe, you’re no use to me dead.”

“Okay, princess,” he sighs shakily, burying his face in Komori’s stomach to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

He’s 99% sure he should be saying that to you, and not you to him. But regardless.

He waits for the line to die before taking the phone from his ear, blinking up at Komori with absolute heaviness in his heart.

“I should’ve been there,” he whimpers.

“You couldn’t control it, buddy.”

“But I should’ve been there. Not three cities over for some charity that I don't even care about."

It doesn’t matter the assurances Komori could try to pass him. It doesn’t matter that you’re okay, you’re strong and you don’t need him in this moment.

He should’ve been there to squeeze your hand, watch his two babies come into this world with you, kiss your forehead and whisper loving words in your ear.

And he couldn’t manage even that.

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mickyschumacher · 9 days ago

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hey! how are you? hope you’re doing great, also hope your studies are going great and you are not going insane (i study medicine)

anyway, i took a break and read ICE CREAM CAKE and it’s literally the best i’ve ever read…. so i was wondering if you just like to do some other like that one with Lando still, i mean not necessarily at the beach (which could be good because they are in summer break) maybe Ibiza, a yatch, i don’t really know, but with the same topic of lando being just randy lmfao

thank u sm for reading this lol

[STRAWBERRIES & CREAM!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a trip to ibiza is supposed to have lando relaxing. but it turns out you can relax in various different positions. or in which you'll never forget this trip to ibiza.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), fluff, established relationships inadvertent sex dynamics (soft!dom!lando), light praise kink, oral sex/eating out, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (be safe ya'll), cumming inside, mutual orgasms, orgasm denial, use of good girl, degrading use of strawberries and cream – foodplay?, indirect mentions of mental health // poorly proof-read ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k+

𝐀/𝐍: apologies in advance if i've ruined strawberries and whipped cream for anyone... anyways, hey love! i'm doing alright! hope you're doing well too! also medicine girl... stay strong! sending you my prayers 🙏 hopefully you can reward yourself with this! <3

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Ibiza was a trip you had been planning for months. Perfectly planned for the small summer break, with all this talk about championships and leads, you wanted to ensure Lando was thinking about something else. The boy needed to relax. And you were going to help.

Ibiza was always Lando's favourite getaway. This time, with the help of Max, you had gotten a yacht. So it was you, Lando, and miles and miles of the prettiest waters.

"Uh uh uh, no," you clicking your tongue at your boyfriend lying on the sun lounger, shirtless. You took Lando's phone out of his hand and put it aside. "We said no phones."

Lando gave you a blank stare, sighing dramatically as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you onto him. "I'm not five," he reminded.

You grinned enthusiastically, wrinkling your nose before dropping it. "I would beg to differ." You smiled softly, rubbing the creases on his forehead gently, pressing a light kiss. "It's our holiday. We should enjoy it before I have to send you off again."

Lando sighed, relishing your touch under the sun. The waters were calm, the wind cooling. This was what he wanted. You and him, together, relaxing. "I know," he murmured, pushing his lips against your bare arm while his arms roamed your thighs, exposed by your coverup.

You pursed your lips, thumb rubbing his cheek lightly. Your heart lurched at the occupied look on his face. You could tell what he was thinking about immediately. You tapped his nose, getting his attention. "You think too much, Lan. Now come on. Let's make lunch."

━━━━━━━━━━━

If it was up to Lando, lunch would've been an absurd amount of spring rolls and a Red Bull (but a Monster if anyone asked). But he admired the effort you put in, even if it was the both of you in the kitchen of the yacht where you yelled at him for not cutting the fruit properly.

"Stop cutting them so thinly! They're meant to be edible," you mumbled, nudging your boyfriend lightly as you eyed the slices of banana.

Lando frowned. "I'm trying my best here. You could at least be a little more appreciative," he joked.

You gave him a pointed look, finishing taking off the stems of your strawberries. "Ah, yes, thank you, baby," you cooed, "for starving me on a yacht in the middle of nowhere."

Lando rolled his eyes, unable to stop grinning, watching you grab and open a jar of cream. "And you say I'm dramatic."

He could hear you chuckle softly, shaking your head as you placed the strawberries on the plate. He sighed, ditching the knife and banana before stretching his arms around your waist, chest pressed against your back while he left small kisses on your shoulder. "Thank you," he mumbled. "For all of this. I don't deserve you."

You pursed your lips, moving the jar of cream to the middle of the plate. "Yeah, you do," you said, turning to face him, letting your arms hand around his neck. "You deserve all this and more, my little overthinker," you smiled softly, tapping his nose.

Lando smiled in return, dipping his head to meet your lips. His arms pulled you closer to him, thumbs drawing idle circles on your skin as he tasted you. He was delicate, taking his time to explore your mouth while a reverent hum of satisfaction ran through your body.

While he was evaporating all the air from your lungs, claiming each and every single one of your breaths, you pushed him away slightly when you heard a needier moan escape his throat. "Okay, pretty boy," you grinned against his lips, voice breathless. "Time for lunch."

Lando pouted, his hands in your hair. "I'm sporting a semi and you're talking about lunch?"

He beamed at the sound of your laugh and the sight of your head thrown back. You sighed, calming yourself down. "Yes, I very much am. Now come on."

Lando groaned, watching you peel away from him and gather some of the plates from the kitchen island, moving them towards the dining area in the yacht. He grumbled something incoherent, grabbing the rest of the food and following after you.

You smiled with content as you both sat across each other, eyeing all the food you had prepared. Strawberries and cream, fruits and pretzels, and some chicken you made yesterday for grease.

You and Lando ate while you talked a bit about everything. A new video on his channel after doing nothing for so long. Wanting to go play pool with Max and you. Even talks of adopting a dog, although you may need a little more persuasion on that one. None of it was about racing and you were glad.

"I mean terriers are cute. Oh my God, a yorkshire–" Lando paused, eyeing you from across the table with a raised brow. "What are you doing?"

You looked at him confused. "I'm eating. What are you doing?"

Lando looked at you blankly. "W-Why are you eating it like that?"

"How else am I supposed to eat cream covered strawberries?" You mumbled.

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, watching your lips wrap around the strawberry, it's red juice and the cream sauce coating your lips as you took a bite, letting the liquid hang off your lips. He had seen this exact scene before. Except it was two weeks ago in his hotel room with his cum dripping from your lips.

He swallowed thickly, putting his legs together. "Well stop," he muttered. "It's obscene."

You blinked, raising a brow. Oh? You pressed down your grin, dipping your strawberry back into the cream, ensuring the whole thing was covered before you put it back into your mouth. You moaned. "These are so good, Lan. You have to try some," you stated, tongue darting out to swipe the remaining white cream off your lips.

Lando could feel his mouth dry and resolve breaking with every second. If this was a test of any sorts... he needed to remain strong. "Sure," he mumbled, grabbing a strawberry for himself and doing the same. You weren't wrong. They tasted great. He imagined, however, they tasted better on your lips.

You smiled coyly, lips parting when you dropped some cream on your chest, a bead of white rolling down your breast, stopping at the seam of your bikini. "Whoops," you feigned a gasp. "Who knew cream could be so messy?"

The semi Lando had once been sporting was getting harder. He could've sworn he felt his cock twitch when you picked up the cream from your chest and licked it off your finger, remnants still shining on your breast. "Oh my God, stop," he sighed out, lifting his hips to adjust himself in chair.

"What?" You shrugged innocently, teeth sinking into your lips as you dipped two fingers into the cream and brought them to your mouth.

"Oh Christ," Lando muttered under his breath, rubbing his face. Those fingers... he wanted to suck them. He wanted to pin them down while he fucked you. He breathed out slowly, putting his hands on the table while his blue eyes stared at you heavily. "If I opened your legs right now, would I find you wet like a bitch in heat? Yes or no?"

You sucked in a sharp breath, his words only adding fuel to the fire between your legs. You watched him stand up from the table, inching– no stalking towards you like he had planned everything out in his head. His hand travelled to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Come on, baby," he whispered, leaning closer to you, his thumb parting your lips. "Use your words."

"Yes," you responded, voice shaky and airy.

Lando smiled, dragging your chair out further from the table. "Good girl. Now show me."

You swallowed the saliva in your mouth, spreading your legs open. A low moan fell from Lando's lips. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head while his blue eyes raked over the damp spot between your thighs, the fabric of your bikini bottoms clinging to every fold of your pussy.

"You are a bitch in heat," he clicked his tongue, smiling with amusement. He raised a brow at the timid expression on your face. "What? Nothing to say anymore? Nothing to claim your innocence?"

You said nothing, patiently waiting for his next move. You watched carefully as his fingers grasped the thin fabric of your coverup, pulling on the string tying it together so it fell off your shoulders and pooled at your sides.

Lando's blue eyes took a peak at your hardened nipples underneath your bikini top and grinned, his hand trailing up your neck to hold your jaw, forcing you to face him. "Teasing me all day and yet you're the one all worked up from it," he sighed, thumb tugging down on your bottom lip. "You gonna let me get what I want like a good girl?"

You nodded so silently, Lando paused to look at you. "Good," he relented, eyes a shade darker. If he couldn't get you to speak, he'd surely make you scream. He reached over to the jar on the table, bringing it closer to the edge of the table. "Get some more of that cream on your fingers."

You wordlessly moved, scooping the weightless sugary treat onto your two fingers, feeling Lando track your every movement. You brought them in front your face.

Lando hummed, hand wrapping around your wrist to bring those cream-filled fingers to his mouth. A quiet moan both fell out of your lips as you immediately felt the warmth of his mouth, his tongue swirling around to gather the sweetness, licking you clean with a single pop.

Your throat caught when you realised he hadn't swallowed anything, his hand pushing yours down before his head tilted, leaning further to press his lips against your own. His hand crawled to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, allowing you to smell the musk of your holiday mixed with the traces of cardamom and jasmine on his skin.

Your mouth welcomed the heat of Lando, the sweet taste of the cream filling your tastebuds almost immediately, thrilling and relaxing you just the way this getaway had been.

He gasped into your mouth upon the feel of your hand on his abdomen, fingers grazing his skin, littering the surface with goosebumps. The contact elicited a contented groan from the back of his throat, vibrating against your lips. He beckoned you to stand up, hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you up and flushed against his body.

Lando could feel his stomach churn when you shivered in his grasp. Only he made you feel like that. And God, was he proud of it.

Time which seemed to stop yet spin continued it's mysterious ways when your lips finally parted. Lando's one hand fell to your own, his other grabbing the jar of cream before he was dragging you to the makeshift living room on the yacht.

Leaving the jar on the small coffee table in the middle, Lando's hands shifted quickly, untying the knot keeping your top intact and shuffling your damp bottoms off. You couldn't help but laugh at his urgency.

Lando narrowed his eyes, amused smirk playing on his lips. "You laugh now," he huffed, putting your bottoms to the side. A yelp left your mouth as he grabbed you by the waist and laid you flat on the sofa. "You'll be screaming later," he retorted, taking a step back to admire you.

Christ... he was lucky. It wasn't the fact that you were lying naked in front of him. No. It was the slight flush in your skin, the temporary slip of shyness that told him you felt vulnerable in front of him. The shyness that only confirmed what he had felt when he first saw you smile. That you were the most beautiful soul he had ever seen.

He breathed out slowly, grabbing the jar and scooping a big amount of cream onto his fingers. You gasped lightly at the cool sensation as he spread a trail of white across your thigh and repeated the same on the other.

You swallowed, feeling his hands clasp around your calfs. Your stomach churned at the cheeky glint in those blue eyes while he situated himself between your legs. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his warm tongue start collecting the sugary cream on your leg, the path ending at your upper thigh.

You watch him consume it right next to your heated core, cream tainted tongue swiping over his bottom lip as though he was saying it was tasty before moving to the other leg. You held his eyes while his tongue laid flat on your skin, inching closer and closer to where you ached the most.

Your hands instantly grasped for something – anything when Lando's mouth delved into your folds. You let out a sinful whimper, his tongue plunged into your slick cunt, darting at every crevice. He lapped at you like an animal in heat, savouring your very being. The taste of you mixed with the sweetness of the cream had him humming, sound reverberating through your core.

"Taste so fucking good, doll," Lando groaned, fingers clamping deeper into your thighs, pulling you closer. He grinned at the feel of your hand in his curls, grasping at the way his nose knocked at your clit while he prodded his tongue into your hole.

Your head fell back, hips lifting up naturally, fighting his grip around your thighs. God, it felt so good. Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing uneven while your chest rose and fell.

Lando moved his tongue to your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with a switching pace of fast and slow while his long digits entered your pussy. Faintly, he groaned at your warm walls clenching around his fingers almost immediately. His very welcomed violation on your clit continued as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you at an increased pace.

Your hand tightened around his hair, hips bucking at the sheer pleasure rippling through you. "Fuck, Lando," you moaned out, voice barely above a whisper.

"You wanna cum, doll?" Lando huffed against your pussy, skin flushed and glittered with your arousal. He could feel your walls clench around his fingers, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, your moans turning into airy gasps – the tell tale signs of your onset orgasm.

Your stomach turned, chest heaving, vision beginning to blur, pleasure building up. But in an instant, it was ripped away, leaving your writhing and squirming in Lando's grasp.

"Lando," you cried out, taking a big gulp of air.

Lando smirked, head peeking up from your thighs. "You've spent all day teasing me," he sighed, fingers unclasping from your body. He stood up, taking off him swimming trunks. You swallowed at the sight of his cock. "You didn't think it would be that easy did you?"

You breathed out slowly, head falling back with a dramatic sigh. "Fuck me," you mumbled in slight annoyance.

"Oh I plan to."

Another yelp left your mouth when his arms circled your waist, bringing you up from the couch. His lips grazed past your ear. "Come on. Turn around for me. Let's see how pretty Ibiza is when I'm fucking your brains out."

You shuddered at his words, following his orders, hands on the naturally finding the edge of the sofa, eyes planted on the windows of your yacht, darkened enough so you could see through them with minimal privacy.

Lando was right. Ibiza was pretty. Especially when he was lining his cock with your pussy, gathering your dripping arousal on him, tip teasing your entrance while the blue waves of water glimmered in the sun. Your teeth sunk into your lip, feeling him push into your pussy, a broken grunt falling from both of your mouths.

"Oh fuck," he mumbled, his hands travelling to grip your hips. Lando groaned against your skin, beginning to snap his hips at his command. He rutted against you, pushing his aching cock against your walls that gripped him like a vice. He brought his mouth to your back, biting back the moans that were going to burst out of him by kissing your skin.

You could imagine yourself. Against the fresh summer breeze of the afternoon and the waves of Ibiza, the sounds you were making together – lewd. Your skin stuck together, shimmering with sweat, the squelch of your arousal combining; Lando's balls slapping against you as he pressed deeper into you.

"You feel that?" Lando queried, groaning, veins on his throat slowly surfacing. "You feel my cock? So deep in this perfect pussy. Made for me. Like a goddess," he moaned, one hand travelling to your lower stomach, pulling you back into him.

Your walls clenched at his words, pulsing around his cock. The denial of your first orgasm already had you on the edge.

"Planned this holiday for me, huh? Did you plan to let me fuck you like this? Like a good girl? Yeah... you are my good girl, aren't you? Always thinking the best for me," Lando grunted, increasing his pace, the sound of your skin slapping only becoming louder.

"Fuck, fuck, Lando," you breathed, knuckles turning white as you clenched around his cock. "I'm gonna..." you gasped, unable to complete your words, turning silent while the blue waves of Ibiza blurred, covered in stars as your orgasm rolled over you.

Lando's moans were weak and high-pitched, hips faltering and stuttered against you, ropes of his cum spilling into your cunt, reaching every crevice. You let out a soft, tired moan, pussy clenching around him to take every last drop you could get.

Lando sighed, pulling you into him, dragging you down into the sofa. He pressed a tired kiss against your lips. nestling his chin into your neck. He hugged you close to his body, cock still comfortably seated into you as an alleviating and soothing silence fell over you.

"You alright?" He murmured, lips grazing past your ear.

You nodded, rubbing his hands around your stomach idly. Your pursed your lips, turning your head to him. "Maybe I should eat strawberries and cream more often."

Lando rolled his eyes. "Please for the love of God... my gravestone will have 'died of strawberries and cream.'"

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #lando norris #f1 smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando x you #lando

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theosbaby · 11 months ago

Text

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

flashing mattheo during an argument

NSFW content ahead, +18

one second, he's shouting some unintelligible shit at you, and the next one, he's almost drooling at the sight of your pretty tits, naked just for him to see. he's falling silent in fucking milliseconds. but god, they're so bloody perfect... how could he not stare at them?

It's not fair, you know he loves them, and you use that knowledge against him. every. fucking. time.

he can't even remember what you were fighting about in the first place, not that he cares anymore, anyways. your full, round tits have him fucking mesmerised, the only thing in his mind at the moment being his feral need to bury his face in them and never come out again, not even for air.

"baby," he would growl, eyes not able to look away from your boobs.

you swear you can see a faint blush appear on his cheeks as you tell him, "i don't wanna fight anymore." you pout cutely at him while you're still tugging your top over your breasts, the piece of clothing it's so small that mattheo wonders how they were fitting inside it in the first place.

"me neither," he replies quietly, starting to walk towards you, not being able to stay away for a second more. "i'm sorry, a'ight?"

"it's okay... 'm sorry too," you also apologise, a little smile tugging at the corner of your plump lips as you watch him leaning forward to wrap his strong arms around you, lifting you up so your tits are right on his face.

and when he finally gets to bury his face in your glorious tits, he's not letting go. he's dragging you to his bed and dropping you in it without pulling an inch away. he lays on top of you, between your spread thighs, lips kissing your soft, pillowy flesh.

"fuck, i love these," he'd mumble against your chest, his hands squeezing your sides tightly. "so fucking perfect."

you chuckle softly at that, which makes your tits bounce slightly, and god, the sight makes him hard in seconds. he hums contently against the supple flesh of your boobs as he teasingly starts sucking and licking your tits everywhere but your nipples, alternating between the two as if he can't decide which one he wants to focus on.

his hands are roaming over your body, groping and caressing your curves as if he's re-learning them. he's squeezing your thighs, your ass, and occasionally, going up to your soft tummy, rough finger pads making goosebumps erupt in your skin.

you don't disturb him, letting him play with your boobs as he pleases while you run your slender fingers through his unruly curly hair. sometimes, you caress his face tenderly, watching with heavy lidded eyes while he worships your body. you find it cute, how much he loves your breasts. he's always wanting to touch them, lick them, kiss them... and it fucking turns you on so much, because you're so sensitive there.

you moan when finally settles on one nipple, sucking on it hard while his hand kneads the other breast. he'd push both boobs together, his mouth dropping the already hard peak he was sucking on to lick at the other. his hips are bucking against you the whole time, grinding his hard on against your drenched core.

he's definitely leaving marks, which you complain about, but he just looks up at you, pupils blown, and says, "they're mine, aren't they? i'll mark 'em if i want to."

after that, he slips his hand inside your shorts and panties, finding you completely soaked for him and that fact makes him groan as he returns to suck on your perky, reddened nipples. his fingers rub your swollen, little clit, making you whimper and squirm beneath him, but he uses his free hand to grab you and keep you still while he stuffs you full of his fingers, burying them knuckles deep. he's making you cum in minutes, orgasm so good that feels like fireworks exploding inside your tummy.

and then, once he's satisfied you, he rips both of your clothes off and makes you ride him. he'd be such a mess beneath you as he watches you jump on top of him, little whimpers escaping his lips against his will. the sight of your perfect tits bouncing right on his face while your tight little pussy squeezes his cock makes him cum so fucking fast that he's almost embarrassed... almost.

more.

#♡ ;; theosbaby #ꪆৎ casually thinking about...#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo smut #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #slytherin smut #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut

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hatethysinner · 2 months ago

Note

I’ve been reading stories where Remmick meets the reader whose in a bad marriage with a cheating spouse. They’re good but I now want a different kind of AU, I want to see Remmick meets pregnant reader which the baby’s father dipped the moment he heard the news so basically Remmick steps in to take care of the reader and the baby. If it’s no trouble can you write it please? I don’t mind if you do or don’t add smut in the story

ɴᴏ ᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀʀʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ᴡᴄ: 5.1k

ᴀ/ɴ: title taken directly from this incredible song. I LOVE THIS IDEA ANON UR SO SMART! i was kind of hesitant to write this for some reason but the more i thought about it the more i was like oh my god this is gonna be so good! one thing led to another and well... is 5k words still a drabble? i'm not in love with my writing in this but i truly hope y'all enjoy it. as always, white girls you can have your fun with this too! i don't do taglists personally, so just follow me if you want to be updated when i post c:

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: familial abandonment, grief, light religious mentions, birth though i don't think it's that graphic but mileage may vary, excessive divider usage, amateur knowledge of maternity(!!!), domestic lonely!remmick fluff

fanart!

You hadn’t planned to be alone.

Not like this.

Not with your belly round and aching, your fingers too swollen for the ring he slipped on with shaking hands that spring. Not in this creaking old house with lace curtains and porch swings and enough room for a family that hadn’t come.

The Mississippi heat hadn’t let up in weeks. It clung to your neck like grief, heavy and humid, the cicadas too loud to ignore and the crickets too quiet to trust. You moved slower now, out of necessity, not grace. The floorboards groaned beneath your bare feet as you made your way from the bed to the kitchen as if the house missed a second set of steps too.

You still caught yourself reaching for him at night.

Still caught yourself dreaming of the way he used to hold your waist like it anchored him. The way he kissed the back of your neck in the kitchen when you were stirring something sweet. How he'd whisper that you were going to be the best mother Mississippi ever saw.

He loved you.

Didn’t he?

But the day you sat him down, palms damp, breath caught somewhere between hope and dread, and told him you’re gonna be a father, everything shifted. Not all at once. Not with shouting or slamming doors.

Just silence.

First, he started staying late at the shop.

Then the notes stopped showing up with the groceries.

Then you woke up and he was gone.

No suitcase. No goodbye.

Just the weight of knowing his absence wasn’t an accident.

You’d told yourself it was a mistake. That maybe he was hurt. Maybe something happened. But the bank hadn’t seen him. The rail station hadn’t, either. He left. Left you.

Left this.

The whispers in town followed you like gnats. Women with their husbands at church, nodding politely, eyes drifting down to your stomach before flicking back up with something like pity, or judgment, you couldn’t quite bear to name. No one said it outright, but you heard it anyway.

Poor girl.

What a shame.

You still sat in the same pew. Still sang the hymns, even when your throat ached. Still held your chin high. But it was getting harder. Harder to feel beautiful. Harder to feel strong.

Harder to believe there’d be anything left of you once this child came into the world.

You’d made peace with that, sort of. With being a mother, even if you couldn’t be a wife.

Until the night he showed up.

It was late. So late, the world felt folded in on itself. The moderate rain only exemplified the quiet. The porch light had burned out weeks ago, and the only glow came from the oil lamp you kept near the window. The town had gone quiet save for the occasional bullfrog croaking out near the creek, and you’d just settled into your rocking chair, fingers pressing gentle circles into the small of your back, trying to coax the ache away.

Then the knock.

Soft. Barely a sound at all.

You startled.

Knocks didn’t come this time of night. Not unless someone was dead or dying. You wrapped your robe tighter and eased yourself upright, hand on the edge of your belly, heart already ticking faster.

You stood slowly, one hand on your lower back, the other braced against the wall as you moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to make yourself look presentable. Just adjusted your chest, padded barefoot to the front of the house, and peered through the fogged glass of the window beside the frame.

There was a man on your steps.

Not your husband.

A stranger.

Tall. Lean. Barely cloaked in a threadbare coat. He stood crooked against the porch railing, eyes tilted toward the sky like the rain was speaking to him. His hair was damp and clung to his forehead. His hands were empty.

You should’ve locked the door.

Should’ve turned off the light and walked back to bed.

But something in the way he looked up when you touched the knob, like he’d sensed it, like he’d been waiting, froze you in place.

You opened the door.

He didn’t move.

“Sorry to trouble ya, miss,” he said, voice rough, worn down like old gravel.

You didn’t answer.

He cleared his throat. Rain had slicked down the collar of his coat and soaked through the fabric at his shoulders.

“I ain’t askin’ for much,” he added. “Just a night. I won’t touch nothin’. I just-” He hesitated. “It’s cold.”

You looked him over.

The way he stood didn’t scream threat. Didn’t scream drunk or high or desperate. But it didn’t scream safe either. He looked pale. Tired. Gaunt in the cheeks, but not unwell. Just… small, somehow, despite his size.

You shifted. Felt the baby stir gently beneath your ribs.

He noticed.

His eyes dropped to your belly. His whole face changed. Not pity. Not disgust. Just something sharp and unfamiliar, like recognition.

“I’ll sleep on the porch,” he said quickly. “Didn’t realize... I wouldn’t’ve knocked if I’d known. Honest.”

You didn’t know what possessed you then. Maybe it was the ache in your ribs. The absence of someone who should’ve been there to keep you company through all this. Maybe it was how needy he sounded. How soft his voice got when he said honest.

Or maybe it was the look he gave you when you gave him permission to step inside.

He didn’t smile.

Just nodded. Like you’d saved him from something you didn’t have a name for yet.

“Thank ya,” he said, voice almost hoarse now. “Thank ya kindly.”

You still didn’t ask his name.

You didn’t ask where he came from.

You just shut the door behind him, gestured toward the blanket chest by the hearth, and said, “There’s a quilt in there. Floor’s all I’ve got.”

He nodded again. Didn’t complain.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he lowered himself down, slow and careful, folding the blanket once before curling beneath it. No pillow, no cushion. Just wood and wool and whatever weight he’d carried in with him.

And when you eased yourself back into your rocker, listening to the soft tick of rain on the windowpanes, the baby shifted again, sharper this time. Like it knew something had changed.

You didn’t sleep well.

But when you woke the next morning, he was still there.

And that was the last night you ever spent alone.

It started with the dishes.

Not all at once. Just one plate, then another. A rhythm, like he'd done it a hundred times before. You’d woken from your afternoon nap to find the washtub full and your best rag already soaked, the scent of lye soap and something copper-tinged filling the air.

He hadn’t even looked up at first. Just kept scrubbing slow circles into a plate with that strange, methodical care of his. You’d stared at him for a full minute, waiting for him to stop, to say something, maybe even look guilty. But he didn’t. He just nodded toward the table, where he’d made a small spread of breakfast, only for you.

“Thought ya might be hungry,” he said.

That was all.

You didn’t ask him why he’d done it.

You didn’t need to.

He’d been quiet like that all week. Hovering without hovering, close but never quite imposing. You noticed the way he watched you when you moved around the house, hands tucked behind his back like he didn’t trust himself not to help too quickly. He'd fixed the door latch before you'd even thought to mention it, patched the hole in the roof where the rain got in, even dusted your kitchen shelves with one of your old slips of cloth tied around his wrist like a makeshift cuff.

You hadn’t asked for any of that either.

But maybe that was what made it bearable. Strange, yes, but not frightening. Not threatening. He wasn’t a loud man. Wasn’t messy, either. He stepped light, didn’t slam doors, always kept his boots by the back steps and his sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows.

He didn’t touch you.

But he looked.

You caught him at it often enough. When you were washing greens, when you were folding linens. His gaze always softened around the edges, like he was watching something breakable and didn’t trust the room to keep it safe.

At first, you’d looked away.

Now you didn’t.

You weren’t sure what changed. Only that something about the way he moved, how slow and deliberate it all was, made your chest ache in a way you didn’t expect. Like you’d forgotten what it meant to be seen without being expected to perform.

He watched you differently than your husband had. That man, gone now, though not without taking a piece of your heart with him, had looked at you with something close to love. Maybe it had been love. You still didn’t know. But there had always been a shadow in it. A hesitation. Like he was trying to hold on to who you were before. Before the baby. Before the curve of your belly started showing in every dress. Before you started humming lullabies under your breath.

He didn’t do that.

He just brought you warm water for your feet in the evening and kept the fire going when the wind picked up through the walls. He hung herbs on the porch rail to dry, even though you hadn’t taught him how. Got it wrong the first time. Rosemary bundled with sassafras, but corrected himself without complaint. He had sharp eyes. Paid attention. Knew your schedule by heart now. When you took your walks. When you liked your tea. When the baby liked to kick.

And Lord, the way he fussed over that baby.

He listened for the kicks like they were gospel. Dropped to one knee anytime you winced or shifted, one hand already hovering like he could ease the weight of your belly just by being near. He’d murmur soft nothings to it sometimes, voice low and warm as molasses. Called the baby sweetheart, sugarplum, his little dove, like it already belonged to him, like he'd been waiting for it longer than even you had.

When the baby turned in the night and made your whole spine ache, he was already there with warm cloths and gentler hands. He never made a show of it. Never asked for thanks. Just laid his hand where it hurt most and waited until your breath evened out again. Sometimes you’d wake to find him asleep beside your chair, his head resting lightly against your thigh, still half-dressed from whatever he’d been doing before he heard you stir.

He carried buckets of water in the mornings without you asking, swept the porch, patched the leaks. Cleaned the chicken coop even though he hated the smell. Anything to spare you the strain. Anything to make things easier.

And he never touched your belly without permission. Not once. Always waited for a nod, for some small sign that it was alright. Then he’d press the flat of his palm against your skin like it was sacred.

He didn’t ask for much in return.

Just to be close.

Just to stay.

It was strange, all of it.

You’d said that to yourself more than once, lying awake with your belly high and heavy under the quilt, the fire crackling low in the stove and his footsteps creaking through the kitchen. It wasn’t fear that kept you up. It wasn’t discomfort either, not exactly. It was something quieter. Thicker. A feeling like you’d wandered into someone else’s story, someone else’s life.

You’d never expected company. Not after what happened. Not after the man you married, the one you’d whispered vows with in a sun-warmed church, turned pale and silent when you told him about the child growing inside you. You weren’t stupid. You’d known it would be hard. But you hadn’t expected the look he gave you, like you’d broken something between you. And then he left. Just like that. Like the baby had made you unrecognizable.

But he didn’t seem to flinch.

He hadn’t run, hadn’t stared at your stomach like it was a problem that needed solving. Hadn’t looked past you like he was trying to remember who you used to be before the swell of your belly changed the silhouette of your body.

He just stayed.

And that was strange.

So was the way he moved through the house now, your house, though it hadn’t felt like yours in a while, with a sense of purpose that made no sense. You never asked him to scrub the floorboards or polish the handles or oil the hinges, but he did. Quietly. Methodically. Like he wanted to earn the space he took up.

Strangest of all, though, was how he spoke to your belly.

He didn’t talk to you about the baby. Not directly. But he murmured to your stomach like it was a person already. Asked questions. Told it things. Ran his hand, cool and callused, gently over the curve of you like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

“Evenin’, little one,” he’d say, crouching to place a soft kiss right above your navel after bringing you tea. “Ya givin’ your mama trouble again?”

And when the baby kicked, he lit up like a man who’d just heard the voice of God.

The first time it happened with him, just a nudge, a little flutter against your ribs, you’d gasped and pressed your palm to the spot. He'd rushed across the room with a towel in one hand and a pail in the other, dropping them both like they were meaningless and was at your side in an instant.

“Was that ‘em?” he whispered. “Did they move?”

You nodded. And he reached for your hand so gently it made your throat ache. Placed it over his own, right where your skin had jumped. You watched his eyes flicker red in the dim candlelight as he waited. Then brighter. Brighter still when the baby kicked again.

You didn’t mention the glow. Not then.

You’d noticed it before. Brief, flickering, like something hiding behind glass. His eyes weren’t blue the way other white men in town had them. They weren’t even just blue. They had depth. Layers. Like river water after a storm, with light trapped somewhere deep inside. The red only came when the light hit just right, and was brightened when he was emotional. Happy. Or upset.

Or something else.

His teeth, too, were strange. White, yes, but sharper at the corners. His canines lingered a little too long. He didn’t smile often, but when he did, they always showed just a little too much. He never seemed to eat, not really. Said he had odd hours. That his stomach didn’t take kindly to most food.

But he cooked for you. Always. Carefully. Like the act of preparing your plate meant more to him than eating his own.

All of it was strange.

But you didn’t stop him.

Because when he sat beside you and ran a hand over your belly, there was nothing selfish in it. Nothing claiming or hungry. Just awe. Just devotion.

That was the word that kept coming to mind lately. Devotion.

He followed your pace. Matched your rhythm. Learned your moods before you even knew them yourself. If you sighed, he brought a shawl. If you shifted, he offered his arm. If you cried, when the tears came without warning, in the middle of cooking or brushing your hair or just trying to read, he said nothing. Just held you. Let you soak his shoulder and said your name like it was a promise.

Sometimes you caught him watching you.

Not in a lurid way. Not even in the way your husband used to, back when things were good between you. He looked like he was trying to memorize you. The way your breath hitched when you laughed. The way your ankles swelled at night. The way your fingers danced over the pages of your herbal guides even when you were too tired to really read.

You didn’t ask why he stayed.

You told yourself it was pity. Gratitude. Maybe a sense of guilt.

But something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only tether he had left to something real, made you wonder.

And more than once, you found yourself leaning into him just a little longer than needed. Letting your hand rest on his when he passed you a cup. Letting the silence stretch between you when the fire burned low.

It was slow.

It was strange.

But it was real.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.

It had been almost a month.

Four weeks of him sleeping on the floor beside the hearth. Of you waking up to the scent of ash and chicory. Finding the kitchen swept, the kettle hot, your shoes waiting near the door like you had a man who knew where you liked to go. Four weeks of strange cohabitation, of watching each other without asking too many questions, of wordless routines built out of necessity and slow, quiet trust.

And yet, still no names.

You knew the cadence of his footsteps. The shape of his shadow in the yard. How he always tucked his hands behind his back when he thought too hard about something. You knew the way he’d squint at the firewood pile before choosing a piece. And he knew you. When your hips started to ache. When your breathing changed. When the weight of everything, not just the baby, but the world, got too heavy and you needed silence more than you needed talk.

Still, he had never asked for your name.

And you had never asked for his.

It should’ve been strange. Should’ve felt unfinished. But it didn’t. Not really. Because whatever he was, he had never felt like a stranger. Just something old. Something waiting.

That morning, the sky had opened up with thunder and mean gray light. A storm sat heavy over the treeline, wet wind slicing through the cracks in the wood. You stood barefoot at the back door, mug in hand, and watched the trees sway like dancers out of rhythm. He was already outside, boots deep in the mud, securing the herbs he’d hung on the rail.

You saw it before he did. The string snapping, the whole bundle of thyme and yarrow whipping into the wind. He reached for it too late. You nearly called out.

But then he moved.

Fast.

Not just quick, but wrong. Not human. A blur of striped clothing and sharp motion. His feet barely touched the porch before he was in the yard again, herbs in hand.

He caught them. All of them.

And when he turned back toward the door, he looked surprised to see you watching.

His smile faltered.

But he walked toward you anyway, hands full of dripping stems and his coat soaked through to the elbows.

You opened the door.

“Got ‘em,” he said, like that explained anything.

You stepped back to let him in.

He didn’t speak again until he’d shaken the rain off his shoulders and laid the herbs gently on a dry cloth near the stove. You were still watching him. Something you’d been doing more lately. Not because he made you nervous. Not exactly.

But because you didn’t understand how someone could be so careful with the smallest things and yet move like that. Unnatural. Unsettling. And beautiful, somehow. Like a storybook thing.

He noticed your eyes. Of course he did.

“What is it?” he asked, quiet.

You didn’t lie.

“Just thinkin’ how strange this is,” you said, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. “You. Me. This.”

He didn’t answer.

“You sleep in my home. You touch my things. You know how I take my tea. And I don’t even know your name.”

That made him blink.

He stood there in the center of the room, rain still clinging to his lashes, one hand trailing over the spine of a chair.

“I suppose ya don’t,” he said after a beat, almost sheepish.

You raised a brow. “What is it, then?”

He looked at you a moment longer, then stepped forward and said it in a voice like wet moss and river stones:

“Remmick.”

You let it sit between you for a second. The shape of it. Strange and clean. Like something unspoken finally made solid.

Then you nodded.

“Alright.”

He tipped his head, that small, half-hopeful smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

“Ya got one for me?”

You didn’t smile back.

But you said it, soft. Like you were reminding yourself it belonged to you still.

And maybe to him now, too.

You watched the way he turned it over in his mouth after you gave it to him. Like a word he’d chew through all winter, rolling it on his tongue like a secret, like a prayer.

He said it again.

Once.

Like a promise.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, the ache in your lower back sharper now. You pressed your hand gently to the curve of your belly. He noticed. He always noticed.

Without needing to be told, he crouched in front of you and helped guide you to the rocking chair near the stove. His hands were still cold from the rain, but his touch was steady. He adjusted the cushion. Draped a shawl over your knees. Then sat beside you on the floor, arms draped loosely over his knees like always.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

The rain softened. The fire popped.

He reached toward your ankle, thumb brushing where your skin met the top of your sock. Not asking for anything. Just anchoring.

“I’m glad ya let me stay,” he said.

You didn’t answer.

But you reached down and covered his hand with yours.

Because somehow, so were you.

The pain started low and slow, like a tug at the deepest part of you. You were in the kitchen, barefoot and brushing dust from the windowsill, when it hit hard enough to make your breath catch. You gripped the edge of the counter, then looked down.

Water.

A slow trickle at first, then more, pooling between your feet.

You didn’t panic. Not really. You’d read enough, listened to enough, prepared enough. Still, your heart kicked up in your chest like it was trying to warn you of something big coming down the road.

And it was.

“Remmick,” you called, steady but loud enough to shake the rafters.

He was there in an instant. Not from the garden or the porch like he usually was this time of day, but already in the hallway, already moving toward you with that eerie stillness he had when he was trying not to look like he was floating.

His eyes snapped to the floor, then to your face. "It’s time?"

You nodded once, slow.

Then the contraction hit, sharp enough to knock the air from your lungs.

He caught you before your knees buckled.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. His hand was at your back, the other already slipping under your knees. He lifted you like you weighed less than the apron still tied around your waist. “I've got you.”

You didn’t ask how he moved so quick. You didn’t ask how he got the basin already filled, or how the towels had been laid out on the bed before you even stepped inside the room. You barely remembered the lamp being lit.

But it was.

Everything was ready.

Remmick had prepared.

He moved with a purpose that didn’t belong to a man who had never done this before. There was no fumbling. No panic. He worked like someone who had learned the rhythms of birth from midwives long buried, had seen a thousand labors begin and end under candlelight and wood smoke.

He guided you through it all. Let you curse and sob and grip his arms so tight you left bruises.

"Good girl,” he whispered, again and again. “You’re doin’ so good. Keep breathin’, baby. Just like that.”

You didn’t have the energy to wonder how he knew what to do. You couldn’t ask. Not with the pain hitting like waves, not with the pressure bearing down. But somewhere in the middle of the storm, when your vision blurred and your body ached in ways you didn’t know it could, his voice was still there.

Low. Calm. Constant.

“Push now. There ya go. You’re safe. I got you.”

His hands were slick with water and blood, but steady as stone. He never looked away. Not once.

And when the final push came, sharp, terrible, blinding, he caught the baby in his hands like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

There was a moment after. A long one.

Where everything stopped.

And then, the cry.

Thin, high, beautiful.

You fell back against the pillows, sobbing harder than you thought you would. Not from pain. Not from fear. Just the release of it all.

Remmick didn’t speak at first. Just held the baby in both hands, his face unreadable.

And then he looked at you.

“It’s a girl,” he whispered, voice cracked and full of something you couldn’t name. “She’s perfect.”

You let out a breath that rattled your whole body.

He brought her to you, wrapped in a cloth so soft it must’ve been hidden in the dresser for weeks. And there she was.

Dark skin. Curling hair already damp against her forehead. Tiny hands twitching with life.

And Remmick, pale, bloodstained, glowing faintly in the dim lamplight, looked down at her like she was something holy.

She was.

To you both.

His fingers shook as he touched her cheek. Shook like he wasn’t sure he deserved to, like the smallest movement might shatter the moment into pieces he couldn’t gather again. His knuckles were bloodstained, and his hand was far too large, too scarred, too rough to be so gentle, but it was. He moved like a man touching glass.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I’ll take care of ya.”

There was no promise in his voice, no boast, no plea.

Just fact.

You looked at him then. Really looked. Not through the fog of pain or the veil of exhaustion. Not with the wary glances you’d grown used to offering him in the first weeks. But truly. Fully.

His eyes were still wet. Still glowing. Not bright, not loud, but pulsing softly. Faint and sure, like something not ready to die.

His shirt clung to him in wrinkled, clumsy lines, soaked with sweat and streaked with all the effort he'd poured into your labor. The collar was limp and stained with blood, yours and hers. His sleeves had been rolled back at some point, but they'd slipped again, damp fabric bunched at the crook of his arms.

There was blood under his nails. Streaked across his jaw. A smear dried along the side of his throat like he'd wiped his face without thinking.

And his teeth, those strange, terrible things, peeked through when he spoke. Elongated. Cuspate. Pressed just barely over the curve of his lip like he hadn't remembered to pull them back yet. Like maybe, in this moment, he didn’t care to hide anything at all.

But they didn’t scare you.

They never really had.

This strange man. This mystery with calloused hands and a voice like river stones. This creature who could build fires from the dampest wood and wash clothes better than you ever had patience to.

This father to your child.

You nodded. Slow. Steady.

“I know.”

The way his shoulders dropped then, just slightly, made your chest ache. As if he'd been holding the weight of that doubt for weeks. Maybe longer.

He held the baby again, arms curling around her like she was the most delicate thing he’d ever seen. Like she might disappear if he looked away too long. She made a soft, squeaking sound in her sleep, and Remmick’s whole body tensed around her as though the world might threaten her simply for breathing.

“She’s yours,” he whispered, voice crumbling at the edges. “And now she’s mine.”

You didn’t correct him.

Didn’t want to.

There was no logic that could define this thing between you. No words that could make it neat. But you weren’t looking for neat anymore. You weren’t looking for anything.

Except this.

This house. This moment. These people.

There was no sense to be made of it. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. But the three of you, somehow, you fit.

Remmick settled beside you on the bed. Not with the hesitant edge he used to carry, not like he was afraid you might change your mind and ask him to leave. But with something close to reverence. He moved slowly, gently, as if even sitting beside you might unmake the calm if done wrong.

One arm stayed curled protectively around the baby. The other slipped behind your back and pulled you close, cradling you like he didn’t know where else to put his warmth. You let your head fall against his shoulder, heavy with everything you’d just endured. Your body still ached, hollowed out and raw, but it wasn’t empty.

It was full in every way that mattered.

The fire popped in the next room, slow and lazy now, just embers and ash. Wind rattled the windowpane above your heads. The familiar kind of wind that came in every winter, dry and loud and aching through the trees.

But everything else was still.

The hush of the house held you like a lullaby.

Remmick kissed the top of your head, his lips barely brushing your damp hair.

The kiss wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t even expectant. It was steady. It was sacred. Like sealing something between you.

“My girls,” he said, voice breaking just a little at the end. “My girls.”

His hand cupped the back of your neck. His chin rested against the top of your head. The baby shifted against his chest, small and soft and unaware that her world had just been born with her.

You closed your eyes.

Let the weight of him, the heat of her, the ache in your body, all of it,anchor you.

And for the first time since that long, lonely night on the porch when the world had changed forever, you didn’t feel afraid. Or alone.

You were home.

And Remmick would never let you forget it.

#remmick x reader #remmick #black!fem!reader #black!reader #remmick x black!reader #remmick x black!fem!reader #remmick sinners #remmick x you #sinners #sinners 2025 #inboxxx #remmick fluff #request #for some reason i feel so insecure abt this one sorry if its bad yall 😭😭😭#here she comes world please be kind to her

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pedroscurls · 10 months ago

Text

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard.

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back.

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.”

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?”

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed.

Through it all, you stayed.

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living.

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers.

“And if I can’t?”

“You’ll have to.”

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.”

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct.

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him.

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him.

In your dreams, he was alive.

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura.

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura.

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on.

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan.

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about.

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about.

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret.

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm.

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it.

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you.

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms.

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself.

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right.

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.”

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally.

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears.

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again.

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate.

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head.

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky.

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl.

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly.

“From my universe,” Logan answers.

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?”

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?”

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself.

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters.

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.”

My Logan.

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him.

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?”

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.”

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles.

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.”

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes.

“I’m not him,” he whispers.

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.”

#hugh jackman wolverine #hugh jackman character #logan howlett #wolverine #worst wolverine #deadpool & wolverine #logan howlett fanfic #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfic #wolverine fanfiction #worst wolverine fanfic #worst wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #post deadpool & wolverine #worst logan!variant #hugh jackman #logan howlett x f!reader

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dreamerimpossible · 7 months ago

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Slasher Jealousy Scale

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, in certain cases yandere tendencies, +18 content, all characters in this work are portrayed as 18 or older.

Michael Myers

3/10

Not too jealous. He usually doesn't understand the reason for those feelings. Furthermore, no one would be able to touch what he marked for him, his superhuman strength and imposing figure would be on top of anyone who dared to look in your direction. So, he would never get jealous. There's just no need.

Chucky

8/10

Completely canonical that he's a jealous bastard. Just tell him he's not man enough for you and he'll get on top of you without thinking twice forcing you to back off. The person who set his sights on you doesn't have a good destiny, obviously. In reality, it's not good to play with him, his pride as a man is too strong.

Billy Loomis

9/10

Abandonment issues become too present. He doesn't like you getting close to too many guys. If his partner knows his true nature, he will be overly controlling and possessive, he would not like his partner to get too close to friends who could be a threat to their relationship. He is quite manipulative and will use such tactics to get you to stay away from those he doesn't like.

Stu Macher

6/10

Medium level of jealousy. He doesn't like being replaced by someone else, but he won't show much of a reaction if you talk to friends who like you. Anyway, he is also popular and will interact with all types of people. However, if he sees something very noticeable, he will pull the strings underneath and that person who made him jealous will magically disappear. For the sake of the relationship, don't talk about it.

Patrick Bateman

10/10

All your attention should be directed at him. The more genuine your interest and compliments, the more he will seek your attention, so making him jealous and paying attention to someone else would be the end of it. He needs complete devotion. He won't tolerate distractions and could take care of them. Making him feel insecure indirectly is not the best option you could take. It is better to dedicate everything to him.

Jason Vorhees

10/10

He literally keeps you locked up, that is the most representative indication of the matter. He does not like those people standing over you looking at you with lust. He is the only one you need. Yes, he will take care of you and protect you. You should be calm.

Leatherface

10/10

Too insecure with himself, so he expects you to have impeccable behavior. Although luckily for you, you will not have too many moments in which he will get jealous because your only environment is his family. So you must treat them with respect and with certain limits and distance. If not, he will get frustrated. And we know his way of dealing with that.

Art The Clown

2/10

He is not jealous, everything for him is a violent game. If someone flirts with you, he will laugh and do his thing with the same energy as always. Although he won't tolerate you ridiculing him, if you flirt with someone, you will pay, but not because he gets jealous, but because he is the one who makes the rules, not you.

Jason Dean

10/10

Dependent, possessive and obsessive. He's literally a warning in and of himself. Seriously, don't flirt or let yourself be flirted with. Don't break up with him, don't walk away from him, don't stop paying attention to him. Just don't leave him, he's very jealous and won't let you go for any reason. Oh, he's also manipulative, so he'll definitely get you to walk away from that harmless guy in your class.

Alex DeLarge

2/10

He doesn't formally qualify as a slasher, but I'm including him anyway. I don't really see him as jealous, he's more of a controlling guy. He doesn't like having his first choice role in other people's lives taken away from him, he is the leader and the one who commands, but he won't get jealous of anyone, because he thinks highly of himself and is charming when he wants to be. He probably has you wrapped around his finger, so…why get jealous?

Brahms

15/10

He won't let you leave the house for that reason. He doesn't want you to leave him, any outsider is a threat. You are only his, you must accept that. However, even if you accept it, he will still be jealous, because he can't help it. If you want to go out somewhere, he will wonder if it is because you want to see someone.

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jsooly · 7 months ago

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taken in by the sullys (3) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, fifteen years fly by and your family just keeps growing as you fight the stigma of being the clan leaders' human child... aka moments between you and your infant/toddler siblings

(1) / (2) / (3 - ur here! ☆) / (4*)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

+ takes place just before atwow! this is a much longer chapter T-T

neteyam

moments before he was to connect with eywa, you sat quietly next to him as jake and neytiri bustled around to prepare for the ceremony

you leaned over the side of his cradle, poking his blue skin. he squirmed before focusing his eyes on you. you could tell he was intrigued — you were different than all the faces he'd seen today.

you lowered your voice, whispering to conceal your conversation from jake and neytiri.

"hey." you nodded to him. "i'm y/n. i'm your big sister. well, not real big sister, but still." you shrugged.

you stepped onto the side of the wooden frame, getting some height over where he lay. "you're pretty big for a baby, you know. you're as big as me already. but that doesn't mean you don't have to listen to me, you know." you wagged a finger in his face.

he tilted his head, and you weren't sure if he was getting any of what you were saying. you continued anyway.

"mom says i'm better than the other na'vi kids my age. i can already hunt and fight. she says i have an unnatural gift." you whispered.

"but..." you sighed, stroking his head softly. "i guess i can teach you, too. and it's okay if you suck. i'll be there to protect you."

neytiri and jake exchanged endeared looks, their backs turned to you and the newborn to give you the privacy you thought you had.

if there was one thing you had to let go of quickly, it was your pride

the clan practically worshipped little neteyam — firstborn son of the fierce neytiri and legendary jake sully? they celebrated for weeks

though young, you were still aware you were different, that you didn't exactly belong among the na'vi... but you didn't mind the dirty looks if it meant staying around your family

plus a new baby brother was more than enough joy to offset the feelings of exclusion

you were fluent in na'vi long before neteyam came along, and you took charge teaching him to speak, walk, even string an bow

perhaps you took charge a little too well

"y/n." jake warned. "put him down."

your brother was only a few months old, yet you were manhandling him as if he'd grown enough to withstand the rough grabbing and pulling.

you were surprisingly strong for a human kid your age (you can thank neytiri for that), allowing you to hold neteyam in your arm with ease.

"no." you said simply.

jake gave you a look. of course you had to enter a rebellious phase right when neteyam was very fragile.

"y/n."

you groaned. "what?"

"don't make me get your mother."

"i'm teaching him."

"he doesn't need to be taught right now, sweetheart." jake said gently, approaching you with caution and attempting to take neteyam off your hands.

"he's just lying around all day!" you rebutted, swerving away from him. the flush of speed made neteyam chirp softly in excitement as he gazed up at you. you smiled at pat his head briskly. "might as well fill the time up with something." you mumbled as you stroked his bald head.

"that's a good idea, but how about something less dangerous?" jake grinned widely, trying to sell his point. he held up a ball and some toy blocks. "huh? come on, what d'you say?"

you gave him an unimpressed look, not bothering to answer him as you swiftly turned around and exited the tent. ignoring the sharp noise of protest from jake behind you, you smiled proudly at your brother and nuzzled into his head.

"you're gonna be a great olo'eyktan one day, brother." you assured him. "but first, we gotta get away from dad and teach you how to walk n' stuff."

he babbled in agreement.

in the year when it was just you and neteyam, you bonded inseparably

he was always behind you, like a puppy chasing a little duck around

there was a time when other clan members were a bit concerned that he was spending more time with you than other na'vi children

"neytiri, listen to reason." one omaticaya woman told her.

neytiri was sharpening weapons with some of the other women, all sitting in a circle in a time where they were supposed to be exchanging stories and dreaming about the future. but some chose to gossip and condemn.

"i am listening, though i would not call it reason." neytiri shot back.

"your son is descended from great lineage. consider having him romp around with his own kind instead of an unwanted child."

neytiri hissed, slamming her arrows down. the other women ducked their heads to avoid her anger. "that child is very much wanted. in a million years, i would not believe i would grow so close to a human child, but it has happened. i chose to stop lying to myself long ago."

the woman scoffed, looking around the circle incredulously. "are you hearing what you are saying? we fought hard to eradicate the sky people from our land and you have one growing among us."

neytiri glared. "once, the great mother brought a sky person into our lives, and look at the good that's come of it. eywa watches over this child in the same way. she is special."

despite neytiri's argument, the other women continued to nudge their kids into neteyam's daily routine

for a week, you barely saw him

you stayed in the hut, like usual, watching them play in the grass outside

you rarely emerged from the safety of your home in fear of the judgmental looks you'd receive—it was fine, until you had a brother to miss.

"why don't you go out there?" jake crouched beside you. "m'sure neteyam would appreciate a familiar face."

you gave him a weird look that clearly said no.

he sighed and brought your head into his side, hugging you tightly. in these moments, he didn't know what to say to you. he had no qualifications for being a father, for shaping a young one's whole life, and it was becoming all the more real to him in this instance.

he was about to speak up when you mumbled, "i know they don't want me here."

jake cursed internally. "they... they just misplace their hatred and anger, baby. that kinda stuff is for adults only. they should know better than to denounce a perfect little angel like you." he smiled, pinching your cheek gently.

silence filled the room once more.

you looked up at him, fighting with feelings of unease you couldn't name. "... you want me here, right?"

jake's heart split in two. he cupped your face firmly, holding your gaze. "y/n. 'course i want you here, baby. you're my first little girl, and i would never give you up, not for anyone. i don't care if our life is a little different because you're around. besides, you've more than proven your ability to hold your own."

his declaration warmed your heart until you felt like there was a furnace of love burning inside you.

"i was once human too, you know. you remember, don't you?" he paused as you nodded. "see? for you and us, it's not about being human or na'vi. it's about being our little girl and us being your parents. that's the type of thing where it doesn't matter what you are. you could be... i dunno."

"a worm?"

he chuckled. "yeah. you could be a worm and i'd still love you to death."

a thud caught both of your attention. neteyam grunted as he propped himself up again.

"huh?" you glanced out the window. the other na'vi kids were still out there. you hopped off the windowsill and rushed to his side, helping him stand. "what are you doing back here? your friends are still outside."

he just made a face of distaste, shaking his head.

"looks like he prefers big sis instead." jake grinned, squeezing your shoulders as he passed by. "you two be safe—y/n, no funny business. and don't think about starting a fire."

he left you two playing as he went to have a word with some clan members.

kiri

since both of you were adopted, you related to kiri in a way. you were determined to make sure she didn't feel different, especially in light of her affinity for eywa and natural things

when you and the others would go out to play, kiri would run off

you'd find her lying on the ground, embracing the earth

"kiri!" you gasp, falling to your knees beside her. you carried lo'ak on your back as neteyam toddled beside you. "you can't just run off like that on your own!"

she sat up in a daze, blinking slowly. the grass around her fell back into a lifeless state but the seeds of eywa still hung around. you gently pushed one from ticking your face.

she looked a bit sheepish, averting her eyes as she stood up to follow you. you frowned and sighed, helping lo'ak off your back. you took her hand and flopped back onto the ground.

"you know what... a couple more minutes couldn't hurt." you groaned as you stretched. you tucked your arms under your head, getting comfortable. kiri smiled and reclined beside you.

in that moment, it was as if all the energy in space aligned and you were plucked from your physical form and woven into the stream and cycle of all the energy and consciousness of pandora.

early on, you knew kiri wasn't a fighter

as in, not a let's ride into battle on the back of an ikran guns blazing type of fighter

you started teaching her about the different herbs, plants, and fruits around pandora

she sucked in everything you taught her like a sponge and soon enough it got to a point where you two were learning together

you entered the tent with a thick book clutched tightly against your chest. "kiri!" you whispered urgently.

she perked up, dashing across the room.

you let the book drop onto the ground with an oof, flipping it open. "look, kiri, it's your ma's journal!" you grinned, showing her dr. augustine's signature. you figured you'd leave out the part how you swiped it from norm and max's lab.

her face brightened at the familiar name, staring at the journal in wonder. she flipped through it, but couldn't recognize any of the text. it was all written in english, with bits of na'vi scattered here and there.

"read to me?" she asked, nudging the journal to you. she snuggled into your side as you read her birth mother's findings and conclusions to her.

jake and neytiri found you two sleeping soundly against each other.

lo'ak

lo'ak was an instigator from day one

literally came out the womb quarrelling with everyone

mo'at let a lengthy exhale escape her lungs. neytiri had just given life to her second son, lo'ak, and the boy just would not stop crying. despite all her years as a mother and tsahik, nothing she did soothed her youngest grandson.

"is he hungry?" jake offered, earning dark glares from both his wife and mother in law.

"jake."

"don't you think we tried that?"

he shrunk away, holding neteyam in his arms. he leaned against the wall beside you, giving you a shrug that said hey, i tried.

you pursed your lips, a paradoxical mix of concern and annoyance bubbling up inside of you at lo'ak's wailing. you stood, ducking under mo'at's arm and climbed onto the side of neytiri's bed. she was still talking to mo'at while rocking lo'ak in her arms.

you studied him as he cried, your patience declining by the second. with a sharp but gentle tug to his neural braid, you directed his attention to you. "what are you so upset about, lo'ak? you literally just got here." you whispered urgently.

almost surprised, his cries died down to hiccups and whimpers. you sat back as the adults in the room peered over the newborn.

"ahhh, there he is. poor baby, it's alright." mo'at smiled, stroking lo'ak's head gently. neytiri cooed softly, kissing his bald head repeatedly.

lo'ak found you very cute, though, and was extra gentle when playing with you

you were 11, and neteyam just turned 7, and both kiri and lo'ak were 6 (kiri just a couple months older than lo'ak)

so you had a whole litter of hyperactive kids

you were an overworked big sister lol

and lo'ak was a middle child through and through — with neteyam being the eldest and kiri being a special case, lo'ak didn't get a lot of chances to stand out

thus starting a rebellious streak

but he always got a loooot of love and attention from you

"these are the ones you want, lo'ak?" you hummed. you swirled the bowl around, watching the beads roll at the bottom. "i like the blue."

he fell into your lap with a grumble, his back to you. you just snickered. "what'd you get grounded for this time?"

he scoffed and crossed his arms. "don't wanna talk about it."

"okay." you pat his shoulder before taking out his old braids.

a beat passed.

"all i did was follow neteyam outside. so what if i tried to use his bow?" he complained.

you smiled as he ranted—it was like clockwork.

"it's not like he tried to stop me, either. i didn't even come that close to hurting anything. my aim was off." he complained. "besides, weren't you doing stuff like that when you were younger than i am?"

"yeah," you answered, massaging his scalp. "but i actually sat through all my lessons."

he scoffed, stewing in silence.

you softened. "sorry. don't want a lecture, huh?" you continued to do his hair, and slipping in the beads he wanted.

"next time, you and i should go together." he muttered. "i'm done hanging around little mr. perfect."

"bold words from the kid who looks up to little mr. perfect." you gave him a knowing look and he huffed, avoiding your gaze.

you pat his head and made little jazz hands. "tadaaa. all done!"

he didn't move from your lap.

"lo'ak, i'm done—"

"i know." he muttered softly. you understood what he needed. you laughed and hugged him tightly. he wasn't so little anymore—none of them were. your laughter was infectious and he started to smile, too.

"house arrest isn't that bad. you can hang out with me while the others gotta train with mom and dad." you said, self-satisfied.

he smiled, rolling his eyes. "i guess."

you stood, rifling through your trunk of stuff. "maybe bow and arrows aren't your thing. wanna try a gun instead?" you held one up.

lo'ak's ears stood up, his eyes wide. "y/n!" he exclaimed, looking around as he lowered his voice. "how do you even have that?!"

"dad taught me." you grinned, swiftly removing the bullets. can't be too safe. "just don't tell anyone, okay?"

he matched your grin, nodding fervently. he ran to your side and eagerly watched your demonstrations.

tuk

for 7 years, it was just you, neteyam, kiri, and lo'ak. then all of a sudden, neytiri and jake announced they had another on the way

everyone was excited of course, and the debate on whether it was going to be a boy or girl was lively

you, personally, hoped for a baby sister

you had two baby brothers already! and they were handfuls.

when tuk finally came, lo'ak and kiri were 7, neteyam was 8, and you were 12

she learned to walk and speak faster to keep up with everyone

this set the precedent for how she hangs out with each other too

"tuk." lo'ak groaned, stopping to wait for the youngest sully. "you were the one who said you could keep up."

"i can!" she whined, clumsily hopping across the small gap between branches.

lo'ak rolled his eyes, walking off to join neteyam in the front. kiri was off... somewhere, connecting with the energy of everything probably.

you shook your head at your brother's behavior. you offered your hand to tuk, pulling her up onto the branch.

"they're so mean to me," she fussed. "they never wait for me."

"i know, tuk. give yourself a year or two and you'll be as fast as them in no time."

she grumbled, strolling alongside you. "you're smaller than i am. how do you keep up with them?"

you blew a raspberry. "lots of practice."

she started skipping, the branch teetering under her steps. "i just wanna hang out with them."

"they don't do anything cool anyway," you whisper to her conspiratorially. "it's all about shooting arrows and training these days. come on," you held out your hand. "i got something better for us."

she beamed and slotted her hand in yours. you both ran off together, all giggles and whoops of excitement.

you got to the end of the path, leaping off the branch and into the waterhole below.

she screamed, coming to a halt at the edge of the branch. "it's too high!"

you surfaced, wading onto shore. "don't worry, tuk, it's deep enough to break your fall!"

"i'll miss the water!"

"trust me!" you yell up to her. she made a brief sound of protest before stepping back. screwing her eyes shut, she ran with all her might and jumped off. she screamed all the way down.

you laughed at her, blocking your face from the splash. she surfaced with a gasp, laughing brightly.

"i did it!"

the early years were the easiest. but once the sky people returned, everything was different.

!! from now on, i'm gonna make alternating parts—one storyline following the events of atwow and the other just a compilation of fluff/comfort scenarios. for example, the next part is gonna be plot based and then the following part is just gonna be silly goofy moments. and it'd keep alternating til the atwow plot is done !!

thanks for reading!!

taglist : @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce (for some reason you couldn't be tagged, i'm sorry!!)

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vxnillabxn · 20 days ago

Note

hiii👋 i'd like to request the lads men's reaction to being picked up! sometimes i feel like some writers underestimate/ don't acknowledge how physically strong mc is. although the guys weight isn't specified i feel like she could easily pick up a well-fit man 😌

your writing is amazing and i'm always amazed by your posting frequency (and quality)! hope you're doing fine and stay hydrated!! 💞

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x fem!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, just a teeny tiny bit suggestive! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚mc is not dainty nor frail AT ALL, she can kick ass while having HEART ISSUES!!! mc, we love you over here ♡ thanks for requesting! this was so much fun to write~ and i tried to keep it light and a bit funny, too! (fem!reader in mind, but no fem!pronouns used!)

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

you were lazily sprawled on the sofa, with one of your legs dangling and swaying with boredom.

caleb was hugging said leg loosely, scrolling through his phone as he too wanted to entertain himself.

or both of you, preferably.

“no way,” he suddenly mumbles, looking up at you from his phone. “pips, look.”

he shows you an advertisement for a weightlifting contest back in linkon city.

“30k diamonds for the winner? geez… i might as well try!”

you say confidently, suddenly sitting up to look over his shoulder.

he turns to you and smiles.

he knows you are strong, as you two arm wrestle to choose who gets to keep the last braised chicken wing —though he always lets you have it no matter the outcome.

“well, you'll have to lift a lot of weight, though. don't you wanna' practice a bit more, pipsqueak?”

you shake your head with a big grin on your face.

“i have my own way of training!”

and you didn't lie.

later that day, as he was cooking for both of you, you decided to take him by surprise.

he already knew you were behind him, obviously. he's used to your sneaky attacks, and he can also catch your scent whenever you're nearby.

he expected you to scream, to poke his sides, to tickle him.

but what he didn't expect was for you to wrap your arms around his back…

for a moment, he smiled lovingly.

…for a very, very brief moment.

soon enough, his feet left the ground. the spoon he was holding fell from his hand, and you easily took him away from the kitchen, just to walk a few steps to the left.

you put him down and sigh loudly.

“ha! not bad at all, huh?”

he's silent.

he has been relocated, now standing in front of the sink.

well, yeah, he knew you were capable of doing whatever you put your mind and body into, and you seemed very eager about the competition.

but he just… didn't think he'd be your training equipment.

“hm! the salad needs more dressing, though. but the gravy is awesome! keep it up!”

you softly pat his arm and leave him alone in the kitchen after tasting what he was working on before you “attacked” him.

why didn't he come up with this training method instead?

he could lift you up or do planks with you prettily sitting on his back.

but right now? he actually does want you to keep using him —not only to train, though—. after all, he's better than the small dumbbells you have stored away somewhere in your house back in linkon.

and he… low-key loved to have your body pressed to his, even if it was for a few seconds.

“pips, wait! let me help you set up your training routine!”

and there he goes, running after you.

he'll make sure you practice a lot; taking him from one side to the other, and having those pretty and strong arms of yours tightly secured around him.

and he also will train in case you back out for whatever reason.

he wants you to have your well-deserved 30k diamonds, even if he plans on giving them to you for your efforts anyway.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

you two decided it was a good idea to go on a date by the docks.

on a holiday.

with famous people holding meet-and-greets.

it was packed with people, to say the least.

but he had your fingers tightly intertwined with his, and he kept you close as he rambled about the different antiques that caught his eye.

you were sharing snacks, drinking iced tea, enjoying the fresh sea breeze…

everything was going relatively well.

until someone recognized rafayel from the interviews and magazines he had appeared in during the month.

and scandal ensued.

“oh my gosh, look over there!” you could hear a whiny voice, followed by squeals and gasps.

obviously, as there were other famous figures around, people assumed he was here to meet some of his fans, too.

in no time, you had a crowd of people running towards him —or rather, towards both of you, as you clung to his hand for dear life.

“cutie, you're breaking my bones.”

“raf, let's go.”

“no, but i can't be that rude!”

it was a hushed discussion between the two of you until the people got closer.

too close for comfort.

he patted down his pockets, and suddenly…

“wait, i forgot to bring a pen—!”

he couldn't even finish his sentence as he was thrown over a shoulder like a potato sack.

well, your shoulder, to be precise.

he gasped and held onto you as you managed to run and dodge the crowded streets.

you didn't stop until you reached a narrow street with little to no people around.

and you finally took a deep breath before setting him down.

“i told you we needed to leave.”

you say once you catch your breath.

he was stunned.

in fact, he was looking at you with surprise, amusement, and fear.

first of all, wow.

second of all, wow —wink, wink—.

third of all, you're his precious bodyguard, true.

but he didn't expect you to be that efficient, let alone carry him around and run as if he were nothing but a purse to you.

“if you wanted me all to yourself, you should've just asked, cutie.”

he whispered, pulling you close.

you had a deadpan expression on your face.

“we're going back home, raf.”

“wait, but i have coupons for fried shrimp cakes!”

and he pouted his lips just a little bit; enough for you to sigh.

“...fine. but we'll make it quick, okay?”

you finally held his hand again, and the two of you started to walk back to the docks.

after a brief silence, he spoke with a cocky grin.

“were you jealous?~”

and that was it.

that was the last straw.

you turned on your heels and dragged him back, not before stating firmly:

“we're going home!”

he protested, of course. but he could see from the corner of his eye a hint of something similar to jealousy in your eyes.

and he just smiled, letting you order him and guide him around.

he might ask you to carry him around —like the prince he is— more often, now that he knows you're pretty much capable of doing so.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

you two were on a mission.

…

okay, only you were on a mission, and he decided to join you, as he wanted to spend the night together.

things went downhill; he started throwing hands, and you were also fighting. let's just say you two were winning.

until the “bad guys” called for backup.

and being outnumbered —which usually wasn't an issue— became dangerous.

sylus was composed, honestly.

he was panting, he was sweaty…

but he wasn't worried or tired.

you, on the other hand, wanted to retreat. things were looking ugly, you felt a weird pressure in your chest, and you knew you were exceeding your limits.

he knew it too.

“sylus, let's go!”

he looked back at you, ready to approach.

but he was surrounded.

and when he was about to simply attack back, with no issue at all, you grew impatient.

you ran toward sylus, pushed and yanked away some of the men around him, and lifted him off the ground.

quite easily, you might add.

his expression was clearly a mix of surprise and amazement, yet you didn't have enough time —nor was it the appropriate time or place to laugh about it.

you carried him toward his parked motorcycle outside, and you sat him down on the front with a thud, before sitting behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“go, go, go!”

you urged him, and he didn't think twice.

the engine roared on the empty, dark street, and you two disappeared in seconds.

back at his place, you two were oddly quiet.

no teasing, no bickering…

he took you straight to the bedroom and made sure you were okay.

he checked for injuries, no matter how small or shallow.

he also checked for scratches and then leaned down to hear your heartbeat, checking if it was okay again.

you did the same with him, naturally.

though, of course, he had no visible injuries anymore.

“so, sweetie,” he began, pulling you on top of him as he sat down on the bed. “was that really necessary?”

you tilted your head, a bit puzzled.

“you mean… was retreating necessary? i think it was, sy.”

he looks at you, and then his lips curl up.

“that is not what i'm talking about. think again, kitten.”

you frown, but you realize in seconds.

right.

you carried this man's 6'2 body, and pretty much handled him like a life-sized ken.

“ah… well, drastic measures were needed, i guess.”

he hums, both acknowledging and reflecting on your words.

“i see. i guess i will have to rely on you more than i expected to.”

you look up at him, before nuzzling against his chest.

“yeah, no. don't expect me to carry you around whenever you get yourself in trouble.”

his chest grumbles slightly as he laughs, and he kisses your forehead.

“when i get in trouble? why, sweetie… i thought we were a team.”

you simply blow a raspberry in response, but you know it's true.

even when he willingly got his nose all up in your business, you couldn't deny how fun it was when he helped you out.

and, come to think of it… now that you know how easily you can manhandle him, maybe you'll be able to sneak up or surprise him.

seeing his shocked face and wide eyes, even if it was just for a few seconds, was the highlight of your “failed” mission.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

poor xavier wasn't able to sleep his daily… uh, 10 to 11 hours? was it more? you don't remember.

being undercover was usually fun, especially if you two got assigned together.

however, you two had to disguise yourselves as college students, with uniforms and all.

and, naturally, in order to remain unsuspicious, you had to follow an average student's routine and stay on campus.

and that meant waking up early, going to lectures, acting like everyone else, acquiring the same stress levels…

how fun!

you had no issue at all. in fact, you were reminiscing about those good times back in college.

xavier, however, was really good during lectures, but he was constantly yawning. the lack of sleep was defeating, and he wanted nothing more than for the fluctuations to disappear.

on the bright side, you two got to spend more time with each other, walk around campus, and imitate all those lovey-dovey couples you saw.

one day, you two had an atrocious project to work on. thankfully, you got to work in pairs, so you had fun doing it all day long.

unfortunately, he ended up passing out in your dorm, and the rules were quite strict about having people over after 10 p.m.

you didn't want to bring unnecessary attention to yourselves and potentially ruin everything, so you tried to be the perfect student.

so, as a perfect student would do, you tried to wake him up.

once. twice.

you tried poking his cheeks, shaking him, pulling some strands of his hair… but he was literally gone.

was he even breathing?

you sighed and stepped back, trying your best to come up with a solution.

and the only thing you could think of was taking him out yourself.

after stretching your arms and taking a deep breath, you lifted him bridal style, trying to move as quietly as possible across the hallway.

it took you some minutes, but you finally arrived at his door. you needed his key, but you had to put him down.

…

ah, he shifted.

his eyes fluttered open.

he looked up at you, then down at the floor, and finally at his closed door.

he took out his keys, stretched his arm out to open the door, and closed his eyes again to keep sleeping.

you were speechless.

he didn't even question how you were able to carry him so easily; he was delighted, actually. being in your arms, lulled by your scent and your ragged breathing…

this little demon.

you got inside his dorm room, and debated whether to throw him on his bed, or carefully place him down.

you chose the latter.

you knew he needed to sleep, and… he looked adorable with his head tilting back and his legs dangling from your arms.

before you could return to your dorm, he took your hand.

“thank you.”

he softly said, before going back to sleep and snoring softly once again.

“anytime, xav.”

you smooched his forehead and finally left to your own room, when you felt a light tapping on your shoulder.

a professor.

“excuse me, what part of 'no visits after 10 p.m.' did you not understand? come with me, immediately.”

ah, dang.

well, here goes your mission.

you can't complain, though. it was fun while it lasted.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

“can we please exchange caaaards?”

you begged, holding a ridiculous “1” orange card, as well as a “2” green one.

zayne sighed, shaking his head.

“we've exchanged cards thrice already.”

you huffed, putting your cards down.

“come on! my luck sucks today! pretty pleaseeeee?”

he looks up at you, then down at his cards.

“...no.”

how dare he?

“i'll buy you tons of stuff before we leave, i promise!”

he still doesn't budge. rather, he gestures at you —gently— to keep playing, as it is your turn.

“fine. i'll win the next two rounds! just you wait!”

and so you two keep playing, and… it isn't looking good at all for you.

whenever you spot a colored cup and you want to place the same colored card, he does it first.

and it is always a “6”.

a doubled “6”.

“oh, this game is rigged!”

there is a soft smile on his face before he shakes his head.

“it is just a game. i can always let you win.”

“no! i'll win with my own blood, sweat, and tears!”

and so the last round begins.

and you finally, finally pick up good cards!

a “5”, a “6”...

yes, you're optimistic about your chances.

however, you don't notice when your blue “6” card falls out of your hands, and when it is your turn to play, you can't find it anywhere.

“hey love, did you take my card?”

he looks at you, then back at his deck.

“i did not.”

he shifts just a bit, and you frown, a bit suspicious.

“you sure?”

he nods once again, reassuring you. his gaze seems sincere, but his body language?

he hid your card under his seat.

you're certain.

—the poor card is under you, actually.—

“stand up,” you say, and he gives you a questioning look. “...please.”

he shakes his head.

“i do not have your card, love.”

“well, if you don't have it, there's no problem if you stand up, right?”

he leans back and arches one eyebrow.

oh, he wants war?

he'll have war.

you stand up and look at him, before putting both your hands under his armpits and lifting him up, like you would with a toddler.

he freezes, and you freeze too when you see that your card isn't under him.

you eventually put him back down, fixing his coat and glasses for him.

“uhm… sorry, zaynie, i thought…”

you soon notice your missing card on the floor, and you feel even more guilty.

he is silent, processing the information; the way you lifted him as if he were as light as a feather, the way you put him down just as easily…

well, naturally, he knew you trained constantly.

but he trained too, so he was solid and very tall.

and he never pictured something like this happening.

ever.

“so, uh… you won… three times in a row! yay!”

you smile awkwardly.

he just stands up, grabs your hand quietly, and guides you outside the playroom.

“wait, hey! no, i'm sorry! are you mad? i was only playing, love!”

“i hope your offer is still up.”

ah, buying tons of stuff for him before leaving?

but that was only valid if he exchanged cards with you!

“hey! that's not—”

he looks at you with a stern look on his face…

but with a cute, blushy, and pink nose.

did he actually like what happened?

or is this a punishment for being a brat?

he'll probably just ask for coffee or sweets anyway, so why not apologize the way he wants you to?

especially since he is still holding your hand, a bit tighter than usual… and with a warm, slightly sweaty palm.

you just hope he doesn't give you a lecture later —and that he doesn't teach you a lesson later at night, either. cof, cof.

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