#to the surface and beyond and like. between that n his name

[poutysprouty]

THE OFFERING

The gods demand an offering. But they don’t want just any sacrifice—they want you. Trapped between two alphas, you’re fucked, bitten, knotted, and worshiped until you’re marked as theirs forever.

pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x FemOmega!Reader x Alpha!Gojo

warnings: 18+ MDNI. Sukugo x Reader, Sukuna x Gojo x Reader, Alpha/Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, dubcon elements (you’re literally being sacrificed), power imbalance, breeding (implied), size difference, rough sex, crying during sex, mating bond, dual mating marks, knotting, multiple knotting, praise, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, heat cycles (kinda?), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, body worship, aftercare, biting, reader is described as ‘small’ but only because Sukuna and Satoru are massive.

wc: 5.4k

a/n: I've been trying to do more oneshots & writing exercises to get used to writing with gods/deities/fantasy elements, and this is one of the projects that came from that! Enjoy!

The air was thick with smoke, heavy with the cloying perfume of burning herbs and oil-soaked incense. The sharp, heady scent coiled around you, filling your lungs, clinging to your skin, seeping into your blood. Every breath made your head swim, your pulse quicken.

You stood at the center of the ancient stone altar, barefoot on cold, smooth rock worn down by centuries of sacrifice. The ceremonial silks they’d draped over you were thin and nearly translucent, offering no protection against the mountain’s midnight chill. But even as goosebumps prickled your skin, heat flushed beneath the surface, building low in your belly. The incense worked its insidious magic, blunting the edges of fear and replacing it with something far more dangerous. Want. Need. Hunger.

All around you, masked figures knelt in perfect circles, heads bowed, chanting in ancient tongues. The words were foreign, guttural, and rhythmic, vibrating the very air like a living heartbeat. Low drums accompanied them, the steady pulse deep and primal, vibrating through your bare soles, syncing with your own heartbeat.

You had no name here. No voice. No choice.

You were simply The Offering.

The sacred rite had been passed down through countless generations, an ancient covenant struck long ago. Once every generation, the gods demanded tribute. An omega. Unclaimed, untouched, fertile. You were chosen. Selected not just for virtue, but for biology. For your scent. Your purity.

Above you, the full moon hung heavy, swollen and bright in the black velvet sky, its silver light catching on the winding silver designs painted across your bare arms and thighs. The cold wind brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, though not all of them were from the night air.

Tonight, the gods would come.

Sukuna. The War God. Chaos incarnate. His name was spoken in fearful whispers. He was the embodiment of carnal hunger made flesh.

Satoru. The Trickster. God of Light and Madness. Beautiful. Dangerous. Seductive. His laughter could both charm you and drive you to insanity. His power was as blinding as it was deceptive.

You knew the stories. Knew that none who were offered had ever returned.

The wind shifted, and the villagers raised their voices higher, almost frantic in their chanting now. The drums pounded like a heartbeat growing closer. The shadows beyond the altar began to thicken unnaturally, twisting and coiling like black tendrils of smoke, writhing as though alive.

The gods were answering.

Your breathing hitched, heart hammering against your ribcage. The drugs in the incense dulled the instinctive terror curling in your gut, melting it into something softer, hotter. A strange warmth bloomed in your abdomen. You could feel your slick already beginning to gather between your thighs, your omega instincts betraying you under the pull of the ritual.

The chanting stopped.

For a breathless moment, the world was utterly silent.

And then, they arrived.

From the deepest shadows at the altar’s edge, a figure emerged: massive, towering, and monstrous. Four burning crimson eyes blinked open in the dark. Muscles flexed beneath inked skin as claws scraped against stone. The heavy scent of pure, unrestrained alpha pheromones crashed into you like a tidal wave, thick and suffocating. Your knees wobbled as your body instinctively submitted, heat spiking with terrifying intensity.

Sukuna.

He prowled forward like a great beast, eyes locked on you, lips curling into a sharp, feral grin that bared pointed teeth. Every inch of him radiated power. The villagers bowed lower, trembling beneath his gaze, but he ignored them completely.

All of his attention was for you.

You barely had time to register the second presence before another shift in the air brushed against your skin; something lighter, brighter, but no less terrifying.

Satoru.

He stepped from the opposite side of the altar, silvery-white hair catching in the moonlight, pale skin glowing almost ethereal. His expression was soft, playful even; a cruel contrast to the power that seeped from him. The Trickster’s pheromones wrapped around you like silk, warm and inviting, but beneath the sweet perfume of light was something far darker. Something hungry.

“Look at her,” Satoru’s voice purred through the heavy air, melodic and amused. “They’ve brought us such a sweet little thing this time.”

Sukuna inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing as he drank in your scent. “She’s ripe,” he growled, his voice low and vibrating through your bones. “Close to heat.”

Your body betrayed you, a soft whimper escaping your lips as your thighs pressed together. Their combined scents were suffocating, saturating the air until your head spun. Instinct clawed its way to the surface, driving you toward submission even as your mind screamed in protest.

Satoru was beside you in an instant. You didn’t even see him move. One moment he stood at the edge of your vision, the next he was pressed against you, his overwhelming presence enveloping you like a shroud. Cool, elegant fingers brushed your cheek with deceptive gentleness, trailing slowly down the column of your throat, stopping to rest just above your pulsing scent gland.

“Don’t be afraid, little omega,” he whispered softly, his lips grazing your ear. “It’ll be okay.”

Behind him, Sukuna’s growl deepened, vibrating through your very bones. His claws flexed in the air as though restraining himself from simply grabbing you outright. The hunger pouring off him was thick and oppressive, radiating from his massive frame like waves of heat rolling through the dark night.

And then the shift happened.

Their scents, once distinct, began to bleed into one another, swirling in the charged air around you. Instead of clashing, they wove together. The combined pheromones were a drug stronger than the incense thickening your lungs. They wrapped around your senses, seeping into every nerve, dissolving the fragile boundary between fear and desire.

Your knees wobbled. Your vision blurred. The heat blossoming low in your belly thickened, hot and urgent.

You barely had time to gasp before Satoru’s hand slid firmly around your waist, and Sukuna’s claws hooked beneath your chin, forcing your gaze upward.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a feral grin. “Enough ceremony,” he growled. “She’s ready.”

The world around you shuddered, reality bending and snapping almost unnaturally under their power. A swirling vortex of energy coiled beneath your feet, pulling at your body. Before you could even draw breath to scream, you were gone, teleported through space itself.

The cold mountain air vanished, replaced by oppressive warmth as your body was deposited onto something soft.

You landed on your back, sinking into rich layers of thick fur and silk.

The room was enormous.

You blinked rapidly, chest heaving as you tried to take in your surroundings. Towering arched ceilings stretched high above, carved from polished obsidian that gleamed like black glass in the flickering torchlight. Rich crimson drapes hung from golden beams, heavy and decadent, rippling softly as if they were breathing with the gods’ presence. Gold filigree lined ancient symbols across the dark stone walls, markings of power and devotion, of blood and eternity.

And at the very center of it all was the bed.

It was massive: larger than any mortal bed, wide enough for multiple bodies. Deep burgundy silks pooled across its surface, the sheets so soft and pristine they shimmered under the warm amber glow of crystal lamps embedded in the walls. Furs from creatures you could not recognize layered the bedding, promising a comfort you had never known. Dozens of pillows in shades of wine, midnight, and deep gold were scattered across the surface.

The scent here was thick. Heavier than outside. It clung to every fiber of the room. It was clear that this was their den.

You barely had a moment to orient yourself before large hands seized you again.

Satoru hauled you upright, pulling you onto your knees in the center of the massive bed, your smaller body sinking slightly into the plush furs beneath. His chest pressed against your back, his heat rolling over you, hands sliding over your sides in a slow caress, as though he were mapping every inch of your exposed skin. His lips found your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your racing pulse.

“You look even more beautiful here, little one,” he murmured.

Before you, Sukuna approached, his crimson eyes gleaming. His clawed fingers captured your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

And then he claimed your mouth.

The kiss was brutal, nothing like Satoru’s gentle touches. Sukuna devoured you, his tongue invading your mouth, sharp teeth scraping your lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood. The rich copper taste bloomed between you, and Sukuna growled in satisfaction, savoring your very essence.

You whimpered against him, your body trembling as Satoru’s hands continued their exploration. They came up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over already-pebbled nipples as his breath warmed your ear.

“So responsive,” Satoru whispered.

With one swipe of his claws, Sukuna sliced through the thin ceremonial silk still clinging to you. The fabric fell away in delicate ribbons, slipping off your flushed skin like water, exposing every inch of you to their ravenous eyes.

You were completely naked, tiny between them.

Towering figures of raw, predatory power surrounded you, their sheer size and strength dwarfing you. You could feel your heartbeat thrumming against Satoru’s chest as he pressed against you, as though he could sense your terror and delight alike.

“Look at her, Satoru,” Sukuna rumbled, his voice vibrating with pleasure. “So soft. So perfect.”

Satoru hummed in agreement, one hand sliding lower, fingertips ghosting along your belly. “And already dripping for us.”

Your hips jolted as Sukuna’s claws dragged slowly up the insides of your trembling thighs, spreading you wider without resistance. His claws skimmed the slick pooling between your legs, coating his fingers with your arousal.

“Do you feel it yet, little omega?” Sukuna asked softly. “Your heat is here.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Your body arched on its own, back pressing into Satoru’s solid chest, thighs opening as instinct overtook you. Their combined scents, now fully entwined, crashed into your senses like a tidal wave, forcing your heat to come forward.

Satoru chuckled darkly against your neck. “There it is,” he whispered, voice full of delighted praise. “Our good little omega.”

You whimpered as Sukuna’s claws hovered just above your slick entrance, not yet touching, making your whole body tremble in anticipation. His eyes burned into yours, predatory and starved.

Sukuna’s lips pulled back into a sharp grin as your thighs trembled beneath his gaze. His claws curled around the backs of your knees, spreading them wider, forcing your legs open until you felt the cool air kiss your slick, swollen folds. You gasped, body helplessly exposed, every nerve stretched taut with anticipation.

“So wet,” Sukuna murmured, voice rich and low, vibrating through your skin like a second heartbeat.

Behind you, Satoru’s hands continued their slow exploration of your body, his movements tender in contrast to Sukuna. His fingers slid back up your sides, teasing along your ribs and over your collarbones before cupping your breasts fully, thumbs flicking over your sensitive nipples. The sensation made your breath hitch, arching your back instinctively into his touch.

“That’s it, little omega,” Satoru cooed softly, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder, his lips dangerously close to your scent gland.

You whimpered as Sukuna lowered his face between your legs. His breath was hot against your aching core, fangs gleaming as he watched your glistening hole twitch under his stare.

Then his tongue dragged up the full length of your slit in one long, broad stroke, tasting you for the first time.

The sensation sent a violent shudder through you, your hips jerking, back arching as your head rolled back onto Satoru’s shoulder. Sukuna growled approvingly, lapping slowly, savoring every drop of slick that dripped freely from your heat. His tongue was skillful, not rushing, as though content to feast on you endlessly, drawing out your helpless whimpers.

Satoru groaned softly against your ear. “Listen to those sounds, Sukuna,” he whispered, voice dripping with amusement and hunger. “She loves it.”

You couldn’t speak. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan as Sukuna’s tongue curled, seeking out your most sensitive places. His lips sealed around your swollen clit, sucking with just enough pressure to make your legs quake.

And while Sukuna feasted on you, Satoru pressed his lips against yours, catching your gasps in a deep kiss.

The kiss was sweet and teasing, a sharp contrast to the wild hunger building below. His tongue played with yours, coaxing, pulling soft sounds from your throat. His hands massaged your breasts in slow, deliberate motions, rolling your nipples between his fingers, sending electric sparks of pleasure straight to where Sukuna was devouring you.

You could feel the orgasm building, rising dangerously fast under their combined attention.

Sukuna growled against your core, the vibration of his voice sending another sharp jolt through you. “She’s close,” he rumbled. “Her little cunt is pulsing.”

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart,” Satoru murmured, his breath hot against your cheek, lips tracing the curve of your jaw. “Let go for us.”

You sobbed, unable to stop it, as Sukuna’s lips latched onto your clit while two thick fingers pressed into your slick entrance, stretching you open in slow, relentless pumps. His fingers were long, slightly rough, curling upward with expert precision as your walls fluttered and squeezed around him.

Your vision flashed white.

Your orgasm crashed over you in a violent wave, a cry tearing from your throat as your hips bucked helplessly against Sukuna’s face. He didn’t slow, didn’t let up, forcing you to ride the wave until you were gasping for air, body trembling uncontrollably.

“That’s our good little omega,” Satoru whispered, kissing away the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. “You’re doing so well for us.”

Sukuna finally pulled back, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick, eyes glowing with predatory satisfaction as he lazily licked his lips, savoring every drop like it was the finest nectar.

Behind you, Satoru pressed closer, his chest warm against your back, breath tickling your ear, velvet-soft as he whispered to you. “Are you ready to be filled, little omega?”

Your mind swam in the thick, hazy fog of heat and pheromones. You could barely think, barely breathe. But your body answered for you, your hips rocking forward in a desperate plea to offer yourself, surrendering fully to them.

Satoru’s hum of approval was soft. “Good girl.”

Sukuna didn’t wait another moment. You felt his cock press heavy against your entrance. You whimpered as the broad head pushed forward, spreading you open inch by agonizing inch.

The sheer size of him was overwhelming, forcing your body to yield slowly to the invasion. Your muscles quivered, instinctively trying to tighten, but Sukuna growled low, one hand sliding to your belly, pressing firmly to keep you still.

“Relax,” he commanded, voice deep, vibrating through your bones. “You can take it, little omega. You will take all of me.”

You cried out softly as his cock sank deeper, the thick veins dragging along your sensitive walls, your slick coating him as he filled you inch by thick inch. You felt impossibly full already, your belly bulging slightly because of his size.

Behind you, Satoru’s hands roamed your trembling body softly. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles along your waist, sliding upward to cup your breasts, smoothing down over your lower belly to press down, making you cry out.

“You’re taking him so well,” Satoru whispered against your ear. “So perfect. Look at you.”

Your vision blurred, tears of overstimulation threatening as Sukuna finally bottomed out with a deep, satisfying growl. You felt his hips flush against your ass, every thick inch buried inside you, stretching you in a way that bordered on pain, yet made your omega instincts sing with satisfaction.

And then he moved.

With no further warning, Sukuna began to thrust, driving into you with enough power that the bed began to creak beneath you. The wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding echoed in the vast chamber, the slapping of flesh against flesh mixing with your broken moans and Sukuna’s rumbling growls.

“Listen to those sweet sounds,” Satoru murmured softly. “Our precious omega can’t help herself.”

Sukuna angled his hips just slightly, and your entire world shattered. His cock dragged directly against your g-spot with each ruthless thrust, forcing a high, strangled sob to fall from your lips. You could feel your orgasm building again, quickly spiraling out of control under the brutal pace.

“Cum for me,” Sukuna snarled, voice low and commanding, fangs gleaming. “Squeeze me tight, little one.”

Your entire body clenched helplessly around him as the orgasm crashed over you, your cries echoing off the obsidian walls as your muscles spasmed, your walls pulsing around Sukuna’s thick length. He groaned at the feeling, his cock slamming even deeper into you, chasing his own release.

But before he could reach it, Satoru’s voice interrupted. “My turn.”

Sukuna growled but pulled out slowly, savoring your whimper at the loss. His cock was slick, shining with your release, twitching as it hovered near your fluttering entrance. Satoru shifted you gently, lowering you back onto the bed’s plush, thick furs.

“My beautiful little omega,” Satoru purred as he knelt between your spread thighs. His cock pressed against your swollen entrance, smaller than Sukuna’s massive girth, but thick and long enough to make you whimper as he began to press inside.

Your slick-coated walls eagerly welcomed him, still spasming from the orgasm Sukuna had forced from you. Satoru filled you quickly, the stretch still sharp but slightly easier now.

The moment he bottomed out, he began to roll his hips in smooth strokes. He moved slower than Sukuna’s brutal pace, but it was no less devastating. Each movement was precise, designed to drag sensitive friction along your raw, overstimulated walls.

His fingers laced with yours, pinning your hands above your head as his glowing eyes bore into yours, filled with affection. “You feel so good, sweetheart,” Satoru whispered. “Your body’s perfect for us.”

You were floating, your mind blank with euphoria as Satoru’s pace drove you higher again, building your pleasure into another dizzying crescendo. His lips found yours, coaxing out whimpers with his kisses as his thrusts grew deeper, grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit with each motion.

You could feel your walls fluttering again, the orgasm approaching so fast that it made your head spin.

“That’s it, let go for me,” Satoru hummed against your lips. “Cum for your alphas.”

Your back arched as your body convulsed under the weight of your release, loud sobs breaking free as your walls milked his cock. Satoru moaned softly into your mouth, slowing his thrusts to let you ride out every pulse.

Off to the side, Sukuna watched you, licking his lips hungrily, eyes burning with need. “How many more times do you think we can make her fall apart, Satoru?”

Satoru laughed softly, breathless. “I think she’ll take everything we give her.”

And you did.

They continued to swap you between them—Sukuna’s brutal, punishing thrusts stretching you again and again, Satoru’s smooth, grinding pace pulling orgasm after orgasm from your trembling body. The world blurred into waves of pleasure, crashing endlessly, their hands guiding your pliant form.

You’d lost count of your orgasms long ago. Satoru had just pulled another from you, and now Sukuna was moving forward to take his place once more. He flipped you onto your stomach, hauling you onto your knees, one powerful hand gripping your waist as his cock pressed against your entrance.

This time, he didn’t ease in.

He slammed into you in a single thrust, forcing a ragged scream from your throat as he filled you. Your hips jerked, thighs quivering under his unrelenting pace.

And then you felt it.

The base of Sukuna’s cock swelled, the pressure mounting as his knot began to form, locking you to him. You gasped at the intense stretch, the feeling of being completely sealed, unable to pull away.

Sukuna’s growl deepened, vibrating through you as his lips pressed against the curve of your neck. “Ours,” he snarled, voice raw with hunger. “Mine.”

With no hesitation, his fangs sank deep into your scent gland.

The pain was sharp, a blinding flash. But the bond slammed into place quickly, exploding through you like a tidal wave of euphoria, flooding your body with burning heat and an overwhelming sense of belonging. Tears streamed down your cheeks as your body surrendered fully to the bond.

Sukuna’s knot pulsed, locking you together as his release filled you, thick, heavy warmth flooding your womb. You sobbed, overwhelmed, your mind spinning in the haze of heat and hormones.

Beside you, Satoru’s hand stroked your hair gently. “That’s our good girl,” he whispered.

Sukuna withdrew his fangs slowly, licking the wound with rough, possessive affection as your body sagged in exhaustion. Satoru leaned in as well, his tongue tracing along Sukuna’s fresh bite.

Sukuna’s knot pulsed inside you for what felt like eternity, locking you together as his seed filled you. Every pulse sent another rush of heat through your overstimulated core, making you twitch and whimper softly against the bedding, your body boneless beneath his powerful weight.

Finally, you felt the swollen base of him begin to shrink, slowly easing the pressure inside you. Sukuna exhaled deeply, releasing a low, satisfied growl as his knot deflated enough to allow him to withdraw. His length slid out of your stretched walls with a wet sound that made you tremble.

Even as your body sagged, limp, your legs quivering, your mind barely able to process the sudden emptiness, Satoru was already moving.

The moment Sukuna pulled back, Satoru surged forward like a predator finally being allowed to feed. His hands gripped your hips, spreading you wide, and before you could even catch your breath, the flushed head of his cock was already pushing inside.

There was no slow, careful easing this time.

With a hard snap of his hips, he buried himself inside you in one thrust.

You choked on a broken sob as your battered, swollen walls struggled to accommodate him. Your entire body jolted under the sudden intrusion, your oversensitive nerves screaming in protest as Satoru wasted no time setting a brutal pace.

His rhythm was fast, sharp, and relentless, hips slapping against your sore, slick flesh. The thick mixture of Sukuna’s seed and your own dripping slick allowed Satoru to glide in and out with ease, but it was the intensity of the stretch that made you cry out, your voice high and trembling.

“You’re perfect,” Satoru panted, voice breathless. “So good for us, taking both of us like you were made for it.”

Your body twitched beneath him, legs barely able to hold you upright as he fucked you mercilessly, chasing his own peak with none of his earlier restraint. Tears streamed freely down your flushed cheeks, your cries broken and babbling, your hands fisting desperately into the furs beneath you as your entire world narrowed to the overwhelming sensations.

“A-ah, too much,” you whimpered helplessly. “T-too full, I-I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Satoru cooed sweetly, leaning over your trembling form, voice tender even as his hips pistoned into you. “You’re doing so good for us. Our perfect little omega.”

He licked slowly along the raw, tender bite mark Sukuna had left on your shoulder, his tongue gliding over the swollen gland as you shuddered beneath him.

“Look how beautiful you are like this. Marked, filled, completely ours.” His voice was molten honey, wrapping around your fragile mind as you sobbed for him. “You were always meant for this.”

Your vision blurred again, the room dissolving around you as another climax began to build inside your core. Your slick gushed around Satoru’s cock as your walls convulsed helplessly.

He groaned at the way you squeezed him, adjusting his angle to drive even deeper, the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot with brutal accuracy.

The overstimulation was unbearable, and yet your body still craved more.

You sobbed openly now, your voice hoarse, babbling half-formed pleas even as your body trembled violently. “P-please, please, more, more, more—!”

Satoru laughed softly, affectionate and breathless. “Oh, you’re so perfect. You want everything we give you, don’t you, little omega?”

The air around you was completely saturated with their scents, heavy and suffocating, pressing into every corner of your mind. Your body shook uncontrollably because of it, nerves sparking with every hard thrust, your belly swollen from how they’d filled you.

The base of Satoru’s cock began to swell inside you, thickening with every thrust, forcing your walls to stretch wide to accommodate him. You sobbed as the pressure built, his knot forming quickly, pushing you toward a final peak.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Satoru panted against your ear. “Take my knot. Let me fill you.”

With one last sharp snap of his hips, Satoru forced the thick knot fully inside you, locking you together with a loud, wet pop. The stretch sent your mind spiraling, white-hot pleasure blinding you completely as you screamed, your body convulsing violently in his grasp.

Satoru’s hands curled around your waist, holding you firmly against him as his release filled you, thick ropes of hot seed flooding your already full womb. You could feel every pulse of it deep inside you, your belly tight and warm, fully stuffed by both of your alphas.

And then his teeth found your untouched gland.

He bit deep.

The sharp flash of pain was instantly overtaken by the surge of euphoria as the second mating bond slammed into place, completing the connection, binding you permanently to them both.

Tears streamed freely down your flushed cheeks as you shook violently, your entire body wracked with convulsions. Your chest heaved with ragged, desperate gasps, your voice reduced to choked sobs and broken cries as the bond surged violently through your very being.

The dual mating bonds roared to life within you, searing through every nerve, every cell, until you were no longer simply yourself. You were theirs.

Their scents filled your lungs with every breath, coating your skin, embedding into your mind, fusing with your instincts. The weight of them pressed in on you from every direction, drowning you in the unmistakable truth:

You belonged to them.

Satoru nuzzled against your ear, his breath hot and sticky against your damp skin. His lips trailed slow, lazy kisses along your temple before he licked across his fresh bite mark, soothing the raw, bruising skin. His low purr rumbled against your back.

“You’re ours now, little omega,” he whispered. “Forever.”

Sukuna’s hulking frame loomed close beside you. One massive hand cradled your head, claws sifting through your sweat-soaked hair with unnervingly gentle strokes. His voice came as a deep, dark rumble, vibrating straight through your fragile, spent frame. “Our perfect little mate.”

For a long while, they simply held you there, their breathing calm and even as you shivered against the plush furs.

“So beautiful like this…” Satoru breathed, lips grazing your ear. “Completely ours.”

“Made for us. Only us.” Sukuna’s growl thrummed from deep in his chest, his breath hot against your nape.

“No one else will ever touch you,” Satoru continued, voice sweeter than honey, though his eyes burned with something far more dangerous beneath the affection. “Only your alphas. Only us.”

The dangerous edge threaded through their gentle words made your belly twist, but not with fear. You were owned, yes, but you were also adored. Protected. Worshiped.

You felt Satoru’s swollen knot begin to soften inside you, the intense pressure stretching you from within gradually easing as his body released its tight hold on yours. With a wet pop, his cock finally slipped free of your swollen, slick walls, leaving you gaping and empty.

You whimpered instinctively at the emptiness, tears still streaking your flushed cheeks as you twitched involuntarily beneath them.

Satoru was already moving, shifting smoothly down your body, his hands stroking over your bruised hips with featherlight tenderness. He lowered his head between your quivering thighs, spreading them wider to gaze at your wrecked, raw entrance, glistening with the mix of your slick and both of their thick seed, still dribbling steadily from your abused cunt.

His tongue traced slow, soothing paths along the inner folds, careful as he licked away their combined essence.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” Satoru murmured against your sensitive flesh, the warmth of his breath sending shivers up your spine. “You did so good for us. You took everything. Such a perfect little omega.”

You trembled violently at every soft swipe of his tongue, your swollen, sensitive lips twitching and clenching beneath the attention. The shift between brutality and gentleness was dizzying, your mind unable to fully ground itself.

Sukuna’s large hands were everywhere, holding you close against his massive chest. You sagged limply into his embrace, the weight of your exhaustion making you pliant, like a doll being gently cradled. His claws traced soft lines up and down your arm, smoothing your goosebumped skin.

“You’ll never want for anything again.” Sukuna rumbled, lips brushing your temple with surprising tenderness. “We’ll keep you safe, protected. No one will ever hurt you.”

“No one will ever touch you,” Satoru echoed softly, finally pulling back, his lips shining with your combined juices. “Only us.”

The possessiveness in their words was absolute, but it wrapped around you like the softest blanket, warm and strangely comforting.

Sukuna stood, easily lifting your fragile body into his arms as though you weighed nothing. His massive hands held you carefully, one arm beneath your back, the other supporting beneath your trembling thighs. You whimpered softly into his chest.

“We’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your damp forehead.

Satoru followed closely as he carried you into the adjoining bathing chamber.

The bath itself was carved directly into the black stone, a steaming pool of mineral-rich water waiting for you in the center of the vast marble room. The air smelled faintly of warm herbs and soft floral oils.

Sukuna stepped into the steaming water, slowly lowering you into its depths, never releasing his hold until your limp form was cradled safely against his broad chest. The warm water enveloped you, immediately soothing the soreness in your muscles, though the raw ache between your legs continued to throb faintly.

Satoru slid in beside you, his pale hands gliding beneath the water to gently stroke along your calves, your thighs, your belly. His touch was careful, teetering on the edge of worship.

“No one will ever deserve you like we do,” Satoru whispered as he leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, lips brushing against Sukuna’s bite mark.

Their hands moved in sync, washing your skin with the softest cloths, tracing every mark they had left behind. Satoru tenderly wiped between your legs, delicately cleaning away the evidence of their claiming, murmuring soft, sweet praises with every careful stroke.

Sukuna’s claws combed slowly through your damp hair, massaging your scalp until you felt yourself melting into the safety of their hands.

Time slipped away into a slow, quiet rhythm as they bathed you, their touches careful and intimate. When the water finally cooled, and your exhaustion deepened into near-sleep, they lifted you once again from the pool, wrapping you in thick, plush furs before carrying you back to the massive bed.

The nest was waiting, layers of soft blankets and pillows piled into a warm cocoon. They laid you down gently at the center, then climbed into bed on either side of you, curling protectively around your spent body.

Satoru reached for a small platter resting nearby, offering you slices of sweet, dripping fruit, feeding you each bite between soft forehead kisses.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Eat for us, little omega. You’ll need your strength for later.”

Sukuna’s arm draped over your waist, his claws tracing soothing lines over your belly, palm pressing protectively against the swell.

“We’ll take care of everything now,” Sukuna rumbled softly. “You only need to rest.”

They continued to feed and pamper you, gentle nuzzling and soft touches keeping you grounded even as your exhaustion pulled you deeper.

As your eyes fluttered closed, the last thing you felt was the weight of both alphas curling even tighter around you, their breaths syncing with yours, their warmth cradling you.

[neuvistar]

LOTUS FLOWER. pt one.

— featuring ┊ genshin men (neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, kaveh, alhaitham) x f!pregnant reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊nsfw. not proofread. all consensual! mentions of breeding k!nk, t!tplay (neuvillette), vaginal fingering (lyney?), implied semi-public s3x (wriothesley), s!ze kink if u squint (alhaitham), dirty talk obvi, them being absolute sweethearts, reader implied 2 be physically smaller than them, cunnilingus (kaveh), nicknames used, overall suggestive content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊ this is part one guys!! part two will come soon! since i’m a little late for kinktober (oops) i’ve decided to try n do this thingy of my own </3 genshin men w a pregnant partner n maybe i’ll do separate oneshots too throughout the month if im not busy enough, i’ll try my best! i also took time 2 try n improve my writing style n i think it paid off.. anyways reblogs + feedback appreciated ! (guys i wroye this when i’m half asleep #help)

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄, 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

— "love, you're too cute when you pout like that," neuvillette chuckled, lightly pecking your cheeks with soft chaste kisses

NEUVILLETTE has always been your caretaker during your hard months of pregnancy, he was always there to aid you even if he had such a tight schedule! trust me, he’s always there to aid you no matter where he is.. oh you’re craving something? he already had it made and prepared downstairs for you to eat, oh you’re in pain? he’s already massaging your body to calm your nerves, oh you want him to get something for you? he’s already making his way downstairs to get it! let’s all be honest, this dragon is one of the sweetest darlings ever.. he’s just so thrilled that you’re carrying his little dragonlings, he couldn’t be happier! neuvillette’s so gentle with you.. even during intimate moments. neuvillette always has you laying down on a soft surface, his lips dancing across your flesh as his hair tickled your sensitive skin, he knows how to make sure you feel good.. sometimes he gets too lost in the moment he doesn’t even notice the littlest things! trust me, he knows how to make you feel good, he knows how to calm your hormones.. he knows how to pleasure you. neuvillette knows it all.

here you were, laid down comfortably on the mattress.. the sheets beneath you warming you up as you tugged on your husband’s white locks, emitting a soft grunt from him. neuvillette had been too caught up in the moment to notice only a little milk dripping from your other breast. instead, he kissed and sucked at your other one passionately, his hands caressing your waist in between bouts of fondling your tits. the sight of your exposed body sent a deep and primal wave of lust through him, it was enough to send him into pure euphoria as the feeling of your body against him was a kiss from the heavens above and the archons themselves. “my sweet angel," neuvillette whispered gently, his voice soft yet full of passion. "i want to love you from head to toe, i want every part of you to scream my name in delight.. i want you to experience pleasure beyond your wildest imagination. please, let me give you more litters of dragonlings inside this irresistible body of yours..”

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘, 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄

— “you’re positive, right? you sure you’re alright?” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against your neck

WRIOTHESLEY honestly never thought of having kids himself, but that all changed when you announced your pregnancy to him a few months prior.. he was thrilled! a little shocked and nervous to say the least, since he was nervous he wouldn’t be a good husband and father to your future kids but it went by smoothly, wriothesley had a major soft spot for you and only you. his face always fills with love and joy as he took note of your swollen and pregnant belly, sometimes he lets you wander around the fortress but sometimes he knows you’re sensitive to many smells and all that so he just keeps you in the house. but yet sometimes.. he has too much on his hands that he never has time to come home. visiting him at work became a frequent thing but he grew more protective of you, telling w few workers down at the fortress to scram if they bother you too much. wriothesley loves having you around his office, but yet, huh.. who knew visiting him here could also have it’s benefits.

wriothesley held your knees, his large hands engulfing your flesh as he grunted at the mere pulse of your pussy around his cock. he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, someone could walk in any moment but who was he to deny his own wife? he can’t deny you when you’re all shy and embarrassed like that.. asking him to fuck you and breed you just like he did those few months before, who was he to deny a request like that? the larger male had kept a slow and steady rhythm with you, he promised himself he wouldn’t listen to your begging.. begging for him to go faster. but i guess it’s fine to break promises every now and then, right? wriothesley picked up the pace as he rubbed his thumb against your clit, the feeling of his cock pounding deep inside your cunt was enough to send you to the moon. “fuck.. taking me so well, princess.. ‘gonna make me cum quicker than normal.” he whispered against your ear, caressing your belly ever so gently.. his gentleness corresponding with his harsh thrusts. “what, hm? you want someone to see you in this state? ‘want someone to catch me breeding my pretty pregnant wife in my office?— mm.. seems like y’do.. look at how much you’re sucking me in.”

𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄

— “oh? someone’s moody today.. did i do something wrong, sweetheart? you know i didn’t mean it, c’mon! talk to me.”

LYNEY was one of the main reasons for your constant smiles and giggles throughout the day, your baby isn’t even born yet and he’s already an excellent father! the magician always sits down and chats with you, chatting about all sorts of things. what you both can name your baby(s), what magic tricks he can teach to them, how adorable they’ll look in clothes he bought for them.. he’s excited to be a father and he makes that clear! he spreads the news to lynette and freminet, and sometimes he might accidentally spread the news throughout public eyes. i mean, in a positive way! lyney takes great pride in being the father of your kids, he wants you to stay healthy and happy so your pregnancy goes smoothly, that’s all he wants. lyney’s touch is always so gentle.. caressing you like you were a mere piece of glass he had to protect.. there was something about his touch that just never fails to make you squirm, he’s good with his hands, of course you know that.. he’s just so gentle with you in many ways possible, it drives you absolutely insane sometimes.

“yeah? you like that? hmm.. how about you show me where else you would like me to touch you, go on.” his voice was just as hypnotic as his gaze.. lyney’s lips pressed against your neck as he waited for you to show him. “c’mon, you can do this.” he urged you on, you could feel your hands moving on their own as your hands made their way to your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples in between your fingers with your mouth hung open in pure ecstasy, sending nothing but deep electric vibrations throughout your body. “l—lyney.. here. i want you to touch me here.” your voice was laced with honey, the magician could’ve sworn he could taste and sense the need and want in your tone, it only made him desire you more. “mm.. we both know that’s not all, sweetheart. show me another, and show me how you want me to touch you there.” your other hand came down slowly, lazily playing with your clit as your body shook at the even the softest touch. lyney hummed against your ear as he pressed his finger gently against your lips, trying to silence you as he gazed down at your swollen belly the blonde magician held you close, pumping two fingers inside your hole, smirking against your skin. “there, there.. good girl. such a good girl for me, are you?”

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇, 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓

— “alright.. i have this, this and this for you. do you need anything else? still hungry?”

KAVEH is a a good and caring husband.. though sometimes he’s a little too busy, which often frustrates you since he isn’t there to support and be by your side half of the time. honestly, you can’t blame him sometimes, he always comes home late with a shit ton of papers and piles and piles of sketches and drawings he made that day, kaveh’s always busy, you can’t stop or deny that. most of the time, he makes up to you by providing you with the things you like.. like food you’ve been craving! kaveh adores talking to his baby within your belly, always talking about how ‘papa is always there for them’ and how much he loves them. to put it in a more easier way, the young architect considers your pregnancy an absolute blessing, you were sure he kissed the floor and thanked every star in the universe when he found out you were expecting his little one, he was overjoyed! despite his busy tasks, kaveh will be willing to provide you with anything you want. especially pleasure.

“you want me to please you here?” his voice rung in your ears, nodding slowly as you bit your lip. you missed this, you missed him. kaveh had too many rough and difficult schedules already, you missed him and his touch.. you missed everything, but tonight he was gonna give it all. your lashes slowly fluttered open as your hands tightened your grip on his shoulder, kaveh smiled softly, his eyes looking deep into yours with affection. "i’m giving you what you want now, sweet angel.” the architect caressed your thighs as he slowly lifted your dress up and started to caress your stomach. "you’ve certainly become quite attractive with your pregnancy bumps," he whispered softly, smiling warmly before he allowed his urges take over, closing his eyes as his tongue mingled with your folds, giving small kitty licks before pushing himself further into you, savouring your juices. he was slow, yes.. but he wanted to get used to your taste again, flicking his muscle against your sensitive bundles of nerves as he allowed himself to get lost in your taste, palming the bulge through his pants. “let go, lovely. let me claim you once more.”

𝐀𝐋-𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌, 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐄

— “tell me, go on. what do you need? i’m in all ears.”

AL-HAITHAM is a hard individual to read, that’s for sure. sometimes you couldn’t really tell if he was happy about some story you decided to share with him and whatnot, but one thing you do know is that he’s absolutely thrilled about your pregnancy. alhaitham would be lying to himself if he said that the sight of your expanded belly didn’t awaken something in him. he’s always there, helping you around despite how busy he gets sometimes.. he’s calm and collected, sometimes you’d catch him talking to your baby when you’re asleep, talking about how pretty their mama is, and how excited he is to teach them about his own knowledge about this world they’re about to enter, he’s excited for his baby to be born and you know it. well.. maybe a little too exited.

he tried to be gentle, he really did. but you know he can’t resist you when you’re whining and whimpering like this, especially with that beautiful round belly of yours. alhaitham can’t help himself, really. he was needy, needy for you. he needed you and he needed you now. the scribe bit his lip as his large hands grabbed at your hips, lifting you further against him as his cock slid into your cunt so perfectly. alhaitham’s thoughts went blank at the sound of you calling his name in that way, as if you were speaking words of pure music. “mmh.. look at you. look at how good you’re taking me, even when you’re pregnant you’re still a slut for my cock now, aren’t you?” his hair fell onto his shoulders in wet clumps, “so fuckin’ full, so damn soft. you’re all round and smooth, the perfect body to bear our children." his dick buried myself into your walls, your juices coating it with white, “just like all my other possessions, this body is mine. maybe i should even put my name on it.. so damn perfect, yeah?”

[witchywithwhiskey]

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

[floralpools]

Hi love, you have an amazing imagination, and I love your writing style. I was wondering if you could maybe do some more with Wolverine. I'm in that x men stage again. And I loved you last piece of work on him. Maybe you could do a continuation of it or think of something completely new. Anyway, dont feel pressured ❤️

A/N: ur actually so sweet, thank uu! I'm also rlly shocked but appreciative of all the love Professor Howlett received, so u don't even have to ask twice for more, it's my pleasure ;)

Divided Attention

Professor Howlett II

Part one

Warnings: minors dni, Smut, fluff, language, jealousy, (legal) age gap, oral, f!receiving, semi-public

Pairing: Logan x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Things were going well with you and Logan, until he suddenly put distance between you both, acting strangely. On top of that, you catch him threatening one of your fellow classmates and have no choice, but to face your issues, head-on.

Word count: 2.6k

…

Any small moment together, Logan and I chased. The little highs we could derive from our busy schedules, we eagerly pursued.

From a quickie in the janitor's closet, a make-out session after class, or a passionate sleepover, Logan consumed every inch of my life. He was consuming every bit of my mind, and slowly, there was an ominous trepidation trailing behind him like a shadow.

The more I saw him, the greedier I became. Desperate to see and feel more of him—beyond the surface. So, it was no surprise, that I soon desired something more from our casual relationship.

With graduation just around the corner, I was almost home free. Free to outwardly tell him what I yearned for.

But the concern that racked my brain constantly, that trepidation, was whether he wanted the same.

As I was getting to know him, it was clear there were parts of him I had yet to discover, parts he seemed reluctant to reveal. Sometimes he would be open, close by my side. The next second, he would shut down.

What made matters worse, was that recently, he hadn't sought me out. It's felt as though he's no longer hungry for those small moments, that I still very much craved.

Now I'm on edge and have no clue what he's thinking, or what he thinks of us.

...

The day started like any other. I went to each class, exhausted and disinterested, till that afternoon. Something caught my eye, and the eyes of the school's populace: Logan pinning a male student to the wall of the vast, oak wood hallway.

They speak in hushed tones to one another, and the boy looks beyond frightened, while Logan looks ready to tear his head from his scrawny neck.

It takes only a moment for my alarm to pass, and for me to note, that this boy sits next to me in history.

A sharp intake of breath hitches in my throat.

His name's Mikey, and he has been a nuisance to Logan from the get-go, long before our intimate affair. Labelled as the class clown, Mikey uses his obnoxious voice and meddling powers to disturb Logan's lessons, daily. To top it off, Mikey consistently bothers me, mimicking what I say, and staring at my profile, for far too long.

Just when Logan dips his head closer to Mikey, perhaps to rip out his jugular, like the predator he is, Scott interjects.

"Logan! Drop him!" When Scott's unnerved voice orders Logan, my eyes snap to Mikey's feet, which are spraddled in the air, dangling for dear life.

I guess a few days apart made me forget just how strong he is. Maybe he's just too gentle with me to remember.

As his feet slowly lower to the floor, gasps and murmurs flood the halls, and my head frantically shoots around, surprised by the crowd of avid onlookers.

Eyes anxiously surveying the students, I hone in on Logan again, flinching when seeing his pupils, already fixed on me.

He releases Mikey immediately, retracting from him while Scott grabs his bicep, heatedly whispering into his ear, and Mikey scrambles away.

Logan's eyes shy from mine and my mouth gaps. He almost looks, embarrassed. 'Huh?'

Soon, other teachers arrive to intervene, shooing students from the crime scene.

So, aimlessly wandering outside, into the courtyard, hoping to clear my head, I think back on our classes together. Every time Mikey acted up, Logan seemingly couldn’t care less, looking more spent overall, than unsettled by his brazen jokes.

It was kind of funny, seeing Mikey quaking in his boots at the older male. It was only yesterday, that he spoke to me with such forwardness, and to Logan with such rudeness, carrying that typical smug expression -it was nice to see it wiped clean.

I laugh to myself, disbelieving what just transpired. I can only imagine what errand Professor Xavier will make Logan do to atone, or what bonding exercise he and Mikey may perform...

While I trudge down the stone steps, onto the vivid green field, I spot the devil himself, Mikey. He sits under the shade of a grand willow tree, dome hung between his bent knees.

Feeling rather empathetic, I stroll towards him, stopping in front of his feet. Evidently noticing my bright attire, his head pops up, and his dewy eyes widen.

"You alright?" I ask warily and his bottom lip trembles. He sniffs once, toughening up before responding, "I'm good." I nod, then look at the endless landscape to my right. "Whatever you did must've really been something, Mr. Howlett's rarely that peeved."

"You're telling me," he huffs sarcastically, sounding pained. Shifting, I sit beside him, maintaining some space. "If you don't mind me asking, what was that about?" Mikey pauses, thinking hard.

"No clue," he mumbles pitifully. I gawk at him, brows creasing. He peers at me and copies my appearance. "I'm not lying," he exclaims defensively. "There's no way," I retort, scoffing.

"If you don't fucking believe me, why ask," Mikey spits, mumbling "bitch" as he shoots to stomp off.

Suspiring, my crown gingerly falls onto the tree's trunk. Finding comfort in its rugged bark, I calmly savour the crisp air.

I close my eyes, for what feels like a few minutes until a fierce call of my name grips my consciousness. Eyelids cracking open, my vision focuses on Mr. Howlett himself, standing in all his glory, glaring down at me with a brooding look.

"If it isn't the man of the hour," I giggle humourlessly, straightening my spine, but choosing not to stand and seem intimidated, like he evidently wishes me to be.

"You have a nice chat?" Logan questions with an irked tone, obviously remarking on my 'chat' with Mikey. 'Was he watching us?'

I tilt my head defiantly. "I'm not picking sides," I raise both hands in surrender, smiling from ear to ear. His eye faintly twitches, and I nearly gulp. He grumbles incomprehensible nonsense, then chooses to stay relatively quiet, which is unlike him.

"Do you have something to say? Or are you just gonna stand there?" I inquire venomously.

Clearly dispising my attitude, he concentrates on my face, scowling. His features have rage written all over them, but I refuse to bow out of this impending feud.

He grumbles under his breath again, and I break.

"Speak up!" I shout, swiftly bringing my gaze to our surroundings, making sure we're alone -which is something Logan clearly isn't worried about.

"What the fuck do you two have to talk about?" He just about growls and I tense, stunned. My face contorts with perplexity. "Me and Mikey?" I question, and his eyebrows nearly conjoin in response. "Not much, just discussing you're outburst," heaving, I continue, "though he didn't have much to say on the topic," sighing, "you?"

His nostrils flare slightly, and I do my best to appear composed. "What else have you talked about?" He grunts, and I roll my eyes, rising to my feet, bored with our conversation. "What's it to you?" I ask rhetorically, internally referring to the distance he'd been building between us.

Moving elsewhere, I roughly brush past his shoulder. He doesn't immediately reply, but trails after me as I march further into the courtyard.

"The fuck you on about?" Logan vulgarly rumbles, and I forget to speak.

My pace then staggers when he delicately wraps his digits over my forearm, tugging me, almost cautiously, backward.

Square to him, I discern his thumb tracing my skin lightly, before finally looking at him. He examines his finger as it sweeps across my flesh. "Logan?" I carefully utter, and his eyes stay glued to where our bodies meet.

"Why do you talk to him," he pauses, snarling with emphasis on 'talk,' yet again. Then he murmurs, "-When you have me?" He’s so quiet, that the words are barely audible. My features instantly soften. “Are you,” I hesitate, “Jealous?”

When he doesn’t answer, I gasp so loud, that my palm slaps over my mouth. He looks around, avoiding eye contact as I grasp the situation. “Did you threaten Mikey 'cause he yaps to me in class?”

Logan scorned the very idea of jealousy, cruising his head in a circle, to showcase his exasperation. I smirk uncontrollably and he snits. "Don't flatter yourself Princess," he remarks blatantly. My smirk only expands. "I can't believe you," I laugh hysterically and he motions like he's going to walk away, but he stays put, and I know I've won.

"Don't pull that face," he complains, gesturing to my proud look.

"What face?" I ask, playing naive, faintly swinging my body side to side. "Just stop talking to him, he's a bad influence," he grunts, peering off to the horizon. I giggle, "Or what? Do you intend to beat every boy who speaks to me?" I counter, and he struggles to fight a smile.

"What if I do," Logan more or less declares.

Shaking my head, "You've got some nerve," I huff, "seeing as you've been avoiding me lately."

"I haven't been avoiding you-"

I interrupt, "Oh yes, you have," playfully punching his gut with a grin, which drops the second my knuckles practically grow a heartbeat. "Ow," I breathe and at last, he laughs.

When Logan's laugh dims, he looks almost sullen. "Didn't think you'd notice," he mumbles and I quirk my chin in confusion. "You seem preoccupied." Gapping at him once more, he rolls his eyes, showing his teeth. "Don't gimme that damn look girl," he heaves, "you're young and, and-"

"And what?"

"Attractive," he sighs heavily, "you don't need an old man weighing you down."

I still, catching his genuine displeasure and defeat. It's like he's disappointed I may seek romance from someone else, but accepts it regardless, for my sake, my happiness.

My heart thumps irregularly and I feel like jumping his bones. I release a lengthy sigh, with a smile twinkling. His brow rises questioningly, seeming anxious about a reaction to his masked insecurity.

"What?" He bites.

"I'm relieved," his confusion visibly progresses. "I thought you were tired of me." As his mouth opens, to probably insult my intelligence, I cut in. "I wanna go steady with you, if that wasn't obvious already." My smile grows sheepish, then taunting, "I like you Lo, and clearly you must love me."

Like he's been holding his breath, a loud puff of air escapes his chapped lips, and I shamelessly watch as he wets them.

"You've gotta be the strangest girl I've ever met," he utters with a smirk forming, and I return one, interpreting his words as a declaration of love.

"Woman," I correct, then babble jokingly, "refined Lady." He confidently strides closer. "Mistress-"

The air leaves my lungs as his solid arms devour me, squeezing tightly.

"You best realize what you're committing to," Logan comments, lightly lifting strands of my hair with his fingertips, to kiss my neck. "That means, no more talking to boys," he grunts, humour coaxing his tone. "Especially ones so far out of your league," he pulls his head back, to peer at my expectant face, "It's not even funny," he finishes with a grin.

I laugh, unable to contain my joy, quickly hiding my wild smile in his chest. A pleased hum rumbles in tune with his heavy breathing, and I listen to his heartbeat's fairly, rapid pace.

For a while, we stay present in each other's arms, with fulfillment and ease consuming our beings, synchronously. Logan's fingers drift across my lower back, leisurely tracing my curves.

"I like you, so much," I whisper airly because the words couldn't be repressed, and had escaped. His hands gradually slow to a halt, till he abruptly draws back. He looks at me, with such intense seriousness, that I shudder.

Then, he pulls away entirely, taking my hand in his larger one, to drag me deeper into the field -into the overgrown areas, looted with massive trees and bushes.

"Logan?" My whisper transforms into a squeak when I'm hauled behind various, untrimmed hedges. His palms grope my hips, stilling me before he drops to his knees. I ogle his smug face as it bores into me, before he wrestles with my pink, low-waisted, jean shorts, impatiently dragging them down my plump thighs. He mumbles, "Ridiculous" when his eyeline levels with my purple, close-to-sheer underwear.

Like my shorts, he yanks them down to my ankles, then swiftly encloses his mouth over my cunt, swiping the folds with his tongue. I throw the back of my hand over my incoming yelp, biting down to muffle it.

"Is this you tryna to deflect admitting you really like me?" I joke meekly as my mouth parts from my hand, but I quickly chomp down again, when he licks me, with a long flick of his tongue. I gasp and whimper, using my spare hand to claw at his scalp for leverage, as he hungrily laps my pussy, sucking on its nub.

A tremor racks my insides, eliciting spasms while he builds up a powerful, but excruciatingly relaxed pace. His bulky digits move to relentlessly rub my clit, applying a rhythmic pressure that makes me sob.

Logan shushes me, mouth still buried in my folds. The buzz of his voice sends shivers through my core, and the strength of his action grows, acknowledging my imminent finish.

“Eyes on me,” Logan basically growls, before diving back into my cunt.

I muffle a cry of his name with a fist now, biting my knuckles. Then, I look from the heavens, back down to the one hand I still have, clenching his silky locks.

My knees begin to buckle and his sizeable palms relocate to support my hips, with his fingertips bordering my ass, kneading it. "I'm close," I gasp, barely audible through my hand. He hums again, and when it elicits another shiver, and shake of my frame, I tumble over his back, wrecked by my climax.

Now hunched over him, with my hands splayed down his torso, I tremble furiously, coming down from my high. I can't help but whine when Logan continuously licks me. He tastes every inch of me like I'm the meal of a lifetime, like I'm oxygen itself.

"Enough," I choke, as my arousal becomes too much. His response is simply plunging further into me, to lick all the way from my ass, to clit.

Steam floods my stomach, lighting me on fire. A raging flame consumes my very being, and I relish in how dirty and dangerous this encounter is -in public on his knees for me, Logan made it known that I'm his, and he let me know, that he couldn't care less who heard us, because I was his.

"You're disturbed," I breathe, and his chuckle resonates louder when he separates from my damp skin. "You love it," he states with a smirk and an arch of his brow. He then runs his tongue over his soaked lips, and I bite back a groan, sighing, "I do."

Lifting, moving my palms to his shoulders, I capture his top lip, sucking on it as a thank you. I grin, and as if he can hear my jest coming from a mile away, he scoffs and turns to hide his smirk.

"And you must lovveee me," I repeat my earlier comment with even more enthusiasm, and he shakes his head.

He rises and I do the same. Logan then goes in for a kiss to shut me up, but just as he does, I catch his mumble of "I do."

I gasp into his mouth, eyelids stretching.

My lids briskly flutter shut when he deepens the kiss, dipping my figure, rather romantically, and we both smile.

[foli-vora]

devil in the night

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: i should be asleep but lmao, here we are. the brain just went 'matt sneaking into your room and eating you out while you're asleep' and i flung the blankets away and reached for my laptop like 'yes i understand completely'. it's been a while since i've written for matty and i have missed him immensely. enjoy angels! x

Word count: 700ish i think idk

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY - somnophilia, oral (f rec), overstimulation, matty being a hungry hungry boi, helmet stays on coz i like that shit

Your window is unlocked. Of course it is. It gives way under his gentle push until he’s able to creep through, the cool night breeze following him in and rustling your light drapes.

The slow, steady breaths that fill the room tell him you’re asleep, long lost to dreams with absolutely no awareness that he lurks in the shadows of your bedroom and his heart beats harder, thrumming strongly within his chest until he feels the heavy pulse of it in his head. He follows the breaths, chases the familiar scent of you until he can feel you close, the heat of your body stinging at his skin.

The mattress gives way under his knees and his hands reach to seek you out, following the form of your legs underneath the blankets until he feels the edge of them tucked loosely around your waist. He pulls at them softly, listening to the slide of cotton drag over your body until you’re bared to the room and he’s able to feel you properly.

Gloves run over bare skin and he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips. Did you anticipate his arrival? Did you sink into your pillows and think about this very moment? Did you work yourself up thinking about the heat of his mouth?

He hardens to the point of pain at the thought.

His hands part your thighs easily, careful not to jostle you as he settles onto his stomach and makes himself at home between your legs—his favourite place to be. You barely move, so deep in a slumber he doubts you’d notice much of anything at this point.

The smooth surface of his helmet rests against the heat of your thigh as he takes a moment to breathe you in, letting the scent of your pussy settle heavy on his tongue until the vicious tug of his appetite can’t take it for a second longer.

It’s been too damn long. He’ll ask for forgiveness later. 

He’s soft about it.

There’s no rush—he has the rest of the night and he’s not moving until he’s sure he’ll have the taste of you clinging to his skin for the rest of the day.

His tongue drags leisurely over you, feeling the gentle parting of your folds under muscle until the sweet tang of your arousal sinks richly into his taste buds and he has to harshly fist the sheets to keep from groaning.

This is what he needs.

He finds your clit, softly circling it over and over until your scent in the room thickens and it’s all he knows, all he can breathe. He moves to lap at the wetness gathering at your entrance, unable to resist pressing impossibly closer to you, licking deeply, hungrily into your cunt until you’re flooding his tongue and smearing across his chin.

You’ll soon feel the burn of his stubble as he works you over more and more.

He goes back and forth, taking his time building your arousal up by lavishing your clit with soft laps and gentle strokes before practically drinking from you, tongue prodding and dragging against the slick walls of your pussy. He’s lost track of time, oblivious to anything and everything beyond this room, beyond you, by the time you begin to stir.

Your heart flutters, your breath catches and then you’re seeking him out, a hand soon meeting one of the sharp points of his helmet before your fingers stretch over the chilled back of it. You’re almost there—he can feel it, hear it, taste it.

He keeps his pace steady, feeling no need to rush you to the finish line as his tongue swirls and circles and flattens over your clit again and again.

A sleepy moan of his name falls from your lips when you reach your peak and he can’t help but rut into the firm mattress as you flood his tongue, the muscles in your thighs jumping and jerking beneath his hold.

“Shh,” he coos quietly against you when you start to pull away from his mouth, cunt sensitive and overworked. He's not done, not yet. “Let me enjoy you, sweetheart. I need it, please.”

[puckinghischier]

Tentastrophe

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

summary: reader and nico are in a secret relationship while on a camping trip together

notes: hi lovies! i got this request from my dear 🏔️ anon so i had to get right on it!! this was so fun to write and even more fun to play out in my head while i was writing it 🤭. also i had no clue what to name it so i quite literally just made up a word 🫣. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: We’re camping and my tent ripped, can I please share yours?

[5.1k]

You hated the outdoors. Truly, you despised being outside.

You hated bugs, you were scared of wild animals, you hated the heat, you hated dirt, grass made you itchy, and you really hate the lack of indoor plumbing.

Literally, how do people enjoy spending a week out in the middle of nowhere, no signal for miles, no air conditioning, and eating the same four types of canned food? Not to mention your dislike of sleeping bags.

Who wants to sleep on a flimsy piece of material on the hard ground for days at a time? It’s just simply not appealing.

You continue to list off the things in your head you hate about camping and the outdoors in general while watching yourself be driven farther and farther away from the city through the windshield of Jack’s SUV.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, don’t look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you,” you hear from the front seat, Jack looking at you through his rear-view mirror.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Jack, I’m being taken to a remote location against my will with no access to a bathroom or civilization for seven whole days. At least if someone kicked a puppy in front of me, it’d be over sooner.”

“Woah, so you’re advocating for puppy kickers now, are you?” A new voice rings out, this one belonging to Dawson, who occupies the seat against the window beside of you.

“She’s not advocating for it, Dawson, she’s just saying she’d prefer it to being stuck in the woods with you for a week straight,” Holtzy responds from your other side, having been sandwiched between the two in the backseat of Jack’s car for the hour and a half ride to your unfortunate destination.

Dawson reaches behind your head to smack Alex’s. Alex tries to retaliate, and suddenly you have two hockey players trying to fight each other on either side of your body.

“Hey! Cut it out before you hurt Y/N! Coach needs her to get good footage this weekend,” Luke yells at the two forwards.

“Wow, thanks for showing me where my worth lies, Luke,” you deadpan.

Luke flashes you a grin before turning back around in his seat. “You’re welcome.”

You stick your tongue out at him, knowing he’s just teasing you.

When you applied for a marketing internship at the Prudential Center a year ago, you had no idea that you would become so invested in this world. After the initial six month period of your internship was over, you were making plans to find work elsewhere when you were approached by the team’s GM and asked if you were interested in staying on full time as the new social media manager.

You immediately agreed, knowing you had found your passion with working in sports and wanted to stick with it for as long as you could. It didn’t hurt that you had become such good friends with a handful of the players close to your age, four of which were in the same car as you right now.

You and Jack were the closest, though. The two of you bonded over your shared love of country music, a rare find outside of your southern hometown. You had found other interests in common, too, but becoming each other’s country music concert buddy is to credit for much of your friendship.

You grew close to Luke simply because of your proximity to Jack, but found that he’s become a little brother to you. People always assumed there was more than friendship going on between you and Jack, but both of the Hughes boys had become the brothers you never had, no feelings beyond that ever surfacing.

As your job continued to cause you to spend time with the team, you found yourself growing closer to other players as well.

Nico was another player you found yourself talking to long after your work duties were done for the day. Whether it was chatting before practice, pulling him a little too frequently to do interviews or make videos, or grabbing a bite to eat after practice and games because neither one of you wanted to end your conversations, you found the Swiss captain occupying a large chunk of your time both at work and outside of work.

Which doesn’t make it all that surprising that he asked you to be his girlfriend three months ago.

After a huge win over the Islanders at home, the entire team had decided to go out to celebrate. You had caught a ride with Jack that morning, but when you were searching for him so you could leave, he was nowhere to be found, already gone to whatever bar everyone had agreed on.

Nico had stayed behind to do a few extra post-game interviews, so when you bumped into him outside of the locker rooms on your search for Jack, he offered you a ride. You had mentioned how hungry you were, telling him you should probably go home and grab something to eat and change before getting an uber to the bar, but Nico had pulled into the first late-night diner he saw after you mentioned your lack of eating dinner.

The two of you sat in the 50’s themed diner for hours, ignoring all the calls and texts asking where you were and why you didn’t come out to celebrate. You didn’t even realize how late it was until you received a text from Jack, asking that you call him when you got up so he knew you made it home safe, apologizing for forgetting you at the arena.

Nico walked you up to your apartment after driving you home that night, despite the fact it was after three in the morning and they had a mid-day practice the next day. You still don’t know if it was the high of winning or the late hour, but he decided to kiss you at your doorstep that night. Three days later, he asked you to be his girlfriend because he told you he couldn’t stand not being exclusive with you for a second longer.

No one knew, though. You kept on acting as if nothing had changed at work, and no one caught on otherwise. You decided it was fun to keep it to yourselves, enjoying being each other’s secret. You didn’t know the policy on dating your coworkers, either, so you didn’t want to risk anything by outing the relationship this early.

You felt bad lying and sneaking around Jack and Luke, especially, but you’ll tell them eventually. You enjoyed having no eyes on you, your relationship being simply between you and Nico right now. When you tell your friends and the rest of the team, it’ll be out there for good. Fans will find out, your boss will find out, and then your small bubble of Nico will burst.

That’s another reason you dread this weekend. Not only do you just hate camping and being outside for long periods of time, you’re going to be stuck being around Nico for a week straight with no chance to be his girlfriend instead of his coworker.

The trip is the team’s pre-season bonding activity, so you’re tagging along to capture material for future videos and pictures for the various social media pages and website. You had tried to send one of the other members of your media team, not thrilled at the idea of a camping retreat, but the head coach had requested you, specifically, because of your ability to convince the players to participate in various trends and videos.

You owe some of that to Nico, of course. After the two of you formed a friendship, he started telling his teammates they had to participate in whatever silly tasks you asked of them or he’d start reporting them to coach for making your job harder. Since his forceful request, you rarely had to fight to get any of the players to do the latest trending dance, or answer silly questions as they get on the ice before practice.

Unfortunately for you, this means the higher ups see your success and suddenly you’re volunteered to do things like this. And really, what kind of social media content can you create when you won’t even have cell service?

Tuning back into your surroundings, you notice you’re almost to the campground you’ll call home this week. You were so lost in your own head that you barely even noticed the four (grown) men in this car with you singing loudly to the F.U.N. song from none other than Spongebob Squarepants.

Jack and Luke were duetting the song, Jack taking the sponge’s part and Luke singing Plankton’s lines. Dawson and Alex were simply adding harmonies.

You were in for a long week.

———————————————————————————

“Who in their right mind would put a twenty-four year old teenage girl in charge of putting together her own tent?” you whine out as Curtis walks over to see you trying to read the directions for putting together the tent laid out in front of you.

“Honey, I think you’re a little too old to be calling yourself a teenage girl,” he chuckles as he kneels beside you, taking the instructions out of your hands.

“I’m just a girl, Lazar. I will always be a teenage girl at my core, no matter what age I am. Therefore, I’m a twenty-four year old teenage girl. And I’m extremely incapable of building a fucking tent,” you cry out, crossing your arms and huffing.

Curtis just shakes his head and laughs, grabbing the rods that go inside of the tent to give it structure, putting it together for you.

You sit back and watch, trying to help where you can, but ultimately being reverted back to the role of ‘holding the flashlight for dad’, but instead you’re ‘holding the mallet for Curtis’.

Halfway through putting your tent up, you see Nico start walking in your direction. You admire your boyfriend, his tan skin showing due to his green t-shirt being stuck in the pocket of his athletic shorts instead of on his torso. His black hat sits backwards on his head, hiding what you’re sure is sweaty hair. His favorite pair of sunglasses rest on his nose.

“Already making the guys do your dirty work, how dare you, Y/N,” Nico teases as he stops to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the ground.

“Listen, one perk of being a woman in sports is the fact that I’m always surrounded by men just waiting to save the damsel in distress,” you put your hand across your forehead to hide the sun from your eyes, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, flashing you a smile.

“Need any help, Curtis?” Nico calls out, but keeps his eyes on you.

“I think I’m nearly done, but if you want to start hammering the stakes in the ground that’d be great,” Curtis replies, not even looking up from the tent that had now taken shape.

“Sure thing. The mallet, please,” he reaches his hand out to you.

You hand Nico the mallet, looking up at him with an amused grin. “Get to it, time to do manly stuff and go pound on something .”

You start to stand and Nico shoots his other hand out for you to grab onto, helping you heave yourself off the ground.

Once you’re stood in front of Nico, he pulls your hand toward him so you’re standing dangerously close to him, your chests nearly touching. You look around, making sure no one sees the position the two of you are in right now.

Nico leans down, lips grazing your ear as he whispers “Unless you want me to drag you behind a tree and do extremely un-coworker type things to you with the entire team right here, I suggest you don’t talk about pounding anymore this weekend.”

A shiver makes it way down your spine as Nico steps back, walking over to where Curtis is now standing, turning to face the two of you.

You hope he assumes the redness on your face is because of the warm sun, and not because his captain just threatened to do R rated things to you behind a tree.

Ten minutes later, your tent is fully assembled and you’re blowing up your air mattress with a battery powered pump that’s seen better days.

Jack had laughed at your for bringing an air mattress, claiming it’s not really camping if you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag. You told him you refused to sleep on the ground with just a thin bag underneath you for the whole week. If you had to be here, you were going to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

You even brought a battery powered fan to sit in front of your bed incase you got hot at night, but you learned very quickly that even though it’s hot and humid during the day, the night is chilly and dark.

After everyone had settled in and the sun had set, Timo had managed to start a fire, placing hot dogs on a small grate he placed next to the fire while Jesper worked on opening cans of various types of vegetables to heat along side the sausages.

You laughed to yourself, knowing the team nutritionist would develop an eye twitch seeing what foods will be consumed by the players this week. The amount of sodium and carbs in the containers of food for the week were definitely not in line with the meal plan.

Finding a spot next to Jack, you go sit on one of the various logs around the fire, needing the heat to warm your chilled skin. Music played out of a speaker sitting on the picnic table behind the logs, one of your favorite country songs filling the space.

“Nice choice, it’s one of my favorites,” you nudge Jack’s shoulder as you sat down, assuming he had control of the music.

“Yeah it’s a good one, but don’t look at me. Cap’s the one with the aux right now,” he says, pointing to where Nico is standing by a tree, red solo cup in his hand.

You turn your head and make eye contact with him, his eyes having already found you. The raise of his cup and tilt of his head telling you he played this song specifically for you. Your face heats and you smile at the ground, trying to keep the grin from stretching too wide, not wanting to raise suspicion from the brunette to your right.

“Y’know, I wonder why Cap has any country music in his playlist at all, because last I checked, his phone was full of rap and Swiss music and he told me country was his least favorite genre,” Jack starts, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music and chatter. “But then I remembered, I see you and him talking an awful lot after practice, before practice, and everywhere in-between.” You feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, worried Jack’s figured the two of you out. “You’re not cheating on your music buddy, are you?” he asks, looking at you suspiciously.

Relief washes over you. He just thinks you’re sharing music with Nico. Not that you’re seeing Nico behind everyone’s back.

“I might have mentioned a few good artists to him. But don’t worry, concerts are still reserved for you,” you bump his shoulder again.

“Mhmmm. Must have taken a lot of convincing to make a rap loving Swiss man convert to Zach Bryan,” Jack hums, still looking at you suspiciously.

“Just a few links sent is all,” you tell him, noticing he’s just staring at you. “What?” you ask, leaning back a bit.

“Nothing,” Jack shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with an idea. “Just thinking…have you ever thought about going out with Cap?”

You choke on air. You try to recover with a cough, claiming you swallowed the wrong way. “What, what do you mean?”

“You know, like you and Cap. Going on a date. Dating. I think you two would be good together. You guys already seem friendly enough, and he’s a great guy. Plus, I can see the way you look at him, Y/N. You definitely have a crush on the guy,” Jack teases.

You start laughing. Jack is confused by your reaction, not thinking his suggestion was funny at all, but you can’t stop the laughs from escaping.

“Oh, Jack. You’re funny,” you tell him once you calm yourself down. “That’s nice, but nah. I don’t think Nico and I should go there. Too many things could go wrong, y’know? Plus, who even knows if I’m allowed to date any of you guys. Workplace romances are frowned upon in most jobs, you know.”

“Okay, it wasn’t that comical of a suggestion. I was being serious, I think you guys would be great together. To hell with the rules. I can tell when two people are into each other,” Jack says with a hint of annoyance, not appreciating your little laughing outburst.

A look of surprise makes its way onto your face at his comment that he thinks Nico is into you, too. Maybe the two of you weren’t doing such a good job at acting normal around the team. You succeed at suppressing the laughter this time, figuring a second outburst would really make Jack upset. “Oh, you think he’s into me, do you?”

Jack looks at you like you just asked him if the sky was blue.

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, he literally jumps at the chance to be in any of your tik tok videos and he threatened the whole team so they would quit, and I quote, ‘making your job harder and just fucking do what you ask’ or he’d report us to coach.”

You can’t help but giggle this time, of course knowing all of this, Nico having told you himself after he did it, but you can’t let Jack know that.

“I don’t know, Jack, that doesn’t exactly sound like something he’d do. What does he get out of it? More interruptions during practice? More attention on social media? Doesn’t sound like Nico if you ask me,” you tell him, trying to play dumb.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he gets to spend more time with you. He gets on your good side, helps make your job easier while making ours harder. Earns brownie points to butter you up so you say yes to a date one of these days,” Jack leans his head towards yours, looking up at you like he’s just proven his point.

You steal a glance over at Nico, his head cocked, silently asking what you and Jack are talking about. You shake your head with a smile, telling him its unimportant with the roll of your eyes.

“I don’t know, Jack. We’ll see, I guess,” you sing song, earning a sigh from the boy to your right.

“You’re hopeless, both of you. I need another beer,” he gets up, leaving you on the bench by yourself, chuckling at just how right your best friend is.

After all of the burnt hot dogs and lukewarm veggies were eaten, it was time to for everyone to retire to their tents.

All of the players had to double up on tents, you and the coach being the only two people with their own. The players that were sharing tents on this trip would be sharing hotel rooms all season, so the bonding began with them being able to exist in the same space for an extended period of time.

Your tent sat about 50 feet from Jack and Luke’s. Nico’s tent was in the row of tents in front of yours, three tents separating the two of you.

You quickly made your way to your own tent and started getting ready for bed. Not being able to wash your face or do you proper skincare routine, you settled for brushing your teeth with a warm bottle of water and applying lotion to your face before crawling into your make-shift bed for the week. You hadn’t packed nearly enough blankets, seeing as you assumed it would be warm inside your tent, but you were chilled to the bone. You kept your sweatshirt on, opting for a pair of sweatpants instead of the skimpy sleeping shorts you brought.

You settled into your bed, switching off the small lantern you had been provided.

You laid there for what felt like ages trying to fall asleep. Every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made you scared a bear was about to claw its way through your tent.

You thought you had imagined it at first, assuming the wind was blowing and causing your tent to slightly ruffle in the wind. But when it happened a second time, this time the sound of something fiddling with the zipper of your tent following the ruffling, you were starting to panic.

You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chin as you saw a hand push on the door of your tent, a quiet yelp making its way out of you.

“Shhh, it’s just me, let me in,” you hear the familiar, accented voice of your boyfriend ring out, huffing while walking over and unzipping your tent just enough for him to slip through.

You walk back over to your air mattress, turning on the small lantern, looking at Nico standing in the middle of your tent. He was wearing a tan sherpa fleece with plaid pajama bottoms. He had to hunch over slightly, his height being too tall for your small tent.

“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” you whisper yelled at him, careful to not raise your voice too high as to not wake any of his teammates.

“My tent ripped, can I please share yours?” Nico asks with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, yeah? If your tent ripped then where’s Jesper sleeping, huh?” you raise your eyebrow and cross your arms.

“I just left him to fend for himself. Didn’t exactly want to invite him to sleep in here with us. Never know what he might see,” he walks towards you, placing his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

He looks down at you, your position mirroring earlier when this exact tent was being assembled, but you had no fear of anyone seeing you now.

“Hi, Schatz.”

You giggle up at him, unraveling your arms and placing them on his shoulders. “Hi Neeks.”

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he mumbles before bringing his face down to yours.

You lean up on your tip toes to meet his lips, sighing contently into the kiss.

Nico pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies as his sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing against him into the kiss.

His tongue swipes across your lips, asking for entrance, and who are you to deny his wish? His tongue slips into your mouth, effectively deepening the kiss.

Nico walks you backwards until you plop down onto your air mattress, bringing his knee to rest in-between your legs, his forearms on either side of your head to support his weight.

You tug on his hair slightly, earning a groan in response. He starts grinding his pelvis against your thigh, which was your sign to stop this before it got too out of hand.

You pull back, pushing him up off of you slightly. He looks down at you with blown pupils and swollen lips. “Alright, tiger, slow down. We’re not having sex with several tents full of your entire team a few feet away.”

Nico deflates and brings his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got a stiffie?”

“Sorry, shouldn’t have let yourself get so worked up. Should’ve known I wasn’t going to go there with this many people around,” you laugh at his whiney tone.

He rolls off of you onto his back, slinging his arm over his eyes.

“What are you doing? Quit being so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, trying to grab his arm and remove it from his face.

“Stop, trying to think of sad puppies to make my boner go away,” he swats your hand off of his arm.

You bust out laughing for the second time tonight, but this time you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the noise. The conversation about puppies in the car on the way here earlier making its way to your mind, making you laugh even harder.

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Nico finally says, sitting up.

“Good. Don’t even think about getting handsy, either. This,” you gesture between you and Nico, “is not happening tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter.”

“Got it. You don’t want any of my teammates to hear you scream my name while my tongue is ins-“ you slap a hand over Nico’s mouth, not letting him finish that sentence.

His eyes shine with amusement at you, seeing your own wide in surprise. “Can I trust you to take my hand off of your mouth?” you ask him.

Nico shakes his head, but not before he darts his tongue out and licks a stripe up the palm of your hand, causing it to fly off of his mouth.

“Okay, you’re disgusting,” you scold him, wiping you hand on the blanket you’re both sitting on top of.

Nico just laughs at you in response, finding your annoyed expression amusing.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m already sick of you and the week hasn’t even started yet,” you tell him, pulling the blanket back so you can settle under it.

Nico follows your lead and places himself under the blanket at well, pulling your body close to his.

You lay your head on one end of your pillow while Nico places his on the other end, not having brought his own from his tent. The two of you just lay there facing each other for awhile before you remember to reach over and turn off the lantern once again.

You’re appreciative of the new warmth Nico brings to your bed, finally feeling yourself get sleepy.

“Wait, how are you going to know when to wake up before everyone else and go back to your tent?” you ask him, knowing his phone was in his vehicle, none of the players allowed their devices with them. You and coach were the only ones with phone privileges this week, even though they didn’t even work out here.

“Don’t worry, I will. First time I wake up I’ll sneak out, don’t worry,” he assures you, kissing you on the forehead before pulling your body flush to his, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Neither one of you must have woken up at all during the night, though, because when you wake up the next morning to the screams of “I knew it! I knew they were into each other! I told you so!” from your best friend as he stood inside your tent at the end of your bed with not only Luke, but with half of the team standing outside the wide open door of your tent, you were confused until you felt the weight of a body against yours. You open your eyes to see Nico’s scrunched face, the noise waking him up as well.

You both roll over and open your eyes, noticing your audience.

“I called it! I knew there was something going on here! How long have you two been together?” Jack bombards the two of you with questions despite you having literally just woke up.

“Get the hell out of this tent before I get coach to make everyone run three miles today,” Nico grumbles, his voice gravely from the early hour.

“No way, we need an explanation,” Dawson speaks this time, his expression matching Jack’s pleased one.

“You’ll get your explanation, but for right now, get out. Let us actually wake up without fifty people in our fucking tent. Now go, get out,” Nico pulls you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest and slinging a leg over your own.

“But-“ Jack starts again, but Nico removes an arm from around you and points at the door, “OUT!” he says sternly, his captain voice making an appearance.

The group of men start grumbling, but ultimately leaving your tent, zipping your door back up so you and Nico could have a bit of privacy again.

“Nico, you didn’t wake up,” you say, your voice muffled because of how close he’s holding you to his body.

“Sorry, Schatz. Was sleeping too good, I guess. Always happens when I’m sleeping with you. You’re like my own personal melatonin.”

You chuckle at him, not really mad that everyone found out, just wishing they hadn’t found you asleep together on a tiny air mattress.

“At least the boys know now. Now I don’t have to keep sneaking around at practice. I can stare at your ass loud and proud now,” Nico says, detaching himself from you and rolling over onto his back, rubbing his eyes.

You reach over and hit him in the chest. “This doesn’t give you permission to say innapropriate things to me while we’re at work.”

He rolls his head to look over at you, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles innocently, causing your to roll your own eyes and sigh at him.

“Hey! You guys better not be having sex in there! I’m implementing a no bone zone when I’m within a hundred feet of you two! Get your asses out here and get to explaining!” you heard Jack shout once again, beating his fist on the side of the tent.

You bring your hands up to cover your face, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Jack! Suit up, you’re coming with me on a little run,” you hear coach shout, earning a “Shit, Nico this is your fault!” from Jack.

You burst into a fit of giggles.

You can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, not having to lie to some of your closest friends anymore. You also foresee your week of no time with Nico changing slightly, figuring Jesper will be down a roommate for the remainder of the week.

Nothing, though, not even sharing a tent with Nico, or sneaking off to find open areas to gaze at the stars at night, could make you like camping.

You almost change your mind the night Nico takes you to a clearing, laying a blanket on the soft grass to stare up at the sky before he gifts you a necklace with his initial on it, the engraving on the back echoing the small “I love you” he whispers in your ear as he clasps the jewelry onto your neck.

You almost thought you liked camping then, until you walked back to you tent to find Nico had left it unzipped and a possum had made a home in the corner, hissing at him as you screamed loud enough to wake the whole team.

Yeah, you hate camping.

[vatelixx]

Ton 618,

S3-S4ish Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Fluff (no angst… surprisingly). Autistic Spencer (present in all of my one shots bcos it’s canon to me).

──── domesticated time inbetween cases & blind adoration.

Warnings: literally none (who am i???), brief mention of past trauma (Hankel).

w.c: 1.5k

— They’re both nerds who are a little too invested in space. Light biblical imagery & Greek mythology references. My writing has been sufficiently domesticated (dw i’ll be back to angst soon, war is not over.)

Loosely inspired by:

a/n: just giving him what he deserved to have.

────────────

For the first time, in a long time, there is little residing in Spencer’s mind. Beyond warm hands, and soft skin, and the pulse of someone else’s body. Obsessed is one word for it, a textbook definition that can’t truly articulate the ache he derives from the thought of you. Obsessed, fatefully ruined, if this is the work of divine intervention, then consider him, once obstinate in his atheism, entirely, profusely devout.

He’s still thinking about you. What’s new? The memory of your lips pressed against his, the tattooed promise of more, more because it will never be enough. He wants, god when has he ever wanted? Life before appears bleak now, black and white. Academia, pursuits of knowledge, lonely nights and the transient fear of forever being stuck in a cyclical cycle of loneliness.

You think he’s pretty. He smiles on the way home from work, Morgan pressing him, because ‘kid you can’t be that happy for no reason.’ There is a reason, a monumental, life-altering one that waits for him at the door. He likes that, the domesticity. He’s never asked for much, content in his mishaps of intimacy, always baring the weight because he wants needs to be good. For the people around him, for the home he’s carved into his skin, for anything that starves off the decades of isolation.

When he threads his arms around your waist, leaning all of his weight into the contact, you both go stumbling back.

He’s soft. Of course he’s endured more than anyone should, the sharp edge of addiction, the stifling weight of a morbid job that has him fixated, hook line and sinker, compass pointing South every time he’s thrown into the field. But for all of that, he still obtains naive, blinding light.

He burns. Or more so, he warms.

“Hi, hi. Sorry— that wasn’t very eloquent. Can I try again?” He’s halfway out of the door; you have to lean forward, grip his wrist, tug him closer, “Okay.” He laughs, “I’ll take that as a no?”

He’s certain your name is imprinted onto his heart. Carved just for you alone. There is no one else. There could never be anyone else.

That night he falls asleep on your shoulder. Hands interlocked, body splayed out across stressed leather, abandoning his book for the soft drab of safety. There’s a tangled wire of headphones draped between you, knotted further when you pull him, half conscious to bed. He follows mindlessly.

You spend his allocated time off as recluses, abandoning civilisation. No sunlight, his apartment is permanently drenched in molten light. Scattered lamps, balancing off stacked books and messy surfaces. Every morning he’ll wake you with butterfly kisses and the promise of a breakfast he will consistently burn. He’s content, over the moon, to forget the world around him. For it to just be, just the two of you.

Today, as usual, you eat his charred attempt at food. He’s trying, he’s definitely trying, even if the end result is… a health risk. Still, you eat it regardless, without complaint, you eat it.. and then he’s just… kissing you senseless in the middle of his kitchen. Cold tiled floor, and mismatched socks. Fuck, he loves you, he’s never loved someone the way he loves you.

“I’ve been dreaming about falling into black holes recently,” he says when you cradle his face. Pretty features besotted with the sight of you. “Weird. Kinda cool. Please don’t eat anymore of my food.”

“No promises,” you grin, and he has the audacity to pout.

Because that’s not fair, burnt food can cause carcinogens to form, to obstruct digestion and metabolism. “My cooking is going to kill you. Your death will be on my hands. The grief will be immeasurable. I’ll become a hermit, never leave my apartment again. Don’t do that to me.” hands wrapped around your wrists, he preserves the contact. “Please don’t do that to me.”

“Well only because you said please—“

He sighs, audibly, ”You just died, you’re dead, and the only thing you can focus on is a word. A word I very generously repeat, at any given moment.” — he’s polite, he will use his manners, and he will unceremoniously echo please please please to obtain even a fraction of you.

He’s senseless. Too far gone.

You take his hand, press it against your heart. “Still alive. I think?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “For now.”

“You’re dramatic—“

He cuts you off, “Did you know one of the largest black holes ever recorded is 66 billion times the mass of the sun? Ton 618.” Pausing to kiss you (a vital necessity), his hands play aimlessly with your hair, strands sliding through the crevices of his fingers. “Imagine falling into that—“ kiss, “You would die obviously,” kiss, “But it would be a pretty cool death.” Kiss. 

Time dilation, worm holes, cosmic demise, you. Sigh— you.

“It would take over 10 billion years for its light to reach earth.” you say, and yeah. Okay. Just casually recite facts to him. That’s okay. He won’t melt, because he’s a rational, dignified, highly-cerebral adult.

Lie. You always know when to talk, sometimes, sometimes, he gets so lost in thought-loops and spirals of intellectual confusion that you have to draw him back to the present. He disintegrates. Every. Single. Time. One intelligent word and the threads of him are woven tightly around your finger.

”You’re stealing my job. And—and you’re doing it better than me. I’m taking a vow of silence. No more words. I’m becoming a monk. Except, maybe without the celibacy?”

“Whore—“

“For you? Always.” he says, knocking his shoulder into yours, “You’re missing the important aspect to this. Don’t discard my threat.”

“Spence, if you ever stop reciting random facts to me at..” you scramble to check the time, early morning, it’s hard to differentiate the hours when they all bleed into one convoluted mess of intimacy. “At 9AM, we will have serious issues. I might get HR involved.“

He’ll ramble about the laws of thermodynamics. Dedicating hours to the philosophical differences between determinism and free-will. You’ll call him a nerd, and he’ll laugh, muffling your protests with his mouth. It’s routine. Something to fall back onto.

 “Hey! Don’t drag HR into our domestic affairs! That’s—“ he interrupts himself to kiss you, again. Just because he can.

Once he’s satisfied that his lips will ache for the next millennium, he continues. “Anyway. I think we should get old together, and then, when we’re losing our minds, and we can’t tell the days apart, we just.. take a casual trip to space, travel through Ton 618. I’d be scared, so I’d hold your hand when we fall. Getting sucked into eternal darkness would be an acceptable way to go.”

He laughs, “You know, as long as you’re by my side, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you repeat, before holding out your pinky. “Deal?”

He feeds his own through yours, “Deal.” 

Yeah, just promise eternal devotion to him. That wont have any lasting, fatal effects on his sanity. It’s not like he’ll cling to it for the remainder of his ephemeral existence.

Later that night, when you’re draped in limbs, skin pressed against skin, you sigh against the warm slope of his neck. “You’re reciting the periodic table in your sleep again..”

It’s a habit. A permanent, engrained idiosyncratic that he’s endured since adolescence. He stirs awake, turning to face you in the hazy light. Features swollen, sleep-soft and pretty. “Was I?” He murmurs, finding the audacity to ask, “What element was i on?”

Because that’s clearly essential.

“Osmium,” you say, tucking strands of tousled brown behind his ear. “Gonna continue?”

“Mhm— yeah. Iridium. One of my favourites, thank god you woke me up before I got to it.”

You humour his tendencies; you’re nothing if not a condoner of his weird quirks. “Discovered by Smithson Tennat in 1803.” is your response, “The name comes from Greek Mythology, Iris. Two stable Isotopes, 191 and 193.”

There you go again. Fracturing his mind, and stealing his information before it can fall from bruised lips.

He thinks you might be cut from the same cloth. He thinks he was probably just made for you. “I like the way you say Isotopes.” He mutters, “Like the way you kiss. You always take my top lip.”

There’s no epiphany. No sharp blade, dragging, penetrating, skin, forcing you to confront stifled feelings. They’ve always been there. Red string of fate, Plato’s Symposium: Aristophanes’ account of the ‘other half.’ Hero and Leander. It doesn’t matter. There’s only the here and now.

He does this thing. Often. Where he’ll moan into your open-mouth. Fingers sunk deep into your hair, keeping you impossibly tethered to him. You’re not sure what planet he fell from, but you’re glad they deported him, if only for your selfish benefit of circuiting around him.

“I’m in love with you,” the admittance is easy. Maybe the words have always been waiting for you to verbalise, bated breath, inexorably interlinked. Maybe they’re long overdue. Something pleading to be let out. But, maybe, it matters more to wait until this, when everything is soft and untouchable. Fresh, untainted. He’d like to live in your skin.

Here’s the thing, Spencer always thought he would be the first one to say it. Reciprocation was always a fantastical hypothetical, something he could only blindly hope for. But, to have his illimitable feelings, in their extensive capacity, matched? That’s— more than he ever thought he deserved.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Saying ‘i’m in love with you’ doesn’t measure up, doesn’t articulate even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

He’s pretty sure he could die right here, in this one fragile moment, and be happy with everything he’s accomplished.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

|♡| ｅａｓｉｌｙ |♡|

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!changbin x chubby!fem!girlfriend!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Summary: It's your boyfriend's night to cook and you've decided to keep him company, reading a book while he toils away in the kitchen, but things take a turn when he uncovers the contents of what you're reading, revealing a strength kink he never knew you had. Lucky for you, he's very capable and incredibly willing to indulge it.

♡ Word Count: 3.4kish

♡ Warnings: reader's chubby (obviously), reader's also taller than binnie, strength kink for sure, binnie likes lifting you up, he also loves your body, reader can be a lil bratty, binnie can be a lil dom coded, manhandling, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, reader gets put on all fours, creampie, pet names (baby, pretty, good girl, princess).

♡ A/N: Hello my darlings, so I wrote this request for an anon who needed Binnie to put those muscles to good use and throw her around a lil bit so here we are. To my anon, I hope that you love it and of course I hope that anyone else who reads this enjoys it too xoxoxo

Moving in with your boyfriend meant finding answers to questions you’ve never had to ask yourself before. Who sleeps on which side of the bed? Who takes out the trash and when? Which way does the toilet paper go on the roll? Over or under? Of all the petty decisions you’ve had to make, the absolute easiest was setting up the cooking arrangement.

As it stands Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays belong to Changbin while you’re responsible for the days in between with Sunday being the designated takeout day. After a long, exhausting day at work that had you contemplating quitting, you were beyond happy to stumble through the door and find Changbin already in the kitchen getting started on his famous stew. Well, it might not technically be famous, but in your heart it deserves to be. 

By the time you hopped out of the shower, all cozy in a baggy tee and your cutest pair of panties, the entire apartment was laced with the comforting aroma of your favorite dish. You’d skipped into the kitchen, planting a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek and offering to help with whatever he needs. But, as always, Changbin refused to let you lift a finger, insisting that your company was all he needed. So you grabbed a book and hopped up on the counter which is where you’ve been since, swinging your feet and turning pages while Changbin works his magic. 

You honestly didn’t expect to be this invested in some cheesy romance novel. Taken by the Winds of Desire. Your best friend suggested it, swearing that she hadn’t been able to put it down for days. Rolling your eyes at the cliche cover art, you hesitantly took the book, anticipating an endless cringe fest. The plot is everything you’d expect. A big city novelist returns to her sleepy seaside hometown where she reunites with her high school sweetheart. It’s nothing new but you can’t deny how hot the love scenes are. 

The female lead’s this wispy brunette, no more than 100 pounds soaking wet, while the love interest is pure body builder status. You catch yourself getting hot—and maybe a little envious—every time you come across a love scene. It’s effortless the way he tosses her around, making love to her on every surface possible. You can’t help but wonder what that might feel like. How sexy that might be. 

Blindly reaching for your cup of tea, you take a sip, your eyes glued to the page as another scene approaches. You’re so invested that you don’t even notice when your boyfriend’s standing in front of you, tilting his head to read the cover of the book. 

“Taken by The Winds of Desire” Changbin chuckles, “Is this porn or something?” 

Clutching the book to your chest, you gasp, offended. “This is not porn. It’s a…beautiful story of love and fate.” 

And some porn. You forgot that part. 

Changbin snatches the book from your hand, backing up as you jump to your feet in pursuit of your precious book. Scanning the page, he finds the first line that catches his attention and begins to read. 

“Gage descended on Lily like a man starved, his fingertips devouring her figure. Many men have swept her off her feet but never quite so literally…” 

“Oh my god, stop!” you shout, chasing him into the living room. 

In your head it sounded perfectly fine but something about hearing it outloud is sending you into a crisis. You make a grab for the book but Changbin swiftly pulls it away, continuing to read in a voice that only makes things worse. 

“The moan that she releases when he tosses her to the bed is borderline sinful, her pillowy breasts bouncing as she fights to catch her breath…”

Finally gaining a solid grip on the corner of the book, you snatch it back before he can read another word, slamming it closed and tossing it onto the couch. 

“I’m sorry, baby” he apologizes, taking you into his arms, “I didn’t mean to make fun of your porn.” 

“Binnie” you whine, burying your face in your hands. There’s enough heat rushing to your cheeks to set your palms on fire and Changbin finds it insanely adorable. 

“Okay, I’ll stop laughing, I promise” he says, using every ounce of willpower he has to suppress his laughter. It takes a minute but he dials it back until his amusement is only a ghost of a smile on those pretty lips. “See? I’m done. Now stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting” you protest but when your hands fall away from your face your bottom lip’s poked out and your lashes are fluttering. You’re definitely pouting. 

Changbin squeezes you tighter, his fluffy dark hair tickling your cheek as he leans in to kiss it. “I didn’t mean to make fun of you. I just didn’t know you liked it rough.”

“I don’t like it rough” you say, the lie tumbling out before you can even think to tell the truth. “Well, okay, maybe a little but girls like me aren’t built for that.” 

“Girls like you?” he frowns, not knowing what you mean but hating the sentiment. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You shrug, having long ago accepted the reality of it all, “Have you seen me? I’m way too big for that in pretty much every way.” 

Your words strike a chord with him and his smile dissolves into something more serious. “Have I ever said that?” 

Slipping out of his arms, you head back for the kitchen, laughing off his comment. “Please, I’d literally break you.” 

You don’t mean it as a challenge but your boyfriend’s never taken anything as personally as he does this. First there’s the concept of you being “too big”. That thought has never crossed his mind. Your body’s not “too” anything for him to handle. Next there’s the audacity you have to undermine the work he does at the gym. All those hours in the gym with Chan have done his body good. These muscles aren’t just for decoration.

Catching your hand before you’re out of his reach, he pulls you back in, draping your arms over his shoulders. His lips crash into yours and your body tenses at the unexpected contact. You were already on edge from all the filth between the pages of that book and the ecstasy of his tongue swirling around yours is only making it worse.

“Hold onto me” he whispers as his palms ride the contours of your body, coming to rest against the softness of your ass. 

He gives it a squeeze and you giggle, arching into him. “Hold on? For what?” 

Your question’s answered when his hands slip down to your thighs and he grips them tightly, lifting you off of the ground. Instinctively you wrap your legs around his waist, fingers laced together behind his head to keep yourself steady. You let out a scream, your heart pounding in your chest as you fear for your life.

Your brain keeps repeating the same thing over and over again. You’re gonna fall. You’re gonna fall. Any second now. But much to your surprise, it doesn’t happen. Changbin doesn’t let you slip. There’s no tumbling to the carpet below. He’s holding you like it’s nothing, not even breaking a sweat. 

“What were you saying about being too big?” he smiles, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the chill of a nearby wall.

“I was just saying that…” 

He interrupts you with a tender kiss, his interest lying more in the taste of your lips than any explanation you could provide for such a silly thought. His kiss disarms you, the feeling of his lips working against yours lulling you into a serenity that has the tension melting from your body, your full weight bearing down on him without a care. 

“I thought we were having dinner” you gasp as he drags his lips across your cheek, his tongue darting out as he kisses a path down to your neck. 

Changbin draws in sharp breath, his clothed cock stiffening as he grinds into that sensitive space between your thighs. You whimper, wiggling in his grasp as he sucks gently at your neck. 

“Mmm…” he hums, breathing in the delicate scent of your body wash, “I think dinner can wait, don’t you?” 

The implication is far from subtle. You can’t even pretend not to know what he’s hinting at. Not when his face is buried in your neck, his cock growing harder with every mark he leaves behind on your fragrant skin. You’re in no position to protest it. You’re washed with heat, panties slick with your own arousal as you mindlessly rock your hips, desperate for more friction—for more of him. 

Trailing kisses back up your neck, he whispers in your ear, the lust dripping from his tone sending goosebumps skating along your spine. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re needy, baby.”

Your stomach sinks as you feel yourself—for the briefest moment possible—begin to fall but it’s only Changbin’s arms readjusting, holding you in just the right position to toss you over his shoulder. 

“Binnie!” you cry, this new inverted view of the world making the room spin, “You can’t just throw me around like that!”

Changbin presses a kiss to your ass, its vicinity to him now too tempting to resist. “I thought that’s what you wanted.” 

You open your mouth to speak but what could you say? That you didn’t want this? That being casually thrown around like some dainty little thing isn’t turning you on? There’s no use in wasting air on lies when both of you know what this is doing to you. So you remain silent, save for the adorable squeals you make when Changbin finally starts moving, your body softly swaying as he carries you through the threshold of your bedroom, tossing you onto the bed with a power you didn’t know he had. 

Your body’s still bouncing from the force of the impact when Changbin’s crawling onto the bed and tearing your panties down like the world will end if he can’t get to you. Tossing them somewhere across the room, his palms come down hard on your inner thighs, kneading the soft flesh as he spreads your legs wide. 

“Aww, baby, you’re so wet already. All for me?” he coos, a thumb reaching over to pet your clenching slit. You’re so velvety and slick, coating the pad of his thumb with your arousal so beautifully that every part of him is aching to have you. He presses his thumb into you, your juices gushing around his finger as he strokes your walls. 

Your eyes fall closed, hushed moans tumbling from your lips as your legs tremble . “All for you, Binnie. All…mmph…”

His other fingers come in contact with your clit and you grab onto his wrist, feeling the muscles flex as his digits make feather light circles around it. You didn’t know that you’d be this sensitive—that a few fingers could have your stomach coiling from pleasure. You want to tell him it’s too much, beg him to take it slow, but he’s already quickening his pace, his fingers working in tandem to give you what a book never could. 

Opening your eyes again, you find that Changbin’s gaze is fixed on you and it’s impossible not to be taken by it. There’s a hunger behind his eyes. They seem to glimmer with every arch and every moan as if he’s consuming each one. And you want so badly for him to. Releasing his wrist, you give into all that you feel, letting it wash over you—drown you if necessary. 

Pushing one of your legs back, Changbin lowers himself to sprinkle kisses along your inner thigh. The closer he inches to your pussy, the closer he is to drooling. He knows how sweet your scent is, how addictive you taste, and he gets weak for it every time. 

“Gonna let me taste you, princess?” he asks, snatching his hand away, leaving you dangling on the edge of another wave of pleasure. You lower your hips toward his face and he licks a stripe along your entrance, humming at that first delectable taste of you. “If you want it, baby, you have to tell me.” He purses his lips around your clit, sucking the bud and flicking his tongue before pulling away, abandoning you once more. 

You grab onto the back of his head, fingers knotting in his hair. “I…I want it so much” you moan, your clit twitching at the tip of his tongue. 

Changbin gives it another flick, grinning as your body jerks, “That’s my girl.”

Burying his face between your legs, he laps hungrily at your pussy. Suckling your clit, licking between your folds, filling you with his tongue so well that you’re riding his face, matching every movement of his with one of your own.

Locking his arms around your legs, he brings you in closer, so close he can hardly breathe, but air’s the last thing on his mind. All he cares about is your juices trickling down his throat while you tug at his hair, your broken moans shattering the silence around you. When his gaze flits up to you, you look like you’re in heaven. No better place, he figures, for an angel like you to be. 

Tilting his head back, he brings two fingers to your clit, pulling the hood back to leave you fully exposed. When his tongue’s at it again you have to bite down on your lip not to scream. Those coils in your stomach are tightening. It’s unbearable and satisfying all at once. You’re beginning to feel light, the same way you did when Changbin first lifted you from the ground. It’s like you’re separating from yourself. The ecstasy threatening to split you in two.

“That’s it, baby. Be a good girl and come for me” he urges, slurping you up between words. 

His voice shatters you to pieces and you fall apart right on his tongue, writhing amongst the sheets as you drench him in your juices. The arrival of your orgasm does nothing to slow him down, his mouth still working even after you’ve hit your peak, draining you to the last drop. Your body’s vibrating when he rises to his knees, his face glistening with remnants of you.

Licking away what’s left, he grabs you by your waist and flips you onto your stomach. Your chest is heaving when your cheek collides with the plushness of the pillow below, the haze from your high still hanging over you. Dragging you up onto your knees, he grinds himself into your core, groaning at how amazing you manage to feel even through two layers of clothes. 

“Stay just like that for me” he whispers, kissing the small of your back before rising to rid himself of his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion. 

You do as you’re told, knees digging into the mattress, your succulent ass poked up in the air. Barely any time has passed at all but the anticipation is killing you. You’re clenching around nothing, ready to reach back and rub your own clit to relieve the tension. Just as the thought comes, you feel his weight on the bed behind you, the head of his cock slipping through your folds. He taps it against your clit and your body jiggles just the way he wants it to. 

“Fuck, your body’s so gorgeous” he says, the timbre of his voice growing unstable as he aligns himself with your entrance. He smooths his palms over your thighs, riding the curve of your ass. They glide up, fingertips sinking into your hips and your belly to take in your full figure. “How’d I get something this perfect?” 

He slams into you and you see stars, every long, thick inch of him bottoming out at once. With his hands back at your waist, he pushes you forward, sliding his drenched cock half way out of you before slamming you back against him. He repeats his actions, angling his swollen tip towards your sweet spot. 

You have to bite down on the pillow not to scream, gripping the sheets to keep yourself grounded. Your walls are clinging to him and you swear you can feel every detail of his length. The blood that rushes through every vein of his cock makes it pulse deep within your pussy. You can probably tell him where every single one is—identify which one’s twitching and when. 

Keeping you flush against him, he rolls his hips into you. His thrusts may not be as harsh but you feel him just as deep, the stretch just as maddening. Tucking an arm beneath you, he finds your clit, teasing it as your arousal drips down between your lips making you a slippery mess. 

“You feel so good, baby, so…aah…fuck” he hisses, your walls clamping down on him particularly hard, making his heart skip a beat. “You did that on purpose.”

Releasing the pillow from between your teeth, you giggle, your bottom lip quivering as he retaliates with another rough thrust to your core. “Mmm, was that a punishment?”

“I don’t know. You wanna be punished?” he asks and you can tell without even seeing him that the idea of a yes has him ravenous. 

His tip brushes your cervix and you clamp around him again, your walls milking his cock of his arousal. “Maybe” you tease, shyly biting down on one of your nails. 

Changbin’s lips quirk into a smile. Such a cute, innocent gesture from a girl who has his cock kissing her kidneys right now. “If I give you what you want, you sure you can take it?” he asks, pinching your clit to make you whimper.

You do, as if on command, your pussy fluttering, “I can take it, Binnie…mmph…promise.” 

You need not say anything else, there isn’t any time to. He has your plush sides firmly in his grasp, fucking into you with the exact rhythm and force that your heart desires. Your knees slip out from under you but he doesn’t miss a beat, his body pinning yours to the mattress as he delves unbelievably deeper into you. This new position introduces fresh sensations, your pert nipples rubbing against the fabric of your shirt with every stroke of his cock. 

Changbin kisses your shoulder, whispering the sweetest things to you as he coaxes you to the cusp of the abyss. “I love you. My beautiful girl. So perfect. Taking me so well.”

You soak in his admiration, letting it flow through your veins like the most potent drug. Your high builds gradually, your brain too tangled up in his words to brace itself for the moment it hits. Sparks of electricity seem to dance along the surface of your skin, your pussy practically calling out his name as you cream down his length. Changbin tilts you onto your side, lifting one of your legs to drill into you. 

Your hand finds his cheek, your nails stroking it ever so sweetly. Out of your sight his cheeks take on a rosy tint, your tender gesture all that’s needed to break him. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the warmth that fills you, his thick cum painting your walls a pearly white.

He slips another arm under you, cradling you close to him as you ride out your highs, your bodies seeming to become one in the afterglow. He leans over to give you a kiss and you crane your neck to just barely meet his lips, collapsing back onto the pillow when you can’t manage to hold yourself up any longer. 

Changbin laughs, sneaking a hand beneath your shirt to make soothing figure eights on your skin. “I guess you won’t be saying that again.”

“Saying what?” you ask. He’s laid complete waste to your body. How can he expect you to think under such circumstances? 

“That you’re too big for anything.”

You shrug, ever the brat, “And what if I do?” 

Changbin’s hold on you tightens, his intention to toss you around just a little more immediately clear. 

“No, wait!” you scream, legs flailing as you try to get away but it’s far too late. 

The simple inference that you might doubt yourself is more than enough to make him want to prove you wrong and he will, even if it takes him all night. It looks like that wait for dinner just got a bit longer.

[seyvith]

“ AND STILL, YOU CAME ”

FERAL XIAO — a beast who was never meant to be seen, and yet you found him . . .

gender neutral reader / feral xiao x reader / emotionally scarred / aggressive trauma response / desperate under the surface / he says he’ll kill you but you’re the only one who’s ever spoken gently to him / turning him soft

masterlist | intro post | carrd . . . a/n: been searching for a fic like this about xiao for so long, so I decided to just make it myself!! I think it's perfect with his lore. (btw dw!! part two of my last post is coming after this)

Ruins bore no name here. Time had long since scoured the stonework bare, ivy veining over toppled columns like bloodless threads on a withered corpse. What lingered of the ancient structure slumbered beneath the cliffs of Minlin, swallowed by bramble and a fog thick as mourning veils. Locals spoke of it in hushed tones, whispers of madness, of vanished travelers, of the god who once ruled here and went mad beneath the weight of his divinity. Even so, your footsteps carried you forward.

Wind stirred the trees restless, circling like breath from something snoring just out of sight. The lantern in your grasp flickered at your hip, casting unsteady shadows across the moss streaked walls. You hadn’t meant to stray this far from the trail, but the pull had been undeniable; an invisible string winding into your chest, plucking something deep behind your ribs. It wasn’t a voice. It was a hum, thrumming low against your heartbeat, and it asked only that you listen.

Soon, the corridor narrowed. Then came a breath, a sound so low and guttural that it was almost animalistic. Beyond the final archway, the air shifted, heavy with the scent of rust and ancient stone. When your fingers brushed the wall, dust fell away to reveal carvings: clawed talons, coiling beasts, a sigil wrapped in iron chains. Something had lived here, or died here, perhaps both.

The corridor opened into a cavern, hush settling over it, broken only by the slow drip of water and the soft glow of fungi clinging to the ceiling like scattered stars. Below, a shallow pool mirrored the pale light, sending ripples over iron bars sunken deep into the floor. Behind them, hunched in the furthest corner, was a man. Or what was left of one.

At first glance, you took him for a beast. Too lean, too sharp, limbs curled tight, hair falling in tangled, sage-dark knots across his face. Thick shackles clasped around his wrists, wrought from iron that shimmered with faint sigils. Seals, still active, still pulsing with containment. A muzzle was plastered over his mouth, forged from the same cursed metal. He didn’t move, but the weight of his gaze struck all the same, piercing the dark like a blade sliding clean between ribs.

A growl vibrated from his chest, ragged and low, somewhere between warning and wound. You startled, but didn’t back away. There was no true malice in the sound. Only pain. When he finally raised his head, you saw the color of his eyes—gold, but not the gentle hue of fireflies or autumn fields. Starless gold, fierce and ancient, the kind that remembered ruin, the kind that burned without warmth.

“Leave.” His voice scraped like gravel, coarse from disuse. “Go now. Before—” He choked on the words as his body shuddered, then lunged just far enough for the chains to snap taut and yank him backward. The force dragged him to his knees, spine arched, breath torn in broken bursts. Still, you did not flinch.

“You’re hurt.”

His chest rose and fell in ragged rhythm, sweat glinting despite the chill. “I said go,” he snarled. The muzzle warped his words, saliva stringing at its edges. You took a step closer.

His entire frame recoiled like a wounded thing. He thrashed, slamming his shoulder against the bars, wild with panic. But in the midst of the fury, you saw something else. Not rage, not madness, but fear. His hands trembled where they met the ground, not from wrath, but restraint. And that tremor said more than any growl ever could.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said gently.

“I will,” he grounded out through clenched teeth. “That’s what I do. That’s what he made me do. I—” His words faltered, voice cracking like splintering ice. “I don’t get to choose.”

“I believe you,” you whispered. “That you don’t want to.”

No reply came, just the rasp of breath and the soft clink of chains. But as you studied him, you began to see more than just shadow and weaponry. A jawline, high cheekbones half obscured by matted hair, the silver web of scars across his collarbone, thin and branching like frost on a window. He had once been something else. Someone else.

“You should hate me,” he said at last, voice hollow. “They all do. They scream when they see me. Or they don’t get the chance.”

“I don’t hate you.”

His head jerked, disbelief lighting his face like a spark. Anger, sorrow, and something else flashed in his eyes. “You should,” he said, almost a plea. “You have to.”

“What’s your name?” you asked.

The question hit him like a blow. “That’s not—names don’t—” A swallow. “I don’t have a name. Not anymore.”

“Then I’ll give you one.”

“No.” His voice broke. “No. Don’t. Don’t make me something I’m not.”

You knelt by the bars, closer now than anyone had dared in what felt like centuries. The space between you was thin, filled only with breath and stillness. “Then I’ll come back tomorrow, and maybe the day after that.”

His head whipped up. “Don’t.”

“I will.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“I trust you not to.”

“You’re stupid,” he spat. “Naive. You think kindness will undo what I am? What he made me into?”

Your hand rested just inches from the rusted bars. “No,” you said. “But maybe it will remind you that you were more, once, and can be again.” A silence thicker than smoke settled between you. Then you stood, his breath caught, and you turned away.

“Wait,” he said, but too softly for you to hear. The word broke apart behind his teeth, something like a sob, or maybe it was only the wind through the cracks in the stone. He pressed his forehead to the ground once you were gone.

Prayed you would never return.

Prayed that you would.

It began again with footsteps. Softer this time—not the cautious tread of a stranger stumbling through forgotten ruins, but the quiet return of someone who remembered the way. They came like the first stirrings of spring through wintered trees, patient and inevitable, brushing against the silence with the grace of thawing snow.

He remained still in his chains. The memory of your voice lingered like the sweetness of a forgotten lullaby, one he had not permitted himself to dream of. Dreams were dangerous things, after all. He knew this better than anyone.

When you appeared at the entrance of his prison once more, light wrapped around your figure like a misplaced sunbeam breaking into a tomb. In your arms, a cloth bundle was cradled against your chest, tied with a ribbon the color of old blood. Red—like orders barked through gritted teeth, like shackles that seared his skin, like the stains on his conscience. Yet somehow, in your hands, the color seemed gentler. Like the ribbon of a child’s gift, not a soldier’s command.

“I brought you something,” you said, voice soft as dusk. “It’s not much.

He didn’t look at you. If he stayed still long enough, maybe you would vanish like all the other foolish ghosts who thought they could reach him. Maybe you'd realize what he was and leave him to rot among the stones and silence. But you were already kneeling, already unwrapping the bundle with fingers as careful as if you were handling something sacred. From the folds emerged a small wooden container, simple and worn. Steam curled from its seams.

“It’s Almond Tofu. My favourite. I thought you might like it too.”

He bared his teeth, slow and deliberate, the muzzle pressing against his cheekbones with the motion. “I told you to stay away.”

“And I told you I don’t listen very well,” you replied, calm as though he hadn’t just threatened to maim you.

“I could tear your eyes from your skull.”

“If you wanted to, you would’ve done it already.”

You stood, walked past the shattered threshold of his cage, ignoring his previous words. As though you weren’t walking into the belly of a creature who had once been made to devour dreams and leave behind husks. The metal of the muzzle clicked faintly as Xiao’s breath hitched, chains groaning beneath the sudden tension in his limbs.

He said nothing as you sat down beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushed the boundary of his karmic debt. And then, without asking, you reached toward the clasp of the muzzle that had seared skin and spirit alike. He flinched, not from fear, but from disbelief.

It did not burn you.

Your fingers brushed the iron like it was no more dangerous than a breeze on stone. With a soft click, the clasp gave way. The muzzle slipped free and fell to the ground with a hollow sound that echoed louder than it should have. Xiao blinked. The air against his lips felt strange, wind against skin that hadn’t felt the sun in years. He said nothing, but the silence was no longer sharp.

You lifted a spoonful of the tofu, steam curling from the trembling surface. “Here.”

“I don’t eat human food,” he muttered, though his gaze followed the spoon with the reluctant intensity of a starving animal who refused to beg.

“Then pretend. Just one bite.”

He stared at you like you were made of thorns and light. Then, without breaking the stare, he leaned forward and took the bite. The taste bloomed on his tongue like a long buried memory, soft, sweet, subtle as snowfall. It was nothing like the raw meat the god used to feed him between commands. It was gentle, kind. As if food could carry emotion and this one had been made by someone who’d never once tasted cruelty. His brows drew together.

“Well?” you asked. Another beat of silence.

“...More.” A smile tugged at your lips, and you didn’t hide it.

The second bite came easier. Then the third. And by the fifth, he was sitting straighter, eyes no longer wary, but puzzled. He couldn’t understand why something so simple had shaken the dust off a corner of his soul he thought had died centuries ago. And when the last bite was gone, he looked at the empty container with the quiet devastation of someone realizing a miracle had a limit.

He looked at you then, truly looked, and hated that something in his chest gave way when he did.

You began to talk. Not of this prison or the god whose voice still echoed in his bones, but of the world beyond these walls. You painted it with your words, each one a brushstroke: ships that floated among clouds, skies blooming with lanterns during moonlit festivals, gardens that glowed like constellations, and markets alive with the scent of dumplings and the sound of laughter.

He didn’t interrupt. Not once. His eyes remained fixed on your face, as if the movement of your lips could become a lifeline. He drank in every word like a man parched, terrified to ask for more.

When you told him about the wind on the Jade Chamber’s terraces, his fingers twitched.

When you spoke of honey lotus pastries, his mouth parted ever so slightly, as though tasting them from memory he never had.

And when you said, barely above a whisper, “I’ll take you there one day,” he turned his head from you.

“You wont,” he said, but the words no longer bled bitterness. They sounded tired, soft.

He didn’t stop you when you placed the empty tofu dish beside his chains, didn’t growl when you stood, brushing dirt from your knees. Didn’t speak when you turned to leave, but his eyes clung to your back. When the echo of your footsteps began to fade into the cavern, his voice cracked into the silence.

“...Bring more tofu.” It was the first time in four hundred years he had asked for anything.

The chains didn’t feel quite as heavy that night.

[pinkslipxox]

Love Beyond The Miles:

Summary: Billie comforts you over FaceTime 🫶💋💓

Warnings: fluff, angst, Billie being the sweetest wife ❤️🙈

**so sorry it’s been a while, mis amores!**

——————————————————————————

The sun was setting over Seattle, casting a warm golden hue over the city as it transitioned from day to night. Billie Eilish, stood backstage in a bustling venue surrounded by music, lights, and the electric atmosphere of her tour. Even in the midst of the excitement, there was a nagging void where Y/N’s presence usually filled.

Billie pulled out her phone, biting her lip, and after a moment's hesitation, she opened her FaceTime app. Seeing Y/N’s name on the screen brought a surge of longing that she hadn’t expected. As the call connected, the familiar face of her sweet wife filled the screen, and Billie’s heart swelled at the sight of Y/N.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Billie purred, a smile breaking across her face even as her heart ached. She could tell that something was off the moment Y/N appeared on the screen.

“Hi, Bills,” Y/N replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Billie noticed the trembling in her voice.

“Y/N…. what’s wrong, my love?” Billie prompted gently, the term of endearment flowing naturally. “You look beautiful but… I sense that something isn’t right.” Her brow furrowed, concern wrapping around her like a tight embrace.

Y/N hesitated, the distance between them accentuating every unspoken word. “I… I just miss you. It’s hard without you here.” The sincerity in her voice was evident, but the emotion that surfaced next was palpable, and Billie’s heart dropped when she saw Y/N’s eyes glimmer with unshed tears.

“Babe, please don’t cry,” Billie softened, her voice low and soothing as she leaned closer to the screen, as if being nearer could bridge the gap between them. “Y/N, my girl, please. I’m right here.” But the tears began to fall, one after another, and Billie felt a helpless tug at her heart.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N choked out, her voice breaking. “I just miss you so much, and I can’t help but feel lonely without you—”

“Stop. Don’t say sorry for feeling,” Billie said, her tone firm yet gentle, the charismatic side of her persona melting into a tender protector. “You mean the world to me, and I know this is hard.” She took a deep breath, wishing she could hold Y/N in her arms, feeling the warmth of their love enveloping them both.

“Just hang in there for me, okay? I promise I’ll be home soon, and I’ll make it all up to you,” Billie vowed, her voice low and passionate. “You’re my everything, and there’s no one I’d rather have by my side.”

Y/N nodded, tears cascading down her cheeks as emotion surged. “I just feel so alone sometimes,” she admitted, wiping her face but only making it worse, her mascara smudging slightly.

Billie’s heart ached watching her love break down, and within a heartbeat, she was transformed from the confident and passionate singer into Y/N’s adoring wife. “You’re not alone, my love. I’m always with you, even when I’m not there, okay?” Her voice was laced with raw affection. “Just close your eyes and imagine me holding you.”

Y/N closed her eyes tightly, envisioning Billie’s strong arms wrapped around her, the comfort of her warmth enveloping her like a shelter from the storm. “I can almost feel you,” she murmured wistfully.

“Then keep that feeling close, babe. Remember those nights when we’re just wrapped up together, lost in our own little world?” Billie pressed on, her gaze unwavering, projecting all her love through the screen. “I’m counting down the days till I can hold you like that again.”

The two women shared a moment of silence, the bond they had forged enduring across the distance. Y/N took a shaky breath, letting her wife’s words soothe her. “I just want to be with you.”

“Me too,” Billie replied, her voice steady, filled with love. “Just a little longer, okay? And when I come home, I’m going to take you on the best date ever. Let’s get eating and dancing like we used to. You won’t be able to get rid of me after that.”

Y/N chuckled softly, feeling buoyed by Billie’s unwavering support. “That sounds perfect.”

“Now, smile for me, Mrs. O’Connell,” Billie said with a playful wink. “I need to see that beautiful face, okay?”

With a little coaxing, Y/N managed a genuine smile, buoyed by the love emanating from Billie, despite the tears still glistening in her eyes. “Better?”

“Much better,” Billie confirmed, her tone transforming back into that playful spark as she felt her heart lighten. “Just remember, even miles apart, you’re my everything. I’ll always protect you, always be here.”

“I know,” Y/N replied softly, her heart swelling at Billie’s words. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, my pretty girl,” Billie replied, her gaze warm and steady. The screen may have separated them physically, but emotionally, they were intertwined in a way that transcended distance. “I’ll be home soon. Just hold on for me a little longer.”

With promises exchanged and hearts intertwined, the call ended, but the warmth lingered in Y/N’s chest, reminding her that no matter the miles, their love would conquer all.

[foxmurdock]

Soft Spots and Solar Flares.

Paring: Matt Murdock x GN Reader Summary: Acts of service is your primary love language, but it starts to feel like more than that, when it comes to your friend Matt Murdock. Tags: Blood and injuries, mild angst, hurt/comfort, um reader has questionable healthy boundaries for themself? Denial of feelings, no use of Y/N word count: 2600 A/N: This is my submission for @mattmurdocksscars Writing Challenge , Thanks for letting me participate and congrats on 2.5k followers!

“Oh, You're a saint.” It was that exhausted, raspy mutter from your study partner as you had placed a dinged up thermos in front of him. Just a simple expression of Matt’s gratitude as you plopped your bag and books on the table across from him, before uncapping the thermos. The gentle murmur from him as you poured crappy dorm coffee into paper cups you’d snagged from the residence hall’s kitchen.

The glossy wooden library table contrasted sharply with the scuffed surface of the container holding several ounces of hot coffee. There hadn’t been time for you to make the run to your usual cafe, so you had opted to brew some yourself. You had to boil the water using the microwave in the residence hall’s kitchen but you were too worried about other things to care. At least you had been able to use your french press brought from home to brew it and your favorite honey to smother the bitter flavor from the poor water quality.

It was the start of your undoing.

You prefer tea.

But it was just one little change. It was a simple thing to do that brought a little relief to Matt.

But that one single adjustment turned into a recurring action.

You scraped up a bit of extra money to buy a kettle, keeping it in a cardboard box with your french press and your honey. You started to buy coffee grounds instead of tea bags, even though it was a bit more expensive.

But every time you earned a smile from him, there was a rush in your system. You would study his reactions when you tweaked something. You’d adjust the ratio of honey and creamer in the coffee, eye Matt over the rim of your flimsy paper cup, and ask him how it was. Matt would always tell you it was good, but your gaze flicked over his face, looking for the details you needed. During all of your time together, in between classes, late night study sessions and early mornings scrambling to finish projects, you had developed a proclivity for reading the little details of Matt's body language.

A wrinkle in his brow, when he lifts the cup closer to his lips, pausing briefly before drinking, likely means you got the water temperature wrong, and the brew is too bitter. If his nose twitches right after a few swallows, then you probably put too much honey in, but if his lips twitch instead, just after the first sip, then you got the balance right.

It's like a small sugar high every time Matt murmurs thank you in that soft rumble, or if you succeed in doing something that makes him smile. You can almost feel your brain lighting up, the neurotransmitters sparking off in your skull like fireflies on southern summer nights, especially if he tacks your name on to the end.

Even the slightest bit of approval from him fills you with a warmth that you grow to crave. What started as simple acts of fondness became much more.

So you make adjustments. Changes and silent accommodations that start going beyond tweaks to Matt’s coffee.

Your time with Matt and Foggy in college had given you time to perfect that, but after graduation, you don’t get to see him almost every week with a curated cup, so it snowballs into other things.

Once your little group transitions from struggling college students to slightly less struggling adults, you start meal prepping, making a few extra for Foggy and Matt. It isn’t enough for a whole week but enough that you can casually say that you happen to have extra for them, without it appearing like you had done it on purpose.

When you take the food you made, still wrapped tight in foil, out of your bag and place some in Matt’s hand with a little quip about him needing a better meal routine, or he won’t last, he gives you that soft huff, the one that's not a full laugh, but a breathy, boyish chuckle.

“I’ll survive another day, thanks to you.”

Sure, it’s just Matt’s dry humor, thrown at you in deflection of your good intentions, but you can still hear the soft gratitude underneath. It sweeps up the fireflies in your brain, swirling them around on the gusts of his gratitude, sending them sailing on summer air, further rewriting the chemical configuration of your thoughts.

“Let me know if you like it?” you murmur in parting, turning to leave the office with a soft smile, acting like there isn't a sunset lodged in your ribcage.

Life becomes hectic. Between internships, finding a firm to work under, and making sure rent is paid on time, you don’t get to interact with Matt the way you used to. The space you made for him in your soul will ache sometimes, and when you stare out of your streaky apartment window, with twitchy hands and a knot in your gut, you wrack your brain for other things you can do for him.

You went to law school together, but they became defense attorneys, and you took a different path, meaning your work and clientele don’t often overlap. Any opportunities to help Matt there are lacking, so there’s not much you can do there to contribute. You do meet with them at Josie's to catch up after long weeks of work and life. It’s how you get introduced to Karen, and get enough updates that don't break privileges on some of the cases they pick up after starting Nelson and Murdock. Your stomach twists sometimes, and you have to shut down the part of you that wishes you had joined them in starting up their firm.

You would have had more chances to be useful to Matt then.

Instead, you sip your drink and offer occasional input or jokes with them, for work or just for fun, and pretend like you aren’t in knots over the choices you made.

Sometimes Matt joins you, but it becomes increasingly common that he skips out on meeting up, so you see him less, and the ache, the need, burns through that soft spot in your chest, expanding it by increments, then cooling rapidly and leaving jagged obsidian edges every time Karen and Foggy walk into the bar, without Matt trailing in behind them.

You love seeing your other friends of course, and you feel almost guilty each time the disappointment hits you. You have to dig claws deep into your mood to keep it from dropping and tell yourself it’s just because you miss seeing all your friends at once, and nothing else. You should put more effort into being a good friend to Foggy and Karen, wanting to be fair to them, especially when Matt skips out on them too.

Matt would want you to look after them when he can’t.

That’s just one more thing you told yourself when you were helping a drunk, heartbroken Foggy up to Matt’s apartment, the grief of what happened to Elena Cardenas driving his desperate need to help and make positive changes in the city that you all love. You recognized it in Foggy, and it's one of the many things that fostered the kinship in you with both him and Matt a long time ago. So when he insisted that he needed to go talk to Matt after you left Josies, you didn't protest.

But the changes that came out of that night weren't positive. Finding out Matt’s secret life threw so much off-kilter, and the only way you could find balance was to make yourself useful while you floated in the divide that was driven between your friends.

You can’t say your perception of him didn’t shift some when he gave you a vague breakdown of how his senses work. Your initial reaction held some panic of course, but that instinct to help him just flared brighter, overriding everything else at that moment.

You just cleaned up the blood from his skin, not asking if it belonged to Matt or someone else. He would try to insist he could take care of himself, but you were just as stubborn. He would sigh out your name when you showed up at his door with a whole bag of medical supplies, but even with the slight tremble in your fingers as you pressed gauze to a fresh wound on his side, your voice was steady and insistent.

“Let me do this.”

You keep the ‘for you’ off the end of your plea. As ridiculous as it may be, when you’ve gotten his literal blood on your hands, adding that one extra part just felt too intimate.

Your first aid skills are lacking, but you add it to the list of things you can change or improve. It has grown a bit extensive, after learning the depths of Matt’s abilities and senses, but you don’t mind.

This gives you more opportunities to try and help.

You hate that it's because Matt gets hurt that you have these chances, but that just drives you harder and makes you want to be better, to improve.

There are multiple courses you can take, both online and in person, so you start doing that. You commit to it in between your caseloads, and responsibilities. You mix it in with planning meals out for the new week. Lunch for you and then go drop some ‘extra’ off at Matt’s place, using it as a chance to take stock of what condition the previous week has left him in, and nudging him to let you check him over. You feel the familiar buzz of light through your brain when Matt thanks you for the food while you change out some bandages for him.

The new changes to your routine have been enough to sustain you, so you aren’t expecting the tap on your streaky apartment window on a random weeknight. The video on your laptop about how to pack a wound is paused, and an unread case file slips off your lap, as you sit up, twisting in the direction of the sound.

Your already fast pulse spikes a bit at the silhouette of The Devil in your window, perched on your fire escape.

“I thought I was the one who made the house calls.” You try to keep your voice light; even though you know, he can hear the loud drum of your heartbeat from seeing him like this.

It's not common for Matt to come to you first. Not unless he truly needs something, and even then it’s still rare for him to ask.

Apparently, he does need help because he doesn’t quip back at you, and your face drops when you hear him murmur your name, low and pained. You go to pull him in through the window, not even thinking about anything, just burning with that ever present need to help him.

Matt hisses when your hand lands on his arm, and when you yank back, there's a dampness on your fingers. You try not to panic, but your heart still lurches as he pushes his way inside your apartment, your now bloody hands still hovering. There aren’t any words, no scolding him, or a barrage of questions. You just help him to your couch, which Matt all but collapses onto.

Your mind flashes back to the night you and Foggy had found out Matt was The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, bleeding out and half dead in his apartment, and, when everything finally came into focus, how terrified you had been. Not of Matt, but for him, of the possibility of losing him.

You can’t.

You try to steel your nerves, even as you smear bits of Matt’s blood on the handles of your bathroom cabinet while yanking out the first aid supplies you’d stashed away. This is what you’ve been practicing for, isn’t it? It’s why your social media algorithms are full of recommendation videos on wound care, and why you get random ads for trauma kits. It’s been weeks of cramming in as much knowledge as you can.

Because you need to be useful. You have to make sure that Matt stays okay.

You return to where you left him, supplies dropped on your coffee table, placing yourself beside him and assessing the damage. He’s got a few deep gashes on his upper arm, and a nasty laceration on his torso, and when you help him out of the slashed up black compression shirt, you can already see multiple red splotches that tell you he will have some ugly bruising soon.

Setting to work quickly, Matt has to talk you through some things, which doesn’t make you feel very confident, but you force yourself past it. What you feel isn’t important right now, you need to do. You can’t say who flinches and winces more at the moment, you or him when you start stitching up the cuts on his body. Your pulse never fully settles, and there is so much blood. On your hands, cloying your senses. It’s what you blame your watery eyes on.

You focus in and manage to get him fixed up, cutting the last thread in the final stitch in his skin, leaning back to stare at your work.

Your lack of experience glares back at you, bright red and bloody, etched in Matt’s skin and you feel your breath start to come faster through your nose, eyes stinging further with every blink.

But then that soothing rumble hits your ears, and there's a gentle touch on your arm. Your eyes jump from Matt’s abdomen to his face as he pulls your attention out of your anxious mind with a soft murmur of thanks.

“The kit I used for trial stitches didn’t have all the blood.” this is all you manage to respond with, feeling stupid as soon as it’s out of your mouth.

Matt gives a ragged huff, his mouth twitching along with the little touches on your arm, small circles of his thumb rubbing lightly on your skin.

“I can tell you’ve been practicing." he says in something that's slightly too soft to be teasing.

Like you’re the one who needs soothing. Maybe you do. Of course, he can tell.

Maybe you need just a little more. Usually, you don’t ask Matt for more, and only accept whatever gratitude and reassurance he willingly gives you, But you can’t get your pulse to slow down enough, and your eyes keep dropping back to the black thread poking out of his skin.

“Did I do good?” you question, trying not to fidget with your fingers as you rest your hands on your lap, feeling so exposed that it almost burns. You don’t know why it feels so different tonight. Is it because he came to you first, this time? You've cleaned up Matt’s less severe injuries and had some blood on you, But this feels like more than just the nerves of doing something for him that you've only practiced. It’s gone beyond just simple accommodations now. This time you’ve left marks in his skin.

You’ve adjusted his body with shaky stitches, and you need to know if all your effort has been enough.

‘You always do good.” Matt murmures, his warm hand finding your fidgety, still slightly sticky fingers, and holding them gently.

“You're honestly a saint, with the way you keep looking out for me.” he tells you, voice subdued with pain and exhaustion from his bad night.

You would argue, because you feel like all you do is the bare minimum of what he needs, but his touch, his words, it sends up that flare, the embers in your chest catching on the spark of Matt’s affection.

While you can’t agree with his statement, you wonder if the glowing feeling in your heart, in your soul, is what a saint feels like, set alight by the simple action of service. You don’t know. The only thing you’re sure of, as Matt slumps back on your couch, leaning his tired head on your shoulder, is that you will let the light that he ignites in you, burn you up if it means keeping him warm.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Remmick x male reader or (enby at least) can be switch or dom remmick or dom reader doesn't really Matter imo

In the Thirst||Dom!Remmick x Male!Reader

MDNI +18

Summary—y/n refuses to come to the terms that he’s a vampire but remmick is there to remind him of that.

Warnings—dominant partner, biting, bloodplay (light), overstimulation, praise/degradation kink, power imbalance (consensual), light restraint, monster traits (fangs, claws), grinding, oral, size kink, light pain kink, reader loses control in a safe, affirming way.

Word count 1327

The house was dim and cold, lit by a flickering desk lamp and the distant rumble of thunder beyond the concrete walls. You paced the perimeter like a caged animal—boots dragging, body humming with something that wasn’t just exhaustion.

Your throat was on fire. Your stomach ached with a gnawing emptiness that had nothing to do with food. Your fangs had dropped hours ago and refused to retract.

But you hadn’t fed. Not since the change. Not once.

You stopped at the sink, gripping the counter, staring down at your reflection in the cracked mirror. Pale skin, red-ringed eyes, veins threading faintly beneath the surface. You looked feral. Wrong.

Not me, you thought. This isn’t me.

Behind you, the door creaked open. You didn’t need to look to know it was him. You could feel his presence in your teeth.

Remmick.

“You’re spiraling,” he said, calm and low.

You didn’t answer.

“You didn’t feed again after I told you too,” he added. “And don’t lie—I’d smell it if you did.”

You turned, jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re not fine. You’re starving, Y/N.”

You looked away, furious at the way his voice wrapped around your name like a tether. “I’m not drinking blood like some fucking monster.”

“You are a monster,” he said bluntly, stepping into the room.

You flinched.

Remmick’s voice softened. “So am I. But you don’t see me wasting away pretending I’m human.”

You met his eyes, fury burning low in your gut. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to become—this thing.”

“You think I did?”

Silence.

He stepped closer. “You think I wanted to wake up needing blood like breath? You think I liked my first feed—how I tore into a body just to survive?”

You swallowed hard, throat raw with thirst and shame. “At least you embraced it. I’m not like you.”

Remmick stared at you for a long beat.

Then, quietly: “You could be.”

The words slid under your skin, too intimate.

He moved closer still, until the air between you crackled with something electric. “You’re holding back because you’re scared of what it means. Of who you are now. But your body doesn’t care. It wants. It needs.”

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” you rasped.

“You already are.” He gestured toward your own trembling hands. “You’re hurting yourself. You’re starving yourself to death just to prove a point.”

You hated how your legs shook. How dizzy you felt. How right he was.

Remmick’s hand found your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. It was the gentlest touch you’d felt in days.

“You don’t have to be like them,” he whispered. “But stop pretending you’re not like me.”

You closed your eyes.

Your fangs ached. Your skin burned. Your monster wanted out.

“…I don’t know how to do this.”

Remmick exhaled like he’d been waiting to hear that all week. “Let me help you.”

You opened your eyes—and for the first time, didn’t flinch at the hunger staring back in your reflection.

You’re starving,” Remmick growled, voice like honey laced with poison, hand still cupping your jaw like he owned it.

He did. Right now, in this moment—he did.

And you didn’t resist when his grip tightened, or when his other hand slid down your chest, dragging over the torn fabric of your suit, fingers parting it like it was nothing. You didn’t stop him when he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Let me see what that monster’s hiding,” he muttered.

Your cock was already straining against your pants, aching and leaking, desperate for friction. Remmick’s glowing eyes flicked up, locking onto yours as he undid your fly with slow, deliberate cruelty.

When he freed you, his low whistle sent heat straight to your gut.

“Fuck. You’ve been holding this back?” He wrapped a large, cool hand around your length, stroking once—firm and slow. Your head hit the brick wall with a groan.

“You’re so fucking hard, baby,” he murmured. “You need to come that bad?”

You gritted your teeth. “Y-Yeah.”

Remmick licked the head, teasing your slit with the tip of his tongue, tasting your desperation. “Good,” he whispered. “Don’t hold back.”

And then he took you into his mouth—all at once, to the root.

Your knees buckled. A strangled sound tore from your throat as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked you like a man starved, one hand pinning your hips to the wall while the other dug claws into your thigh, holding you still.

He moaned around you, vibrating through your whole body. You looked down, and fuck—it was obscene. His cheeks hollowed, his throat working, strands of dark hair clinging to his face as he worked your cock like it was his personal mission.

You snarled, fangs bared, claws punching into the brick behind you. “Remmick—fuck—Remmick—!”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t want you to hold back.

You came hard down his throat, vision flashing white. He swallowed every drop, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

When he finally pulled back, he licked his lips. “Tastes like sin,” he said darkly. “You’ve got more in you.”

You tried to speak—tried to tell him that was already too much—but he was already back on his feet, lifting you like nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist again on instinct.

“You’ve been hiding from this too long,” he growled into your mouth. “No more. You’re gonna take me now. Every fucking inch. I want your control gone.”

He pressed into you, grinding his hard length against your hole through both your ruined pants, the friction making you gasp, already half-hard again.

“Beg me, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Beg me to ruin you.”

You hated how fast the words came. “Please—fuck—please, Remmick, I need it—need you—”

He bit into your neck again, deeper this time, and your body went wild.

Your claws raked down his back. You bucked against him, panting, desperate. The pain only sharpened the pleasure.

He pulled back just enough to tear your pants down, letting them drop to your knees. Then he shoved his own down just enough to free his cock—thick, heavy, glistening. It pressed against you, and your breath caught.

“You gonna take this like a good monster boy?” he murmured. “Or do I have to break you open first?”

You groaned, nodding frantically. “I can take it—fuck, please—”

He didn’t prep you. Not really. Just spat into his hand, slicked himself, and lined up.

You were still loose from the adrenaline and the orgasm, and when he pushed in—slow, firm—you clawed at his shoulders, crying out. The stretch burned, and it felt so fucking right.

“That’s it,” he groaned, bottoming out. “You feel that? That’s mine now.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Every nerve in your body lit up.

Then he moved.

He fucked into you hard, slamming your body into the wall with every thrust. The brick scraped your back, your legs tightened around him, and you loved it. Loved how unhinged he looked. How primal. How yours.

“Say it,” he growled, pounding into you. “Tell me you’re done pretending. Tell me this is who you are.”

You moaned, dizzy. “I’m done—I’m done, I want this, I want you—”

He snarled and buried his face in your neck again, biting harder, drawing blood.

The pain made your second orgasm hit like a freight train—messy, untouched, body shaking as you painted both your stomachs.

He fucked you through it, relentless. His own rhythm faltered, then slammed hard once, twice—then he growled your name and spilled inside you, holding you so tight you thought he’d never let go.

The alley was silent afterward, save your ragged breaths.

He stayed pressed against you, still buried deep, nuzzling your neck with shocking tenderness.

“I saw you tonight,” he whispered. “The real you.”

You let your claws rest gently on his back, finally unafraid.

“…And?”

“And I want him.” His mouth grazed your cheek. “Over and over again.”

[novaursa]

Hello

I was thinking about something, what if rhaenyra didn’t take the moon tea after sleeping with Criston. She fell pregnant of a girl and since she also had brown curly hair the green think she was harwin’s.

Since she the heir of Rhaenyra, Viserys betrothed her to Aemond. And obviously they slept together.

And you know the scene between Aemond and Criston the night of blood and cheese? Like Aemond says something to see Criston about her, like she had a birthmark maybe and in fact it’s exactly the same as Criston (in an hidden place) and he finally understands that it’s his daughter

I have so much idea with this plot like the hidden daughter of Rheanyra and Criston, I can stop thinking about it..

Blood Unseen

- Summary: Your husband, Aemond, reveals to Cole something that shifts his entire world on its axis.

- Pairing: assumed wife!reader/Aemond Targaryen, (daughter) reader/(father) Criston Cole (platonic)

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The dim light of the flickering candles cast long shadows across the chamber, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the cold night outside. Criston Cole stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, listening intently as Aemond Targaryen spoke. The conversation had drifted from the matters of court, to tactics, to the war that loomed over them like a dark cloud. The flicker of unease was there in both men’s words, unspoken but shared. These were perilous times, and every move was a game of life and death. 

Criston, ever the dutiful knight, maintained his stoic expression, eyes trained on the prince. Aemond paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back, the familiar sway of his silver hair catching the dim light. There was something different about this evening though. Aemond's tone carried a weight that went beyond war. 

“It's curious,” Aemond said, his voice cool and calculated as he stopped mid-step. His single eye, sharp and piercing, regarded Criston with the kind of intensity that always set him on edge. “You have a birthmark, do you not?”

Criston’s brow furrowed slightly at the sudden turn of conversation. “I do,” he replied cautiously, unsure where this was leading. He had little care for such trivial matters, certainly not with the tension thickening the air. 

Aemond approached him slowly, the faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “A peculiar one, I’ve noticed. Right here,” he said, tapping a finger against the area just above his hip, through the fabric of his tunic. “Almost shaped like a dragon’s tail, or so it would seem.”

Criston nodded, still unsure of Aemond’s purpose in this revelation. “What of it, my prince?” 

Aemond’s smirk deepened, and he tilted his head, the eye patch he wore gleaming in the low light. “Y/N has one too, you know.”

The mention of your name sent a shiver through Criston, but he kept his composure. “My princess does?” His voice remained calm, though he could feel something stirring beneath the surface. He had served you for years now, ever watchful, ever loyal, but never had he paid heed to such intimate details.

Aemond’s eye gleamed as he continued. “Just below her breast. The same exact mark. The resemblance, Cole… it’s uncanny.” His words were slow, deliberate, as if savoring the weight of them.

Criston blinked, the revelation settling like a stone in his gut. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly masked, but it wasn’t fast enough. Aemond saw it, and the corner of his mouth twitched knowingly.

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Criston’s mind raced, pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle snapping into place. The resemblance—the dark curls, the sharpness of your gaze. For years, he had believed, like so many others, that you were just another Strong bastard, the child of Harwin. It had made sense, your features mirroring the late knight’s in subtle ways. But now, Aemond’s words clung to him like a curse, dredging up memories of fleeting moments he had long buried.

He remembered your birth, Rhaenyra’s secretive smile when she introduced you to him as her firstborn. The way her eyes lingered on him, as if daring him to acknowledge something he couldn’t. But he hadn’t, not then. How could he?

The mark. It had been there all along, a sign that he had been blind to.

Aemond’s voice sliced through his thoughts, the faintest hint of amusement coloring his tone. “Do you understand now, Ser Criston?”

Criston’s heart pounded in his chest, a rising dread filling him as realization dawned. You were not Harwin Strong’s. No, you were his. His blood, his daughter. The child of his brief and forbidden encounter with Rhaenyra all those years ago. A moment of weakness, of passion, and now, the living proof stood before him every day, a reminder of a secret he never knew he had carried.

Criston’s body tensed, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his voice steady. “Does… she know?”

Aemond’s smirk faded into something darker, more calculating. “If she does, she has kept it well hidden, as has Rhaenyra. But you, Cole… you’ve been oblivious all this time. How fitting that I should be the one to enlighten you.”

Criston felt the weight of those words. Aemond reveled in this, enjoyed watching him unravel. His fists clenched at his sides, the reality of it all crashing down around him. You were his daughter. And all this time, he had been nothing more than your sworn protector, ignorant of the blood that tied him to you.

But now, what did it mean? You were wed to Aemond years ago, promised by the late king Viserys to unite the two halves of the family. The Greens had accepted you because they believed you to be another Strong bastard, another means to a political end. But now… now Criston could see that Aemond knew the truth, and that truth gave him power.

“Why tell me this now?” Criston asked, his voice low, strained.

Aemond regarded him with a cold, measured look. “Because, Ser Criston, I thought you should know what’s at stake before everything… changes.”

Criston stared at him, the unspoken threat hanging between them. The game they played had shifted. Bloodlines, loyalties, the tangled web of duty and secrets—it was all spiraling into something far more dangerous. He had served the Greens faithfully, had believed in their cause, but now, with this knowledge… everything felt uncertain.

Aemond’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before he turned, heading toward the door. “Do think on it, Ser Criston. After all, blood is thicker than water, as they say.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Criston alone in the darkened chamber, his thoughts swirling in a tempest of revelation, regret, and uncertainty.

[witchywithwhiskey]

Ari + 28. “take it like a good girl and stop whining” + 82. “you think your begging is going to change my mind?"

a fruitful afternoon in the strawberry field

pairing: farmer husband!ari levinson x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, breeding kink, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, no condoms, cockwarming, dry humping, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, little bit of bratting, light bdsm, begging, teasing, pet names (wildflower, honey), aftercare, fluff, established relationship

word count: 2,500ish

a/n: ahhh Eva it took me a little while to come up with a fic from these prompts, but i have a feeling you'll enjoy this one 😅 (at least i hope so!!) i'm pretty happy with how this turned out, and i especially love the concept of strawberry farmer ari levinson. i just love him so much and i hope everyone else does too!! ♡♡

The spring sunshine was warm against your skin, the soft breeze caressing your face and the day seemed all the brighter because you were standing next to your husband, Ari Levinson, in an open field of growing strawberries. And he was looking particularly handsome on that spring afternoon. His brown hair glinted gold in the sun, his cheeks rosy with the heat, and when he looked at you, his blue eyes sparkled like the surface of the sea.

While your thoughts were wandering, Ari was bent down, checking on the growth of his strawberries, which were just beginning to turn from green to red as the warmth of spring deepened into the heat of summer. They would be ripe soon, and in just a few weeks, the fields would be swarming with people who came from all over to pick their own strawberries at Ari’s farm.

But on that spring afternoon, it was just you and Ari, the strawberry fields stretching out around you until they ended in the tree line that separated the farm from the wilderness beyond. You were alone, and your husband looked far too enticing kneeling in the dirt he’d sowed himself for you to pass up an opportunity to show him how much you adored him.

Which was how Ari ended up on his back between the rows of strawberries, your knees planted on either side of his hips and your bare pussy rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. Your sundress fluttered around your thighs as your hips rocked, your hands pressed flat against Ari’s stomach, your fingertips digging into the layer of softness that cushioned his muscles beneath.

“That’s it, wildflower, take what you need—rub that achy little cunt all over daddy’s bulge,” Ari rumbled, his big hands gripping your hips. Neither of you paid any mind to how he was rubbing dirt into the cotton of your sundress, making you just as dirty as him. “Does it feel good, honey?”

You mewled your response, tipping your head back so your face was turned toward the sun. It felt better than good. Ari’s bulge was thick and hard between your thighs, and your slit was already so wet and messy, it made the slide against his rough jeans feel deliciously wonderful. You felt like you could ride Ari’s bulge for hours and never get tired of it. 

But then Ari thrust his hips up from beneath you, bouncing you on his lap and your eyes flew open, finding your husband’s gaze as he stared up at you like a goddess made mortal. Your inner walls clenched around nothing and you whimpered, your arms trembling as your elbows gave out and you collapsed against your husband’s chest. Sizzling pleasure raced down your spine and through your nerves, making you shake and shudder.

“Need your cock, daddy,” you whined, your fingers grabbing fistfuls of Ari’s shirt as you clung to him, your hips still writhing as you stole as much pleasure from his bulge as you could manage. Lifting your head, you sought your husband’s gaze again, giving him your most pitiful pleading look. “Need you to fill me up, wanna feel your big cock stretch my little hole, daddy, please.” 

Ari brushed the backs of his fingers over your cheek and he gave you a regretful look. “Condoms are in the house, wildflower,” he said, his words a reminder that you were off your birth control. And if you’d thought about it harder, you’d have remembered it wasn’t a safe time of the month. 

But you weren’t thinking about the risks or what the two of you had previously discussed. You were thinking about Ari’s cock splitting you open and and his seed spilling deep in your cunt. You were thinking about your belly growing round and swollen with Ari’s baby. You were thinking about your husband breeding you. 

You wanted it so badly, it took your breath away—it was all you wanted. But it wasn’t what the two of you had decided. Still, you were so needy, you couldn’t stop yourself from begging your husband for his cock, even if he wouldn’t breed you. 

“I don’t care, daddy,” you whined, pushing yourself up until you were sitting on Ari’s lap again. His bulge was so hard and heavy between your thighs and you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking harder on it. “I need you—I need you,” you cried, barely stopping yourself from begging him for a baby. Your voice was high and thin and pleading, and you held Ari’s gaze as you trailed your fingers down his chest, hooking them into the hem of his jeans. “I’ll be good, I swear,” you promised, giving him an innocent look.

Ari huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, but his mouth was curving into a grin like he couldn’t help himself when it came to you—and you knew he couldn’t. Ari knew you well enough to know what you really wanted, and you knew your husband well enough that you knew he was close to giving it to you.

“You’re gonna be good for me, huh, honey?” Ari rumbled, his grin spreading wider and his blue eyes sparkling up at you. “So, that means you won’t start begging me to put a baby in your belly when I’m balls deep in your sweet cunt?” Ari asked dryly, raising a playful eyebrow at you. 

Your core clenched at Ari’s words and you instinctively pressed down harder against his bulge, your pussy dripping onto his jeans and soaking the front of his pants. But you ignored your body’s response and nodded, an eager smile on your lips. You knew you were lying, and you knew Ari knew you were lying from the long look he gave you, but you both decided to play along anyway.

“Fine, fine,” Ari huffed, biting back a laugh that shook his chest. His hands gathered the skirt of your sundress and pushed it up until he could see your slick cunt rubbing idly against his bulge. You watched his eyes darken and his mouth curve into a hungry smirk. “Take daddy’s cock out, wildflower.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans for a moment before you managed to get it open. Then you pulled down his fly and reached inside to take his cock in your hands. He was thick and long and perfect and you smiled as you stroked him reverently. But you were too impatient to do more than that, pushing yourself up onto your knees to line yourself up with the tip. 

You were plenty wet, but Ari was so big and thick that it only took the head of his cock pushing into your tight hole for you to start whining. “Daddy, daddy, you’re so big,” you mewled, raising your hips and pressing down again, taking another inch of his hard cock inside you. 

“You begged for this, wildflower,” Ari said through gritted teeth, the muscle in his jaw popping as you sank your hot cunt down on his cock. “Take it like a good girl and stop whining.” 

His filthy words sent a shiver down your spine and a low moan slipped from your lips as you pushed down on his cock, taking him deeper. Your pussy ached at the stretch, but it was a delicious kind of pain and you wanted more of it. Lifting up, you slammed back down on Ari’s cock, taking him another couple of inches. 

“Oh god, daddy, it feels so good,” you cried on a gasp, fucking yourself on Ari’s cock as you took him deeper with each thrust. 

His hands gripped your hips, holding your dress up out of the way so he could watch you impale yourself on his cock. Otherwise, he laid still between your thighs, content to watch you do all the work, which only made you hotter. 

Your hands let go of his shirt and began playing with your tits, groping yourself through your dress. “Fuck, daddy,” you moaned, fucking yourself on his cock, taking him deeper with ever downward thrust. “Your big cock feels so good in my tight little pussy, daddy, just wanna ride your dick all day.”

“Don’t know how long ‘m gonna last, honey, you feel like heaven around me,” Ari murmured, his voice warm and thick as honey on a hot spring day. “So tight and warm and perfect—your perfect pussy wrapped around my dick.” He groaned when you sank down the final inch and your bodies were joined together to the root of his cock. 

You moaned and rocked your hips, feeling his cock shift deep inside you, the tip kissing your cervix and making you clench hard around him. You knew you’d promised to be good, but your need for your husband to breed you was too strong. 

“When you come, come inside me,” you murmured, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop yourself.

Between one moment and the next, Ari’s eyes caught yours and he sat up, one of his hands wrapping around the back of your neck and holding you still on his lap while he half-heartedly glared at you. 

“I thought you were going to be a good girl for me, wildflower,” he rumbled, his voice low and dangerous in that way that made you shiver. Despite the growly tenor of his tone, you knew there was no anger in your husband, and you gave him a playful smile.

“We both know I was lying, daddy,” you said sweetly, innocently batting your lashes at your husband. You leaned in until your lips were ghosting over his, teasing him. “Besides, we both know you love it when I beg you to fuck a baby into me,” you whispered, confidence in your sultry tone. “You wanna plant your seed in me and watch my belly swell with the child we made together, don’t you daddy?”

Ari growled and captured your lips in a fierce kiss, showing you exactly how much he wanted what you described. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“We decided to wait until the summer to get pregnant, honey,” he rumbled, reminding you of the conversations you’d had when you weren’t drunk on his cock. But his free hand was urging your hips to rock on him, making it impossible for you to care about what you’d decided before.

You moaned helplessly, feeling Ari’s cock twitch and throb inside you, the tip rubbing against a spot that made you see stars. Pleasure was swirling through your body, your clit grinding against the base of him, and it was too much. You couldn’t have stopped the words from flowing from your mouth even if you’d wanted to.

“Knock me up, daddy, please, I wanna have your baby,” you begged desperately, uncaring of what you and Ari decided before you’d gone into the fields and sank down on his cock. “I can’t wait until the summer, I want you to put a baby in me now—breed me, please, daddy, daddy, please, please, please.”

Ari groaned as his hand tightened around the back of your neck. “You think your begging is going to change my mind?” he growled, pressing hard, suckling kisses to your neck, his beard rasping over your skin and his teeth nipping at your jaw. “You think your sweet pleading is going to make me forget what we decided?”

In one fluid movement, Ari flipped you onto your back, laying you down in the hay that covered the dirt between the rows of strawberries and he settled his hips between your thighs. His cock sank even deeper into your cunt and you moaned mindlessly, tossing your head back against the soft ground. Ari pushed your knees up toward your chest until you were bent in half in a mating press. His eyes, wild with hunger and desire, met yours, and his mouth twisted into a needy snarl.

“Because it did,” he growled and began fucking you hard and fast. 

His big cock bottoming out in your tight pussy made you scream in pleasure, your fingers diving into your husband’s soft hair. You clung to him while he rutted into you like a man possessed—like a man intent on breeding his wife.  

“We’re making a baby today, honey,” Ari promised, ducking down to capture your lips in a messy, brutal kiss. “I’m fucking you full of my seed right here in the strawberry field until you’re ripe and swollen with my child.” He trailed kisses down your cheek until his mouth was right next to your ear. “You’re going to make such a pretty mommy, wildflower.”

Your whole body clenched at Ari’s filthy words, and all you could do was chant, “yes, yes, yes, daddy, daddy, daddy,” as he pounded into you. Your pleasure built quickly, and it wasn’t long before you were mewling and moaning and writhing beneath Ari’s big body, only for him to pin you down more firmly and reach between your bodies to find your clit.

Ari rubbed your tight little button in harsh circles and you were helpless to the pleasure. You came with a shrill cry, your head tilted back, face turned toward the sun and the smell of earth and strawberries filling your senses. Your body clenched tight, your hands fisting in your husband’s hair as your pussy squeezed his cock. 

With a low groan, Ari followed you over the edge, mumbling, “Gonna make you a mommy, honey, can’t wait to see you round with my child—so pretty, so pretty—my pretty little wildflower.” He pressed deep inside you, and you felt his cock throb in your cunt, his seed spilling into your womb while he groaned his pleasure. 

Ari rocked into you, making you moan as he fucked his come deeper inside you, until you were both trembling with the overstimulation. Digging an arm beneath your back, Ari flipped you both over so he was laying on the ground and you were sprawled across his chest. His come leaked out around where his softening length was still lodged inside you, but neither of you could be bothered with trying to clean it up yet.

The spring sunshine was warm on your back and Ari was strong and sturdy beneath you, his heart beating against his ribcage under your cheek. You smiled to yourself and hoped that Ari’s seed would take. You couldn’t wait to have a child with him, even if it was a little earlier than you’d planned. 

Lifting your head, you caught your husband’s eye and were happy to see he looked just as content as you felt. Leaning up, you caught his lips in a kiss that said everything you needed to say—you loved him, you appreciated him, you couldn’t wait to grow your little family with him. And he returned your feelings in kind, kissing you back. 

The two of you stayed out under the spring sun longer than you’d originally intended when you’d tagged along with Ari to check on the progress of the crop. But it turned out to be a fruitful afternoon in the strawberry field—though it wouldn’t be until well after the strawberries had ripened and been picked that you learned just how successful your spring romp had been.

[riddlesrizzler]

Kiss me on the mouth, and love me like a sailor

summary:“I’d rather drown in you than live safe and hollow without you.” characters: sailor! mattheo. siren! reader warnings: mentions of drownings word count: 2.8k a/n: fourth week of festival of aus! i was originally going to write for a knight and princess but this has been lingering in my mind forever!

The cove curled inward like a secret kept too long, cradled by crumbling cliffs that bore the scars of wind and tide. It was a place the maps forgot, where time breathed slower and the sea spoke in lullabies and laments. Salt hung heavy in the air, spun into lace by the breeze that threaded through seagrass and the gnarled fingers of driftwood.

Here, the morning rose in watercolor-peach and periwinkle bleeding into the silver foam as waves pressed tender kisses to the shore. The sand was cool, soft with memory, scattered with shells that shimmered like forgotten coins from a sunken kingdom.

Gulls cried overhead, not out of hunger, but as though bearing witness to something sacred. The world beyond the cliffs blurred like a half-remembered dream, and in the hush between wave and wind, it was easy to believe that the cove itself was alive-ancient and watching, waiting for the next soul to wander in and listen.

Mattheo Riddle knew the cove like he knew the sound of his own breath-quiet, constant, edged with something unspoken. He had sailed these waters since boyhood, his hands calloused by rope and salt, his skin sun-kissed and wind-marked. The sea had raised him, rough and tender, and the cove had always been her gentlest offering.

His boat-a slender, timeworn thing named Nox-cut through the dawn-lit water with reverence, as if it, too, understood the holiness of the place. Sails furled like the wings of a resting bird, he let the tide guide him into the hush of the inlet, where the world fell away and memory rose to the surface like foam on a swell.

He dropped anchor in the shallows, boots echoing softly on the deck, eyes scanning the familiar curve of shoreline. The cove had not changed. Not truly. The stones still whispered beneath the waves. The air still tasted like brine and old magic. But each visit felt different, as though the cove greeted him not as a place, but as a presence-shifting, waiting, watching.

Mattheo stepped ashore, and the moment his feet touched the sand, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding slipped free. He belonged here, more than he had ever belonged anywhere else. Even the ghosts seemed to nod in recognition.

He ran his fingers along the jagged edge of a rock, where moss grew in thin, delicate veins. “You remember me,” he murmured, not to the rock, but to the cove itself. “Don’t you?”

And the waves, as always, answered.

He waited along the shore, boots half-buried in the wet, cold sand, his coat caught in the breath of the sea breeze. The tide crept inward like a secret spilling itself, inch by inch, wrapping around his ankles in cool ribbons. Mattheo didn’t move. He never did, not when he came here for this.

The cove shimmered with stillness, the kind that came just before something began-or returned.

He told himself he shouldn't be here. Not again. Not after last time. Not after the way the song had wrapped around his ribs and tugged, not after the way he'd staggered back to the Nox hollow-eyed and trembling, her voice still echoing in the salt of his blood.

But reason had never had much of a voice in this place. The cove silenced logic, softened resolve, and turned longing into a current too strong to swim against.

He knew what he was waiting for.

Not a what, but a who.

A presence stitched into the water like silk threads through seaweed. A shadow beneath the foam. A voice that haunted the deep and curled itself inside his bones. She never came quickly. No-she liked to take her time, as if savoring the way anticipation made him unravel.

And he let it.

Because no matter how far he sailed, how many ports he docked in, or how many skies he slept beneath, this place, she, always called him home. Not with words, but with that quiet, aching pull-an invisible hook lodged somewhere behind his sternum.

He sat down in the sand, elbows on his knees, eyes cast toward the horizon where the sea melted into sky.

“She’ll come,” he whispered, half to the waves, half to himself.

The moon had climbed higher now, pale and watchful, its reflection stretched long across the cove’s still waters. It glowed with that same soft, silver fire that had lit the sky the night he first saw her-the night everything changed.

Mattheo’s gaze fixed on it, and time slipped. The present thinned, giving way to memory like the tide pulling back to reveal what was buried beneath.

He had been younger then-reckless, curious, still believing he could outpace whatever haunted him. The sea had been calm, but the air strange, charged with a hush that pressed against his skin like breath on the back of his neck. He’d anchored in the cove for shelter, unaware that something was waiting beneath the lull of the waves.

He hadn’t meant to go into the water.

But something had drawn him, something soft and sorrowful, almost human, yet not. It sang to him in tones too ancient for language, tugging gently at the frayed corners of his soul. And so he’d gone-boots discarded, shirt clinging damp to his back, wading until the water lapped at his chest and the world behind him fell away.

That was when he saw her.

At first, just a shimmer beneath the surface-light bending wrong, as though the sea itself had opened its eye. Then hair like kelp and silk, trailing behind a face too lovely to be safe. Eyes deeper than the ocean’s darkest trench, glowing faintly, mournfully, knowingly.

She hadn't spoken.

She hadn't needed to.

Her song had already wound around his heart, tethering him with invisible thread, soft as a promise, sharp as a blade.

He remembered how the moonlight had caught on her skin, turning her into something ethereal, something unholy. He remembered the sudden, sharp ache in his chest-not fear, not even desire, but something older. Recognition, maybe. Or fate.

That was the night he stopped belonging to the world above the waves.

Back on the shore now, Mattheo blinked, breath catching as the memory faded into the crash and hush of the tide. The moon had not moved. It still hung there-silent, round, complicit.

“She remembers too,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, thick with salt and sleepless nights.

And out past the breakers, something moved.

The water stilled.

No breeze stirred. No gulls cried. Even the waves seemed to hesitate, as if the sea itself were holding its breath.

Then, she rose.

Not all at onc-never all at once. First the shimmer, like moonlight caught in the tide. Then the curve of a shoulder, pale and glistening, breaking the surface as if the ocean reluctantly let her go. Her hair fanned out around her, dark as kelp, threaded with salt and secrets. The shadows clung to her, soft and reverent, as she stepped onto the shallows without sound, the water barely rippling at her touch.

Her eyes found him in the dark.

“Mattheo,” she said, his name like a sigh the sea had been holding in for too long.

His heart surged, every beat a storm tide.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice quiet-firm, but laced with something tender, something breaking.

He stood, slow and steady, like any sudden movement might make her vanish. “I know,” he said. “But I can’t stay away.”

She looked at him then, truly looked-like she was trying to memorize the shape of him, or maybe find something in his face that could save them both.

“That’s the problem,” she whispered, moving towards him, as far as the ocean would let her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mattheo swallowed hard, salt sharp on his tongue. “Then don’t.”

Her expression faltered. “It’s not that simple.”

She reached out, fingertips hovering just above his, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin. But she didn’t touch him. She never did.

“I’m not human like you,” she said. “Not entirely. I was made to lure, to ruin. And you… you make me forget that. You make me want to remember what it’s like to be something else.”

The waves curled around her ankles like they were trying to pull her back.

“But you do remember,” he said. “When you’re here. With me.”

She closed her eyes, and for a moment, Mattheo thought he saw a tear slide down her cheek-but it could’ve been seawater, it always could’ve been seawater.

“That’s why it’s dangerous.”

The wind returned in a hush, brushing past them like it, too, didn’t want to interrupt. The sea lapped gently at the shore, a soft, rhythmic pulse beneath their silence.

Mattheo stepped forward, slow, steady, his voice raw. “You think I’m lying.”

Her gaze dropped. “I know you are.”

“I’m not.”

She shook her head, just once, but it carried the weight of a thousand tides. “You’re human. You feel things in bursts-flares of light that burn out just as quickly. You don’t love me. You’re enchanted. Entranced. You don’t know the difference.”

“I do,” he said, more fiercely than he meant to. “I know it when I’m sailing in silence and I still hear your voice. I know it when I wake up in a crowded harbor and reach for you like a fool. I know it when I look at the sea and it doesn’t feel like freedom anymore-it feels like you.”

Her lip trembled, but she turned away, as if the shape of his words was too much to bear.

“You think I don’t know what you are,” he said, softer now, stepping into the foam where she stood. “But I do. I know the stories. The songs. I know how sirens end. But I also know what I feel when I look at you-and it’s not fear.”

“You should be afraid.”

“I’m not.”

Her breath hitched. “You will be.”

“I’d rather drown in you than live safe and hollow without you.”

She looked up at him then, eyes wide, luminous, full of something old and aching. “Why would you say that?” she whispered. “Why would you say something like that to me?”

“Because it’s true.”

Her hands fisted at her sides. “You say you love me-but I can feel your heartbeat. I can feel the way it rushes when I’m near. It’s not steady. It’s not safe. It’s not love.”

He stepped closer, inches from her now. “Then tell me what it is,” he said. “Tell me what else would make me come back here, again and again, knowing it could be the end of me. Tell me what else would make the sea feel empty unless you’re in it.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. The tide lapped at her tail, a slow, silver breath between them.

And then-quietly, almost brokenly-she said, “Don’t make me hope.”

She pushed herself back, as if his closeness might unravel her completely. The moonlight caught on her skin like silver fire, but her eyes were darker now-wide, wild, and wounded.

“Even if I wanted to,” she said, voice barely more than breath, “you’re human. And I’m…” She paused, swallowed hard. “I’m a siren. We could never be.”

Mattheo was quiet for a long moment, watching her. Watching the way her hands trembled, the way she kept her chin lifted like a shield, the way her voice cracked around the edges of truth. She wasn’t just pushing him away.

She was scared.

Scared because she felt it too.

That changed everything.

“No,” he said, gently. “Not ‘could never be.’ Just… afraid to be.”

She flinched like he’d struck her, and that’s when he knew.

He took a breath, slow and sure, and reached for the buttons of his coat. “You want proof?” he asked, voice low, steady, the kind of calm that only came in the eye of a storm.

“What are you doing?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising like the tide.

He didn’t answer. His coat fell first, then his shirt, left to the sand like old armor. The cool night wind kissed his bare skin, but he didn’t stop. His boots followed, then his trousers, until he stood at the water’s edge clothed in nothing but moonlight and the look in his eyes-a look that said I choose this. I choose you.

She took a shaky step back. “Mattheo, don’t.”

He stepped into the water.

Every inch he waded deeper, the sea welcomed him, slow and cold, until it hugged his ribs and whispered up his spine. He moved toward her, not like a man chasing something wild, but like someone offering himself to it completely.

“I don’t care what you are,” he said, the water curling just below his shoulders now. “Siren, myth, storm-I don’t care. I love you. And if that means walking into the sea every night for the rest of my life, I will.”

She shook her head, but tears slipped down her cheek-—undeniably hers, not the sea’s. “Why would you do this?”

He paused then, chest rising and falling with the rhythm of the tide, and said the only thing that mattered:

“Because I think you love me, too.”

She didn’t answer-not with words.

But her expression shattered.

And then, slowly, beautifully, she sank beneath the water.

Mattheo froze-until a hand, soft and sure, reached up through the surface.

She was waiting for him.

The water stilled around him as her hand broke the surface-pale, glistening, fingers outstretched. For a moment, Mattheo just stared at it. Her hand looked so human, so gentle. But he knew it wasn’t.

Nothing about her was ordinary.

And yet, everything about her felt right.

He took her hand.

The moment his fingers closed around hers, the sea shifted-welcoming, not wild. A sudden warmth pulsed through the cold, like the water itself recognized their bond. And then, she pulled.

Not violently. Not to drown. It was a beckoning, a surrender-his and hers.

He let go of breath, let the air leave his lungs as she drew him beneath the surface. The sea swallowed him whole, the moonlight fracturing above like shattered glass.

She was there, inches from him. Eyes wide and endless. Hair like ink spilling through water. Her hands found his shoulders, sliding up the curve of his neck, anchoring him as though she feared he’d drift away if she didn’t hold tight.

And then, clear as a bell in the deep hush of the ocean, she spoke.

He didn’t understand how-it wasn’t through ears or sound, but through thought, through soul, like her words had always existed inside him.

"Kiss me on the mouth, sailor."

His heart surged. He didn’t hesitate.

Their lips met like a current-soft at first, reverent. Then deeper. The world fell away. Time stilled. Her mouth tasted like salt and sorrow, like longing and eternity, like the answer to every question he hadn’t dared to ask.

She held him close as the water danced around them, glowing faintly with their magic. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her to him like he was afraid she’d vanish. But she didn’t. She stayed. She kissed him like she meant to stay forever.

And for one perfect moment, under the sea, under the spell of something older than stars-

-they both forgot how to be afraid.

The kiss broke like a wave.

Softly. Slowly. A breath parting from a body. A flame dimming in a storm.

Mattheo kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, letting the memory cling to his lips, letting her presence linger in the space between heartbeats. The warmth of her hands still ghosted over his skin, her touch like silk spun from moonlight and tide.

But when he opened his eyes- She was gone.

Only the sea remained.

Dark and endless. Empty.

The water was colder now. Deeper. The glow that had shimmered around them had faded into shadow. No trace of her. No ripple, no silhouette, not even a glimmer beneath the surface.

Just the slow, steady pain of silence.

He turned in a slow circle, searching the vast blue-black void, lungs burning, heart heavier than the ocean pressing in on all sides. He wanted to scream, but the sea would only drink the sound like it always did.

She’d vanished. Again.

Stolen away by the very water she’d come from. Just like that night beneath the same moon, just like every time before.

But this time, she’d let him in. This time, she kissed him. This time… she felt it too.

He kicked toward the surface, breaking into the open air with a gasp, chest heaving, eyes scanning the empty cove. The moon still hung there-unbothered, unknowing. The tide whispered at the shore like nothing had happened.

Mattheo pulled himself onto the sand, the water falling away from his body in sheets. He lay there, soaked and shivering, staring up at the stars as if they might tell him where she went.

She had kissed him.

And she had left.

But she always did.

And still-he would wait.

Because the sea had her, But his heart did, too.

[n0vazsq]

Wildflower | FC43 x Reader

pairing . . . franco colapinto x reader

summary . . . You confront Franco about your past heartbreaks, and together, you two choose to move forward, healing in each other's love

request . . . kind of!

word count . . . 1.3k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . well this took me some time!! hope you guys like it <3

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The night was unusually quiet, the kind of stillness that made the world feel smaller, as if everything beyond the dimly lit streets had faded into a forgotten dream. You walked side by side with Franco, the cool air catching on your skin, your steps syncing without either of you trying.

The tension between you had grown like an unspoken shadow, a presence you both felt but never named.

Franco’s hand brushed yours, but it wasn’t the touch that lingered, it was the weight of everything unsaid. His eyes, usually bright with mischief, were distant tonight, clouded with memories that didn’t belong to you.

You couldn’t help but ask, softly, "Do you still think about her?"

He paused mid step, his breath catching. The silence stretched out, but you refused to look away. Franco always had a way of hiding in plain sight, his heart buried beneath layers of charm and laughter. But tonight, the walls felt thinner.

"I don’t want to," he finally whispered, his voice almost lost to the wind. "But… she’s still there. In the back of my mind."

The confession hung between you, heavy with the weight of things left behind. You should’ve known better than to ask. Should’ve known that the past had a way of clinging to the present, like rain that never quite dried.

But you couldn’t help it. You had to know where you stood in the echo of someone else’s love story.

"I see her sometimes," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Not in a way that I want to. It’s just… reminders. Songs. Places."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the words of a song swirling in your mind. Did I cross the line?

"She was crying on my shoulder once," you whispered, the memory surfacing like a ghost. "That night in July. Before… before you and I."

Franco looked up, his eyes searching yours. "That wasn’t… it wasn’t what it seemed."

But you knew it had been. That moment had bridged the gap between you two, had drawn you closer in a way neither of you had planned. But it also left you wondering, wondering if you were a replacement, a chapter written to cover up the last.

"I don’t need to be reminded that you love me," you said, your voice trembling. "But I need to know if I’m the one you see now. Or if it’s still her."

He stepped closer, the space between you dissolving. "You’re not a replacement," he murmured, his voice raw. "You’re… you’re different. She and I let go. We fell apart. You know that."

"But it doesn’t feel like it’s gone," you whispered. "Not completely."

The streetlights cast long shadows as he reached out, his hand gently cradling your face. "I don’t see her when I look at you. I see everything I want. But I can’t erase the past. I wish I could."

His words were honest, too honest, and they broke something in you. Not because he didn’t love you, but because love wasn’t always enough to clear away old ghosts.

You wanted to be the wildflower that grew in the ruins, not a reminder of what once was.

"Valentine’s day," you muttered, tears welling. "I was crying in that hotel. I didn’t tell you why."

Franco’s eyes softened. "Why?"

"Because I could feel it," you said, the words spilling out like a confession. "I could feel that part of you was still with her."

He closed his eyes, as if the weight of it all was too much to bear. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"I know," you whispered. "But it still did."

The silence stretched between you again, but this time, it was different. The weight was shared, the pain no longer hidden. Franco’s thumb brushed your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.

"I want to put it behind me," he said, his voice low, almost pleading. "I want us to be enough."

You searched his eyes, looking for something you couldn’t name. "Do you see her in my eyes? When you touch me, when you kiss me, when you hug me… do you think of her?"

He shook his head, his voice breaking. "No. It’s you. It’s always been you. Even when I didn’t know it."

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of rain. For a moment, the world felt suspended, as if the past and present had collided and left you both standing in the wreckage. But there was something beautiful in the brokenness.

A wildflower blooming through the cracks.

Franco leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "I don’t want to lose you."

You closed your eyes, the ache in your chest softening. "Then don’t."

He kissed you, and for the first time, it felt like a promise, not of forgetting, but of moving forward. The past might linger in the shadows, but it didn’t have to define you. Not anymore.

As the rain began to fall, you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the storm wash away the remains of what once was. Maybe good things didn’t always last, but sometimes, the best things grew from the ruins.

The rain fell harder, each drop a reminder of how fragile everything was. How love, like a wildflower, could be crushed under the weight of a storm or bloom defiantly through it.

Franco’s arms tightened around you, his heartbeat steady against your ear. You held onto that rhythm, grounding yourself in the present moment, in the warmth of his embrace, in the silent promise that neither of you dared to say aloud.

"We can’t change what happened," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rain. "But I can choose what happens next. And I choose you."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. The storm had stripped away the masks you both wore, leaving only raw, honest vulnerability between you. It was terrifying, and beautiful.

"I’m scared," you admitted, your voice trembling. "Scared that one day, I won’t be enough. That the past will always be there, like a shadow."

He reached up, tucking a rain soaked strand of hair behind your ear. "The past will always be a part of me. Of us. But it doesn’t have to define us." His gaze softened, a small, almost broken smile playing on his lips. "You’re not a shadow. You’re the light that’s pulling me out of it."

The words settled into your heart, planting seeds of hope you hadn’t realized you needed. Maybe love wasn’t about erasing the past but learning to grow around it, like vines that twist through ruins, turning something broken into something beautiful.

"I don’t want to keep looking back," you whispered, your voice steadier now. "I want to build something new. With you."

Franco’s eyes lit up, the storm in them clearing just a little. "Then let’s start now."

He leaned in again, this time the kiss was slower, deeper, an unspoken promise. As the rain soaked through your clothes, you felt the weight of the past finally begin to lift. It would always be there, lingering in the corners of your story, but it didn’t have to be the ending. It didn’t have to be the thing that broke you.

You pulled back, breathless, and smiled. "Wildflowers grow after the storm, you know."

Franco laughed softly, his forehead pressing against yours. "Then let’s see what we can grow."

Together, hand in hand, you walked through the rain, leaving the past behind, step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat. Maybe it wouldn’t be easy. Maybe the ghosts would never completely vanish.

But you had each other. And sometimes, that was enough to turn ruins into wildflowers.

And maybe, just maybe, you were finally ready to bloom.