Tsalyani - Hello!

I may like Logan more than I thought 🥵

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

I may or may have not teared up a bit

This is so sweet and an awesome reminder that there are no ugly people, only a judgemental society

How do you think Lee or any of your characters will react to an ugly reader (like me)?

Ugly reader? I'm sorry but I've never heard of such a thing. I don't think I know anyone in this world I would term ugly based on appearance. You, my lovely, gorgeous anon are beautiful and I will not stand for anyone calling you ugly, not even yourself.

You wanna know how the boys will react to you? Read on.

Steve Rogers: The moment he hears you call yourself ugly he stops what he's doing and just looks at you. He frowns, looking almost confused as he gazed at you. He takes your hand and pulls you into his massive chest, brushing your hair back so he could see you clearly.

"Ugly? You? The girl who shines so bright she lights the world around her, you're calling her ugly? Who gave you the right to talk about my best girl like that eh? No one compares to you, not from back in the 40s, not today. You’re the beacon of light that keeps me grounded doll. Gotta show you how beautiful you really are"

And he proceeds to do just that.

Bucky Barnes: He heard you say to Nat that a dress won't look pretty on your ugly body. That night, he sneaks in your room and crawls inside the covers with you, holding your body tight to his. He took your in his and metal one, lips at your ear.

"What do you see when you look at me?" He asked.

"A broken beautiful man deserving of love" you answered automatically. He tips your chin up so that he could look in your eyes, the tenderest of look swimming in the blues.

"I see the same when I look at you. I see a woman who found the most scarred man and still loved him. I see a woman so pure I fear I'll taint her with my bloody hands. Never call yourself ugly, never again."

Lee Bodecker: Lee straight away snorts when you call yourself ugly. He rolled his eyes at you as he swiftly gathers you in his arm and sits you on his lap. He takes his hat and puts it on your head, the rim falling loose and slipping over your forehead so he had to push it up with a finger. 

"You're the only pretty thing in this shitty town. You've got a heart as big as my tummy" he takes your hand and pressed it into his soft flesh "you're the only one whose smile I'd both die for and kill for. Ugly my ass, you're the most beautiful gal I know and you're all mine".

Ransom Drysdale: "What the fuck did you just say?" He asked when you said you look ugly. You look at him aghast, not expecting the outburst. He stepped closer, putting his arms on either side of you and looking at you intently. 

"Have you met my family? My fucked up, greedy aunts and uncles? Have you met my mother? They wear a thousand dollars clothes and still manage to be the cheapest people I have ever met. And you? You can wear a burlap sack and would still be the prettiest flower because you found it in you to love a shitty brat like me. Now come here so I can show you how beautiful you are."

Andy Barber: He was driving when you made the comment, the word ugly said almost unconsciously. You blinked when he stopped the car, turning to look at you.

"I've studied law for over nearly two decades and there are two things that I know are wrong with them. The first one is that it should be illegal for anyone to be as beautiful, as amazing as you, and the second that it should be a punishable offense for anyone to call such a woman as yourself ugly. I'm a lawyer, trust my judgement. Nod if you understand."

You nod, he smiled and restated the car, one hand reaching over to pull yours in his lap.

Tony Stark: He knocked over the lab apparatus he was working with and stared at you incomprehensibly. He had that expression on his face that he reserved for idiots who didn’t understand his science lingo.

"What the hell are you on about? Sweetpie, you love a man who made weapons that killed hundreds. You gave me your love when I didn't deserve any. You gave my kindness when I didn't deserve any. You think anyone who's ugly could do that? I'll book an appointment with the ophthalmologist, you need to get those eyes checked."

Loki : He was in the middle of polishing his blade and the moment the words "I am ugly" passed your lips that blade shot out and embedded itself in the opposite wall.

"i am a man of magic. I can create the most unthinkable illusions with my mind and hands, and yet no matter how proficient I get, I'll never be able to create something as beautiful as you. You need to stop talking like this, I don't like it when people disrespect those that I hold dear."

Sherlock Holmes : He shut the newspaper he was reading and put it on the desk behind him as he pinned you with his stare. 

"When I search for something, I usually get it because I have a gaze that doesn't miss much. My every quest for beauty and love has led me to you. My mind and heart have never seen anything as beautiful as you. I am Sherlock Holmes, I don't lie. Believe me when I say you haven't got an ugly bone in your body.”

He opened his arms, asking you to come to him.

“I am a detective, let me show you the evidence of how utterly breathtaking you are.”

+++++

So my dear anon, I need you to shut up about this. You’re not ugly. You are worthy and amazing and beautiful and all things nice in this world. 

inspired by this post 

Peaceful autumn

Congrats hun! Captain America would be proud of y'all!

Also how about 'monster cock' with Steve? I know I have no class😶😶

Monster Cock

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Summary: It was big, and you couldn’t stop staring.

Warning: Explicit language. Sexual themes. 18+

Teaser

“Jesus,” you squeaked, unable to look away from the monster cock before you.

Steve could feel his blush heating up his chest and face, even his ears were burning.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered, not quite sure what to say. “I uh, well, you know how I am with these things.”

You blinked owlishly, finally pulling your gaze from the big screen TV that was playing some ridiculous monster cock porn. You glanced over at Steve, smiling as he held our three different remotes for you.

“I don’t understand why there’s so many for one device.”

You giggled, picking the main remote and quickly shutting off the porn.

Steve actually sagged in relief when you fiddled with the buttons and CNN lit up the screen.

“I wasn’t watching that, by the way,” he gestured faintly toward the TV. “It just started playing when I was making my smoothie.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the communal kitchen.

You glanced between the kitchen and the TV, then to the little red light that indicated one of Tony’s many easy to miss surveillance slash Jarvis devices.

“I have an idea what happened,” you muttered. “I think Tony was messing with you.”

“When isn’t he?” Steve rolled his eyes before moving back toward the kitchen.

Feeling mischievous, you tagged along, leaning against the counter across from him. You watched as Steve grabbed a handful of kale from the big bag on the counter as he went about finishing his smoothie.

As nonchalantly as possible, you asked, “So was that your first time seeing a monster cock? Or do you see one every morning when you shower?”

You giggled as Steve completely missed the blender and dropped his handful of kale on the floor.

Like Real People Do

This is part of lokisoul 1k writing challenge. It was inspired by Hozier’s Like Real People Do.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: light swearing, pure fluff

Word Count: 4914 (I can’t wrote short things.)

Summary: Loki has just started dating the reader and he is struggling to express how much he cares about her. So he goes to Thor for help. It does not go well.

***

Sunday

“Thor, I need your help,” Loki asked hesitantly. He regretted asking his brother for anything but he was desperate.

Thor looked up from his cup and with his twinkle in his eye smiled.

“Why brother, how desperate you must be to come to me for help.”

Thor rarely gets to throw Loki’s words back in his face, so he relished the moment.

“Brother, I am serious,” Loki pleading, “You are friends with Y/N, am I correct?”

“I am. What does that have to do with you?”

Thor was just taunting his brother now, Y/N had come to him a few days ago and let him know Loki had asked her out. She had wanted to make sure Thor wasn’t going pummel his brother into oblivion. Thor was pleased to see Loki finally making good decisions. But that didn’t mean he was going to let him off easy.

“Well, I have decided to court her, so to speak, and I need to some help,” Loki shifted from side to side, clearly uncomfortable, this was uncharted territory for him.

“I don’t know how to properly express my affections towards her and I was wondering if you offer some insight.”

Thor snickered, “Why don’t just ask Y/N yourself?”

This was just too good. Thor decided to have a bit of fun with his brother. All’s fair.

“That would ruin the element of surprise, brother,” Loki quipped back.

“Fair enough. Well, I she has mentioned to me quite often how much she enjoys cats, perhaps you can get her a kitten?” Thor offered sincerely.

There was a glint in Loki’s eye. As much as he hated to admit it, his brother was on to something. But why just get an ordinary Midgardian kitten, when Y/N was deserving of so much more. He rushed away to begin making plans. Thor was startled by his brother’s abrupt exit.

“Where are you off, brother?” Thor asked after his departing brother.

“To make plans!” Loki bellowed, not even bothering to turn around.

Continuar a ler

Why This Chris Must Go

I didn’t post this until I’d waded through seventeen different sources - including The New York Times and California political donor records (which are public) and wasted too much time that should have been spent harassing my daughter about her homework. But there was a joking little Twitter poll about Which Chris Must Go? that went viral when people starting posting about Chris Pratt’s political and “spiritual” leanings. I was on the fence about Pratt since he abruptly divorced Anna Faris and left their special needs son to hastily marry Katherine Schwarzenegger. Then, he joined the GOP Schwarzenegger family’s church, The Hillsong Church, which considers LGBTQ+ an “offense against god” and advocates for electroshock therapy to get rid of the gay. (Remember that barbaric shit? Even my backwards ass state banned it.) He also works with Jews for Jesus, who attempt to convert people from the Jewish faith to Christianity (I guess with electroshock therapy, since that’s working for the gays, right Chris?) Aaaand, he and his adorable bride donated a heavy chunk of change to Trump’s 2020 re-election campaign. I’m no political scientist, but that sounds like a pretty staunch support for this psycho to get re-elected. Frankly, I don’t care. That’s not why I’m disgusted.

It was quite the backlash. And so guess who leaps to his defense? Some of the rich, white straight guys from Marvel. Robert Downey Jr. who initially posted “Fuck you all.” in response on his Instagram account deleted it before adding this lovely moment of concern. My sweet Mark Ruffalo (oh, Mark, how could you?) did as well.

You know who didn’t leap to his defense? Brie Larsen. Tessa Thompson. Zendaya. (Nor any of the other Chrises, by the way.) So, where was the support when these women were viciously bullied online? Brie got death threats for daring to become Captain America. Tessa and Z were ruthlessly subjected to racism and misogyny for acting in the Marvel Universe. Not a fucking word of defense for these women- who were truly being brutalized. So, RDJ? Fuck you, kitten. Fuck you for being a hypocrite and defending the guy just because the public learned about his leanings and “spiritual” activities. And Mark, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed. And for the other rich, white, straight Hollywood guys to leapt to his defense? Brie, Tessa and Z are still waiting for your passionate words of support.

You just moved into a new neighbourhood and hadn’t had time to introduce yourself to all of the neighbours.

Hal watched you closely through the window, he was instantly drawn to you and knew you had to be his…

AHH! You know I adore Hal.

A Sure Thing

Pairing: Hal Carter x Female Reader Summary: Hal welcomes you to the neighborhood. Word Count: Over 770 Warnings: Implied sexual content, insta love (is that a warning?), Hal Carter (he is a warning) A/N: Thanks for the thot, my hoe partner! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @vase-of-lilies and divider by the brilliant @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Looking out the window, Hal found himself staring at your place. Again. You moved into the neighborhood not too long ago and were still getting settled. It was strange, but he felt like you belonged with him the moment he saw you. It was your smile that caught his eye. And he knew you were the kind of woman a man dreamt about being with.

Hal didn’t have many things to call his own. He worked hard to build his home from practically nothing and he would always be proud of what he accomplished on his own. Still, he wished he had someone to share it with. The music that filled his place often made him feel alone, but no one around town knew that. They had their own issues to deal with and he didn’t need to complain about being a bit lonely.

You walked out the front door, his eyes following your every movement as you went to the mailbox. You hadn’t had a chance to introduce yourself and he wondered why he hadn’t done so himself. Glancing up from the mail in your hand, you made eye contact with him. He didn’t close the curtain or hide. He kept his gaze steadfast on you.

You raised your hand in a small wave, smiling that same smile that drew him in. Hal wasn’t a coward. If life taught him anything, it was to go after what he wanted. Pushing himself away from the window sill, it was now or never.

He was surprised to see you walk toward his place as he opened the front door, his throat dry the closer you got to him. You were even more beautiful up close. It took everything in him not to take you right there in the grass. He couldn’t behave like an animal, especially when he hadn’t introduced himself.

“Hi. I think I got a piece of your mail,” you smiled, holding up an envelope. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself.”

“I was actually coming over to say hi myself,” he gave you his most charming smile, holding out his hand. “Hal Carter.”

You told him your name as you gave him the envelope, feeling a spark as your fingertips touched. A shiver of anticipation rolled down his spine as he looked straight into your eyes, holding your gaze as he took a step closer. There was something between the two of you. He knew you felt it, too.

“You wanna come in for a drink?”

Hal’s mouth descended on yours once the front door was shut, swallowing down your small yelp as he pushed you against it. He kissed you deeper, your lips parting for him as he pressed his hard body against yours. He wanted you to feel exactly what you did to him. The taste of you on his tongue produced a craving he didn’t know he was missing. He knew once he dove between your legs and tasted your sweet wetness that he’d be addicted.

Your ragged breathing made him smirk as he pulled his head back, taking in your dazed expression. “If that’s what my kisses do to you,” he began, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb over your lips. “I can’t wait to see how blissed out you’ll look on my cock.”

You blinked, your eyes still glazed as you gave him a smirk of your own. “You say that like it’s a sure thing, Hal Carter.”

“What can I say? I know a sure thing when I see it, baby.”

The soft laugh you let out before you sucked his thumb into your mouth made him impossibly harder. He groaned as you moved your tongue around, your expression somehow innocent as he watched you. Your look called for him to both ruin and take care of you.

“What makes you think I’m a sure thing?” you asked as his thumb slid out of your mouth. “Maybe you welcome everyone to the neighborhood this way.”

He chuckled, unable to resist gripping your chin and stealing another kiss. He detected a hint of strawberry on your delicious lips, making him lick his own. “Just a feeling. And no one else has gotten this kind of welcome,” he promised. He wasn’t that kind of man.

You brought your hand to his cheek, relief in your eyes. “You know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started.”

“So you don’t mind showing me the rest of your place before we have that drink?”

Hal smirked when he picked you up in his arms. “I’ll show you the bedroom first. Best room in the house.”

Take You Higher

Summary: Most people don't have an assassin waiting for them in the backseat of their car, but it's your lucky day.

Pairing: Assassin!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Almost 3.2k Warnings: E/xplicit s/exual content, unprotected s/ex, car s/ex, p/ossessive behavior, w/eapons, pet names, canon divergent, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Nix provided me with a beautiful edit of Bucky and I began a new AU, A Different Call. This is for you, Nix, and I can't wait to share more of this world.❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was later than usual as you made your way toward your car, your gaze darting from left to right before you checked your phone. There was just enough light illuminating the lot where you could see where you were going, but not much else beyond your path. Everyone said it wasn't safe to walk alone at night, but you took your chances. The keys between your fingers made a quick weapon for anyone who got too close. If anyone was dumb enough to put their hands on you, the sting from the brass would be the least of their worries.

It’s almost fun when people underestimate me.

Your gaze moved to the ground before you got to the driver’s side, satisfied that no one was underneath your car as you tucked your phone in your bag. There were no vehicles on either side of yours for anyone to grab you and pull you in. If people had the chance to look inside your head, they might think you’re paranoid. You’d argue you had your own reasons to be. Danger lurked in the darkness, waiting to strike the moment anyone let their guard down.

What people didn't know was that shadows often lingered by the light and the most trustworthy of people wore masks in the form of smiles. You learned to live in the shade and make your own fragments of light. While trusting people didn’t come to you as easily, there were a few you let in. Those who didn’t mind living in the gray.

But according to the one you let in the most, you were the one who brought color into the world.

Glancing at the passenger side seat, you smiled to yourself as you got into the car and locked the door. Normally you reached right for the seatbelt. Tonight, you sat still and took a deep breath. A combination of a sweet and musky fragrance greeted you. It smelled like home.

It was why you didn’t flinch when you felt the muzzle of a gun against the side of your neck.

"Didn't anyone teach you to check the backseat before you get in a vehicle?"

The deep timbre of the voice behind you sent a chill down your spine that settled at the base. Daring to glance at the rearview mirror, you were met with a pair of cold blue eyes and a face framed by long brown hair. His lips were set in a grim line that accentuated the scruff surrounding them. Even with how spacious the back of your car was, he took up a good amount of space with his massive frame.

Death in the form of the most handsome man alive.

James “Bucky” Barnes. A former Army Sergeant turned assassin for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s STRIKE team. Most of the intelligence community referred to him as the Winter Soldier.

You simply called him yours, like he called you his.

"Maybe I’ve been waiting for an assassin to try and take me out. Only for me to flip the script and have him spare my life," you answered, smiling when he pressed the gun a bit harder against your neck. You wondered if he felt your pulse race through the metal. "Maybe even make him fall madly in love with me."

He didn't smile back at your reflection, but warmth filled his eyes in a familiar and tender gaze. "What if this assassin is already madly in love with you?"

You swallowed as he traced the barrel down to your shoulder. "Then I guess I win."

“We both win,” he whispered, sitting back in his seat and taking his gun with him. “Get back here.”

“You don’t want us to drive home?” you asked, though you made no move to put the key in the ignition.

“I said get back here,” he growled, your heart beating faster. You knew what that tone meant. You’d be lucky if you were able to walk tomorrow. “Now.”

Huffing playfully when you caught his narrowed eyes in the mirror again, you still decided to push just a little. “Bossy. Give me a second so I can- Bucky!”

You weren’t sure how he managed, but he moved your seat back far enough to grab and pull you beside him. And he managed to put his gun away before you collided with him. It didn’t surprise you though. Your man had multiple skills and was likely pent up from waiting in your car. You were pent up, too.

“Missed you,” he whispered, forcing you to straddle him.

When he framed your face with calloused hands, you expected him to pull you in for a kiss. But his eyes searched yours for a moment and you knew he was committing you to his memory once more. The love of your life had his head messed with a long time ago to the point where he lost control of his own actions and memories. While he was in a better place now, you never questioned when he needed to look at you for a second longer than usual.

If gazing at me grounds you, I’ll let you stare forever.

“I missed you, too,” you breathed, moaning when he finally brought his lips to yours and parted them with his tongue.

You didn’t realize how fast your heart was racing until Bucky slid a hand to your chest, teasing your breast through the fabric. Knowing he was back home with you was both a comfort and a sigh of relief. In the line of work the two of you were in, the promise of tomorrow was never one you could make. It made each moment that much more precious.

“Not gonna make it another minute without being inside you,” he warned you, shoving your dress up to your hips and careful to avoid the knife strapped to your thigh. You wore the garment, and the weapon he gave you, with the expectation he’d be home today. “Tell me you need me.”

“I always need you, Bucky,” you said, grinding your hips in a slow rhythm. Your barely clad pussy rubbed against the bulge in his jeans and it was enough to make his head fall back. “You need to be inside me? Need to feel my pussy around your big cock?”

“Yes. When we get home, I’ll make love to you,” Bucky snarled, making you gasp when he grasped your underwear and tore it from your body. “But I need to fuck you first, so be good and take my cock out.”

You rubbed yourself against the front of his jeans again to leave a wet spot before you raised your hips. “You better not be hurt,” you teased, but your eyes flashed in a warning as you unbuckled his belt.

“You’re free to check me when we get home. After we're in bed,” he offered, bringing a hand to your face again so you’d look into his eyes. No one ever looked at you with such devotion until he came into your life. “But I’m okay."

In a world full of lies, you trusted him completely.

"If you're okay, I'm okay," you whispered, wasting no more time as you unzipped his pants and reached inside his underwear. The size of him never ceased to amaze you. It also left you in awe how hard he felt in your hand when you wrapped your fingers around him. You might not make it another minute either without him inside you.

If anyone walked by and happened to look in the window, they’d get quite a show. At least before Bucky got his gun out and pointed it in their direction. The man would be able to find a way to shoot someone and fuck you at the same time.

"Take me in," he ordered, gripping your hips as you guided him to your waiting hole. "Please."

Bucky wasn't desperate or a man who begged. But the strain in his voice and the raw need that shone in his eyes, it told you how much he needed you. It was a heady feeling to bring the often cold assassin to the brink. It was also an honor that he trusted you when he let those walls down.

"God," you moaned as you sank down agonizingly slowly, locking eyes with him as you did as he ordered and took him into you inch by inch. It didn't matter that he didn't stretch you first. The sting was one you welcomed since you both asked for it. Who cared if you were a little sore tomorrow when you knew he'd take good care of you?

He exhaled as he allowed you a moment to adjust. It wouldn't be long until he rolled his hips up. "Only name I want you to speak is mine. Because if there is a god here tonight, it's me."

Bucky may not be a god in the literal sense, but he had been the beginning of your salvation. You walked beside him when he offered his hand. It was the path you were meant to take.

And you had almost forgotten how good it felt to have him inside you.

"Then fuck me properly, Bucky," you said, kissing him again because you could.

A low and dark grunt rumbled against your lips as he moved beneath you. Your body enveloped him in a tender and heated embrace, welcoming him home. He'd encourage you to ride him and match his pace shortly. For now, you savored every thrust of his cock, thick and bare, nothing separating you. Both of you preferred it that way.

"Ride it. Show me how much you missed me," he groaned after a minute, bringing a strong hand to the back of your neck. Your heart raced as you watched his eyes darken more. "Look at me. Don't you fucking look away."

A whimper fell from your lips, eager to please him as you braced yourself on his shoulders and raised your hips. The slow slide of his cock along your slick walls felt heavenly before you moved back down. You'd bounce on his cock all night if he let you. "So full," you moaned, never wanting to be empty again.

“Still tight no matter how many times I fuck you,” he said, licking his lips as he leaned back against the seat. The slight shift in the angle had him pushing deeper inside you and you weren’t ashamed of the loud cry you let out. “Perfect pussy and it’s all mine.”

You clenched around him at his words, your body tingling as you fucked yourself on his cock. He met you halfway, a subtle indication that you were equals and partners. Two halves of a whole. Living, breathing proof that soulmates existed in some capacity.

A reward for the hell you both went through.

“I need you to come in me,” you begged, shuddering when the head of his cock brushed your g-spot. Unduliated pleasure rippled from head to toe as he swore in Russian. His release dripping out of you later would serve as a beautiful reminder of his claim. He had every part of you. “Please. I've been so empty without you."

"I need you to come on it first,” he groaned, fucking up into with enough force that you had to grip his shirt to hold on. You weren't just heading toward your climax. He was going to catapult you there. “Give it to me and I’ll give it to you. Come. Make a mess all over me.”

Bucky gripped your chin before your head could fall back, making sure you stared in his eyes as you came. Your pleasure belonged to him and you accepted that as you shivered through your orgasm, unashamedly gushing around him. Your pussy was exceptionally greedy when it came to him and you weren’t ready to come down from the high just yet.

“That’s it. Give me everything,” he demanded, holding you still so he could thrust deep and chase his own release. Your walls twitched, the wet, sucking sound adding to the addition of your soft moans and his grunts. You gave it all and were ready to take everything he gave you in return.

“Give it to me, too, Bucky," you pleaded through the haze. "I can take it.”

He pressed his forehead to yours as he moaned your name, holding you close as he spilled inside you. Bringing a hand up to grip his hair as his hips stilled, you smiled as he let out another moan. You breathed heavily before giving him a peck on the lips, smiling wider as he began to catch his breath. His eyes always took on a gorgeous shade of blue when pleasure clouded them.

“Welcome home,” you exhaled, trying to move beside him.

“Wait,” he whispered, firmly bringing your hips back down and keeping him around his thick thighs. You gasped at the friction against your clit, your body wanting more already. “Just. Stay like this.”

He buried his face against the side of your neck, nosing along your skin as he evened out his breathing. It was almost a ritual when he came back from an assignment to hold you this way. If you weren’t in your car, your clothes would have been torn to shreds or thrown on the floor. Which you fully expected once he drove you home.

And you would make him drive since he decided to ambush you in the best possible way.

“You sure you’re okay?” you whispered after a minute, his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. "Nothing went wrong on your assignment?"

“It went off without a hitch,” he answered, mouthing at your pulse. “It's just getting harder to be away from home. Away from you.”

The slight vulnerability in his tone made you pause before your fingers gently combed through his hair, your heart still beating fast. You didn't have a home until the two of you made one together. “I get it,” you whispered.

Before you, Bucky didn’t mind most of his missions. That changed once he took you under his wing. It comforted him to have someone else watching his back. But the rare assignments he had to take alone, he liked them less and less as time went on. He hated being away from you.

It pained you, too.

You whined in surprise when he bit down hard on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “You didn’t look in the backseat. Why not?"

The post orgasm bliss faded at the slight growl in his tone, yet aroused you all over again.

"Because Steve gave me a heads up that he saw you before I went into the parking lot and I checked the motion detector on my car through my phone,” you told him as his tongue soothed the sting. He could avoid being seen, so he likely wanted his best friend or you to spot him. You were all careful otherwise. "You also left me the all clear signal on the passenger seat."

Spotting the bouquet tied with a single blue ribbon before you got in the car, you knew it was safe to get in and that he was waiting for you. He bought Peruvian flowers for you on your first date and chose them because of the beauty and color. He said that you brought those things back into his life. It became a signal for the two of you, as well as a token of affection.

Maybe one day, I'll have his last name as the ultimate sign of devotion.

Bucky always had those specific flowers for you when he returned from a mission and often bought them for you just because he wanted to. And if a day ever went by that he didn’t have the flowers upon coming home, or if the flowers were out of the ordinary, you’d know something was wrong. You had your own signals for him, too.

“That punk,” he said, kissing back to your lips. “He's lucky he's my friend. I wanted to surprise you."

He could count on less than one hand how many people he loved and trusted. You and Steve were two of the very few. It was only natural that the S.T.R.I.K.E. member and former Captain kept an eye out for you and vice versa. Someone important to Bucky was important to you.

Not to mention, Steve was a good man. It seemed like there weren't many left in the world. You saw why your lover respected him and called him a friend.

“And just when have you managed to surprise me?" you asked.

"The first time we saw each other face to face," he replied.

The day he was supposed to kill you.

“That's true," you agreed after a beat. "You don’t regret choosing to save me?”

Bucky pulled back with the softest smile on his face as your heart swelled in your chest. The look of love in his eyes nearly stole the oxygen from your lungs. His thumb brushed your cheek and it shocked you when he wiped away a tear. You didn’t know it had fallen.

“I regret a lot of things in my life, but you will never be one of them,” he assured you, kissing the spot where he brushed away your tear. “I’ll never regret loving you, Kitten.”

You raked your fingers softly along his scalp. He called you that before the two of you fought and the nickname stuck. You didn’t mind it. Your stealth, flexibility, and reflexes were catlike at times. He picked up on those things immediately.

“And I’ll never regret being yours, Killer," you swore. He'd never let anyone else call him that. "Or loving you.”

You understood the assassin better than most. To some degree, you knew what it was like not to be in control. Choices were taken away from you. People used the two of you for their gain, but he helped put you on a path of hope.

All because he made a different call that fateful day.

“Put your claws away,” he groaned when you moved your nails along his head again, making him rock inside you. His stamina drove you wild. “Or we’ll have round two here instead of in our bed.”

“But you promised you’d take me home and make love to me.”

"And I will, but I may need to ruin you here one more time,” he smirked, slipping his tongue into your mouth before you could argue.

If he wants to use sex as a weapon, I’ll happily accept every wound.

Before the night was over, he took you home and made love to you as he promised. He held you so close against him that it was as if you shared one breath. He even watched you as you fell asleep, an unexpected fear gripping him. In the back of his mind, he sensed that someone was still out there waiting to take you away from him.

But if anyone ever tried, he'd burn the word down to save you all over again.

Let's hope no one is dumb enough to go after Kitten. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi