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little-miss-dilf-lover · 3 months ago

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REDAMANCY. 18+

pairing. logan howlett x fem!reader word count. 3915 summary. you often worry you can never keep up with your husband's continuous acts of love and care, your attempts always seeming to come up short. logan catches on and shows you that there’s nothing for you to prove. warnings. 18+ only!! reader has a moment of inadequacy at the beginning, logan being attentive<3 quick description of thigh riding but it's not proper, titty kissing, fingering, cum eating? (licks his fingers) pinv sex. angst start, fluff middle, smut ending. mdni a/n. #needthat

Feelings of inadequacy seem to follow you like a stray dog. The constant, repetitive thought that what you do or say or think or feel may never be enough. But it was silly really, to be afraid of the contents of your own mind, especially when you had no reason to feel that way.

You thought these feelings were controlled, contained even. But as you anxiously twist your wedding ring upon your left finger, you can’t help but slip into that prior mindset you believed to be packed away. You beside the stove, mindlessly watching the simmering pot of tonight's dinner, staring at the vegetables bubble around in the sauce.

It was Logan’s favourite, and it was a token of your appreciation for yet another grand gesture of his love towards you – the thanks a slither of what he does for you on the daily. But as you watch over the chicken pie filling in the saucepan, you can’t help but notice something missing, something that’s supposed to be there but isn’t.

And when you blink from your fixed, hazed stare, you see exactly what you need on the countertop. The chopped up pieces of bacon on the board —his favourite part— sitting there like it’s mocking you, telling you that you’re terrible for forgetting it. And it’s not like you can add it now, it would be horrible and ruin it completely.

All you can do now is move on, move past it. Though now it feels like you can do anything but. The bacon a reminder of your apparent failures, inadequacies. It was silly to be caught up on missing meat, but it wasn’t just about that – it was like it was even more proof that you were out of your depth with Logan. That forgetting the bacon somehow made you a horrible, horrible person.

You stare at the board for a moment, trying so desperately hard not to let it get to you and then you see Logan walk past the window – a couple fresh chopped logs of wood under one arm, an axe and a bunch of wildflowers in the hand of his other. And somehow the sight made you feel nothing short of awful. His thought and care once again overshadowing your attempts.

You quickly wipe under your eyes, an act of precaution to make sure nothing had seeped from you while you beat yourself up over something so tiny. You follow the sound of the front door opening, the scuffling of his boots following shortly after as he places down the pieces of timber.

“Smells fuckin’ good,” he compliments, the warm, homely smell hitting at his nose immediately.

He walks over to you, right, flower-held hand tucked from your view as he moves to stand behind, free arm reaching for your waist the second he’s close enough.

“I got’ya somethin’,” he whispers behind you, punctuating his sentence with a kiss under your ear – his neck peering round and over your shoulder.

You turn into him, your back against the edge of the counter to see what you already knew to be in his hand. He pulls the flowers from behind his back, the stems cut neatly with the help of his adamantium tools. They’re beautiful, all hand picked from the surrounding forest around the cabin.

He guides them to your hand, noticing your unusual hesitation as you stare at the bouquet. He, too, pauses, looking over your face to understand your silence. Did you hate them? You never usually hate them.

“Do you…” he hesitates, trying to find the words. “Hate them?”

“No,” you say, word soft as you shake your head, the motion just as gentle as your voice.

Logan cocks his head slightly, angling to meet your eyes but you only divert them again, turning away from his gaze as you reach for the bunch of flowers. Only now they’re out of your grasp, his hand to his chest.

“You okay?” he asks, the withdrawal of the gift an attempt to make you meet his eyes.

“Yeah,” you lie with a nod, a small, faint, smile accompanying the fib.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

You look over him quickly, expression bashful as you shrug. He hates when you lie to him, especially about these things. It was only a white lie really, just a small, teeny tiny mistruth to spare yourself from embarrassment. But your silence doesn’t last long.

“I messed up dinner,” you admit, the confession pried from you by his prolonged, patient silence. Your words are quiet as you avoid his eyes, instead staring down to his chest.

He glances past you and into the saucepan, seeing no such fault. He faintly shakes his head, features quizzical as he tries to understand.

“It looks good to me,” he says, with a slight, but genuine shrug – unable to see what you see.

You close your eyes with a sigh, the noise light and airy as your head drops, gaze lowering.

“I forgot the bacon.”

His head cocks once again, the motion like he’s growing more and more confused.

“Yeah?” he prompts, trying to get you to say more.

But that’s all there is to say, you forgot the bacon – that’s it. It wasn’t like it was a pause or the beginning of some speech.

“It’s your favourite part,” you reply, defeat evident in your voice.

“Uh-uh?” he guides you through your confession, still unsure of what the issue is. He knew there was more, he just had to ease it out of you.

“It’s your favourite part,” you repeat, momentarily glancing up to meet his eyes. “It’s not your favourite meal if I forget your favourite part,” you cut yourself short as your voice begins to waver, a bubble forming in your the back of your throat.

He holds onto your short eye contact, following your gaze when your head goes to turn. “Come on now, talk to me,” he offers his comfort, speaking like it was a plea.

“I feel like I can never keep up.”

“Keep up with what?” he questions, desperate to keep you talking.

“With you,” you pause and place your hand over your opposite upper arm, the act a brief moment of self soothing. You exhale softly before continuing. “You do all these nice things for me— see? Look,” you point to the flowers in his hand. “Right there. You thought of me and you got them and they’re beautiful. Why can’t I do that?”

Logan opens his mouth to speak, though you’re keen to continue. The bandaid free and invoking all your feelings to come out at once.

“I make you desserts, I make a mess. I buy you something, I buy the wrong thing. I make your favourite dinner, I ruin your favourite dinner,” you pause, your vision growing blurry. “Sometimes,” you pause once more, wiping your eyes. “Sometimes I don’t know if you know how much I love you. Like, I can never seem to prove it and I don’t—” you cut yourself off, stopping yourself from what you were about to say. You didn’t want to make a further mess of things.

“You don’t, what?” he asks, his attention undivided as he listens to you. “You don’t, what?” he repeats, eyes boring into yours as he urges a response from you.

“Want you to feel like you made a mistake,” you confess, voice quiet like you were ashamed for thinking such thing.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” he questions, flipping your moment of insecurity back on you. Though his words hold no malice, no intention of hurt – just simply speaking like he was trying to figure you out.

Your silence speaks louder than any words could. Your eyes quickly flickering over his face like you were anticipating what he may say in response. It could go one of two ways: irritated and angry or soft and hurt.

“I haven’t,” he says, voice as firm as his eyes. “I know I haven’t,” he repeats, trying to engrain it into you.

All you can offer Logan is a faint, flattered smile, fragments of disbelief just as evident within you as before. One thing about your husband you knew to be forever true, is his earnest nature. So you knew he wasn’t telling you what you wanted to hear only to spare himself.

Logan places the flowers on the counter to the right of you, laying the bunch neatly at your side. He keeps his attention on you, eyes fixed on yours as if he’s trying to prove his sincerity – his honesty.

His head drops slightly as he rests his lips against your forehead. “Do you believe me?” he asks gently against your skin, punctuating his question with a kiss to where he just spoke.

You wrap your arms around him as you tuck your face into his neck, hands connecting in the middle of his back. “Yeah,” you reply, word muffling into him.

It was a lie, a partial lie at that. You knew in your heart —deep, deep in there— that it was true, and that you believed it, but right now? You just couldn’t get it into your head. So you lied, not wanting to run around in circles with repetitive asks all evening.

But this is Logan, he knows your tells and when you’re lying. But he doesn’t poke any further, instead pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling away, clearing his throat briefly.

“Why don’t you go lay in the tub,” he starts, usual gruff voice now soft, speaking like he’s trying to soothe you. “I’ll finish that off,” he gestures with his eyes, nodding to the stove top on the other side of you.

You turn to look at the ‘mess’ beside you and nod, accepting his help with no more deflecting or avoiding. And as you step aside, you stroke over his back where your hands laid just moments before, the act another one of your silent thanks.

His left, ringed hand brushes your left, ringed hand as you move from your placement in front of him, your fingers loosely entwining for a short, brief second before passing.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Standing in front of the dresser in your shared bedroom, you change from your towel and into something a little more comfortable – opting for a robe and slippers. You give yourself a quick glance over as you pass the mirror on your way out the room, though you don’t take too much notice, instead flicking off the light switch as you set off to the living room.

The bath helped. It helped massively, actually.

Your slippers scuffle along the hallway of your cabin, the floorboards worn and creaky by it’s old age. Lingering in the doorframe, you look over at Logan on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the lit fireplace ahead – looking as though he’s lost in thought.

“Hi,” you start, capturing his attention.

His eyes flick up to you, a faint —his usual— smile welcoming you back. He clears his throat like he’s going to speak but instead he taps the empty seat on the couch beside him.

You look around the open space before your eyes land on the orange, warm light shining out of the oven and onto the tiles. The pie you started to make now sitting on the centre shelf. The rest of your messes cleaned and tucked away, all evidence hidden. And there he sits, asking for no recognition – no praise or approval for cleaning up after you. He’s just there, patiently awaiting you.

“How long’s it been in?” you ask, gesturing to the oven. “The pie,” you add, turning to look at him with a smile.

“Three minutes,” he reciprocates your warmth as he nods you over to him.

“Did you let the pastry warm up?”

He nods.

“And the—”

“Taken care of,” he interrupts, slipping his hand into yours. He guides you to stand between his legs, eyes honed in on you above. Like he’s anticipating you, he answers the question you’re about to ask – once again proving just how well he knows you.

“Cooked it in ‘nother pan then added it on top,” he replies, speaking casually.

You stifle a laugh as you shake your head – it was really a simple fix.

With his gaze still focused on you, he begins playing with your left hand, his thumb mindlessly grazing your ring – the fiddling an absentminded act. As if he’s reminding him and yourself of your marital bond.

“Thank you.”

He hums, the sound far more gentle than his typical rough ones. It’s like he’s acknowledging your appreciation without taking the credit for it.

You extend your free hand, reaching for the side of his face, touch light as you brush over his cheek. Your thumb traces under his eye, soothing over the tired skin as you take a step closer – silently instructing him to lean against the back.

Logan does as wordlessly asked, his hips rolling underneath himself as he repositions, sitting in a manspread for you. He follows your movements as you sit on his lap, straddling one of his beefy thighs, your arms briefly hooking around his neck as you do so. He looks up at you from your very, very slight height advantage, eyes keen as he gazes into yours – staring like he’s trying to read you. You seem far lighter, far happier than the last time he saw you.

One hand rests on his cheek, the other grazing through the shorts of his dark hair – your hold gentle and dear as you press a string of soft, slow kisses across the stubble of his beard. One by one you get closer to his mouth, reaching his lips by the fourth.

His hands move up you from behind, skimming across the cheeks of your ass until they’re resting on your hips, the presence of his hold noticeable through the robes' thin fabric. He begins a pawing – irregular, needy squeezes into you like he’s silently communicating his thoughts and wants, scoping out whether you feel the same.

“How much time is left on the pie?” you quietly ask, speaking against his lips. Your question also an attempt to scope him out.

His grasp around you tightens, the slight force of his hold making your grind against his thigh. “Enough,” he prompts, murmuring into your mouth – lips not yet daring to connect.

He grinds you over your thigh, the motion slow and leisured as he holds you over him, working you up little by little. Gentle exasperated breaths from you caught between your closeness.

Upon hearing those sounds he loves ever so much, he pulls you into him, wrapping you into a brief, momentary hug before turning and laying you on the empty space of sofa beside him. He adjusts, situating above you but to your side, weight anchored beside you.

You look up at him sweetly, eyes flickering over his face in the same way he does you – specks of admiration and lust forming within each of your glances. You adjust under him, the act like you were trying to redirect him, guide him to above rather than to your side. Wanting to feel him graze up against you.

Logan brings his free hand to the side of your face, touch heavy and desperate as he thumbs over your cheek, holding you there as he presses a couple lengthy kisses to your lips – the contact anything but brisk. And with that hand around the swell of your cheek, he’s grazing it down your neck, trailing towards your chest.

He parts the loose, flimsy material of the robe, parting the fabric so he can slip a hand inside. Cupping one of your bare tits, he pulls it out from underneath – the full weight of your breast held within his warm, large hand. All of it on display for him to marvel at from above.

Angling his neck, he reaches for your tit, tongue swiping over the nipple just moments before his lips encompass it. The warmth of his mouth making your stomach tingle and fingers tighten in his hair, a jolt-like roll of your hips accompanying your desperate micro actions.

He holds himself there for a prolonged moment, keeping his lips to your nipple as his fingers begin a very slight pawing around the lower swell of it. The motion like he’s rolling you within his hold. A streak of residual wet being left behind as he pulls his head up from your chest.

You look down to him between your tits, his face just mere inches from yours. One of your breasts still within Logan’s manly hold, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your priorly sucked nipple — the act a soothing caress.

“Where’d you want me?” he asks, voice quiet between your close distance. “What’d you want?” he adds, just as softly as before, speaking like his one goal is to provide service. Service to you.

You make a faint, disgruntled whine upon his questioning, your mind whizzing with thoughts of him, ideas of him. The feel of his cock growing hard against your thigh only making your head race faster.

He shifts above you, lips reaching for yours as his hand around your tit travels down and between your thighs. The warmth of his touch is nothing like your warmth. He slips behind the opening of your robe, his fingers itching to your bare cunt ever so slowly, moving like he’s trying to help you decide. Though he’s doing the complete opposite — making it all the more challenging to answer with your mind whirring like it is.

He lines the crease of your cunt with the pad of his finger, brushing up and down with the lightest, faintest of touch — his lips resting against yours so he can swallow your jittery breaths. The strokes from him are almost mindless, brushing over you like he’s unaware of the effects he has on you. Still has on you after all this time.

“This?” he whispers against your mouth while his finger trails up the slit of your pussy, grazing over your folds.

You nod against him in response, the motion gentle and careful.

Logan teases over your cunt’s lips, collecting the slight build up of slick to smear and trace over you — spreading your arousal with his light touch. Working you up the and more. He pulls away to look over you, wanting to watch your face.

And when your eyes find his, that’s when he slips his middle finger into you. Holding onto your gaze as he presses inside with the utmost of ease.

It was what you needed, not what you wanted. And he could tell — the knitting of your brows and slightly unsatisfied crumple of your nose telling him before you even got a chance. And as you open your mouth to speak, mere milliseconds away from asking him to add another, he’s already lining his ring finger up with you, slipping it inside to accompany his middle.

The steady rocking of him further blurs any sense of coherency in your mind, the slow massage-like fucking of his fingers against your g-spot loosening you up nicely for him.

Your hand in his hair moves to the side of his face, grip desperate as you hold him there, muffling incoherent words of thanks — each murmur being overshadowed by those blissed noises he can never seem to get enough of. And while you keep his face to yours, your other hand is reaching for his arm between your thighs, fingers struggling to enwrap the meat of his upper wrist.

The pumping of his fingers into you is steady, each graze of him from the inside coming from a place of leisure, like the concept of haste is the furthest thing in his mind.

Though, he’s only human and there’s only so much he can take. Especially when you’re squirming under him like you are. The clicking of his fingers in your pussy only making it harder on him.

So, he slowly retracts from the wet warmth of your cunt, strings of your cum remaining connected to him, until they don’t. And as he pulls himself away from you, he licks over his knuckles, lapping over the milky white band you left around him.

Logan sits on his heels between your thighs as he unbuckles his jeans, his dry hand tasked with the job of unbuttoning. He gives the band a hasty tug down, the act nothing short of pure desperation.

He digs down the front to grab a hold on himself, grasp tight around his dick as he pulls it out over the top of his jeans. Cock hard and heavy within his hold. And as he gives himself a few preparatory strokes as he leans back over you in his prior hovered position — weight anchored on his free arm beside your head.

Guiding his cock to you between the opening of your robe, he pushes his head through your lips, collecting your arousal like it’s his personal, endless supply of lube. And only when he deems himself ready, he’s lining up with you, the tip of his dick pressing up against you for a brief moment before he’s easing in. Slowly but surely feeding himself into your cunt.

Upon the entry of his thick, heavy cock, your hands fly up to his face, holding either cheek to keep him close, lips skimming like they did just minutes before. Breath being caught in your throat, the air almost trapped as you feel him sink further and further inside, filling you entirely with himself.

He stills, keeping the whole, full length of his cock plugged inside, the motion of his hips non-existent as he gives you a quick second to get reacquainted with his size. He lowers his head, pressing his forehead against yours while he catches his own breath, the suction-like feel from your cunt having the same effect on him as he does you.

You squirm underneath him and your knees cling to his sides, keeping him glued to you.

“Move,” you whisper, the word like that of pure need. “Come on.”

His lips straighten against yours, a subtle smile forming. “Thought’ya liked the buildup,” he speaks quietly.

The hand that was around his dick, feeding into you, now rests on your face — carefully manhandling you and keeping you put. Logan nips at your lips quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to them as he rolls his hips into you, bumping his cock up.

“That’s what you wanted?” he teases, pressing a kiss just under your chin, making you tilt your head back. Hand moving with the motion of him, palm grazing to rest at the base of your throat. “It is, ain’t it?” he continues with his teasing, muttering between kisses along your jaw. “Hm?”

You hum, the noise sounding like a whine amongst your other blissed sounds. The concept of formulating coherent speech seeming to be far too difficult with the way he feels inside of you. All you can do is squeeze your eyes closed and nod, unable to do anything more than that – just lay beneath him, taking his tender, loving fucking.

Logan’s one true goal: to replace all prior feelings of pain with pleasure, wanting to make you forget about your upset from before. And with the way his dick is winding into you, he’s getting closer to that goal.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

including the moodboard bc she’s cute

#logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan smut #logan xmen #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett angst #logan howlett comfort

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seonghwaddict · 10 months ago

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the best of the best — jeong yunho

in which yunho didn’t expect his tiring shift to end with fucking the prettiest girl who’s ever walked into the clinic.

ripperdoc!jeong yunho x fem!reader. genre. smut. cyberpunk 2077 au. warnings. non-sexual use of daddy, explicit sexual content mdni, big dick!yunho but what else is new, fingering, BACKSHOTS, yunho is a tease, implied voice kink, creampie, he gets a little rough, nicknames (pretty, baby, princess). wc. 2.5k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this is really REALLY rushed because i was hit with inspiration and started writing without actually stopping so like sorry if it’s ass lol. her cyberware is based on this.

DEFINITIONS. ripperdoc; medical practitioners that can install cybernetic prostheses, called cyberware // eddies; game currency. feel free to ask for any clarifications.

listening to. cyberpunk, ateez (duh).

masterlist.

yunho sighed as he threw a bloodied towel into the sink, hands finally clean after having installed some new cyberware on a customer. his day was spent operating edgerunners, never quite seeming to catch a break. but what else could he do as the best ripperdoc in the district, let alone this shithole of a clinic? besides, he somewhat liked his job and the pay was good, his way with words getting customers to give him a few more eddies than they were obliged to.

but, alas, it was finally closing time and he’d no longer have to deal with people until the next day. or at least that’s what he hoped.

the familiar sound of the clinic’s door rang through the lobby, singaling someone had entered before he could lock up and making him sigh in exasperation. he pinched the bride of his nose, calling out over his shoulder from the backroom, knowing whoever it was would still be able to hear him. “we’re closed, come back tomorrow!”

“please, it’s an emergency!” the person replied and he froze.

a desperate, feminine plea. yunho can’t say he’s used to hearing that tone in the clinic. with furrowed brows, he emerged from the backroom to the lobby, right behind the counter as he laid his eyes on you. he was obviously much taller than you, looking up at him with round doe eyes and softly flushed cheeks. you wore a short black skirt and a loose sweater; not a sight he was used to here either, not that he was complaining as his eyes momentarily flickered to the sliver of cleavage exposed by the low neckline. maybe he could make an exception… no. he wanted nothing more than to go home, and a pretty little thing like you couldn’t just magically change his mood.

“my ‘ware has been acting up and i heard this is the best clinic in the area,” you walked closer to the counter, one of the steps looking particularly painful as you winced mid-sentence and stumbled before continuing, “please, sir, i promise i’ll pay you well.”

he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, letting a beat of silence wash over you before he finally answered with a sigh, “fine. go through that curtain and wait on the table. the metal one.”

you followed his hand to see him pointing at a curtain much like the ones separating beds in hospitals. with a quiet nod, you shuffled over as he ducked through the door he previously came out of. there was a small space behind the curtain and it reeked of hand sanitiser as you sat down, the table cold against your thighs. you smoothed your skirt down as he walked through the curtain and set down a tray of tools on a desk pushed against the wall.

“so, where’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his arms and giving you a once-over that had you feeling a little nervous.

“my back,” you muttered, looking down at your hands shyly as they played with the hem of your sweater, “i’ll have to take this off, if that’s okay.”

“oh, um…” he blinked before nodding and clearing his throat, moving to stand behind you. “yeah, it’s fine, go ahead.”

after a moment of hesitation, your body stretched lightly as you pulled the shirt over your head, his jaw nearly dropping at the sight. an intricately designed thin silver chrome spine merged with your skin and extending from between your shoulderblades down to just above your ass. instinctively, he reached out and brushed his fingers down the length of it, biting his bottom lip as he caught the way your back arched slightly.

“god, you’re a masterpiece.” he couldn’t help but sigh out as he let his fingertips explore the metal and the skin surrounding it. the clasp of your bra covered up just a little bit of it, but there was plenty more to see. after a moment, he caught a glimpse of a little spark in the metal on the small of your back, humming. “i see the problem… must be some sloppy wiring. i’ll take care of you, baby, just relax and stay still. you can do that for me, can’t you?”

“y-yeah.” you practically squeaked out, mentally slapping yourself for making it obvious how his words and touches made you feel.

he grinned but didn’t say anything, reaching for his tools and beginning to work. as he did, he deliberately brushed his fingertips or his wrist against your skin, against anywhere he could reach while fixing the wiring between the blades of the metal spine, just because he enjoyed messing wiht you. your waist seemed to get the most reactions out of you, unable to hold back your hitched breaths and your thighs pressing together. you were so sensitive and sweet, trying to hold back all your sounds as he riled you up with teasingly calculated touches.

“how’d you pay for this, anyway? a mod like this must’ve cost a fortune.”

“my daddy paid for it,” you explained with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting something like this for forever, so he let me get it done on my 18th birthday.”

he raised his eyebrows in surprise, nodding with a soft smile. “well, baby, you must be daddy’s pride and joy if he’s willing to drop so much on an implant like this that does nothing but make you look that much more appealing.”

“appealing?” you echoed his description of you, glancing back at him over your shoulder, “you think so?”

“of course, i’m not blind,” he roles his eyes playfully, licking eyes with you before going back to work, “in fact, i’m jealous i wasn’t the one to install all this ‘ware.”

it didn’t help that as he talked, his breath fanned over the back of your neck since he adjusted the table to raise you higher for him to work more comfortably. you learned each other’s names as he talked you through the procedure, trying to distract you from the occasional prods of a needle and sparks of the wires. he also liked to watch goosebumps form on your skin and the way your back arched just a little more as he responded to your words with low hums or muttered acknowledgments.

his hands feel a little colder than your skin as he barely runs them down your back, eyes trained on the gleaming metal. the tips of his fingers momentarily dipped below the back of your bra before slipping out again.

“does anything hurt?” he asked quietly, in a tone he noticed always made you stutter a little.

“n-no.” you shook your head before holding your breath, feeling his hands covers your waist and move down slowly, holding your hips lightly.

“good.” he hummed, nodding and removing his hands before stepping away from you completely.

the loss of his hands made your brows furrow as you looked at him, stepping into your line of vision with his back turned to you as he put away his tools.

“did you need something, princess?” he tilted his head at the sight of the pout you were trying so hard to hide, voice taking on a mocking tone.

your cheeks warmed and your brain short-circuited as he took a step toward the metal table he sat you on, standing a breath away from your knees and leaning down to your eye level. his hands braced on the table of either sides of your hips. if he wanted to, he could lean forward just a few inches and his lips would finally press against yours.

“you.” you blurted out without thinking, unable to process any thoughts in the flustered state he put you in.

“me, huh?” yunho chuckled, silky and low, fingertips brushing against the hem of your skirt as he pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at you. “a ripperdoc like me who works in heywood fixing cyberware? you need me, baby?”

flustered and a little speechless, you could only nod, lips parted as you left out soft breaths and looked up at him with eyes that begged him to kiss you. his hands left your skirt but found you again quickly, one on your waist and the other cupping the side of your face, half of his hand buried in your hair as he leaned down and finally pressed his lips against yours.

a whimper made it past you as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth, mingling with yours and exploring. you felt him smile against your lips as you let out that sound, his fingers in your hair holding you a little tighter as his hand on your waist slid down your thigh. you, however, didn’t feel that hand moving until his fingers pressed against your soaked panties, somehow easily finding your clit through the fabric and eliciting a whine as he pulled his lips away from you.

“so wet and i’ve barely done anything.” he whispered, kissing you again as he nudged the fabric aside to run two digits through your folds, quiet squelching sounds mixing with your little moans and whimpers as he circled your clit excruciatingly slowly.

not expecting his hands to feel so good, you couldn’t stop your hips from squirming, unable to kiss back very skilfully. he circled your clit with just the right speed and pressure, keeping you restless as your pussy clenched around nothing and click slowly dripped out to smear against the table and inner thighs.

yunho gave your swollen nub a sudden pinch and you winced, your hands on his biceps clenching as he pulled away from you with a click of his tongue. “didn’t i tell you to stay still, princess?”

you parted your lips to respond but could only moan languidly as his fingers easily pushed themselves into you, crooking and perfectly prodding against your sweet spot.

“do my fingers feel too good? is it too much for you, pretty?” he mocked with a fake pout, drawing his fingers out before pushing back in. you felt his hand drop from your hair to reach for something and with a push of a button, the table lowered itself smoothly.

moments later you were on your knees, facing away from him, hips pulled up and chest pushed down. some time while he moved you to this position, he managed to remove your skirt and bra. your nipples brushed against the cold surface of the table, shuddering at the feeling combined with one of his hands kneading your ass intently while the other ran down the length of your spine. as he got to the small of your back, he pushed down a little harder, making your back arch.

“hm, so pretty and perfect,” he hummed as his clothes and very much erected cock pressed against your flushed core. you let out a broken whine, burying your face into your forearm comfortably, his fingers sliding through your folds again and spreading them apart. he groaned at the sight, your wetness glistening in the neon lighting of the clinic, spread between your thighs messily, needy hole fluttering.

when he finally pressed his tip into you and eased his way in, your breath hitched followed by a moan of his name, hands clenching as you pushed back against him. he steadied your hips with his hands, eyes rolling back from your tightness as he bottomed out and stilled to revel in the feeling if you wrapped around him for a moment.

butterflies roared in your stomach as he leaned down and kissed the top of your spine sloppily, pulling out before rolling his hips against yours. you weren’t used to this angle, especially not with someone as huge as him, but your embarrassing amount of arousal made it easy for him to move. you cursed softly, a string of whines and moans falling from your swollen lips as his fingers dug into your hips and his teeth explored your upper back, licking and sucking and biting marks into your skin.

“f-fuck, you feel s-so good.” he moaned, forehead dropped between your shoulder blades for a moment before he straightened up again, pulling your hips against his harshly as he thrusted into you, teeth sunk in his bottom lip.

not long after that you felt a knot quickly tightening in your abdomen, feeling your breath knocked out of your lungs with each snap of his hips. one of his arms wrapped around your waist before venturing lowers so he could rub at your clit quickly, the knot drawing tighter and tighter until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“y-yunho- i’m g-gonna-“

“let go, baby. go on, be a good girl and cum for me,” he cut you off, voice gentle despite his rough movements, snapping the waistband of your panties against you, “you’ll cum for me, won’t you? i’m making you– fuck, i’m making you feel so good, right? p-please cum, baby, just let go.”

his words egged you on and soon enough you did as he said, shuddering and clenching and squealing as you came all over his cock, your juices drooling down his length as he continued pounding into you. his hand left your clit to grab your hips tightly, chasing his own high now that you finished. knowing what he needed, you clenched around him rhythmically, whimpering softly because you knew he liked the sound.

without warning, he spilled himself inside you, filling you up with his hot release. your combined panting and shivers filled the area as he emptied himself. once he collected himself, he pulled out slowly, shuddering as he did so before tucking your panties back into place before his cum could seep out of you. he flipped you around easily and found your lips.

you kissed each other lazily for a while, mind foggy after your orgasms. you gasped against his lips softly as you felt his fingers press right on the fabric covering your hole.

“if you can keep everything in while i close up, i’ll take you to my place for another round… or maybe a few more,” he kissed your cheek, reaching to the side and giving you your clothes before tucking himself back into his pants, “if you’re up for it, of course.”

you giggled, also kissing his cheek in return. “i’d like that, actually. you have a really good dick.”

“is that so? good thing a pretty girl like you only deserves the best.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #atzhouse #ateez x reader #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho reactions #jeong yunho smut #yunho imagines #yunho fluff #yunho angst #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez smut

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vunblr · 25 days ago

Text

Toy Soldier (part 2)

Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win, but the battle wages on for toy soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Smut. Dark content: Sexual Assault Wounds(Bucky) tried to make it as vague as possible but, there are mentioned. Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Canon-Typical Violence.

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

Word Count: 5.5.k.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“You were there, Hydra.”

Her nails dug into the counter, “…It’s not what you think.”

“What I think,” he said in a low, reflexive voice, “is that you fixed me. Over and over when-”

Her grip on the counter tightened, whitening her knuckles. She didn’t turn to face him. “Prolonged your misery, you mean,” she replied, sharp and bitterly.

The silence in response was almost worse than an argument. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back. When he finally spoke, his tone was softer, but no less piercing.

“That’s not what I meant.”

She let out a harsh laugh. “Isn’t it? For decades, every time they dragged you back in pieces, I was the one who made sure they could send you out again. If I hadn’t-” Her voice cracked, the words catching in her throat as the guilt she’d buried for years rising like bile in her throat.

“You didn’t have a choice,” he said, stepping closer.

“I could’ve let you die,” she snapped, finally spinning around to face him. Her eyes were burning, her fists clenched at her sides. “I should’ve let you die. It would’ve been kinder than sending you back to... to them.”

His expression didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, pain, perhaps, or understanding. “You think I don’t know that, didn’t think about that?”.

She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “What do you want from me, Bucky?”

He was silent for a long moment before answering. “I don’t want anything from you. I just...” He paused, exhaling slowly. “I remember you. And I know you didn’t want to be there any more than I did.”

She shook her head, her throat tight. “That doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” he agreed. “But it means you’re not the one I blame.”

She froze, the knife slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the floor. The sound echoed in the small kitchen, but she barely heard it. Never -not once- had it occurred to her that he wouldn’t resent her. If their positions had been reversed, she would have.

“You don’t?” she asked, with a trembling voice.

He took another step closer. “You apologized. Over and over. You cried. You...” His voice caught for a moment before he continued. “You comforted me when they weren’t looking, even if I was just a dull shell sprawled on a table. You talked.”

Her knees buckled slightly, and she braced herself against the counter, her other hand flying to her mouth as the tears started to fall. She tried to hold them back, but it was useless.

“You talked,” he repeated, softer this time, his voice thick with something she couldn’t name. “And it mattered. Even if I couldn’t respond, even if it seemed like I wasn’t there... I heard you.”

She sobbed behind her hand, the weight of years of guilt and anguish crashing down on her all at once. The memories of those moments -whispered apologies, fleeting touches meant to comfort, the tears she’d tried to hide- rose like a tidal wave. She had done everything she could, and it had never felt like enough.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her words muffled. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize anymore,” he reassured her, firmly, but gentle.

She shook her head, unable to stop the tears streaming down her face. “I thought… I thought you’d hate me.”

“I don’t,” He stepped closer until there was barely any space between them. “I never did.”

Her shoulders shook as she let out another sob, her hand still pressed to her mouth. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to process the weight of his forgiveness.

For the first time in years, she allowed herself to fully cry, not holding back the storm that had been brewing inside her for so long. And as she stood there, crumbling in the small kitchen, she felt the faintest touch of his hand on her shoulder.

She looked up, and her tear-streaked face met his gaze. His eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen them, shimmering with unshed tears he didn’t try to hide.

“Fuck,” she muttered, her voice trembling. She wiped at her face with a shaky hand, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Sorry for making it about me, when you got the worst-”

Before she could finish, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him in a firm, grounding hug.

“Stop apologizing, doll,” he interrupted, his voice was low and rough, filled with insistence. “Just stop.”

She froze in his arms, her breath hitching as the weight of his words and his presence settled over her. Slowly, her hands came up to grip the back of his henley, curling her fingers tightly into the fabric.

“I didn’t know it mattered,” she whispered against his chest, her voice cracking. “I didn’t think anything I did matter if I kept completing the cycle fixing their toy soldier.”

His hand rested lightly on the back of her head, his other arm tightening around her as if to shield her from the weight of it all. “It mattered,” he said firmly. “You there mattered.”

She clung to him, her whole body trembling as years of guilt and fear poured out of her. He didn’t let go, didn’t say another word, just held her until the storm passed.

----

By the time Sam returned, the pot was bubbling gently on the stove, and Bucky was quietly setting up the table, like the most normal thing in the world. He quirked a brow at the unexpected domestic scene but chose not to comment, unwilling to disturb the fragile equilibrium hanging in the air.

“Smells good in here,” he said instead, dropping his jacket onto the back of a chair and sniffing the air. Then turn to her. “See? I knew you’d come through.”

She managed a faint smile as she ladled the stew into bowls, trying to shake off the lingering emotion clinging to her like a second skin. Bucky remained silent, carefully placing utensils in neat lines beside each plate, his usual brooding energy somehow... softer.

As they sat down and began eating the food, Sam’s eyes lit up at the sight of the perfectly prepared meal. “Damn, this is next level. You sure you’re not secretly an old lady in disguise? My mom and Titi used to season like this-”

The words hit her like a slap, and the lump in her throat turned literal before she could stop it. She choked on the bite of a potato, coughing violently as her body reacted to both the physical mishap and the emotional jolt.

Sam’s grin dropped instantly as he jumped up, alarmed. “Whoa, hey! You good?”

Her eyes watered as she waved a hand, her coughs harsh and uncontrollable. She fumbled for her glass of water, but Bucky was already at her side before she could grab it.

“Relax,” he said calmly, his metal hand pressing gently between her shoulder blades while his other grabbed the glass. “Breathe. Small sips.”

She obeyed, taking slow gulps of water as the coughing subsided. Her face burned, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the physical strain or the comment still ringing in her ears.

“Damn,” Sam muttered, sitting back down with a relieved sigh. “You trying to scare the hell out of me over a compliment?”

She forced a shaky laugh. “Sorry. Guess it went down wrong.”

Sam grinned again, trying to lighten the mood. “I mean, I know my compliments are overwhelming, but choking on a tender potato? That’s next-level.”

She managed another weak chuckle, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d been twenty-five years old in 1962 when Hydra abducted her and stole her life away. If he only knew, the reason why her cooking felt like something out of another time wasn’t just a quirky personality trait, but a way of doing things in her time…

“Careful next time,” Bucky’s voice cut her internal rambling, letting his hand linger briefly on her back before he returned to his seat.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” Sam said with a grin, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath her calm facade. “I’m eating like it’s Sunday dinner at my momma’s place.”

She smiled faintly, stirring her stew with her spoon. “Maybe I’m just an old soul,” she said, carefully measuring the words.

Across the table, Bucky’s sharp gaze seemed to catch every nuance of her reaction. She didn’t look at him, but she could feel his understanding, a weight that lingered long after the moment ended.

----- As they cleared the table, the conversation shifted to the mission. “So, the plan’s straightforward,” Sam said, stacking plates by the sink. “We hit the warehouse. You…” he nodded toward her, “go to the bar, try to blend in, and see what you can get out of one of those drunken idiots. Maybe someone slips up about the serum.”

She nodded, drying her hands with a dish towel. “I’ll keep my ears open. A place like that? Someone’s bound to get loose-lipped after a few drinks.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced. He leaned against the counter, crossed his arms, and fixed his sharp blue eyes on her. “Are you sure you’ll be alright there?”

She quirked a brow, tossing the towel aside. “It’s not the first time I’ve done this,” she said dryly.

“You can’t heal yourself,” he said bluntly, his voice lower now as if trying to keep it between them. “What if-”

“What?” Sam’s voice cut in, sharp with surprise. His gaze darted between the two of them. “Heal yourself? What’s he talking about?”

She froze, caught off guard by Bucky’s slip. Her mouth opened, but no words came. After a beat, she sighed and looked at Sam sheepishly. “I... yeah,” she admitted. “I can’t heal myself. That’s why the higher-ups usually want me in safehouses or doing recon in relatively low-risk places. It’s not exactly something they let me disclose freely.”

Sam blinked, clearly trying to process the information. “And you’re just now telling me this?”

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” she said quickly. “It wasn’t my call. It’s classified. I didn’t want to keep it from you, but... orders are orders.”

Sam’s frown deepened, and his gaze flickered to Bucky, narrowing slightly. “And how do you know?”

Bucky froze for a beat. He glanced at her, then back at Sam, clearly caught off guard. “I... just assumed,” he said carefully. “If she’s only doing recon, makes sense she wouldn’t be sent anywhere dangerous if she couldn’t heal herself.”

Sam raised a skeptical brow, crossing his arms. “Assumed, huh?”

She stepped in quickly, “It’s not that complicated, Sam. It’s just... safer for everyone if I’m not put in situations where I’d be a liability. That’s why they don’t send me into direct combat. Bucky probably figured it out because, you know, it’s kind of obvious when someone isn’t charging into the middle of fights, also, you’ve seen my pathetic attempts at hand-to-hand combat.”

Sam frowned, still not entirely convinced, but he sighed, shaking his head. “Alright. But next time, this kind of thing? I’d appreciate a heads-up.”

“I understand,” she said quietly.

Sam exhaled heavily and turned toward the gear he’d set on the table. “Like I said, no risks. Get in, listen, and get out.”

She nodded, glancing at Bucky, who was still standing stiffly by the counter. His face was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary before he turned away.

-----

She stepped out of the bedroom wearing a black dress with a low neckline drawing attention to her bosom. It was elegant but provocative, the kind of dress that would make her blend into the bar’s crowd effortlessly, or stand out, depending on who was looking.

Bucky, seated on the couch inspecting his gear, glanced up as she entered the room. His eyes flickered over her for the briefest moment before darting back to the weapon in his hands, subtly clenching his jaw.

She didn’t notice. She was too busy fumbling with her disposable cellphone, the small device looking awkward and out of place in her hands. “Damn things,” she muttered, sweeping her fingers over the screen in frustration. “They’re always different, changing icons and options every time. I just want to be able to call someone, is that too much to ask?”

Sam looked up from packing his bag and snorted. “You sound like my Titi trying to figure out a smartphone for the first time.”

She shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. “I’m not that bad. These things are just... unnecessarily complicated.”

Sam crossed the room, taking the phone from her hands with a grin. “Let me guess, you miss flip phones? Or, wait, rotary phones?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“Here,” Sam said, handing the phone back after a few quick swipes. “It’s ready. Just hit the green button if you need to call.”

She rolled her eyes, slipping the phone into her small clutch. “Thanks, genius. I’ll be sure to call if I get stuck in a tech crisis mid-mission.”

Sam winked. “Appreciate that. Wouldn’t want to miss the entertainment.”

From the corner of the room, Bucky’s voice cut through their banter, low and direct. “You sure you’ll be okay in there?”

She turned to him, raising a brow. “It’s not the first time I’ve done this.”

His gaze lingered on her, sharp and assessing. “So? That doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she said evenly, grabbing a flimsy shawl. “You two just focus on your part, and I’ll handle mine.”

Bucky couldn’t shake the nagging pull in his chest that demanded him to protect her. He knew it wasn’t rational, but the feeling refused to be ignored.

When he was nothing but a shell of a man, a puppet incapable of action or defiance, he’d been forced to sit there, motionless, every time a handler punished her. For not fixing him fast enough. For suggesting they let him rest. For surreptitiously passing him a morsel of bread so the hunger gnawing at his stomach from the tissue’s abnormal regeneration wouldn’t make him gag, which would result in a beating for displaying disgusting behaviors. Every time, he’d been powerless, silent in the passenger’s seat of his own mind.

Every slap, every strike with the iron rod, every vicious yank at her hair, every disgusting lecherous touch, he had watched it all through a fog of helpless rage. He’d remained outwardly impassive, Hydra’s loyal pet, incapable of defying orders, no matter how much the feelings burned behind his frozen stare.

But now, being his own man, the thought of her walking into danger felt unbearable. It was wrong. It was twisted. He had the primal and sharp impulse to guard her, to tear apart anyone who dared lay a hand on her again.

It unsettled him, the realization that some part of Soldat’s instincts lingered, ingrained in the marrow of his mind. Protect the one who matters. Eliminate the threats. It was as if those reflexes had twisted themselves into something more human, more his.

He glanced at her as she adjusted the flimsy shawl around her shoulders in an almost dismissive manner. “Just be careful,” he said gruffly.

Her gaze softened briefly. “I will, Bucky. I promise.”

It wasn’t enough to soothe him, not entirely, but he nodded, forcing himself to step back.

Sam clapped his hands together, trying to pump up the mood. “Alright, team, let’s move. The sooner we split up, the sooner we shut this thing down.”

As they all filed out, Bucky lingered for a moment, trailing his eyes after her retreating figure.

----

She stepped out of the cab, and the cold night air nipped at her skin as she adjusted the loose folds of her dress. The bar stood like a beacon of bad decisions, its flickering neon sign buzzing faintly, casting a sickly green glow over the cracked pavement.

Taking a breath, she slipped her disposable phone into her clutch and smoothed her shawl over her shoulders. She strode toward the entrance, each click of her heels a reminder to stay in character.

Inside, the air was heavy with smoke, cheap cologne, and the faint tang of spilled liquor. The sticky floor clung to the soles of her shoes with every step, and she resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the dim lighting, shadowed corners, and the usual mix of dubious characters.

Her gaze landed on a heavyset man sitting near the bar, a whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. His tailored suit and gold watch were a sharp contrast to the dingy surroundings. Target acquired.

She approached slowly, sliding onto a stool a few seats away, ordering a drink, letting her body language convey disinterest as she let her gaze wander.

Her clutch buzzed softly. Pulling out her phone with practiced subtlety, she glanced at the screen.

Warehouse was empty. It’s a trap. Be careful.

She swallowed hard, forcing her expression to remain neutral as she slipped the phone back into her clutch.. Taking a slow sip of her drink, she steadied herself. She had to play this right. Calm, poised, unshaken.

Sliding one seat closer to her mark, she leaned slightly on the bar, letting her voice carry just enough to catch his attention. “Looks like you’re having a better night than most.”

The man glanced at her, his eyes narrowing briefly before a slow grin spread across his face. “Better now,” he rumbled, staring at her cleavage without concealment.

She smiled faintly, twirling the glass in her hand as though she didn’t notice his leer. “Mind if I join you? It’s been one of those days.”

He chuckled, nodding toward the stool beside him. “Sure, sweetheart. Misery loves company, right?”

She slipped onto the seat, careful to keep her posture inviting but not overt. “Misery, huh? What’s weighing on you big guy?”

He took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled between them. “Work. Always work.”

“Rough day at the office?” she asked lightly, tilting her head in mock curiosity.

The man smirked but suddenly paused, his gaze flicking past her shoulder. His posture stiffened. “Friend of yours?”

Slowly, she turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the doorway.

Bucky.

He stood there, tall and unmoving, his broad shoulders casting a shadow against the dim light. His expression was hard, unrelenting, his blue eyes fixed on them like a predator zeroing in on prey. He wasn’t even trying to blend in, his murderous gaze did not attempt subtlety.

“I don’t know the creep,” she said quickly, turning back with a faint laugh. Her hand tightened around the stem of her glass. “Why?”

The man didn’t answer. His hand drifted toward the waistband of his pants, where the outline of a gun was visible. Her pulse spiked, but before she could move, Bucky was already in motion.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed the room, gripping the man’s wrist and slamming it against the bar with a sickening crack. The gun clattered to the floor, and chaos erupted.

Chairs toppled, patrons shouted, and in the confusion, she was shoved back. She stumbled but recovered quickly, grabbing the discarded gun as Bucky took on the man’s lackeys with brutal precision.

“Go!” Bucky barked, his voice cutting through the commotion as he stepped in front of her, shielding her from a bottle hurled across the room.

“I can handle mys-”

Before she could finish, Bucky moved like a bolt of lightning. His vibranium hand shot out, gripping the collar of the armed bartender who had drawn on them. With one swift motion, he slammed the towering man into the wall, leaving him crumpled and unconscious on the floor.

Before she could fully process the scene, he turned to her, gripping her arm firm enough to leave no room for argument, and hauled her toward the bar counter.

“Stay down,” he growled, low and commanding, before shoving her behind it with a force that wasn’t meant to hurt but demanded compliance.

She stumbled, and her hands and knees landed on the sticky floor. A sharp tug at her dress made her wince, probably it had snagged on the metal edge of a dispenser.

“Are you serious?!” she hissed, her face burning as she scrambled trying to get her hands out of the disgusting floor.

Bucky didn’t respond. His attention had already snapped back to the chaos erupting in the room, his body was a blur of calculated precision and brute force. She peeked over the edge of the counter, watching as he disarmed one thug after another, his vibranium arm glinting under the bar’s dim lights as it connected with the offenders, while his human hand delivered equally punishing blows. Each move was efficient and terrifyingly effective.

A chair shattered against his back, but he didn’t even flinch, spinning to deliver a devastating blow to the attacker’s ribs. She winced as the man hit the ground with a groan.

Her irritation at being sidelined simmered beneath the surface, but she couldn’t deny the effectiveness of his approach. The bar was nearly empty now, the smarter patrons having fled while Bucky ruthlessly dismantled the remaining threats.

As the last thug hit the ground, Bucky turned toward her, his chest rising and falling as his gaze locked onto her. “Clear,” he said gruffly, walking toward the counter and extending a hand to help her up.

She hesitated for a split second before accepting, letting her smaller hand to be engulfed in his. As he pulled her to her feet, she muttered, “You didn’t have to throw me like a sack of potatoes.” brushing herself off with a pout.

“You were in the line of fire,” he shot back with a clipped tone.

“I was handling-” she started, but her words caught in her throat as she shifted on her feet and felt an unexpected chill against her skin.

Her hand flew to her rear, patting frantically. Her stomach sank when her fingers met air where there should have been fabric. “Oh, great,” she muttered, her voice tinged with rising embarrassment.

Bucky’s brows knit together as his eyes followed her movements, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride,” she grumbled, “and my wallet, thank you very much. I’m still paying for this dress.”

Ignoring his faint smirk, she glanced around, desperately searching for something to cover herself. Her hands tugged at the torn fabric, but it was no use.

Bucky tilted his head as if reading her mind. “You can worry about it later. Right now, we need to move before backup shows.”

“Oh, because a woman walking down the street with her thong showing through a hole in her dress is very inconspicuous,” she shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word.

His eyes flicked down at the mention of the word thong. Briefly, instinctively. A barely perceptible shift in his expression. She caught it anyway, heat blooming in her cheeks.

“Really?” she snapped, her voice low and mortified. “If you’re done looking, maybe you could grab that guy’s jacket?” She jabbed a finger at the unconscious bartender slumped against the wall.

Bucky blinked, muttering something under his breath before stalking over. He yanked the jacket free and returned with an unreadable expression as he handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, quickly tying it around her waist.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly, already heading for the door.

They slipped out into the cold night, weaving through narrow streets. The uneven cobblestones beneath her heels made each step precarious, and she cursed under her breath about her “stupid dress” and “even stupider shoes.”

When her heel caught on a loose stone, she stumbled. Before she could hit the ground, his hands were supporting her.

Her palms instinctively pressed against his chest for balance, and his body heat contrasted deeply against the chill of the night. “Careful,” he muttered, softer this time, though no less gruff.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, ready to pull away when she registered something sticky and warm under her palm that shouldn’t be there. She froze, glancing down at her hand. Her stomach twisted as she saw it smeared with blood.

“What-” she began.

“It’s nothing,” he cut her off, already stepping forward. “Keep walking.”

Her feet stayed rooted in place, and she narrowed her eyes as she watched him stride ahead as though nothing had happened. Frustration and concern bubbled inside her until she clenched her jaw and grabbed his metal hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Bucky, stop,” she said firmly.

He glanced back at her, with a hard expression. “We don’t have time for this. We need to keep moving.”

She stepped closer, refusing to let go of his hand. “You’re not the Soldat anymore,” she said firmly, locking her eyes on his. “There’s not an only comply rule between us. You don’t get to brush this off like it doesn’t matter.”

His jaw worked as his gaze flickered away from hers. “I said it’s nothing,” he muttered.

She sighed. “After so many years rearranging your body parts like some kind of twisted puzzle... I just can’t.”

His brows knit. Can’t what?”

“I can’t ignore it,” she said firmly, tightening her hand around his. “I know you probably can handle it. Whatever you’ve got under there, I know it’s not enough to take you down. I’ve seen what you can survive -what you can handle- before you collapse.”

His expression hardened, but he didn’t pull his hand away from hers.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s alright,” she continued. “Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should.”

For a moment, the only sound between them was the distant hum of street noise and the faint rustle of leaves in the alley.

“We are exposed here,” he muttered, almost defensive, darting his eyes to their surroundings.

“Don’t,” she said, cutting him off sharply. Her tone made him pause. “Don’t brush it off like it doesn’t matter. Like you don’t matter.”

His gaze snapped back to her, startled at the firmness in her tone. It looked as if he might argue for a second, but the fight in his eyes faded.

“Let’s at least get to the bike,” he finally conceded.

She nodded reluctantly, releasing his hand. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

They continued walking, and when they reached the motorcycle, she stepped in front of him before he could mount it, crossing her arms with a resolute expression.

“Now,” she said, leaving no room for argument. “Sit down. Let me see it.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he sat on the bike. She bent forward a little, quirking a brow at him expectantly, resting her hands on her hips. The silent command was clear: Lift your shirt.

He sighed, reluctant but resigned, and rolled up his black shirt to reveal three stab wounds on his side. Blood trickled sluggishly from each one, staining his skin and the waistband of his pants.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

“As I said before, it’s nothing,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words this time.

“And I told you it’s not nothing,” she replied, her voice softening as she knelt beside him. “Because you’re not nothing.”

He stilled at her words, dropping his gaze to her hands as she reached out. Firm but careful, she pressed her palm gently against the first wound and closed her eyes. As she concentrated, a faint warmth spread beneath her hand, infusing her healing powers into his torn flesh.

The room -or rather, the alley- seemed to fall silent, the chaos of their escape melting away as her power worked its way through his body. He felt the pain ebb, the searing burn of the wound cooling into a dull ache before disappearing entirely.

Her brow furrowed as she moved to the second wound, her free hand steadying herself on his knee. “You need to stop doing this to yourself,” she murmured, her tone more an observation than a reprimand.

“Occupational hazard,” he said quietly, though his voice lacked its usual sarcasm.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his briefly. “Doesn’t mean it’s okay.” The soft warmth spread as the torn flesh knitted itself back together under her touch. She hesitated for a moment, furrowing her brow in thought.

“It’s different... healing you,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Bucky’s expression became curious. “Different how?”

She shifted her palm against the wound. “It’s the serum. It’s like... it siphons my powers like it’s trying to cope with the faster regeneration.”

His brows knitted together. “Drains you? What, like it takes more out of you than it normally should?”

She nodded. “I have to concentrate a lot more when it’s you. It’s not like with normal people, your body doesn’t just accept the healing. It’s like it demands more to work properly.”

Bucky’s expression darkened. “So every time they threw me half-dead on the table for you to fix me…”

Her hands stilled for a moment against his skin, the glow flickering faintly before she steadied herself and continued. “It drained me, yeah,” she admitted. “More than I ever let them see.”

Bucky’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Did it hurt? Does it... now?”

Her movements slowed, and she looked up at him with a gentleness that made his chest tighten. “No, honey,” she said softly, the endearment slipping out like second nature. “It doesn’t hurt. I just get more tired. That’s all.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line as she moved her hand to the final wound. He watched her intently, unable to ignore the tenderness in her expression or the way her touch seemed to carry a weight beyond physical care.

“This one’s deep,” she murmured, frowning slightly. “Let me concentrate.”

“Alright,” he said gruffly.

She closed her eyes, as the warmth of her powers flowed into his skin. He exhaled slowly, and his body instinctively relaxed again under her touch. The pain ebbed away, but as it did, something else surfaced. A strange, aching melancholy that he hadn’t expected.

It was twisted, so twisted, and he knew it. But decades as the Soldat, the asset with the fried brain, conditioned him to associate her hands with the only semblance of comfort he’d ever known. Her powers healed the damage done to his body, but it was more than that. It was the way her fingers lingered just long enough to soothe, the way she whispered soft reassurances when no one else was listening. She had tried to mend him in ways that had nothing to do with torn flesh or broken bones, and in the endless cycle of missions, pain, and cryo, her care had been the closest thing to kindness he could grasp in his empty existence.

And now, even with his own mind, that feeling lingered, rooted somewhere.

“Bucky?” Her voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. She was watching him, brows knitted in concern. “You okay?”

He blinked, and his throat tightened as he struggled to find the words. “Yeah. I’m fine,” he finally said, though his voice sounded rougher, even to him.

She tilted her head, scanning his features. Clearly, she didn’t believe him but chose not to push. Instead, she focused on healing the wound, letting her hand linger after the glow faded, as if reluctant to break the connection.

“There,” she said softly, sitting back on her heels. “Good as new.”

He nodded, rolling his shirt down and avoiding her gaze. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said, standing and brushing off her hands. “Just... don’t make a habit of getting stabbed, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a faint smirk, though it quickly faded as he noticed the exhaustion etched into her face.

As she climbed onto the bike behind him, she hesitated, hovering her hands uncertainly over his waist. “Hey,” she murmured. “Do you mind if I lean against your back while you drive?” She paused, almost shyly. “This whole ordeal... it made me a little sleepy.”

The pang of guilt hit him like a slap. Hydra had drained her for years, forced her to heal him over and over without care for the toll it took on her. They had treated her as nothing more than a tool to keep their weapon functioning.

And now, here they were again. Different circumstances, same pattern.

He tightened his grip on the handlebars, glancing back over his shoulder. “Go ahead,” he replied, forcing a lighter tone. “I’m not afraid of losing my modesty.”

Her lips quirked in a faint, grateful smile, that made his chest ache in a way he didn’t fully understand. She shifted closer, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist as she rested her head against his broad back. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“Don’t mention it,” he said quietly, kicking the bike into gear.

As he sped toward the safehouse, he drove more carefully than usual, steering away from every bump and sharp turn, mindful of the precious weight against his back.

Next Chapter

ReaderTag: @sunshinedayz19 @winterstar1917

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky hurt/comfort #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader

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webseotoolz · 2 years ago

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Word Counter tool assists to estimate the words & characters of any content with Webseotoolz Visit: https://webseotoolz.com/word-counter

#webseotoolz #webseotools #seo tools #web seo tools #free seo tools #free tools #online seo tools #online tools #seo toolz #word counter #word counter tool #free word counter #count words

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burrowdarling · 1 month ago

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He Really Knows Me

Summary: It’s your first time meeting Joe’s siblings. With your nerves evident, Joe gives you something to calm them. I also just had to listen to Call It What You Want - Taylor Swift

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: A bit of talk about sex, otherwise just some fluffy boyfriend Joey

Note: Hi everyone! I hope you all enjoy this request from this anon, I thought the idea was absolutely adorable. I'm excited to have some more frequent content out for you all. As always, my ask box and messages are always open to requests or to chat!

Word Count: 1.3k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

To say you were nervous was an understatement - tonight would be the night that you were meeting Joe’s brothers along with their wives for the first time. The two of you have been dating for a few months now, deciding it was time to take things a step further. You knew how important family was to Joe and were excited at the opportunity to meet those close to him. You’d heard loads about them already, excited for the chance to get to know them. To keep things casual and low pressure for you, Joe decided to invite everyone over for dinner at his place. Joe knew you felt safe there, being able to step away for a breather with ease if needed.

You’d like to think you were a fairly confident person, believing that was part of the reason you were with Joe in the first place. The one thing that could knock you off kilter was a lack of control. You were serious about Joe, wanting to make a good first impression with his family and hoping that they would like you.

Joe had offered for you to come get ready at his place while he got a workout in at the gym, knowing you couldn’t say no to getting ready in his bathroom. It was something you were jealous of, wishing you had this type of lighting back at your place. Being in his space offered you a sense of relief, feeling like . You had music playing off your phone speaker, your makeup products were strewn out across the counter, and your hair tools at the ready. You heard the faint sound of shuffling downstairs, signalling Joe had finished his workout. You paid no mind to it, focusing on perfecting your look.

You were in your own little world, dancing off your nerves when you just about jumped out of your skin.

“Jesus Joe, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” you said with a hand pressed to your chest trying to catch your breath. He only chuckled at you, slightly shaking his head at your comment.

Your temper simmered once you took in his appearance. He was leaned against the door frame, hair tousled with sweat as his sleeveless shirt hung off of his torso. The holes for the sleeves were ripped so low, you could see a preview of his abs creating a spark inside you to have your hands on him. His cloth shorts were hung low on his hip and his whole demeanor had you wanting to drop to your knees before him.

“Not my intention, sweetheart, though I was enjoying your little show. It looks like I was giving you one right back based on the drool on your chin” Joe said with a smirk. You reached for your chin, falling for his joke which only made him laugh harder, causing you to give him a glare.

“You can’t expect me not to look when you come up here like that” you said as you gestured to him at a loss for any further words.

“Look as much as you like, but I’d much rather your touch. I just came to wash up before dinner, baby. I’ll take my distraction elsewhere, don’t worry your pretty head” he said moving off the door to drop a kiss to your head. He walked to the shower, turning the handle and starting to strip. It took everything in you not to watch him from the mirror and keep your focus on getting ready. You watched his silhouette through the steamy glass door, admiring his profile. You’d have time to have him later, it would help to ease your mind.

“Do you think they’re gonna like me?” you asked out of nowhere. Your voice wavered more than you expected, needing to speak up over the shower.

“They’re gonna love you because I do, there’s nothing to stress about I promise,” Joe said as his cutt of the shower. He stepped out and wrapped a towel low on his waist, walking over to meet you. “You did great with my parents, this will be a cakewalk in comparison. You’re so sweet, amazing, and funny, I’m going to have to hope they don’t like you more than me”.

He leaned down, ghosting his wet forehead above yours causing you to giggle when droplets from his hair fell to your nose and cheeks.

“I can’t get my face wet, I just finished my makeup” you said as you gently pushed him away, letting your hands linger on his wet chest.

“You’re right, I’d much rather get something else wet instead” he spoke as he turned out of the bathroom, bracing for your reaction preemptively.

“JOSEPH! Get your mind out of the gutter” you yelled out as his laughter carried into the bathroom from his bedroom.

Once you felt that your look was perfected, you took one last look in the bathroom mirror before making your way into the bedroom. You expected Joe to be downstairs, but were surprised to see him sitting on the edge of his bed with a small gift wrapped box in his hands.

“What’s that for?” you questioned, pointing to the gift in his hands.

“It’s for you, I was gonna wait to give it to you, but this seems as good a time as any” Joe said as he patted the spot next to him.

You sat down, joining him as you felt a fresh wave of nerves course through you. Joe placed the small box in your hands as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into him. His smell offered a sense of comfort, remembering there was nothing to be worried about, this was your Joey.

You pulled the bow loose and slipped it from the box, you unwrapped the small bit of paper and removed the top from the box. A small gasp came from your lips as you took in the small piece of jewelry in front of you. It was small ‘J’ strung on a delicate gold chain, bringing a well of tears to your eyes.

You turned to face Joe, his eyes already on you as he reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek before it caused a streak in your makeup. Your mind was reeling, overcome with an influx of emotions and adoration for the man beside you. He always knew exactly what to do and when, having a knack for his small gestures having a big impact on you.

“Joey, I absolutely love it. Will you put it on me?” you asked, getting a soft nod in response as he moved his finger in a circular motion for you to turn away from him.

He stepped behind you, placing the delicate chain across the top of your chest as he brought the two ends together to clasp them. He softly released the ends, letting it fall naturally onto your chest. The dainty ‘J’ stood out against your skin, his initial looking nice around your neck. You looked up and turned your head to meet his gaze over your shoulder, the look of pure love in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I’m not gonna lie, I got the idea from that taylor song you listen to all the time. I knew you were feeling some nerves about tonight so I wanted to give you something as a way to let you know I’m always there. Thank you for all that you do for me, you’re truly amazing and I have no idea what I’d do without you.”

“I swear you always know the right things to say and do, you never cease to surprise me” you said with a smile from ear to ear.

You placed your hands to his cheeks as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss, feeling things began to heat up rather quickly. You felt him pull back as he rested his forehead against your properly.

“Now as much as I’d like to have you with this new addition, it’ll have to be later. We got dinner to eat and you have people who want to meet you.”

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #nfl #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fan fic #joeyb #girlfriend reader #Joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joey burrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow smut #burrowdarling requests #asks open #send anons

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jaggedamethyst · 14 days ago

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boy savor ⏳✨

ekko (arcane) x f!reader

content: ekko using time...to his advantage

18+ minors dni, smut, porn w/slight plot, edging, soft, (just trust me ik they sound different lmao), oral (f!receiving), complicated/ unlabeled relationship, angst, mentions of death, not proofread

notes: i am a timebomb truther but this is set after the whole ordeal so literally months if not a year or more after the finale...and no the title isn't spelled wrong just read it.

main master list

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You and Ekko found each other after everything. He’d lost his friend—and something more—when Jinx disappeared. Ekko had remained steadfast; she wasn’t dead, couldn’t be. You would nod, affirming him. You understood what others might deem delusion—and empathized with the desire to have someone be alive.

For you, it was your dad. Like many others you were sent away—forced to join the herds of people who piled up to leave town. This came, of course, in spite of what you wanted. If it was up to you, you’d have stayed. You would’ve died alongside your father. Instead, you were left to wonder if he even actually was gone. With a body never actually being found it was hard to not think other wise.

The relationship between you and Ekko went unlabeled and remains that way. You both could agree, though, that in the midst of the pain the presence of each other filled a void that would persist for years. Deep down you knew that if Jinx did ever show up he would leave without a second thought. But the gentleness he held with you was enough to make the thought a throwaway.

In a single word, you would quickly describe Ekko as tender. When you were together the just barely there touches and faint grasps made you feel light—as if you could escape him at any moment. Freeing yourself was the last thing on your mind, though. You’d stay with him, like this, in any timeline…forever.

“Can I try something?” Ekko spoke between breaths, lips kissing on the inner skin of your thighs. He’d paused his devouring of you to glance up, motioning next to him.

“Uh huh,” you were close. The question hadn’t made a difference to you. You didn’t bother to look in the direction he waved. Whatever he did, whatever he intended to try—you would still unravel in a few seconds. If there was no other proof, the heat emanating off of you would be enough.

A second later, the sound of a clattering filled the room. The fire in you tamed a bit and Ekko had his lips wrapped around your clit again. Just as he had before speaking up. You panted, feeling his breath fanning over you. He continued to move his entire mouth into you, sucking and moving up and down with an urgency that had your legs twisting erratically.

Ekko slipped in two fingers, then, pulsing them in and out of you at a steady tempo that made you whine. The sound was melodic for him—it made him want to do this a thousand more times, and he would.

“Can I try something?”

Without thinking, you replied, “Uh huh.”

The phrase felt sticky on your tongue, as if it had left a residue lingering there. You blinked, looking beside you as Ekko fumbled for the counter. He moved up your body, kissing over your chest as he pulled on a string.

In an incomprehensible moment of time, his lips found you again. Ekko moved against you and you writhed as a result. He felt your body lift and looked up through his lashes to examine you. A smirk found the space between you, a sheen over the bottom half of his face.

“What?” He asked as he moved a finger to push your clit up and down. The steady and slow pressure was one you loved—and it almost always had you fumbling for him like you were now. The heat found you, again, and gave you pause. A hand found the top of his head grasping at his hair for relief, the fleeting feeling of déjà vu causing you to yank his head up.

“Ekko-“

“You said I could try something…”

Creating a tool to wield time in the palm of his hand was single handedly the pinnacle of Ekko’s existence and nothing else came close to it. Nothing except his ability to use it to his advantage. He loved the sensation of you pulsing against him, the inadvertent response to his body on yours. He could bask in the sound of your quickened breaths, survive off of the feeling of your fingers clawing at him. Every movement that even resembled you finishing for him made him desire the sight, feeling, and sound even more.

He tapped around, finding the string much easier this time. He had, after all, done this before. Ekko’s fingers twisted and nudged the dial back an additional few seconds. You watched the world seem to warp around you and your sentience of the current moment seem to slip away.

The sound of his name teetered on your lips again, dragging at the feel of your climax reverting back to being just on the edge of explosion.

He was still so delicate with you, savoring every moment he had with you. He spoke quickly, “You okay?”

You sucked in your own lips, stifling a moan. “Mhm.”

“Knew you could handle it.”

You nodded, not speaking but revelling in the feeling—inching on the precipice of finally finishing, again that was.

Ekko had never done this before, tortured you so sweetly in this way. Going back every few seconds added a weight to you that was surprisingly comforting. Reverting to a moment in time, just before he had you fully undone, welled tears in your eyes.

He licked and slurped you, his fingers again pushing in and out of you. Ekko let his other hand snake up and kneed into the warmth of your stomach. Your lower half began to match his rhythm, swirling up and around in circles.

“I’m,” you sucked in a sharp breath, “I’m gonna-“

He heard the slurred words. The moist sound of your words was an indicator, too. Every detail about you was intoxicating. He couldn’t think too far ahead, just for now.

Ekko became more fervent, speeding up every pace he’d found. You could no longer keep up; you let the feeling of him guide you. The once slowly building embers snapped in you and jolted your entire body in half—your spine finding its way away from the mattress.

He crawled up, kissing your lips sweetly until he’d lost breath…and when he did, a crank filled the room. He’d kiss you forever if he could—and with time at the palm of his hands, he’d make sure this feeling would last a lifetime.

#jaggedamethyst #angst #arcane #ekko x reader #ekko league of legends #ekko arcane #ekko #ekko x you #ekko x y/n #ekko x fem reader #smut #ekko smut #boy savor #boy savior

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covetyou · 5 months ago

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tool time

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: cock worship, self imposed denial, blue balls for all, that tool belt, pet names (darlin', baby), mentions of oral sex and p in v, very brief mention of alcohol, no/pre-outbreak TLOU, no use of y/n. word count: 3k summary: He was always there to pull you both back from the brink, though you weren't sure there was any saving you this time. And it was all because of something as simple as a tool belt.

A/N: it has been one year to the day (and almost to the minute) since I published sleepless in 2023. happy anniversary to the fic that started it all. thanks to all of you for sticking with me, and thanks to Joel Miller for always being That Man.

thank you to @sp00kymulderr and a conversation months ago at this point that inspired this fic 💛

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Y'Starin'?"

You were. From the moment he walked in, actually.

Then, from the moment he slung that thing low around his hips this morning, you knew you were done for. Four weeks of pain and struggle, all for nothing.

The best laid plans, you guess, as you grunt back at him with a shrug.

It was on you, really. You were probably setting yourself up for failure the moment you had your first grownup sleepover with one Joel Miller. Sensible people don't do that to themselves. Not when they have rules to keep to. They may have been your own rules, but that was besides the point. Rules were rules, and you never did like breaking them.

Watching Joel move and shift, his bulge in his denim framed neatly by the leather of his work belt, you had a feeling breaking this particular rule wouldn't upset you for long.

Six weeks. That was the rule. Just two painful weeks away. Six weeks, and then you'd be free from this forced celibacy you'd put yourself into. It was a test for yourself more than anything - always too eager to throw yourself into intimacy with people who didn't care and, if you were being honest, with people who you didn't care about either. You figured if you wanted different, you'd have to make it different.

You just didn't account for the first man in your life after a months long dry spell to be Joel Miller.

From the day you said those words into his mouth - six weeks, give me six weeks and I'm all yours - he'd been all in. He told you he could wait as long as you needed, and from the moment he said it you believed him. The problem was, from the moment he said it, you also wanted to fuck him about it.

But you couldn't, because that was exactly the rule you were trying to keep to. No sex for six fucking weeks.

You weren't even sure why you picked six weeks in the first place. The exact whys of it all went out of your head the moment Joel committed to your stupid, self-imposed rule without question. Those reasons why grew further from you each and every week he calmly stopped your dates from going too far with a gruff don't wanna break your rules, baby.

Even when you were forced to stay the night after one too many drinks, or when a make-out session got too heated, there he was to pull you both back from the brink.

Though, you weren't sure there was any saving you this time.

And it was all because of something as simple as a tool belt.

You'd seen him in it before. It wasn't new. It was quite old, and worn, actually. Usually you'd simply see him throw it into the back seat of his truck, or onto his counter, or over his shoulder. On one occasion you'd caught him on his knees, belt strapped around his hips as he fixed up a broken cabinet in his garage.

It did the same to you then as it did now, but this time it was staying on and not being hastily discarded with an oh shit, I'm runnin' late.

Now, he stands and shifts his hips, legs crossed at the ankle, the bulge in his denim so perfectly framed you're sure the sight will be burned into your vision for ever.

"You're doing that on purpose."

Your eyes are looking through him. Fuck knows you can't look at him. Not right now, not when two billion reasons not to break your one rule couldn't hold you back from just doing it.

"Doin' what?" he asks in a voice so innocent you almost believe him. Until he shifts once again, hips rocking in your direction, the denim bunching between his legs over his soft bulge.

"Stop it, Joel."

"Stop doin' what?"

Maybe he doesn't have a clue what he's doing to you - what he's been doing to you every day for weeks. Maybe he's oblivious, or too innocent and pure and good to know just how ravenous you're feeling for him right this moment, or maybe he's hoping he isn't seeing the way you're looking at him, ready to devour him in one, so he stands some chance of getting to work on time.

Yes, you could be strong and ignore the way his hand engulfs the coffee mug he's drinking from - strong but delicate in a way you know it to be by how he lets his fingertips dance up and down your side in the dead of the night. You could look past how his eyes flick down your body, stood stiff and still as far away from him as you can get in your tiny little kitchen. You could even ignore the way he licks the dregs of coffee from his lips, swiping his hand across his chin as his cup clinks down on the counter.

But then, those strong, delicate hands find purchase on his belt, hooking through a loop you saw him tuck a hammer into that day in his garage, and - as though you hadn't decided from the moment he put the belt on his hips - the last crumbling ruins of your resolve crash to the ground.

"Fuck it."

"Darlin', you -"

You cut him off with a kiss - striding across the kitchen to grab him by the shirt before he could even realize what was happening.

"Shut up," you breath into his mouth, silencing him more with the pressure of your lips on his than with the words on your tongue.

Joel, still trying to be a gentleman, keeps his one hand planted on the counter, the other on his belt, white knuckle gripping as he tries to keep up with your frantic kisses. You bite and nip at his lips, the fire in your belly not letting up even though you're well aware neither of you have time for this. And, though his hands are still, he kisses back with a fire to match, setting the ruins of your rules ablaze right there on the kitchen floor.

But then you're gone, and he's chasing a mouth that's no longer there.

His eyes snap open just as you slip down his body, your hands releasing from his shirt to slide down the length of his torso as you descend.

"Darlin', I -"

"Shut up, Joel," you growl again as your knees collide with the kitchen tile. It's not comfortable, and it's certainly not romantic, but it's what you need, so you'll take it.

"Your rule, baby, I don't wanna -"

"Fuck my rule, Joel."

Your eyes drop from his to the belt in front of you, then lower still to the soft lump in worn denim. You'd only been this close in your dreams - and there had been a lot of them lately. Waking up wet and sticky between your legs after a Joel sleepover was something you were now well accustomed to. While the you of your dreams could make the man come in two seconds flat some nights, the real you - the one on their knees in their kitchen - didn't have a clue what got his blood pumping and his heart racing.

You press a lingering kiss to the front of his jeans anyway. Just to see, really. Then, by the way his eyes widen, pupils blowing black in his warm eyes, and his breath hitches, you have a feeling you won't have much trouble at all finding out what makes Joel Miller tick.

You chain together another kiss, and then another, and then another, pressing your soft lips to the rough denim as you listen to his ragged breaths.

"I -"

"Shut up."

You don't want him to speak. You don't want him to be sensible, or to stop you, not when you've already waited so long. Not when his cock is right in front of you, separated by nothing but a zipper and some fabric.

You press a firmer kiss to him, breathing deeply and letting your eyes slip closed as you inhale. He always smells so clean in the mornings, but this time it's mixed with something else. The soft scent of his laundry detergent is still there, but there's the earthy smell of his leather belt, just a few inches away from your face. It smells of wood and dust and metal - the fixtures and undoubtedly a few errant screws and nails dumped into the pockets and pouches accounting for the latter. Then there's something else too, as you take another breath, groaning against the denim that you nuzzle your face into, feeling him twitch beneath your cheek.

He likes this. If the stiffening lump beneath your lips, pressed against your nose, rubbed against your cheek is anything to go by, he likes this a lot. Who could blame the man, really. He'd waited as long as you had. Four weeks for you had been four weeks for him. Four weeks of you trying to break through his resolve, to crack him so he was to blame for your broken rule and not you. Four weeks of you edging closer and closer to his waistband each time you kissed on the couch. Four weeks of your hips shifting back into his crotch every night you went to sleep.

"You smell so good, Joel," you groan into his crotch, letting your head rest against his thigh as you sink lower on your knees. Your head feels floaty on your shoulders, and you wonder if he can feel the hot warmth of your breath against his cock through his jeans.

His thighs tense beneath your palms as you steady yourself on him. You should probably slow down, you think, but no sooner is the thought in your head when your fingers are already creeping up and up to stroke across the soft leather of his belt.

You want to pull it off and pull his jeans down and finally taste him. You want to leave it on, slung around his hips as it is, holding onto it to anchor yourself to him as he slides into you. You want to feel it slapping against your ass as he fucks you, face down into the mattress screaming his name.

Instead you pull, tugging his hips closer to your face. He grunts above you, shifting his own hips again as his cock swells in his pants, undoubtedly uncomfortable in the confines of his jeans. You want to take it out - you could take it out. You could see it for the first time right now, right here. You could taste it if you wanted to. You'd imagined it enough.

But you don't.

Even through your desperation, there were things you still wanted for that first time with Joel Miller. Fantasies of the belt, and the need you had for him right now couldn't sway you from that, at least.

You'd have him stripped bare, and you would be too. Hands and mouths and tongues would explore first. And then, when the desperation got too much to bear, he'd slip into you like he'd always belonged there, sliding down to the root and burrowing himself in you.

"I don't want you to do anything you'll regret, baby," he whispers, holding your hand against his thigh, stilling you for just a second.

You could sob at how good he is, even now as you try to ruin him on your knees.

"How could I regret this," you murmur, white hot heat radiating off his cock as it throbs right beneath your chin. "Please, Joel. Fuck my rule. I don't care. I just want you."

You watch as his resolve begins to crack, shattering first in his eyes as he spares a heated glance down at you between his legs.

"Fuck."

You begin in earnest then. Your hands that were stilled go back to kneading, pawing at his thighs, reaching round to grab a handful of his ass as you press kiss after kiss to his cock, dampening the fabric of his jeans with your saliva.

"Wanted it for so long," you breath. "Need it. Fuck, Joel."

You're babbling into his crotch. You know you are. You don't care. All you care is about the wet heat between your legs and the cock in front of you, swollen and desperate as you are wet and dripping. In this moment you're made for each other, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing, as he throbs, pulsating with each kiss you press to him.

He gasps suddenly and you're pulled out of your trance, looking up at him as a wet patch blooms on the front of his jeans.

"Baby, you can't -"

"Don't you want to?" you ask breathlessly. "Don't you want to know what it's like?"

"I do - jesus fuck - I do, we just don't got the time."

You groan into his crotch. He's right. Of course he is. Still, you don't stop. He can feel your breath hot on him through the denim, you're sure of it. You want - need - him to know how much you want him. You need him to carry it with him all damn day until he's aching and desperate and ready to fuck you the moment he sees you.

He's not looking down at you the next time you cast your eyes up. Instead his head is titled skyward and his jaw is open in a soft moan you can barely hear from the blood pumping in your ears. The hand that was on his belt has joined the other, gripping the counter, twitching as if itching to grab at you when you run your teeth over the now solid mass in his pants.

"I want you," you whisper. "Wanted you for weeks."

You let your hands take over, cascading up and down his strong thighs, scraping nails down and dragging delicate finger tips up. With one more kiss to the heavy weight at the front of his jeans, you bring your hand up to cup him, palming the heat between his legs and gasping at the feel of it.

He feels so heavy, and warm, and perfect in your hand.

"Fuck," you hiss, squeezing gently at his covered cock. "Joel."

"Unngh."

He's wrecked. If his breathing and the way he can't look down at you is anything to go by, he may be past the point of no return. It sends a thrill through you, ruining your clean panties even more as the realization strikes you.

You could make him come like this.

And you shouldn't. The sensible part of you knows that. You know he doesn't have anything else to change into, and you know that time is rapidly ticking away by the ache gradually throbbing in your knees.

But, you could - and that just makes to too hard to resist.

So, you continue on, pressing kisses to his cock, wishing desperately you could cradle the heft of his balls in your hand as you took his head into your mouth. Your teeth nip at his thighs, scrape gently across the sides of his bulge. And then, your tongue slips out from between your swollen lips, and you lick gently at the precum seeping through his jeans.

You moan. Whine, really. Whimper, if you were being really honest with yourself. The rough fabric on your tongue and the bitter salt of his precum on your tongue almost have you coming right there on the kitchen floor. You quiver instead, holding it back as you spread your legs, desperate for relief that you don't have time for.

"Fuck, baby, you're gonna make me -"

The vibration of his phone in his pocket, twinned with a harsh beep, startles both of you. You look around, confused for a moment, before Joel scrambles for his back pocket.

"Tommy, hey," he says, clearing his throat. Tommy's voice booms back down the receiver. He's outside. Sorry I'm late, he says, and you could laugh if you weren't so painfully turned on and wrecked from the few minutes you'd spent on your knees acquanting yourself with Joel's cock.

"Yep. Uh-huh. Be out in a sec. Sure."

There's nothing but silence and the sound of your breathing when he hangs up. You can't bring yourself to get up any more than he can bring himself to walk away.

"We gotta get goin'," Joel finally says, hearing an impatient beep of a car horn outside.

"Tonight," you say with certainty, still on your knees. "You're fucking me tonight, Joel."

He helps you up, fingers twitching as they hold your waist. You don't have time for what you both want. Even a kiss could turn into something neither of you could pull back from now. You move to the door, together and desperate and messy in ways neither of you can say out loud, because the clock is ticking.

"Joel," you say, holding back a smile as you walk to your car. "Might wanna check the front of your pants."

He looks down, his cock still hard and uncomfortable in the confines of his jeans. He'd hoped the short walk to the door would releave some of the pressure, but it doesn't. And then he sees it - the dark bloom of wet denim, evidence of the twin effort between you and his cock to ruin his day in the best possible way.

Joel shifts his tool belt, letting it sit lopsided on his hips. You can see by the look in his eye that he wants to push you up against your car and kiss you like he means it. You can see by the way his fingers grip that loop in his tool belt once more, holding onto it for dear life, biting at his inner cheek.

"Tonight," he growls, when he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, before stalking away to the waiting shadow of Tommy's truck.

You watch the leather of his belt slap against the full meat of his ass with every step, and you smile. Just one more day - ten more hours - and the denial would be over, the belt would be off and you'd finally, finally, get what you so desperately wanted.

Fuck your rule.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #coveted fics

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Note

Joel/Reader

Free Use - Joel fucking the reader while she’s doing some other task like cooking. They have an agreement that he can fuck her whenever he likes so he just slides into her without preamble 😭

Making dinner (free use)

700 words, Joel x f!Reader.

A/N: You had me at “without preamble.” See the Free Use collection for more. Wanna use Joel? Free Use of Joel HCs (post-outbreak).

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ Unsafe PIV, consent for free use has been pre-established, pre or non-outbreak. Master List

You’re making dinner for Joel’s birthday and expect him home any minute. Tommy will be staying for dinner, too. You’re wearing Joel’s favorite sundress, the form-fitting one that drives him wild, with no bra. He’s been working with his hands this week, really building something himself, as opposed to overseeing other workers. You love seeing Joel when he gets home from a hands-on job. Sleeves rolled up, shirt blotched with perspiration, forearms smudged with dirt. You get wet just thinking about it and even wetter when the truck pulls into the driveway.

When the guys walk in, they’re as dirty as you expect. Joel gives you a little kiss hello and Tommy greets you politely. The only shower is upstairs, and Joel says Tommy can use it first. Meanwhile, Joel goes to put his tools away in the garage. The door closes again, then Joel’s boots are slow and heavy on the linoleum as he crosses the kitchen. You glance up from the potatoes you’re slicing, and he’s unfastening his belt as he walks. His lips part as he looks you up and down like a piece of meat.

You keep chopping the potatoes while Joel washes his hands right next to you, his jeans grazing your dress. He dries his hands on a lemon-print dish towel, then throws it down on the counter and gets in your space. The shower turns on upstairs. Joel grabs your ass with a quiet “Mmmm.” He steps behind you, crowding you against the counter, and you feel him hard against your ass. He inhales your hair. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day” he whispers to himself in a near-growl. You keep chopping, but slow the knife as his hands hook around your thighs. His large fingers skim up your legs and take your dress with them. He leaves your dress resting on top of your ass, now clad only in a thong. He rocks onto his tiptoes as he frees his stiff cock from his pants. His boot gently kicks the inside of your sandal, prompting you to spread your legs a little more. Then, he pushes your thong out of the way with his pinky, nestles his tip at your dripping entrance, and begins to push inside.

He wraps an arm around your waist, giving you a whiff of sawdust mixed with sweat. His masculine scent never fails to make you weak in the knees. His arm tightens around you, then his stiff manhood plunges into you. You gasp softly as his girth parts your core. You pause your task for only a moment, taking a deep breath as your bodies are joined. His cock retreats, then sinks even deeper into you, bottoming out with a grunt. He gropes your breast, and your nipple hardens. You start chopping the vegetables again.

Joel buries his cock inside you, jerking himself off with your tight, wet cunt while you cook. He growls and grunts and gropes where he wants. His thrusts intensify and the momentum propels you onto your tiptoes. His fingers dig into your hips and his strong hands hold you down while his thick cock fills you up again and again.

The shower water turns off upstairs. Joel quickens his pace, and both his big arms tighten around you as he pistons into you. This isn’t for your pleasure, not at all, but the intensity of the situation, the strength of his arms around you, the waft of his scent, it all comes together and something rapidly builds within you. Your core tightens, his breath becomes ragged, and he twitches inside you. He pulls out all but his massive tip, then slams into you again, filling you to the brim. His cock pulses powerfully, tipping you over the edge into your own climax, and you let the knife clatter into the sink. Joel holds you down on his cock as he comes and you clench around him.

The bathroom door opens upstairs. Joel slides out of you and puts his cock away as Tommy’s footsteps start down the stairs. Joel’s cum trickles out of you and he hands you the lemon-print dish towel. Your face burns as you quickly wipe your inner thighs. When Tommy walks into the kitchen, you’re all disheveled and your dress is filthy from Joel’s arms.

If you like this one, I recommend Speakeasy, Speakeasy Bartender, and Picnic Table.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#free use!joel #free use!joel miller #free use!Joel☠️

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arabella0001 · 24 days ago

Text

one bad situation with Sasuke Uchiha

part 1 part 2 part 3 warnings: virginity lose, dry humping, fingering, after care

you walk back to the inn together, the last leg of your mission uneventful yet heavy with unspoken tension. the village, quiet and tucked beneath the rising evening mist, fades into the background as sasuke strides beside you, his gaze steady, his movements efficient as always.

once you’re back in the room, you begin organizing the leftover tools from the mission, but sasuke’s watchful presence gnaws at your focus. he leans against the wall by the window, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable, but his gaze burns like he’s peeling away your every thought.

“it’s done,” he says, his voice as calm and flat as the morning.

you nod, deliberately not looking at him. “yeah. it went smoothly.”

the faintest hum leaves his throat, but the silence stretches after, weighted. you busy yourself with brushing dust from your clothes, but the stillness makes every movement feel too loud.

“something on your mind?” he remarks, finally breaking the silence. “you usually speak at least about the mission more.”

you glance at him briefly, your heart skipping as you catch the sharp focus in his eyes. “it’s not like you’ve been chatty either.”

“not the same,” he counters smoothly, taking a step closer.

his nearness pulls at something deep inside you, an unspoken gravity that leaves you unsteady and you turn back to the tools, desperate to mask your reaction.

he moves closer, his presence impossible to ignore now, until you feel the faint warmth of him at your back. his voice drops lower.

you stiffen, your fingers faltering. before you can respond, his hand brushes against your side, just barely grazing your waist. the contact sends a jolt through you, and you freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

“see?” his tone is quieter now, more deliberate. “you tense up every time i touch you.”

you swallow hard, your voice shaky as you protest, “i don’t—”

his other hand comes up, brushing your hair aside as he leans in. the heat of his breath against your neck makes your knees weak, and your words trail off into silence.

“you’re thinking about last night,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

your cheeks burn, and your hands clench into fists as you try to fight the pull of his voice. “i’m not.”

his hand slides lower, his fingers splaying over your hip with possessive pressure. “don’t lie to me,” he says, his tone sharper now.

your body betrays you as a soft, shaky breath escapes, and you curse inwardly as you feel him smirk against your neck.

“that’s what i thought,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening slightly as he pulls you back against him.

“sasuke,” you manage, your voice trembling as he shifts his body closer.

“what?” he asks, his voice dropping further, sending a shiver down your spine. “i’m just proving my point.”

the hand on your hip slides lower, his fingers trailing over the curve of your thigh before brushing between your legs, the faintest pressure making your breath hitch. he pauses there, his touch teasing, testing.

“you’re already shaking,” he observes, his voice laced with quiet amusement.

you turn your head to glare at him, but the heat in his eyes steals any retort you might’ve had. “you’re impossible,” you whisper instead, your voice barely audible.

“and you’re distracting,” he replies, his lips brushing against your jaw as he tilts your head back slightly.

his free hand moves to your other hip, his fingers firm as he guides you back against him. the hard length of him pressing into you makes your body jolt, heat flooding your cheeks.

“sasuke—”

“relax,” he cuts you off, his tone quiet but commanding. his hand presses more firmly against your thigh, coaxing your legs apart slightly as his other hand trails upward, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

the contrast of his rough fingertips against your soft skin sends a shiver through you, and your head tilts back against his shoulder as he explores further, his touch growing more confident.

“you’re sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a rare hint of satisfaction. “i could feel it last night. i still can.”

your breath catches as his hand finally slips lower, his fingers finding the sensitive heat between your legs. the light pressure makes your hips jerk involuntarily, and a soft moan escapes before you can stop it.

“louder than i expected,” he teases, his lips grazing your neck.

you bite your lip, heat burning your face as his fingers begin to move, slow and deliberate, tracing lazy circles over your clit. the teasing pace makes your body tremble, the pleasure building steadily as he presses harder.

“do you want me to stop?” he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.

“no,” you whisper, your voice shaking as your hips press into his hand.

his other hand leaves your hip, moving to the waistband of his pants. you hear the faint sound of fabric shifting, and when his hand returns, he guides yours to him. the hard length of him beneath your palm makes your breath hitch, and his low groan as you touch him sends heat straight through you.

“you see what you do to me?” he mutters, his voice rough as he moves your hand over him, showing you the pace he likes.

you nod, your fingers tightening around him as you follow his lead. his jaw tightens, and his movements grow more erratic, his hand between your legs working you with increased intensity.

“you’re ready for me,” he says, his voice strained as his fingers slide against you, teasing your entrance before slipping inside.

the stretch is unfamiliar, but the sensation makes your whole body tense, pleasure coiling tightly in your core as he begins to move. his other hand covers yours again, guiding you to stroke him faster, his breathing growing heavier with every movement.

“sasuke…” his name escapes your lips in a soft, desperate moan, and the sound seems to push him over the edge.

he pulls his hand from between your legs, spinning you around to face him. his gaze is fierce, his breathing ragged as he holds your face in his hands. “tell me you want this,” he demands, his voice low but commanding.

“i do,” you whisper, meeting his gaze. “i want you.”

he kisses you then, hard and hungry, as he lowers you onto the bed. his hands roam your body, exploring every inch of you as he aligns himself, pausing just long enough to ask, “are you sure?”

when you nod, he moves, his control faltering as he finally takes you.

sasuke positions himself above you, his body radiating heat, his dark eyes fixed on you with a focus so intense it makes your breath hitch. his fingers skim down your sides, deliberate and firm, igniting your skin as he steadies himself. he’s silent, but his actions speak volumes—he’s studying you, committing every inch of you to memory.

“spread your legs,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, but there’s a softness there, an edge of restraint that sends shivers down your spine.

your heart pounds as you do as he says, the cool air brushing against your bare skin. his hand moves to your inner thigh, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh as he pulls your legs farther apart. « better than i imagined » the vulnerability of the position sends a rush of nervous excitement through you, and you can’t stop the way your body trembles beneath him.

“you’re nervous,” he observes, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. his hand slides higher, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin at your core. “is it fear?”

“no,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, though your pulse is racing.

“good,” he says, his tone low and dangerous, as though your answer was the only one he would have accepted.

his hand slides lower, his fingers parting you gently. the teasing pressure against your clit makes your hips jerk, and you bite your lip to stifle a soft gasp. sasuke’s gaze flicks to your face, dark and unreadable as his thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles.

“i can feel how much you want this,” he mutters, almost to himself, the faintest hint of satisfaction in his voice.

your cheeks burn, but any embarrassment is quickly overshadowed by the waves of pleasure building under his touch. his fingers slip lower, teasing your entrance before slowly pressing inside. the stretch is unfamiliar, your body tensing instinctively, but sasuke is patient.

“relax,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his lips against your neck. his free hand brushes over your hip, grounding you as he moves his fingers slowly, carefully, letting you adjust to the sensation. “i’ll make it good for you.”

your breath hitches as he adds another finger, his movements deliberate and controlled, curling just enough to make your back arch. the pleasure is overwhelming, coiling tight in your stomach with every stroke.

“sasuke,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips before you can stop it.

the sound seems to snap something in him. he withdraws his fingers, sitting back on his heels as he strokes himself, his dark eyes burning into yours.

“are you ready?” he asks, his voice rough and strained, his composure hanging by a thread.

“yes,” you whisper, your voice trembling but certain. “i want you.”

the faint smirk on his lips is gone, replaced by something deeper, more primal. he leans forward, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself at your entrance. the weight of him pressing against you sends a shiver through your entire body.

“tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his tone softer now, but there’s an edge of dominance beneath it.

you nod, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he begins to push forward. the stretch is slow, almost agonizing, as he fills you inch by inch. your body tenses, the unfamiliar sensation burning slightly, and sasuke stills immediately, his hands tightening on your hips.

“does it hurt?” he asks, his voice low but steady, his gaze searching yours.

you shake your head, though your breath is shaky. “no. it’s just… different.”

e nods, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re doing good. breathe.”

you follow his command, your body slowly relaxing as he resumes moving, pushing deeper until he’s fully inside you. he stays still for a moment, letting you adjust, his breathing heavy against your neck.

“you take me perfectly,” he mutters, his voice rough with restraint. his hips pull back slightly before pressing forward again, the slow, deliberate motion sending a wave of heat through you.

the discomfort fades quickly, replaced by a growing pressure that makes your breath hitch. you shift your hips experimentally, and the movement draws a low groan from sasuke’s throat, his hands gripping you tighter.

“don’t tease me,” he growls, his voice tinged with a warning.

you barely have time to process his words before he begins moving again, his rhythm slow but deep, each thrust building the tension in your core. the friction, the heat, the sheer intensity of him pressing into you—it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“sasuke,” you gasp, your hands gripping his arms as your body arches beneath him.

his pace quickens slightly, his control slipping as his own need overtakes him. he angles his hips, and when he thrusts again, he hits a spot deep inside you that makes your entire body jerk.

“there,” you manage, your voice breaking on the word.

he groans softly, adjusting his position to hit that spot with every thrust. “right there?”

“yes,” you cry, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure ripples through you.

his movements grow rougher, his hips snapping against yours as the room fills with the sound of skin against skin, mingling with your soft moans and his low, guttural breaths. the tension in your stomach coils tighter with every thrust, building to an unbearable peak.

“you’re tighter than i expected,” he mutters, his voice strained. his lips find yours in a searing kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he swallows your moans.

you’re trembling beneath him now, your body unable to handle the overwhelming sensations. “sasuke—I’m—”

“let it go,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone a quiet command. “i’ve got you.”

the tension snaps, and your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the bed as a cry escapes your lips. sasuke doesn’t stop, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release.

when he finally comes, he buries himself deep inside you, a low, guttural groan rumbling from his chest as his body stiffens. earlier, he had paused, his gaze meeting yours with a silent question, and you had nodded, your voice steady as you whispered, 'yes, please.' now, you feel the heat of him spilling into you, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure there will be marks.

for a moment, neither of you moves, the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing. sasuke collapses beside you, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you against his chest.

when it’s over, he lies beside you, his hand resting lightly on your waist as his breathing evens out. he doesn’t speak immediately, but his gaze remains on you, watching you carefully.

“you’re not hurt?” he asks finally, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

you shake your head, smiling faintly. “no. i’m okay.”

he nods, brushing a strand of hair from your face before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “good.”

though words aren’t his strong suit, the way he stays close—the way his hand traces idle patterns on your skin—says more than enough.

sasuke doesn’t say much as you both catch your breath, but his actions are deliberate. he brushes your hair away from your face, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before getting up to clean you carefully. when he returns, he lies beside you, his arm draping over your waist as he pulls you close.

“are you okay?” he asks finally, his voice quieter now, laced with a rare vulnerability.

you nod, smiling softly. “i’m okay.”

his lips twitch into a faint smirk, but his dark eyes remain serious, nodding almost uncharacteristically gently.

though he’s not one for grand gestures, the way he holds you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, makes you feel more cared for than any words ever could. sasuke uchiha may not say much, but his presence speaks louder than anything.

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paraphraseapps · 3 months ago

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waitforyrlove · 1 month ago

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slytherin ! matt doesn’t let you break free from his game.

you were running late for Herbology, the kind of late that made your stomach twist with anxiety. As you rushed into the greenhouse, your hands frantically dug into your bag, searching for your herbology knife—the one essential tool for today’s class.

it wasn’t there.

panic set in as you rifled through every pocket, your fingers brushing over parchment, quills, and an array of useless things that weren’t what you needed. The knife, the one Professor Sprout insisted you always bring to class, was gone.

“Everything alright?” your friend asked from the workstation next to you, a curious look on her face.

“No,” you muttered, shaking your head, “I can’t find my knife.”

“Did you leave it in your dorm?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, though doubt was starting to creep in. You never misplaced that knife—it was practically second nature to check for it before every Herbology lesson.

your eyes darted across the room as you scanned for any sign of it, but something—or rather, someone—caught your attention instead.

Matt.

he was leaning casually against one of the greenhouse tables, his sleeves rolled up and his trademark smirk firmly in place. His green-and-silver tie was loose around his neck, and he was twirling something between his fingers.

it was your knife.

your stomach dropped, a mixture of anger and disbelief bubbling to the surface. You didn’t even need to look twice to confirm it—it was unmistakably yours. The silver blade glinted in the sunlight, and the worn leather grip bore the tiny scratch you’d accidentally made during your first Herbology class.

you stormed over to him, your heart pounding with irritation. “Is there a reason you’re holding my knife, Matt?”

he looked up at you, feigning innocence, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “Oh, this is yours?”

“Yes,” you snapped, crossing your arms, “Give it back.”

Matt tilted his head, as if considering your request, but the smirk on his face only widened,“You really should take better care of your things, sweetheart. Leaving them lying around for anyone to take?”

“I didn’t leave it lying around,” you hissed, your voice low to avoid drawing too much attention. “You stole it.”

“Stole is such a strong word,” he replied smoothly. “I’d say… borrowed.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin, “Whatever you want to call it, I need it back. Now.”

he chuckled, leaning in slightly so his voice was just for you, “What’s the rush? Herbology’s barely started.”

you clenched your fists, your frustration mounting, “Matt, I’m serious. Give it back.”

“Hmm,” he mused, leaning back against the table and twirling the knife once more, “I could give it back. Or…” He trailed off, his smirk taking on a mischievous edge.

“Or what?” you asked warily, already dreading his answer.

“Or you could do something for me first,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes sharp.

you groaned, already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment, “Why can’t you ever just do something without making it into a game?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he countered, his smirk never faltering.

you stared at him, your anger battling with the realization that you didn’t have a choice. You needed that knife. Herbology was one of your better subjects, and you couldn’t afford to fall behind—not because of him.

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

his smirk deepened, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I need some information. From Ravenclaw.”

“Information? About what?”

he straightened up, his expression growing slightly more serious. “I need information. There’s someone in Ravenclaw—Connor Ashworth—who’s been running his mouth about me, talking shit, I want to know what he’s saying and who he’s saying it to.”

your jaw tightened at the word harmless, but you bit back your retort, “So you want me to spy on him?”

“Exactly,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, “Find out what you can, and then your precious knife is all yours.”

you glared at him, hating how easily he manipulated the situation to his advantage, “And what happens if I refuse?”

he twirled the knife one last time before slipping it into his pocket, “Then I guess you’ll be doing today’s lesson without it.”

you stared at him, your mind racing. Every instinct told you not to give in, not to let him win. But the thought of standing in front of Professor Sprout empty-handed, trying to explain why you didn’t have your knife, made your stomach churn.

“Fine,” you said at last, your voice heavy with resignation, “I’ll do it.”

“Atta girl,” Matt said, his smirk widening as he straightened up, “I knew you’d see reason.”

you didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you turned on your heel and stormed back to your workstation, your mind already working on how you were going to pull this off.

the next day, you found yourself in the Ravenclaw common room under the pretense of borrowing a book from one of your friends. It was awkward at first, trying to subtly steer the conversation toward Connor without raising suspicion. But luckily, your friend was more than happy to gossip.

“Connor’s been acting so smug lately,” she said, flipping through the pages of her Charms textbook. “I overheard him talking to someone about Matt the other day. Something about a duel? Or maybe it was a bet. I’m not sure.”

you leaned in, feigning casual curiosity, “What was he saying?”

“Mostly that he got the better of Matt in some argument. Honestly, it sounded like typical Connor—blowing things out of proportion to make himself look good.”

you nodded, trying to piece together the information. Matt hadn’t mentioned anything about a duel, but it was clear that whatever Connor was spreading, it was enough to bother him.

for the rest of the afternoon, you lingered around the Ravenclaws, picking up snippets of conversation here and there. By the time you returned to your common room, you had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

that evening, you found Matt waiting for you in the corridor outside the library.

“Well?” he asked, his smirk firmly in place, “What did you find out?”

you crossed your arms, glaring at him, “Connor’s been bragging about a duel with you. He’s telling people he humiliated you.”

Matt’s eyes darkened, his smirk faltering for the first time, “Did he say anything else?”

“Just that he’s been talking to some Hufflepuffs about it. Apparently, he’s trying to make sure the whole school hears about it.”

Matt let out a low laugh, though there was no humor in it, “Interesting,”

“Now give me my knife,” you said, holding out your hand expectantly.

he glanced at you, his smirk returning, “Oh, I will. But I think you’ve earned a little reward for your hard work.”

“I don’t want a reward. I just want my knife.”

Matt pulled the blade from his pocket, holding it up between his fingers, “Fine,” he said, stepping closer. “But you have to admit… we make a pretty good team.”

you snatched the knife from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment, “This isn’t a team. This is blackmail.”

he chuckled, taking a step back. “Call it whatever you want, sweetheart. You’ll come around eventually.”

you glared at him, slipping the knife back into your satchel, “Don’t count on it.”

as you turned to leave, Matt’s voice followed you down the corridor.

“Careful out there,” he called, his tone light but laced with something darker, “You never know when you’ll need my help again.”

you didn’t dignify him with a response, but his words stuck with you as you made your way back to your common room.

no matter how much you tried to distance yourself, Matt always seemed to pull you back into his web. And as much as you hated to admit it, a small part of you wondered if you’d ever truly escape.

the days after your reluctant deal with Matt passed in a haze of frustration and unease. Every time you saw him, whether it was in the corridors or during meals in the Great Hall, he gave you that infuriating smirk. It wasn’t just teasing—it was a reminder. He knew he was in your head, and he wasn’t about to let you forget it.

you tried to go about your life as normal, but the weight of Matt’s games lingered like a shadow. And deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over.

it wasn’t over.

it was a Thursday evening, and you were in the library, trying to focus on your Potions essay. The soft scratch of quills and the faint whispers of other students filled the room, a soothing backdrop that helped you push aside your annoyance with Matt—at least for a little while.

but, as always, peace didn’t last long.

you heard the sound of footsteps approaching your table, and before you could even look up, a familiar voice broke through your concentration.

“Working hard, I see.”

you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to face him. Matt stood there, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, his green-and-silver tie hanging loose around his neck. He looked relaxed, but the glint in his eyes told you he was here with a purpose.

“What do you want?” you asked, your voice flat.

Matt slid into the chair across from you, leaning back like he owned the place. “Don’t look so thrilled to see me.”

“I’m not,” you said bluntly.

he chuckled, unbothered by your tone, “You wound me, sweetheart.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep your temper in check, “If this is about Connor, I already did what you asked. I don’t owe you anything.”

“True,” Matt admitted, tilting his head slightly, “But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have something else in mind.”

you groaned, dropping your quill onto the table, “Of course you do. What is it this time?”

Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he studied you with a look that made your skin prickle, “Let’s call it… an opportunity.”

“An opportunity,” you repeated, skepticism dripping from your words.

he nodded, his smirk widening. “There’s a little… gathering happening in the Forbidden Forest this weekend. A few of us are planning to check out some magical creatures that are supposedly nesting there.”

you raised an eyebrow, “And what does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” Matt said, his tone light but calculated, “it just so happens that I could use someone with your… resourcefulness. You’ve proven you’re good at sneaking around, and you’re surprisingly quick on your feet. Plus, if anything goes wrong, it’s always good to have someone who can keep a cool head.”

you stared at him, disbelief etched across your face. “You want me to sneak into the Forbidden Forest with you?”

“Half of the fun, yeah.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head, “I’m not risking detention—or worse—for one of your ridiculous fuckin’ schemes.”

Matt’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he looked even more amused by your resistance, “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure? It’ll be fun. You, me, and a couple of others… what could possibly go wrong?”

“Everything,” you shot back, “Everything could go wrong. And I’m not getting dragged into another one of your messes.”

Matt leaned back in his chair, his smirk softening into something more genuine, “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an awful lot of time thinking about me.”

You froze, heat rushing to your face, “I do not—”

“You do,” he interrupted smoothly, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “And that’s okay, sweetheart. I’m flattered, really.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but no words came out. He always had a way of throwing you off balance, and it drove you insane

“Think about it,” he said, rising to his feet, “We leave Saturday night. Meet me by the edge of the forest if you change your mind.”

“And if I don’t?” you called after him, your frustration bubbling over

Matt glanced back at you, his smirk firmly in place, “You will.”

and with that, he was gone, leaving you fuming at the table

the Saturday night came faster than you’d expected, and despite every logical argument you’d made to yourself, you found yourself standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, your heart pounding in your chest.

Matt was already there, leaning casually against a tree with an air of nonchalance that made you want to strangle him.

“I knew you’d come,” he said, his smirk lighting up the dim surroundings.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

“Oh, you will,” he replied, his tone teasing, “But it’ll be worth it.”

as he led you into the dark, twisting trees, you couldn’t help but wonder how you’d gotten yourself into this mess—again. But one thing was certain: when it came to him, there was no such thing as simple.

the night air was cool, the thick canopy of trees above blocking most of the moonlight as you followed Matt deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Every snap of a twig underfoot felt louder than it should, the silence pressing in around you, heightening your awareness of everything—especially of Matt, walking just ahead, his movements confident and sure.

“So,” you broke the silence, trying to steady your nerves, “What exactly are we doing here? You haven’t exactly given me details.”

Matt glanced over his shoulder, his smirk still in place, “Patience, sweetheart. You’ll find out soon enough.” His tone was teasing, but there was a hard edge underneath it, something that told you he wasn’t entirely joking.

you rolled your eyes but didn’t press him further. The last thing you wanted was to get caught up in one of his games again, but part of you—damn it, part of you—was already intrigued. That damn curiosity of yours had a nasty habit of getting the better of you when it came to Matt.

he led you through the dense forest, your footsteps now muffled by the thick undergrowth beneath. The deeper you went, the more the sounds of the castle faded away, leaving only the occasional rustling of leaves and the faint hoots of owls overhead. Your senses were on high alert, the air around you thick with an eerie tension. You could feel it creeping up your spine.

finally, after what seemed like forever, Matt stopped in front of a small clearing. A large, ancient oak tree loomed at the center, its branches twisted and gnarled like something out of a nightmare. The atmosphere was heavy, and for a moment, you almost regretted following him.

“Alright,” Matt said, turning to face you, “Here’s the deal. I want you to stay here for a bit, keep an eye out. I’m going to check the area around the tree for any… potential problems. If anyone shows up, you’ll need to be the lookout.”

“You brought me out here just to… stand guard? In the middle of the night?”

Matt’s smirk deepened, though there was something darker behind it now, “You’re good at sneaking around, aren’t you? You’ve proven that before. This isn’t a job for amateurs.”

you couldn’t help but scowl at the implied insult, though you had to admit, he had a point. You had been sneaky, both in the library and when you’d stolen the book from his dorm. But you weren’t about to let him get under your skin.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest, “you’re just going to leave me here while you do whatever shady thing you’re planning?”

“Not exactly,” He stepped closer, his voice lowering, “While I’m out there, you’re going to make sure no one follows us. You’ll be the eyes on the ground, and when I’m done, we can go back to the castle without anyone suspecting a thing.” He paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours, “And in return, I’ll consider our… little arrangement settled.”

“I’ve already done more than enough for you,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I know,” Matt replied, his lips curling into a playful grin, “But you’ve got something I want, sweetheart. And you’ll do this for me. Because you don’t want to know what happens if you don’t.”

his words sent a cold shiver down your spine. You hated that you felt the weight of them. Hated that you couldn’t just walk away from this. But despite your protests, you nodded. What else could you do?

“Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll stay here. But don’t expect me to stick around if this goes sideways.”

“Gooood girl.”

and then he disappeared into the darkness, his footsteps light but purposeful as he vanished from your view.

the clearing fell silent once again, and you were left standing alone in the cold night air, your mind racing. What the hell was Matt up to this time? What kind of trouble was he getting himself—and you—into.

you strained your ears, hoping to hear something, anything that would clue you in. But all you could hear was the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that you were missing a piece of the puzzle.

minutes dragged into what felt like hours. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, trying to stay alert. The longer you stood there, the more uncomfortable you became. Your stomach twisted, and your thoughts raced, replaying every interaction with Matt up until this point. His games. His smugness. That damn pull he seemed to have over you.

you rubbed your arms to ward off the chill, your eyes scanning the shadows for any movement. Nothing. Still nothing. Was this some kind of twisted test? Or was he really just out here checking for threats?

the sound of footsteps broke your focus.

you snapped your head toward the noise, your heart slamming against your ribs. A figure emerged from the darkness, cloaked in shadow, moving toward you with deliberate steps.

you held your breath. Was it Matt? Or someone else? A cold sweat trickled down your spine as you instinctively took a step back, the forest suddenly feeling like it was closing in around you.

“Matt?” you called out softly, not sure if you wanted the answer.

the figure froze. Then, you heard the unmistakable voice of Matt, low and smooth in the dark, “You should relax a little. You’re doing fine.”

you exhaled, almost too relieved to speak, “What took you so long?”

“Just making sure the area is clear,” he replied, stepping into the clearing. He seemed to have been gone longer than expected, and there was something different about his energy now. His movements were a little more guarded, his smirk a little more controlled.

“You didn’t run into anyone, did you?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but your nerves were getting the better of you.

Matt studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “No,” he said slowly, “I didn’t. But I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve brought someone else. You look a little too tense for my liking.”

you shot him a glare, irritated by his usual arrogance, “I’m not some pawn in your little games, Matt.”

his lips curved into a smile, though it was less playful now and more dangerous. “Of course not,” he said, stepping closer, “You’re much more than that. You’re a challenge.”

the air between you felt thick, charged with a tension that made it hard to breathe. He took a step closer, his presence closing the space between you until you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You didn’t move, didn’t step back, despite every instinct telling you to run. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled you in despite everything you knew about him.

you swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as he leaned in, just a little, his breath warm against your skin. “You don’t realize it yet,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper, “but you’re already a part of my game, sweetheart. And you’re playing it just the way I want.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, your lips parting slightly in surprise. You tried to ignore the way your body seemed to betray you, heat creeping up your neck, a flutter of something unfamiliar settling deep in your stomach. You didn’t want to be pulled in. You didn’t want to care. But his presence was intoxicating, his proximity making it harder to think, harder to breathe.

your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, you both just stood there, neither of you speaking. His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and something shifted in the air between you, a promise lingering in the space.

you could feel your pulse racing, could feel the dangerous pull between you, the way he was slowly drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You should move away, you should pull back, but the words were stuck in your throat, and your body felt frozen in place.

Matt was close enough now that you could feel his body heat against yours, his every breath seeming to sync with yours. His eyes darkened as he tilted his head slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his warm breath mingling with yours.

“Don’t tell me you’re not tempted,” he murmured, his voice like silk, dark and enticing, “You feel it too. I know you do.”

you felt it—the electric charge in the air, the undeniable pull. It was maddening, how easily he could make you forget your own thoughts, your own boundaries. His lips were so close. If you just leaned in a little more…

you didn’t know how long you stood there, your heart racing, your breath shallow, but the moment felt like it stretched on forever, thick with uncertainty and temptation. You could feel the weight of the decision, the gravity of what was happening, pulling you down into it.

then, just as you thought you might give in, he pulled back, his smirk returning, though this time it held something more, something predatory.

“I thought you had more sense than that,” he said, his voice low and mocking, as though he’d just tested your limits and found them wanting.

you didn’t know if you wanted to punch him or kiss him, and do whatever intrusive thought you had in your mind. Instead, you took a step back, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to regain control of your emotions.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

he only chuckled darkly, his eyes never leaving you, “I always do.”

with that, he turned and began walking back toward the path leading out of the forest, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing, your mind a blur of confusion and desire.

taglist: @secretlocket @pearlzier @et6rnalsun @mattscoquette @carvedtits @sirenedeslily @mattslolita @flouvela @bella-loveschris @lovingregulusblack @sarosfilms @annsx03 @eliana-4200 @wakeupitschrizz @emely9274 @sturniolossss @sturnslutz @sturnlsstuff @sweetcowboycollection @sturnioloangell @xoxoshanelle

˙ . ꒷ 🪽 notes from author ˙— 3 days in a row slytherin ! matt??? who’s this

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200-word-rpgs · 4 months ago

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Tumblr 200 Word RPGs

This is a sideblog for the informal 200-word RPG jams organised by @prokopetz each November.

Next Event

2025's event will run from from 2025-11-01 through 2025-11-30; a link to the submission thread will be placed here while the event is active.

Past Events

2024 – Tumblr thread | Offsite archive (forthcoming) 2023 – Tumblr thread | Offsite archive 2022 – Tumblr thread | Offsite archive

Submission Guidelines

Each entry should be a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer. Coming in lower is fine, though you're welcome to try to hit 200 words exactly if you want an extra challenge.

This is an informal game jam; entries are not curated or judged, no eligibility rules are enforced, no winners are chosen, and the organising parties explicitly refuse to define the terms "word" or "RPG". If you wish to participate, you can follow these steps:

Step 1: If you're unfamiliar with 200-word RPGs, read a bunch of previous years' entries (linked above), or browse the 200 Word RPG Challenge archives at https://200wordrpg.github.io/ to get in the proper headspace. (Note: this blog is not affiliated with the 200 Word RPG Challenge; its archives are provided for reference only.)

Step 2: Write your own 200-word RPG. If you're not sure of your word count, you can use the counter at https://200wordrpg.github.io/wordcount to check. If you disagree with how this tool defines "word", feel free to use a different counting method – adherence to the word limit is on the honour system anyway.

Step 3: Reblog the current event's main post (linked above when an event is active) and append your 200-word RPG in the reblog. Please do not submit your entry as a reblog to the post you are reading right now.

Step 4 (optional): If you wish to provide any author's notes on your entry, please place them under a "Read More" break to make it clear which part of the post is the game and which part is commentary.

Step 5 (optional): Indicate in your post whether you're okay with having your 200-word RPG archived off-site for posterity – if you don't say anything one way or the other, we'll assume the answer is "no". Please state this separately from any more general discussion of sharing or remixing permissions; don't make us guess!

Note: In previous years, we'd requested that folks refrain from discussing entries on the submission thread in order to avoid making them hard to find. Since we have a dedicated sideblog this year, that request is not being made this time around.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #game jam #tumblr 200 word rpgs #200 word rpgs

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the-winter-spider · 3 months ago

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Invisible | Part Four

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angst

A tense silence hung in the air after your exit. Steve shot Bucky a sharp look, muttering under his breath, “What the hell, man?”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, trying to play it off with a shrug. “I was just joking around,” he muttered, a defensive edge creeping into his voice as he took another swig of his drink.

“Joking?” Natasha’s voice was laced with disbelief as she glared at him, not letting it slide. “That wasn’t joking; that was cruel.” She pushed at his shoulder, forcing him to scoot over as she slid out of the booth, clearly fed up with him. Without another word, she walked off in your direction, leaving Bucky with a mixture of confusion and something that almost looked like regret.

Kate looked at him, her brows furrowing. “What was that about?” she asked gently, her hand resting on his arm, her gaze both puzzled and a little disappointed.

Bucky opened his mouth, as if trying to explain, but nothing came out. He just watched Natasha head toward the bathroom, a strange knot forming in his stomach as he began to process what he’d said—and how it landed, but he couldn't have meant it like that right? It was you, why would he intentionally try to hurt you?

“Not tool Buck, not cool” Sam shook his head in disapproval.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were struggling to keep it together. The tears you’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally slipped free, and you swiped at them quickly, determined to regain your composure. But the hurt lingered, twisting deeper the longer you replayed his words in your head.

The door creaked open, and Natasha stepped in, immediately spotting you by the sink. Her expression softened as she approached, her eyes filled with concern. She didn’t waste any time, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a reassuring squeeze.

“He was completely out of line,” she said, her voice warm and comforting. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You shook your head, giving a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob. “I don’t get it, Nat,” you whispered, the words tumbling out as you fought to keep your voice steady. “I don’t get him. Why would he say something like that?”

Natasha rubbed your shoulder, giving you a small, knowing smile. “Because he’s a stupid boy who doesn’t realize what’s right in front of him,” she said, her voice firm and confident. “And sometimes, people say things to hurt the ones they care about without even realizing why.”

You looked at her, a glimmer of hope trying to break through the sadness. “Do you think… he even cares?”

Natasha tilted her head, considering her words carefully. “I think he cares a lot more than he wants to admit. But you can’t wait around for him to get his act together, babe. You deserve someone who’ll see you for who you are without needing a wake-up call.”

Natasha’s hand gripped your shoulder gently, grounding you as she leaned against the bathroom counter. “Screw him,” she muttered, her tone fierce with loyalty. “He doesn’t deserve you. You’re gonna love Dean.” With a mischievous smile, she pulled out her phone, tapping through her photos until she landed on one. She tilted it toward you, her grin widening.

“Here he is,” she said, showing you a picture of Dean. He had tousled dirty blonde hair, warm brown eyes, and a chiselled jawline that made him look straight out of a movie. The complete opposite of Bucky in every way, his gaze was soft but captivating. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

You managed a smile, though your heart still aches. “Yeah… he’s cute.”

Natasha let out a playful scoff, giving you a nudge. “Cute? Babe, he’s more than just cute. Look at that face!”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as she nudged you again, her energy contagious. “Alright, alright, he’s definitely hot.”

“That’s more like it.” She wiped away a stray tear that had escaped down your cheek, her thumb soft and gentle.

A hesitant smile broke through your sadness “So… next Saturday, huh?”

“Next Saturday.” Natasha squeezed your hand, her eyes warm and encouraging. “You ready to get back out there?”

You paused, taking a shaky breath. “Not really,” you admitted. “I think… I think I’m just gonna head home for the night.”

She studied you for a moment, concern flickering in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, glancing down. “I just… I just wanna be back home.”

Natasha’s expression softened, and she reached out, pulling you into a tight hug. “I wish you’d stay,” she murmured, her voice low and full of understanding. “But I get it.”

You wrapped your arms around her, grateful for her support. “Thanks, Nat. For everything… tell them goodbye for me?”

“Anytime,” she whispered, squeezing you one last time before she pulled back, her hand resting on your shoulder. She gave you a reassuring smile, and you felt a little bit of your resolve strengthen.

As she turned and headed back toward the table, you took a deep breath, straightening yourself. With your gaze fixed firmly ahead, you walked towards the exit, grateful that it was on the opposite side of the bar from their booth. You didn’t look back. The noise of the bar faded behind you, and as you stepped out into the quiet night, a weight lifted ever so slightly from your chest. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, bringing a little clarity and calm to the storm swirling inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the ache still lodged in your chest but grateful to be away from the buzz of the bar, from Bucky’s laugh blending with Kate’s. You’d held your own in there, but now, in the stillness, the reality settled heavier on your heart.

You’d been holding onto the hope for so long, convincing yourself that maybe, one day, Bucky would finally see you as more than his best friend, his roommate. But tonight had shattered that illusion in a way you couldn’t ignore. The way he’d looked at Kate — so open, so warm — that had been all you’d ever wanted from him. And watching him give it so freely to her…

You took a deep breath, letting it go, but it came out shakier than you’d hoped. Standing on the edge of the sidewalk, you let yourself feel the sting fully, knowing it was time to start letting go. Natasha was right. Maybe Dean could be a fresh start, a way to move forward. You thought back to that photo on her phone and found yourself smiling, just a little.

---------

Natasha came back to the table, her gaze steely, but before she could say anything, she looked around, noticing Kate’s absence. “Where’d Kate go?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda answered for Bucky, who was still staring down at his drink, sulking. “She had to take a work call,” Wanda said, glancing between Natasha and Bucky with a bit of a frown.

Natasha nodded, then took her seat, her expression hardening as her eyes locked onto Bucky.

Natasha slid back into the booth, her expression colder than Bucky had ever seen. Steve’s gaze snapped to her immediately. “Where’s Y/N?” he asked, voice edged with concern.

“She left,” Natasha replied, a clipped edge to her words. She barely spared Bucky a glance, instead meeting Steve’s gaze, giving him a silent nod.

Steve’s face dropped. “Without saying goodbye?” His question was softer this time, almost to himself, as he began to slide out of the booth. He tossed a quick look to Natasha, who shifted over to take his spot, freeing him up to stand.

Steve grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, and Sam raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going, man?”

“I’ll be right back,” Steve said shortly, already turning toward the exit, his footsteps determined as he headed for the door. He didn’t spare Bucky a second glance.

The silence left behind was tense. Natasha fixed her gaze on Bucky from across the table, her expression steely, almost disappointed. “I hope you’re happy with yourself,” she said, her voice quiet but cutting.

Bucky finally looked up, his jaw clenched, and he let out a rough sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why the hell would I be happy with myself after that?” His voice was low, frustration simmering beneath the words. He avoided her gaze, instead staring down at his half-empty glass.

Natasha crossed her arms, her stare unyielding. “I believe you know exactly what you’re doing, Bucky. And you know it hurts her.”

His head shot up, his eyes flashing, scoffing “What exactly am I doing Nat? What do you think I should do? Just pretend none of this bothers me?”

Natasha held his gaze, not backing down an inch. “No, Bucky, I think you need to decide what you actually want. Because this back-and-forth, hot-and-cold thing you’re doing? It’s cruel. You can’t keep lashing out at her just because you’re confused or jealous or whatever it is.”

Bucky clenched his fists, his frustration spilling over. “You think I want to hurt her? I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words. “I just didn’t expect her to… to….I dont know” His lip wobbled, eyes blurring before he chugged back the rest of his whiskey

Natasha’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “So that’s what this is about? You don’t want her, but you can’t stand the thought of her being with someone else?”

Bucky opened his mouth, then shut it, his expression twisted with frustration and something else—guilt, maybe, or regret. “I never said I didn’t want her,” he muttered, voice barely audible.

Natasha let out a sharp breath, her expression softening, though her disappointment was still clear. “Then maybe you should stop playing games and actually tell her how you feel. But don’t expect her to wait around forever while you figure it out, it's been years Barnes”

Bucky fell silent, his gaze drifting to the empty seat you’d left behind. He could still feel the sting of his own words, the hurt they’d caused you, lingering like a bruise.

“Look, Buck,” Natasha said, her tone gentler now, “you have a choice here. You can keep doing this—keep hurting her, and yourself—or you can take a risk and be honest. But you can’t keep stringing her along. It’s not fair.”

Bucky swallowed hard, staring down at the table. “I didn’t mean for it to go this way,” he admitted quietly. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.”

Natasha’s expression softened further, her voice turning almost sympathetic. “Love is messy, Buck. But if you’re not willing to be vulnerable, you’re just going to keep hurting each other. Think about what you really want, before it’s too late.”

She let her words sink in, then glanced away, as if giving him a moment to process. Bucky stayed quiet, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, his mind racing, torn between fear and hope, knowing he’d have to face the consequences of his choices—one way or another.

Bucky nodded, barely. He stared down at his glass, the noise of the bar fading into the background as Natasha’s words echoed in his mind.

-----

The sound of footsteps on gravel pulled you from your thoughts just outside the bar. You looked up, expecting maybe a stranger passing by, but instead, there was Steve, hands in his pockets, watching you with that familiar, steady gaze of his.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” he said, voice soft. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

You shrugged, forcing a small smile. “Didn’t feel like there was much to say.”

Steve took a step closer, his brows furrowing as he studied you, picking up on the hurt you’d tried so hard to hide. “Nat filled me in,” he said gently, taking off his coat to place it on your shoulders. “He really doesn’t know what he’s missing, you know.”

The words hit you harder than you’d expected, and you felt the corners of your mouth waver. “It’s fine. I think I needed to see it… to know, really.”

He sighed, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Maybe. But you deserve better than the way he acted back there.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Guess it’s time I started looking for it, then.”

Steve’s face softened, and he extended an arm, pulling you in for a warm, steady hug. You let yourself sink into the comfort he offered, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back as he muttered, “Good for you.”

As you pulled back, you felt a little lighter, the hurt still there but somehow dulled by the kindness of a friend who truly saw you. “Thanks, Stevie…for always being here.”

He smiled, giving you a gentle nudge. “You’ll be alright. You’re stronger than you know, you want me to walk you home?”

You smiled, of course he would offer Steve always was and always will be a gentleman “No im okay, i can make it just down the street, plus i got the warmth now” You laughed gesturing to his coat he gave you.

You could see the internal battle in his eyes of actually letting you walk home by yourself, you reached out placing your hand on his shoulder “Ill be fine okay?”

He sighed “Just text me as soon as you get home okay?”

“Of course”

“And i know how long it takes for you to get home from here, so i expect a text in no less than 7 minutes, got it?” His voice was stern

You saluted him “Yes sir” You shared a quiet look before he slipped back into the bar, leaving you with one last, reassuring smile. Taking a deep breath, you turned and started toward home, the streetlights casting soft glows on the sidewalk as you walked.

Tonight had broken something in you, but as you left, a strange sense of hope started to take its place. Maybe you really could let go. And next Saturday, maybe you’d start seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes — not as someone’s best friend, but as someone worth more than waiting and wishing.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #Spotify

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dreaming-of-lu · 11 months ago

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A thought that I shared with a couple of mutuals, cause I cannot shut up about Stardew Valley right now. Imma mix mash my favs together and make y'all spiral with me.

You, the only beloved grandchild of your grandfather, was given a letter by your grandfather who was on his last leg, filled with information regarding his left behind farm and cottage in your name. He told you when the day comes that when you've grown tired of the city and yearn for a life free from the shackles of the ever growing demand of corporates and nonstop hustle bustle. The farm and cottage will be waiting until you are ready. Years passed and of course, you become tired, exactly what your grandfather told you would. With no thoughts to spare to the city you left behind and little clothes on your back. Quitting your job, you head towards Pelican Town.

The mayor was friendly, save for the carpenter that definitely made you laugh until she made a jab at your grandfather's cottage. While you could agree, since it's honestly not much, yet you'll make do with what you got for now and add things on later. However, the slight pang went through your heart at the disrespect she gave to him. Before the mayor could set off, he highly encouraged you to introduce yourself to the entire town. He then goes over with you about the shipping container, what to put in there while handing you a sack filled with parsnip seeds. He also gestures to the tools he was able to get you that were sitting on the porch, with a wordless pat of good luck, he sets off down the road back to the town.

MEET OUR BACHELORS

First: Single (Bachelor)

Meeting First was quite quick since the man was known to be busy and quite on the run to get things done before heading back to the adventurer's guild that his great uncle runs. He was short in his greetings to you and apologized swiftly that he had to be somewhere.

It may not seem like it, but this man is definitely a poet with words. Chivalrous, that had his great uncle playfully rolling his eyes at his nephew.

Yet there's something underlying mysterious about him that drew you in to him. Perhaps you should gift him things and get to know him a little more better!

Sky: Single (Bachelor)

The eldest son of the carpenter! He lives down southeast of Lon Lon Ranch. He's the absolute sweetest person you've ever met in your entire life. The bright smile on his sleepy face had you mentally cooing at him.

He carves, paints, builds little bird houses just like what his mother use to do. He definitely decorates his home each time the season changes, it's so damn adorable.

He's single due to a breakup that did not end on good terms unfortunately. While he still respect her, however, there are things that were said that ended up hurting the other.

Four: Single (Bachelor)

The grandson of the blacksmith. He was working behind the counter when your fresh face entered the shop. Obviously, a little put off since not many people tend to flock to Pelican Town. He's a bit shy yet he makes small talk just to get to know you better. Until his grandfather emerged and the look on his face had him laughing.

Yeah, he ain't laughing anymore when his grandfather told him 'that's the kid you used to play with all the time when you were younger.'

He takes the tools you got and upgrades them or process the geodes that you tend to bring in.

Time: Single (Bachelor)

The working left hand man of Lon Lon Ranch. This man scared the absolute shit out of you when he showed up on your front porch that morning. To open a door to a towering, one eye, scarred man was not on your bingo card of shit you witness while living here.

He was straight to the point of who to come to when buying animals whenever you get your barn and coop up n going.

He's someone you want to be careful around, an anger you do not want aimed towards you. That mask you saw sitting on his belt felt ominous. He's hard to get warm up to.

Twilight: Single (Bachelor)

You were just planting the parsnip seeds when you heard a bark come from behind you and yelling from someone telling to 'Come back!' A black and white dog ran up on your porch with its tail wagging a mile a minute. A cute dirty blonde haired male came jogging up with an exasperated look before realizing you were the new farmer there.

He was embarrassed yet quickly introduced himself. The adopted son of Uli and Rusl's, the older brother to Colin and his soon to be born little sister. He also works at Lon Lon Ranch.

He's hiding something.

Hyrule: Single (Bachelor)

The doctor of the town. A shy sweetheart that introduced himself to you after you came in due to an already early incident on the farm. He scolds you gently for doing something stupid and rash.

May or may not have told you one day that he wasn't getting enough patients which affected his pay heavily.

Man has unprocessed trauma.

Wild: Single (Bachelor)

He runs the saloon, all by himself, save for his friend Flora does tend to come help him to keep things smooth and sailing when it gets packed. He was friendly enough to introduce himself to you when seeing you pass him on your way to Ravio's General Store.

He def encouraged you to take a load off once and awhile to relax in his Saloon.

He doesn't remember his old life, it seems like he doesn't want to either way.

Warriors: Single (Bachelor)

The older brother to Wind and Aryll. House is on the beach and he's dramatic as hell yet he comes in later on year 2 of your life on the farm. He introduced himself first thing in the morning and he's a bit stiff about it.

He's the only soldier(?) in Pelican Town and ties to the city, he seems so tired and run down honestly.

He's doing his absolute best to raise Wind and Aryll after the funeral of their grandmother.

Legend: Single (Bachelor)

The lone wizard that "summoned" you to his tower to gift you the language of the Junimos. Just to be able to easily translate the language and to fix up the community center.

His sassy attitude def threw you off yet he's standoffish. Only asking you of things he needed from the mines.

He seems to be mourning something.

Ravio: Single???

The owner of Ravio's General Store. The sight of his bunny ear hat sat upon his head was the first thing that caught your eyes. His eagerness to greet you while showing you the package of seeds he was given, showing off the wares he gotten.

The sight of his broken heart made yours clench when one of the workers of Joja mart came in and declared loudly that things were on sale for 50% off. He's trying his best, but the income is needed.

Is finding ways to take down Joja Mart

-TO BACHELORETTES (To be added at some point-

#linked universe x reader #.bea's writing #lu x reader #linkeduniverse x reader #linked universe #link x reader #lu time x reader #lu first x reader #lu legend x reader #lu sky x reader #lu four x reader #lu twilight x reader #lu warriors x reader #lu wild x reader #lu hyrule x reader #ravio x reader #loz x reader #loz link x reader

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