#lumberjack!au

[believemetheodore]

Northern Attitude pt. 2

Ted Lasso x Rebecca Welton

Divorce is hard. it doesn't matter if you're the one who got left, or you're the one doing the leaving. When an unexpected blizzard puts a dangerous twist in Ted's hiking adventures he's rescued by an axe-wielding, lumber-chopping, blonde angel. Oh, and there's only one bed. Warnings: divorce mentions, mentions of Ted's dad, snow storms, depictions of childhood injuries, broken bones (past), Rupert (mentioned), let me know if you want me to add anything.

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Ted remembers falling out of a tree when he was a kid--probably only eight or nine years old. He hadn’t made it very far up the tree, but he broke his arm anyway. For a minute he’d just laid there in the grass looking up at the canopy of green leaves above him. The shock of the fall had knocked the air from his lungs and he couldn’t call out for help. 

His mom had found him, and got him to the hospital to have his arm looked at. With all the adrenaline out of his system, it hurt a whole heck of a lot, but still, he was quiet; like all the fear, and hurt was trapped in his chest.

In the waiting room, his Ma just kept telling him he'd be alright, over and over again, like a mantra.

His dad was home from work when they got back, and Ted was allowed to have an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert. “So, what did ya learn today?” His father asked. “Not to climb trees,” Ted replied. “Nah,” his dad shook his head, “You just learned one wrong way to climb a tree”. When Ted got his cast taken off a couple of weeks later, he climbed right back up the same tree he’d fallen out of. He climbed almost every tree in the neighbourhood that summer. Ted’s never been a quitter. 

He knows he was lucky to grow up with parents as fantastic as his folks were. For all the growing pains, and the tragedy, he can say he actually had a really good childhood. He knows guys his age carrying around the weight of the world on their shoulders. They fight their own pasts, and shadowbox their childhoods, trying not to hand down their aches and heartbreaks to their own sons. Ted hopes he manages to only pass down the good things to his.

Henry broke his arm at school a while back and it nearly sent Ted into a panic. Henry took it in stride, excited to get his cast signed when he saw his friends. He got that from Michelle, his carefree nature. Ted's always been a  worrier. 

“Were you scared?” Ted asked Henry that night, tucking him into bed.

“Nope! My teacher said you and mom were coming to get me. It hurt a lot though”.

“How ya feeling now?”

Henry shrugged, “I don't know if football is the sport for me. I don't think I'm very good at sports”.

Ted hummed, weighing his son's words, “ya know, I broke my arm when I was your age. Fell outta tree. Thought I'd never climb a tree again”.

Henry grinned at his father's story, “did you?”

“Lots of ‘em. Your grandpa--my dad, reminded me that we all make mistakes. But a lot of times mistakes are just lessons on how not to do something,” Ted pauses, “don't stop doing something you enjoy. Just figure out a different way to do it”. 

“A different way to play football?”

Ted wasn't shocked by the question. He's always had the habit of letting his tongue get ahead of his thoughts. Words flow without thought, and even he's left piecing together their meaning. 

How do you play football differently? 

“They call soccer, football in England,” Ted floated the idea. 

“A different kind of football,” Henry nodded in the affirmative. 

When Ted's eyes flutter open again, the first thing he's aware of is the cold. Snow has found its way down the collar of his coat. And then he sees her, Diane Sawyer. 

Only in his dreams.

Is he dead? The thought crosses his mind. 

“Hello?” She says, “can you hear me?” 

Not Diane Sawyer. 

He groans trying to sit up.

“Woah, take it easy. That was quite the tumble you took,” the angel lady says, gently pushing on his chest to get him to lie down again. He doesn't fight it. 

“How's your head? Are you in any pain?” She asks. Oh, that's not an accent he's used to hearing.  

“Noggin feels fine,” he confirms. 

She nods, letting him sit up slowly, it's easier to breathe now. 

“What's your name?” 

“Ted Lasso”.

“It's nice to meet you Ted. I'm Rebecca Welton”. 

He hums, “it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms Welton. I gotta ask though, is that an English accent I'm hearing”.

He's got a lot of questions, come to think of it. How long was he out for? It's hard to tell just by looking at the sky, equally as grey as it was when he set out in the morning. The wind has died down, the ice rain seems to have calmed back down to playful flurries.

How far did he fall? He can't quite make out the top of the hill, but he must've fallen a fair distance. He hit something on the way down, that much he can feel for sure. His shoulder throbs, but a cursory movement confirms that it's not broken or dislocated.

She smiles softly, almost as if it's in spite of herself, “Rebecca, please. Ms Welton is my father. But, to answer your question, I'm from London, yes”. 

“If that's a joke I love it. If not, I can't wait to unpack that with you,” Ted chuckled as she helps him to his feet. 

Goly, she's tall. It's hard to tell in the snow but she's nearly as tall as he is. She's not wearing a heavy winter coat, and yet here he is shivering in his. 

A pair of jeans, sturdy-looking boots, a cable knit sweater in the softest shade of pink, and a Sherpa-lined flannel. He looks around but can't see a backpack other than his own, a few feet away.

“Are you hiking here too?” He lets himself wonder aloud.

“No, I live here. I work here,” she tells him, “come along-- the snow has slowed down, but there's sure to be more of it, and I have absolutely no interest in catching a cold”. 

Rebecca's cabin is bigger than the one Ted stayed in last night, but it's nowhere near large. It's rustic by nature but decidedly comfortable-- lived in. It's clear she's made the place her own. 

The glow of a dimming fire casts a warm orange glow over the room, but blow glass wall sconces do most of the illumination work. There's a sitting area with a large leather sofa, softened by the chunky knit blanket draped over the back of it. A high-back armchair sits nearer to the fireplace. Across the room, is a small open kitchen, sage green cabinets, and a butcher block island. There's a baby pink kettle on the gas stove, and a quick sniff of the air smells like warm lemon. 

There's a bathroom at the end of a short corridor. Unlike the camper accommodations, this cabin has a staircase that Ted assumes leads up to the sleeping area. 

Ted accepts Rebecca's offer to take his coat from him, watching as she hangs it next to her own. He follows her lead toeing off his boots and setting them on the mat by the door. 

“Make yourself at home, get yourself warmed up,” she nods towards the fire. 

He does as he's told, lowering himself into the chair. He's beginning to feel the aftermath of his falls, tender spots all over his back and limbs he's sure will be black and blue tomorrow if they aren't already. His shoulder throbs but he pushes down the hiss of pain, finding a comfortable enough position to rest in.

“I really appreciate you takin’ me in like this,” Ted speaks for the first time since he entered her home, “I've read far too many online articles about people getting buried in avalanches-- most certainly how I'd like to go”.

“It's really not a problem,” she cuts his rambling short, putting the kettle on to boil again, “how do you take your tea?”

“I don't”.

She looks startled, borderline appalled for a moment before she speaks again, “sometimes I forget I'm the one with an accent here. Hot cocoa?” She tries again. 

“Ooh, yes please!” 

The drink warms him from the inside out. Conjuring images of winter's past. And it's easy to relax, breathing deeply and settling into the sound of the resumed inclement weather outside, and Rebecca shuffling around the kitchen. 

She checks over his injuries again. Still no sign of a concussion, and she clears him to sleep tonight. He can see the irony in the fact that this trip was one he was supposed to take alone, but he's never been one to turn away from making new friends. 

He sleeps on the couch, wrapped up in his sleeping bag, nice and cozy by the fire. 

The moonlight wakes him, trickling through the window. A quick glance outside shows him that the front porch and steps have been completely snowed over. The blanket of snow is a good foot deeper than yesterday, and he resigns himself to know he won't be getting back on the trail today. 

It's about a quarter after four when he checks his watch and he knows he's not getting back to sleep. He's been haunted by bouts of insomnia, and lack of sleep on and off his whole life; it's only gotten worse in the last year and a half. 

The first time he remembers it happening he was 16, about to turn 17. He'd gone from feeling like the whole world was his to explore, with a big exciting life ahead of him, to feeling like every room he walked into was collapsing around his ears. 

As a kid, he'd seen people lose people. Watched his parents and friends process loss. 

He'd been too young when his grandparents passed away to fully understand or process the grief, but he can remember his Ma crying in the kitchen, her face hidden in his father's chest. 

He'd had friends at school who had family pass away. When he was 13 or 14 the family dog Hank had to get out to sleep. Ted had cried himself to sleep that night. He'd lost one of his bestfriends. But none of that could've prepared him for the death of his own father. 

It had taken him months to accept that he needed help sleeping. The sound of a gun shoot ringing in his ears every time he closed his eyes. He ended up having to take medication for a couple of years to combat his insomnia. 

It hasn't been that bad in years, but stress still triggers him, leaving him waking at all hours, or staring at a ceiling waiting for a dreamland he knows isn't coming. 

Ted has learned to cope. He's found things that keep his hands and mind occupied. Today he bakes. He hopes that his socked footsteps on the floorboards are silent to a sleeping Rebecca upstairs, and he prays that his creations are enough to cancel out any potential intrusion or overstep as he makes himself at home in her tiny kitchen. 

He scrapes together enough flour, butter, and sugar to bake a batch of shortbread cookies, following the recipe he's had memorized since he was old enough to help out in the kitchen. 

The sun is just starting to peek through the curtain of the clouds when he pulls the cookies out the oven, letting them cool while he makes breakfast. He can hear her moving around upstairs now, and it only makes him smile, excited to present her with the delicious little biscuits, as she'd probably call them, he's crafted. 

The moment Ted had laid eyes on her, he trusted Rebecca. Kindred spirits almost. A meeting of fate. His father always told him, “there are a lot of people in this world. A lot of people you'll love, but for better or for worse there are some people you'll just know you were meant to meet”. 

Ted holds that philosophy close to his heart. He was always meant to be friends with Beard. Ted was meant to be a father, and he was certain he loved Henry king before he even existed.

In a lot of ways meeting Michelle felt like destiny. The only two people in the parking lot late at night. What were the odds? 

Separating from Michelle, and getting a divorce had felt like a stab straight to the heart. It challenged what he had always believed in. If he was meant to know her, then how could he lose her?

He chooses now to see it as a lesson. He sees now how he had a hunk himself down and held himself back to love her. They didn't fit together the way they should have. But loving her had taught him to see the good in the world again. Without Michelle, Ted wouldn't know Henry. And with that perspective he's learned to be grateful. 

This vacation, this hike, the snow, and his fall all lead him here. When he opened his eyes and saw Rebecca with her blonde hair and green eyes he'd labeled her an angel. She'd rescued him from more than just the snow. 

And now, as he scrambles eggs, and fries up some bacon, Ted knows he's more at ease than he has been in months. There's an instant familiarity, he wants to explore. He was meant to know Rebecca. 

“Did you make these?” Rebecca asks pointing at the perfect rectangular shortbread pieces on the counter. 

“Sure did!” Ted smiles, plating breakfast for the two of them, “I couldn't sleep, and I wanted to say thank you”.

She hesitated before lifting one to take a bite, and he watches eagerly. 

“Fuck me,” she mumbles, her fingers catching the escaping crumbs. Her eyes light up in a way he hasn't seen yet. Like a kid at Christmas, pure and genuine joy, and Ted can't help but wonder when she last felt this way. She shys away after her initial outbursts, as though she's embarrassed herself somehow. 

Ted's eyebrows shoot up and he allows himself to chuckle, “I've got some breakfast here for you as well”.

“You didn't have to, Ted. Thank you”.

“It was the least I could do,” he shrugs.

After breakfast, Ted showers, taking advantage of the hot water, and the superior water pressure. He layers up, putting a flannel over his thermal shirt, long johns under his jeans. 

Rebecca told him while they ate that she needed more firewood, and he was expected to help. It's been years since he chopped wood. The last time was probably one of his camping trips with his dad but he's beyond happy to be of use, especially if he's stranded here for at least another day. 

Rebecca is tall, strong, and powerful. Dressed in a navy blue snowsuit, her hair down in natural curls, contained only by her wool hat. She carries her ax on her shoulder, smirking at Ted's jokes about ax murders-- he's been watching too much true crime lately. 

There's a tree that's already been toppled and she quickly gets to work chopping away at the section that will be split into firewood. 

Definitely an angel.

 The forrest is beautiful. Even more stunning in the valley they stand in now, looking up at the hills, evergreen pines, dusted white. It’s silent, every sound muffled by the snow. Indescribably peaceful, and the company hes found himself in only adds to it. A part of him wishes he could stay here forever. 

When he takes over chopping the wood, his hand brushing hers as the ax changes hands, he distracts himself from the burn in unused muscles by asking Rebecca how a lovely English woman such as herself ended up in the American wilderness. 

“My friend from college, I call her Sassy, she’s an ecologist. And after I got divorced, I followed her out here with her daughter to help with some research she was doing,” Rebecca explains, stacking the firewood on the tiny sled she’d dragged out. 

He can tell by the way she hesitates to mention her divorce that it was probably pretty messy. Her shoulders drop, and he hates the way she makes herself smaller. “And you just stayed behind?” He asks, encouraging her to continue. He wants to know her.

“I fell in love with this place. I went home, but I kept coming back here. Hiked all the trails, saw all the sights. And then there was an opening for a summer guide and park coordinator. I took it”. “I bet you’re good at it,” Ted smiles, not missing the way she blushes. “I enjoy it. It’s a lot of kids, and families in the summer. And the coordination is mostly clerical,” she shrugs off the compliment. The ax back over her shoulder as they walk. 

She’s looking at him, watching him as they retrace their boot prints back to the cabin. He lets her have her moment, and ignores the way he’s cheeks feel warm under her gaze. 

Ted makes dinner. He takes his time cooking up stake and potatoes, getting Rebecca to help out cutting up carrots and root vegetables. Her laughter he’s learned is one of his favourite sounds, and he goes out of his way to do it. Rebecca is the most intoxicating mix of grace, and absolute silliness. She glows when she smiles, and it melts his heart. She dances through the kitchen as she twists the cork out of a bottle of wine, thrilled as she pours them each a glass. 

“This is by far the best dinner I’ve had in ages,” she sighs, starring down at her empty plate. “I appreciate you sayin’ that. It was the least I could do”. She shakes her head, at his refusal of her compliment, “I mean it”. “I know you do,” he smiles. 

The room is quiet, the crackle of the fireplace seems so loud when all he can hear is their breathing. “Rupert-- my ex. He was a real piece of shit,” Rebecca swallows before continuing, “And when I left him, I thought that all I really wanted was to be alone”. 

Ted nods. He can understand that mentality, though it saddens him to hear it. She’s so full of life, so vibrant, imagining her spending her days without anyone sharing in that joy breaks his heart. “It seems silly, saying it out loud, but even in this short amount of time, I feel like I’ve known you forever, Ted,” She confesses, “And at the risk of sounding cruel, or selfish, I’m glad you feel down that hill”. Ted can’t stop his laughter, “Rebecca, I have never been happier to have made a fool of myself”. 

#Ted lasso #ted lasso x rebecca welton #ted x rebecca #tedbecca #lumberjack!Au #lumberjack!rebecca #ted lasso fanfic

[bucky-barnes-lover]

Kinktober day 17: Henry Cavill

Lumberjack! Henry Cavill x Wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, Poorly written Oral (m receiving), Slight Praise kink, Slight Size kink

W.C: 653

The sound of wood being cut echoed around the tin shed. I stood in the doorway watching my husband cutting up firewood.

"Dinner's almost ready" I yelled to him, over the noise.

"I'll be inside in a minute, love" He responded. His silky british accent sent shivers down my spine.

"Okay. I'll set the table." I responded, feeling my face heat up. I could tell Henry was smirking as he watched me walk away. He knows I get all flustered when he calls me Love.

I could hear him chopping a couple more blocks of wood as I made my way inside our cozy cabin, out in the forest.

The table was set and dinner was laid out on the table.

"Could you please put some more wood on the fire, Baby" I asked him as he brought in the sack of wood and placed it near the fireplace.

"Yep. Was just about to do that." Henry grunted as he kneeled down to place more wood on the flames.

"What's for dinner, Love?" He questioned as I took his bowl.

"Shepherd's pie, Your favorite" I advised seeing his face lit up with a huge smile.

We had dinner in peace, complete with a glass of red wine and small talk.

Henry offered to do the dishes as I went for a shower.

I lay on our bed, cozy in my silk pajamas and the warm fluffy blanket.

Henry came out of the bathroom, shirtless with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

I inhaled, my heart stuck in my throat. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling the wetness.

"Cat got your tongue Love?" Henry asked as he saw my reaction. He was undeniably big underneath all those clothes and not just his height.

"I want you to fuck me" I whispered, without thinking twice.

"What was that love?" He smirked,

"I want you to fuck me, Henry" I stated, sounding a lot more stubborn than I thought.

"My dear girl gets all wet and turned on when she sees her man, so much bigger than her" He mocked, removing the towel from around his waist.

His huge cock sprung free. Hard and ready, I got on my knees without question and wrapped my hands around him. Spreading the precum along his cock before taking him in my mouth. Henry let out an animalistic growl while I worked my tongue around him. Taking him even further in my mouth, gagging a couple times but never once backing out.

"Fuck love. You feel so good" He moaned as he grabbed a handful of my hair and started thrusting into my mouth.

Drool seeped down my chin onto my pj's, moans escaped my lips. Finally I let him out of my mouth with a 'pop'.

Before I could comprehend what was going on, Henry picked me up and threw me on the bed, sliding my pajama shorts and panties down my legs.

"You were a good girl just now. Continuing being the good girl I taught you to be" He growled before sliding his thick cock through my folds. I didn't even have time to adjust to his size before he started thrusting in and out of me. Feeling me up so good, causing me to scream his name.

"Fuck Henry" I moaned as he worked himself in and out.

"Don't cum until I tell you to. Understand that Love?" He questioned, staring me dead in the eye. I nodded pathetically, basically begging for release. Henry started rubbing my clit with his thumb.

I felt myself coming closer to my orgasm, but just as I was about to cum, Henry pulled out of me. Leaving me feeling suddenly empty.

"Why'd you do that for Hen?!" I asked angrily. He just smirked in response. "Because the only way I'm going to let you cum is by my tongue." He replied coldly.

And that was how it ended.

NOT PROOF READ!!!

Please re blog if u do like it, I really appreciate all the support

#marvel fanfiction #dc fanfic #henry cavill x yn #henry cavill #henry cavil x reader #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill smut #lumberjack #lumberjack au #au #henry cavill au #fanfiction #kinktober day 17

[jobean12-blog]

Cozy in Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Lumberjack AU)

Word Count: 1,572

Summary: Your man is the best way to keep warm when it's cold outside.

Author's Note: Just a bit of domestic lumberjack fluff and a bit of blantant oogling because let's be honest, if I had a Joel Miller lumberjack to stare at all day I WOULD! My daydreams are getting me through these days so I'm just sharing them. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely Daisy, thank you @firefly-graphics

Warnings: soft and sweet and cuddly and flirty and fun

Joel Miller Masterlist

His soft hair slips between your fingers as you mindlessly run them through his messy curls. He’s been asleep for the past hour, his head nestled in your lap, keeping you warm as you read your book.

Your hand moves down the back of his neck, lightly scratching before you slide your fingers along the edge of his beard. When your fingertips graze his lips, he extends them for a soft kiss and then grabs your wrist, holding your hand to his mouth as he presses kisses to your palm.

His eyes remain closed but his dark lashes flutter against his cheeks as he slowly wakes.

“Hey darlin’,” he murmurs with a small stretch.

You lean forward and kiss the back of his hand that’s holding yours. “Hi,” you whisper. “Have a good nap?”

“Mm,” he hums as his hand lifts and his warm fingers grasp the back of your neck to pull you closer.

After a sweet kiss he releases you and slowly sits up.

When you lock eyes your mouth turns up in a smirk as you take him in.

“What?” he asks, rubbing his hand over his face.

You giggle.

“Darlin’,” he grumbles and falls forward, wrapping you in his arms and taking you with him as he lays back down.

He stares down at you, now trapped under the weight of his body, and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Your hair,” you state and squeeze your lips together to try and stop more laughter.

“What about it?” he asks.

You reach up and pat some of the strands that are sticking straight up while pulling at the curly ones.

“If it looks a mess it’s your fault,” he says.

“I like it,” you whisper.

“Good, because we have to get to the store before the storm hits or you aren’t gonna have any snacks for the next few days. And I don’t feel like fixing my hair.”

“But Joeeeelllll,” you whine. “It’s cold out. And you’re so warm and cuddly.”

You tug him closer and nuzzle your face into his neck. “I don’t want to go,” you mumble into his skin.

“I can go myself darlin’. You stay here and keep warm.”

“NO!” you squeak. “It’s never warm enough without you.”

He pulls away and his eyes wander over your face. He’s clearly trying to figure out a way to make you happy and before he can offer more suggestions you sigh and say, “ok, ok, let’s go and get it over with so we can come home and I can get warm again.”

He gets up and starts to unbutton his flannel. You watch as his long fingers work open each button and reveal more of his skin.

“If this is your way to motivate me to leave the house you’re doing it all wrong,” you breathe out.

“It’s for you to wear while we’re out,” he says with a wink.

Once he has it off he drapes it over your shoulders and slips just out of your reach as you grab for him.

“If you start touchin’ me…,” he says with a warning look. “We’ll never get out of here and then when you’re hungry and we’re out of snacks we’ll both be in trouble.”

You huff as you dramatically push your arms through the sleeves of his flannel. “FINE!”

You can hear his chuckle as he disappears into the bedroom to get another shirt.

When you’re bundled up and buckled in the pick-up truck you head into town to the store. The parking lot is busy considering everyone is preparing for incoming inclement weather.

“They better have some good stuff left!” you pout.

Joel gives you a lopsided smile before he hops out of the truck and comes around to open your door. You slide out and into his arms.

“Come on darlin’, we’ll make this as quick as possible.”

You nod and snuggle under his arm.

As you make your way down the aisles and peruse the shelves, Joel pushes the cart, his smile growing with each snack you add.

“We should definitely get cookies…because cookies…and definitely some chips, and I want to get the ingredients to make muffins…and let’s make soup!”

You ramble on with your list but Joel remains silent, listening and keeping his smile.

“Think that’s enough?” you ask with a sigh of relief.

He stops in the aisle along the shelves of sugar and spice. “Perfect darlin,” he smirks, his eyes intense.

“What?” you ask with a suspicious glare.

“What nothin’,” he says as he leans over the bar of the shopping cart. “Just thinkin’ about how beautiful you are and how I can’t wait to spend the next few days stuck in the house with you.”

“Oh,” you say as his sweet words wash over you like a warm caress. “I can’t either.”

Back at the cabin he unloads the truck and ushers you inside.

“I’m just going to put these away then we can get right back on the couch,” you tell him as you practically skip into the kitchen.

“While you do that I’m gonna go chop the last of the wood darlin’. We don’t have much left and if the power goes out we’ll want a fire.”

“Are you saying you aren’t enough to keep me warm at night Joel Miller?”

Your response is dripping with sass and you waggle your eyebrows.

Your words stop him dead and his hands land on his hips as his jaw sets into a firm line.

“Is that a challenge?” he shoots back.

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“Mm, alright then darlin’. Forget the wood.”

You drag your bottom lip over your teeth before you quietly add, “but I love to watch you chop wood.”

His head drops toward his chest and his shoulders shake with his chuckle before he grabs his suspenders that hang over the hook on the coat rack.

“WAIT!” you shout as you round the island and rush to him. “Let me.”

The side of his mouth tilts up into a boyish smirk and he hands you the suspenders.

You reach over his head and put the band around his neck, flattening the material against his broad shoulders as you smooth the straps down his chest.

“Turn around,” you say softly.

He does as you ask and you clip the back part onto his jeans and then with a squeeze of his butt you turn him back around.

“Couldn’t resist,” you giggle.

“Don’t mind at all darlin’,” he winks.

When the front clips are secured onto his jeans you grab the two straps and tug him forward, meeting his lips half way for a kiss.

His hands settle on your waist and slip under your shirt.

“That’ll keep me warm…for now,” he murmurs against your lips.

When you break apart he starts for the door and you rush toward the front window and push aside the curtains.

“Hurry! The sun is going to set soon and I won’t be able to see!”

He shakes his head, his exasperation clearly feigned by the sparkle in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t want that now would we darlin’,” he murmurs.

“No…this is like foreplay.”

His eyes go dark as he holds your gaze and with one last grind of his teeth he opens the door and steps outside.

You press yourself to the glass, unperturbed by its coolness and stare as he saunters over to the woodpile. His profile is silhouetted by the last rays of the low hanging sun and when he starts to roll up the sleeves of his flannel you sigh dreamily.

When his forearms are free of the fabric he bends over to wrap his large hands around the handle of the axe. His warm breath comes out in wisps of condensed air before he rears back and takes one full swing to the piece of wood.

It splits in two with a crack and the pieces thud to the ground.

A moan slips past your lips and you wiggle on your feet, waiting for him to gear up for the next swing. You watch him take swing after swing, the pile of chopped wood growing with every passing minute.

When he gets to the last piece he rests it on the tree stump and then sets his axe down against it. He reaches in the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out his handkerchief, wiping his brow and the back of his neck.

He wraps it around his hand then reaches for the axe again. The last piece of wood splits just as the sun reaches the horizon and he begins to gather as many pieces as he can carry.

He turns toward the cabin, walking slowly with arms laden with chunks of wood, his corded forearms flexing and his jeans pulled tightly over his powerful thighs.

A gust of wind moves across the yard and blows his hair over his forehead and the collar of his shirt spreads open even wider, exposing more of his muscled neck.

Your whole body is thrumming and before he reaches the porch you’re at the door and holding it open. He strides past you and sets the wood down by the fireplace.

“That should do it,” he says as he wipes his hands.

His eyes sweep over you from head to toe as he wears a perfectly smug smile, knowing full well he’s got you hotter than any fire ever could.

@hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @lizette50

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #lumberjack!joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #lumberjack au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the wood

lilac, chapter twelve

a/n: *the author's note equivalent of just ✨moaning✨*

summary: the sight that beheld you once you stepped out onto the porch had all of the air slip out of your lungs all at once.

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, chopping wood, kissing, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, belly bulge, outdoor sex, oral, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, squirting, mirror sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (because this is just porn. no one is getting pregnant, I’m just craving the intimacy. let them be hoes and live out the fantasy)

word count: 5200

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Stirring awake with a gentle groan, your arm extended in search of the body beside you. Finding nothing but linens, your eyes groggily blinked open to discover that no one else was in the bed but yourself.

Tugging your arm back under your frame, you sighed and let your front sink further into the mattress, your cheek buried itself deeper into the pillow just a moment longer before you pushed yourself up to a sitting position.

Swinging your legs over the side, you reached for the grey woollen socks you’d kicked off in the middle of the night. As you slipped them back onto your feet, your gaze caught your reflection in the round rattan-framed mirror hanging on the opposing wall.

Letting your eyes linger, turning your head from side to side, you made sure that the recently faded bruises hadn’t somehow returned to haunt you of what had occurred. But thankfully, all you saw was skin. No marks, no scrapes, no bruises, nothing physical to remind you of Preston. 

Getting up, you caught the muted dark brown flannel that hung by the collar from one of the dresser’s knobs, and shrugged it on, doing up the buttons so the borrowed shirt covered you further. 

Pitter-pattering out into the small kitchen, you turned on the tap and reached for a glass, swiftly filling it up for a refreshing sip. 

As you lowered the drink from your lips, a satisfying cracking noise from somewhere outside found your ears and your gaze flickered to the cabin’s front door. 

The sight that beheld you once you stepped out onto the porch had all of the air slip out of your lungs all at once.

Just a little ways off from the hut stood Frank by a wide and sturdy stump, split wood littering around his feet as he repeatedly let the long axe in his grasp come down upon the piece balanced on the reliable base. 

Utterly hypnotised, your feet hazily carried you across the porch till your fingers were gripping onto the railing. Clad in a simple grey undershirt, the sight of the prominent veins in his arms bulging, straining at every violent hack till the thick log split, caused your brain to melt, and the fact that the hem slightly rose every time as well didn’t help matters either. 

Each one of his precise swings conjured a laboured huff that sounded way too close to how he had been panting in your ear just last night. Occasionally, small curses too slipped through his puffs whenever the wood he worked on got particularly stubborn, and every time, without a doubt, you felt your cunt clench.

As one log split, forcefully crashing to either side, he picked up a new one, but before he could crack it open, he rested the axe a second against his leg while he let a dollop of spit fall from his panting lips to his calloused palms, rubbing it in for better traction before he picked up the axe once more. 

Tingles pricked and tickled every nerve in your body as his sinful display eventually came to a close. The soft sunlight that streamed through the treetops caught a glint of the sweat gleaming on the part of his rapidly rising and falling chest that peaked out of the neckline of his tank, dabbling his skin like diamonds. 

Wedging his axe into the base stump, you continued to stare as Frank caught his breath and bent over to gather up the wood into the wide woven basket that too was at his feet, his gaze swiftly spotting your dazed form, nearly drooling at this point. 

“Oh, hey,” he smiled, offering you a small wave as he tossed a few pieces of firewood into the crate. 

“Huh?” still in a trance, you blinked, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as your thighs squeezed together in an attempt at soothing the persistent pulse that now throbbed between them. 

“You’re up.”

“Yep, I–, uhm, I am,” you shook your head, trying and failing to clear it, “morning.”

“I’m sorry,” he picked up the heavy basket, “did I wake you?”

“Nope, no, you didn’t,” you let a sinful exhale as he climbed the steps of the porch. Redirecting your gaze elsewhere as he set the firewood down, you stared out at the forest and coughed, “there, uh, sure are a lot of birds out today.”

“Hm,” the porch creaked beneath his boots as he neared where you stood, “is that what you were staring at?”

“Yeah, why, did you not think I was? Was there something else going on here in the forest that could possibly capture my attention other than mother nature herself?” you joked, knowing full well how obvious the truth was, “I am Dunbrook’s resident birdwatcher after all.”

“Sure, you are,” a shiver ran down your spine as his deep voice rumbled in your ear. Wrapping his burly arms around your waist, you leaned back into his warmth as he gently checked, “how are you feeling today?”

“I’m alright, pretty good actually,” you answered the question he had formed a habit of asking you every morning you’d stayed here, “I slept quite well, so that always helps things,” turning in his embrace to face him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and wondered, “how long have you been up?”

“Not long,” his gaze traced yours, following as it yearningly flickered down to his mouth.

“You hungry?” 

Drawing you in closer, you heard him utter, “fucking starving…” before he captured your lips in a kiss. 

A little dazed from how rapidly the simple peck escalated, you pulled back to politely pant, “oh, yeah? What are you in the mood for?”

Flashing you a smirk, he cocked his head and said, “what do you think I wanna eat?” and if his tone didn’t manage to squash any ounce of doubt you had that he wasn’t in fact talking about food, the sensation of his hands sinking down to palm your bottom though the flannel made it crystal clear.

“Frank,” you giggled as his fingertips discovered your lack of underwear. 

“What?” you watched as he slowly sank down onto his knees before you, “is what a no?” his eyes stayed glued to yours as his beard tickled your thigh. 

“No,” your legs gently wiggled further apart, letting him spot the glint of your want that had dripped down your inner thighs.

“No, it’s not a no, or no, you’re in the mood for something else?” you sucked in a sharp breath as his ghosting touch teased your goosebump-ridden legs, “because I think we still have a bit of bread left or there might be some leftovers in the fridge.” 

Losing track of all of the metaphors through the fuzzy haze his teasing touch set you in, you mumbled, “I–, what?” and a small whine then fell from your lips, “fuck… Frank, I–… can you just–, please?”

“I can do a lot of things, sweetheart,” he pressed a peck to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, “what do you want me to do?”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, an airy chuckle flowing from your lips as you threw you head back and gazed up at the fluffy clouds visible above the rusty roof, “you’re such an ass.”

“Ah, I can be a lot worse, don’t you worry,” his devilish hands slithered up to your bottom and lightly raked his short fingernails over each cheek.

You sounded downright pathetic as you pleaded, “can you please–,“ but his playful tone cut you off before it flourished into a full sentence.

“Yeah?”

Blinking down at him, you desperately hiked the oversized shirt further up and asked, “…eat me out?”

Grin growing wider, he didn’t hesitate before diving in. Cracking you further open for him, he hoisted your left thigh up onto his broad shoulder and buried his face in your want. Holding you steady with one hand digging into your ass and the other firm at your hip, he zealously parted your petals and felt your pulse pound against his eager tongue.

As he then brazenly sucked down on your clit, your fingers sought out his dark hair, gripping it tight as your eyes fluttered, “oh my god, tha-that feels so good!”

With your brows tightly knitted together, as your eyes blinked down to meet his ever-unwavering gaze, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting go at a record-breaking time, the show you had imbibed in earlier not aiding in drawing your conclusion out. Trembling above, your legs tried to close around him, but the sensation of your thighs pressing against his thick skull didn’t face him one bit as he only held you tighter and kept up his keen kisses. 

Back arched against the railing, your chest rose and fell rapidly as Frank twisted his head to place pecks along your inner thigh, the soft flutter only issued a stubborn clench to your cunt in desire for more. 

Hooking your grip in the fabric of his shirt, you pulled him back up and desperately crashed your lips against his, feeling your desire sodden in his beard and tasting your adoration on his tongue. 

“Alright,” he dreamily disconnected from your needy kiss, “but seriously now,” he drew in a methodical breath through his nose as if in an attempt to calm his own desires down enough before he asked, “what do you want for breakfast?” clearly assuming that the morrow coitus wouldn’t go any further. 

Puffing out a hazy grin, you simply let your palm drop to the tent in his trousers and leaned back in to utter against his lips, “I don’t care what’s for breakfast,” your touch tightened insistently over the clear imprint of his desire, “just shut up and fuck me.”

A silent and amazed laugh slipped out past his lips as you tugged at his waistband, “yes, ma’am,” stealing one last kiss before he spun you back around. Grasping onto the railing, your hazy gaze washed over the idyllic scenery as you felt Frank free his length and sweep it through your dripping folds, nudging persistently against your pearl before gliding down to catch your entrance with his tip. 

The morning sunlight dazzled in the lake beyond, glittering and flickering just like the sparks that buzzed inside of you. 

Giving you just an inch, you felt your forms sigh in unison, your breaths harmoniously synced in satisfaction.

“Did I tell you how good you look in my shirt?” his low timbre crackled in your ear like a warm fire as he slowly rolled his hips, deliberately taking his time, letting you worship every maddening detail of his cock, “because you do,” you felt his palms snake up to squeeze your tits through the flannel, “feel free to steal them any time you want.”

Mouth agape, your head fell back against his chest as shaky moans slipped out at every unhurried rock to his hips. 

“You sure it’s not the lack of anything underneath that you like so much?” you grinned, your hips rolling back against his deliberate efforts.

“Well, I’m certainly not complaining about that part,” he chuckled and pressed his lips to your neck, “I think you might be able to get me to do anything you wish dressed exactly like this.” 

“Oh yeah?” your giggle broke up your moans, “anything I wish?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed gravelly, his fingers nimbly undoing a few of the buttons and granting his grasp access to slip in and seep across your tingly flesh, “fucking anything…”

Sinking in deeper with every gentle thrust, your left hand lowered and began to draw tight circles over your clit as the other’s grip tightened around the railing, your nails leaving crescent-shaped imprints in the raw wood. 

But when his lips began to wander across the side of your neck in a way that made you feel as if he was kissing every millimetre of your body, that’s when you felt your legs begin to tremble once more. The intensity of his slow pace began to grow within you, nearly being too much for you to take, so when his fingers sought out your pebbly nipples in a dizzying pinch, that’s when your frame jerked, Frank’s throbbing girth sliding out of you from just how hard you were squeezing down on him, and as your front collided with the fence, your fingertips furiously kept up their pace and kept your orgasm going, convulsing for all of the flora and fauna to see. 

Leaning with your folded-up arms against the top of the banister, Frank’s burly arms, which were still enveloped around you, tightened as you felt the warmth of his front melt against your curved spine. Letting one of your hands drop, it swiftly found his and weaved itself with it as you drew it up higher to press it against your thumping heart. Though when your pulse began to calm, you raised your tangled fingers further, all the way up so that your lips could press against the back of his palm. 

As you slowly unfurled your form, your fluttery kisses gently danced up his arm till you found yourself facing him once more with your lips attached to his collarbone. 

His bulbous tip leaked against the few buttons that were still fastened on the shirt you wore and his wide palms slid down past your waist to knead your bottom and draw you that much closer. 

Shuffling your feet, you gently pushed against his brick house of a frame for him to shift as well. Backing up, you crossed the short width of the porch till the back of Frank’s knees bumped into the solid bench that sat flush against the exterior wall. As he buckled and planted himself on it, it only took half a second for you to curl into his lap.  

Grabbing the sides of your face and bringing you into a sloppy kiss, you snaked a hand down between your frames and seized his dick. A low moan vibrated against your tongue as you raised up your hips and rubbed his hardness against your slick a moment before slowly sinking down, his lips falling from yours as you did so. Gazing back at him through your lashes, you saw as his eyes stayed shut, his mouth hung agape and his head gently fell back against the wall, the sensation of your warmth enveloping him evidently rocking him to his very core. 

Gliding your grasp into place over his broad shoulders, you slowly drew your hips up before easing back down, all the while taking in every little micro-reaction you stirred on your partner's face. 

“Christ, you feel so good,” he groaned, hazily peeling his eyelids open to blink back at you with a stary gaze, “so fucking warm,” he leaned back in a murmured against your lips, “and wet...”

One of your elbows bent and curled the remainder of the limb over his head, your fingers weaving into his short waves as you slowly nuzzled your nose against his, gently sweeping from side to side and sharing his hot breath as you leisurely bounced in his lap. 

Keeping one of his palms glued to your hot cheek, the other one drifted down to undo the last remaining buttons, freeing your tits completely. His gaze lowered to watch them sway with your slow movements, the open flannel now akin to a curtain flowing next to the soft peaks. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, holding you close as his dark brows knitted together, “if you keep going like that, you’ll make me cum.”

“Good,” you panted as you too felt the end near once more. With your forehead pressed to his, you shakily rode him, keeping up the same leisurely pace, feeling every single part of him intoxicatingly stretch you out, till his groans grew louder and his eyes screwed shut, digging his fingers into your hair as his length twitched inside of you and you creamed all over his cock, your amalgamation mingling and becoming indistinguishable from one another’s euphoric juices. 

Burying your features in the crook of his neck, your breaths came in ragged as you felt how tightly your cunt was clenching around him. But nevertheless, you simply stayed there, frozen atop of him and with his softening girth still embedded deep within you.

“Oh my god,” you groaned light-heartedly into his skin, “you fucking dick.”

“What?” he chuckled warmly in your ear. 

“No, it’s just,” you huffed out laboured breaths as you hazily explained, “you made me cum so hard and now I feel like a fucking virgin…” but when his reaction was to try and pluck you off of him, a sharp hiss escaped your lips, “no, no!” your arms tightened around his neck, “stay, stay,” your alarming tone was softened by a shuttering whimper.

Seizing your cheek, he gingerly drew you back for him to take in your fuzzy expression, “oh, you want me to stay?” he smiled at the pout that had formed on your lips, and a sluggish nod tipped your head at his playful tone, “alright,” he tilted his chin and pressed a kiss to the edge of your hairline, “I can stay.” 

“It’s dumb,” you murmured as you felt his pecks flutter down your face, “but I’m just kinda scared that if you pull out I’ll just somehow close up completely.”

“You won’t,” a soft chuckle rumbled within his chest as he neared your lips, “don’t worry, I’ll help you if it ever comes to that.”

Tilting your chin, you pressed your lips to his, your tongue swiftly swooping in to dance lazily against his own. 

Goosebumps erupted across your skin as you felt his touch lightly ghost all along your spine, caressing up and down the length of you as your kiss grew sloppy. 

As you noticed your sensitive pussy begin to relax, so too did you sense when Frank’s cock, which previously hadn’t gone completely soft yet, began to swell within you, the sensation making your hips instinctively grind down against him as the sensation consumed you. 

And with his lips never leaving yours, a light squeak escaped your lungs as Frank suddenly rose to his feet, scooping you with him, his fat cock all the while still staying warm within you. 

As his slow stride carried you back inside, your gaze was hazy as his kisses migrated down your neck, but when you passed the kitchen, your eyes snapped back open, “wait,” you stopped him and his lips detached from your pounding pulse, a string of saliva still keeping him connected to where a lavender love mark had begun to bloom, “I’m thirsty! I still–,” keeping one arm hooked around his neck, you carefully pointed to the half-full glass still on the counter, “my water is right over there.”

With one hand under your bottom and the other clasped at your waist, he redirected his steps and walked over to the small open kitchen. Once he reached the counters, a sly smirk seeped across his features as he commanded, “hold on tighter,” and as you did, his grip then shifted and let go of your side to grasp the glass of water.

“You know, you could just put me down,” you chuckled as he lifted the drink up to your lips, carefully tilting it and granting you a sip.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” his coffee gaze stayed fast on your lips as you drank. When you tipped your head back to halt the flow, a little droplet escaped the corner of your mouth, rolled down your chin and all the way to your exposed chest. Setting the glass back down, he swiftly dragged the back of his index finger along the glistening stripe and wiped it up, “making a fucking mess,” briefly leaning in to clean up the rest with his tongue.

Giggling fleetingly at his comment, you asked, “do you want a sip?” but he only gazed back at you and gently shook his head, other desires more prevalent in his mind.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you felt his girth throb inside of you.

As his stride slowly began to return towards the bedroom, it only took you letting your arms hang at your sides a moment for the flannel to cascade off of you and drop to the floorboards.

Craning his neck, he buried his face in your boobs, nipping and nuzzling gently against the soft flesh as you insistently tugged at his grey tank, one of your socked feet also shifted and nudged at his waistband in an attempt at getting him to the same level of undress as you were at. But unfortunately, none of your efforts yielded much success as his grip on you halted the fabric from exposing too much of his warm flesh. 

You hadn’t truly comprehended that you’d reached your destination before your spine pressed against the doorframe, Frank momentarily using it as leverage as he carefully lifted you off him, shifting his hold on you as you felt his previous load begin to drip out.

Gingerly plopping you down onto the bed, you expected him to melt down atop of you and bury himself so deep inside of you that you wouldn’t be able to walk for a whole week, instead his warmth disappeared as he took a few steps back, his dark eyes glued to you and the mess between your lazily fallen open thighs, as he stripped off the clothes that clung to his bulky physique.

Raising yourself up onto your elbows, your teeth snatched up your bottom lip as you spotted the lewd stain on the front of his pants, completely sodden with your essence. 

He was surely taking his time with it, putting on a show and letting you drool over every sliver of skin he revealed, but perhaps it was just your impatience getting the best of you, because when the last bit of fabric finally dropped to the floor and he stood there a second in all of his jaw-dropping glory, you heard your whine resonate within the cabin, “Frank, my legs feel like jello,” a breathy laugh slipped out past your pout as you feared he’d ask you to come crawling to him, “please get back over here.”

Choking down a laugh of his own, he painfully slowly stepped closer to you, your thighs splitting wider as he neared. 

“You sure?” he playfully cocked his brow as his fist closed in around his fat base, stroking himself agonisingly close to your puffy pussy, “I thought you said I made you come so hard that now you can’t take it anymore,” smiling as you attempted to wiggle closer without any success, “you sure you can handle more?”

“Yes,” flowed from your lips as you stared at the way his grip slid up and down his intimidating length, the lingering gloss making his movements go molten, “yes, I can take it, please, I want more.”

Finally granting you a tad of contact, he tapped the hefty weight against your swollen pearl, “yeah?” gliding his free palm down your inner thigh to fight it as it jerked in response, “this what you want?” he repeated the action, the lewd soppy smack resonating within the room, “or was it more something like this,” you gasped as he suddenly slid the entirety of his length inside of you.

“H-holy shit!” you felt all of the air get pushed out of your lungs as his tip nudged against the deepest part of you, a sensation that caused your limbs to tremble at his sides. 

“What?” he smirked, pulling back out completely, and gliding his weight through your soppy folds, parting them with his girth as he rubbed against your clit, “I didn’t quite catch that,” your hazy gaze fluttered down to see how far up your stomach his length rested, the staggering image efficiently causing your brain to melt out of your ear. 

“Yo-you, you, yes!” you blubbered incoherently, “that–, yes!”

“What? This?” he bullied your clit further. 

“Ah!” you moaned sharply, “no, no–”

“Oh, you mean this?” he slammed back inside of you so fiercely that tears formed in the corners of your eyes, “is this what you want? Would this make you happy?” he slowly eased back out, just halfway, before burying himself once more, “because you know that’s all I want, is just to make my girl happy.” 

Mouth agape, you watched as he fucked you, still standing tall next to where to laid melted against the mattress, but when you noticed the dull bulge that rhythmically appeared in the lower part of your stomach, your eyes grew wide, and the tangible proof made your pussy threaten to flutter around his girth. 

“F-Frank!” you whimpered as he gazed down at you, admiring the way you took his entirety, “I think I'm gonna–”

“What?” he offered you one last thrust before retracting completely, leaving you squirming as he dropped down to his knees before you, “you’re gonna what?”

Both of his thumbs briefly came up to spread your puff apart for him, granting him a great view of your collected mess that still oozed out of you. redirecting his gaze to stare up at you, he placed a few teasing pecks along your glistening petals, his prominent nose nudging against your puffy clit as he teased you, making his way up to lap a cruelly light lick to your sensitive pearl. 

“I am waiting patiently here,” two of his fingers came to fill you up, hooking inside of you and swiftly initiating a rocking rhythm against that spot that conjured the lewdest of squelching melodies, “what are you gonna do, huh?” and as he sucked down on your clit, he only did so for what felt like a second before it all became too intense and your pussy gushed around his determined digits, a display he had obviously hoped for as he bellowed gravelly, “there it is,” a feral look glazing over his intense gaze as he tickled out as much of your nectar as you’d grant him, “fuck!”

As you laid there quivering and shaking on the crumbled sheets, the last thing you’d expected after a high so paralysing was for you to crave more, and you did. In a deep and primal way that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. In a way that caused you to sluggishly yank him up onto the bed and feel his weight on top of you, a sensation you didn’t get to savour long before he rolled around, taking you with him as he planted his head upon the pillows still at the top of the bed and manhandling you on top of him. 

Body melted and plastered atop of his, you uttered into his skin, “you’re being so mean.”

Digging his grip into your hips, he grinded you down against him and checked, “too mean?”

“I–…” you thought about it a second before the corners of your lips began to tip upwards, “no… I like it, but you’re just still mean.”

Manoeuvring your molten frame, he lifted your pelvis up far enough for him to slip back inside.

“Yeah, well, what else is new,” you felt his low chuckle rumble in his burly chest beneath your cheek, “we can’t all be a ray of sunshine like you.”

Keeping his grasp glued to your hips, you swiftly discovered that your exhausted limbs weren’t up to the task of doing all of the work independently and became ever so grateful when you didn’t even have to ask for help as Frank began to rock your frame for you, moving you like a toy on top of him. 

Arms curling up and retracting in against your form, you smooshed your cheek further down against his chest as you drooled on his pecks, the rocking motion nearly lulling you off into a dream, but before you could fade away completely, Frank’s voice washed over you once more.

“Hey, sweetheart?” 

“Mhm?” you mewled as he fucked you down upon him.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

And when you did, it took your fuzzy gaze a moment before you spotted the mirror on the far side wall and the reflection in it, but when you did notice it, the shuttering moan you let out left no doubt in Frank’s mind if you had or not. 

“Look at how fucking pretty you are when you’re all fucked out,” you felt him shift his hold so that he kept your hips stagnant and bucked his own up into you in such a way that caused your head to levitate just a centimetre off his pecks as his balls slapped against you from the force of his efforts, “can you keep your beautiful eyes right there on the mirror? I want you to see how cute you look when you cum…”

You weren’t sure that cute was the specific word you would have used to describe how it looked when he once again made you squirt all over his cock. But sure, you could see how in Frank’s eyes you must have looked utterly adorable gushing around him from just how good he made you feel. 

Rolling over, you both now laid on your sides with your limp leg flung over his hip and his flush face clutched in your palms as you held him close in the silky embrace. 

“Frank,” your woollen-socked foot caressed his lower back as it methodically moved beneath it with every lavish thrust, “I don’t think I can cum again.”

“Is that a challenge?” his warm palm slid down your frame and he pressed his middlemost fingers down upon your overly sensitive clit, “because I think you can. I even think you can squirt some more for me,” and as he angled his molten motions, he didn’t quit till your face screwed up and squelching noises echoed at every zealous plunge, “such a fucking good girl, you can do it, just let go, I’ve got you,” he talked you through your high as it crashed into you, nearly knocking you out completely as your body fulfilled his wish and his own peak swiftly followed suit as your clambering pussy milked him dry.

With sweet sweat glistening up your skin, you felt utterly boneless as you laid there in Frank’s arms. Placing a few slow pecks all along the length of his nose, he hummed contentedly and a soft smile warmth up his features. 

After nearly falling back asleep in the safe cocoon that was the post-coital bliss, you heard yourself ask after you both landed on not slumbering the day away. 

“You wanna take a shower before we actually figure something real out for breakfast?”

“Wow, okay,” he jokingly scoffed as he began to drag himself out of the bed, “but don’t think this is gonna work a third time.”

“What?” you chuckled as he got up to his feet and pulled open the top dresser drawer for a few fresh towels, “no, I seriously just mean cleaning up before we eat!”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle series #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #jon bernthal smut #marvel smut #marvel x reader smut #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #lumberjack au

[navybrat817]

First Mother's Day

Summary: Steve and Bucky want to give you the perfect Mother's Day.

Pairings: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 2.2k Warnings: Fluff, established relationships, slight insecurities, parenthood, pet names, canon divergent, feels (it's me), Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes (yep, they are warnings) A/N: Happy Mother's Day from our Into the Woods boys.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Bucky edit by Nix. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Beefcake and Tippy

When Steve asked what you wanted for your first Mother’s Day, you didn’t have an answer for him. After a few seconds of silence and an eyebrow raise, you said you didn’t want anything. A touch of sadness filled the former Captain’s blue eyes when he asked you why. You shrugged a little. That answer wasn’t good enough for him.

Truthfully, you weren’t sure what to say. You knew he wanted to make the day special for you, but wasn’t it just another day? Peanut would be too young to remember it. Then again, you and Steve would be able to keep the memories close to your hearts. But it felt selfish to ask for anything, even if the day was meant to be about you.

And wasn’t that part of being a mom, willing to give, but not wanting to ask for anything in return?

“Steve, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something for me,” you said, even if a small part of you wanted him to.

“It’s your day. I have to do something.”

“What did I just say? You don’t have to do anything,” you argued.

“Wrong choice of words,” he said, pulling you close. “I want to. Please.”

While some likely expected Steve to want a more “traditional” wife and mother to his kids, thanks to when he was born, he was a hands-on dad. Expecting you to do everything was unrealistic and unfair in his eyes. He invested time and energy into raising his child and made sure to balance responsibilities. Not only that, he took the time to acknowledge your hard work as you balanced writing and motherhood. You consider yourself lucky to have Steve as a partner and father to your son.

He makes me feel seen and appreciated.

Maybe it was the pleading look in his eyes that got to you. Or the slight pout on his handsome face. You didn’t want much. You really didn’t. So was it really selfish to ask?

“Okay. You know what I want?” you asked, not giving him a chance to respond. “I want to sleep in a little. I want breakfast in bed and I don’t care if that’s cliche. I want an uninterrupted nap in the afternoon with a warm blanket. And I want to watch a cheesy rom-com before bed with buttered popcorn.”

“From that shop in the city?” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Yes, that one,” you smiled back. “With extra butter.”

“And that’s it?” he questioned, making sure you weren’t leaving anything out.

“That’s it,” you replied. “A simple, quiet day with the two of you. I don’t think that’s asking for too much and it’ll make me happy. My day, my rules, right?”

Steve chuckled and nodded. “Whatever you say.”

When Sunday rolled around, you didn’t wake up to the sound of Steve’s alarm like you expected. Instead, you opened your eyes to the sight of him carrying a tray with a delicious smelling breakfast. He smiled gently as he waited for you to sit up and stretch before he set the food down. He was dressed for the day, a red plaid shirt stretched across his broad chest. Handsome as ever and you probably looked like the walking dead rising from your slumber.

And Peanut was close by in the pack ‘n play, sound asleep. You noticed his onesie matched Steve’s shirt. A mini-me in the making and you couldn’t be happier.

“Good morning,” Steve said, sitting on the bed. “Already fed and changed him so you could sleep in.”

First thing on my list.

“Thank you, Steve,” you smiled, your stomach grumbling as you looked over the large breakfast. Second thing on my list. “I may be hungry, but you know you’ll have to help me eat this, right?”

“That was the plan,” he teased, uncaring of your morning breath as he leaned over to kiss you. “Would you like your present before or after breakfast?”

“You got me a present?” you asked, shaking your head as he leaned down and pulled out a large package from under the bed. “Okay, I have to open it now. How did you manage to hide that from me?”

“Because you didn’t look under the bed,” he winked, moving the tray so you could take the gift. “Thank god you didn’t because we both know I’m a terrible liar and I would’ve told you immediately what was inside.”

True.

You almost felt bad ruining the pretty wrapping paper, but you felt giddy with anticipation as you opened the box, especially since you hadn’t expected anything. Your smile widened when you saw the large bag of buttered popcorn from your favorite shop that sat on top of a soft blanket. Beside it sat a framed photo of you holding your son the day he was finally home.

“For your uninterrupted nap this afternoon and for our rom-com movie tonight,” he smiled. Third and fourth items on my list. “I thought the photo would be nice for your desk.”

The day the hospital released your son was one of the happiest days of your life. He carried so much strength in his tiny body, a reminder that hope and resilience came in all shapes and sizes. The heart of a warrior and the light of your life.

“These are wonderful. Thank you,” you said, pointing at one more small box. “But what’s this?”

“Something I had Jewel make,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed nervous about this one. “I, um, hope you like it.”

You gasped when you opened the box. Bucky’s wife was a gifted jewelry maker and she had once again outdone herself. A sparkling ring with three stones shined up at you, immediately recognizing that they represented birthstones for you, Steve, and Peanut. As you took out the ring with tearful eyes, you caught a small inscription inside the band.

Faith. Hope. Love.

“Happy Mother's Day,” Steve whispered, taking the ring and slipping it onto your right ring finger. “And here’s to many more.”

A tear fell as you framed his face to kiss him. Not only did he give you exactly what you asked for, but he went above and beyond to make you feel special. The way he did each day with faith, hope, and love.

But the greatest of these is love.

Hunk and Jewel

You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out how nervous Bucky was for your first Mother’s Day. He circled the day on the calendar with a lopsided heart and a question mark in the space. You also caught him reading an article on unique gifts, which you pretended not to see. You could’ve dropped hints here and there for him if you wished, but there wasn’t anything specific that you wanted.

You did your own research and found that some moms wanted space on Mother’s Day, like a spa or pampering day. Others liked homemade and sentimental gifts. A general consensus was that they didn’t want to do any work. Bucky already handled more than his share of chores though when it came to your home and daughter and you knew he wouldn’t let you lift a finger when that Sunday arrived.

Could you ask for anything more?

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked your daughter as he paced around the room, cuddling her against his chest. “She made Tippy a ring. A ring. How do I even top that? Not that it’s a competition. It’s not.”

You covered your mouth so you wouldn’t laugh. It was almost endearing how he had the tendency to overthink when it came to gifts for you. You assured him that no matter what he decided to get you, for whatever occasion, that you’d love it. A small bouquet of flowers would've satisfied you.

“You know I love your mama, right? Love you both so much,” he continued, kissing the top of her head. “I just want her to feel special. She works so hard and she puts up with me.”

I adore him.

Jellybean giggled as she tugged on her dad’s hair, your heart melting at the sight. Your baby girl loved you, there was no doubt about that, but she was also very much a daddy’s girl. Not that you blamed her. Bucky was a loving, protective father, always there to soothe and care for her. He’d always have a special place in her heart.

“We love you, too,” you said, finally letting out a laugh when he turned with wide eyes and saw you in the doorway. “Your super soldier senses didn’t pick up on me standing here?”

“And I thought I had stealth,” he mumbled with a small smile. “You know how I get when it comes to your gifts.”

“I do, but I don’t understand why you do, Jamie. You have nothing to worry about,” you said, smiling when you saw how content your daughter was in his arms. “I’m sure you already have a special engraved stone for me,” you pointed out, something to carry on the tradition he created. You kept the small growing collection in a jeweled box and looked forward to getting them for each holiday and special day.

“But you’re expecting that and I want to surprise you,” he said, sighing before Jellybean giggled again. “I think she’s laughing at me.”

“Oh, she is,” you teased, rubbing her back. You weren’t a perfect mother, but she was a happy, healthy baby and that was what mattered to you. “Do you remember the first time we heard her giggle? It was such a happy sound. I wish I knew what went on in her mind when she did that.”

Bucky gave you a thoughtful stare, like something clicked in his mind. “I remember,” he said, gently putting your daughter in your arms. “I need to make a call.”

“Okay,” you said, watching as he rushed out of the room. “I think your dada got an idea.”

You were right.

Bucky was much more relaxed after that afternoon. You had to admit, you were curious about what gift he had in mind. You went through a list of things in your mind before you decided not to dwell on it. As much as you wanted to ask for hints, you didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

That day you woke up to a bouquet of your favorite flowers on the nightstand. Beside it was a smaller vase with a single flower. The scent brought a smile to your face as you sat up. They were beautiful.

“She picked the flowers and chose the prettiest one for her vase” Bucky smiled, carrying your daughter with one hand and balancing a gift in the other. “We have breakfast waiting for you, but she wants you to open your gift first.”

Liar.

“Of course she did. She has good taste,” you smiled, booping her on the nose as Bucky sat her down on the bed.

Bucky gazed at you expectantly as you unwrapped the present. As expected, a heart shaped rock engraved with “Mother” awaited you on top. Fitting for a mother of pearl stone. Beneath it was a wooden bath tray that you knew Bucky made himself.

“It has room for a book or tablet, your phone, a place for your wine glass, and it extends if you want to add more stuff,” he explained, kissing your forehead. “You deserve to relax.”

I don’t deserve him.

“Beautiful and thoughtful,” you smiled, making Bucky smile in return. He knew how much you liked to relax whenever you could. “Thank you.”

“There’s one more thing,” he said, urging you to look under the tray.

“A book?” you asked, picking it up to look at the cover.

Mama, I Love You!

“That call I made? I got some help from Tippy,” he explained, clearing his throat. “So you know what's on Jellybean's mind."

You were almost afraid to open it because you knew you’d cry. Tippy was extremely talented, her words drawing a range of emotions from the reader. And with help from Bucky, you knew this one was extra special.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You sniffled as you opened it and turned the pages. Each page had a date, drawings of the three of you, or message of love and memories. From the day you found out you were pregnant, to the day you brought your daughter home, to her first smile, and more. It was as if Jellybean was telling you the story of her life with you so far. And letting you know that you were doing the best that you could.

By the time you got to the last page, you openly sobbed.

“Thank you for loving me, Mama.”

This was one of the reasons you loved Bucky. Jellybean couldn’t tell you through words yet how she felt being your daughter, so her father did so. At the end of the day, you wanted to be the best mother for her. This gift would help ease your insecurities if you ever doubted yourself.

“Thank you for loving us,” Bucky whispered, wiping away your tears with a tender touch before he kissed you. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

Thank you both for loving me.

I think Tippy and Jewel having a hand in the gifts make them extra special. I also know this day isn't easy for many and my heart goes out to each of you lovelies. Happy Mother's Day. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

#navybrat writes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers #bucky barnes #lumberjack!steve rogers x reader #woodworker!bucky barnes x reader #lumberjack!steve rogers #woodworker!bucky barnes #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers au #bucky barnes au #into the woods au #beefcake and tippy #hunk and jewel #steve rogers x female!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x female reader #sebastian stan x female reader

[buckrecs]

𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝙅𝙪𝙡𝙮 ~ 𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧

masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist

FLUFF

Puppy Eyes by @coffee-with-bucky

look at me by @aquariusbarnes

The Pull of Gravity by @navybrat817 (shifter au)

The Rejects by @/navybrat817

A Little Less Restless by @majestyeverlasting

The Sleepover by @littleredwolf

An Ol’ Fashioned Notion of Wartime and Whisky by @rookthorne

Honeyed Words of a She by @/rookthorne (mob!reader)

A Stroke of Luck by @/rookthorne (lumberjack!bucky)

Serenity by @/rookthorne (Mafia!reader)

A Clover’s Intuition by @/rookthorne (lumberjack!bucky)

Ducks on Plaster by @lovelybarnes

the great shirt debate by @rocketrhap3000

Barbie by @buckyalpine

Imagine | 2 by @noctumbra (chubby!bucky)

Don’t Tell Bucky by @lives-in-midgard

closer by @eviesaurusrex

bucky getting used to modern crap by @bucky-bucket-barnes

Around My Neck by @mcu1shots

These Hands Are Meant To Hold by @vanderlustwords

Timeless by @antiquarianfics

You Have A Girlfriend? by @/antiquarianfics

Something to Smile About by @jobean12-blog

Found Waldo by @lovelybarnes

Unchained Melody by @delusionalvenusian

valentine by @softlyspector

The Way We Were by @avintagekiss24

Midnight Escapades by @kiritella

Stunt Double by @/kiritella

Sleep and Cuddles by @/kiritella

Flowers And Things by @espinosaurusrexex

Little Mermaid by @buckyarchives

cuppa coffee by @irndad

A touch of color by @starrysebastians

Smooth Criminal by @redgillan (officer!bucky)

ANGST

Verbal Fight by @espinosaurusrexex

Tommy’s Party by @bucknastysbabe (college au)

Rescue You by @writing-for-marvel

not my one by @stxrvel (steve x reader)

Imagine by @/buckyalpine

One Night by @/buckyalpine

ours by @trashywormeateroffics

give me a minute by @amayatheowl

Seasons Change & I Carry You With Me by @/vanderlustwords

The Truth Is; I’m A Liar by @imtryingmyfuckingbest

Better Than Us by @/antiquarianfics

The Rain Will Always Gonna Come if You’re Standing With Me by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Love Me… by @/kiritella

You could never hurt me by @theeleggymeggy

SMUT

braid my hair, honey by @witchywithwhiskey

finally by @adrinktostopyourthirst (spy!reader)

cherry blossom by @noctumbra (librarian!bucky)

virgin mob bucky by @/buckyalpine

Take the edge off by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Hayloft by @wienerbarnes (40s au)

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #shifter!bucky #bucky x shifter!reader #bucky barnes oneshot #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes college au #chubby!bucky #librarian!bucky #mob!bucky #virgin!bucky #bucky x gn!reader #lumberjack!bucky #bucky x mafia!reader #shy!bucky #40s!bucky #bucky barnes 40s au #officer!bucky

[rutobuka2]

I told you it’d get thirsty 🤷 but every lumberjack deserves to have fun

#bagginshield #lumberjack thorin #modern au #it's thirsty bathroom kissing time

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Outside the Lines 5

Warnings:��this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsessive compulsive behaviour, kidnapping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has her routine and her fellow patient gets in the way of those.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, (lumberjack AU)

Note: I'm feeling it so why not.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Steve takes you downstairs. You marvel at the large kitchen, finished with dark walnut and brass. Bucky sits, dragging his fingertips over the island, leaning as he stares grimly at the wall. His eyes drift to you slowly and you flinch, cowering and shifting to hide partly behind Steve.

“She calm down?” He asks brusquely as he taps his metal fingers on the wood.

“Buck, she just needed to settle in, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Steve reaches back blindly and grabs your arm, drawing you forward, “she’s going to apologise.”

You look at him. You can’t hide your surprise at his declaration. Apologise. For what? They lied to you. How could you know any better? But you suppose you should’ve listened. You nod and Steve lets you go.

You face Bucky and step closer, folding one hand over the other.

“Bucky,” you begin.

“Sweetheart,” Steve hovers behind you, “you call him sergeant.”

Your lips part and you look down at your feet. You place them within the lines of the hardwood and count to three. You’d been standing right on the lines. That's bad luck!

You look up again and bring your hands over your chest.

“Sergeant,” you voice quavers and you swallow to steady it, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But I know now and I’ll be good because I know you’re just trying to help me.” Your eyes well as you remember his angry voice, “I’m real sorry about throwing the tea at you. I was only afraid.” You touch your cheeks and sway back and forth, “I’m not a mean person.”

His blue eyes are icy and his jaw set. He arches a brow and peeks at Steve. He raises his chin and lets his expression soften as he turns to you fully. He tilts his head as he grips his hip.

“Doll,” he says softly, “I forgive you. But I won’t a second time. Got it?”

“Yes,” you pout.

“We talked,” Steve says, “she understands now.”

“Ah,” Bucky hums, “good.”

You nod and look from one to the other. Steve touches the small of your back as he steps up beside you. You slouch and shy away from him.

“Why don’t you show the sergeant how sorry you are and make him a nice breakfast?” Steve suggests, “you know what they say about men.”

You shake your head. Who is they and what do they say?

“The way to his heart is through his stomach,” Steve chuckles. 

“Oh,” you bat your lashes, “so… um, what should I make?”

“Coffee,” Bucky grumbles as he rubs his eyes.

“There’s bacon and eggs in the fridge, can you cook that?”

“Yes! Yes, I can cook,” you proclaim, “I know how.”

“Of course, honey,” Steve drags his fingertips up your arm, “you can do so much. I know you can. A lot more than you think. And we just want to help you learn how to do more.”

You don’t want to seem ungrateful. It’s only confusing. You did overreact. You didn’t even let them explain. It’s no wonder they got a bit pushy.

“Thank you,” you chirp, “you’re so nice.” You look at his hand as he caresses above your elbow, “and this is a very nice house. I’ve never been to a cabin before. It’s so nice you would bring me here.”

“Ha, yeah, you know, me and Bucky built it,” Steve explains.

“You did?” You round your eyes and take another look around. You can’t imagine all that work. “Wow!”

"Coffee," Bucky grits as he leans his chin in his hand.

"Oh, yes," you twiddle your fingers and flutter around, watching your feet as you step between the trim of the hardwood slats of the floor, "I can make... coffee. I don't drink it you know, just tea. Coffee makes me... hyper!"

You spin cluelessly. Not knowing where to begin. You have no idea where everything is. There are no labels like your apartment. Every shelf, every cupboard has the precise contents listed on the outside, just like you like. So everything is in order. You hate chaos.

Bucky grumbles and Steve lets out a soft breath, "sweetheart, one step at a time," he girds.

Steve comes forward as you step back to watch him open a cupboard. He pulls down a bag of coffee, burlap with print stamped across it. The smell of its contents seep into your nose. Comforting even if its too bitter for your taste.

"Oh, thanks," you step forward carefully and hug the bag with your hands.

"Grinder is here," he points, "and the press."

You look between both and try to hide your confusion. Oh. You don't know how to do all that. You chew your lip and loosen the drawstring at the top of the bag. You stare inside tenuously. 

He opens a drawer and takes out a metal measuring cup. He offers it to you.

"One scoop."

You take it and scoop out the beans. Then you just stand there with it. You look at him and cringe.

"In the grinder," he directs gently as he pulls forward the little square machine and pops the top.

You pour the beans inside, the rattle of them making a small rhythm that carries in your head. You bop your head, trying to follow it as your nerves get the better of you. You can't help but make up little nonsensical songs in your head when you feel so lost.

He shuts the lid and steps back.

"Press the button."

You obey and press the button. There's a short whir then the machine quiets again.

He stifles a laugh, "hold it down."

You push and keep your finger jammed. You watch the blade turn the beans to powder and he gestures for you to stop. He slides over the press and pulls a spoon out of the open drawer. You reach over to shut it without thinking. He hesitates but says nothing about it.

"So, six table spoons. Open it up."

You try to flip the top of the machine open like he did but it won't budge. You grab it firmly and try to force it open. He moves forward. 

"You gotta hit the switch--"

Suddenly the compartment detaches from the rest of the machine and the lid opens, dusting you and the floor with coffee grinds. You stand in stunned silence as a growl rolls up Bucky's throat.

"Steve, just make the coffee, I'm dying here."

"I'm sorry," you push your lip out, "I made a mess."

You look around at the smatter of grinds all around you and littered across your dress. You shake it off and shiver. You glance between the men.

"I'm very sorry," you apologise again, "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. Don't be mad."

"It's fine, sweetheart," Steve reaches to touch your shoulder and you flinch, "get the broom out of the closet. Clean it up."

"Uh, uh, alright," you shake off the front of your dress before turning on your heel.

You go to the closet, the weight of Bucky's gaze following you. You open the door and find a broom, taking it out with the dustpan. You shut it and look past it to the doorway that gives a peak of another; a door with windows that look out on a leafy yard.

"Doll," Bucky warns from behind you.

"Sorry, was just looking," you spin and nearly trip over the bristles.

"Can't go outside until we can trust you," he adds.

"You don't trust me," you stand dumbly with the broom and pan. "Why not?"

He gives you a look. Your lips form an O. Yeah, the tea. Fair.

"Sorry," you repeat.

You set to sweeping up the grinds and Steve shows you where the bin is. Then he goes about making the coffee himself as you watch. He peeks over and smiles.

"Bacon and eggs are in the fridge."

You nod and go to the large fridge, a wooden front that makes it blend in with the rest of the decor. You open it and find the eggs easily but can't figure which paper packet is bacon. Not until you see the scribble sharpy scrawled on the other side.

You go back to the counter and peer around. Just as clueless as ever. Steve directs you to the pots and pans and you take out what you need. He tells you to put the kettle on and you stop to do that as he stands back and watches you. It suddenly feels like a test.

You struggle to catch the gas burner, making yourself dizzy as the flame doesn't light. 

"She's gonna burn this place down," Bucky snarls.

"Relax," Steve steps forward and gets the burner going for you. "There."

"She can't do anything on her own."

Steve retreats and points at Bucky. You don't look back as he approaches the other man and you hear the scratch of a whisper between them. You put the kettle on the lit burner, then lay the skillet on another. You focus and repeat what Steve did, managing to light the second.

"I did it!"

Bucky sighs as Steve praises you, "good girl."

You could smile. You're good. You can do things.

You turn on the oven, that's easier. You lay out bacon on a sheet and wait for it to preheat as you add oil to the pan. You search the cupboard and find a bowl to mix the eggs. You examine the spice rack, taking your pick of the many containers.

You shake your head and seal your lips as you have to smell them to see which is which. Steve hums before he speaks.

"What's wrong?"

You shrug, "nothing..."

He arches his brow and lifts his chin slightly. You clutch the oregano and gulp.

"Captain," you clear your throat, "in my apartment, I label stuff so I know. I can't find anything without the labels."

"Labels?" He repeats thoughtfully.

"Use your head. Remember," Bucky scoffs and receives a nudge from Steve.

"Labels, how about we make that your first project. Bucky can go in to town and get you a nice label maker of your own," Steve looks at his companion, "won't you?"

Bucky scowls, "if I don't get coffee soon, I'm not doing shit."

You widen your eyes and cover your mouth. Steve tuts, "Buck, watch your mouth."

"She's an adult, she can handle it."

"You're an adult too so stop being a brat," Steve warns, "sweetheart, keep going. I'll get his coffee."

He nears and pulls down a mug from yet another cupboard. He fills it and holds it up, "the sergeant takes his black, I don't mind a bit of cream. Okay?"

"Black," you nod at Bucky, "cream," you look back at Steve, "I'll try to remember."

"I know," he winks before he walks away.

He hands over the mug to Bucky and comes back to pour his own but you're there first. You put down the oregano and reach up to grab a red mug. You shut the cupboard and fill it, scurrying around Steve to grab the cream from the fridge. You add a little and offer him the cup. A grin slowly spread across his face.

"You're so sweet, thank you," he takes it, "you're a good learner, you know that?"

"I am?" You smile.

"Very smart girl," he raises the cup, blowing across it before taking a sip, "perfect. You got it just right."

You clap your hands together proudly, "see," you face Bucky, "I can do it, sergeant."

He squints at you over his own steaming mug and says nothing as he drinks. His blue eyes pierce you coldly. Your face falls and you tuck your chin down, turning back to take the oregano and you go back to the bowl of eggs.

You can do this. You're not going to burn the eggs. Or the bacon. 

"Do you have a timer?" You ask. That's the only way you ever get anything done but you don't have your phone anymore, which means all your alarms are useless.

"Yep," Steve grabs a small apple shaped timer from the corner of the counter and places it by the stove, "just twist."

"Thank you, Captain," you take it and look at the numbers.

He leans in and lowers his voice, "he'll come around. You'll show him, I know you will, sweetheart."

You bite down your lip and look at him. His eyes fall to your mouth as it curves, just a little, your cheeks burning.

"I'm trying," you eke out.

"I know," he reaches to rub your arm, dragging his hand up around your shoulder and playing with the sleeve of your dress, "did I tell you how nice you look?"

"Thank you," you preen.

"Doesn't she look nice, Bucky?" He steps back and crosses to the island where Bucky nurses his cup.

"Not bad," Bucky says, not quite a compliment but not as bad as you expect.

You'll just have to do better. Put all those tools that Dr. Makira gave you to work.

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #outside the lines #Fic #dark!fic #Dark fic #Au #lumberjack au #Series #marvel #mcu #captain america #winter soldier #avengers

[wave-nine]

How they met 🪵🌶️ + 🐰🍯

#undertale au #spicyhoney #papcest #bunny!honey #w9 art #he was running from some Baddies that attacked him and his home and he falls off a cliff... :( THERE'S SNOW he's ok #and he encounters edge who is a very sexy and cool and awesome and manly lumberjack :) #did I mention he's sexy :)) #after hearing honey's story he lets him stay at his place because he's kind and cool and se- #anyway he ends up staying there permanently >:)

[georgiapeach30513]

#lumberjack AU #werewolf au #video #inspo

[believemetheodore]

New AU in the works y'all and I am making no apologies!

Shout out to @thisismysecondrodeo for listening to my stoned ramblings about it 🥹💕💜😌

#tedbecca #ted lasso x rebecca welton #lumberjack!AU #wip #work in progress #new work alert #💕💕💕

[celenawrites]

lumberjack!price (who used to be ex military) rescues you, an injured traveller, when he goes to the woods one day to cut wood.

he finds you, buried in a thick layer of snow and injured with a twisted ankle and some cracked ribs and so out of it due to the pain and the freezing weather and as a good Samaritan, he hauls you away bridal style back to his cabin near the woods, isolated from society - the perfect place for him to spend his retirement while chopping woods, hunting for food, etc.

lumberjack!price who contacts his doctor friends and tends to your wounds, dressing your fragile skin with alcohol wipes and sterilized gauze, cuz the nearest town is at least two hours away from here. he layers you up with the thickest blankets he has, tries his best to assist you into changing into a spare pair of clothes (his clothes that are too large on your frame) and he restraints himself from registering how pretty you look in his clothes despite how banged up you have been atm. he lays you down on the sofa and tends to the fireplace with the chopped wood he has, ensuring that you're warm and safe and miles away from experiencing anything close to hypothermia.

lumberjack!price who feels how smooth and soft and perfect your skin is, your body is under his calloused, scarred hands and how all he wants to do is protect you from anything that can pose as a danger to you.

lumberjack!price who keeps waking you up every two hours cuz he's afraid you have been concussed. he wakes you up and feeds you some medicines and home remedies, maybe he cooks you some warm food - creamy tomato soup, grilled sandwiches, maybe a bar of dark chocolate he had bought on his last town run for groceries and utilities. he keeps checking your temperature and blood pressure, worried sick about you and he vows to take you to the hospital first thing in the morning.

lumberjack!price who gets to know you while you recover and stay at his abode (he insisted, despite you trying to leave and get in touch with your trekking team). he learns about you, about the job you had, about how you decided to join a trek group in order to make more friends and to travel in your free time, about how the snow blizzard had made you all split up and somehow you ended up fainting in the cold, left for dead. luckily, he found you and you'd forever be grateful.

lumberjack!price who insists on doing everything for you, but you're just as stubborn as he is. you bake him mug cakes and cook him your ma's signature dishes, and you offer to clean the dishes after the meal but he gives you a look that almost makes you falter, but your family has instilled values of gratitude deep into your bones, so you protest anyway - making him settle for you drying the dishes he washes instead. the scene is domestic, and price realises that he likes your presence in his humble abode quite a lot.

lumberjack!price who feels his heart break a little whenever he sees you recover steadily. he wants you to get better, can barely handle the days when your pain gets the best of you - but he cannot make peace with the fact that you'd probably leave the moment you're given the 'OK' from the doctor.

lumberjack!price who always comes running in the middle of the night whenever you wake up screaming from a nightmare (replaying the day you got seperated from your friends, except there's no one to save you). he shushes you, holding you in his strong, muscled arms as he promises to always look out for you and kisses your forehead as he rocks you back to sleep, letting your head rest on his chest and fall asleep to the lullaby of his heart.

#sorry my poor knowledge idk a lot about lumberjacks #except that they cut trees #but im so sick about lumberjack price #im frothing at the mouth #i need him carnally #i need him biblically #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #lumberjack price #cod au #call of duty #cod #cod:mw2 #captain price #captain john price #john price #price x reader #capt. price #price #char.price #celena.rambles #celena.writes

[connor-sent-by-cyberlife]

Lumberjack Hank

(click for better quality)

³ᵈ ᵐᵒᵈᵉˡ ᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᶻᵉᵖᵖᵉʳˢᵃʳᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʷᶦᵗᵗᵉʳ

#Detroit Become Human #dbh #dbh hank anderson #dbh au #alternative universe #lumberjack hank #hank anderson #timebird84 #connor-sent-by-cyberlife #daz 3d studio #3d art #digital art #3d rendering #3d render #created with daz 3d content

[jobean12-blog]

Wood You Be Mine?

Pairing: Lumberjack!Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 2,667

Summary: Your work and Grandmother bring you away from the city and into the mountains and you find more than just some peace and quiet.

Author's Note: I'm really enjoying these AU's with Joel! Been fun to explore and he wears enough flannels LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's fun and flirty and reader is sassy and Joel is grumpy and it's fluffy and soft too!

Joel Miller Masterlist

After several miles of driving along a bumpy dirt road, the cabin appears. A puffing chimney tops a two-story log house, and red checkerboard curtains line the windows. You park your car in front of the porch. The only other vehicle you see on the property is an old blue pickup truck.

When you step out of the car, a rhythmic pounding echoes from the backyard, somehow in tune with the abundance of sounds from the surrounding woods.

You sneak around the side of the porch hoping to catch a glimpse of your newest client. He’d reluctantly agreed to have his cabin featured in your magazine but only because the story was about eco friendly homes built by their owners.

You round the corner of the house and stop dead in your tracks. You had no idea what the man looked like from the front, but from the back…well you liked what you saw.

His strong arms raise an axe high above his head, then crush it down on a log propped on another stump. The corded muscles of his forearms flex with every movement and his biceps are barely contained by the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel.

Faded and worn blue jeans hug his ass and thick thighs and a pair of scuffed up work boots complete the ensemble. A real-life lumberjack.

He stops momentarily, leaning over to grab a rag, and wipes the handle of the axe. He swings the axe again, splitting the log in front of him, and the two half pieces tumble to the ground.

Whatever noise of appreciation comes out of your mouth was not meant for his ears but suddenly, his head whips around and he levels you with an aggravated glare.

He drops the axe to the ground and stalks over to where you stand, his dark brown eyes narrowed and his soft lips tight with his gritted teeth.

“Can I help you with somethin’? Since you’re trespassin’?” he rumbles.

His eyes rake over you and he glances toward the sky.

“From the city?”

You bristle. “Yeah, and what’s it to ya?”

He snorts. “Those boots look real practical darlin.’ I’m sure they’ll come in handy for the next snow storm.”

You look down at your heeled feet. “We plow snow in the city. Super convenient. You know since people like to get a life. Do things. Instead of hiding away in the mountains.”

He raises a bushy eyebrow. “Uh huh. Well, good for you. Any reason why you’re interrupting me.”

“Just here to take the pictures for Mountain Living magazine.”

You rummage through your bag and pull out some papers, passing them his way. You can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf them.

“So you’re the photographer.”

“Yep,” you answer, popping the p and giving him your name.

“Joel Miller,” he grunts and stands to his full height, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

You smile brightly and bat your lashes.

He scowls.

“Let’s go inside so you can take your pictures. And then you can get back to your fancy city life.”

You follow him inside, careful to avoid the mud puddles. A loud, keening screech shatters the silence and you yelp in surprise. You slide in your boots and bump into Joel, grabbing his thick bicep for safety.

A huge bird swoops by and lands on a nearby tree branch, ruffling it’s feathers and eyeballing you. Your fingers flex on his muscle and you gasp.

“What is that? It looks like a dinosaur! Is it going to eat us?”

“It’s just a hawk darlin’,” he answers with a shake of his head. “Shit, don’t they have any birds in the city?”

“I mean sure,” you begin, “but they are small and hop around a lot.”

He stares at you, unmoving. “Well, you’re not in any danger. Unless it decides to take a shit on your head.”

He says it without cracking a smile.

“Aren’t you hilarious,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes.

“Why exactly are you up here in the wilderness?” he asks. “You don’t seem too excited about it.”

“Other than work…I’m visiting my grandmother. She lives up here and I’m staying with her for the next month. Getting some fresh air and all that.”

“Just as you step up onto the porch you hear a whining noise. A fluffy yellow lab ambles over and sits on your boot, wagging it’s tail and looking up at you with big brown eyes.

“Who’s this?” you ask as you lean down to pet the dog.

“That’s Winston.”

“He’s a lab right?”

“Yep.”

You cough to hide your laugh. “He’s very cute but I thought it was mandatory for all people living here to have some huge breed like a Pyrenees or Saint Bernard.”

“Does your grandmother have some giant dog?” he asks.

“Two Swiss Mountain dogs actually. Bert and Ernie.”

He surprises you with a huge smile. His whole face lit up, his eyes even crinkling at the corners.

“Nice names. I like your grandmother.”

“She’s the best. Even if she worries too much about me. She wants me to move out of the city and come up here for the cleaner air!”

He opens the front door and ushers you inside. “She has a point. It’s much healthier here.”

“And boring-er.”

The door bangs shut behind him.

“That’s not a word.”

“It should be. At least up here.”

He doesn’t look amused and instead walks over to small desk in the corner and shuffles some papers.

You take a look around and blink in surprise. It’s gorgeous. The granite fireplace is surrounded by hand-made wooden furniture and the high ceilings and large windows create a rustic and beautiful scene.

“You look shocked,” he chuckles from behind you.

“Oh,” you startle. “It’s just…it’s so beautiful. How did you do all this?”

He smiles again. “It took a lot of time and sawdust.”

You walk around, running your fingertips over the curves of the furniture and firing off the names of all the different woods it’s made of.

“How do you know so much about that?”

“I’ve taken enough pictures of furniture and asked enough questions to know most types of wood,” you explain.

“Well, now, isn’t that funny. City girls knows all about timber but is scared of the outdoors.”

“I never said that!” you grumble.

“I could see it all over your face when the hawk flew by! You look around like somethin’s gonna jump out and eat ya!”

You narrow your eyes and step closer to him. “That’s just not true. I’m not scared of the woods…I’m simply afraid of…of…certain large mammals that might enjoy life in the woods…you know rubbing up against trees, eating berries and honey and maybe an occasional human!”

“What in the world…?” Joel smirks.

“I’m afraid of bears!” you say as you sit on his couch and slump back.

He tries to stifle a laugh. “I’m guessin’ there’s a story hiding somewhere darlin’.”

“I’m guessing my grandmother is expecting me for dinner. I better get started on the pictures so I’m not late.”

You shuffle with your camera equipment until you’re satisfied then start snapping shots. You’re in the zone and hardly feel Joel’s eyes on you as you work. When you’re done you pack up and hold out your hand to him.

“It was nice to meet you Joel.”

Your hand is engulfed by warm, rough skin and so much strength. You peer up into his face and expect a snarky smile but instead you gasp softly at the winded look you find. He blinks slowly and he tightens his grip before tugging on your hand.

Your boots slide across the hard wood floor until your inches away from him and his gaze drops to your mouth.

Your knees buckle when Winston slams against your legs and wiggles his body between the two of you.

Joel sighs. “Damn dog.” But he leans down and affectionately rubs behind his ears.

Winston sits on your feet and presses his body weight against you, relishing the ear rubs.

“Winston,” you coo as you join in.

“Sorry about him. He’s a big fan of affection.”

You clear your throat. “Isn’t everyone?”

His eyes level with yours and you get caught in his gaze, a warmth spreading along your skin.

“I better get going. I’ll be sure to e-mail you the proofs of the pictures so you can be part of the selecting process.”

You fly out of the house and into the car, tearing down the dirt road then peeking in your rear-view mirror to see Joel standing out on his porch.

“I need a drink,” you mumble before turning toward the small town.

Joel runs a hand through his already disheveled hair after he pulls into the parking lot of the general store in town.

He knows a hot cup of coffee will help and one of those muffins that the owner’s wife bakes.

The general store has it all…coffee, muffins, dog biscuits, a new axe…and you.

There you are, smack dab in the middle of the aisle stocked with wine. You grab a bottle and round the corner toward the register.

The owner, Mark, chats you up as you check out.

“Celebrating something tonight miss?” Mark asks.

“Actually no, just visiting with my grandma but I needed a drink,” you explain to Mark.

“Not sure that’s somethin’ your grandma should be drinkin’.”

At the sound of that familiar deep voice you grit your teeth and turn to face him.

The look of indignation on your face almost makes Joel laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching with his suppression.

“Grandma loves her wine Mr. Miller. And she’s old enough to enjoy it!”

Joel can’t hold back any longer and lets out a bark of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

He steps closer and gives you a once-over before taking a sip of his coffee and raising an eyebrow.

You want to stomp your feet. “I’m surprised you even have wine in this town!”

“It’s not the middle of nowhere. We have electricity, indoor plumbing and the internet! It’s all very modern.”

“Oh yeah sure it is,” you tease. “That explains the jars of penny candy then! And if that’s what you call coffee…well…”

You look to Mark standing at the cash register, “no offense Mark.”

“None taken,” the old man says kindly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Thank you Mark. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy this with my grandmother!”

You grab your bag of wine and march out the door, this time feeling the heat of Joel’s stare at your back.

“Is there anywhere else you want to go before we head back Grandma?”

She smiles and asks you to take her to the general store to visit Mark and get some coffee, telling you it’s been ages since she’s been in to see him.

“Sure Grandma. I’d get coffee too but I think I’ll pass…”

Your Grandma chuckles and pats your knee, still smiling.

As you walk around the store and listen to your Grandma talking with Mark you can’t help it as your thoughts wander back to Joel and the undeniable heat you feel whenever you’re near him. When you make it to the register your Grandma and Mark are talking in hushed voices, glancing your way and looking suspicious as you get closer.

“What’s going on?”

Your Grandma looks at you knowingly. “Mark here was just telling me that you took the pictures of Joel’s cabin for your magazine.”

Your eyebrows come together. “But how did he know that?”

“Joel told me,” Mark explains. “Said you took fantastic pictures. Really captured the heart and soul of his place.”

You smile at that and your Grandma’s face brightens.

“He’s a good man. A bit gruff, but good. Better than most actually.”

You look at your Grandma, letting her words sink in as you become more confused. “You know Joel?”

“Everyone knows everyone ‘round here baby,” your Grandma says. “And when I tell you Joel’s one of the good ones you best believe it.”

“Why should it matter to me?” you ask as realization dawns on you.

Your Grandma and Mark share an entertained expression.

“OH NO!” you say, far too loudly. “No way! There is no way in hell I’m getting involved with a big, cranky, grumpy, Lab-owning, house building, bearded lumberjack who lives in the middle of nowhere!”

Both your Grandma and Mark smirk and glance over your shoulder.

“Hi Joel,” Mark says. Good to see you again.”

You narrow your eyes at Mark. “Funny. You expect me to believe that he’s standing behind me?” Just how naïve do you think I am!”

A low rumble in your ear raises every hair on your body.

You turn until Joel’s face comes into view, his beard, complete with patches of gray, only inches from your lips.

“For the record, I’m only grumpy when people trespass on my property.”

He smiles and places some dog biscuits down on the counter before walking off down another aisle.

Your Grandma cackles. “Oh he definitely likes you.”

Mark nods enthusiastically in agreement before you look between them both and stomp off in a different direction.

Unfortunately that direction takes you smack into the hard chest of your grumpy lumberjack.

“Oof,” you mutter, closing your eyes when his strong hands close around your waist.

“You ok darlin’? You were comin’ round that corner so fast I didn’t have time to move. Sorry.”

“I’m fine,” you whisper, slowly opening your eyes until your vision is filled with the soft brown color of his.

“And by the way,” he continues. “I might be slightly grumpy, a lab-owner and a builder but I ain’t no lumberjack.”

“Really,” you muse, still standing close enough that you can feel his chest brush yours with his inhale. “Let’s see,” you point at his flannel shirt. “Plaid shirt. Check! Axe? Saw you use one of those! Check! Beard,” and you glance at his chin, your fingers slowly lifting until your brush them over his cheek.

“Check.” The last one comes out breathy and light.

Joel chuckles, dipping his head until his warm breath fans your cheek and his lips brush the shell of your ear.

“What do you say to lettin’ me take ya out for a bite to eat? There’s a local dive that makes decent food and I think they even have wine.”

You pause, trying to steady your shallow breathing.

“Well, I guess that might be okay. Considering there’s wine…and Grandma says the college boys are really cute here in town.”

Joel frowns. “College boys? I don’t think college boys would know how to satisfy a sophisticated city woman like you.”

He strokes his callused fingers over your soft jaw. “I think you might need a real man for the job.”

You still beneath his touch, then let out a slow breath.

“What makes you think I’m looking for a real man? Maybe I’ve sworn off all men for a while.”

“I don’t think you have any idea what a real man can do for you darlin’.”

Your eyes linger on his mouth and he clears his throat, but his voice still comes out gravelly and strained.

“Lumberjack men don’t fool around. What you see is what you get. And when we see what we want…”

He stares at your lips, pouting and inviting. “We take it.”

Your lips part on a breathy gasp before you recover and sass him with, “but you said it yourself, you’re no lumberjack.”

He just smiles and waits, softly tracing the outline of your jaw.

You run your tongue over your lips and stare at him.

“Okay. You can take me out.”

He grabs your hand and turns on his heel, pulling you right past the register and out the door.

(Don’t worry, Grandma got a ride home and is safe and sound- neither Joel nor our reader would never leave her hanging).

@pedritosdarling @lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @justkinsey @littleseasiren @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @kmc1989 @hallecarey1

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #lumberjack!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #lumberjack!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #lumberjack au #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the fire

lilac, chapter eight

a/n: hehehhehehehehheheh (but in a smutty way)

summary: “I can light the fire if you’d like.” 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, renovating an inn, only one bed, fireplace sex, kissing, dry humping, size kink, crying during sex, dirty talk, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (because this is just porn. no one is getting pregnant, I'm just craving the intimacy. let them be hoes and live out the fantasy)

word count: 3076

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Tossing and turning one last time on the couch, you finally gave up with a gentle sigh. At least you’d gotten an hour or two before you stirred from your light slumber, the butterflies still fluttering in your stomach dooming you to lay here on the sofa till the sun came up. 

Getting up, you wrapped the woolly blanket around your frame, the borrowed shirt barely coming down to cover up your bum, and tip-toed over towards the small kitchenette. Careful not to turn on the tap too forcefully, the slow trickle took a while to fill up the glass you’d acquired after peeking through a few of the cupboards. 

With one hand clutching the blanket that swaddled you, the other one that held the glass gently turned the water off before raising the drink up towards your lips to soothe your dry throat. 

Hearing the floorboards behind you suddenly creak, you quickly spun around and discovered the source to naturally be none other than the person who lived here, “Pete! I mean, Frank! H-hi,” he stepped a bit closer, consequently letting the moonlight bathe across his form, the jaw-dropping vision, unfortunately, causing the drink to slip out of your butterfingers, harshly shattering against the floor and sending a tiny wave of water crashing onto your toes. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and that was it, just the relaxed grey fabric clinging dangerously low on his hips. Ripping your now wide eyes away from his bare and burly chest, you forced your vision down to meet the shards at your feet, “oh, shit…” 

Bending down to clean it up, it didn’t take long before another pair of hands also began to carefully pick up the pieces.

“Sorry, I frightened you.”

“No, no, you didn’t, I’m sorry, I’m just a clutz,” you avoided his gaze as you straightened back up, following his lead as he tossed the broken glass into the sink, “and I’m sorry about waking you, I thought I was being quiet, but–”

“You didn’t wake me, don’t worry.”

Wiping your damp hands dry on the blanket still hanging from your shoulders, you finally met his gaze, “well, then I’m sorry about breaking your glass.” 

“It’s just a glass,” he uttered earnestly, faintly shaking his head, “you can’t sleep?” 

“I could, for a little bit at least, but uh, no,” you wrapped the blanket tighter around your form, one of your palms coming to rub your upper arm over it, hoping that the friction might combat the middle of the night chill you couldn’t seem to shake.

“Are you cold?” he noticed, and your hand subsequently froze in its subconscious movements. 

“A bit, but I’m okay.”

“I can light the fire if you’d like,” he gestured back to the hearth located beside your makeshift sleeping arrangement.

“Oh,” your eyebrows gently shot up at his kindness, “uh, sure, if it’s not too much trouble.” 

Your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to his frame as he soon ignited the fire, his broad back turned to you as you slowly sank down onto the rug at the foot of the couch, melting back against the bottom of it as your mind floated away to sinful places. 

“There,” he sat down the box of matches and leaned back a bit to regard the flame taking a hold, “that should do it.”

As he scooted back to join you on the floor, eyes fast on the fire while yours were still fixated on him, you soon heard your voice pipe up, “hey Frank? Can I ask you something?” to which he simply hummed in confirmation, “that thing you told me last night, when you said that you did some stuff…”

A slow nod stirred his head, “yeah…”

“What were they? Was it something bad? Something illegal? Are you some criminal on the run?” you added half-jokingly, “should I be worried about, I don’t know, the FBI or someone bursting through those doors at any time?” 

Staring back into the crackling flame, he simply offered a gentle shake of his head, “no.” 

“No?” you cocked your head, leaning forward a bit to catch his distant gaze. 

Finding your eyes, he then repeated steadily, “no.”

“Is that all?” a nervous chuckle bubbled out past your lips, “no?”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, he said, “for now, yeah.” 

Gazing back at him, a gentle smile eventually warmed your features, “alright.” 

“I wanna tell you,” he stressed, breathing deep as he averted his soulful eyes, “I wanna share everything with you, I just–… not yet…”

Seizing his hand, you gave it a soft squeeze, “it’s okay, I don’t want you to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.” 

Blinking back at you again, you then watched as his spine slowly relaxed back against the base of the sofa, eyes eventually flickering back towards the fireplace as his fingers readjusted, weaving in with your own. 

Tilting your head down, you gazed at your conjoined hands, turning them a bit so that his was on top. It was kind of comical how much bigger his was than yours. The back of it almost reminded you of a windowpane on a rainy autumn day with the way his prominent veins popped out and snaked over the callused skin just like streaks of water would dance down the surface of the glass. Reaching out, almost unconsciously, you traced the fine lines stretching across his flesh with your fingertip. 

After you had drawn over every little story the back of his palm had to tell, your interlocked hands then suddenly began to move as your eyes flickered up to see Frank, softly illuminated in the flickering firelight, slowly raising the back of yours up to his lips. 

You had no idea anything could ever feel as soft as his pillowy peck felt against your knuckles. Finding your dazzled gaze, he held it as he gently twisted your hand, gaining enough access to place a trickle of kisses along the inside of your wrist. 

And the next thing you knew, as if he was a magnet drawing you to him, your lips pressed against his in a zealous kiss. 

As you felt his fingers find your jaw on their mission to weave into your hair, you found yourself crawling closer, so close in fact that the blanket wrapped around you fell to the floor, never to be thought of again, especially not when you eagerly slid into his lap, a shaky sigh quivering against his tongue as you did so. 

You didn’t care that you were running out of air, how could you when his pecks were so intoxicating and his warmth so inviting? Wrapping your arms around his neck, you soon sensed his wide palms run down your spine, effectively turning you into goo every time his dreamy touch just shyly peeked under the hem of the oversized shirt you wore or whenever his fingertips just ever so slightly sneaked pasted the elastic of your waistband, never actually getting anywhere, but just the shear cracking of the seal drove you nuts. 

So why wouldn’t you begin to rock down into his lap? Sure, you were already on top of the guy with his tongue down your throat, but you still didn’t feel like you were close enough.

Finally, when you felt as if your heart might actually burst out of your chest, you reeled back, panting as you uttered, “fuck, my pulse is beating so fast…” blinking back into his dark eyes through your heavy lashes, you abruptly grabbed one of his hands and, without truly pondering it, tugged it closer, “here,” placing it right beneath your left peak, “feel.” 

His long fingers sprawled across your ribs, frozen and framing the crest as he sucked in a deep breath, staring back into your eyes you heard his deep timbre shoot straight to your throbbing core, “it is…” he slowly confirmed your rapid pulse, “are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you hazily nodded, his gentle question warming your heart. 

“Do you wanna–…” you saw him concentrate on not letting his yearning touch follow its desire and enclose around your boob among other intimate locations, “do you wanna stop?” 

With the lightest of shakes to your head, you asked, “do you?” which he promptly answered as you felt his palm begin to move, gently gliding up till he cupped your tit, his broad thumb lightly swiping across, grazing over the pebbly nipple that made its excitement more then clear through his dark t-shirt that hung loosely around your frame. 

You couldn’t help but let out a gasp at how good it felt. Toes curling, your hips instinctively rocked down in search of release as you then grabbed onto his bearded cheeks and seized his lips once again. 

With a palm at the small of your back, Frank insistently tugged you closer, sending you further up his strong thighs till the palpable tent in his sweatpants nudged against you. Whimpering longingly into the kiss, it hadn’t been till now that you had truly noticed just how hard he was. 

Fervently grinding down against his desire, your heated kiss briefly paused just long enough for him to scoop your shirt up and over your head, carelessly tossing it to the side before his arms swiftly enclosed around your frame, hands sprawling over your bare skin of your back as if he was starving for it.

Drawing you even closer towards him, pressing your bare chest against his, you felt his kisses begin to wander. Across your jaw, down your neck and all the way down to your tits. Mouth full, surely littering your soft peaks with lavender love marks, he gazed up at you, holding it as he then took over your desperate grinding, grip digging into your hips as he bewitchingly rocked you down against him. 

But that look he sent you should have come with a warning, because pretty much as soon as he flashed it to you, that’s when your hand shot down between your tangled forms, reaching into his pants to truly feel what was driving you mad.

His head tilted back and collided with the plush seat, his mouth agape as he savoured every little pet you offered him as you fished his heavy length out of its restraints. 

It was almost a growl that vibrated deep within his throat as he then buried his fists in the cotton of the underwear that stretched across your ass, retroactively pulling them tight enough against you for the soaked gusset to briefly tug against your folds before one of his hands shot down to touch you properly. 

Though he didn’t pet you through your panties long before you felt him suddenly yank you up to your knees in order to tug the last bit of your clothes off. Raising your shins, one at a time to help him get them off your form completely, your own fingers eagerly mirrored his as you tugged both his sweatpants and the boxers beneath down his thighs, though you didn’t get to finish the job yourself as he impatiently took over and snatched them the rest of the way off. 

You both let out a molten moan the moment you settled back down into his lap, a breathy, “fucking hell,” also flowed from Frank’s lips as your cunt drenched his girth in your want. Palm cupping your flush cheek, he whispered enchantingly, “you’re so fucking beautiful…”

Nuzzling his sturdy nose against your own, you rocked against him so perfectly, so electrically, that if you kept going even just a minute longer, then you’d surely cum right then and there.  

“Frank, please,” you whimpered as you felt your pussy clench around nothing, “I wanna feel you,” his hands raked all across your spine, “I need to feel you, all of you, please, I feel so fucking empty.”

“Yeah?” he tilted his chin back, catching your fluttering gaze. 

“P-please,” you practically trembled at this point. 

Arms already fast around you, he swiftly scooped you up and laid you back down on to the rug, capturing your lips in a brief kiss as he settled on top of you like some carnal deity. 

Reaching down, he only brushed his bulbous tip through your folds twice, tapping the weight lightly against your buzzing clit, before you tangled your legs behind him and drew him in. 

Perhaps the adrenaline had been to blame, but the brief encounter you previously had with Frank’s cock hadn’t been substantial enough as the light touches hadn’t been able to warn you of the daunting girth he was packing. 

As he slowly sank in, a rushed, “shh, shh, shh,” flowed out pasted your lips as you with suddenly wide eyes landed a few trembling taps to his abdomen, pleating him to a halt. 

“What? What?” he asked, eyes scanning your features as you breathed deep, trying to overcome his fierce size.

“Holy fuck,” you whimpered breathlessly, eyes fluttering uncontrollably, “w-why didn’t you tell me you were so–, so–, fuck… so big?” 

A chuckle suddenly rumbled through him, “well I’m sorry, I thought you had already–, uh… do you need me to pull back out? We don’t need to do it like this if you–”

“No, no, no, don’t, don’t,” the words spilled out of you like the water from the glass you had spilled earlier, “just give me a second, I just need a second.”

Brows knitted, your eyes didn’t leave his as you reeled in the overwhelming, yet astoundingly pleasurable sensation, your walls slowly relaxing around his fat tip as you still felt so close to the edge, like just a tiny little feather could tip you over into ecstasy. 

Gentle caresses moving up and down the curve of your form, his soft smile soon brightened as he eventually zeroed in on your puffy pearl, your vibrant reaction being more than enough indication for him to know what was on the brink of occurring. 

His tight circles didn’t quit, even when you pussy clenched so tight that his tip popped straight out, he just kept going till your moans turned into cries, limbs grew chaotic and your hand shot down to tap his out, halting it to a complete standstill. 

“H-holy shit,” you panted, pulling him down to seize him lips, “holy shit…” you felt his glossy fingers trade the firm motions in with a gentle bit of contact, lightly cupping his slick palm against your puffy folds, shielding you in a way and kissing you softly as you took a moment to regain your vigor. 

“You good?” you eventually heard him check in.

“Am I good?” you chuckled, a light furrow crinkling up your brows, “Frank, you just gave me one of the best orgasms I’ve had in I don’t even know how long, but definitely the best one someone else has ever given to me. Yes, I’m good, I’m really good,” you giggled against his lips as you captured them in another kiss, “are you good?”

Echoing your light laughter, he rumbled, “yeah,” as if his painfully hard cock, throbbing against your stomach wasn’t enough of a clue. 

Lips glued to his, you reached down and curled your fingers around his dick, or at least as much as you could with your fingers barely meeting on the other side. Ravenous once again, you dragged him across your sensitive clit, his low groan mixing and mingling with your own before you nudged him against your entrance, welcoming him back inside once more. 

It was slow, oh so very slow with bountiful breaks dispersed throughout, but eventually, with a bit of patience and a tender touch, you worked up to a gentle rhythm. Though to say that it was gentle in no way meant it wasn’t intense, as the tears that promptly began to trickle down your cheeks effectively made that known. 

It only took one sniffle before Frank noticed, reacting quickly though not managing to open his mouth before you did, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, it’s just–, you feel so good,” you blubbered, nails clawing into his back, “having you touch me like this, feeling you inside of me, it just feels so good, please don’t stop,” you begged, your lust streaming through the hot tears, “I’m sorry, I’m not sad, I swear, I don’t know why I’m crying,” a giggle managed to bubble through, “just please don’t stop, please, pleas–”

But the rest of your whimpering words morphed into desperate moans as Frank delivered on exactly what you asked for and then some. Perhaps the palpable power he had on you finally went to his head as he then just let go and lost himself in the pleasure of your warmth.

You’d actually forgotten that he’d, up until now, only fucked you with a fraction of him, but when the air got suddenly punched out of your lungs as his heavy sack tapped feverishly against you, fat girth stretching you out and filling you up to the very brink, the overwhelming sensation wasn’t at all excruciating as you had feared, no, instead it genuinely sent your body straight to cloud nine. 

“I won’t stop,” he croaked as he rocked into you, “I promise, I won’t fucking stop,” timing the last few words with his frantic hips, driving into you with each and every word. 

“F-Frank, oh!” your eyes rolled in your skull as you sensed your thighs begin to tremble once more, the carpet beneath you beginning to burn from the friction his desperate pace was causing.

“Atta girl,” he groaned deliciously, “fucking hell, you’re gripping onto me so good, so fucking good,” just the tip of his nose ghosted against your own as he murmured, “sucking me back in, you feel so incredible, so–, fuck…” 

The lewd and sloppy melody of your connection reverberating throughout the cabin soon concluded with you both in a sweaty and jumbled pile, your thighs still quivering as he reached out for the forgotten blanket, tugging it over the both of you. 

Laying there on the floor, soothingly tangled and listening to the fire crackle, you felt yourself melt further into Frank’s form as his touch softly brushed across your tender skin, drawing soothing patterns as you held him close. 

“About–…” you then heard him hesitantly break the blissed-out silence, “about what you said earlier… last night…” craning your neck, you locked eyes with his as he admitted, “you scare me too.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle series #lumberjack au #marvel smut #the punisher smut #marvel x reader smut #jon bernthal smut

[navybrat817]

Navy how's our lumber snack doing with Christmas around the corner? Are they snuggled up by the fire with hot cocoa?

That's exactly what he's doing, nonnie!

By the Fireplace

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve is exactly where he needs to be. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Fluff, Steve experiencing peace, established relationship, Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Tiny ficlet for Beefcake and Tippy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The fireplace glowed with radiant flames as Steve took a seat on the floor beside you. He had added a couple of logs before he made the hot chocolate, the sweet scent of the warm beverage drifting to his nostrils before he took a sip. Soft music filled the air and he couldn’t help but smile when he caught you humming along. Like him, you didn’t want anything over-the-top for the holidays.

Just the pleasure of being with each other was more than enough.

“Don’t worry. I won’t damage your ears by singing,” you teased as you stretched a blanket over the two of you to share.

He chuckled as he wrapped a pair of strong arms around you. “It would take a lot more than your singing to damage my ears,” he teased back, brushing his beard along your cheek to make you giggle, the sound soft and pleasant. “So sing as much as you’d like.”

“I think I’ll just stick to writing,” you smiled, leaning into him with a gentle sigh. “Steve?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You didn’t say anything right away, but you did place a hand over his. “This is enough for you, right? This life?”

“It’s more than enough,” he answered without hesitation, hoping he hadn’t done or said something to make you think otherwise. He loved the home and life the two of you made together. If he did something to make you think otherwise, he’d have to remedy that immediately.

“Are you sure? There isn’t a small part of you that wishes you were fighting tonight?” You asked, tilting your head so you could stare into his eyes.

You once told Steve that you liked looking into people’s eyes because they always told the truth when some often weaved lies with their words. You chose to listen to the unspoken gazes. The eyes also conveyed so much emotion, the very windows to the soul because you could see right through them.

And he had nothing to hide from you.

He understood why you asked though. Deep down he was still the man of action who couldn’t turn a blind eye when things pointed south. But you were the one of the reasons he still occasionally fought. He had a home to defend and someone to come back to. Something to fight for.

You were his home.

“No. Not tonight,” he replied with an unwavering tone and stare so you’d know how serious he was. “This is exactly where I’m meant to be. Right by our fireplace with hot chocolate nearby and you in my arms.”

With soft eyes full of love, you brought your lips to his. It ignited a flame inside him almost as warm and bright as the crackling fire feet away. The pieces of his heart that he struggled to put together after the ice connected the moment the two of you met. You were his glue and strength.

And like the winter holiday encouraged, he felt a sense of love and peace by being in the moment.

Just like Bucky, Steve deserves peace, too. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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