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jobean12-blog · 5 months

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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

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 5 months

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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!”

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navybrat817 · 4 months

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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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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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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.

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georgiapeach30513 · 25 days

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#lumberjack AU #werewolf au #video #inspo

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eloquentreverie · 9 months

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concept: lumberjack! werewolf! curtis everett

#chris evans #cevanedit #cevansedit #cevansedits #chris evans moodboard #curtis everett #curtis everett moodboard #moodboards #lumberjack au #werewolf au #moodboard edit #my moodboards

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mostly-marvel-musings · 1 month

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Okay, lumberjack Tony with IM1 hairstyle, messy not slicked back. His outgrown hair suits him and I'm willing to die on this hill!!!!!

Yes? Yes. Definitely YES.

Not just the iconic goatee, this man looks so delicious in this unkempt look. Fuck me until I scream—

#the stark squad #anon asks #lumberjack au

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sourtomatola · 4 months

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Finally got this done ^^ even though I mostly do comics, I stuck with the stand on their own drawings ^^

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abiiors · 2 months

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its a cold winter. girlie is out looking for firewood. and stumbles into ross’ shop right before hes about to close. maybe hes just sold the last of the already chopped wood so he takes girlie around back and watching the incredibly hot lumberjacks got her clinching her thighs. which he takes notice to. so he closes up shop. fucks her good and sends her home with free wood and his number

it's a cold winter. girlie is a writer with a deadline fast approaching and she's at her wit's end with writer's block and but one saving grace--her semi-secluded cabin in the woods. and she already feels much better there than in the city, apart from the fact that it's freezing cold and lacking in firewood and she has no option but to drive to the nearest town which is really a tiny village if we're being technical (not super far from the cabin thankfully). anyway, he's about to close shop but she gives him the huge eyes and a very sweet "please" and the gruff lumberjack that he is... melts instantly.

anyway, it's not long before she has an experience that can only be described as religious while watching him roll up the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows, exposing his heavily tattooed, very veiny forearms. and she watches from a distance, jaw dropping more and more with each swing of his axe, getting hotter and more bothered every time the wood splinters and he wipes sweat off his brow. until he comes back inside with a pile of firewood, looking all sweaty and hot.

ofc he instantly clocks the wide, blown-out pupils and the flush over her face and the very noticeable fuck me eyes.

and let's just say he knows more than one way to keep her warm that night <3

#sending her back to that cabin with hickeys between her thighs and his number in her phone 😁#fucks the writer's block out of her if i say so myself #ross macdonald #lumberjack au #✉️

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tobnikk · 1 month

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Woah a Y/N shitpost about “bread”?? Dear lord have mercy I’m too much of a simp,, struggle with me folks😔🫵💞💞💞 if I got any of the credits or names wrong I do apologise- (all credits for instagram btw-)

Backyard @//bp10146

Ants @//bonniebelzebuth

House of Cards @//rewllii @//imconfusedlikealot

Mango @//rachel130x

Rio @//tales_ofthe_end

Sweet Place @//angelbigwhale

Reboot @//bloodred_iscream

Mind Broken @//hello_jsab_world77

Satanist @//taikoko_

Jeremy (oc not au) @//fantasmadelacafeteria

Game Master @//i_eepy

Blackberry @//pxrplehxart

Colour Midas @//ask_cuphead_oc

Vocaloid @//kohakufox1

Laboratory @//ac_blueberrypaw

Lumberjack @//0spacemaggot0

Hyper pop Punk @//notsoluckygreenclover

Hidden Rainbow @//blueraven666official

Priest @//your_local_invader

Beach Town @//pink_sugar_berry

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mrsbarnesdolly · 2 years

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Y'ALL I NEED A MIRACLE

I can't find this lumberjack!bucky fic. I think it was a series and I only read the first part. Reader is a sales person at a local corner store or something and Bucky likes this sticky bun kind of thing. Also Bucky and reader have fun in the back of the shop before Bucky and Sam go out for a job 😩

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfiction #lumberjack!bucky x reader #lumberjack!bucky barnes #lumberjack!bucky barnes x reader #lumberjack au #lumberjack!sam wilson #bucky likes sticky buns #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #help me find this #help me find a fic

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jobean12-blog · 9 months

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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

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months

Text

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

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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.”

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navybrat817 · 6 months

Text

The Red Woods

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve tells you a story as he keeps you warm by the fire. Word Count: Over 2.7k Warnings: Implied sex, spooky story (violence), attempted scare, humor, Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #5 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense belongs to Lumberjack!Steve thanks to this poll winner. ❤️ 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 moon and stars lit up the night sky, beckoning you to go outside and bask in the beauty. Cold settled into your bones as you stepped outside and shivered. It was chillier than you expected and you debated going back into the comfort of the cabin. Steve had already started the bonfire nearby though and you knew the heat from the flames would warm you up.

So would your lumberjack.

Steve carried an extra load of wood from the shed as you walked toward the fire. He set up a spot for you to sit beside each other, but you had a feeling he'd have you in his lap as the night went on. He liked having your body close to his, whether it was after a long day of work or coming home after a mission. You enjoyed it, too, because he enveloped you with his love.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, catching the slight tremble in your body as you took a seat. "When I suggested the fire, I didn't think it would be this cold."

"It's okay," you assured him as he added another log to the fire. The rich and powerful scent from the smoke soothed you as you stared into the flames. "But what made you so adamant to have one tonight?"

"No particular reason," he replied casually, wiping his hands before he sat down beside you. It was a bit too casual, but the red and orange from the flames dancing along his face distracted you. The urge to reach up and touch his beard was strong. "Wasn't something I really got to do in the city."

Part of you would always love the city. So would Steve. There was always something to do and inspiration could be found around every corner. It didn't mean it was home though. It was a place to visit, to remember. Your place in the woods with each other was where you were meant to be.

And the love of your life provided plenty of inspiration if you ever needed it.

"I don't remember ever having a fire there," you said after thinking about it. There weren’t many places to have fires. Your old apartment didn’t even have a fireplace.

"Hardly ever saw the stars," he added.

You nodded a little, your fingers scratching along his chin. If your touch was too cold, he didn't make a big deal out of it. "I didn't really get to appreciate the stars from my old apartment either," you said, tilting your head to look up at the sky. "But out here? It's like they serenade us. It's a chorus that resonates with the moon until the sun comes up."

Steve wrapped an arm around you, allowing your body to heat up more. He was your own personal heater. "Even when you're not writing, your words are beautiful."

You couldn't blame the fire or his body for the heat that filled your face. His opinion on your writing meant the world to you. "You're just saying that to get in my pants," you teased.

He chuckled as his mouth moved close to your ear. "I already did that this morning," he whispered.

You exhaled, remembering the two of you tangled up in each other. Lazy, soft kisses and lingering touches as he made love to you. His large body pinning yours to the mattress, his hips thrusting in a slow rhythm like the gentle waves of an ocean. You nearly sobbed when you came, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he quickly followed.

You had lovers before Steve, but he taught you the true meaning of making love.

"And I'm sure you'll do it again before the sun comes up," you whispered.

"If I have my way," he said, pulling you closer. Your hand fell to his shirt, gripping the flannel. Your super soldier was insatiable some days, but you weren't going to complain when you both reaped the benefits of his appetite.

"It's too bad the gang isn't here. Otherwise we could tell spooky stories," you said. Maybe you could invite Bucky and Jewel over another night for dinner. It was nice that Steve had one of his best friends not too far away. Sam also didn’t mind making trips to visit.

"Well, you and I can still tell stories to pass the time," he said, kissing the top of your head. "How about I start? Even though I’m not the best storyteller."

“That’s a lie. You’re a great storyteller,” you said, lifting your head and seeing a hint of a blush in his cheeks. With his deep, commanding voice, the man could read the phone book to you and you'd listen. You teased at times that he could do a podcast if he wanted to. Or erotic recordings. "And I don't scare easily, but you can try."

You didn’t mind a healthy dose of fear now and again. It was natural and helpful in some situations. It was also fun and exciting in the right setting, like this.

"I'm sure you've heard all sorts of different stories about creatures and spirits who live in the woods," he began, which earned a nod from you. "Local legend says there's a spirit right here who controls part of the forest: The Lumberman."

"Wow. A lumberjack is telling a story about a lumberman? How original," you said, your deadpan expression dropping when he pinched your side. "Hey! I was kidding."

"Let me tell the story," he said, brushing his lips against the top of your head again as an apology. "They say long ago that a lumberman lived in the deepest part of the woods. He had no family or friends and mostly kept to himself. He only ventured into town to sell the wood he chopped down."

"A loner," you said, already invested.

"Yeah, he was. Not unfriendly. Just a quiet man. And all was well until a local woman went missing. The town searched everywhere for her and couldn't find her. It was like she vanished without a trace. Her family demanded answers, so people shifted the blame to him," Steve explained, a slight breeze rolling by.

You frowned as you listened. It was just a story, but you knew how dangerous mob mentality could be. "What happened?"

"A group of men confronted him in his home and demanded to know what he did with her body. He swore he didn't know what happened and that he would never hurt a soul, but they didn't listen. They were out for blood,” he said, sadly shaking his head. “When he still refused to admit to any wrongdoing, the men took turns hacking him up with one of his axes and burned his cabin to the ground. They even brought the axe back as some sort of trophy, stained with his blood."

"Jesus," you whispered, scooting a bit closer.

"It was only after they killed him did the girl show back up in town alive and well. Not a scratch on her. She had gone a couple towns over to meet up with some guy," he said, rubbing your arm.

"So they condemned an innocent man to death," you said.

"They did," he said, nodding toward the trees. "Most of the townspeople didn't venture to his part of the woods out of fear that his spirit would seek revenge. And they were right."

You raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

"Over the years, hikers and locals who were brave enough to go on his old land went missing. Their bodies were never found, but people say you can hear their screams echo through the air if you get close enough,” he said, pausing to look around with a somber expression. "And that they became part of the trees."

Glancing around as well, it was difficult to make out the trees in the darkness. "They became part of the trees? How?"

"As you get closer to his land, you can see faces twisted in pain in the bark if you look closely enough. Some even say there’s blood in the sap and dripping from the branches. They even renamed that part of the forest the Red Woods since the paths have inexplicable red dirt, like blood had seeped into the soil," he said, lowering his voice as if to tell you a secret. "It’s like a warning to turn back."

"That is not why they call it the Red Woods," you argued, though you weren’t completely sure now. You actually had no idea why the area got that name.

"That’s how the story’s told."

"So an innocent man was hacked to pieces in his home," you said slowly. "And now he kills anyone who steps into his territory?"

"Condemned to a terrible fate. Just like he was," he said as simple as that. "And people still go missing to this day."

You smiled a bit. There was nothing at all uplifting or funny about the story, but Steve spoke with such seriousness that you almost believed the tale was real. "Okay, but why is he still haunting the woods? If it's revenge on the men who killed him or the townspeople in general, he wouldn’t go after random, innocent hikers."

Steve’s head tilted as he looked at you, something a bit more sinister in his gaze. "Isn’t it obvious? They took his axe. He’s waiting for someone to return it."

A heartbeat passed before you huffed. "Of course, he is. The axe that the men brought back as a trophy," you said, gesturing toward the toolshed. "It’s too bad you don’t have it. You could help put his soul to rest."

"What if I told you I do have it?" he asked.

Your heart rate increased before you huffed again. "You’re a great storyteller, but a terrible liar, Beefcake."

His eyes shot to yours, maintaining eye contact as he reached beside him. You raised an eyebrow when he held up an axe. You had to admit, you knew his tools well and that was one you didn’t recognize. "See? Still stained with blood," he told you, holding it closer to the fire so you could see the blade. "Should we go into the Red Woods and return it?"

You didn’t admit that your stomach turned a little as you brought your hands up and slowly clapped. "Bravo. You went all out for this story. And, no, I’m not going into the woods when it’s this cold out," you said before a snap from a twig nearby drew your attention, making you tense up. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, setting the axe down.

"Oh, you had to have heard that. Your hearing is ten times better than mine," you argued, standing up and narrowing your eyes to try and see when you heard another twig snap. You froze before you began to giggle. "Okay, Bucky! Come on out! I know Steve put you up to this."

Steve jumped to his feet and pushed you behind him. He wouldn't let anything happen to you. "Buck isn’t here. He's at home with Jewel," he said in a hushed tone.

"Wait, you didn’t convince him to come out of the woods to try and scare me?" You asked, placing your hands on his back when he shook his head. "Okay. It’s probably just an animal then."

SNAP.

"I don’t think an animal did that," he whispered, guiding you toward the cabin. Maybe it wasn’t a joke after all. "I think we should-"

"Give…" you stopped at the sound of a demonic voice just beside the toolshed, your heart thumping. "Me…" a man stepped out of the darkness, dragging his left foot behind him. "My…" His decayed skin was caked with blood as he lifted a hand. "AXE!"

Your eyes widened before you snapped out of your stupor. "Oh, fuck this," you muttered, pulling away from Steve who called after you. Grabbing your shotgun from the porch, you brought it to your shoulder and cocked it. "I don’t have an axe, Lumberman, but I’ll shoot you in your fucking face if you take a step closer."

"Whoa!" Steve shouted, holding out his hand for the "zombie" to stop. "Don’t move. She’s serious!"

"Fuck," the zombie muttered, tapping the side of his neck. "Seriously? I really thought I’d get you," the demonic voice fading to a normal tone.

"CLINT?!" you guessed, lowering your gun. The former Hawkeye nodded. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"For the record, this wasn’t my idea," Steve said, an innocent look in his blue eyes. "And I told you she wouldn’t get scared. I don’t know why you insisted on this."

No wonder he wanted to have a fire tonight.

"Okay, okay. It was my idea. Everyone is off doing their own thing and I just wanted to have some fun," Clint explained, walking closer toward the fire as he began to peel the makeup away and toss it in to burn. "This didn’t work on Jewel either! She grabbed one of Bucky’s knives and almost stabbed me."

You laughed a little. No doubt Bucky was both proud of and scared for his girl for that move. "Maybe because, I don’t know, in the story Steve told the Lumberman was hacked to pieces and you’re clearly not. There was also no indication that the Lumberman could leave his territory. Everyone went missing on his land. So why would he be here?"

Clint exchanged a look with Steve. "She has a point," your husband said.

These men are defenders of the universe.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for that," you said, putting the gun back where it belonged. "I have to ask though, why prank me? And why prank Jewel?"

Clint shifted a bit on his feet. "So the guys could be heroes? But seeing as how you grabbed a gun and Jewel grabbed a knife, I think you two are good."

You had to smile as you turned your attention back to Steve. "You wanted to be my hero and protect me from a zombie?"

With a sheepish smile, Steve nodded and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I did," he said in a small voice. "It’s stupid, right?"

Your man, a true hero who saved hundreds of lives, simply wanted to protect you from anything bad. You never loved him more. "It’s not stupid. I think it's kind of sweet," you assured him. "Clint, please, put out the fire and get the hell out of here. Steve, get inside so we can have sex and get warm."

Clint coughed into his hand. "Can I at least get a coffee before I go? I was out there for a while and it’s a little chilly."

Steve ignored his friend as he gave you a smile. "You’re really going to sleep with me after we tried to prank you?" he asked, looking at his feet for a split second. "And you know I’d never want to scare you, right?"

"Yeah, I’m really going to sleep with you. And I know the last thing you’d ever want to do is frighten me. All you want to do is protect me," you smiled. You weren’t going to deny yourself pleasure, especially since you were starting to get cold again. "But for the record, this is pity sex for failing your prank and not grabbing the gun first," you added, giggling when he took two large steps toward you.

Clint stared after you as Steve grabbed and pulled you toward him, fastening his mouth to yours. "So, is that a no on the coffee?"

Your friend eventually got his coffee before he went on his way. After Steve thoroughly wore you out, he promised to stick to cuddling in front of a fire moving forward. Making love in front of a fire was also on the table, whether it was in front of the fireplace or outside under the stars. Though he never did tell you where he got that axe or why it really looked like it was stained with blood.

But maybe you could convince Clint to take that axe into the Red Woods and show Steve how to really scare someone.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Outside the Lines 1

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 shouldn’t be posting this. Oops.

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You walk on your toes, eyes to the floor as you focus on placing your feet within the edges of the tiled pattern. You can’t touch the cracks! You nearly stumble as the front of your flat mary janes come close to the line. You bite your lip and look ahead to the door at the end of the hall.

The frosted glass window set into walnut beckons you onwards, a beacon of familiarity among the strange. You step over the next line as footsteps clamour behind you. The hurried figure bowls you over as he passes, almost if he doesn’t see you.

Your sole lands across a crack and you gasp as you face the man and he apologises in a dull mutter. He pauses and glances at you, a wrinkle between his brows as you quickly step within the lines. Anxiety thrums in your chest and you step three times back and forth within the square tile.

“Are you… okay?” his deep voice draws your attention back to him as he watches your feet, gaze slowly creeping up your long plaid skirt and baggy peacoat.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you insist in a small wisp as you rub your hands together, “it’s just… I stepped on the line.”

“Um, alright,” he tilts his head as he arches a brow, “I’m sorry, I’m late.”

“It’s… fine,” you turn back and begin your deliberate pace towards the end of the hall.

You feel him watching you. You don’t like it. You don’t like to be looked at. That’s why you stay inside. You only come out for your appointments, otherwise, Dr. Makira would admit you again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he lingers and you watch his gloved fingers twiddle against his jeans.

“Sure,” you shy away from him as you step diagonally to the next tile, “I don’t want to make you late.”

Your teeth chatter and you close your mouth. You can’t remember the last stranger you spoke to. You only ever gave your name to the secretary, Miranda, then waited your turn with the doctor. You don’t look up and you certainly don’t speak to strangers.

“Mmhm,” he hums and you watch his boots twist on the tile and squeak as he marches away. You wince as he steps on the lines but focus on keeping inside in your own progression towards the office.

His steps fade to nothing and voices carry from the open door. When you get there, he’s nowhere in sight, not that you search for him. You sign in with Miranda and cross to your seat, two to the left of the door. That’s where you sit, every time.

You take off your jacket and fold it neatly over your lap as you sit, smoothing the fabric. You hook one foot behind the other and bounce impatiently. You try to gather your energy for your session but your mind wanders back to the man and how you tread the line. That was bad luck. He must be too.

🌲

He’s there again. You enter the office, a little hop over the threshold onto the carpet. You give your name as you usually do but Miranda knows it. You sanitize after you put down your signature and turn. He’s in your seat. Your chest knots and your hands ball.

You teeter and glance around. There’s several empty seats but not yours. You feel uneasy as you stand beside the row of seats, just beside the door and stand, rocking on your heels. He’s in your seat!

The filmy pages of the magazine flip in his gloved hands and he sighs. You clamp your lips and tap your cheek; one two three.

“Are you going to sit?” he asks flatly.

You stare at the Dr. Makira’s door. You tap your shoulder; one two three. He clears his throat and sniffs.

“Hey, I said, aren’t you going to sit?” he repeats.

Your eyes round and you peek over at him. You shake your head. He grimaces.

“No offense but you’re kinda bothering me just standing there,” he says.

You shrug and look at the door again. You wring your hands and sway, shifting your weight from heel to heel.

“Fine,” he grumbles and tosses the magazine so it slides past the pile.

Your eyes flit over and cling to the disorder he created. You try to resist but you can’t. You go over and straighten the stack, pushing them straight with your fingers. You back up and take out your sanitizer. He clicks his tongue.

“What’s going on?” he snarls as if you’re a gnat buzzing around his head.

You rub your hands together and bare your teeth awkwardly. You take a breath.

“You’re in my seat,” you utter.

“What?” he huffs.

“That’s my seat, I sit there,” you point to the chair, “but it’s alright. I’ll stand.”

“Your…” he grips his thick leg, just above his knee. He stands and you back up, frightened by the sudden movement, “go ahead.”

“No, it’s okay, I–”

“Please, sit,” he says, “I’m here for therapy, not to be driven nuts.”

“Sir,” Miranda warns, there’s a strict policy against that sort of language.

“Sorry,” he mutters and moves to a new chair, “there ya go.”

“Thank you,” You remove your jacket and fold it neatly. You spin and sit, the seat warm from his prior occupation. It doesn’t feel right. You tap three times on the wool and fidget.

“What’s wrong now?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you lie, “nothing wrong.” Your lips continue to move noiselessly, ‘nothing, nothing, nothing…’

He squints and looks away, checking his watch. Just as he drops his hand, the door opens and Dr. Makira emerges, bidding farewell to her previous patient.

“James,” she calls out and the man stands.

“I told you, doc,” he crosses the waiting room, “it’s Bucky.”

The door shuts behind him as she welcomes him in and your eyes linger on it. You sit back, then lean forward again. Something’s off. He messed it all up!

🌲

He passes you again but this time he doesn’t disturb your progress up the tiled floor. You watch his shoulders as he enters ahead of you and put your feet down one at a time. You wait behind him as he chats with Miranda, asking her to reschedule his next appointment. You stand at the door until he finishes.

You step up, check-in, and sanitize. He sits to the right of your usual seat. You claim the chair, this time it feels better, and fold your jacket over your lap. You cross your ankles and run your hands over the wool.

You sense him watching you and peek up. His brows lift and his cheek dimples as if amused. You tap your nose three times and correct yourself. You look at the door that says Dr. Makira. You push your lips together and breathe through your nose.

You rock and still yourself, nerves swirling in your stomach. You glance over again. He’s still watching you. Now, he seems really intrigued. It happens. You take the bus and people stare at you there too.

“Please, stop,” you whisper.

“Pardon?” he asks as he leans forward.

“Looking at me,” you eke out a little louder, “stop looking at me.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles and scratches his scruffy jaw, “I wasn’t meaning to stare.”

You harrumph as he finally looks away. You twine your fingers and tap your toe three times. You try not to squirm, try not to go through your routines, but it’s hard. That’s why you come here. To try to fix yourself. Makira says it’s not fixing though, no, it’s understanding, acknowledging, and awareness. You are improving yourself, not fixing.

“Bucky,” Makira gets his name right that time and you realise that you’d been staring at him that time.

You turn away as he stands and goes to her, his voice echoing in your head even after the door closes. Maybe you should change your appointment too.

🌲

You walk across the pavement, the cracks disordered and harder to avoid. The bus stop isn’t far but takes longer as you dodge your fellow pedestrians and the lines around your feet. You peer ahead, just ten more steps.

“Hey,” the voice calls your name and you hear someone jogging behind you. You stop and face the man as he catches up to you. It’s him; Bucky.

You frown and take a step back, looking down to avoid the crack.

“You take the bus?” he asks.

You blink and nod.

“Well, I can’t imagine that’s fun for you,” he says, “I’m just on my way out as well, you want a ride?”

You shake your head frantically. You undo your top button then do it back up nervously.

“Figured I’d offer,” he turns his hands up, “that’s all. Being friendly.”

“Thank you, but…” you croak.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you,” he cups his ear.

“No, thank you,” you say louder, “I don’t talk to strangers.”

“Well, you’re talking to me and I don’t think I’m a stranger,” he argues, “you see me almost every week, you know my name and I know yours. So?”

“I don’t…” your heart races. Are you being rude? Dr. Makira has been trying to help with your social interaction. You try to remember her tips. “How are you?”

“What?” he sputters, confused.

“Oh, I… was trying to be polite so…” you swallow.

“I’m doing fine,” he says, “how are you?”

“I am… good?” you answer.

“Is that a question?” he wonders.

You shy away from his blue eyes. This isn’t going well. A rumble putters down the curb and speeds past the empty stop ahead of you. You let out a disappointed breath and watch your bus turn the corner.

“Shit, was that your bus?” he asks.

You nod and clap three times. He doesn’t seem to notice or if he does, he doesn’t show it.

“Well, then I guess you have no choice, I’m trying to be polite too,” he offers sweetly, his usually stony voice light, “so can I do you a favour and drive you home?”

You look at the sidewalk below your feet. You feel mean saying no. You remember how you made him move from your seat. He could’ve been mean then. He wasn’t. It was just a drive. Twenty minutes at most.

“Okay,” you relent.

“Great, I parked over in that lot,” he points just behind the stop.

You nod and wait for him to lead you. You follow behind him but he slows to meet your pace as you walk between the lines. It takes a bit but you get across the lot as he goes ahead to open the passenger door of a silver car with tinted windows.

“Can I sit in the back?” you ask as you near, “I always sat in the back…” you let your voice drift off.

“Sure,” he closes the door and opens the other, “get in.”

“Thank you,” you near and step past him, looking inside before you go further.

You slide onto the seat and buckle the belt. You sanitize and put the bottle back in the purse strapped across your middle. He gets in the front.

The car smells like his cologne. He fixes the rearview and pushes the button that turns the engine. You’ve never seen that before.

“I like your hat,” he says as he shifts into gear, “it’s cute.”

You reach up and touch the bow along your felt hat. You smile. “Thank you.”

“What’s your address? So I don’t get too lost.”

“Oh,” you stretch your fingers as your hands sweat and recite your address. He types it into the touchscreen that sits where the radio should be.

He steers out of the spot and slowly rolls around the lot.

“Shoot,” he says as the screen lights up with a chirp, “I totally forgot. Do you mind if I pick up a friend on the way?”

“A friend,” you let out a heavy breath, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t have to,” he assures as he flips his blinker on, “but it’s on the way and it would be easier.”

“I… guess,” you feel bad making the rules in his car.

“He’s a good guy,” he says, “don’t worry. If you want, I’ll even tell him not to talk to you.”

“I… I’m sorry,” you hang your head.

“For what?” he asks as he turns out into traffic.

“For being so weird,” you say, “I know I am but I can’t help it.”

“Weird? Not at all, doll,” he replies, “trust me, I’m not much of a people person either.”

“Oh?” you mull his words.

Silence pervades the car as your thoughts take you away. You straighten your hat and tap your cheek, trying to conceal the habitual movement. If he doesn’t like people, why did he go out of his way to offer you a ride?

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #au #lumberjack au #series #outside the lines #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #winter soldier

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