#he wants to be at peace with everything around him and inside his own head so he fakes it. it hasn't worked yet. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cassiemaebarnes · 2 months ago

Text

Dreaming of You

Bucky x reader

Summary: When Bucky has a good dream about you, he wakes up confused - and with the best sleep he's had in years. When he continues having these soft dreams, he begins to believe that maybe he does deserve comfort, despite his messed up past.

Word Count: 9,220

Bucky didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment he was staring blankly at the ceiling of his room in the compound, the next, there was quiet. A different quiet.

He was lying in a bed. Not his own.

The sheets weren’t a deep navy blue. They were soft and rumpled, a light gray that smelled faintly of vanilla and something else – something familiar. There was no hum of the compound’s lights, no distant clang of Tony’s tech or the low murmur of the common room TV. Just stillness.

He blinked slowly, turning his head, expecting to find an explanation. But what he saw made him freeze.

You were there. Curled against him like you belonged there – like you chose to be there. Head resting gently on his chest, breath even and slow, your hand lightly curled into the fabric of his t-shirt. Your leg was slung over his like you’d done this before. Like it was natural. Like it was safe.

For a moment, he just stared.

You didn’t talk to him much. Not in a bad way – you were just quiet, like he was. But when you did speak, it was soft and easy. You didn’t tiptoe around him or treat him like a project. You gave him space. And somehow, without trying, you’d found your way into the parts of his life that felt…normal.

But this – this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t real.

And then he saw it.

His stomach twisted violently.

The metal arm. Shining silver. Red star on the shoulder.

The Winter Soldier.

Panic crawled up his throat.

He tried to move – tried to pull away – but he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t obey. His left arm, the metal one, lay at his side like dead weight. His right arm, the flesh one, was wrapped around you, and he hadn’t even realized it. He wanted to pull it back, wanted to get away before he hurt you.

The pressure built in his chest, heart hammering like a warning bell. His mind raced. He was him again. That version of himself. Cold. Weaponized. Dangerous.

Why couldn’t he move?

Why wouldn’t the dream let him move?

But then – you shifted, softly. Your hand curled tighter into his shirt. Your cheek rubbed against his chest in your sleep like you were burrowing closer. And your lips curved into the faintest smile.

Like you were happy.

With him.

Bucky’s breath stilled. The panic dulled at the edges, like someone had taken the volume knob and slowly turned it down.

You sighed. A soft, content sound. One that said, I’m safe here.

He stared at you, everything inside him slowly cracking open. The metal arm stayed still and lifeless beside him, but it didn’t matter now. You weren’t afraid.

You were still here.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, letting it all go with the exhale. The fear. The guilt. The weight. The arm still didn’t move, but it wasn’t the threat he’d imagined. Not in this moment. Not with you beside him.

Peace wasn’t something he often found – even in dreams.

But now he let it wrap around him like the warmth of the bed, the quiet of the room, the gentle rhythm of your breathing. His eyes softened, chest rising and falling with yours.

And then the dream faded.

But the calm stayed with him.

Bucky stirred slowly, eyes blinking open to the soft morning light filtering through his window. For once, he wasn’t jolted awake. No nightmares. No cold sweat. No tremor in his hands.

Just…rest.

He frowned at the ceiling. That was new.

He stretched slightly, joints stiff from staying in one position too long, but his body felt lighter somehow. Not in the physical sense – he still had the same weight, the same scars – but the kind of lightness that comes after real sleep. The kind that doesn’t happen often for him. Almost never.

His brows furrowed. Why?

Then – slowly – it came back to him.

The dream.

The warmth. The quiet. The feel of a body pressed to his. Your body. Head on his chest, hand holding onto his shirt, your leg tangled over his. Like you belonged there. Like he belonged there.

And the arm.

The metal one. With the red star.

He sat up too quickly, rubbing a hand down his face. The image of it all clung to his mind now – your peaceful face, that little smile in your sleep, how close you were. How it should have terrified him but didn’t – not in the end.

He didn’t know what the hell it meant.

Why you?

Why that version of him?

Why now?

Bucky exhaled slowly, trying to shove the dream to the back of his mind. Dreams didn’t mean anything. Not for him. They were scrambled echoes of memory and fear, things buried and half-processed. This was no different.

Still, his chest ached in a way he couldn’t explain.

He got out of bed and moved through the motions of his morning routine, then headed down to the kitchen.

There were already a few people scattered around the room, mugs in hand, morning voices low and mumbled. Sam leaned against the counter scrolling through his phone. Nat was picking at a muffin. And you were at the table, sipping from a light blue mug, eyes on a book with one leg tucked under you.

You looked up when he walked in. “Morning,” you said softly, offering him a little smile.

His stomach flipped.

It hit him like a punch to the gut. That smile.

Exactly like the dream.

He didn’t say anything at first, caught off guard. Your eyes lingered on him for just a second, warm and casual, like it was no big deal.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice gruff as he moved past you.

He busied himself with pouring his coffee, pretending he didn’t feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. Pretending the dream wasn’t clawing its way to the surface again, vivid and disorienting and suddenly way too close to real.

He took a long sip of coffee, staring blankly at the counter.

Just a dream, he told himself again.

But the sound of your soft sigh behind him, the scrape of your mug against the table as you took another sip – it sounded exactly the same.

And he couldn’t shake it.

The office was quiet, just the soft ticking of the wall clock and the hum of distant city traffic outside the window. Bucky sat on the familiar worn-in couch, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Dr. Raynor was scribbling something in her notebook as she usually did before looking up at him.

“So,” she said, tone casual but watchful. “How many nightmares this past week?”

Bucky opened his mouth, the number already at the front of his mind. “Uh, I think…”

He trailed off, brows drawing together.

He thought the dream a couple nights ago. About waking up without a jolt, about how calm his body felt for the first time in…God, he didn’t even know how long. It wasn’t like the other dreams – not dark or violent. But he was the Winter Soldier in it. That arm. That red star. That helplessness. That fear.

But…

Then there was you. And peace. And warmth.

He hadn’t had that. Not even in dreams.

“Bucky?”

Dr. Raynor’s voice broke into his thoughts, cutting through the silence.

He blinked, snapping his attention back to her. “Uh, sorry. I think…three.”

She nodded, jotting it down. “That’s good. Fewer than last week. Progress.”

He gave a small, vague grunt in agreement, but she was already watching him a little too closely.

“What was the pause about?”

He hesitated. He could brush it off. Say he miscounted. Change the subject. But the dream had stuck with him. Still clung to the edges of his mind the past few mornings. He was curious – about what it meant, and about what she’d think of it.

So he exhaled slowly. “I…had a different kind of dream. A couple nights ago.”

Dr. Raynor leaned back slightly, folding her hands. “Different how?”

Bucky stared down at his hands for a second before answering. “I was lying in a bed. Just…quiet. And there was someone with me. A girl.” His voice stayed even, careful. “She was laying on me. Head on my chest, hand holding my shirt, leg over mine. We were just…there. Like it was normal.”

Raynor’s expression didn’t change, but he could tell she was paying full attention now.

“I looked down, and – my arm. It was the Winter Soldier version. Silver. Red star.” He swallowed. “I panicked. I couldn’t move it. Couldn’t move at all. Thought I was gonna hurt her. But then she moved closer in her sleep. Smiled.” He paused, voice softening. “It calmed me down. I felt…okay. Even with the arm.”

Dr. Raynor hummed thoughtfully. “Did you know the girl?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked up to hers. There was a moment of hesitation, then a quiet, “No.”

She raised an eyebrow, the kind that said you’re lying and we both know it, but she didn’t press.

“Did you wake up after that?”

He shook his head. “No. Slept through the night. Woke up in the morning, and it was the best sleep I’ve had in…a long time.”

There was a pause. Then, to his surprise, Dr. Raynor smiled – a small, genuine smile.

“Well,” she said, “it sounds like your brain is trying to tell you something.”

Bucky frowned. “Like what?”

“That you deserve comfort like that. Even with your past.”

The words hit him harder than he expected – right in the chest. He sat a little straighter, caught off guard by the way those simple words landed. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

She continued gently. “You’ve spent years believing you’re not allowed to have peace. That you have to earn something you already should’ve had. And now, maybe your subconscious is finally pushing back on that.”

Bucky looked down again, lips pressed into a thin line.

“That dream wasn’t about danger. It wasn’t about control or violence or punishment. It was about being okay, even with the parts of you you’re still learning to accept.”

He didn’t respond, but something settled in him. Not quite relief. Not quite understanding. But something quieter than what he was used to.

Something like hope.

She scribbled something else down, then glanced up again. “Let it stay with you. The way that felt. Don’t dismiss it just because it didn’t scare you.”

He nodded, almost to himself.

He wouldn’t forget it.

Not the dream.

Not your smile.

And maybe, just maybe, not the feeling that – just for a moment – he was allowed to feel that safe.

Later that night, Bucky fell asleep without much effort – something that still felt strange, even after his conversation with Dr. Raynor earlier that day. Her words had echoed in his mind, quiet and persistent: You deserve comfort like that. Even with your past.

He didn’t quite believe it.

But somehow, his body did, because sleep pulled him under fast.

And the dream returned.

The same soft hush of a room that wasn’t his. The same tangled gray sheets. The same smell – vanilla and you.

He blinked slowly, just like last time.

Except…this time, everything was flipped.

You were still beside him – but now, on his left. Your body tucked perfectly into his side, your head nestled just below his shoulder, your hand curled into his shirt, your leg tangled with his.

But his metal arm – the Winter Soldier arm – was curled around you.

Touching you.

Holding you.

He froze.

Panic surged through him like a current.

No. No, no, no.

He looked down at the gleam of silver in the soft light, the red star glowing faintly like a warning. His mind screamed. What if it was pressing too hard? What if it locked up or jerked suddenly? What if it hurt you and he couldn’t stop it?

He tried to move it. Tried to pull away. But just like last time, the dream held him in place. The arm wouldn’t respond. It just was – still, locked in its place around you.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat.

This wasn’t okay.

He shouldn’t be allowed to hold someone like this. Not with that arm. Not with the weight of what it had done. Not when it could still do damage.

But then – you shifted, slowly again.

You sighed softly. Peacefully. A little smile tugged at your lips as you nuzzled your face further into his chest, like you wanted to be even closer.

Like you were safe.

His panic stuttered. He blinked again, heart thudding for a different reason now.

You weren’t afraid. You didn’t recoil. You didn’t treat that arm like a threat.

You embraced it. Him.

Every bit of him.

Slowly, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His jaw unclenched. His shoulders eased down. He didn’t try to move the arm again – he didn’t want to. It was holding you. You were breathing steady, face peaceful, lips still curved with that small, content smile.

And somehow, for the second time, so was he.

He watched you quietly, letting the warmth of the moment soak into him. Letting it settle somewhere deeper than it had before. You hadn’t just tolerated the arm.

You trusted it.

Trusted him.

The room faded again. Soft and slow.

But the feeling – the comfort, the calm, the way you smiled in your sleep – it stayed.

Just like before.

Bucky woke with a slow inhale, the weight of sleep still clinging to his body.

But this time, he didn’t need a moment to remember.

The dream was right there, vivid and whole, waiting for him like it never left.

You, curled up against his left side. His metal arm – that arm – wrapped around you. And not by accident. Not something he couldn’t control. It was holding you. Touching you. And you didn’t flinch. You didn’t fear it.

You smiled.

He blinked up at the ceiling, jaw slack with quiet disbelief. His heart wasn’t racing. His hands weren’t clenched. There was no cold sweat or lingering tension in his spine.

Just a steady breath. A strange calm.

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.

He slept better than he had in years.

Maybe Dr. Raynor was right. Maybe his brain was trying to tell him something. Something he hadn’t let himself believe for a long time. Something about softness. About comfort. About…deserving it.

Even now, lying there in the soft morning light, the feeling hadn’t left him. It buzzed quietly under his skin – warm, unfamiliar. Not something he trusted yet. But not something he wanted to shake off either.

With a grunt, he sat up and went through the motions of his morning routine again and headed down to the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his face. The smell of coffee hit him as soon as he rounded the corner.

Voices filtered through the space – soft and half-awake.

Sam was at the counter again, talking to someone across the room. Natasha leaned over a bowl of cereal. And you were at the table, in the same seat as before, scrolling lazily through something on your phone. You wore a cozy sweater today, sleeves pushed up to your elbows, your mug cradled in one hand.

You looked up when you saw him, smile soft and casual.

“Morning,” you said, voice quiet but warm.

His stomach flipped.

Just like the other day.

He swallowed thickly, eyes catching on the curve of your smile. The exact one from his dream. That same relaxed expression. That same tiny upturn of your lips like you were happy to see him.

He forced his eyes away.

“Morning,” he mumbled, barely above a grumble, and headed straight to the coffee machine.

He busied himself with pouring his coffee, keeping his back to the others. But his mind wasn’t quiet.

All he could think about was that dream. The weight of your head on his shoulder. The feel of your hand against his chest. The way you smiled in your sleep like everything about that moment was safe.

He took a long sip of the coffee, letting the warmth ground him.

Bucky leaned against the counter, mug in hand, eyes fixed on absolutely nothing in particular. He was too aware of you. Of your presence. The sound of your laugh – soft and breathy – when Sam made some dumb comment. The way you sat, one leg tucked under you, like you were completely at ease here.

He wasn’t used to noticing this much.

Or rather…he wasn’t used to letting himself notice.

“Hey, Barnes,” Sam called across the kitchen, pointing a spoon at him. “You gonna just brood in the corner all morning or are you capable of eating like a normal human being?”

Bucky gave him a deadpan look over his mug. “I am eating. This is breakfast.” He raised the mug like proof.

“Coffee’s not breakfast, man,” Sam said, gesturing to the bowl of yogurt in front of him. “It’s a sad, bitter hug.”

You snorted into your drink, and Bucky’s eyes flicked over to you before he could stop himself. That sound – your laugh – was way better than whatever Sam thought was funny.

Natasha gave a dry smile, not looking up from her cereal. “Let him be. At least he’s not staring into the distance like he’s reliving war crimes again.”

“Pretty sure that’s just his face,” Sam muttered.

That earned a louder laugh from you.

Bucky took a long drink of coffee to hide the corner of his mouth twitching.

Then Steve walked in, holding a tablet. “Morning,” he greeted as he passed, setting the device on the counter. “There’s a meeting at ten. Just some info about the upcoming mission.”

“Who’s going?” Nat asked.

Steve tapped the screen. “Me, Sam, Nat, and y/n.”

You raised your brows, nodding slowly. “Cool. I haven’t had a field op in a week. I’m itching.”

Bucky’s eyes went to you again without thinking. That little grin, that spark in your eyes – it tugged at something low in his chest. You were so casual, so ready. Brave, smart, calm. Everything he felt like he had to force in himself just to function.

Then Sam, apparently unable to resist, added, “Don’t worry, Barnes. We’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one,” Bucky muttered.

“Your eyes say it. The haunted ones.”

Bucky rolled them.

You leaned a little toward Sam with a playful smile. “I think he just wants us out of the kitchen so he can mope in peace.”

Bucky looked at you, eyebrows raised, and – damn it – there was that same smile again. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just...soft. Familiar in a way that made his chest feel tight.

Like the dream again.

The red star flashed in his mind for just a second – how it had looked resting beside your head.

His grip on the mug tightened and he looked away.

“You’re all very funny,” he muttered.

Sam raised his hands in mock surrender. “We try.”

You slid out of your seat, passing close by him on your way to the sink. “Don’t worry, Bucky,” you said gently, voice just for him. “You’ll miss us when we’re gone.”

He didn't say anything. Couldn’t, really.

Because he was pretty sure he would.

A couple nights later, the world was green and gold.

Sunlight filtered through trees he didn’t recognize, casting dappled shadows on the path beneath his boots. A soft breeze tugged at the edge of his sleeves, carrying the scent of something fresh – flowers maybe.

It was quiet and peaceful.

Still, Bucky frowned.

He didn’t know this place.

The path curved ahead through a gentle park, benches spaced out along the edges, a few distant people walking dogs or pushing strollers. He glanced around, scanning like he always did – half instinct, half reflex.

Then he looked to his left.

And there you were.

Walking beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

No gear. No weapons. Just you, in casual clothes, looking comfortable and calm, your arms swinging gently at your sides. You didn’t say anything at first – just strolled, matching his pace, steps quiet on the pavement.

He stared, confused.

But before he could say anything, you looked up at him.

And smiled.

Not some bright, flashy grin. Just something quiet, warm, and familiar. Like you’d been here beside him the whole time and nothing about it was strange.

Then, without a word, you reached up and held his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

His metal hand. The Winter Soldier’s.

Bucky’s whole body went stiff.

His breath caught in his chest like someone had punched him.

The panic started the same way it always did – sharp, cold, immediate. That hand. That arm. He didn’t even like people walking on that side of him most of the time. Didn’t want them close to it.

But you…you hadn’t even hesitated.

You just laced your fingers through his like it was second nature.

Like it meant nothing.

Or maybe – everything.

He tried to pull away.

He couldn’t.

His feet kept walking. His body moved forward. But his hand – his metal hand – remained in yours.

And you didn’t look scared. You didn’t flinch or squeeze too tightly or act like it was anything other than his hand. Not a weapon. Not something dangerous.

Just…his.

You held it like you’d done it a hundred times before.

Like you wanted to.

And the whole time, that soft little smile stayed on your face.

He looked at you again, expecting to see some kind of shift – wariness, discomfort, anything. But all he saw was peace. Trust.

The panic in his chest twisted. Less sharp now. Still there, still curling at the edges of his thoughts, but quieter. Muffled under something heavier. Something warmer.

So he didn’t fight it.

He just…walked with you.

Fingers interlocked.

Sunlight dappling the path.

And when the dream began to fade, he didn’t want to let go.

Bucky woke up with the ghost of your hand still wrapped in his.

He lay there, eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. But it didn’t. Just the same bland paint, same quiet hum of the AC, same everything. Except him.

He didn’t feel the same.

The dream hadn’t faded this time. It was sharp. Too sharp. The colors. The breeze. The way you looked at him. The weight of your fingers laced with his metal ones, swinging lightly between you as if you’d never thought twice about touching him like that. Holding him like that.

His left hand rested against his chest now, unmoving.

He stared at it, heart thudding a little too loud in his ears.

Usually, the panic hit him first.

Usually, there was cold sweat. A racing pulse. The instinct to get up, walk it off, ground himself.

But this time…it was different.

There was confusion, of course. Why that arm again? Why you? Why the park? Why did it feel so damn real?

But under the confusion, there was something else entirely, deeper and quieter.

Longing.

It sat in his chest like a weight, not painful, but persistent, like something had just barely brushed against a place inside him he didn’t even know was empty until it wasn’t.

You looked so happy in that dream. So peaceful. Like you wanted to be there with him. Like you didn’t care that it was that hand you were holding. Like it never mattered.

And for a moment…he let himself believe it.

He rubbed his face with his flesh hand, sighing deep into the quiet.

He wasn’t used to wanting anything like this.

Not comfort.

Not softness.

Not…you.

But now, he couldn’t un-feel it.

He stayed there for a while, lying in bed, trying to push it down – but the feeling clung stubbornly to the edges of his mind.

Eventually, he got up and got ready, heading downstairs.

The kitchen was quiet when he walked in. Just Sam, Steve, and Nat – already half-finished with breakfast, voices low, the occasional clink of spoons against bowls – the usual noise.

But you weren’t there.

And Bucky didn’t expect the disappointment that tugged at his chest.

He tried to ignore it. Shoved it down like everything else. You didn’t owe him your presence. It wasn’t like you should be here. Still, it hit harder than it should’ve.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, fingers tight around the handle, and sat at the island without saying a word. None of them pushed him. Nat gave him a polite nod. Steve offered a brief, “Morning, Buck.” Sam just nodded and kept eating.

Bucky sipped his coffee and stared at nothing, trying not to think about the park, or your hand in his, or the way it had felt like something he'd never known he needed.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen.

His spine stiffened.

Then he saw you.

Hair a little messy. Hoodie hanging over your frame. Sleep still soft around your eyes. You looked barely awake – but when your gaze found him, you smiled.

That same quiet smile.

His stomach flipped.

But this time…his chest fluttered too.

“Morning,” you said, voice a little hoarse from sleep.

“Morning,” he mumbled back, too fast, too quiet. Eyes dropping instantly to his coffee like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

You walked over to the coffee machine and poured yourself a cup of coffee in your favorite light blue mug. Then, you turned and walked over to the island and sat down. Not in your usual spot, which would put a chair in between you two.

Right next to him.

On his left side.

By his metal arm.

His entire body tensed. Not panicked – just frozen. Every cell aware. That old instinct to shift away, to hide the arm, to make sure no one accidentally brushed against it. But he didn’t move. You didn’t seem to notice the shift in him, the tension laced through his frame.

You just sipped your coffee, then turned a little toward him.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked, casual, soft.

He blinked. Swallowed.

“…Good,” he said, forcing his voice to sound even. Normal.

You smiled a little more. “Good.”

Then…nothing.

No follow-up. No chatter.

Just you, sitting beside him, quiet and easy and not even glancing at his arm.

Bucky stared into his coffee again, heart still thudding somewhere too close to his ribs. A part of him wanted to get up, walk out, hide like he always did when things got too close. But another part just wanted to stay.

Because sitting here, next to you, felt almost like the dream.

And for the first time, that didn’t scare him.

It made him feel like maybe – just maybe – it could be real.

Later that day, he was back in the familiar office sitting on the worn couch. Dr. Raynor glanced down at her notepad before looking up at Bucky, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.

“So, how many nightmares this week?”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. “None.”

She blinked. Her pen paused mid-word. “None?”

He nodded once, folding his arms across his chest but not defensively – more like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.

Dr. Raynor leaned back slightly in her chair, eyes narrowing just a bit, surprised but clearly pleased. “Well…that’s really good, Bucky.”

He gave a small nod again but said nothing. She let the silence linger for a beat before continuing.

“Any more dreams like the last one?”

There was a flicker of something behind his eyes – something warmer than his usual stormcloud gaze. He looked at the floor, just for a second. “Yeah. Two more.”

Dr. Raynor smiled slightly. “Were they the same?”

“Kind of.”

“Tell me,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

Bucky shifted in his seat, arms still crossed, eyes distant like he was watching the scenes play in his head. “The first one…we were in bed again, the same one I didn’t recognize. Laying there. Only this time, she was on the other side of me. I had my left arm around her.”

Dr. Raynor’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

“It was still the metal one,” Bucky added, quieter. “The Winter Soldier one. But she didn’t mind. She was asleep against it like it was nothing.” He paused. “Like I was just...me.”

Dr. Raynor softened but stayed quiet, giving him room.

“The second dream…” he went on, “We were walking in some park. Not one I knew. Trees everywhere, real quiet. She was on my left side again.” He took a breath, like saying it out loud was harder than he thought it would be. “Then she reached up and held my hand. The metal one.” He glanced up at Dr. Raynor. “Still the old one.”

She nodded slowly, thoughtful. “And after those dreams...you still sleep well?”

“Yeah,” he said, more firmly this time. “I wake up feeling okay. Like I’m still there, kind of.”

“That’s a good thing, Bucky. That’s progress.”

He didn’t say anything, but his posture eased just slightly.

Dr. Raynor tapped her pen against the notepad. “Do you know the girl?”

“No,” he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow at him, the same way she had the last time. No words – just that look, skeptical and patient and knowing.

Bucky sighed, his shoulders slumping just a little. “Yes.”

Dr. Raynor nodded, unsurprised. “Have you told her about the dreams?”

He shook his head.

“Who is she?”

“She’s…a teammate,” Bucky muttered, picking at a loose thread on the seam of his jacket. “New. Doesn’t talk much, but…she’s always nice.”

Dr. Raynor hummed, a thoughtful sound. She didn’t press, just let the silence stretch until it made Bucky glance up again.

“You should think about telling her,” she said gently. “See what she thinks.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He just stared down at his hands again, frowning.

He couldn’t tell her. He knew it. Because if she heard what he dreamed – if she knew she was part of this ideal version of his broken subconscious – she’d bolt. Or worse, she’d pity him. And either would be unbearable.

So he stayed silent. And Dr. Raynor didn’t push. But he could feel her eyes on him, reading everything he wasn’t saying.

The next dream started in a familiar place – the in the common room of the compound, the soft glow of a movie playing quietly on the TV.

He settled into the couch, feeling the familiar weight of his metal arm resting at his side, cold but steady.

Then, he became aware of you.

On his left side again.

You were sitting close, wrapped in a blanket, the fabric pooling softly over your legs.

You didn’t look up at him this time.

Instead, you shifted slowly, leaning over until your head came to rest on his metal shoulder.

Bucky froze for a moment, but the panic didn’t rise like before. It didn’t claw at him.

Instead, a quiet calm settled through him.

He felt…comfortable. Almost warm.

He looked down at you, watching the peaceful rise and fall of your breath.

After a moment, you tilted your head just enough to glance up at him, eyes soft, the same little smile curling your lips.

Then, without a word, you turned your gaze back to the movie.

Bucky settled back into the couch, heart steady, chest lighter.

He let himself enjoy the moment – the quiet closeness, the softness of the night, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was where he belonged.

And then the dream faded.

Bucky woke slowly, the edges of the dream still clinging to him like mist. For a moment, he stayed still, eyes half-closed, breathing even. The quiet hum of the compound in the early morning was a stark contrast to the gentle glow of the dream’s memory – the movie, the couch, the familiar weight of her head against his shoulder. He could almost still feel it.

He rubbed a hand down his face and stared at the ceiling, brow furrowed in thought.

He knew what it meant – at least, in the vague, half-therapeutic way that Dr. Raynor would explain it. His brain, reaching for peace. For softness. For something to hold onto when the world always felt like it was trying to push him away. It made sense, kind of. A subconscious reminder that he deserved comfort, despite everything.

But why her?

It could’ve been anyone. Some faceless, gentle figure. Or no face at all, just a blur that whispered kindness in silence. That’s what he would’ve expected. Not someone real. Not someone who existed within arm’s reach in his actual life.

Not a teammate.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and exhaling slowly. Maybe if he just kept moving, it’d fade. The thoughts, the dreams, the softness of it all.

He pulled on a hoodie and headed toward the kitchen.

The sounds of morning met him as he approached – soft laughter, clinking mugs, voices overlapping. Everyone was already there, it seemed. He hesitated in the hallway, only for a second, before stepping inside.

And then he saw her.

She was seated in her usual spot at the island, barefoot and cross-legged in her chair, talking to Steve about something.

His chest fluttered – sharp and uninvited.

Bucky looked away immediately, cursing silently under his breath as he made a beeline for the coffee pot.

“Morning,” she said, bright and easy, like it cost her nothing.

He didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. “Morning,” he muttered, pouring himself a cup. His hand was steady, but his stomach wasn’t.

He considered sitting. There was space next to her. She’d sat next to him just the other day – plopped down like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he wasn’t a walking museum of trauma and metal and things better left unsaid.

But he stayed standing, back leaning against the counter, eyes flickering in her direction despite himself.

She was laughing now – head tilted slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands wrapped around her mug. She didn’t glance at him. Didn’t need to. She just kept being herself.

And he just kept watching her, silent and still, wondering when she’d started feeling more like home than his own bed did.

You’re sitting at the island, fingers curled around your warm mug, letting the easy flow of morning conversation wash over you. Sam says something that makes you chuckle, and you offer a quiet reply, but your eyes keep drifting.

You glance over toward Bucky. The moment your eyes meet, he looks away. Fast. Too fast for it to be casual.

Your smile falters, and your brows draw together just slightly.

It’s the third time this morning you’ve caught him doing that – avoiding eye contact, ducking away like the sight of you is something sharp. He hadn’t even looked at you when he walked in. Just a low, distracted “morning” with his eyes glued to the coffee pot.

And that isn’t like him. He usually at least looks at you.

Bucky's never exactly chatty, but he’ll usually give you something – an amused comment, a dry joke, even just a subtle glance that says yeah, I heard you, and that was funny. But the past week or so, it’s like a wall’s gone up. A quiet shift you can’t quite name, but you feel it all the same.

It’s in the way he keeps his distance, and how you catch him looking sometimes, only for him to immediately pretend he wasn’t.

You sip your coffee, trying not to let it get to you. Trying not to read too far into it.

Still, your mind turns over the possibility that maybe – somehow – you did something. Said something. Made him uncomfortable. You’ve gone over your recent conversations in your head more times than you’d like to admit, but there’s nothing obvious, no red flag.

And yet, the cold space between you now feels intentional.

You want to ask. You want to turn around right now and say “Hey, did I do something?” but not here. Not in front of everyone. Not while Natasha’s discussing training schedules and Sam’s recounting whatever bizarre YouTube rabbit hole he fell down last night.

So you just stay quiet.

You bring your mug back to your lips and steal one more glance toward the counter.

He’s standing there with his coffee, back straight, face unreadable. Watching the room. Watching you, maybe. You can’t tell.

And so, for now, you let it go. But the worry still lingers, curling low in your stomach.

The run didn’t help.

Bucky had hoped it would – the steady rhythm of his feet on pavement, the wind slicing against his skin, the silence of early afternoon. But even with his heart racing and muscles burning, his mind never quieted.

He kept thinking about you.

About the way your head felt resting against his shoulder in the dream. About how you’d smiled without looking up. About how he’d woken up with that calm still in his chest, only for it to twist into knots the moment he saw you in the kitchen.

Why you? Why not some faceless person? Why not no one at all?

He didn’t have answers. Only questions that kept piling up and looping back on themselves. The only thing he was sure of was that avoiding you hadn’t done a damn thing to fix it.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding and he stepped out into the common room, sweat cooling on his skin. His shirt stuck to his back, and his dog tags shifted with each step as he moved toward the kitchen.

Then he saw you.

You were sitting at the island again, perched on the same stool, legs tucked up, scrolling casually through your phone. A half-eaten bag of pretzels sat in front of you, one hand idly reaching inside every so often. Your expression was relaxed and unaware, until you looked up and saw him.

“Hi,” you said, your voice light, but tinged with something that sounded almost...careful.

Bucky’s eyes met yours for the briefest second. “Hi,” he mumbled, already moving past her.

He went straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off. Cold condensation dripped down his fingers. He turned around quickly, fully intending to walk right back out.

But then–

“Hey, wait.”

His feet stopped before his brain caught up. He turned slowly, water bottle still in hand.

You were watching him now, your phone resting face-down on the counter. Your brow was creased, concern etched subtly between your eyes.

“Did I...do something?” you asked.

Bucky blinked. “What?”

You hesitated, like you hated even asking. “It just feels like you’ve been avoiding me. You haven’t really talked to me lately. Not like before.” Your voice dropped a little. “If I said or did something wrong, I’d really like to know.”

The words hit him harder than he expected.

He hadn’t realized you’d noticed. Or that you cared.

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, taking a breath. “No,” he said finally, his voice rough. “You didn’t do anything.”

He could see the tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your eyes were still searching his. Not angry, just worried.

He thought of Dr. Raynor, and what she said. You should think about telling her. See what she thinks.

He looked down at the floor, then back at you. You were still waiting, quiet and patient.

You tilted your head slightly. “Then…is something going on?”

There was a pause. A long one.

And then, before he could stop himself – before he could talk himself out of it –

“I’ve been having dreams about you.”

The words were out. Heavy, real, and hanging between you like something fragile that could shatter with a single wrong move.

Bucky kept his gaze on you, waiting for you to laugh, to recoil, to look at him like you didn’t know what to say.

But right now, he couldn’t take it back.

“Oh,” you say after a beat, eyes wide. “Are they…good dreams or bad dreams?”

Bucky feels the corner of his mouth tug upward, just slightly. “Good,” he says, then pauses. “Really good, actually.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink. “Oh.”

There’s a shift in your tone – subtle, but unmistakable. And Bucky sees the flicker of realization behind your eyes. Your posture straightens ever so slightly.

His eyes widen, and he quickly holds up both hands. “No. No – not like that.” His voice jumps a little higher than he meant it to.

Your lips press together, a small, amused line forming as you clearly try not to laugh.

Bucky groans quietly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Great,” he mutters. “Now I sound like a creep.”

“No, you don’t,” you say gently, and somehow that only makes the heat rise higher in his face.

He exhales sharply, then walks over to the island and sets his water bottle down. He leans against the counter, arms folded loosely over his chest.

“I’m gonna sound crazy either way, so I might as well just say it.”

You nod, encouraging but quiet, waiting.

“The first dream…I was laying in bed. A bed I didn’t recognize. And you were there next to me, with your…head on my chest. And your hand was holding onto my shirt, and your leg was over mine.” He paused and took a breath before continuing. “My real arm was around you, but my metal arm…it was my arm when I was the Winter Soldier.”

He glanced up at you, looking for a reaction, but you were just listening intently. So he swallows and continues.

“I freaked out. Scared I was gonna hurt you with the arm, since I was…y’know, him. But I couldn’t move. The dream wouldn’t let me. But then…you just nuzzled closer. You smiled and sighed, like you were content. Like you were safe.”

He looked back up at you, and this time, there was a little smile on your face. The same one from the dreams, which made him relax a little bit.

“The second one was the exact same. Except this time, you were on my left side. And my metal arm was around you. Still the Winter Soldier one. I was even more scared, worried that it was crushing you or that I’d hurt you. But again, I couldn’t move. But you just…curled into me again, like it was natural.”

You don’t speak, but your expression softens – eyebrows raised just enough, lips parted slightly like you want to ask something but don’t want to stop him.

“The third one was in a park I didn’t recognize. You were walking beside me, on my left again. And then you just…reached up and held my hand. The metal one. Still the Winter Soldier one. You didn’t flinch or hesitate. You just did it. Like you had before.”

Your gaze flicks to his arm for a second, then back to his face. Still, you stay quiet.

“And the last one,” he says, more quietly now, “was here. In the common room. Movie playing on the TV. You were next to me, wrapped in a blanket. You leaned on my metal soldier. The Winter Soldier one again. And I just…let it happen. I wasn’t scared. I didn’t panic. I felt…calm.”

He exhales, steadying himself. You still haven’t said anything, and he’s not sure if that’s better or worse.

“I told my therapist about them,” he admits, avoiding your eyes now, fiddling with the cap of his water bottle. “She thinks it’s my brain’s way of telling me that I deserve comfort. That I’ve earned peace after everything. That it’s okay to want something soft.”

There’s a long pause. Then he finally meets your gaze again.

“But I don’t know why it’s you in them.”

He doesn’t say it accusingly. It’s not a complaint. It’s a quiet confession – equal parts wonder and confusion. Like he’s still trying to solve a riddle his heart already understands.

And you’re still looking at him, a little wide-eyed, clearly surprised…but you’re smiling.

Not laughing. Not running.

Just smiling.

You don’t say anything at first.

Mostly because you’re still trying to take it all in.

Bucky Barnes – quiet, guarded, “I-don’t-do-feelings” Bucky Barnes – just told you he’s been dreaming about you. Four different times. And not nightmares or weird memory-warped missions, but soft, good dreams. Ones where you’re cuddling or holding his hand or doing…couple-y stuff.

You’re not sure what shocks you more: the fact that you’re in them, or the fact that he actually told you.

But he’s just standing there now, clearly uncomfortable, his arms crossed tight over his chest like he wants to disappear into the counter. His eyes won’t quite meet yours.

Still, you smile.

“Well…that’s new,” you say first. “But…I’m glad it’s me in them,” you say softly, voice steady. “Because you do deserve comfort. And for the record, I’m not scared of you. Or your metal arm. I’m really glad you told me.”

His eyes finally lift to yours, and even though his face doesn’t fully relax, you see the subtle flicker of relief behind his features.

“Thanks,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh...still feel kinda stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” you say, then pause before teasing lightly, “Just very bad at not looking like you’re panicking.”

That earns you the smallest smile.

You tilt your head, thinking back through what he said. “You said you didn’t recognize the bed? In the first two dreams?.”

He looks a little confused but nods. “Yeah.”

“What did it look like?”

He blinks, then shrugs, thinking. “Uh…light gray sheets. And it smelled like…vanilla.”

You blink. And then you laugh.

He looks startled. “What?”

“My sheets are gray,” you say, grinning now. “And everything I use – body wash, lotion, perfume – is vanilla-scented. Like, obnoxiously so.”

His eyebrows lift, and he actually laughs – soft and a little shy, but real.

“Oh,” he says, then clears his throat. “So, either my brain’s really good at guessing, or I’ve subconsciously memorized what you smell like.”

You pretend to consider that. “Creepy either way.”

His smile widens a bit, and he ducks his head. “Great.”

You nudge the snack bag toward him as a peace offering. “Guess you’re gonna have to keep dreaming about me now.”

He huffs a soft laugh, looking up at you through his lashes. “Yeah,” he says, quieter this time. “Maybe I will.”

And even though there's still a little awkwardness between you, it doesn't feel heavy anymore.

It feels...kind of nice. Like something new is starting to settle between the two of you – gentle, tentative, but warm.

And maybe that’s worth leaning into.

Fresh from the shower, your skin still slightly warm, you smooth the last bit of vanilla-scented lotion into your arms, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You tug on your sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt – one of your comfiest – and run a hand through your damp hair as you walk over to your bed.

But you don’t get in.

You stop at the edge, eyes drifting over the crumpled gray sheets, the soft pillows, the blanket still a little twisted from the night before.

And all you can think about is Bucky.

He dreamed about this bed.

Your bed. Light gray sheets. Vanilla.

You tell yourself not to read into it. That maybe it didn’t mean anything. That maybe his brain just filled in blanks using details it picked up around the compound without him realizing it.

But you can’t shake the thought.

Can’t stop imagining him lying there – his broad frame stretched out under your blanket, arm around you, soft breathing in the dark. Not in a dream. Not in his head.

In real life.

You blink, startled by yourself.

Your eyebrows raise slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you frown down at the bed, telling yourself it’s time to get in.

Still, you don’t move.

You sigh, grabbing the edge of the blanket and pulling it back.

But you don’t climb in.

You just…stand there. Staring.

And then, before you can talk yourself out of it – before your brain has a chance to spiral or question – you’re moving. Feet on autopilot.

Your hand closes around the doorknob, and the next thing you know, you’re stepping quietly into the hallway. The air is cooler out here, the compound quiet and still. You don’t even stop to think about what you’re going to say when you get there.

You just start walking. Down the hall.

Toward Bucky’s room.

Bucky lay in bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room was dark and quiet, but his mind wouldn’t follow suit. Sleep hadn’t even crossed his mind yet – he was still replaying the conversation you two had in the kitchen, word for word. The way you smiled when he told you about the dreams. The surprise on your face. The way you’d said you were glad it was you. He could still hear your laugh when you told him his brain must be creepy or psychic.

It made something in his chest ache – in a good way, but still a little overwhelming.

So when a soft knock came at his door, he actually jumped. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Definitely not now, this late.

He swung his legs off the bed and crossed the room, cracking the door open.

And there you were.

Standing there with damp hair, dressed in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt that hung loose over one shoulder. You looked like you were already halfway to bed – but your expression was uncertain, like you hadn’t fully thought this through.

“…Hi,” he said, confusion thick in his voice.

“Hi,” you echoed, a little hesitant.

He stared at you for a beat. “Uh…do you need something?”

You glanced up at him, then down again, then let out a small, anxious sigh. “Do you wanna sleep with me?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide.

His brain short-circuited.

You looked back up, saw his face, and your eyes went wide too, horror flooding your expression.

“No – no, not like that!” you blurted, already scrambling. “I didn’t – I mean I just thought maybe you’d…want to sleep in my room. Since you…y’know dreamed about my bed, I just thought maybe you’d want to do it.” Her eyes went even wider, which he didn’t think was possible. “Not do it, just – like – spend the night…in my room.”

You looked up at him again, face flushed with embarrassment, and honestly? You looked like you were about to turn and run.

But Bucky didn’t move. He blinked once. And then he laughed.

It started as a low chuckle, but it slipped out before he could stop it, shaking his head as he grinned down at the floor.

Your hand went to your forehead, covering your face as you laughed too, half in amusement, half in absolute mortification.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, voice muffled. “I should not have said any of that.”

But Bucky was still smiling.

You weren’t just asking for company. You were offering comfort. To him.

It was kind. And sweet. And, if he was being honest, a little brave.

“Yeah,” he said, cutting through your nervous laughter.

Your hand dropped from your forehead, eyes snapping up to meet his. “Really?”

He nodded once. “Yeah. I mean–” He scratched the back of his neck, still smiling. “If dreaming about it helps me sleep that good…I figure I might actually sleep even better if it’s real.”

You let out a soft breath – half-relief, half-surprise – and nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Cool.”

The two of you turned, heading down the hallway side by side in the quiet dim light.

After a beat, you glanced up at him. “I had no idea what I was gonna say when I knocked,” you admitted, still sounding a little breathless. “I completely butchered it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Nah, it was memorable.”

“I walked up to your door and said, do you wanna sleep with me like I was reading off a bad rom-com script,” you deadpanned.

He grinned. “Hey, could’ve been worse. You didn’t add finger guns or a wink.”

You snorted. “Don’t tempt me, Barnes.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and easy in his chest. And somehow, walking beside you in sleepwear, both of you still recovering from the awkwardness, it didn’t feel weird or tense. Just…light.

And for the first time all night, Bucky wasn’t overthinking. He wasn’t questioning the dreams or spiraling over what they meant.

He was just walking beside you. And it felt good.

When you stepped into your room, the soft scent of vanilla hit him immediately – just like he remembered from the dream.

You walked over to the bed without hesitation and crawled in, pulling the covers back and settling under them. Bucky hesitated just a second longer, then followed.

He climbed in next to you, lying on his back. The mattress dipped under his weight, the blanket settled lightly over his chest. There was still a space between you – enough that he could feel the distance – but not enough to make it feel cold.

He stared up at the ceiling, heart beating a little faster than it probably needed to.

“…Wow,” he said quietly.

You turned your head, voice low. “What?”

He smiled, almost to himself. “This is…exactly like my dream.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he joined in, both of you breaking the tension just a little.

When he turned his head to look at you, you were already looking at him.

There was a long, quiet beat – one of those moments where neither of you really knew what came next, but neither of you wanted to move too fast either.

Then you started scooting closer. He watched you, surprised but not resisting, and when you were close enough, he lifted his flesh arm slightly – just enough of an invitation.

You curled up against him, warm and soft, resting your hand gently on his chest, your leg sliding over his like it belonged there.

He let out a slow breath, wrapping his arm around you, holding you there. Like it was natural. Like it had always been this way.

“…What about now?” you asked softly, voice muffled slightly against his t-shirt.

He looked down at you, heart squeezing tight in his chest. A small smile pulled at his lips.

“This is perfect,” he said.

You looked up at him, returning the smile – sleepy and sweet, like you were already half-relaxed just lying beside him.

And somehow, that smile of yours made something inside him go quiet in the best way.

No tension. Just peace.

You nestled in again, eyelids already heavy. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, voice low, arm tightening around you just a little.

He stared at the ceiling for a while longer, your body warm against his side, the scent of vanilla in the air.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t dread falling asleep.

When it came, it came easy. And he fell asleep happy.

Masterlist

Author's Note: sorry for like falling off the face of the earth for a second there, I got busy😭 Part 2 of Darling and I Noticed and Part 3 of The New Winter Soldier will be coming at some point, I promise! Just wanted to give you guys something while I continue working on those!!

Bucky Taglist: @winchestert101 @herejustforbuckybarnes @avengemepercy @buckyslove1917 @nelachu2423 @iyskgd @navs-bhat @starstruckfirecat @yes-ilovetowrite @bonnyclydecat @knowingnothingnoel @muchwita @hanniebee33 @awesompawsum @knoxic @miss-chuchu @writtenbydianna @rnurse-kole @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @beanzwritez @barnesandbouquets @buckysgirl-12 @butnotmontana

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel #avengers #avengers compound #the winter soldier

2K notes · View notes

becertainlust · 4 months ago

Text

INTENSE | Katsuki Bakugo

synopsis: There is no shame in curiosity.

content: smut. shameless smut. mirror sex, multiple orgasm, dumbification, hickies, praising, fingering.

You were tangled up in Katsuki’s sheets, his arm draped possessively over your waist, your head tucked beneath his chin. The room was quiet—only the soft hum of the bedside lamp casting a dim, golden glow against the far wall. It was warm here. Safe. That rare kind of peace that came from being skin-to-skin, every slow breath shared like a secret, every lazy touch a quiet promise.

He was tracing slow, aimless patterns on your bare skin under your shirt, fingertips barely grazing your back, when you spoke.

“…Have you ever thought about doing it in front of a mirror?”

His fingers stopped.

Your heart dropped straight to the floor.

“Wait—never mind.” You winced, pulling the blanket up to your face. “That sounded way weirder out loud.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, brows raised. “What?”

“I was just—” You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “Nothing. Ignore me.”

He huffed. Not annoyed—amused. “Tch. The hell it was.” His fingers curled into your hair, gently tugging to tilt your head back. “You talkin’ about mirror sex?”

You groaned into his chest again, trying to vanish. “Please don’t say it like that.”

He was grinning now. You could hear it in his voice. “Damn, babe. Didn’t know you were into that.”

“I’m not—! I mean. I don’t know if I’m into it.” You peeked up at him, flustered. “I just think about it sometimes. Like… I wonder what it looks like when you touch me. What you see.”

For a moment, he was quiet.

And then, with a soft kiss to your forehead, he eased you onto your back, gazing down at you like you’d just handed him the world.

“I’ll show you,” he murmured. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wanting to see what I see.”

You were sitting between his thighs now, back against his chest, legs spread open and trembling slightly. The mirror across from the bed reflected everything—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the soft roll of your stomach as you breathed hard against his touch. His arm was locked snug around your waist, anchoring you to him, his other hand already sliding under the waistband of your panties.

The first brush of his fingers against your folds made you jolt. His breath hit your ear.

“Fuck,” he groaned, low and reverent. “You’re soaked.”

“Katsuki,” you gasped, hips twitching.

“Look,” he murmured, fingers moving slowly—teasing, testing. “You wanted to know what I see? Look, baby.”

You tried, eyes locking onto the mirror even as yours fluttered half-closed. It was overwhelming. The sight of his fingers curling into you, the way your own mouth parted with each moan. You were flushed all over, chest heaving, body soft and open under his touch.

“You see that?” His voice dropped another octave, thick with desire. “How fuckin’ pretty you look, takin’ my fingers like that?”

Your thighs trembled as he pushed in deeper, his palm pressed flat against your lower belly to hold you steady.

“So sensitive,” he muttered, dragging his thumb across your clit in lazy circles. “Is it the mirror, baby? Or is it just me?”

You couldn’t answer. Not with the way your body was burning—alive under every slow stroke, every word he breathed into your ear.

Then, just when you were balancing on the edge of release, he pulled his fingers away.

You whimpered, hips chasing the heat, but he only chuckled darkly. “Told you. You take what I give you.”

And he gave you a sharp slap between the legs—just enough to sting, to light up every nerve ending. You gasped, back arching against him.

“That’s it,” he growled, dragging his tongue along your neck, nipping just beneath your ear. “You’re mine, yeah? This pretty little body—fuck—it’s mine.”

You barely had time to nod before his fingers were back, sliding inside with an ease that only made it more unbearable. You were too wet, too sensitive—each curl of his fingers felt like it rewired your whole body.

He kept your gaze on the mirror, whispering praises and filth in equal measure, until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

"Katsuki" you whispered, hiding your face in his bicep. Your head light and warm when he sped up the pace the wet sounds drowning out in your moans that you tried to stop, every sound spilling from your lips. You kept calling him like prayer and he'd hum in recognition.

"Why you not looking" He paused his thrust, slipping his fingers, slipping his arm from your face fixing it on the mirror.

He stayed buried in you for a moment, breathing hard against your neck, then slowly pulled out, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder.

“Get up,” he said, voice low but firm. “Off the bed. Now.”

You blinked, still dazed, legs a little shaky. “Katsuki—”

“I said up,” he repeated, smacking your thigh lightly. Not hard, just enough to jolt you back into your body.

You stumbled up, heart pounding, breath uneven. He was already standing behind you, guiding you toward the dresser across the room. The cool air hit your skin, and your body was still humming from how close you'd come.

Once there, he bent you forward over the edge, palms flat against the wood. The surface was cool under your chest, grounding in the most jarring way. You tried to shift your weight, to find balance—but then he stepped closer and pulled your hips back just enough so your feet had to work to stay planted.

And then he did nothing.

No touch. No words. Just stood behind you, letting you feel how empty you were, how exposed.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He raised a brow, voice calm. Too calm. “You weren’t lookin’ earlier. What, you get to come whenever you want now? You don’t listen, you don’t get anything.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to plead—but his hand came down, steady on your lower back.

“Don’t move. You hold that position, yeah? You don’t get my help this time.”

And gods, your legs were already trembling. The angle was brutal—your body aching for relief, for something to hold onto—but you obeyed. You stayed just like that: bent over the dresser, weight barely supported by your legs, thighs clenching.

You felt him behind you—close enough that his heat kissed your skin, but still not touching. He watched. You could hear the breath he took, slow and controlled, like this was a test for him too.

“You wanna come that badly?” he finally asked, voice filled with amusement

You nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, I—Katsuki, please—”

He smirked, but his voice was like ice water. “Then earn it.”

He stepped in behind you, cock heavy against your thigh, and guided the tip to your entrance—just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You want it?” he asked, voice rough but steady.

“Yes,” you whispered, already trying to push back onto him, but he held your hip still.

“Then earn it.”

He slid in slowly, letting you take him inch by inch until you were full and shaking. But instead of thrusting, instead of holding you like before, he reached up and grabbed your face. His palm cupped your jaw, thumb resting beneath your chin as he forced your gaze up toward the mirror.

“You fuck yourself,” he said, lips brushing your ear. “Not gonna carry you through it. You want to come? Then move.”

With his hand still cradling your face, his other arm slid across your lower stomach, keeping you in place but not helping you move. You had no leverage—just your own will to roll your hips, to pull back and push forward, using him the way he told you to.

You started slow, the stretch making your knees weak. You were already tired, body wrung out from the way he teased you earlier. Your thighs trembled with each movement, but you obeyed—watching your reflection as you tried to ride him while standing, your lips parted, breath shaky.

Bakugo watched too, eyes glued to your face in the mirror. Your eyes roll, and a smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, voice thick with amusement. “What happened to all that defiance? Now you’re whining and barely movin’. Lazy little thing.”

You whimpered, hips stuttering. “I—I’m trying—”

“Not hard enough,” he growled, grip on your face tightening just enough to make your head tilt further, exposing your throat to his mouth. He dragged his lips down to your neck, biting lightly. “You were real mouthy earlier. What, all it takes is a little work to break you down?”

Your legs buckled slightly, and you let out a soft sob of frustration, the movement stalling.

“heh,” he clicked his tongue. “Always so dramatic.” Then, leaning in, lips against your ear: “But I’ll help you. Just this once.”

And then he gripped your hips hard, pulling you back onto him as he thrust forward, deep and punishing. You gasped, your body jolting forward, only for him to catch you again by the jaw.

“Eyes on the mirror,” he hissed.

Your gaze flicked up just in time to see the next thrust—your mouth dropping open, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your body jolted. The mirror didn’t lie. There was no hiding from it. Not the flush climbing up your neck, not the tears welling in your lashes, not the way your thighs quivered with every punishing roll of his hips.

Bakugo was watching too—his eyes glued to your reflection, hungry, dark, possessive. His jaw was tight, teeth grit like he was holding back from completely ruining you.

“You see that?” he rasped, voice rough with control. “That’s what you wanted, yeah? Wanted to see how you fall apart for me?”

You whimpered something close to a yes, but it barely made it past your lips. Your body was wrung out, caught between pleasure and exhaustion, overstimulated from earlier. But that didn’t stop him.

He reached down, fingertips brushing over your clit again, and your whole body jerked.

“Katsuki—” you gasped, legs shaking. He circled over it oh so slowly but enough for you eyes to roll to a close. He slapped the side of your hip,a soft groan, low, the sound vibrating against your back as he leaned in. “Gotta hold still, baby. Don’t wanna miss the fuckin’ show.”

And god, you were a mess. He made sure of it. Your face—your eyes—looked hazy in the mirror, mouth open, trying to form words but too lost in the feeling. He hadn't even touched you like this before—not with this level of control, like every move was calculated to make you come undone slow.

“You wanted to see what I see?” he breathed against your ear, thrusts getting rougher now. “I see the prettiest fuckin’ girl losin’ her mind ‘cause she can’t take a little attention.”

“A little—” you sob-laughed through a moan. “You call this a little?”

He chuckled darkly, biting at your neck again. “You’re still on your feet, aren’t you?”

That was a blessing and a threat, because a second later he yanked your hips back harder, angling his thrusts deeper—and that was it. Your knees buckled completely. "shit-ah"

“Uh-uh,” he caught you with one arm around your waist, the other sliding under your chest to lift you back up. “You’re not tappin’ out yet. C’mon, baby. Show me how bad you want it.”

You moaned something desperate, reaching back to grab at him, your fingers digging into his forearm just to ground yourself.

“Please—Katsuki, please—I can’t—”

“Yes, you fuckin’ can,” he snapped, voice harsh but not unkind. “You will. You wanna come? Do it looking at me. Do it knowing I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

His words crashed over you like a wave, and with a final roll of his hips, stuttering with a soft groan, his dick twitching within your spasming pussy, you shattered. "fuck" he moaned.

Your body convulsed, thighs shaking, muscles locking as your orgasm hit like a lightning strike. Your vision blurred, your cry muffled by the way you bit down on your lip to keep from screaming his name.

Through it all, he held you—steady, unyielding—as he helped ride it out.

“Good girl,” he growled, hips slowing but never stopping. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

You could barely breathe, slumped against him as he finally pulled out, letting you collapse gently onto the dresser. He rubbed your back in slow circles, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Next time,” he murmured, voice smug, “you ask me somethin’ like that again, say it with your chest. Don’t go hidin’ in my sheets.” he littered kisses over your back.

You groaned, barely coherent. “m' didn’t know it’d turn into—that…”

He grinned, kissing your temple as he scooped you into his arms. “That was me holding back.”

Now, you lay against him, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, your skin still buzzing.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice scratchy with leftover heat.

You nodded, too tired to speak.

He gathered you closer, laying you down gently before grabbing a warm towel and a bottle of water. “Here. Sip it, yeah?”

You obeyed, blinking up at him with glossy eyes. “Thanks.”

He climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket over both of you, cradling you against him. You laid your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

#bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki x you #mha smut #bakugo smut #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader

2K notes · View notes

adimilkys · 1 year ago

Text

JJK men waking up horny at night

MDNI : 18+, smut, somnophilia, masturbation, p in v, degradation and much more

Contains : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushigiro, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna (I was throwing up while writing his bitch ass 😾 I still love you Sukuna 😔)

small note : remember! Consent is everything, so let’s say the reader and character made an agreement on not minding if they would wake up to head etc. Not proof read

Gojo Satoru

He often got wet dreams, either waking up to morning wood or- waking up in the middle of the night.

And that’s what happened this time, it’s 3 am and Satoru let out a groan as his eyes opened, his whole face was red, it was so goddamn hot in here. He looked over at your peaceful face, wrapped his hands around you and pulled you closer.

He breathed in your smell, leaving kisses all around your neck and shoulders, slightly grinding his hard cock against your ass.

“Fuck… not letting me rest in my sleep either.” A quiet whine left his mouth, one hand going under his shirt that you were wearing, while the other one pulled your panties to the side, you usually only slept in his shirt and your panties, so he had easy access to your body.

“Baby… I need you…” two of his fingers entered you, he started moving them slowly and scissoring them, you let out a soft moan and clenched your thighs together- but still asleep.

He sped up his pace, taking his own cock into his hand and started stroking it. You let out a louder moan, feeling something tighten inside your stomach.

Suddenly your eyes shot open as your hand instantly went to grab his wrist. “T-Toru!” You cried as he added a third finger.

“M’sorry baby… I was so horny…” he was also close, groaning as he was stroking his cock faster.

“C-Can I put it in? Please please I need to feel you…” You nodded, not able to say anything, the only sounds leaving your mouth being moans of his name.

His fingers left your hole, you whined at the lost sensation but it was immediately replaced with his cock, you gasped at the feeling of being so full. He had your back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around your thighs, holding them up so it was easier for him to slide in.

His thrusts were slow and deep, hitting your cervix every time.

“Toru!! Ah- c-close!” You moaned, your nails were digging into his shoulder as he fastened his pace.

“S-shit… me too baby, me too.” One of his hands left your thigh, letting it lay on the bed, it instead went to your clit.

Your eyes rolled back and your back arched as you came, he wasn’t far behind, a few more strokes and he buried himself deep inside and shot his loads of cum.

As he pulled out you both were a panting mess. He moved your panties back, his hands wrapping around your waist and head hid in your shoulder.

“I’ll clean you up in the morning…”

Nanami Kento

It was rare for him to get wet dreams, it basically never happened, until this night.

He was rock hard and itching to touch you but he didn’t want to wake you up. You came back from work really late and exhausted, it was a hard day for you.

He could just jerk off, but he wanted you so bad. He got onto his knees, making you lay on your back as he pushed your legs apart, slowly pulling your panties off, making sure you won’t wake up.

He grabbed his cock in his hand and started stroking it, imagining it was your hand right now. You were so cute asleep, his beautiful wife.

You probably would tease him for days if you found out what he was doing, he just wanted to quickly get off to your body and go back to sleep.

He leaned down, kissing all over your exposed cleavage and neck, leaving small marks with every kiss, you’ll probably wake up and wonder where’d they come from.

He’ll explain himself tomorrow, right now it wasn’t important. What was is that he’s closer and closer, he started moving his hand faster, shooting out ropes all over your stomach that was exposed due to your shirt being ridden up, following with a muffled moan.

When he calmed down, he grabbed a tissue from the shelf and cleaned the cum off you. Putting your panties back down and laying down next to you, cuddling you.

Toji Fushigiro

He dreamt of you pregnant all over again, your round belly, filled with his child. He knows he has a breeding kink, so it’s obvious that he has gotten hard just from thinking about it.

Megumi wouldn’t mind a little brother, or maybe sister. Fuck, he wanted to get you pregnant again. He knows you’re on that shitty pill- he needs to flush them down the fucking toilet.

But right now all he needed was you. He grabbed your sleeping face and slammed his lips on yours, making you gasp, which allowed his tongue to enter.

“Mhmm- too-ji?” You muffled out barely awake, confused why in the middle of the night your man started furiously attacking your mouth.

“Fuck- feel what you did to me doll, got me all hard even in my sleep, yeah?” You let out another gasp, feeling his hard erection press against your clothed pussy.

Not letting you say anything he ripped your panties and immediately positioned his cock against your entrance.

“T-Toji! What if we wake up Megumi-”

“Then you have to quiet down all these pretty sounds, hm?” And just like that he slammed his dick inside of you. You quickly bit down on your hand, muffling your loud cry.

Not letting you adjust, he continued slamming in and out of you at a quick pace. Tears filled your eyes from the pleasure, trying the best to muffle your loud moans. Your other hand scratched at his back.

He grabbed the hand that was covering your mouth and replaced it with his lips, you could’ve sworn you felt his tongue in your throat, it was a messy kiss- tongues and teeth clashing together. Then he moved down to your neck, leaving marks all over it.

“A-Ah! S-Slo’down- T’muchhh!” Instead of actually slowing down, he only went faster if that was even possible at this point.

“I know you can take it, doll. You always do.” With every thrust you were closer, it was also hard to be quiet with this beast of a man slamming into you at an inhuman pace.

“Toji- close so close!”

“Come on, cum f’me” Your head threw back, not able to contain the loud cry that left your mouth, his pussy clamped down so hard on his cock that he came short after you, letting out a load groan as he filled you up.

“One more round?”

“Toji- wait, AH-”

Choso Kamo

You’re his first ever partner, he’s still not used to all those relationships things. So just imagine his confusion when he woke up at 2 am, his dick rock hard and his body hot.

He looked over to you, sleeping so beautifully, you were asleep and didn’t even do anything- what happened??

He couldn’t go back to sleep, he was too horny. You won’t be mad if he wakes you up, right?

He carefully shook you, calling out your name. After a minute you opened your eyes, mumbling out some incorrect words. When you saw it was Choso who was sitting up, looking all worried you immediately raised yourself up on your hands.

“Love…? What’s wrong?” You asked, his face got red immediately, embarrassed to say what happened.

“I- woke up and my dick was hard, I didn’t know what happened so I woke you up.” You stared at him and let out a soft laugh, sitting up next to him.

“Oh baby, you probably just had a wet dream.” He looked at you confused, still not understanding what that meant.

“A wet dream is when you dream about something sexual.” He let out a quiet ohh, you shook your head smiling.

“Want me to help?” He didn’t move for a while before slowly shaking his head, still embarrassed that he had to wake you up for that. You took his dick in your hands, slowly moving them up and down before lowering your head and leaving kisses all over his cock.

His hand buried itself in your hair as he let out a quiet moan, begging you to not tease him. You complied to his request, taking as much of him as you can in your mouth.

He slightly thrust his hips forward, making the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. “M-m’sorry… had too-“ he whined as your plump lips dragged on his dick, your mouth so warm. The rest that you couldn’t fit in was wrapped around your hand, not being forgotten.

The way you looked up at him, the way that your mouth moved- he was getting closer and you knew it, your movement got faster and he gripped your hair tightly, letting out a moan as he came inside your mouth.

You swallowed it all, giving his head a last kiss before raising yourself up and wiping the corners of your lips with your hand. “You did so good love” he blushed at the praise,

“I’ll repay you tomorrow, okay?”

“Choso, you know you don’t have to-”

“But I want to.”

Ryomen Sukuna

He will not wake you up and admit that he got hard because of a stupid dream, there’s absolutely no way. He won’t ‘jerk off’ either, that would be just low of him.

So he will indeed wake you up but by his cock inside of you. He immediately got to work, ripping your panties off and throwing them somewhere in the room, getting in between your legs as he picked them up and held them against your chest.

He spit down on your pussy, the cold sensation making you shiver in your sleep. He grabbed one of his cocks and positioned it against your entrance, he would use both but getting you prepared for the other one would take too long.

And with a quick thrust he was deep inside of you, filling you up. The sudden intruder immediately woke you up, letting out pleasurable but also painful scream.

“Ngh—! wha-?!” Your eyes darted around the room before laying on the huge frame of Sukuna, who was glaring at you.

“Quiet, brat. This is your fault so now take it.” Your back arched off the mattress as he suddenly started moving, still half asleep not knowing what’s happening.

“Ryo-! Wait! Let me-” before you could finish your sentence a loud moan left your mouth, he did not plan on giving you any mercy with how fast he was ramming inside you.

You yelped as he slapped your ass harshly, “That’s for waking me up, brat.” You wanted to reply to him but you couldn’t form the words, even if you did you knew that would just result in another slap.

He didn’t even bother at pulling out as he picked you up and flipped you onto your stomach like a ragdoll. Continuing with his harsh slams, you felt every vein, with how big he was he was hitting every spot inside your pussy.

His hand grabbed your head and pushed you further into the pillow, making you arch more. He was slamming into you so hard it felt like he was rearranging your guts. The knot in your stomach tightened as you clenched around him.

“Cum, slut.” With his words your hands gripped onto the pillows and with almost a scream-like moan you came so hard you saw stars, but even with your tight pussy clamping around him so hard his thrusts didn’t slow down.

He once again grabbed your body, now picking it up and making you sit on his lap, your back against his chest as he bounced you up and down. You were so fucked out, tears streaming down your cheeks, your tongue out as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth.

“Look at you, so greedy for my cock.” He smirked, pinching your nipple.

“Ryooo— I can’t-” he slapped your ass once again, making you let out a cry, feeling another orgasm coming soon.

“Close already?” He scoffed “Pathetic” you squirmed as his hand went to your clit. One hand on your throat, second on your boobs, third wrapped around your waist making you bounce and fourth on your clit.

“Haa- n-nono-“ you cried as the next orgasm hit you, squirting all around his cock and hand. Leaving you a panting and overstimulated mess.

“What a messy pussy…” he groaned as he slammed you down, cock buried so deep there was a bulge on your stomach as he filled you with his load.

You were sure you would fall down on the bed if he wasn’t holding you up. He pulled his cock out just to fill you again with his second one.

“Did you think we were done, brat?”

6K notes · View notes

tqlepatia · 27 days ago

Text

— you're gonna want me back .

previous fic masterlist next

summary: After Sevika leaves her girlfriend, she returns to your home soaked in rain. While your son sleeps upstairs, she kneels before you in quiet worship, apologizing, loving you with her mouth like you're holy.

notes: SO SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT

The house is quiet, your son finally asleep after begging for just one more story.

His curls still smell like honey conditioner, like his bedtime bubble bath. You’re downstairs in an old hoodie, curled up on the couch in the soft low light of the TV playing "The Addams Family", God, you wish some treated you like Gomez treated his wife.

You weren’t sure she would come back tonight. You didn’t even ask. But when the knock hits the door, low, guilty, softly—you already know it’s her.

Sevika looks like she ran the whole way here. Her shirt clings to her chest, half-wet from the drizzle outside.

Her hair is a mess, and her breath’s caught in her throat. But she doesn’t speak right away.

She looks around the living room like it’s holy. Like it’s home. And then she says it, quietly: “I left her.” Her voice cracks like it hurts to admit. “I couldn't stop thinking about him… about you. About All.”

You say nothing. You just pull your knees tighter to your chest and let her figure it out. She walks in without asking. Drops her jacket near the door.

And when she sees you on the couch, she doesn’t sit beside you—no. She lowers herself to the floor, onto her knees, palms open on your thighs like she’s waiting to be forgiven.

Her eyes find yours, soft and glassy, and she whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry, babe.” It’s breathless, It’s real. “You’re it for me. You’ve always been it. I was stupid. I was scared. I’ll be anything you need me to be.”

You don’t mean to touch her face. Your fingers just go there on their own, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. And she leans into your touch like she’s been starving for it.

“You’re my wife,” she murmurs into your skin. “You’re my goddamn peace.” Her lips trail down your thigh, your stomach, slowly. Like prayer. Like penance.

You shush her gently as her tongue reaches deep inside you, letting you even more wet that you already was, just from looking at her on her knees in your front.

She hums her understanding, eyes never leaving yours. Everything about her is reverent, her mouth, her hands, her worship. She doesn't rush. She takes her time like you’re a sacred text she’s reading word by word, syllable by syllable.

You bite your lip, fist the throw blanket beneath you, and her name escapes you like a hymn. It’s not just sex—it’s her apology in motion, her remorse stitched into every lick and kiss between your thighs.

When it’s over, she rests her cheek on your thigh like she belongs there. “Stay,” you whisper, finally. And she nods without lifting her head. “Always.”

After a while, she perks up, wiping her mouth with her shirt, remembering something. “I got some stuff in the car,” she says, rising to her feet. “For him and For you.” You raise a brow. She kisses your forehead. “Be right back.”

You watch her through the front window as she jogs to her car barefoot in the rain.

It’s pouring harder now, and just as she’s pulling a tote bag out of the trunk, she slips and crashes right onto her ass in a puddle.

You burst out laughing so hard you have to slap a hand over your mouth—but it's too late. You hear the creak upstairs.

Tiny feet patter on the hardwood as your son appears in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes. “What’s funny?” he mumbles, blinking blearily.

You scoop him up gently and point out the window, and his face lights up when he sees Sevika sitting in the rain, wet and sheepish, holding up a soggy bag like a trophy. “Mommy vika fell!” he giggles.

She trudges in soaked but victorious. “I brought curl stuff,” she says, placing the bag on the table, “the good kind. I talked to a woman at that place down in the market. Got deep conditioner, curl cream, and leave-in. All of it.” She holds up another bag with wine, chocolate, and your favorite chips. “And peace offerings.”

He tugs at her leg. “can you watch cartoons with me?” he asks, eyes wide. She melts and crouches to his level. “Its late... But we can make a deal, only if you let me borrow your favorite blanket.” He nods seriously. “Deal.”

The three of you cuddle in your bed under your largest comforter, the cartoon blaring gently from the TV.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝐓aglist of the series : @possessedmagpie, @starrycherie, @moodient, @h2pinky, @minaridior, @abbysdollie, @vkumi, @acidblum, @skzhoiic, @sleepingwasp, @kmhbygss, @jksevendays, @lovejuliettq, @prettyyyy-girl, @laviannasfanfics, @bvtchbait, @dyketoast, @windytulips, @wizard-pdf, @lipglosskxsses, @bl3ssyn, @mewl3tte, @elizathelesbian, @djstinkyfartz, @fruitfulfashion, @ofalcaodacolinablue, @joyispunk, @summerwriting, @theangelwaltz, @bl3ssyn .

#𝐓𝐐𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐀. ✉️#lesbian #sevika #wlw #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #sevika fluff #sevika headcanon #sevika lol #arcane sevika #sevika i love you #sevika fanfic #sevika league of legends #sevika smut #sevika imagine #sevika x fem reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika × fem reader

725 notes · View notes

tagged-by-trauma · 9 days ago

Text

Back in the womb

He wanted to go back into the womb so badly, that you as his wife, provided him one. Pairing: Pedro Pascal x wife!reader Warnings: established relationship, explicit sexual content (18+), dirty talk, language, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), p in v sex, breeding kink, creampie, tender aftercare, mentions of wanting a family, no proofreading Word count: 2.4k

You were tucked inside of the warmth of the hotel bed, eyes wide as the video played in front of you in its full glory. Pedro’s voice rang softly from the speaker, and you couldn’t glance away from the device, replaying that one phrase at least six times in a row, and another four after you’ve processed the words he was saying.

I’m always trying to get back into the womb.

And again.

You thought your own ears were betraying you when the camera was zooming in on him, but after those several times playing it, you had to believe it.

Of course, him being your husband for three years now you’ve discussed your future together. Moving into a bigger house was one of the many things on your list, but having kids with him someday just tipped it over. You wanted to give him kids, of course you did, but you weren’t sure you were ready.

And Pedro being the loving and understanding husband he is, he just accepted it. He knew you had a bigger part in this decision. You would bear his child for nine months. You would be the one who would have insane nausea every morning, hell, even during the day. You would be the one with backpain that would feel like they are kicking your back. You would be the one who would have to deliver it, going to hell and back until you hear your child’s first cry.

And his part in all of this?

Lasting for eight minutes until he gives you his little swimmers, and after that he would be just standing on the side helping you with everything you needed, bringing you everything, surviving your weird cravings.

But.

He never stopped nagging you about coming inside of you. Saying it every time before he laid you on your back, climbing over you. Between passionate kisses, whispering against your lips. Between his rhythmic thrust of his hips, groaning it into your ear. Hell, he even said it during the most random moments during the day.

But after this interview you weren’t sure anymore if you really didn’t want to have kids with him yet.

Instead of continuing to watch the video you went out to the balcony, leaving your phone on the bedside table. You needed some fresh air after this.

The city was buzzing beneath you. The sound of the cars rolling down the street, the occasional yell of people and the birds flying high above. It was a peaceful scenery, but you couldn’t really focus on it, his words repeating themselves in your head.

Pedro had a busy schedule, so he wasn’t there beside you, otherwise you would have already jumped on him. In the morning, he was doing presses with all his might, giving interviews, playing games, but right now he just went out to get himself his usual coffee because he didn’t have time to get it that morning.

The thoughts were running in your head on full speed when you heard the door of the suite open, and you turned your head back, looking at the man that completely occupied your mind for the last thirty minutes of your life.

“Hey, I’m back,” he called out to you, not aware that you were completely ogling him from the balcony door. He turned his back on you, pulling of his grey cardigan which you had a habit of stealing it from him.

“Yeah, I see,” you closed the sliding door behind you as you stepped inside. Pedro jumped in surprise, cursing under his breath in Spanish and turned around so fast that you feared he hurt his back. His hand was on his chest, and he looked at you like you were a ghost that appeared from nowhere.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he stepped closer to you, his hands fell on your waist pulling you closer. “Don’t scare me like that again, please.”

You nodded and smiled softly at him before your arms came up to his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. But the moment your lips came in contact with his there was no going back.

The kiss started off just like any welcome kiss you gave him. But it soon turned into a lot more heated one when his hands slid lower on your body and stopped on your hips. His tongue asked for access, and you gave it happily, the taste of him completely intoxicating. Your fingers traced back down on his chest, and you rested it at the bottom of his Pink Floyd t-shirt.

He groaned into your mouth when your skin made contact with his as you pulled the shirt over his head. His face was completely flushed, his hair ruined by the work of your fingers, and his eyes were full of lust and want. His now bare chest was rising and falling with every heavy breath, and the next thing you knew that he was on you again.

He pulled off the tank top from your body, and you were only standing in front of him in sleep shorts now. You didn’t really plan on leaving that day, so you didn’t think that bra was necessary.

Pedro’s eyes roamed over your form before he started kissing down your jaw and the side of your neck, but before he could go even lower, you turned the both of you around and walked him to the bed until his knees hit the edge and he had to sit down. He was looking you up and down and gave you a cheeky smile.

“Did I ever say that you are absolutely beautiful?”

Without thinking you straddled his lap, your legs resting on either side of his body, and his hands fell on your ass.

“A few times, yeah,” you murmured and leaned down to continue kissing him.

Your hips moved on their own accords, and he groaned into your mouth, the sound rumbling in his chest under your palm. You could feel his cock hardening under you in the confines of his sweatpants and boxers, and you smirked into the kiss before you pulled back.

“So,” you were caressing his jaw, the light stubble tickling your thumb. “You always try to get back into the womb, huh?”

You could see the surprise in his eyes at your question, like he didn’t expect you to watch that interview at all. But just after a few seconds his expression changed, and the look in his eyes turned hopeful again, like every time before.

“You’ve seen it?” his voice was low, and you just nodded in response. “I swear I didn’t want it to come out like this,” while he was talking his hands moved down to your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles onto the skin that wasn’t covered by the shorts. For a moment you were thinking about your next words, but you said them anyway.

“And if I say I want to?”

Pedro’s head turned up to your face, and then he shook his head in disbelief and in misunderstanding of the situation. But when you saw the information dawn on him, his eyes grew wide, and a wide grin appeared on his face.

“Do you mean…?” his question was just a whisper in the quiet room, and you bit you lower lip as you agreed without any word. “Jesus Christ,” he was cursing under his breath, and you could feel his already hard length twitching beneath your weight. You felt his hands tighten on you, and his eyes shut for a second.

You yelped out his name when he suddenly turned you around and climbed on top of you. His hands made quick work on pulling off your shorts along with your underwear, and he threw them away somewhere in the room. Pedro leaned down and started kissing down your body, spending specifically much time on your breasts.

He kissed down the valley between them before his mouth moved on one of your nipples. His lips closed around the hardened bud, and your back arched off the back at the sudden change in the temperature. You felt the heat between your legs build with each of his movements, and your fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck. His hand came up to your other breast to massage it, and he quickly moved on to that one while his hands switched.

Minutes passed like this. His lips wrapped around your nipple, you a whimpering mess under him begging for more.

Pedro released you and started moving down your body, but you quickly got hold of his hair again and pulled him back so he could face you. The confusion was clear on his face, but you just shook your head.

“I’m ready, Pedro. Just fuck me already,” you moaned out, and he had to hide a low growl from coming out of his mouth.

At this point, his cock was straining painfully against the soft fabrics, but the only thing he needed was exactly these words from you. His hands made quick work with pushing off his sweatpants and the boxer underneath. His cock sprang free hitting his lower stomach. The head was almost purple from the lack of release, and the slit on the tip was already leaking with an insane amount of precum.

He tried to climb back and reach into the bedside table, but you pulled him back once again. You thought you were clear just a few minutes ago that you want it too, but it clearly didn’t settle for him yet.

“Baby,” his voice was full of confusion again, but you didn’t let him finish his sentence. You tugged him on top of you and leaned up to whisper in his ear.

“I want to be that womb. Right now.”

His eyes darkened even more and now they almost seemed like complete black orbs. Pedro’s lips crashed down yours with full force, and his hand reached down between your bodies, getting a hold of himself. You broke away to look down to watch as he stroked his cock one, two, three times before he lined himself up. He lowered himself on his forearm, his palm resting against your cheek. He was looking deep into your eyes when you felt the tip of his length nudging your entrance, and you let out a breathy moan of his name as he pushed in to the hilt followed by a string of curses.

Your arms came up to his shoulder to hold onto him for a moment as he waited for you to adjust. When he saw and felt your body relax in his hold, he pulled out slowly so only the head of his cock remained inside you, and then he pushed in again in one single movement. He picked up his rhythm, his cock driving in and out of you quickly.

His right hand came up to rest on the curve of your throat. He wasn’t squeezing it, he was only holding onto you carefully, like he was trying to anchor himself in this moment. His shallow breaths were hitting across your face as he leaned his forehead against yours and looked deep into your eyes.

“Jesus, darling. You want my babies, is that it? You want me to put a baby in you?” his voice was gravelly, the muscles in his back flexing with every hard thrust. You whimpered and nodded your head eratically, not trusting your voice.

His hand travelled down between your bodies, and his thumb fell over your clit, drawing tight circles around it. You arched your back off the bed, and your moans came out more frequently as you felt the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching. He picked up his pace, and his thumb moved to the same rhythm.

“Fuck, hermosa,” he groaned as he felt your walls tightening around him. “You’re gonna be so beautiful full of my babies,” he murmured, and that was the only thing you needed before you felt that tight string of heat snap inside you. You gripped his shoulders, throwing your head back as he thrust into you two more times before his movements faltered and he buried himself to the hilt.

You felt the hot ropes of his cum painting your walls spurt after spurt, his cock twitching inside you with its release.

Pedro collapsed on your body, making sure that he didn’t crush you with his weight before he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Your fingers raked through his damp curls, his skin glinting with sweat all over it. His breath was hot against your neck, and you lifted your head to place a kiss into his hair.

“If I would have known that one sentence of mine turns you on so much then I would have said it sooner,” he murmured, and his mustache was brushing against your skin with every word.

“Well, now you know.”

You were just laying there for a few minutes, your breaths mingling in the air around you. Finally, he pushed himself off of you and pulled out with a soft hiss. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness inside you.

He stood up and went into the bathroom of the suite before he returned with a wet rag and knelt down at the edge of the bed between your legs. You could feel his cum dripping out of you, and when you pushed yourself back on your forearms you saw that he was looking down with an amused grin.

“This is so fucking hot, baby,” he murmured, and you felt his fingers slide over your folds. You writhed under him as he collected his release and pushed it back inside you, the wet rag sliding across the sweaty skin of your thighs. “I fucking love you.”

He pulled out his finger and he moved up your body again, stopping at your belly to place a soft kiss there. Without any thought he pulled you into his arms, your head hitting his chest as he pulled the covers over the both of you. His chest was moving slowly up and down beneath your cheek, and your palm rested against his ribs.

Neither of you cared that it was still early in the afternoon. The fact that Pedro didn’t have any interviews or premiere that evening made you both fell asleep.

Little did you know that the first time was the charm, and after a few weeks you would be quite surprised.

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut

646 notes · View notes

gothicfied · 1 month ago

Note

ugh wait i had a thought: imagine coloring in nam gyu's tattoos!!

Ink Lines - Nam-gyu Oneshot

Pairing: Nam-gyu / Player 124 x Reader, No Squid Game AU

Word Count: ~900 Words

Warnings: Mentions of drug usage, scars, Nam-gyu smokes, slight swearing, Nam-gyu and Reader are in a relationship, other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (English isn't my first language)

A/N: Again, this request is literally several months old and I'm so sorry that I only came around now to write for it, Anon! This request is actually so cool, I can't believe I didn't write for it sooner. Anyway, better late than never so: Enjoy!

The evening was warm with only the summer wind cooling you off on this day in the middle of August. Nam-gyu traded his usual night shift at The Pentagon just to spend a little more time with you — Time that the both of you usually didn't have for each other because of your jobs.

He was sitting in the same squeaky garden chair right next to you and held your hand, resting his arm on the cold metal arm rest. You've ran out of things to say to each other at least an hour ago and were now just enjoying the calm and peaceful silence. You felt Nam-gyu's thumb trace across the back if your hand absentmindedly as he was busy tipping away on his phone in his lap.

This is how it could always be. Tranquil, nice, with no worries in the world. You were watching the sunset and occasionally listened in on the conversation your neighbors had on the balcony right next to yours.

At some point you got bored at doing nothing, but you were also a little to tired to come up with anything else for you two to do. Your eyes started to wander over your boyfriends figure, his little smile as he watched some stupid videos on his phone, and his arms. Old scars and traces of drug usage were still apparent on them, and everytime you saw them you were grateful you got him to stop. For you, it wasn't ideal that Nam-gyu continued to work in that god awful nightclub, but the money was needed.

Your gaze lingered on the tattoos that also decorated his skin. Some of them you could just shake your head to, but that's just who your boyfriend was: Impulsive, careless, free. Everything he put on his skin was a direct reflection of his character and you liked that he stayed true to himself.

After a few seconds, you got an idea to cure your boredom: "Can I do something?"

At the sudden sound of your voice, Nam-gyu slightly flinched, then looked at you with a small grin. "Whatever you want, babe." Carefully, you removed your hand from his after squeezing it for the last time and got up from your chair. Nam-gyu just watched you struggle to open the balcony door and how you quickly retreated back inside your shared apartment.

A few minutes later, which he had spent looking for his already opened pack of cigarettes, you came back with a rather interesting item. "What's that?" Nam-gyu asked you with a confused look on his face, finally finding what he searched for in his other pocket.

You just smiled at him, so sickly sweet he swore he could die from it. In your hand were a couple of markers you had bought just a week ago for some art project you wanted to start.

"Wait, you'll see." You pulled your own chair closer to his and sat back down again, grabbing his left arm. Most of Nam-gyu's tattoos were already done with colored ink, only the small moth on his left arm right above his wrist and a few others were left black and white.

You, again, inspected the tattoo and decided you wanted to use the red first. Nam-gyu raised an eyebrow: "The fuck is this gonna be? You gonna color it in?" He shot you a smile as soon as you nodded. "Make sure it turns out pretty, though."

The felt tip of the marker started tracing along the inner corners of the moth's wings as you carefully drew on his skin. Nam-gyu just stuck a cigarette between his lips and gave you the lighter, obviously wanting you to help him.

You resumed your coloring while your boyfriend was just — in your humble opinion — ruining his lungs. But that was one of the things he couldn't give up, like he always told you.

"What color do you want for it's body?"

"Blue."

He took another drag from his cigarette, switchinh back and forth from watching the sunset and you coloring his tattoo in. Nam-gyu must admit, it was one of the most adorable things ever.

The marker slightly tickled his skin as you dragged it delicatly across his arm. "Hey stop moving so much, you're gonna fuck up my drawing." Nam-gyu laughed at the annoyance in your voice and just said "Okay, okay, okay.." occasionally moving his arm on purpose just to see you get worked up over it and kiss you to make you calm down.

After a couple of minutes you moved up to the next tattoo on his upper arm. The man mustered your work and pressed a kiss on your forehead for the job well done.

"You like it?"

"It's perfect, my love."

"Well, obviously."

"You should do this more often."

You looked up to your boyfriend, your heart fluttering thr moment your eyes met his. The both of you have been in a relationship for the past two years, yet he still gives you butterflies in your stomach — It's actually your favorite thing about your relationship.

"Whatever you want, babe."

#squid game #squid games #squid game 3 #squid games 3 #squid game 2 #nam gyu squid game #nam gyu x reader #player 124 #player 124 x reader #squid games x reader #squid game fanfic #nam gyu

498 notes · View notes

maggotvamp · 26 days ago

Text

JOIN ME IN DEATH — KANG DAE-HO

synopsis: he was absolutely everything to you, he was your life-line in these mass murderous games. he was your protector and you promised each other that no matter what happens if you make it out you would find one another. soon you realized maybe you wouldn’t join each other outside the games, but in another way.

authors note: he did not deserve that, i will forever defend him. readers number is 079!

You stood next to Dae-ho, blue vests wrapped around your chests as the guard started to explain the rules. Hide and Seek.

The blue team was tasked with hiding from the red players or find the exit and escape, whilst the latter had to eliminate them within the specified time frame.

It made you nervous, not for yourself but the boy trembling beside you. You already knew what he was thinking, that he would die if he didn’t switch his team. Hearing his breath quicken rapidly, you turned to him.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We can find someone to switch with you.” Placing a hand on his arm, Dae-ho looked at you. His lips quivering and a cold sweat beginning to form on his forehead.

“No, no for both of us. I’ll find someone.” He tried to reassure but his frantic glances behind you told you the truth. He was afraid, he knew Gi-hun wanted to kill him. He knew it was his fault, it haunted him. If he wasn’t a coward, maybe the rebellion would’ve worked.

As he was searching frantically for two red vests, you looked around in search of anyone willing as well. You could see the red team carefully cradling the knives in their hands like a life-line. They seemed very adamant on not switching, knowing of their advantages.

At this point you were getting restless watching Dae-ho desperately attempt to reason with the other players like his life depended on it—which it did but you knew it was no use.

Monitoring, you saw him make his way over to Gi-hun. Cursing under your breath, you shook your head in exasperation. “Hey! Hey, Dae-ho!”

Ignoring your calls, he stood in front of the older man. You couldn’t make out his words over your own desperate calls, it wasn’t until he started yelling that you gripped him by the shoulder. “Dae-ho, stop!”

“No! It’s his fault, his stupid plan!” You never saw him like this before, so angry, so upset at what was brought onto him. Still gripping him, you turned him towards you—away from Gi-hun and away from the guard who stood close with his gun aimed.

Positioning your hands over his cheeks, you directed his eyes to meet yours. “Look at me, we’ll be okay. Don’t worry about him, we just gotta stick together and find the exit.”

At that point, the alert that the game was about to start chimed around you. The blue team being directed to enter the arena first, looking at the boy who you now devoted yourself to protect, you squeezed his hand in yours.

“I love you, we’ll make it out.” Dae-ho nodded, his eyes downcasted yet hand still holding onto yours.

“I love you too.”

The inside hadn’t been what you expected, it almost made you feel at ease with the current circumstances. Luminescent yellow stars painted on a blue night sky, it was pretty. Ironically soft for a game like this.

A hand gripped onto Dae-ho’s, your other one tracing the string that held the key around your neck. You knew you had to hide before Gi-hun caught up, you couldn’t bear the thought of knowing what would happen if he did.

As the team decided to split up and find the exit, you and Dae-ho stared at one another. In his eyes there was fear, but in yours—there was determination. You were going to protect him, like he did you ever since you met.

You weren’t scared of death, eternal peace and nothingness—it sounded much better than the hell you were currently in. You just didn’t want to see Dae-ho go through that fate, even if it means it was without you.

“Let’s go.” You whispered, pulling him through the maze as you hurriedly checked every door you stumbled upon. You were sure that the taggers already arrived by the sounds of frantic rush and shouts.

Dae-ho was becoming more distressed, deep down he knew what was to come. His desperate attempts at finding a door was growing more and more hysteric. As you followed him, your feet halted as you saw a door.

“There’s one.” You breathed out, your hand ripping the necklace off your head as you sprinted towards it. Jamming the key into the hole, you cursed. It wasn’t the right one.

Snapping your head to Dae-ho, you gestured to his key. “I need your key, mine doesn’t fit.”

“I got it.” He scooted himself closer beside you as he slammed his into the lock. Once it turned, you breathed out a sigh of relief until you saw the other side. Nothing.

The drop down made you abruptly pause, arm reaching out to stop Dae-ho from taking anymore steps closer. Hearing a shaky breath escape him, you looked at him. His gaze on something from above.

Gi-hun.

Once you saw him, you gritted your teeth together. There was no way you were letting him get his hands on Dae-ho. His murderous glare made you recoil for a moment, you’ve never seen him like that before. You looked up to the older man, but now he was someone you couldn’t trust.

“Lets go.” You said, tugging Dae-ho behind you. The amount of running was starting to burn your lungs, your legs slowly starting to ache and mouth drying up.

Avoiding the red team was becoming more and more difficult as the blue team was being eliminated off rapidly. As you both turned a corner, you made eye contact with a red player.

“Fuck.” You cursed, turning around and pushing Dae-ho to sprint faster. The sound of rapid footsteps made you panic as you turned every corner. Soon enough, there was a door waiting to be opened.

Dae-ho slammed himself against it in a hurry, pushing his key into the lock before placing a hand behind your back and shoving you through the door. The unfortunate flight of stairs slowed you both down, the player managing to catch up and slash at Dae-ho’s leg.

Hearing him scream you turned back, placing yourself in front of him and pushing the player back aggressively to the bottom. Before this, you couldn’t think of killing anyone. Life was precious to you, but in defense of the person you love—you could justify it.

As he fell down, the knife flew out of his hand and onto the concrete floor. Blade separating itself from the handle.

The only way you knew you were going to survive was if you took the knife, so that was what you did. Running down the stairs to take a hold of the sharp blade, you stared at it. Blood coating its shiny metal.

Now with the injury of Dae-ho, you had to be extra cautious.

Climbing back up the stairs, you grabbed him by the vest and gently pulled him down. His arm stretched around your shoulder as he grunted out curses.

“It’s gonna be okay, we can find a place for you to rest.” Your reassurance fell on deaf ears, as you looked around in hopes of finding a door—Dae-ho separated himself from you.

“Go, we can’t find the exit if you’re dragging me along.” He grunted, staring at you with a pained expression. Sweat glistening his skin, it was wrong of you to think he looked beautiful in that moment but your mind couldn’t help itself.

You could only scoff with an aggressive head shake. “Don’t say that, we can find it together.”

He shook his head back in protest, ripping the key off his neck and placing it in your hand. “I’ll hide in a room, when you find it, come get me.”

Staring at his trembling hand in yours, you nodded in defeat. He was right, there was no way you could find the exit with his injury. Looking into his eyes, the firm contact was sincere. “You promise you’ll be okay?”

His frantic nod made you sigh, fishing for the blade in your pocket you held it out to him. “To protect yourself, i’ll be back. Go into the nearest unlocked door, go.”

Taking a couple steps back, you watched as Dae-ho gazed at you. His eyes holding fear yet they still showed adoration for you. Giving him a quick nod, he darted off with you eventually doing the same.

It didn’t take long to find another key, the dead bodies scattered grew more common. In your hand held the three shaped keys, your only task now—to find the exit.

Your lungs burned, yet brushing it off was fairly easy when you had someone waiting for you. Flashes of Dae-ho appearing in your head, his smile, his charming voice and big personality. It was enough to make you want to live, for him.

Surviving the games, money or not, with him was all you could dream of.

As you struggled to juggle the keys, you managed to fish the right one for the locked door in front of you. Pushing it open, you exhaled shakily. Above the large door inside read ‘Exit.’ Your heart pounded rapidly inside your chest.

“Yes! Yes, goddamn it, yes!” You couldn’t help but cheer, running out the room and heading in the direction you came from. After some corners and halls, you had no luck in finding the boy. Cursing to yourself, you ran around frantically in search of him. He couldn’t have gone far, not with his leg.

You skidded along a sharp turn, keys dangling from your hand. It was then you made a sudden halt, breath stopping. The sound of the keys hitting the hard floor echoed. Dae-ho, your love, your reason to keep on going, lying on the ground—motionless.

A loud sob escaped your throat, hands trembling in front of you as you kneeled beside him, knees slamming down. His eyes were wide open, blood dripping from his mouth, yet even then, you still found him beautiful.

Cries echoed out from you, hands cradling his red paint splattered face. One of them going to sooth his hair down. “No, please no—wake up, please.”

Despite your pleas, his glazed over eyes did not blink, his breath did not pick back up again, you were left with a lifeless body before you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. Gi-hun, sitting against the wall limp. You would’ve thought he was just as gone if it weren’t for the breathes moving his chest. “Why? How could you? He was just scared!”

Using a knee to stand up, you loomed over the older mans still figure. “Why! Tell me!” Gripping his vest desperately, you shook him. “Look at me! Be a man!”

Realizing he wasn’t going to answer, you dropped your hold on him. Leaning forward, you sobbed uncontrollably. Hands entangling in your hair as you pulled at the roots. “I can’t—I can’t do this, not without him.”

Lifting your head up, you noticed an abandoned knife beside the man. Shaky hands retrieving it, you huffed out. Before you stood up again, a hand wrapped around your wrist. Meeting his gaze, Gi-hun stared at you and shook his head slowly. His eyes dull and lifeless, regret written all over his face.

“I have too.” Your fingers plucked his off, continuing to stand, you let the knife fall to your side. The steps you took toward Dae-ho were shaky, unstable. The sight of his still body and grey colored face made your heart ache and eyes blur.

Settling down, you took one of his hands in yours. Your head falling into place beside him, eyes looking into his as you cradled his face and let it stare directly at yours. The blade you picked back up again rested on your chest, tip digging in.

“I can’t wait to see you again.” You whispered, letting your vision fall dark as your hand gained more strength to push down. Gargle falling from your lips as your movements paused, limp hand dropping to rest at your side.

“Player 079 eliminated.”

#squid game season 3 #squid game #squid game x reader #kang dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #dae ho squid game #dae ho x reader #daeho squid game #kang daeho #kang daeho x reader #gi hun #player 388 #player 388 x reader

528 notes · View notes

arixella · 1 month ago

Note

More lazy sex luffy please <3

Slow Nights, Soft Moans

╰┈➤ pairing: Luffy x female! reader

a/n: hey yall ive been on vacation sorry but im working on everyones request and the request box is closed rn 😭 (edit: it’s open now!)

summary: In the soft hush of night aboard the Sunny, you and Luffy share a slow, intimate moment of connection and lazy lovemaking, wrapped in love, warmth, and the sea’s gentle rhythm.

wc: 900

contains: smut, explicit sex, slow riding, lazy sex, loving touches, mutual pleasure, creampie, praise,

The night air was still warm, even with the breeze drifting in through the cracked-open window of your shared room. The sea was calm, the ship rocking gently beneath you, and outside, the crew had all gone to bed — the laughter and footsteps from earlier replaced by quiet waves and distant creaks of wood.

You were lying across Luffy’s chest, bare skin against bare skin, both of you sunk into that peaceful quiet that only came at the end of a long day together.

His fingers were running lazily up and down your spine, his touch soft and absentminded, like he never wanted to stop touching you even when words weren’t necessary.

And then, as your hips shifted against his, you felt the subtle pressure of him again—already getting hard, even though he hadn’t moved.

“You’re insatiable,” you whispered into his neck, lips brushing the soft skin.

He let out a little sleepy laugh. “Can’t help it. You’re so warm.”

You kissed his collarbone, smiling against him. “You’re not even trying.”

“I don’t have to,” he murmured, eyes fluttering half-shut. “You just feel good... I could stay like this forever.”

You rose up a little, straddling his hips, letting your fingers trace over his chest as you rolled your hips forward — slow, teasing, enough to drag a lazy groan from his lips.

“Then let’s stay like this,” you whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

His eyes opened then, sleepy but dark, watching you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You reached between your thighs, guiding him to your entrance, and slowly sank down — inch by inch — until he was fully inside you.

Both of you let out soft sounds, barely more than breathless sighs.

Luffy’s hands came to your hips instinctively, thumbs stroking your skin like he was trying to memorize every bit of you.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel... amazing.”

You started moving slowly, rocking your hips in gentle, lazy rolls. The pace wasn’t rushed—you didn’t want fast or frantic tonight. You wanted to feel everything: the stretch, the heat, the closeness.

He let out a soft moan, head tilting back against the pillow as his hands slid up your sides. “Just like that…”

You leaned down, bracing your hands on his chest, pressing soft kisses to his throat, his jaw, his cheek.

“You make me feel so good, Luffy,” you breathed. “I love being like this with you.”

He looked up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in pleasure. “You’re so pretty when you ride me,” he murmured. “Like you were made for me.”

Your rhythm deepened, slow and steady, your bodies moving together in perfect sync. Every roll of your hips had his breath catching, and every time he shifted beneath you, your entire body lit up.

His hands helped guide you, slow thrusts upward meeting your rhythm. It wasn’t rough — it was supportive, like he was holding you through every wave of pleasure.

You gasped softly as he hit that deep, perfect spot again, and his hands tightened slightly around your waist.

“There?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“Mhm,” you moaned. “Right there, baby. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He kept rocking into you, just enough to push you higher, while you rode him at your own pace — building pleasure like a tide, slow and strong and impossible to resist.

You leaned forward again, foreheads touching, noses brushing, and kissed him—slow and deep, tongues moving lazily together as your hips never stopped.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” you breathed.

Your climax hit slowly — a soft build that turned into a long, delicious wave, making your thighs shake as you moaned into his mouth. He held you tight as you pulsed around him, groaning low as your walls squeezed him over and over.

That was enough to pull him over too.

His hips jerked slightly, thrusting deeper one final time as he spilled inside you with a soft, broken moan.

“Fuck—ahhh… I’m cumming—”

You stayed there, breathing hard, both of you flushed and sweating lightly in the quiet night.

He wrapped his arms around you tight, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, your temple, your cheek.

“Don’t move yet,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

And you didn’t.

You stayed connected, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat, while the sea rocked the Sunny beneath you and the stars hung quiet above the ocean.

Nothing else existed in that moment — just you and Luffy, and the quiet, unspoken love wrapped around you both like a blanket.

♡♡♡

#anime #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece luffy #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy x reader smut #luffy smut #sub luffy

670 notes · View notes

dhazefawn · 2 months ago

Text

❀﹒﹒⇅﹒𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ╱ with JASON TODD & DICK GRAYSON ㄨ BLACK WIDOW ! READER ꩜ .ᐟ ⠀⠀ hcs & drabbles. ⠀·⠀ ୭

　　﹕ (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈) ┈ #directory #rules . ♡ ﹒ this ask made me rethink the whole ‘reqs closed but suggestions open’ deal i gave going on rn. i cannot physically write everything req i get in my inbox,,, so i just take suggestions— no pressure to write it like a request.

❛ ꜝ ┈ ✺ cw ﹒ violence and abuse described in this work— it doesn’t take a big part of it though. a bit of angst because i cannot control myself.

𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀Your reputation precedes you—former Black Widow, perfectly trained killer, someone who understands that justice isn’t always clean or merciful. But Gotham’s protectors seem determined to complicate things. You find yourself in unfamiliar territory— a certain vigilante has wormed his way into your heart. ✶

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 ︶︶

The warehouse explosion lit up Crime Alley like the Fourth of July, and Jason couldn’t help but grin as you dropped down beside him from seemingly nowhere, not even slightly singed despite having been inside thirty seconds ago.

“Show off,” he muttered, but there was admiration in his voice.

“Says the man who literally just drove his motorcycle through a second-story window.” You checked your weapons with practiced efficiency, muscle memory from a lifetime of survival. “Find what we needed?”

“Financial records, shipping manifests, and enough evidence to put half of Falcone’s operation away.” Jason held up a hard drive. “Plus whatever you did in there should send a nice message to the rest.”

You shrugged, the movement elegant even in tactical gear. “The message needed to be loud.”

“No arguments here.” He stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in your eyes. “Bruce is gonna have an aneurysm when he finds out about tonight.”

“Good. Maybe it’ll keep him busy enough to stop lecturing us about ‘excessive force.’” Your fingers found the edge of his jacket, tugging him closer. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind my methods when I saved your ass in there.”

Jason’s laugh was rough around the edges. “Pretty, I never mind your methods. Just wish you’d give me a heads up. I like to watch.”

Your smile was dangerous and entirely too appealing. “Next time, I’ll put on a show.”

Jason absolutely gets your approach to justice and rarely questions your methods— if anything, he thinks you’re more efficient than the Bat-family’s usual “catch and release” program.

Will definitely team up with you on missions and enjoys the hell out of it, especially since you don’t try to hold him back from doing what needs to be done.

Gets incredibly protective when other people criticize your past or your methods, even though he knows you can handle yourself— old habits from his own experience being judged.

Loves sparring with you because you’re one of the few people who can actually challenge him, and there’s something thrilling about fighting someone who’s genuinely dangerous.

Sometimes you’ll find him reading up on Red Room techniques or Widow operations, not to judge but to better understand what made you who you are.

Has absolutely gotten into arguments with Dick and Bruce about your relationship. It’s a delicate situation. While Bruce and Dick understand you would never hurt Jason on purpose, they do worry how the methods you two choose will affect not only Jason— you as well.

There’s a twisted kind of understanding between you and Jason. I think in the end Bruce only wants the two of you to be able to find peace and not feel trapped by the blood you two have spilled.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 ︶︶

The Blüdhaven rooftop was slick with rain as you materialized from the shadows, silent as death itself. Dick didn’t even flinch— he’d learned to sense your presence weeks ago, though he still couldn’t figure out how you moved so quietly in those boots.

“You’re late,” he said, not turning around.

“I’m exactly on time. You’re just early because you’re nervous.” You stepped beside him, close enough that he could smell gunpowder and vanilla perfume. “The target’s already handled.”

“Handled how?” Dick’s voice carried that careful neutrality he used when he was trying not to lecture you.

You tilted your head. “Does it matter? The trafficking ring is shut down, the girls are safe, and the world has three fewer monsters in it.”

Dick closed his eyes briefly. “We talked about this—”

“No, you talked. I listened.” Your gloved fingers traced along his jaw, gentle despite the calluses from trigger guards and knife hilts. “I know you want to save everyone, even the ones who don’t deserve it. It’s what makes you beautiful, Dick Grayson. But some people can only be stopped one way.”

He caught your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And what does that make you?”

Your smile was sharp as broken glass. “Practical.”

Dick tries so hard to be the moral compass in the relationship, constantly walking the line between accepting who you are and hoping he can influence you toward less lethal methods. (He’s like “I can fix them” and just makes it even worse). It’s not as if he doesn’t want to see this side of you. He does. He just wants to help you navigate the pain jt took to get here.

He’s genuinely fascinated by your skills and will ask you to teach him your stealth techniques, though he draws the line at the more assassination-focused training.

Gets genuinely distressed when you disappear for days on missions, not because he doesn’t trust your abilities, but because he worries about what those missions might be doing to your body and mind.

Has definitely tried to introduce you to everyone else as a “reformed” anti-hero, which backfired spectacularly when you made a casual comment about eliminating witnesses. He learned not to sugar-coat you and your methods after that. Better to accept them head on.

Loves the way you move— there’s something almost hypnotic about your grace in combat that he finds beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.

Will patch up your wounds without question, but always with that worried crease between his brows that you’ve learned means he’s planning another “conversation” about your methods and how you cannot keep putting yourself in so much danger.

Sometimes catches you staring at him like you’re memorizing his face, and it breaks his heart a little because he knows it means you’re always prepared to run.

Has started leaving his window unlocked specifically for you, even though you’ve never actually needed to use the window.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　

﹒ ♪ ┊ INBOX OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

634 notes · View notes

bernardsbendystraws · 3 months ago

Text

ೃ࿔*:･ Snow .ᐟ Reader x FWB.ᐟ Matt

Matt cums with a confession.

⚠︎ smut, angst, fluff, p n v, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, missionary, confessions, crying, and more

[ Can be standalone. Previous - P1 P2 P3 ] → au masterlist

It's been a little over a week—a week since Matt called you out for being obvious about wanting more—a week since he had told you to 'take your time' because there was no rush. Having you around was enough for him, but he's getting impatient.

Every single detail has taken a toll on him. It’s all the things he’s been wanting—you've been holding his hand, kissing him, being more vulnerable.

The energy exchanged between you two has been intimate in so many ways, and he loves that, but he knows you. Matt is aware of details you ignore about yourself. It’s sad, but it’s true. He knows you fall into routines.

It’s not that you wouldn’t have the guts to confess your feelings towards Matt, it’s the fact that you couldn't admit it to yourself.

You had grown so comfortable in the pattern of being friends with benefits, change seemed too daunting for your mind to admit the change of heart to yourself. Hence why Matt called you out. He knew how you felt to a certain extent, but he was aware that he’d have to make you realize it—he’d have to break the routine.

Over the past eight days, you’ve fallen into a different pattern. There’s been no progress, no ‘talk,' you’ve let yourself sink into some sort of habit with him—and it’s not bad, but it’s not gonna be enough in the long run. He can't keep letting you do this—he can't keep doing this to himself.

Matt swore he’d talk to you about it today. He planned on keeping peaceful front while confronting you with the information, but then he saw the look in your eyes—the look of pure desire.

“Fuckkk!” you cry out, your moans echoing through his room as he pummels you into the mattress with each harsh thrust. It’s so good. Your mind is numb, everything around you fading into small bites of electricity poking along your skin as you focus on him—the way he’s making you melt.

“Yeah? Makin’ my girl feel soooo good? I—shit, baby, you—you’re tighten—”

His words are cut off by a loud hiss pursing through his lips. His elbows dig further into the mattress on either side of your head, his pace faltering for a second as your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

It fucking stings—it hurts so good.

Every time you claw harder, he’s reassured that you’re absolutely gone in pleasure, and that’s enough to make his balls feel impossibly tight, the lower part of his abdomen tensing as he tries to bite his lip in order to hold off his own release.

He doesn’t want to be overly sensitive when you finally cum. He wants to be able to drink in as much as possible, focus on every sound and every twitch of your face as you finish. He can’t do that if he cums first—but he needs you to get there faster.

“C’mon,” he drags his hand down, sliding it through your folds to collect some of the damp slick before gliding the pads of his fingers to your puffy clit. “-theeere we go,” he coos, mocking your facial expression as a strangled cry leaves your lips.

It’s perfect. You’re clenching around him impossibly tighter, your nails digging and scratching into his biceps as you gasp for air, your hips bucking upward to meet his thrusts. His bottom lip is pulsing between his teeth, his hungry gaze trapped on your face.

“Matt—fuck, I—’m—”

Your mouth draws open into a wide circle. Matt feels a bead of sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose, trying to concentrate on anything besides how perfect you're squeezing his cock.

“I know, baby, I know, just—fuck, c’mon, you got it,” he praises, biting back a groan as he feels your walls pulse around his length, a silent scream ending with an intoxicating cry as your thighs quiver and tense beneath him.

“Can I—ne–eed to cum—inside—is that—”

Matt doesn’t finish the question. Your legs swarm around him, your heels digging into his back as you make him completely bottom out inside of you. Tears are welling in the corners of your eyes, the feeling of his warm cum flooding deep into you making you gasp as your hands curl into his hair.

“-cumming—god—fuck! So good, so fuckin’ good,” he rambles, his hips stilling and his body going rigid as the wave of bliss crashes down on him, clouding his every sense, “-love you—Love you so…so much, baby.”

Your eyes bulge from your face. The gasps of air getting greedier as you comprehend his words.

“So pretty—love you so much, my perfect, perfect girl,” he coos, his hips slowing to a stop as he kisses along your neck, "-love my pretty baby, fuck—'m so lucky, look at you..."

There’s no way it was just words—not with the way he said it—not with the way he repeated it.

Matt doesn’t even realize what he said. His mind is too consumed with pleasure, his body still floating off the high as he lets his words echo without a second thought. You can tell he’s unaware by the way he just collapses on you, caressing up and down your sides as he lays gentle kisses along your chest.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks, breathing heavy as he nuzzles his face in between your breasts.

A couple seconds pass by. Usually, you comb your fingers into his hair and you both try to catch your breath—but you're deathly still, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as you feel the words calling through your mind with an astounding echo.

“Baby?” he asks, looking up with confused eyes as he slowly removes his dick from inside of you, careful to go slow. Your back arches from the sensation, your eyes glossing over as his eyes finally meet yours. “-hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his gaze wandering across your face as his brows settle closer together with confusion.

“I—you…” stumbling and stuttering over your words, you let out a deep huff of air, “-you…you love me?”

Matt’s forehead wrinkles, his eyes frantically searching your face as he lets the faint memory of his words click in his head. He said it. He confessed he loved you and he didn’t even realize it. Maybe it's because he's said it so many times to you in his dreams—or maybe it's because he can't hide his feelings anymore, not when they're so consuming.

“I….” his lips open and shut, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as he tries to swallow, “-I do.” he admits.

The announcement makes your heart pummel against your chest, your eyes still bulging, your eyelashes feeling heavy as you try to keep your gaze on him. You can feel the emotions leaking through the way he’s looking at you—you can feel every single hair on your body stiffen as you suddenly analyze how raw everything seems.

“You do?” you question, your eyes softening as Matt nods affirmatively. He may not have meant to say it, but he wasn’t gonna deny the truth—even if it meant breaking the routine.

The fear in your face is apparent. Matt lets his hands caress up and down your sides, his face falling with a slight tinge of sadness as he licks over his lips. “I…I didn’t want to say it yet, but I do mean it—I…I really mean it. And—,” his breath halts, the feeling of your hands combing through his hair making his shoulders feel less tense. “-and I know this changes things, I know that scares you, but…but I’m not gonna lie to you. It’s how I feel. I really….I love you. I do.”

He loves you. Even though you’ve been an utter mess, so much of his heart is devoted to you. It’s reassuring, like a small piece of a puzzle that makes everything finally seem clear—like a breath of fresh air that allows you to see what you truly want.

You’re enough. The way you are right now in this moment is okay. Every anxious thought that made you wanna hold back is finally disappearing, leaving a clean slate for you to just think.

He loves you as you are. It doesn't matter that you struggle with some forms of intimacy, you're enough. Being at your worst doesn't have to stop anything. The heartbreak, the catastrophe of emotions—none of it had to make you put your life on hold.

You can't wait for things to be perfect to allow yourself to be happy.

Your breath falters, your hands slightly shaky as you caress through his slightly damp hair. The rushing sensation—it’s not fear that you feel, it’s excitement. When you’re scared you always wanna run—but right now all you wanna do is stay. All you want is to memorize the way he’s looking at you, keep this feeling forever.

“Matt,” you breathe, your throat tightening as you try to ignore the burning sensation in your chest, “-I…I want you. I want this, I…I want everything.”

He bites on his tongue, trying to confirm he’s awake as his teeth clench into the muscle. The sharp sting makes his eyes water, not from the pain, but from the fact that this is real—this is happening, it’s all falling into place even if it’s messy and uncoordinated.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that?” he asks, his voice uneven as he tries to fight the urge to cry. Matt nuzzles his face back into your chest, hugging his arms underneath your back and pulling you flush against him. It’s a bit uncomfortable, but that’s not the feeling either of you are focusing on.

“Matt,” you laugh, hugging your arms around his head as you feel your face grow warm, your waterline flooding with tears as you hear the unmistakable sound of his own sniffles followed by a warm tear gliding onto the skin of your chest.

You’ve always been scared of change, you’ve always been so anxious at the thought of a different routine—but you’re not scared right now, not enough to make you want to bolt out of his arms or his bed.

The silence in the room accompanied by soft sniffles makes you well aware of the fond feeling crawling over your skin. You feel the words chant in your head, the echo of his own proclamation making your heart pulse with a feeling of excitement. It’s the type of thrill that makes you sure, a feeling so pure that it consumes any lingering fears with determination.

You’re in love.

A/N: @chrisbratt333 and @sturnsblogs and @httpssturns and @weirdothatwritess are all jumping and ik it. (Ily) also might write an alternative ending for my angst feens ✨

·˚ ༘ ʚ 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒔, 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𖧧

꒰ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ꒱

592 notes · View notes

freyito · 11 months ago

Text

ᴅᴇʟʟɪɴɢʀꜝ ⨟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you wake up next to them.

✧ a/n: for those who have read my works since i first started writing, i made a little masterpost on the mk(1) boys nightly rotuines... i figured id do one for hsr men since my mk hyperfixation died and is buried 6ft under... and i might do one for the hsr men nighttime routines but for now... wakey wakey

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.9k

⎯ Aventurine

Ever the gambler, AVENTURINE even takes a gamble on waking up in the morning. He can set as many alarms as he wants, but he always sleeps in. He finds any excuse to cuddle up next to you and enjoy your warmth for a minute, or even an hour more. He doesn’t mind coming into work late, he always finds a way to slip out of write-ups.

You’ve lost count of how many alarms went off by now, as annoying as it was. Still, despite how important Aventurine was, he’s cuddled up against your back, hands gripping your clothes tightly as if you’d dare to wiggle out of his arms. You could remind him, again and again, that he needs to go, that he has a meeting that day, or a certain deadline, and he’ll just groan and say that his superiors can handle him being gone for another hour or so.

When you do manage to convince him to get up and start the day, he does everything with such reluctance. Forget his rank, forget all of it, he’d much rather spend several more hours in bed with you, even when the sun dips low. He’s slow to put on his uniform, asking you the most mundane of questions, with answers he already knows. He skips out on breakfast at hope, douses himself in that expensive cologne that makes you have to distance yourself until he leaves, and wires you enough money to buy the entire menu from the cafe you mentioned you liked in passing.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

The early bird gets the worm, as they say, and VERITAS is no exception to the saying. Considering work has him busy, he’s thoughtful enough to leave you to sleep, if you are not accustomed to a sleep schedule like his. He tends to wake up early, to give himself enough time to prepare himself for the day. He likes to be thorough, check over his lesson plan for the day, make sure he made no mistakes the day before (although he rarely needs to revise it).

While on the outside, he seems cold and uncaring, on the inside he’s flustering himself with how much he worries about you. He knows he will see you later in the day, when you’ll bring him his lunch, or after his lectures, but some part of leaving just unsettles him. Not that he believes you’d be in danger if you were gone, but more so how you take care of yourself. Of course he knows you’re capable, but some part in him wants to make sure.

So, before he leaves, right when you wake up, he does his best to cook a filling breakfast. Most of the times, Ratio has to put it in some tupperware and save it for later at work, but there are very rare occasions that he gets to enjoy the meal with you. He always makes more– “it was an accident, nothing more,” he’ll say, shaking his head, stoic as ever. But you know it wasn’t– and shovel it onto your plate, it’s his own love language.

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL is an early riser. It’s a habit that was ingrained in him since he was knee high. Granted, he doesn’t need much sleep, and he isn’t around as often as you’d like. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, and he really only swings by your apartment once or twice every month. But that doesn’t mean he’ll sleepover, if only for a night.

Despite the fact that he wakes up even hours before you, he decides to let you sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay in bed as long as you are, soaking in the peaceful sight, one that he’s never afforded himself until you came along. He reaches out ever so tentatively, as if he’ll feel your warm skin underneath his finger tips, but all it earns him is a shudder and your face scrunching. And when you wake up, he’s in such a hurry to pretend he wasn’t watching you sleep, mumbling apologies like he’s disturbed you.

When he’s not watching over you, Boothill enjoys cooking. He might’ve lost his taste and stomach a while ago, but he’s still an excellent chef. For all he can’t eat, he loves cooking. And he believes one of the best ways of waking up is to have a hearty breakfast. While you catch up on your sleep (most likely because he showed up at your apartment late into the night scuffed and bloody(?), acting like nothing happened), he’s making the most heavenly smelling pancakes ever, humming some old country tune to himself. If you dare get up to see what he’s cooking, he shoos you back to bed, tutting and claiming that you’re ruining the surprise, as if he doesn’t do this every time.

⎯ Gallagher

For such a busy man, GALLAGHER tends to sleep a lot. Or perhaps, too little. His schedule is always fluctuating, which means he’s up early and home late. It’s unfair, you think. Most of the time he’ll come home all quiet, settle on a snack, and then sneak into bed, and pull you up close. Half the time he doesn’t even care about his clothes, opting to take off his vest and shirt and throw them on the floor. He’ll worry about the laundry later.

That being said, it’s often a gamble if you’ll see him in the morning or not. He wakes up quite early, and as much as he’d love to spend time with you, cuddle up, and go straight back to sleep, he has to at least look presentable for the next time he’s called in. Most of the time, he accidentally wakes you up when he gets up to shower, but you settle back in quite comfortably.

Most of the time, he’ll have to leave right after his shower. So he’ll do his best to be quiet as a mouse, sneak in, and press a kiss to your forehead, before starting his day. But on the days he can sleep in, or when he doesn’t have work… he climbs right back into bed. The scent of his body wash rolls over you, in the near-overpowering sandalwood haven it is. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, pull you impossible closer, and nuzzle into your neck. If you are awake by that time, he urges you to go back to sleep. ‘5 more minutes’, he’ll grumble, and in possibly record speed, he’s out like light. His arm loosens ever so slightly, as he snores away until his thirteenth alarm goes off.

⎯ Sunday

As a stickler for schedules, it’s no surprise that SUNDAY has a strict morning routine. He wakes up at 7 AM system time, 6 AM being too early, and 8 AM being too late. Of course, he encourages you to do the same. You get used to it with time.

He likes to start with a shower, of course. Something intimate with you, yet so normal. He does not mind spending an hour in the shower, but with his station, he cannot. So unfortunately, he has to cut such time short. But he makes sure to soak in every single minute left in the morning with you. A nice breakfast and some tea, as he chats away about his ‘chores’ for the day, what matters he is attending to, whether or not it is a day in the office or out and about.

Regardless of how busy his day is, Sunday makes sure you know that you are in every waking thought of his. A kiss and a hug at the door, and he’s on his way. You can see some flicker of sorrow as he leaves, as if it is something to grieve over, not being by your side for a minute longer. But alas, to achieve and infinite amount of sundays, he cannot afford to make room in his schedule for more down time.

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI never ceases to look as heavenly as ever, even in his sleep. However, he has quite a strict schedule he sticks to, something that manifested when his master started training him. He has quite the strict schedule: wake up early, shower, enjoy his breakfast, and start training, unless he has somewhere to be.

However, he does allow him so rest days, where he sleeps just a little longer, and allows himself more spare time. Very rarely do you catch him asleep when you wake up, and most mornings when he does ‘sleep in’, you often wake up to him gazing down at you. His head propped up by his hand, hair cascading down his shoulders. He could even miss out on several hours of sleep or perhaps even the entire night, and still look angelic. He greets you with a soft smile and a huff, his fingers brushing against your cheeks, as he waits for you to properly wake up.

And once you’re ready to get up, he’s ready to start the day. Anything you do, he's practically following you around like a lost puppy. When you make breakfast, you're either watching over his shoulder, or he is. He never skips out on a chance to dance in the kitchen, making something that was normally a spectacle regulated, and yet, it still feels as intimate as it does the very first time he pulled you into his arms.

⎯Sampo Koski

SAMPO KOSKI needs his beauty sleep. Granted, his sleeping schedule varies based on his business. Sometimes he needs to rob someone blind in the early hours of the morning, or his clients want to meet way past his bedtime. He’ll huff and puff and complain about it, but he always makes time to curl up in your arms like a poor little stray kitten.

When he is finally free of his dreaded work (his path in life that HE chose), he sleeps in quite late. Most of the time, he wants to enjoy the time he has left with you, pout and complain about how hard his job is (again, a career HE CHOSE). He has a lot to say when he (or you) wake up, only because he’s missed talking casually, and most of all, he’s missed you. His jobs and clients have him acting all proper, putting on some other character than he truly is for his clients. While there are some acts he likes… sometimes he just wants to break character and get his clients to buy whatever piece of junk he’s stolen.

Despite all his yapping, he truly enjoys the time he gets with you, even if most of it is him keeping you in bed. He pulls you up close to his chest if you even dare to move, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muttering pathetic little ‘don’t leave’s and the like. When you look down at him he’s just so tired, his eyebags are somehow seven times darker and he’s lost all that luster in his eyes. But you know he’s putting on an act. When you get up, he’ll be crawling to your side in no time.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Ah, the Dozing General. Who better to wake up with? While JING YUAN has to be up early, he doesn’t skip out on any time that could be spent with you. When his first alarm goes off, he’s quick to snooze it, rolling over and throwing his arm over your waist, pulling you closer. He’s used to waking up this early, of course, but he doesn’t like to miss out on those precious 30 minutes where he’s holding you close, uninterrupted. You’re accustomed to this schedule, as well. Wake up; but not really, spend the next moments cuddling, and then start your day.

As the Divine Foresight, he doesn’t get as much leisure time as he’d like, or days off. He could spend all day in bed, really, spoiling himself (as he sees it) to high heavens. But unfortunately, there is work that needs to be done, and he needs to start his day. And (un)fortunately, he quite enjoys dragging you along. A nice walk in the garden before he truly starts the day is a sign of a peaceful day. With you by his side, half-awake or not.

That being said, he does so because he wishes to spend every possible moment he has with you. His station means his workload will be unpredictable, and while he wishes that all days would be mundane, that wish will never come true. So, spending the first thirty minutes to several hours of his morning with you is what he rewards himself with. A nice meal and a good bath sets him in the right mood, being simply a step away at most in the morning.

⎯ Blade

BLADE doesn’t sleep well in general. Often times he’s woken up at all hours in the night by things he won’t share– “It’s childish.” is what he says, with a huff. Nightmares. It’s nightmares. He doesn’t have much of a reaction to them anymore, aside from grumbling and complaining quietly, which is normal. As much as he tries to go back to sleep, he simply can’t most of the time, opting to do something to keep his mind and hands busy, as sleep deprived as he is.

You tend to be met with his back when you wake up, tense as ever. When he can’t find something to do, he settles on meditation, which does nothing to calm the voices and ‘vengeance’ that addles his mind. It does too little for him, his mind always circling back to what could have been. The minute you shift in bed, he snaps out of it quickly, looking back at you with his unreadable gaze.

Most of the time, if you ask him to lay down with you, he will, as long as he doesn’t have an assignment he needs to be on. For all his sharp edges, he’s quite… dull when it comes to you. Perhaps it’s the many years he’s faced that’s made him lose his luster, or simply his own undoing. Yet, somehow, when you pull him in close, he relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps not all the way, but it’d take you a couple more years to break down his walls completely. You could sleep for another three hours and he’d at least get time to close his eyes and let his mind rest; something he desperately needs.

⎯ Luocha

While LUOCHA’s “work” has him up quite early, well into the AMs. Of course, with all the traveling he’s done, his sleep schedule varies, and it’s not like he gets to spend as much time as he’d like with you, but you tag along all the same. He could be awake at 3AM system time and you’d be sound asleep until 10AM, and somehow, he’d still look as handsome as ever. You’re starting to feel a little jealous.

Still, he makes time to greet you in the morning. Aside from being a merchant, he is, of course, a healer, and he wants to make sure you're sleeping right. And, perhaps to catch up, if he has been gone for a few days. After all, not only does physical health matter, but mental, as well. A quick little chat, maybe some tender touches, and a hearty meal that he’s brought from the markets is quite enough mental stimulation, yes?

Sometimes, it seems he disagrees, choosing to crawl in bed alongside you, even if you chose to wake up properly. He’ll play with your hair, whisper sweet nothings to you, or simply just stare and smile. He doesn’t get to be affectionate often, either, and often that need for human touch culminates, which leads to those impromptu cuddling sessions in the morning.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

As a healer, JIAOQIU wants to make sure you (and him) maintain a normal, healthy sleep schedule. Unless he’s on an emergency call, he tends to wake up at a mostly normal time, between 8-10 AM. Of course, he wakes you up with him, wanting to start his day off right with your pretty face.

He wakes you up oh so sweetly for a man with such a scheming smile. His fingers glide over your skin, pushing your hair behind your ear, using such a sweet voice, one so sweet that it makes your teeth ache. And when you're finally properly awake, he’s all too excited to rush off to the kitchen, like a giddy child.

Of course, what’s a morning without Jiaoqiu without some breakfast? When you return from your shower, the kitchen is alive with his cooking, the sounds of sizzling and smells of spices (what else?) a delightful concoction. What is he cooking? Ji dan bing, a fulfilling breakfast. While you are the only person he cuts down the spice for, the food still has enough kick to make you make a face. Of course, his plate smells so spicy that it makes you recoil, which earns a chuckle from the Foxian.

⎯ Moze

Most of the time, MOZE sneaks into your shared bed by the morning, seeing as most of his work is carried out during the night. By the time he’s settled in bed, it’s around the time you wake up. It’s a peaceful sight, really. You’re so used to him scowling or simply not emoting, that when you wake up to his face, tranquil as ever, it makes your heart flutter.

Of course, that does not last. He is up within the first couple of seconds you stare too long, easily woken by any simple rustling. The feeling of someone’s eyes on him means one thing: danger. And he unfortunately hasn’t shaken that habit. However, he has grown used to the fact that it’s you staring at him in the morning hours, and thankfully you are spared a knife to your throat.

He jolts awake with a disgruntled groan, his eyes darting over your features, taking in as much information as he can in his hazy mind state, as if he hadn’t seen your face a thousand times over. Once he is satisfied with the fact that it’s you, he lays back down with a huff, before pulling you down with him. You may have the day to start, but he would like at least a couple more moments in bed with you, he’s stubborn that way.

⎯ Dan Heng

With his days off, DAN HENG tends to enjoy lounging. If not lounging, then reading, and if not reading, then cleaning. But most of the time, since you came back from the Xianzhou Loufu, he’s been sleeping in an awful lot. You're often the first to wake up, or at least, the first to get out of bed.

Most of the time, you sleep in with him, happy to get a couple extra minutes to a couple hours more of sleep. It’s a nice moment of peace and quiet after the amount of missions you two have been on, while March and the Trailblazer updates you on what’s happening wherever they are. Still, sometimes sleeping in gets kind of boring. So while Dan Heng catches on some much needed sleep (and alone time), you busy yourself with cleaning around the express, helping Pom-Pom with certain tasks, and even doing your best to cook up some breakfast.

When you bring your expert attempt at pancakes back to you and Dan Heng’s room, he perks up. He goes from sulking to practically beaming (or what you can consider beaming, you get a soft smile nonetheless), and digs in eagerly. It seems like enough to energize him for a couple of days, pushing away what had happened on the Loufu to the furthest reaches of his mind.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD does not get much time in the mornings with you or himself. As captain of the guard, he has to be up early, and on call whenever the need arises. While it is very rare that he is called to dispatch an issue in the middle of the night, he is often reluctant to simply leave you in the morning. Of course, he won’t wake you for his own selfish reasons, he just simply wishes he could get more time to enjoy your presence in the morning.

As quietly as he tries to move, somehow he always wakes you up, or perhaps that's what your sleep cycle has gotten used to. Oftentimes, you wake up when he’s taking his shower, his soft humming rising over the sound of water. You know he only does this when he believes he is alone or heard, and every single time, you can’t help but think of it as cute. But you won’t tell him you heard it.

Most of the time you stay up so you can say goodbye to Gepard and tell him to have a good day, while he stumbles over excuses that he doesn’t need. He’s adorable in all his fluster, before he finally collects himself with a deep breath. He promises he’ll see you at the end of the day, and that he’ll bring some dinner home from one of your favorite restaurants.

⎯ Caelus

What adventure with CAELUS drag you on next? That’s a constant question that haunts your mind every time an adventure is done. The most sleep you get is on the Express, in between missions. In the morning’s, he wakes up with such determination, it’s almost impressive. He could have the worst sleep of his life and he wakes up raring to go.

Of course, he does his best not to wake you if you aren’t up. In fact, he’ll do his best to be as quiet as possible, sneaking out of the room, and even tip-toeing down the cabins. Like any little movement will wake his precious partner up. However, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll cuddle back in bed and pull you really close, refusing to let go unless you need to do something.

On the occasion you guys are out on a mission, he is the complete opposite. He could wake up well into the noon and groan and complain about not getting enough sleep, even if he slept like a baby. Of course, he wants to get on with his adventures, but at the same time, the hotel’s bed is soooo comfy, and he doesn’t want to leave. Which, he’ll keep you there too until he’s fully awake, spooning you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

⎯ Welt

On his days off, which seems to be most days now, WELT sleeps in only a little. Mornings with him are nothing short of intimate, simply laying there in each others arms, muttering sweet words. Truth be told, he enjoys these quiet moments, even if they push back the work he has to get done around the Express.

Still, no one's complaining, right? The work he has to get done will get done eventually, and he can spare a couple hours for his beloved. He cherishes every stolen second, as the hours tick away, his fingers trailing over your skin, before cupping your face. Framing his entire world in his palm.

However, you can’t stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, you do have to get up, and start your day. Welt won’t leave your side, though. Not if he can help it, at least. You two share a shower together, some more words, of course, and even cook together afterwards. Pom Pom huffs and puffs about not only Welt, but you being late and taking too long, and how the Express is founded on the structure of the schedule. It’s okay, however, because Pom Pom will be thanking you two for your hard work (sweeping the other cabins, cleaning the windows, and vacuuming the carpet) at the end of the day.

2K notes · View notes

arkaiveofurown · 3 months ago

Note

Hi!! It's my first time when I request smth, so please if smth wrong , if I sounds rude, weird or silly pls forgive me🙏🙏 Also i don't know English very well, so sorry if i have a lot of mistakes. I want to request Law x fem!reader, fluff, comfort (?) Law and reader just started dating recently, and they just started sleeping in the same bed, and he noticed that his nightmares have become much less frequent/he doesn't have them at all. MAYBE IT'S BORING AND WEIRD SORRY. But it's on my mind for long time. And i think it's cute that reader helping him handle his nightmares. 😓😓😓

Dreams and Heartbeats

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Reader

After recently becoming a couple, Law and you begin sharing a bed. Slowly, Law realizes something unexpected—since sleeping beside you, his nightmares have almost completely stopped.

Word Count: ~1,900 words

tags: fluff, comfort

my masterlist here ♡

----

a/n: hiii, don't worry you did great and this is not a weird or boring request at all! i love writing about soft trafalgar law ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

----

The sea was loud tonight. Waves crashed hard against the Polar Tang’s hull, and the lights inside flickered every time thunder rolled overhead.

You wrapped your blanket tighter around yourself as you stood outside Law’s room. Your own bunk was cold and damp—something had leaked near the vent, and with the storm raging on, it felt like sleeping in a freezer.

You hesitated a little before knocking. Your heart was beating fast. You and Law had only been dating for a few weeks. Everything still felt new and a bit awkward. But he had told you before, “You can come to me anytime.” You just didn’t think you’d take him up on that offer this soon.

The door slid open. Law looked tired but alert, like always. He was wearing a loose black shirt and sweatpants—rare for someone who usually looked so put-together.

His eyes lowered to the blanket in your arms. “Something wrong?” he asked.

You nodded. “My room’s freezing. There’s a leak. I tried to wait it out, but I can’t sleep like that…”

He stepped aside without a word, letting you in. His room was small but warm. There was a desk in the corner, a stack of books on the floor, and a large bed that looked… very lived in. You stood there for a second, unsure what to do.

“You can take the left side,” he said simply, already climbing into the right and pulling the blanket up.

You slipped in carefully, your body still a little tense. The sound of the storm outside was a little quieter here. You stared at the ceiling for a while, unsure if you should say anything.

Then, he spoke. “I’m not good at this kind of thing, but… I’m glad you’re here.”

You looked at him. “You are?”

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

You smiled, heart settling a bit. “Me too.”

You scooted a little closer, and he opened his arm without a word, letting you rest against his side. Wrapped up together, you listened to the storm as it slowly faded into quiet.

----

The next morning, you woke before Law.

The storm had passed, leaving behind a gentle rocking of the sea. Golden-orange light spilled through the round window, painting soft shapes on the walls of his room. The air felt warmer, calmer.

You turned your head and looked at him. Law was still asleep—flat on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. His other hand rested lightly on the blanket between you, fingers curled in a relaxed way you’d never seen before. There was something peaceful about the way he breathed, slow and steady, like he wasn’t carrying the weight of a thousand thoughts for once.

You smiled to yourself.

You didn’t want to disturb him, so you carefully slid out from under the blanket. But as soon as your feet hit the cold floor, you heard his voice—rough and quiet.

“You’re leaving already?”

You looked back. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but his arm had moved, now resting against the pillow where you’d just been.

“I was going to let you sleep,” you whispered, pulling your blanket around your shoulders again. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

Law finally opened his eyes, blinking a few times as if trying to get used to the light. He sat up slowly and rubbed the back of his neck. His hair was a bit messy, and his voice still had that gravelly edge from sleep. Somehow, that made him feel more… real.

“I didn’t have any nightmares,” he said, almost absentmindedly.

You paused mid-step, your hand tightening on the blanket. “You… get those a lot?”

He shrugged, but it wasn’t careless. He was just trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Sometimes. Not every night. Depends on what’s going on.” His gaze dropped to his lap. “They’ve been worse lately. Ever since Dressrosa.”

Your heart ached. You walked back over to the bed and sat beside him, careful but close. You rested your hand gently over his.

“And last night?”

He glanced at you, then shook his head. “None.”

You smiled softly. “Good. I’m glad.”

----

After that night, it became normal for you to share Law’s bed. It didn’t always start that way—sometimes you fell asleep reading in his room, or you stayed to help him go over reports until midnight. But he never asked you to leave.

Over time, you noticed a pattern. On the nights you were there, he slept better. His breaths stayed steady. His face didn’t tense up in sleep. And when you weren’t there—on nights you were on watch or helping the crew—he looked tired the next day.

One night, curled up under the covers, you asked him, “Do I really help?”

His eyes were closed, but his voice came after a beat, low and honest. “Yeah. You do.”

You waited, giving him space in case he wanted to say more. After a moment, he did.

“Before you started staying here… I’d have dreams almost every night.” His voice stayed calm, but you could feel the weight in it. “Sometimes it was the fire in Flevance. The heat. The smoke. The screaming.”

Your chest tightened.

“Other nights…” He let out a slow breath. “Everyone I looked at had white lead disease. The crew, people we passed by in port, even you. Just standing there, covered in it. Dying the way they all did.”

You squeezed his hand under the blanket, gently.

He continued, voice a little rougher now. “And sometimes it was Corazon. I dream about him the most. He’s… standing in front of me, trying to hide me. But the bullets don’t stop. He keeps getting shot, over and over. I can’t move. I can’t do anything. Just watch.”

There was a long silence. You didn’t push him to keep going. You just let your fingers brush slowly over the back of his hand, grounding him.

“I know they’re dreams,” he said after a while. “But when I wake up, my chest hurts. Like I couldn’t breathe the whole time.”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching for the boy he used to be. For the man he still was, carrying all of it.

But then, his hand tightened around yours.

“That doesn’t happen when you’re here,” he said quietly. “With you beside me, it’s different. My head doesn’t go to those places. I can rest. Like my brain finally shuts up.”

You blinked back tears, smiling softly as you leaned your forehead against his arm.

“Good,” you whispered. “That’s really good.”

There was a pause. Then he added, voice lower now, closer: “It’s not just the nightmares. It’s easier to sleep when I know you’re next to me.”

That made your heart ache—in the best way. You shifted closer until your nose brushed his collarbone, and you wrapped your arm gently around his waist.

“I’m always here,” you whispered.

He turned toward you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know.”

----

You had been working on something for a while now—just a little handmade charm. It wasn’t perfect, but you wove it with small bits of string, shells, and feathers from the last island you visited. A dreamcatcher. Not traditional, but something you hoped would carry your feelings.

One night, as Law was organizing maps and logs for the next mission, you gave it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking it carefully.

You looked down, nervous. “It’s a dreamcatcher. I made it for you.”

He studied it for a long time, fingers brushing over the rough knots and soft feathers.

You added quickly, “I know it’s not much. But I just thought… if we’re on separate missions or you have to stay up late again, maybe it’ll help. Not because I think you need something like this. Just… a reminder. I’m still with you. Even if I’m not next to you.”

Law didn’t say anything right away. He just kept looking at it—running his fingers slowly along the loops, the shells, the threads. His thumb paused over the center, where the knots came together.

You started to fidget, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s silly. Sorry. You don’t have to—“

“No,” he said, softly but firmly, finally lifting his eyes to yours. “It’s not silly.”

You looked up, surprised to see his expression so open, so raw. He stepped closer, gently resting the dreamcatcher on his desk.

“You’re always thinking about others,” he said, brushing your hair back. “That’s something I really like about you.”

Your face warmed. “Well… I think about you most.”

He stared at you for a moment longer, like he was memorizing you. Then he leaned in and kissed you—slow, careful, like you were made of something precious. His fingers found the side of your neck, and yours gripped the edge of his shirt.

It wasn’t rushed. It didn’t need to be. It just was—quiet, full, real.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing you in like the world outside the ship didn’t exist for now.

“Thank you,” he murmured again. And you knew he didn’t just mean for the dreamcatcher.

He meant for everything.

----

There were a few times you had to be apart—separate missions, errands, night shifts. You missed him more than you expected. But the messages helped.

You left notes in his coat pocket, books, drawers.

“Did you sleep okay?” “Top drawer. Snacks. Don’t skip meals.” “I’m proud of you, always.”

He left some too. Folded bits of paper in your bag, under your pillow, in your toolkit.

“Missed you. Be careful.” “No nightmares. Dreamcatcher worked.” “Can’t wait till you’re back.”

The crew noticed.

“Captain’s softer lately,” Shachi said, nudging Penguin.

Bepo added, “He even thanked me yesterday.”

“He what?” they both whispered in unison.

Law, overhearing, smacked a notebook onto the table without looking up. “Focus on your work.”

But they saw the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Love hadn’t changed who he was. But being with you made him lighter, steadier. Like he didn’t have to carry everything alone anymore.

----

You were sailing back to the Polar Tang after a short mission on land. Cold wind rushed through your hair as the submarine came into view. You weren’t gone long—just three days—but it felt like weeks.

Law met you on the deck.

“Back already?” he asked, hiding his smile.

You walked straight to him and hugged him, ignoring the crew’s cheers and whistles in the background.

“Missed you,” you said against his shoulder.

He held you close. “Me too.”

You glanced up. “Did you still get nightmares?”

He looked down at you and shook his head slowly.

“No,” he said. “But I got a good dream instead.”

You blinked. “Yeah? What was it about?”

He hesitated, then leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“We got married.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “Really?”