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proxima-writes · 4 months

Text

along for the ride

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count:

summary: when joel finds out tommy put out a craigslist ad to get him a date for valentine’s day, he doesn’t expect it to go as well as it does.

author’s note: i finally finished something! was it anything from my extensive wip list? no! don’t think about it too hard! anyways, if you enjoy this fic, please consider giving it a reblog, a comment, or dropping into my ask box 💕

warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors dni), no use of y/n, pre-outbreak!joel miller, no mentions of sarah, little shit!tommy miller, blind date, internet safety whomst, vaginal fingering, oral sex, woman on top, p in v, dirty talk, pet names. let me know if i’ve missed any!

“I have a surprise for you,” Tommy says at dinner. Joel pauses, fork scraping against his plate.

“That can’t be good,” he sighs. “What now?”

“Why do you assume it’s somethin’ bad?”

“Last time you said you had a surprise for me, I had chickens in my backyard.”

Tommy laughs. “It’s nothin’ like that this time.”

“Well, then, spit it out,” Joel demands.

Tommy reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper that he opens on the table, smoothing out the creases before sliding it over to Joel.

“Reservation confirmation?” Joel reads. He recognizes the name of the restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters dress in all black and the menu doesn’t have prices listed beside the items.

“Yep. I got you your first Valentine’s Day date,” Tommy replies proudly. Joel glares at him.

“What do you mean?”

seeking valentine

36M looking to treat a lady to a date to remember. pic attached. email [email protected] with a pic and bio for consideration.

[img01.jpg]

You’re half a bottle of wine deep when you stumble across the Craigslist ad. When you click on the picture, your interest is further piqued by the handsome man that appears on the screen. He’s standing in front of a black pick up truck dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that stretches across his tan muscles. His brown hair is cut short, just enough length for you to notice that it’s beginning to curl across his forehead and by his neck. His beard frames a bright smile that crinkles the corners of his dark eyes.

Whoever he is, he’s hot. He’d be the perfect way to get over being dumped two weeks ago by your boyfriend of two years.

Your logic was lost somewhere between your second and third glasses of wine, which is why you click on the e-mail address in the ad and start typing. The reply is normal, at first, facts about yourself like your name and age and occupation, but you quickly end up derailing the message with an explanation about why this handsome guy should pick you, making sure to include that you’ve already got a reservation at a popular restaurant for the occasion. The picture you add is a recent photo from a cousin’s wedding that your aunt had e-mailed to you.

Before you can think better of it, you click send. You take one last look at the man’s photo before shutting your laptop and stumbling off to bed to dream of brown eyes and tan skin.

Joel taps his fingers against the white tablecloth, eyes fixed on the door of the restaurant. This is stupid, he thinks. Why did he agree to this? Why did he let Tommy convince him this was a good idea? He should have just told him no and been done with it but somehow he’s here, sitting at a table for two in a fancy restaurant and feeling like a sore thumb in the only suit he owns.

He’s lost enough in his thoughts that he doesn’t see you when you first come in, doesn’t realize you’re here until the hostess is walking up with you close behind in a beautiful dress and he suddenly remembers exactly why he agreed to Tommy’s idiot scheme.

“Joel?” You ask. He stands, nearly knocking the table in his haste to greet you. You lean in for a brief hug and he catches the warm vanilla scent of you before you pull away and smile at him.

He rounds the table to pull your chair out for you and makes sure you’re settled before returning to his seat. A waiter swoops by to offer the wine menu and explain the pre fixe menu for the evening while he pours two complimentary glasses of champagne into the crystal glasses beside your plates. An awkward silence settles when he leaves, Joel’s leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table as he tries to think of something to say.

“This is weird, right?” You finally say. “This feels weird.”

Joel breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s just what I was thinkin’.”

"Oh, thank god." You take a long sip of your champagne. "I can't believe I actually responded to a Craigslist ad for a date."

"I can't believe my stupid brother came up with this whole thing," Joel replies. "I could'a killed him."

Your eyes go wide. "Wait, your brother made the post? Why?!"

"He seems to think that at thirty-six, I should have had a date for Valentine's Day by now," Joel explains. "Why did you respond to the ad?"

"I had been drinking a lot of wine and having a lot of feelings and the internet was unfortunately not helping the situation."

Joel laughs, tension leaving his shoulders as he does. "We're an interestin' pair, huh?"

"Cheers to that," you reply, lifting your glass for him to tap his against with a gentle clink.

As the dinner progresses, the conversation starts to flow with surprising ease. No topic goes untouched, from jobs to hobbies to a long list of favorites. When you’ve exhausted those topics, you move on to swapping stories about your friends and families. By the time he finishes paying a hefty check (and declining your offer to split the cost), Joel feels like he’s known you for a lifetime.

"I had a really nice time, Joel.”

"Me, too," he replies. Christ, you're pretty, bright eyed as you look at him with a soft smile. He reaches for your hand, pulling you closer until your chest brushes his and can wrap an arm around your waist. "This okay?"

"Mhm," you hum with a little nod. Joel's gaze drops to your mouth and he finds himself wondering what your pretty lips would feel like as he kissed you. Would he be able to taste that chocolate torte from dessert on your tongue?

“Joel?” You whisper. He didn’t even realize how close he’s gotten, a few scant inches separating you now. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

He chuckles. “You want me to?”

“Please.”

Joel kisses you, warm lips moving in perfect harmony with yours. It’s chaste, until it’s not. It’s chaste, until his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip and dips inside to tangle with yours. It’s chaste, until his hands are pulling you closer with a tight grip on your hips and—

“Get a room!”

You break apart, startled by the shout from someone passing by on the sidewalk. You can’t stop the laugh that breaks free, your shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“You wanna get out of here?” Joel asks. “I can walk you to your car.”

“I took a cab, actually.”

Joel smirks. “You want a ride, sweetheart?”

Your face grows hot from the look in his eyes, the double meaning to his words not lost. He holds a hand out and you slip your palm against his, fingers folding together so that he can lead you to the parking lot down the street from the restaurant.

Joel opens the passenger door of the truck you recognize from the photo in the ad, helping you step up into the cab and going so far as to pull the seatbelt down, reaching across your body to fasten it. He looks up at as he pulls away, hand dragging across your stomach and making you shiver.

He shuts the door and gets in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the parking lot and following your directions toward your apartment. At the first red light, he settles his broad palm on your thigh, just above your knee, giving you a little squeeze. Feeling bold, you spread your legs the tiniest bit and Joel takes the invitation for what it is, sliding his hand higher.

The light turns green and the sudden movement presses you to the back of the seat, jostles you enough that your legs fall open further. You move to close them, but Joel’s hand moves again, high enough now that if you moved the slightest bit, you could probably get some relief from the ache that’s been building since he kissed you.

His pinky stretches, barely grazing your pussy, but it makes you gasp nonetheless, squirming in your seat from the want. At the next red light, he abandons all pretense, slipping his hand beneath the elastic of your panties and dragging his fingers through the embarrassing amount of wetness that’s already gathered there for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. You turn your head to look at him, his sharp jaw clenched tight as he circles your clit with his index and middle finger. “This wet for me already, baby?”

You moan in response, unable to form words as he touches you, alternating between soft strokes and fast circles over your sensitive clit. Your hips chase his every movement, desperate for relief from the pressure building in your core.

“Joel,” you whimper, grabbing his forearm, digging your nails into the muscle. Your eyes squeeze shut against the overwhelming sensations.

He turns the truck and hastily throws it in park, pulling his hand from you just as you were cresting that wave. You whine at the loss but he shushes you, undoing your seatbelt and getting out of the truck with a slam of the door. It takes you a second to realize he’s stopped because you’ve reached your apartment complex.

The passenger door opens and Joel is there, gripping the door tightly. “Let’s go.”

You lead him to your door on unsteady legs. He follows you inside your apartment, pressed close to your back while you set your bag on the table by the door.

“Where’s your room?” He asks, hands already rucking up the fabric of your dress. “I gotta finish what I started.”

You hurry down the hall to your room together and you silently thank your past self for cleaning up before your date. Joel wastes no time reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging it up over your head and tossing it into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck, even prettier than I imagined,” he groans, dropping to his knees. “Soon as you walked in wearin’ that I knew I was a goner.” He eases your panties down your thighs, helps you step out of them without toppling over. “On the bed.”

You obey without hesitation, crawling across your familiar mattress and lying on your back, head on your pile of pillows. Joel removes his suit jacket, eyes dark as his gaze roams across your body and makes your skin prickle under the intensity. His shirt and pants follow in quick succession, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs that highlight an impressive bulge.

Joel joins you on the bed and you’re hypnotized by the movement of muscle beneath tan skin. He urges your legs apart, calves draped over his broad shoulders to give him room to settle between your thighs. He looks up at you, holding your gaze as he takes his first taste of you with a deep groan you feel through your whole body.

Your head drops back to your pillow with a shout, legs tensing around Joel’s head. You bury your hands in his hair, holding on tight while he devours you. His tongue circles your clit before dipping down to your dripping center to curl inside of you. A thick finger follows, pressing deep and withdrawing slowly.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Joel says. “How’s that feel, huh?”

“So good,” you moan. “More, please, Joel.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He eases another finger into you, curling them along your front wall with pointed focus. That knot of release tights again, your muscles growing tense with it the longer he moves with your body. He wraps his lips around your aching clit, alternating between sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and working it with his tongue until you’re shouting a string of curses and shatter beneath him.

Joel works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, more puddle than human. He crawls up your body, leaving kisses on what seems like every inch of you as he does and you pull him close when he’s face to face with you, kissing him deeply and chasing the earthy taste of yourself from his mouth.

His hips press against yours, grinding his length against your inner thigh. The kiss turns sloppy, his breath coming in sharp pants and thrusts growing frantic, skin dappled with sweat in the warm air of your room. You tilt your hips, pushing a hand against his shoulder to get him flat on his back with you straddling his waist, stomach flexing beneath you.

He’s deliciously disheveled beneath you with messy hair and kiss swollen lips. His hands find your thighs, sliding upward over your stomach to find your breasts, pinching a nipple between his fingers and making you hiss. Your hips rock over the softness of his belly and you reach behind yourself to palm his cock.

“Look real good like this,” Joel pants, flexing into your touch.

“Well, you did ask me if I wanted a ride,” you tell him.

You lean over towards your nightstand, tugging the top drawer open and rummaging around for a condom. Foil packet in hand, you lift off of Joel for a moment to allow him the chance to hastily shove his underwear off before settling back down on top of his thighs and taking his length in your hand with a slow stroke that makes his mouth drop open, cock pulsing against your palm. You lean forward, licking the flushed tip clean of the pre-cum gathered there.

“You’re killin’ me,” Joel says through gritted teeth. “Wanna feel you, quit teasin’.”

You decide to put you both out of your misery, ripping the condom wrapper and rolling the latex over him. You lift up and he holds his cock steady with a fist around the base as you position yourself over him on your knees and slowly take him into your tight heat, twin moans echoing in the room as you do.

When your hips are flush with his, the wiry curls at the base of his cock grow damp with your arousal as you rock above him, grinding your clit against him and clenching around his length. He holds your hips in a loose grasp, not urging your movements but feeling them as you chase your pleasure.

“Christ,” Joel moans, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut. He plants his feet, thrusting up as you grind down and making you gasp. “Ain’t lastin’ much longer, baby.”

You lean forward, changing the angle and allowing him to pound inside of you, his cock pulsing as his release nears. You’re right there with him, the drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you making you tip over the edge with a shout muffled into the sweat slick skin of his neck.

He slams himself deep, cock pulsing as he spends himself into the condom inside of you. You collapse against his chest, the two of you catching your breath in the aftermath. When you roll off of Joel and onto the mattress, he’s quick to pull you back against him, your head resting on his chest.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you interrupt breathlessly. “It was.”

After a moment, Joel quietly asks, “What now?”

“You can stay…if you want.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing along your shoulder. “I want that.”

Joel’s phone rings at an ungodly hour the next morning. He struggles to find his discarded pants in the dark but when he finally unearths the obnoxious device, his greeting is a snapped, “What?”

“He lives!” Tommy cheers from the other end. “It was a fifty-fifty chance you were dead or in bed.”

“What do you want, Tommy?”

“Just checkin’ to see how the date went. Must’ve been pretty good, seein’ as how I’m at your house and you’re nowhere to be found.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he says. He’s about to hang up when he hears Tommy shout, “Wait!”

“What now?” Joel asks.

“Ain’t you gonna thank me?”

Joel snaps the phone shut, tossing it into the piles of clothes and crawling back into bed with you.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fic #tlou fanfiction #tommy tlou

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spdrvyn · 4 months

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miguel and his sunshine human gf that loves to annoy the shit out of him and sometimes in order to stop her/calm her down he has to put her in an air jail 🤭

ardor and annoyance

miguel and reader who's a bundle of energy and joy. having to tame your late night rituals is no easy task, but it's one that he's always willing to take. what's more important than having your dear lover in bed with you?

pure fluff. reader can be seen as either civilian/spider. is it really one of my fics if i don't write about how much miguel hates himself even by just a little bit

dividers by @cafekitsune

What Miguel learned from being a leader, setting an example, being his mother's son, and serving as a hero was patience.

It was a value that he had slipped up on from time to time, more often with himself. If he ever found himself at wit's end with someone else, he would mope until it passed or wait to get some precious alone time and healthily expresses his emotions by making a mess of his quarters and breaking down until he'd get tired and just sleep it off, restarting this precious cycle.

Eventually though, he had begun to no longer exhaust himself by getting angry. Unless the entire multiverse was at stake (ahem), then he'd have to spring into action. But his main priority now is to fix the problem, get it over with, rinse, and repeat.

When you entered his life, he realized that there was more to his ridiculous routines, more than his self-destructive attitudes, and that true patience came with love and caring as well. Obviously, he's light years away from being content with himself, but you redirect him, navigating through when that dastardly cycle repeats, so that you can wash it away and make him anew.

Miguel isn't the only one that has his layers peeled back though, there's so much that he notices about you. That composed and mature persona that you set up for yourself, that has built good albeit only professional connections with the other spiders eases its way into a bubbly and joyful demeanor whenever you're around him.

It almost didn't make sense, Miguel just seemed like the kind of guy to not want to do that with, to not want to relax around. He couldn't even relax on his own, the thought that anyone could feel comfortable in their own skin around him was shoved into the back of his mind. That connection that he so painfully needs is put aside for prioritizing the safety of everyone everywhere else.

Your true nature is infectious, to his dismay. It's too difficult to avoid the care that you're so insistant on giving him, it started with working overtime, to enjoying working overtime, to going over to Miguel's place for work purposes, to going over to Miguel's place for non-work purposes to kissing him for the first time, and now you're dating.

The catch with Miguel having let loose around him was that all that conserved energy circulated around his apartment, whenever he got home from another long day at the Society, he'd climb into you doing five different things all at once. Reading, watching a show, watching a baking show, baking a cake, and texting.

It was hectic, nothing that he couldn't handle, but how you're not on the verge of collapsing probably deep into the trenches of the night concerned him. For slightly more selfish reasons, Miguel doesn't like not having you in bed with him. This wasn't as extreme as the missions he took up at work, but it was a mission nonetheless.

You're... Busy, Miguel doesn't know what with. He sees yarn, he sees cookie dough, he sees a laptop, tablet, phone, and headphones, and so many other trinkets that are buried under the pile that you've built on the kitchen counter. Your focus shifts between each individual station, and Miguel shifts closer and closer to you quietly.

You're occupied on the laptop, occasionally looking at the stove while you're doing so. Then returning to your yarn and now knitting needles? Before mixing the cookie dough even more and even liking the mixture off of the spoon, humming to yourself contently.

You don't even notice that Miguel is right behind you, until he secures you against his front and lifts you up with a squeal.

"Miguel!" You whine, squirming against his solid arms. Your feet swing in the air and you try to push his hands away from your midsection, but there's no use in trying to free yourself when it's with him anyway.

"Go to sleep. No más tonterías, cariño." His voice is fogged by sleep, as his grasp on you tightens. You turn slightly with what little space that you have and you can see his slumber muddled stature. Tousled hair, relaxed expression, eyes half-lidded, and he raises a brow at your staring. "What?"

"Nothing," you sigh, "I'll go to sleep, you just have to let me go."

Miguel shakes his head, rocking your swinging body from side to sidet to go along with it as well. "No, I don't trust you." There's a humorous fry to it, you accentuate the pout on your lips, and he laughs.

It takes a little while for you to convince him to put you down, you can't say this is the most uncomfortable position for you. Whenever you're around Miguel, you always wind up in his arms one way or another, but this time that principle is just being used against you. The conversation shifts, less about your captivity, more about Miguel's day, your day, anything new outside, anything new in Spider Society. The position you're in, the silky nature in his voice, it gets you groggy and Miguel can sense it.

He wins.

He handles you to the bed properly now, laying your once tireless form onto the comforter as he tucks you in. You don't even try objecting anymore, the stove is still on, the video on your laptop was probably still playing, and that knitting project will have to remain unfinished until tomorrow, but it was fine. You know that everything is fine when Miguel gets into bed with you, pressing his lips to the top of your head in one long kiss.

He wins this little dispute of yours, but you know that you've won at life knowing that your nights end like this, engulfed in his embrace, the sound of his breathing bringing you to a deep sleep as well.

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jenomov · 11 months

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tape 001. (l.jn + 00z line)

wc: 1.9k

“c’mon man, it’s my turn to choose the movie, it was your turn last week!” haechan groaned, slightly pushing jaemin.

“fine, but we’ll use renjun’s laptop this time, since a certain someone broke mine last week.” he turns back to haechan, rolling his eyes. “hey fuck you dude, i told you it was an accident alread-“

“no way! i have an essay coming up, i’m using it as soon as i finish this.” renjun yelled, from the kitchen, cleaning the dishes. “use jeno’s or something, he’s not here anyway.”

“are you crazy?” jaemin yelled back. “there’s private stuff on there!! and he only shares his laptop with his girlfriend.”

“so what?” haechan laughed. “he probably privates all his stuff anyway, you know how he is. plus, he has a bunch of movies in a file he keeps for us” — he gets up, fixes his hair before going into jeno’s room. “so i’ll go get it.”

a few minutes after looking for the device, haechan comes back to the living room, sitting between jaemin and renjun, opening the laptop. groaning, he’s met with a lockscreen, asking for a password.

“see, i told you we should’ve used renjun’s laptop, jeno’s too private man, i can’t even get in myself.” jaemin sighs, facing haechan. “where’s your laptop anyway?” he questions.

“mark has it, and he won’t be back until tomorrow.” he says typing on the keyboard, thinking of the right password.

“dude stop trying shit, you’ll lock his laptop forever.” renjun grabs his arm, already annoyed. “let’s just use the tv.”

“hold on man, there’s a hint here”

⃣[who’s my best friend?]

“oh yeah, that’s easy, it’s obviously me!” jaemin laughed.

however, the three boys were all met with a “try again” sentence. confused, they tried you, renjun, haechan, and well, most of the members, all answers being wrong, until “mark” somehow unlocked the laptop, making them stare at the homescreen picture being you and jeno on some sort of vacation.

“what the fuck?” haechan and jaemin yelled at the same time. they looked at each other for a few seconds, feeling betrayed.

“well! guess i’ll need to talk to mark when he comes back to see who his REAL best friend is!” haechan faked wiping a tear off his face, while looking for jeno’s pirated movie file. “i’m pretty sure it would’ve been too easy if he chose jaemin man.” renjun added. “dude, jeno’s not scared of getting caught having all those downloaded movies?” renjun asked, “there’s a shit load of pirated clips in there…” he continues.

minutes pass by and the silence in the living room is sometimes broken by “no not that” and “we’ve already watched this”. even added by a “we can’t watch horror movies because renjun is scared of those”—

“hey fuck you man, atleast i’m not a psycho and watch murder stories videos all night like you jaemin” he scoffs.

“whatever fuckass let’s just do something else— “hey guys?” haechan speaks up, making the bickering between the other two stop. “i think we’ve found our movie for tonight.”

“jeno’s into weird movies? there’s no title— ouu it’s probably something dark- ow!” jaemin laughs out loud while renjun hits him in the arm.

haechan clicks on the video, curiosity getting the best of him.

“woah what are you doing?” renjun stops him, panic taking over. “what? he probably just forgot to put the title on it, it’s probably just a regular movie, like spider-man or some shit.”

renjun sits back down, pushing his two toned hair back, nervous. “alright. besides, maybe it’s a movie we haven’t watched yet, i’m sick of you guys watching scary movies.”

“okay jun, just press play, we wanna see what’s that about.” jaemin retorts.

the beginning of the video shows nothing weird of any sort, just a dimly lit room and a bed— that kind of looks like jeno’s. without paying any mind to the details, they keep watching.

“shit, i’ll be back, my phone’s ringing.” renjun gets up to the bathroom, excusing himself.

the video continues normally, the dead silence of the room gets cut off by giggles and heavy sighs, which made the boys question their choice of movie.

“dude is that fucking porn? i don’t wanna watch that shit.” jaemin takes the laptop in his hands, ready to press the back arrow when he suddenly stops his movements.

“what?” confused, haechan looks closely at the screen, face changing from confusion to shock. “wait, is that-“ he adds “uh… yeah, i think so” jaemin places the computer back on the small table, paying more attention to the clip they found just a minute ago.

you’re barely noticeable, the camera shows you laying on the bed, wrists tied up and gagged, drool dripping around the plastic ball. your legs are spread at your maximum; showing your used and bruised ass to the lens, black tape covering your cunt, making your asshole the only thing on display. the only sound they could hear was your whining and moaning. jaemin and haechan stare at your trembling figure, unable to keep their eyes away.

“i’m sorry baby, but bad girls don’t deserve to be properly fucked don’t they” they could hear jeno talk behind the camera, voice low and far from his usual tone. “seeing you flirt with my friends, i cant let that happen now can’t i?” you shook your head, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. he gets closer to you, angling the camera to get a closer look at your hole. you whine as you feel his index and middle fingers on your taped cunt, eyes begging for him to fuck you.

“hey sorry that took so long it was important — what the fuck are you guys watching??” renjun interrupts, looking at the screen.

“just—just sit down man.” haechan mutters. “i can’t let you horny fucks watch some por-“

“woah.” he stops.

renjun feels guilty for watching, but he’s fixed on the way your body is trembling in excitement, by the way your pretty face is covered in spit and dried tears, or by the way you’re whining softly, eyes fixed on jeno, being so obedient, despite the obscene scene the tape is showing him.

he’s never imagined or thought of you this way, but when he feels his pants tightening, he had to watch more.

they want to see you vulnerable.

jeno holds the back of your thighs, making you stop wriggling underneath him. “now won’t you be a good girl and take what i give you?” you nod frantically, body shaking. “good girl.” he gives you a kiss on your nose, then lines himself up to your rim.

your muffled moans and cries are the only thing heard in the room. the three boys are mesmerized by your expressions, haechan’s slowly pulling his underwear down as he strokes his own cock. “this is wrong, we—can you please put your dick away?” jaemin asks. “if he knows we’ve watched this it’s over.” he continues, facing the urge to join haechan in his pleasuring session.

you get dizzy as you feel jeno filling you up so nicely, never getting used to how big he is. you look at him with half opened eyes, tears slowly falling down your eyes, wrists hurting from the restraints.

“man, look at how well she takes his dick.” haechan confesses, his hand stroking his tip, groaning at the sight of you being ruined.

jeno grabs your ass, making him reach deeper inside you, each rough thrusts make you beg, trying to reach for his arms despite your restraints. your head falls back on the pillows, feeling yourself losing it more and more. he taps your cheek a few times before removing the ball from your mouth, strings of saliva connected from your lips to the plastic. “what a messy baby, am i making you feel good?” he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. the boys groan at your fucked up state, they have never heard a better sound other than your moans and begging.

“u-uh huh… more… pleasepleaseplease.” you mumble. you feel him everywhere. his weight on you, his hands on your thighs, forcing your legs open, his stare, his cock splitting your ass open. you feel like passing out. “more?” he scoffs. “me fucking your tight little ass isn’t enough? you’re just a greedy whore, always want to be stuffed full of cock is that it?” you nod over and over again, making him chuckle. you feel out of it, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you want more, you’re desperate for a release, but you know jeno won’t give you what you want so easily, besides, you broke his rules, right?

the boys wondered how it would feel to be inside you, it’s not like they haven’t thought of it, maybe except renjun, who was always so respectful of you and your relationship. at the back of his head, he still felt bad for watching, but today, his perspective of you changed, you were nothing but a filthy slut, who’d give any of her holes, just for the sake of pleasure.

you gasp when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach, lightheaded from the previous actions of your boyfriend. “ass up.” is all he says as you obey, though struggling to keep your knees still, your legs shaking.

you feel jeno’s tip kiss your rim, as an indication that you’re not quite done being used yet. he positions the camera closer to your entrance as he slowly gets fully inside you, making you both sigh.

haechan is a mess, he’s getting closer to his release, while renjun tries to look away from the screen, forcing himself up to get water, he sighs uncomfortably at his tight shorts.

jaemin on the other hand, is so focused on you that he cums in his hand without realizing it.

“i have a big load for you angel, you’re gonna take all i give you right?” his thrusts get sloppier, he whines more and more feeling your tight hole milking him. “inside please.” is all that was needed before you feel his warm load inside your ass, crying into the pillow at the sensation.

the three boys groan at the sight of your abused hole, tape peeling off of your cunt, legs giving up making you almost fall before jeno picks your legs up, taking the camera to show your leaking hole. tsk.

“what an ungrateful little slut.” the name makes you look back at him, tears falling on your swollen face, “i’m sorry sir—” your fingers scoops the cum off your hole, bringing them to your mouth before releasing them with a slight ‘pop’. “is that better?” he slaps your ass making you yelp.

“good girl.”

“you’re gross haech, better hurry up before they come back and see your pervert ass on his computer.” renjun tells him, watching haechan run off to the bathroom, jeans barely on his legs.

jaemin wakes up from his daydream to his sticky hand, shaking his head before quickly pulling his pants off and head to his dorm.

renjun stares at the wall, feeling more guilty than ever, with a raging boner that he has yet to touch, when suddenly the door unlocks.

“shit.”

a/n: dialogue is so hard wtf…. part 2?

#jeno lee #jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #lee jeno #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct smut #nct #1k🎖️

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

Note

Any version of Soap in any position of power would be soooo disgusting, calling IT Security reader at all times of the day and telling her that the speaker on his computer doesn’t work, while he’s clearly streaming some porno in the background 😭😭😭

You get it Lumi, he's a sick freak :) You also sent this while I happen to be working through 1k requests so bonus short for you <3

Back Chat

Words: 1k

CWs: non-con groping, just all around gross awful Soap

Sergeant John MacTavish was the reason you had poured over your contract for any get out clause that didn't cost you a fortune. You came up with nothing. The military had paid for a high end training course for you on the provision that if you left the role within 2 years then you had to pay every penny back.

Plus this job paid well and the benefits were great. You didn't even mind having gruff military personnel seeing fit to give you a bollocking over the phone because you would be following procedure whether they liked it or not and they could file a damn ticket if they wanted their issue looked at. Generally they were an OK bunch at heart, but rough around the edges and used to recruits eager to please them. When they realised your lack of any rank also excused you from being ordered around by anyone but your actual boss they usually mellowed out.

Of course you had made the mistake of chewing out one such gruff man after he called in a temper demanding that his laptop be fixed as a priority. Not even his work laptop, no he wanted his personal laptop fixed.

“Look MacTavish was it?”

“Sergeant MacTavish tae you.”

“No it isn't. I am not one of your soldiers. I work in IT for the military, your laptop is not military property so I'm not touching it. Use your big boy Sergeant wage and buy a new one.”

“Listen here ye wee bitch-”

You hung up on him and got on with your day right up until he physically showed up at your office on base. You handled IT for multiple bases, you had not considered that the person you had chewed out would actually work on this one. Oops.

He was a big motherfucker as well. Handsome. Crazy scary dog energy. Definitely not your usual soldier with his lack of uniform (unless jeans and a t-shirt that was so tight he was liable to tear out of it was uniform these days) and out of regulation haircut. You scrambled to try and stand but he was already looming over you in your chair, leaving you no space to do so as he settled his hands on the armrests and leaned over you to get into your face.

“I'll need tae settle for you then hen. Better make it good.”

“Excuse me?”

“The lassie on my laptop begs tae get it up the arse. Is a good girl for a thick cock pounding her tight cunt. Even when she's fucked oot her nut and ruined she still gags around a man down her throat and swallows like a proper bitch.”

You were flooded with fear and arousal. Nobody had ever spoken to you like that and you weren't entirely sure he was joking. He wouldn't actually do anything to you right? He was just being a dick because he wanted his laptop fixed. Just trying to intimidate you.

“And I bet she gets paid a lot more than me MacTavish, back off.”

Oh no. There was a feral gleam in his eye and a rabid grin that showed those sharp incisors. He clearly relished your response.

“Then I'll need to buy ye with, what was it? Right. My big boy Sergeant wage.”

He leaned in close and took a deep breath. Christ he was sniffing your currently greasy and messy hair. You hadn't showered in like 2 days, you were fucking IT, it wasn't like people usually came to physically see you in your little den.

“...I'll fix your fucking laptop oh my God just bring it by.”

“Atta girl” he all but panted into your ear before tugging at the lobe with his teeth and then fully tounging at your ear hole.

The sensation was truly the most awful thing you had ever felt. Your skin crawled and your body shivered uncomfortably as you tried to push him away from you. He chuckled and you choked on your own saliva as he firmly smacked your pussy before pulling away.

“I'll bring it right doon.”

You were left completely gobsmacked in your little office, your body hopped up on adrenaline and your cunt throbbing from the spank it had gotten and from the sick part of your mind that found the whole thing depraved and disgusting but sort of titillating.

When he brought the laptop back he hovered behind you while you worked on it, making you sweat. It was an easy enough fix and you sighed in relief and carefully avoided eye contact when you told him it was fixed.

“Ye’ll check it over, cannae be sending me away with a half done job.”

“You can see that it's working.”

He leant over, arms surrounding you so he could scroll over to open a video file. It was of a woman being railed hard from behind, drooling into the pillow and babbling for more. The wet squelch was disgusting, the man spitting down on her and smacking her already red ass.

“Speakers are fucked.”

You squirmed in your seat.

“I can hear it just fine.”

“Aye? What are ye hearing then?”

You remained silent, eyes fixed on the wall instead of on the screen. At least you were silent until he drew a yelp from you by groping one of your tits.

“Told ye, if ye cannae prove that it's fixed I'll need to settle for you. Bit shorter, softer and dirtier than my lassie mind, so got tae give it yer full effort.”

“I-It's working!”

“Prove it, what ye hearing?”

He made you replicate the whole script from each broken moan to the begging to the degrading. He was only satisfied when the whole video had run its course, by which time he had a hand on either tit, rough with how he groped and tugged.

“See now? Wisnae so hard to follow a Sergeant's orders was it?”

“No” you mumbled, crying out when he gripped your nipples through your shirt and twisted. “No Sergeant!”

He let go then, closing the lid of the laptop and standing with it to leave.

“Got an LT having trouble with his phone, he's naw as friendly as me though so best limit the back chat soldier.”

#mhairiwrites #cod #soap x reader

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chaoticloving · 1 year

Text

the making of stomper

harry styles x reader masterlist

summery: harry has his wife make the feature of his new music video

a/n: reader is described as an engineer and the "flashbacks" are italicized

“Satellite was inspired by my love of Wall-e.” Harry explained. “I love the little guy, looking around in search for his point of life—so human, really.”

“I need your skills.” Harry ambiguously stated, rushing into the bedroom and meeting Y/n who was relaxing on the bed on her laptop.

"Come again?" Y/n laughed, confused by her husbands question and vaguely raunchy implications.

Harry climbs on the bed, sitting between his wife's legs on his sock-clad feet, yes, the pair with holes in them. "I have an idea and I need your help building it."

Harry gave a sweet smile, the face he poses whenever he wants Y/n to build something for him, first it was a new camera, fixing up a new engine for an old car harry had his eyes on, and any other little thing Harry wanted. Y/n never minded of course, she enjoys creating new things and Harry was always there to help by any means he could. She enjoyed working on other things besides work--which at her level typically involved designing, no actual building.

"Intriguing , what is it?"

"Wall-e."

"Wall-e?"

"Wall-e."

"Huh." Y/n thought for a moment, before switching tabs on her laptop and opening up a new design file, labeling it "wall-e". "What's your vision."

"It's to go with Satellite and it would feature a little robot roomba thing thats looking for the meaning of life. It would walk or roll and move it's little face around." Harry summarized, stopping before he rambles too long, and make a list too extravagant.

“I’m down, I just need some time to think about what I’ll need and the process.” Y/n decided.

“Stomper was actually the 6th Stomper.” Harry thought back. “The first couldn’t move its head and only go very slowly on it’s little wheels. Two through four short-circuited. Five got injured by our cat. But six—he was a trooper.”

“Alright, we rolling?” Y/n spoke over to Harry, doing some final looks on the remote and Stomper.

“Yup! Ready for testing!” This was always Harry’s favorite part, despite it not being Y/n’s because she was always very thorough and was always waiting for a flaw with her creation. Harry, ever the optimist, was excited to see the little creature come to life.

“Okay, lemme just turn him on.” It was definitely a he this one, something in Y/n was just telling her it was a boy—as boyish a robot could be. But maybe she just thought the robot would act like Harry and all of his boyish charm.

Stomper grew to life, it’s “eyes” producing a subtle glow.

“Alright and moving forward—“ He moved, a little quicker then the others before him, which Y/n surprised and confused about. “Turning around…” The little robot did just that.

“It works?!” Harry shouted, letting the camera out of focus. He ran up to Y/n and hugged her tight, kissing her wherever his mouth could reach.

“Harry we got to give it more time, he might explode or something-“

“It’s perfect.” Harry chided, ignoring any concern his wife had for the little robot.

“I think Stomper was a subliminal message of some sort—“ Harry told the camera. He held on tight to the small child in this lap, who was trying to grab his ear and hair. “Y/n didn’t know she was pregnant yet. Only about a week after the music video went up Y/n had this epiphany that she didn’t have her period for the past two months—and the rest was history.”

Harry looked down at the little boy in his arms, brown hair showing through and a nose like his daddy’s. His eyes and lips through, were a copy and paste from his Mama.

“I joked that we should name him stomper--Y/n did not like that joke at all—so we settled on something else that will forever remain a mystery for you lot, or until I end up rambling uncontrollably.”

Harry, ever the scared Papa Bear, wouldn’t let anyone get a picture of any sort of the small boy. During the video, the boy was wearing a hat covering his face while Harry’s large hand would cover from the neck up. The only way you could know that Harry’s son was there was from the little grabby hands that kept making an appearance.

“But it’s getting close to this bubs nap time, so thank you for all the love.” Harry turned the camera off, smiling as he know the fans would love the one year special treat.

Harry went upstairs and met with his lovely wife taking a nap in their shared bed. His little boy yawned, causing Harry to yawn, so he knew it was family nap time.

“How’d it go?” Y/n whispered.

“Good.” Harry said, moving around so he could big spoon his son and wife. “Bubs was the star.”

“He takes after you.”

Harry smiled at the comment, but knew the opposite to be true. His little baby was showing signs of intelligence that could only be traced to his wife. “With any luck he’ll turn out just like his mama.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #husband!harry styles #husband!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x fem!reader #husband!harry x reader #dad!harry #dadrry #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles satellite

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leah-lover · 2 months

Text

Away. Mapi x Ingrid x reader.

Smut 18+.

Ingrid is frustrated after a game and she is away on international duty so her girlfriends fix her frustration via face time.

You hated international break because it meant your girls were away from you. With Ingrid having to travel back to Norway, you back to England, and mapi staying in Spain, time zones were tricky so you finding get too talk much. However, this camp international break was different. You stayed behind as a precaution not to Webb your injury. But Ingrid still left, and without her the house seemed empty.

Ever since joining the triad, intimacy was always in tree. Not that any one of you would mind but you n just looked for being together all the time whether you wanted to cuddle, shower, or sex you did all of it together.

With Ingrid leaving for Norway, the desire to have sex went with her.

In the first well off her home mapi and you feel on a routine of rehab, eating together, and cuddling until you fell asleep. You would occasionally face time Ingrid when ever she had time.

Her match day was no different, you went on your usual routine and am house before kick off you found yourself laying on the couch Infront of the TV mapi with mapi laying on your chest.

The match was event full. You and most people that Norway would struggle without their st at strickers but they produced every one wrong with a 4 bill victory. The thing that went wrong in the game was Ingrid’s yellow.

After the game you kissed mapi to celebrate, sent Ingrid a voice mail telling how proud you were of her and how much you both loved her so much, and headed

to your bedroom not thinking Ingrid would have time to respond.

Suddenly, while you were both asleep ,with mapi spooning you for a change, the phone rang at 3AM. Dazzed with sleep you didn't see who was calling you just picked up.

“Hello who us with me.” You say, your voice raspy with sleep and your accent thinker than usual.

“ Hey elskling.” Said a voice you now recognize as Ingrid. Mapi is now awake too, she was as confused as you were.

You put your girlfriend on speaker and say.

“ I didnt think you would call baby. I thought you would be too tired.” You say to her worry in your voice.

“I can't sleep. I just. I miss you. I just want to come home and be worth my girls.” She responds.

“ Carino, please tell us what's up.” Says mapi.

“ It's that s tips yellow card. Plus I don't thino I played as well as I hoped. And I miss you. I miss your smell,the taste of your lips, and your comfort. If I was home I wouldn't be as frustrated.” She says, clearly desperate.

“ Let us face time you from the lap top Ninä.” Says mapi.

You then get up, turn on the lights, and ask your girlfriend. “ what's on your mind ?”

“You will see in a minute.”

After reconnecting with Ingrid you hear mapi say “ baby I need you to follow every word is say. I want you to get comfortable on the bed while we can still see you.” She gently orders the woman. Ingrid does as she was told and Lays down on the bed.

“ Baby we watched the whole game, we think you did spectacularly today. We are so proud of you.” You say.

“Amor, we wish we were there to show you how proud we are of you. Because you deserve it.” Added mapi.

Ingrid’s love language was words of affirmation so saying all those things to her would turn her into a pile of mush.

“Baby I need you to get naked for me.” Says mapi. Her demand made your head turn. “ We can't touch you and give you your reward doesn't mean you can't touch yourself “ she added. You were beyond shocked at mapi's request and the speed at which she got naked in front of her laptop.

“ You are so fucking beautiful my love.” You say at the sight of her beautiful body.

You then feel mapi's hand coax your head towards her and locks her lips with yours. Mapi was a rough kisser but this time she wanted to show off so her kisses were a little bit performative.

Ingrid remained quiet as you made out with mapi, her jaw and eyes wide open.

“ You like the show mi amor?” Asked mapi.

“I bet you are so wet right now. “ She added

Ingrid was indeed wet but she wasn't the only one. Mapi then motioned for you to take off your shorts. “ I need you to lay down, open your legs and do as I say mi amor.” She says.

“See now or baby over here is so wet.”she says as she puts her hand near your core which earns her a small moan.

“ I want you to touch yourself for me Ingrid while I touch you baby over here.” She adds, talking over you.

She then stays to touch your clit slowly rubbing circles. Your core hasn't had any attention in a whole week so as soon as mapi touched you, you stayed moaning.

As a response to Ingrid touching herself, you hear her small quiet moans through the speaker which drives you crazier than mapi's hands.

“ That's it baby. Touch yourself for me. Just like that. Imagine it was me. Imagine it were my hands on your clit.”says mapi

Her words,her touch,and Ingrid's moans were about to drive you over the edge.

“ Can I come please.?,” you ask mapi.

“I am not the one who you get permission from Carino.” She responds

“Ingrid baby please can I come.” you plead.

“Hold on elskling, let's come together.” She responds.

It only took you a couple of minutes to come together.

“That was so good my loves.” Says Ingrid.

You kiss mapi before she responds to Ingrid.

“Anytime you feel anything we are here for you.”

“ We love you so much baby.”

You end the phone call and return to mapi.

“ I think someone needs to have a favor returned.” You say to her.

#mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader #mapi x ingrid x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso smut #woso request

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gurugirl · 3 months

Text

coming soon to tumblr | handyman!harry

821 word teaser - 10k+ one shot already posted on Patreon.

One shot summary: When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for. Based on this request.

. . .

Everything flowed so nicely with Harry. He was easy to talk to and you trusted that he knew what he was doing. And it didn’t hurt that his voice was soothing and deep and slow. You could listen to him talk about solid hardwood versus engineered hardwood all day long if he let you.

“Well, I’ll be heading out now I guess. Be back first thing in the morning and start on this porch.”

You walked him to his big truck and shook his hand again, thanking him for taking the job and feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional at everything.

Overwhelmed because Harry was so genuinely kind and you knew immediately you could trust him completely. Which just added to his charm and sex appeal. You really tried to push down the fact that he was so stunningly attractive because that wasn’t going to do you any good. And even though Mr. George told you he was single, you couldn’t imagine that was true. Someone as yummy-looking and kind-hearted as Harry? There was no way he wasn’t at least seeing someone.

But you were also emotional because you were finally going to get to see your aunt Gayla’s house restored to its original glory. It was going to be a real labor of love but it felt so good to be doing it. You had never felt so sure you were on the right path in life until that day. Until Harry arrived with his big truck and assured you that you’d get everything you wanted and that it would end up being even better than before.

And for the first time since you moved into that old house, you sat down and began to write. You’d gotten nearly ten thousand words written and were awake well into the wee hours of the morning typing away with the sudden inspiration you’d gotten. You fell asleep with your laptop next to you when you couldn’t hold your eyes open any longer.

You were woken to the sound of pounding and clanking and creaking which had you startled as you sat up in your bed and looked around your bedroom. The sun filled the space with light and you picked up your cellphone to note the time and saw a missed call from Harry.

Wrapping your robe around yourself you ran down the stairs all frazzled and rushed and burst onto the front porch, tripping over a stack of fresh boards and landing on your knees and palms like an idiot.

“Hey… hey…” you heard Harry’s deep voice from behind you as he slid his hands under your arms to help you up, “You okay?”

“Oh my god…” you croaked out the first words of the day from your throat, “I just woke up and realized you were here and… Sorry!”

He turned you to face him and looked down over your knees and lifted your palms upward to inspect, “Let’s get you cleaned up. Took quite the spill there. Sorry, I shouldn’t have stacked those boards right there.”

You felt your heart calm as he led you into your kitchen. He was so gentle with you, which for some reason you hadn’t expected. You knew he was kind but this seemed very much outside of the scope of his job description, “No, it’s fine! It’s me. I’d probably trip over the boards no matter where you had them stacked. I’m a bit of a nervous nelly. And when I woke up I just… I was startled. Fell asleep late and didn’t set an alarm…”

Harry grinned at you as you ran your faucet and put your hands under it, “It’s fine. No need to rush or get all riled up. I got here a bit early and when you didn’t answer I just figured I’d start on the porch. Think I’ll replace your doorbell as well. It’s not working either.”

You dried your hands and smiled at Harry, “I’ll get you a key before you leave today. In case I’m not here or I’m sleeping again. Sorry… I just had this burst of inspiration last night and typed until I passed out. It’s…”

“You’re fine,” you watched his eyes drop down to your torso and then bounce back up quickly to your face.

When you looked down at yourself you realized your robe was twisted and while all your bits were covered, they were barely covered.

“Jesus fucking Christ… I’m sorry, Harry. I’m a mess…” you pulled the material into place and adjusted the robe.

Harry put his hands at the tops of your arms, “Hey… you’re fine. Take a breath. It’s a beautiful morning and the birds are singing, and just look at this view…” he motioned toward your window where you could see trees and lush green grass stretch along the front of the house, “Now… Do you have some alcohol to clean up the cuts on your knees?”

. . .

If you'd like to have early access content (like this) and exclusive Patreon-only posts please consider joining my Patreon!

xoxo

General tag list: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @bananabk9756 @gotdrxnkonu @freedomfireflies @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

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mingtinys · 2 months

Text

" have you eaten today ? "

pairing : boo seungkwan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : mentions of food , language (seungkwan calls the reader "dumbass" lovingly)

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : words cannot describe the love i have for boo seungkwan , if my future partner isn't boo seungkwan himself i don't WANT them .

You'd like to think after two years, you've grown used to Seungkwan's disapproving glare. But jeez, if he isn't laying it on thick tonight. You're pretty sure he's actually burned two dime-sized holes through your laptop with the way he glowering from his spot across from you.

"Boo..." You draw out his name in a warning, not bothering to look up or cease typing. "You're gonna strain your corneas if you don't quit it."

"Your fingers are gonna fall off if you don't quit it." He mocks.

You spare a full three seconds to look up from your computer just to shoot him a look that says really? Now you're just being immature.

"I told you when you insisted on coming over I wouldn't be able to entertain you. This project is due in two days and I need to focus." You huff out.

It's true, you literally told him three times over on the phone he was welcome at your place, but that he'd have to be quiet and let you work. Which, in hindsight, you really should have known better considering it's Seungkwan, but you felt bad having already blown off your boyfriend three times this week due to this project. And judging from his tone when he called, he was two seconds from marching over and kicking down your door anyway.

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. "This isn't about being entertained—" you highly doubt that "—it's about you being a dumbass and overworking yourself."

You roll your eyes, but that only seems to fuel his persistence. "It's been hours since I got here and you've yet to take a break."

"I will in a bit, just let me finish this."

Seungkwan doesn't get the chance to retort. The doorbell rings with what you assume is the take-out he called in for himself a little over thirty minutes ago. You'd originally told him you didn't want anything, shooing him to quiet down when he tried to ask. But now, you're starting to regret that. Especially when the smell of his food wafts into the room moments after the door shuts.

He sits back down across from you, opening the containers and making quick work of digging in. The scent of it hits your nose tenfold, and at that, your stomach growls. Loud enough for Seungkwan's head to pop up and his eyes to narrow. Traitor, you curse at your stomach.

Seungkwan tilts his head and you're too scared to meet his gaze for fear of being scolded.

"Have you eaten today?" He asks, with a soft tone and unexpected seriousness. You just shrug, not wanting to let go of your pride.

"I'm fine."

He scoffs and immediately starts using the container's lid to dish out a heaping portion. All the while muttering to himself about you being difficult and how you're going to give him at least twelve new grey hairs.

"Here, take half." He shoves the lid, which definitely has more than half piled onto it, towards you.

When you just blankly stare at it, he sighs and picks up a piece with his chopsticks. He extends his arm as far as it can go until the item, drenched in a sweet-smelling sauce, is centimeters from your lips. "Eat." He instructs. So you do, admitting defeat by finally pushing your computer to the side and exchanging it for the plate Seungkwan fixed you.

"I swear, what would you do without me." He teases, beaming with pride.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

#boo seungkwan #seungkwan #boo seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x you #seungkwan x you #boo seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fluff #boo seungkwan imagine #seungkwan imagines #boo seungkwan fanfic #seungkwan fanfic #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios

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hxyleswritesthings · 1 year

Text

Dynamight's Omega

Katsuki's Omega is usually known for being really cheery and polite to anyone she meets (to the point that they question how she could even put up with the grump himself). One day, everyone at the agency learns that the girl herself has quite the temper and could get very territorial over her Alpha.

Author's note: I've never written a/b/o so go easy on me. I've had this idea for a while and finally had the time to put it into words. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more of these two :) (also: this was edited on my phone, so if anything looks wonky or like it's meant to be cut out, it probably is. I'll fix it later lmao)

Alpha!Katsuki who's mated to the sweetest little omega. Most people question how someone so soft spoken could be compatible with the blonde. Everyone knows Bakugou Katsuki comes with a very harsh demeanor. Pair that with his large frame and he is quite the force to be reckoned with. He's a far cry from being anything like his best friend Alpha!Eijirou, who often forces Bakugou to wear scent blockers at their shared agency so he doesn't stink out the whole place and scare the omegas that work for them.

The first time Bakugou’s omega ever visited the office, she was bringing him the lunch he forgot at home. She was all nervous smiles in a short sundress as she walked up to the front desk and asked to be pointed in the direction of the two hero's offices. No one working at the agency had thought anything of it at first. Everyone knew the rumors that Red Riot had a partner, and the large mating mark on her neck had them assuming she was here go see him. It wasn't until the two pro heros themselves stepped out of a meeting room and into her path that the employees realized they were very, very wrong.

The Omega's eyes lit up upon seeing the two alphas, her scent just a bit more potent now with excitement. “Hey, Kiri!” She greets the redhead with a wave before simply stepping past him to get to Bakugou.

“Omega,” The blonde’s deep voice greets, vermillion eyes watching the girl with only the kind of intensity Bakugou Katsuki could emit.

The girl grins, meeting his gaze and dipping her head for a moment in greeting. “Hi, alpha.” She doesn't shy away from his gaze as he continues to stare her down. There's a low rumble in his chest as he takes in her appearance, chest swelling with pride at his girl coming to visit him with the mark he left on display for everyone to see. She holds up the bento in her hands after a few moments, blushing some now as she becomes aware of all the eyes on them. “You forgot your lunch,” she says in way of explanation, handing it over to him. Katsuki doesn't miss the way she starts bouncing nervously, thanking her with a kiss to her temple and guiding her to his office with a hand on her lower back, her soft voice carrying down the hallway as she fills him in on her day so far.

No one says anything for a beat before excited chatter starts up and Kiri finds himself chuckling, simply announcing to come find him should anyone need anything before stalking off to his own office.

Dynamight usually kept his personal life private, so it came as a pleasant surprise when the girl kept showing up after that first visit. They learned that after she mated to Bakugou, he urged her to quit her part time job and focus on school. Her goal was to one day be a successful writer and she was always sharing her ideas with her friends. Sometimes she would bring in cookies she had made for everyone, and she was often seen stopping by to drop off coffee for the two pro heroes. Occasionally, on those days, Bakugou would be seen walking her out after a spell, her face flushed and his hair evidently out of place. More often than not, however, she brings her laptop and headphones and settles herself in Katsuki’s office to get work done. He's even come back from patrol to her napping on his couch unannounced. The next day, Pro Hero Dynamight was seen walking into his agency with blankets and a pillow in tow to make the space more comfortable for his girl. He made sure to scent everything thoroughly and reminded her constantly that his office was always open should she need it, no matter the circumstances. Days like that presented a new side to the grumpy alpha. Beneath the hard exterior and seemingly permanent scowl he was actually a lovesick fool. He looked at his girl like she put the stars in the sky herself and he was willing to do anything and everything for her, consequences be damned.

One day the omega trudges into the office, dressed down in sweats for the day. The second she walks through the door, it's evident she’s in a horrible mood. The last week had been really stressful and it was showing in the way her hair was messily thrown up and her eyes were bloodshot from crying. She stalked right past everyone in the office, having a one track mind towards the comfort of her alpha. She knew Katsuki didn't have patrol and would just be hanging around the office for the day. She figured they could order food and she could just spend a little time with him while he worked.

What she did not expect, however, was to find Katsuki, /her/ alpha, walking out of a meeting room with another woman who was laughing at something he said, her hand reaching up towards his arm. Dynamight’s omega was moving before she could think, her instincts completely kicking in as she lost rational thought. Before she realized it was happening, she had the poor woman pinned to the closest wall with an arm, lips pulled back in a snarl to show her omegan fangs.

There's a collective gasp that runs throughout the office, everyone shocked to see this kind of behavior from her. Not once had she ever indicated that she could be anything but polite. The commotion even had Red Riot peeking out of his office. Bakugou finds himself bristling at the smell of the other alpha, resisting the urge to growl at anyone who was making a spectacle out of the situation. He pushes those feelings away, taking a deep breath before calling her name. He sucks his teeth when he doesn't receive a response from her, realizing she has lost herself to her more primal instincts.

“Omega.” His voice is a bit deeper than usual with the command, fully stepping into his role as her alpha, his skin itching with the need to get her to the safety of his office. The word reaches her ears and it takes a few painstakingly slow seconds before she's submitting, fighting the urge to let out a whimper when she comes to and finally steps away. Despite being an Omega, what most people don't know, is that his girl has quite the stubborn personality and she's never been one to back down easily. It's one of the first things that had him chasing after her after they first met. He wanted an equal in his relationship - someone who was going to bite back and level with him when needed.

“If I ever catch you so much as look at-”

“Omega.” He doesn't raise his voice but ever so slightly, the deep tone telling her it's time to back off for good. Katsuki is close to snatching her up himself to carry her away before she finally shoves last his large frame and stomps into his office. He waits to hear the click of door closing before he's rushing out apologies to the poor woman and reassuring her nothing like that will ever happen again.

When he's done walking the woman out, he heads back to his office to find his sweet little omega sitting down on his couch with blankets wrapped snuggly around her shoulders and big fat tears streaming down her face. She blabbers out apologies the second she sees him, pouting. His expression softens as he takes in the sight of her and it's in that moment that he decides they can talk about her little moment another day. He knew she was having a bad week, but he had no clue it would ever turn into something like this, and his alpha is all but screaming at him to care for his mate. In a matter of seconds, he has her pulled into his lap, holding her securely to his rumbling chest in an effort to soothe her.

It was that day that everyone in the agency learned just why the Omega was with someone as harsh as Dynamight. It was clear that despite her usually bubbly personality, the girl had the kind of fire in her veins that could only rival that of her own alpha.

#bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #mha smut #alpha bakugou #alpha bakugo katsuki #alpha katsuki #a/b/o verse #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #alpha kirishima #alpha bakugou katsuki

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writingwithciara · 4 months

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Love Or Something Like It ~Quinn Hughes~

summary: quinn's girlfriend sucks but y/n's boyfriend is the best

word count: 3.2k

pairing: quinn hughes x roommate!reader, brief elias pettersson x reader

notes: another quinn x roommate fic. not set in the same universe as the last one. italics are the past. was supposed to post this on valentines day but did not have access to my laptop

masterlist

quinn and y/n were best friends. had been since they were younger. after she finished her schooling at the university of michigan, she followed quinn to vancouver, per his request.

he needed her nearby and somehow, knowing his best friend was there, made him play so much better.

although they hadn't seen each other in person for months, everything easily went back to normal. it was as if the distance was never a problem.

things were easy, until they weren't.

quinn had gotten himself a girlfriend the third month y/n had been living with him. rebecca was only nice to y/n when they were with other people but when they were alone, she would get angry and threaten y/n with anything she could think of.

it was very clear she was jealous. but why did she have to be? y/n wasn't as pretty as rebecca, a fact that she pointed out whenever they were alone, and she didn't want to be with quinn. she had her own boyfriend back in michigan. one she loved with her whole heart, despite all the red flags he gave off.

it hurt quinn to think that y/n wasn't being treated the way she deserved. he knew he had to do something to fix it. and since valentines day was coming up, he thought it'd be perfect to set y/n up on a blind date & rebecca agreed, offering up tons of suggestions. but quinn already had the perfect person in mind.

so, on valentine's day of 2023, y/n was sitting in a fancy restaurant with quinn and rebecca while they waited for the mystery man to show up.

"hey. sorry i'm late."

y/n looked up when she heard the voice. she had heard it many times before at canucks events. elias pettersson stood before her. his bright blue eyes staring back at her with a smile that didn't seem to want to leave his face.

"no worries." y/n smiled up at him as he took the seat across from her. she may have had a boyfriend but in the moment, her only though was how good elias looked tonight.

as they ate, y/n & elias got lost in their own little world. quinn tried not to notice it but the more she laughed, the more distracted quinn got. he didn't think he was jealous until later that night when rebecca brought it up.

"if you're so into her, why did you set her up with your teammate? better yet, why are you dating me?"

"becca, please can we not do this right now?"

"why not, quinn? it's the perfect time to address these feelings. i've been holding mine in since we met. every time you brought her up in conversations, it made me feel small. you're my boyfriend. you're supposed to love me, not her."

"my love for you is completely different than my love for her."

"so you admit that you love her?"

"of course i do. she's been my best friend since we were 8 years old. i've got nothing but love for her." quinn took a step closer to his girlfriend. "but i'm not in love with her. that's the difference here."

"are you trying to convince me or yourself?" rebecca grabbed her bag and walked to the door. "call me when you get it right, hughes."

and just like that, rebecca was gone.

quinn had tried multiple times to call her and tell her he only wanted to be with her, but only received her voicemail each time.

over the next few weeks, y/n spent more and more time with elias. she was almost never home anymore and quinn was alone 90% of the time. he would drive to practice alone and he would watch as y/n slowly transitioned herself from a hughes fan to a pettersson fan.

she started wearing elias' jersey instead of quinn's and it created an unfamiliar pain in his chest the more it became evident.

when y/n found out her boyfriend had cheated on her, she didn't run to quinn. she ran straight to elias instead, breaking quinn's heart.

he realized that the unfamiliar sting in his chest was jealousy. quinn didn't want to see y/n with anyone but himself but unfortunately for him, he was a little late to the realization.

one night while quinn was at home, y/n was over at elias' place. she came home with a big smile on her face that night & quinn knew why, but he asked anyway.

"what's got you so smiley tonight?"

"elias made me dinner and asked me to be his girlfriend."

and there was that stinging feeling right where it didn't need to be. only it was 10 times worse this time. he was hopelessly in love with her & had no idea how to deal with it.

it wasn't until the beginning of february 2024 that quinn had hope again.

he and y/n were washing the dishes together when she rubbed her eye with her forearm. some of the suds came off on her cheek and as quinn went to wipe them away, her breath hitched and her cheeks were turning red.

"here, let me get that for you." he wiped the suds away and smiled. "there, all gone."

"gee, thanks quinn." y/n flicked some water at him, causing the soap suds to go everywhere. the look in quinn's eyes was enough of a warning for her. she took off out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

"you've got nowhere to run now, y/n." quinn smirked evilly, moving closer to y/n until her back was pressed against the wall. y/n swallowed the lump in her throat before looking at his lips. this only caused quinn to lean down and whisper in her ear. "gotcha." he wiped the suds on her face and smiled. when he looked down at her, she was staring at his lips. "what's on your mind?" he teased.

"n-nothing." she quickly looked away and moved away from the wall. she headed back into the kitchen to finish the dishes. quinn took a moment by himself before joining her.

"so, valentines day is coming up in a few days. you and elias have anything huge planned?"

"he won't tell me." y/n washed the last plate and handed it to quinn. he dried it and put it in it's place before turning back to y/n.

"does he know you hate surprises?"

"i don't hate them, quinn." y/n shook her head.

"you don't like secrets and those are practically the same thing."

"i guess so." y/n turned to quinn. "but elias has been off lately. did anything happen at practice?"

"no. why?"

"i don't know why he's acting this way."

"what way?"

"dodgy? i think that's the word to describe it." y/n sighed. "he's not seeing someone else...is he?" the sadness in y/n's voice made quinn's heart break.

"no. of course not. elias is a good guy. you just gotta talk to him and see what's going on."

"i'll try." y/n walked to her bedroom but before she entered, she turned to quinn. "hey. are you still dating rebecca?"

"no. she, um, broke up with me. almost a year ago."

"good." she looked up at him and backtracked her comment. "i mean, not good as in it's good she broke up with you. i meant good as in it's good that she's gone. she was terrible."

"yeah she really was. and i'm sorry again for what she did and said to you."

"it's not your fault, quinn."

"it kind of is. if i hadn't been dating her to cover up the fact that i was jealous- nevermind." he caught himself before he revealed too much.

"jealous of what? you can't just leave the comment there. who were you jealous of?"

"nobody. just forget i said anything." quinn smiled at his roommate. "good night."

y/n stood in her doorway with a puzzled look on her face. why did every guy in her life have to keep a secret from her.

y/n shook her head and went into her own room. she called jack because he was the only she knew who wouldn't keep a secret from her.

"hey. what's up y/n?"

"jack, i need some information and i know you'll give it to me because you are the only one i know who never hides things from me."

"well, i can definitely give you information. but it also depends on what it is. i might not know what you're asking about."

"fair point. but it's about quinn and i know you know all about your brother."

"yeah i do. what's the information you need?"

"5 minutes ago, he said he was only dating rebecca because he was jealous but he wouldn't tell me why he was jealous or what he was jealous of."

"he's jealous of you and elias." jack responded with no hesitation, causing y/n to gasp a little louder than expected.

"but he was dating rebecca before i started dating elias. how could he be jealous?"

"maybe jealous wasn't the word he meant to use. he probably was trying to say he was only dating her because he was trying to get over how he felt about you." jack thought for a second. "or maybe he was jealous of you and that michigan douchebag you were dating when you moved to vancouver."

"that's a little more logical. but he doesn't love me, jack. and even if he did, it wouldn't matter. i'm dating elias and i love him. not quinn."

unbeknownst to y/n, quinn had come out of his room and had heard her say she didn't love him. the last few pieces of his heart shattered and he suddenly couldn't breath.

before he made any noise, he made his way back to his room, collapsing against the door. why did he have to love his best friend? his very not single best friend.

for the next 2 days, quinn would avoid y/n at all costs. he would wake up super early and leave the apartment before he saw her & he wouldn't even acknowledge her at practice or at games.

it was breaking her heart but it wasn't known why it was affecting her so badly.

on valentines day, elias had set up a romantic picnic for her in his backyard. she appreciated it but her mind was stuck on the way quinn was treating her lately. and elias wasn't blind or stupid. he could tell she was hurting.

"hey, love. are you alright?"

"i'm fine." y/n smiled and sipped her champagne. "why do you ask?"

"because i know you're not fine. i can see the far away look you have in your eye. you're deep in thought about something and i can tell it's hurting you. and i love you so please tell me what's going on with you. i just want to make you feel better."

"quinn has been my best friend forever but this past year alone, i've been feeling him pulling away and i don't know why." she sighed. "do you think he's tired of having me in his life?"

"what? no that's impossible. who could get tired of having you in their life? and quinn is the very last person who would want to do that to you. he cares about you, a lot."

"i know that's how it's supposed to feel but lately, things have been different. if he cared about me at all, he wouldn't be avoiding me whenever he had the opportunity to do it."

it was elias' turn to sigh. "it's because he's finally realizing he's in love with you. he has been for a while."

"no he hasn't. why does everyone keep saying that?"

"because it's true." elias took his girlfriends hand and smiled. "and i don't blame him. you make everyone fall in love with you like it's the easiest thing to do. and you don't even know the effect you have on us. you should've heard the way quinn talked about you the night he asked me to take you out on that date for valentines day. i already knew you and i had already said yes but he kept saying all these really nice things about you. things a best friend wouldn't say. i'm telling you, y/n. quinn is in love with you." elias sighed. "and i think you love him too."

"well, of course i do. he's my best friend." y/n smiled. "but that doesn't matter. i love you, elias. and that should be what matters here."

"i love you enough to know that being with quinn is what you need." by now, it was obvious they both had tears in their eyes.

"why do you have to be the sweetest human being on this planet?"

"well, i am swedish." he smiled and held her close. "you're always going to be the best girlfriend i've ever had. and not just because you're the only one i've had. you're always going to hold the crown."

"so does this mean we're breaking up?"

"yes. but i still love you. always will." he held her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "now, let's get you home so you can tell quinn."

back at the apartment, quinn was trying to put something together to express every emotion he was feeling. after he had everything put together, there was a knock on the door.

he opened it and rebecca walked in. she looked around the apartment then back at quinn.

"well this isn't what i was expecting when i came here." she smiled. "but it's thoughtful, quinn. can't believe you went through all of this for me."

"actually, i-" he didn't have time to tell her it was for y/n before rebecca was pulling him in for a kiss.

"seriously?" y/n was standing in the doorway, watching the whole thing unfold. rebecca pulled away from quinn rather harshly at the sound of y/n's voice.

"y/n, this isn't-"

"i'm ruining a romantic moment. i'm sorry. i'll leave."

"you're right. you are and you should. bye." rebecca waved and y/n turned to walk back out.

"no, y/n wait!" quinn called out to her then turned to rebecca. "you need to go."

"what are you talking about?"

"this wasn't for you, rebecca. it would've been if you hadn't broken up with me a year ago. but it's not now."

"then who's it for?" rebecca searched quinn's face for a sign before her eyes landed on y/n, who was halfway out the door. "seriously? for her? thought you said you weren't in love with her."

"yeah well maybe i am now!"

y/n stopped in her tracks and turned back around.

"what?" y/n and rebecca responded.

"yeah. and maybe i always have been. it may have been a subconscious act and maybe that's why i always needed her to be close by. we can't help who we love and you can't be mad at y/n for the way that i feel. she did nothing wrong."

"she's done nothing but come between us since the moment we started dating, quinn."

"just leave, rebecca."

"no. i think i'll go. elias is waiting for me downstairs anyway." y/n turned around and walked out of he building. she got halfway down the street before it started raining.

a car sped past her and she knew it was rebecca just by the way the car aggressively sped through a puddle and nearly splashed her.

"oh tonight could not get any worse!" she shouted in frustration, kicking at a rock in her path.

"y/n, wait!" quinn shouted as he ran up to her.

"quinn, i'm not really in the mood to talk right now."

"then just listen to me. i'll do all the talking."

"fine. but can we go home? i'm freezing."

"of course." they both stayed silent as they headed back to their apartment. quinn wanted to say everything he was feeling but he wanted to wait until y/n was in a better mood. he knew she hated wet clothes so as soon as they walked through the door, he was rushing to his room to get her a tshirt and a pair of sweatpants. she accepted them without a word and went to the bathroom to change.

when she came out, the smell of hot chocolate filled her nostrils and it brought her a sense of joy. only quinn would be this thoughtful when she was mad at him.

she walked into the living room and sat down, silently taking the mug quinn offered her. she took a sip and smiled. that's when quinn knew he was doing good.

"okay. i'm ready to listen." y/n held the mug close and looked at him. his hair was still wet from the rain and she suddenly found herself wanting to run her fingers through the mess.

"okay. um, first off, rebecca and i are most definitely not together. just want to clarify that. and all of this," he glanced up at y/n & gestured around the apartment. "i set it all up for you. i know you're dating elias and you probably got something super romantic for valentines day but i wanted to do something for you too, even if it's only platonic between us. and im fine with that because you're my best friend and im sorry for rebecca and im sorry for ignoring you. it was a bad move on my part. but i heard you talking to jack the other night and you told him you didn't love me so i figured you'd want some space."

"elias and i broke up." y/n set her mug on the coffee table and stared down at her hands. "but it's okay. he's still a really good friend and that makes me happy."

"why'd you guys break up?"

"he could tell i was hurting and he kinda figured out how i feel about you."

"and how's that?"

"i didn't think i loved you until he pointed it out. but now it all makes sense. i was so eager to leave my life in michigan just to move out here to be closer to you & now i know why. i also know why it was weird seeing you with rebecca. it felt unnatural because deep down, i knew you and i were supposed to be together. we've been together our whole lives but never in a million years did i think there was a reason we were so attached to each other." y/n glanced over to find quinn staring at her already. "i do love you, quinn. and i know you love me too."

"i do. i definitely do." he smiled and moved closer. "i always will. and i'm willing to wait for you, however long it takes."

"you're perfect, quinn. i love you so much." she moved forward and threw her arms around him. he held her close and pulled her sideways onto his lap to make her more comfortable. "how about we go on a real date next saturday?"

"that sounds perfect." he looked at her and it took all of his willpower to not kiss her. she didn't care. her hands went to his cheeks and her lips attached to his.

it was a perfect moment for the both of them and neither of them cared about the world around them. as far as they were concerned, it was just the two of them for the rest of their lives.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @fearfam69691

#quinn hughes #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes x reader

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year

Text

Glutton for Punishment | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello, hello! I am back back back again. My life has been busy, y'all. School is kicking my ass. But this fic has been like 94% complete for like a month, and I finally got to finish it! yay!

wordcount: 8939

Warnings: angst, self harm, Bucky's trauma

Bucky collapsed onto the bed with a defeated huff. The mattress rippled under his weight and jostled the computer resting on your thighs. His chest rose and fell with another dejected sigh. His meetings with Fury never went well- but they weren’t always bad. Sometimes, things between them were cordial. Neutral. This was not one of those times. Bucky wanted to sink into the bed and never come out. He wanted to dissolve into the earth and disappear. The only thing anchoring him to reality was, as always, you.

“Hey, how’d it go, babe?” The comforting lilt of your voice floated through the air. Maybe drenching your words in overt positivity was too much, but it seemed necessary. Maybe if you could coat your voice in optimism, it would fix whatever plagued Bucky. But you knew it was useless to hope.

He didn’t answer. He just stared up at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. Coming home to you after a bad day or a shitty meeting was always his saving grace; being near you brought him peace. But he hated bringing the shame home with him.

“That bad, huh?” you ditched your laptop and laid next to him, propped up on one elbow. “What happened?”

Silence. He didn’t tear his eyes from the ceiling. Didn’t even blink. He just gazed upward- hopeless.

In the quiet, your fingers traced up and down his arm. You pressed kisses to his shoulder. He always had a way of shutting you out before allowing you in. It wasn’t personal; it was just his process. He opted to suffer without your help until the pain ate away at him. And when there was almost nothing left, he tore down the walls and welcomed the onslaught of comfort.

“He said it was my fault.” Bucky tried not to sound too pathetic. He knew you worried about him- a lot. Knew that his misery always hurt you. Seeing him in pain brought you nothing but heartache. But his efforts did nothing to hide the anguish in his voice.

You didn’t want to make him repeat the whole ordeal, to relive whatever messed up shit Fury said to him- but you needed context. Your words were soft, your voice gentle. “He said what was your fault, baby?” Bucky didn’t deserve more blame, more guilt. Though none of what he did was his fault, a lifetime of remorse rested heavy on his shoulders after his Winter Soldier days. You wondered how much unjust blame he could carry before it crushed him.

Bucky sighed, “All of it. Everything that went wrong on that last mission- the explosion, all those agents getting hurt-”

“What? You weren’t even the lead on that job- how is any of it your fault?” Heat rose in your chest. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Defending Bucky was your first instinct, your first priority. And while he accepted the shame with which Fury saddled him, you immediately turned to protection. To rage.

Bucky shrugged, “he said I’m the most experienced, so I should’ve known better than to let the lead take our team into the lab.”

“Wait- he said you should’ve argued with the mission lead?”

Bucky nodded.

“But didn’t he reprimand you last month for that exact reason?”

Again, he nodded.

“What the fuck?” Wrath sizzled beneath your skin. No one was allowed to treat Bucky this way- not even Fury. He contradicted himself and put his hypocrisy on full display, knowing Bucky hated himself too much to argue.

“I can-” Bucky’s voice came out hollow. Empty. Guilt had him in a chokehold. “I can see where he’s coming from…”

“No, don’t do that.” It wasn’t a reprimand- but a reminder. You laced your fingers with his, “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

He refused to make eye contact. “I mean, I could’ve spoken up-”

“You weren’t even with them, were you? Didn’t Fury tell you to hit the warehouse on your own?”

He nodded.

“So how is any of it your fault, Buck?” Fury sent Bucky into a tailspin with almost no effort. He knew exactly which buttons to push, which wires to pull. Fury made him his puppet, his scapegoat. He made Bucky work harder than anyone else and never delivered the praise he deserved. Instead, he met Bucky’s efforts with tongue-lashings and bitter insults. With blame.

“I don’t…” he shrugged. “I don’t know- but it feels like it’s on me. A lot of people got hurt and I am the most experienced. I should’ve said something-”

“But if you did, Fury would’ve called you into his office to tell you that you’re arrogant- like he did last time.” A deep breath filled your lungs and calmed your system; anger wouldn’t help Bucky. You needed to channel that energy into comforting him, easing his mind.

You softened your tone, “You know you can’t win with him, Buck.”

“Maybe because I tried to kill him… twice.” Finally, he looked at you, “And I can handle being called arrogant- those agents got hurt, doll. That’s different.”

“I know it’s different. I’m just saying… you weren’t involved. You did what you were told- what Fury told you to do.” Your hand cupped his cheek, he leaned into your touch. “And if he wants to get mad at you for that, he’s a piece of shit. He knows he fucked up, and he’s pinning it on you.”

Bucky pulled you close. He curled in on himself with you at his center, his head resting against your chest. The logical part of his brain believed everything you said. It disregarded Fury’s false accusations and willed the blame to dissipate. But the rest of him took Fury’s every word as gospel. It rejected your assurances, categorizing them as obligatory kindness from a significant other. Shame feasted on his soul. He didn’t want to feel this way, but it came easily. By now, it was second nature.

“Thanks, doll…” He lifted his head and brought his face to yours, “I appreciate you.” He meant it; no one ever supported him like this. But you always listened. You were always there for him, even when he was too ashamed to look you in the eye. You showed him patience and kindness and led him out of the dark more times than he could count.

He dotted a few soft kisses to your lips, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Wait-” Your hand caught his as he tried to get up, “I love you.”

A shy smile pulled at Bucky’s lips. He once again met your lips with his, needier this time. “And I love you.”

He stripped off his shirt and, immediately, your eyes landed on it. By now, you knew better than to stare. But sometimes, you couldn’t stop yourself.

The first time it caught your eye, you couldn’t avert your gaze. You noticed it right away- how could you not? It drew your focus the first moment Bucky removed his shirt in front of you. You didn’t think anything could ever distract you from his perfect body- but you were wrong.

A massive bruise splashed across Bucky’s skin. The cluster of broken blood vessels was dark at the center- nearly black. It exploded into by purples and blues that stained his right shoulder and eclipsed his chest. Sometimes, an angry, red haze leaked from the edges like a wine stain. Greens and yellows- signs of healing- colored the border every now and then. But no matter how many times you bore witness, they never seemed to overtake the tones of violet and navy.

For whatever reason, this thing refused to heal.

On more occasions than you could count, you asked Bucky about this large indigo mark. And he always had an answer:

“Ran through a wall”

“Jumped out of a plane”

“That John Walker asshole hit me with Steve’s shield”

He did, indeed, have a dangerous job and a penchant for peril. For taking risks. But no one else on the team ever seemed to have a bruise like that. Even you received your fair share of stitches and broken ribs, but never anything as persistent as Bucky’s bruise.

Wasn’t he a super soldier? Wasn’t he supposed to heal fast- really fast? His other injuries disappeared like they’d never happened; why did this bruise stick around?

“I think you need to get that looked at,” you told him once, “it can’t be good that it never heals...”

Bucky shrugged it off with a smile. He kissed you on the forehead and thanked you for your concern. But he didn’t get it checked out. He downplayed the massive bruise eclipsing his body and moved on, just like he always did.

“What are you lookin’ at?” Bucky quirked a brow at you, his shy smile making another appearance.

You shrugged, “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It’s not- it’s not that bad,” Bucky did his best to hide his bruise with his vibranium hand, but the colors extended far past what he could cover. “I’m used to it.”

Something had to be wrong with him, right? Something inside his body had to be out of order. The first time you saw it- the first time you saw him without his shirt- was six months ago. How long could a bruise last? And how long did he have it before he showed it to you?

Why hadn’t the serum fixed it by now?

Bucky was well past his expiration date. He lived more years than the universe intended, and his body suffered enough trauma for a hundred lifetimes. He was strong, he was a survivor. But every time you stole a glance at the inky spot on his skin, anxiety blocked your airway. Part of you wondered if this mark signaled his end. There was a chance that his body already started breaking down, that all those years of abuse caught up with him. Maybe his bruise was a harbinger. Maybe his days were numbered. Maybe he was dying.

Maybe you were about to lose him.

Those kinds of thoughts pushed bile into your throat. You shoved them into the darkest corners of your mind and did your best to lock them away, but they reappeared from time to time just to hurt you. Taunt you. Bring you to tears. And while Bucky made his way into the bathroom and turned on the hot water, you remained fixated on the inky spot. On his demise.

Bucky did his best to let the shower cleanse his mind. He told himself he’d let it all go- all the guilt and the blame. He knew he didn’t deserve it. But his shame didn’t run down the drain. It didn’t wash away with the warm spray of the shower. No, he remained coated in it, dripping with it, no matter how hard he scrubbed. And though it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, he never welcomed its reemergence.

A sliver of levity wriggled into his chest as he emerged from the bathroom. He found you reading in bed, your brows knit together in that cute way he loved. But your focus shattered when he stepped into the bedroom. He watched you dogear your page and shut your book as he climbed into bed.

“You don’t have to stop reading because of me, doll-”

“I was only reading while I waited for you,” you extended a hand in his direction and tugged him closer. He didn’t need to know that you only opened your book to distract from your crippling anxiety about his condition. He didn’t need to know that you read the same paragraph over and over and over without retaining a word. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need any other form of entertainment.”

“Is that so?” He narrowed his eyes at you and gestured to the book resting on your chest, “I’m better than Dracula?”

“Way better. So, the guy drinks blood and sleeps in a coffin-” You shot him a wink and knocked your book to the floor, “big whoop.” A dramatic eye roll and a quick laugh accompanied your comments about Bram Stoker’s masterpiece. But a sudden seriousness banished your playful tone as you gave Bucky a once over. He didn’t look any better- not that he ever looked bad. But the hot shower did nothing to help him relax. All his muscles remained taught. His brow still furrowed. The tension in his jaw seemed to turn to concrete. He was hurting.

“How you doin’, Buck?” A gentle hand smoothed over his shoulder and slid down his arm. “You okay?”

A manufactured smile spread across his face. His shoulders rose and fell in an all too casual shrug. “I’m fine- I’m good.” He couldn’t seem to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds.

Another tug of his hand brought him closer. “You don’t seem fine…”

“No, really. I’m okay,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed kisses to your palm. He was the farthest thing from okay; it was written all over his face. And though he did his best to put on a façade for you, you saw through the cracks. A heaviness lurked behind the grin he wore. A deep sadness darkened his gaze. You knew he probably spent the entirety of his shower replaying Fury’s words and berating himself within an inch of his life.

An extra helping of guilt dropped upon Bucky’s shoulders as he studied you. One of your nails dug into the cuticle of another. Your smile remained tight and tense. He could practically see the anxiety surging through your nervous system. And it was all his fault. You were worried about him, upset about him. How could he do this to you when you brough him nothing but peace?

He found it in him to take a deep breath, to let his shoulders fall a fraction of an inch. “It’s just gonna take a little time for me to get out of the shitty headspace Fury put me in. I’ll be alright-” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I promise.”

Fucking Fury. He seemed to allow everyone else chance after chance; he granted grace to every other member of the team. Everyone but Bucky. “You wanna get some sleep, then?” you cupped Bucky’s cheek, “hopefully, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Bucky nodded. He reached over and flipped off his bedside lamp before giving his pillow a few adjustments. He got settled under the covers and waited for you to do the same- but you didn’t. You laid there, watching him.

“You gonna turn your lamp off, doll?”

“Not until you’re all situated.”

Bucky looked down at his perfectly arranged covers and then back at you, “I’m um, I think I’m settled, baby.”

You quirked a brow at him, “Are you though? Come on-” you found his hand under the covers and pulled him closer. “Assume the position, Barnes.”

He let out a labored, tired laugh. “Baby, thank you, but I can’t. My hair’s still wet, you’re gonna be cold-”

“I don’t care- you had a rough day.” You could practically see the war raging within Bucky’s psyche. He was dying to crawl into your embrace a disappear into your warmth. But he couldn’t- not tonight.

“It’s okay, doll. You don’t have to, it’s-”

“Come onnn, Buck. You knowwww you waaaant toooooo.” You gave your chest a few light pats, beckoning him to you. “I know it always makes you feel better.”

Of course, he wanted to. Something about resting his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, and feeling your hands in his hair eased his soul. Even on his darkest, most soul-crushing days, he found solace with you. But guilt still gnawed at him; Fury’s rant played on a constant loop inside his head. And after what he’d supposedly done, he didn’t feel as though he deserved your love.

“Baby, I know you feel bad; And I know you’re trying to deprive yourself. But guilty or not- which you are not-” you gave his hand a squeeze, “you deserve comfort.”

A touch of heartbreak colored your voice. You were desperate to help Bucky, nearly begging him to grant himself some grace. Some care. In his attempts to hurt himself by staying far from your embrace, he’d hurt you instead. He’d made you sad, filled you with worry. He wondered if he’d ever be able to do anything right.

In an instant, he did as you asked; he’d do anything to make you feel better. His head rested against your chest, his wet hair dampening your shirt. It sent a rush of goosebumps over your skin- but you didn’t care. A deep sigh left Bucky’s chest as he melted against you. He often swore his body was made to fit yours, that he only existed to touch and be touched by you.

“See? Isn’t that better?”

“Mhmm…” he sighed, “much.”

You ran a hand through his wet hair, “Good. Now, let’s get some sleep. Okay?” You flicked off your lamp and wrapped your arms around Bucky, willing every ounce of your love into his body. He’d feel better in the morning- you knew he would. He just needed time and rest and a little love. And you gave him more than he ever dreamed of.

But around two in the morning, a strange sound vibrated on the edges of your consciousness. The dense ‘thud’repeated endlessly, like an eternal metronome. It resounded inside your head, mixing itself in with your dream until it finally woke you.

With your face still smushed into your pillow, you muttered Bucky’s name. The sound stopped- maybe you imagined it. Maybe it really was just part of your dream. Silence settled over your room once again and lulled you back to sleep.

But only a few minutes later, that sound woke you once again.

Your words came out sloppy, heavy with sleep. “Whass tha noise?”

No answer.

“Baby,” you said, more alert this time, “You hear that?”

Bucky didn’t respond.

With a groan, you forced your eyes open. There was no sign of disturbance or struggle; nothing out of the ordinary caught your eye. Everything was in its place- except Bucky. And when you pressed your palm against his side of the bed, the sheets lacked any remnants of his warmth.

This wasn’t like him- not anymore, anyway. Back when you first got together, Bucky left the room when he woke from a night terror. He’d slip out of bed and escape to the living room, forcing himself to withstand his panic attack all alone. But one night, you found him on the living room floor- desperate for breath. He clutched the corner of the rug and gritted his teeth, willing the anxiety to receded.

He flinched when you touched him; he didn’t hear you approach over the pounding in his ears. But the second he saw you, he reached for you. His sickly white knuckles regained their color as he released his fists and collapsed against you. He dropped his head into your lap, falling forward with the weight of his trauma. And he allowed your voice to soothe his racing mind. He let you guide him out of the agony.

Of course, he apologized for waking you. For inconveniencing you. Of course, you wouldn’t hear it. And when the panic finally subsided, he let you walk him back to bed. He buried his face in your chest and thanked you a million times over. After that night, you made him promise to wake you when these things happened- no matter what time it was. You made him promise not to suffer in silence. And he agreed.

You didn’t know he had his fingers crossed.

“Buck?” the anxious pounding of your heart boomed in your chest. “Baby?” You kicked the blankets from your body and abandoned your bed. Slivers of light made their way through the blinds and splashed across the floor, allowing you to search through the darkness. He wasn’t sitting on the floor or in the armchair near the window. Nor did you find him in the en suite bathroom.

“Bucky?” The hall was empty and the office void of Bucky’s presence. And while you searched for him, the sound refused to cease. It echoed through seemingly every fiber of the apartment. It haunted every space. Unfounded worries threw themselves at you, fighting to topple you to the ground. What if Bucky was hurt? What if he was gone?

No- he was fine. Of course, he was. Right? He had to be. The home you shared was safe. Nothing here could hurt or harm him in any way.

Well, maybe not nothing.

The thudding of your heart grew loud in your ears, nearly eclipsing the mystery sound all together. Part of you even doubted the existence of the noise- maybe it was just your anxiety getting to you. Maybe Bucky was in the kitchen grabbing a late-night snack, perfectly safe and happy.

But when you rounded the corner into the living room, all doubt fell away. Shards of your heart did the same as you stood in shock, watching the source of the sound reveal itself.

Bucky sat on the floor near the window, his back resting against the couch.

His metal fist hammered against his right shoulder again and again, beating the flesh a sickly blue.

The utter shock stole your breath, forcing it violently from your lungs. A burning erupted from your chest and spread through your every cell like wildfire. The floor seemed to tilt and ripple as a wave of dizziness sent you nearly collapsing into the closest wall. And through all of it, the sound persisted. The sickly thud of metal striking skin, striking bone.

But there was no time for your shock or sadness or heartbreak. Bucky needed you.

“Buck? Hey-” In only a few strides, you made your way to his side. But he didn’t look at you. He didn’t meet your eyes when you sat down in front of him, nor did he stop his assault. “Bucky, baby, can you look at me?”

He didn’t. He simply forced his hand against his chest over and over, no matter the pain.

“Bucky,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It came out more strained, more desperate than you’d ever heard it. The sight of Bucky doing this to himself almost made you sick, the sound covered you in goosebumps. A flood of saliva rushed into your mouth, warning you of the impending threat of vomit- but you forced it down.

Every time you asked about it, every time you wondered what caused that bruise- you never imagined it was self-inflicted.

“I need you to stop, okay?” Your words came out frantic, “Can you- can you just look at me for a second?”

His hollow gaze remained fixed on the floor. Anguish twisted his features, pulling his face into a pained mask. But his eyes held no life.

“Please-” your palm landed on his bruised shoulder mere seconds before the next strike. The force of his vibranium fist was sure to shatter your hand, but you didn’t care. You’d do anything to stop him from hurting himself. Anything to ease his pain. And if you couldn’t make him stop, maybe you could soften the blow.

But just as his fist once again neared his shoulder, he stopped. “Move,” his voice was low, almost timid.

“No.”

��Doll,” his eyes remained downcast, “I need you to move your hand.”

You refused. “I’m not gonna move, Buck. I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself.”

Finally, he dragged his shame-filled gaze upward. His despondent look sliced through you, cutting right to the bone. This was worse than the vacant stare he wore moments ago; this was utter misery. “Please…” his voice caught in his throat, barely pushing its way past the tension. “Move.”

But your hand remained; you’d keep it there until the end of time if you had to.

Warm, salty tears breached your lips as you spoke, and only then did you realize you were crying. “Buck, why are you doing this?”

“Because I know you won’t.” He clenched and unclenched his metal fist in a never-ending cycle, itching to resume his efforts. “None of you will. Not Sam. Not Hill. Not ever Fury. So, I have to.”

“Of course, we won’t. Why- Why would we?” It was an unfathomable thought.

“I need- I deserve to be punished. I deserve to face consequences for my actions.” The words fell from his lips in what resembled a recitation, like he had a script to follow. Like he’d said this before. “There are always consequences…” Again, he pulled his hand into a fist; the vibranium whined under his strength. “There have to be consequences.”

“There were consequences- your meeting with Fury? That was the consequence.”

He shook his head, “It’s not enough- people got hurt.”

“It’s more than enough…” With your free hand, you reached for Bucky’s cold fist. He resisted at first, almost scared to be without his method of punishment. But he never could resist your touch. One at a time, you uncurled his fingers from his tight fist. You pressed his cold palm against your chest and held it there, allowing the beat of your heart to vibrate through the metal. “Especially because you didn’t do anything wrong. People got hurt- but it’s not your fault.”

Bucky ached to maim himself. He needed to feel pain. Needed to get what he thought he deserved. But he couldn’t bring himself to tear his hand from your chest. And though you blocked his bruise and made punishment impossible, he liked the way your palm felt against his black and blue skin. It was the one part of him you always shied away from for fear of hurting the already tender flesh. But your touch soothed the deep ache.

“Baby, how…” you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, “how often do you do this?” You weren’t sure you wanted the answer; just the thought of Bucky doing this to himself day in and day out filled your chest with storm clouds. But you needed to know.

His words held a deep shame, “Whenever I deserve it.”

“Buck, you’ve had that bruise for at least six months...”

He shrugged, “I deserve it a lot.”

Everything inside you burst into flames. You wanted to tear Hydra apart, to destroy them for what they did to Bucky. They altered his sense of self so violently, so irreparably, that they changed who he saw in the mirror. He viewed himself only as a vehicle for destruction, a receptacle for other peoples’ wrongs. They drilled into him an acceptance of abuse, of pain, of torture. And now, he didn’t know how to operate without it.

“No, you don’t- you don’t deserve this.” A small quiver forced its way into your voice, “even if this whole thing was your fault- which it wasn’t- you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt.”

He stared at you for a long moment. Sometimes, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend the sentiment that he didn’t deserve pain and suffering; that he wasn’t always to blame. It was almost like you spoke different languages. Shuri may have eliminated the Winter Soldier programming and rendered his trigger words useless, but she couldn’t remove his shame. His guilt. His instinct to assume blame.

“I can’t do anything right-” His right hand gripped the edge of the rug. He needed some way to release his tension, his anxiety. The fabric bunched inside his fist and twisted with his every move.

“It seems like no matter what I do- or don’t do- someone ends up hurt. That says something about me, doesn’t it?”

“No. It doesn’t.” You slowly removed your hand from his metal wrist and found his right fist. He eased the tension in his grip with your help and released the corner of the rug. It fell crumpled against the hardwood, struggling to regain its shape. “Buck, you always say that you blame yourself because you think you’re a bad person. But I actually think you blame yourself because you’re a good person.”

He gave a small shake of his head.

“You’re willing to shoulder whatever guilt or blame other people put on you- regardless of whether you deserve it- because you’re not selfish.” He was, in fact, the least selfish person in the world. He’d set himself on fire to keep you warm. Would move heaven and earth to make you smile. He was loyal, devoted. He cared about you, about his friends, without ever putting himself first.

“And you haven’t buried yourself in ego or pride like some of the other guys we work with.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh.

No, he didn’t bury himself in ego; he had no ego. His self-image wasn’t inflated or overexaggerated. He just wanted to do his best. To help. To offset with light some of the darkness he caused.

“And maybe it’s your way of seeking redemption- not that you need to be redeemed,” you gave his hand a squeeze. “But maybe part of you feels like if you accept enough responsibility, it’ll make up for the things you were forced to do as the Winter Soldier.”

He let out a sigh from somewhere deep within him, somewhere he didn’t know he had. It seemed to him like he’d been holding on to this truth, this breath, since the day he escaped. And here, in the darkness, he released it. “I just… I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”

“That’s the thing Buck,” you gently stroked a few fingertips across his massive bruise, “You never were.”

His forehead fell against yours. The two of you sat there, motionless, for what felt like forever. Cars moved on the streets below. Thunder rolled through the sky. Rain drops tapped against the large windows. But neither of you noticed.

“If I move this hand-” you tapped your once again fingers against his bruised shoulder, “are you gonna do it again?”

He shook his head.

With great hesitancy, you removed your palm from the evidence of his self-inflicted punishment. It looked worse in the eerie 2am lighting, like a black hole formed on his skin; you feared it might envelope him completely if you let it. Your lips replaced your hand, leaving the softest of kisses across his skin. Bucky let loose a small sound- something like a whimper- as you traced the bruise with your mouth. He let a few tears slip down his cheeks.

“Thank you…”

You took a moment to drink him in. He was stronger than humanly possible. Hugely muscular. Nearly indestructible. But in the middle of the night on the floor of your living room, he looked so small. So fragile. His shoulders caved forward, and his read remained bowed. His voice wavered. His right hand shook ever so slightly. He was a man haunted, possessed by his past. Fearing the future. He was hurt. Broken. Lost in others’ perceptions of himself. He lay trapped under his need for validation from those around him. He sought approval from people who never dreamed of granting it.

You wondered if he’d ever be free from his ghosts, or if they’d follow him until he became one himself.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “All I ever want is to be there for you when you need me.” The tremor in your voice matched Bucky’s. Pure hurt rendered the air around you thick and heavy. You ached for Bucky, and he, in return, ached to be anyone but himself.

“What do you wanna do? We can go back to bed. Or if you don’t feel like sleeping, we can hang out in here and watch some tv.” You ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, “Up to you.”

Bucky’s mind still raced. His brain sat stewing in a deep pit of sorrow and anguish. But he was tired- exhausted. And while his mind wanted to stay up for a while, he let his body decide. His chest and shoulder screamed with pain. His skin stung. Each breath forced a sharp agony into his consciousness; he knew he must’ve cracked a rib. “Let’s-” he grimaced as an inhale filled his lungs, “let’s go back to bed.”

As gently as you could, you helped Bucky from the floor. He smiled when your hand found his as you led him in the direction of the bedroom. The two of you shuffled down the dark hall in silence with no clue what to say. Bucky wanted to apologize; you wanted to drown him in promises of your love.

Bucky stopped short when you paused, almost running into you. You turned to him suddenly, eying his bruise in the dim light. “You go ahead, okay? I’m gonna grab you an ice pack.”

“Doll, thank you, but I’m fine-”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “does it hurt?”

He shrugged; the motion made him wince. “I mean, yeah. But it’s-”

“Exactly.” You pushed up on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m gonna get you an ice pack. You get your ass to bed- I’ll be there in a second.”

Bucky whispered a ‘thank you’ and headed in the direction of the bedroom, leaving you alone. But just as he turned the corner down the hall, guilt wrapped around his ankles like a ball and chain. He was stuck; his need to apologize rendering him frozen. He watched you turn in the direction of the kitchen and wondered what he did to deserve you. “Hey, doll…” he called after you. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I promise.”

“But I-”

“You’re doing your best. You’re coping in the only way you know how. That’s not something to be sorry for.”

Bucky shrugged, winced, and disappeared into the bedroom, eager to escape your line of sight. Everything you did, you did for him. And though that knowledge should’ve eased Bucky’s soul, it only added to his guilt. He marked yet another tally to the long, long list of ways in which he didn’t deserve you.

The walk to the kitchen wasn’t long- but it provided a sliver of extra time for you to cope in private. If Bucky knew just how much this upset you, how heartbroken you were, he’d never forgive himself. He, instead, would add that knowledge to his ever-growing mountain of shame. He’d adopt a new method of self-punishment, something more subtle, easier to hide. And he’d never express his guilt or shame to you ever again, all to save your feelings. You couldn’t do that to him; he deserved an outlet, a sounding board, a space to vent. You’d never dream of robbing him of that.

“Alright, here we go,” you pushed open the bedroom door. “I got you one of the big ones, cause that thing is massive, and-” If you didn’t look up at the right moment, you would’ve crashed right into Bucky.

He stood near the foot of the bed, just inside the door, almost vibrating with anxiety. It rolled through him in waves and placed tremors in his hands. He didn’t stand a fighting chance.

His massive frame looming in the darkness almost blocked your path completely- and scared the hell out of you. “Shit-” You tripped over your own feet and stumbled backward, but Bucky wouldn’t let you fall.

He caught you in the nick of time, snatching you from the air and righting you on your feet. “Oh, hey- I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Without a word, you pressed the towel-wrapped ice pack to his skin. Though he detested the cold, the sensation awarded him much needed relief. A deep sigh left his chest as his pain receptors deadened and the constant, months-long throbbing subsided. This was the first thing to put his pain on pause in- he couldn’t remember how long.

You searched his face for any indicators of discomfort, “How does that feel?”

All he could do was nod. The two of you stood there a while as Bucky drank in the relief. The muscles in his shoulders released their tension, his breaths came a bit easier. But something dark lurked beneath his quiet surface.

“Such a gentleman, waiting for me to come back before getting in bed,” you threw him a wink.

Bucky’s attempted laugh came out broken, disjointed. To his credit, he tried to laugh for real. He wanted to put this whole night behind him and slide into bed with you. Under the covers, surrounded by your body heat, nothing could hurt him. The skeletons of his past couldn’t claw out of the ground and wreak havoc on his psyche. But a nagging dread yanked at his heart.

He couldn’t pretend things were resolved. He couldn’t forget his troubles and intertwine his body with yours like the knit of a well-loved sweater. The crushing weight of Fury’s blame sat atop his shoulders, growing heavier by the second. But he couldn’t find it in him to tell you, to ask you for help.

“Come on, let’s go back to sleep. Okay?” You tucked the ice pack into Bucky’s hand and started toward your side of the bed, “I know you’ve gotta be exhausted.”

But Bucky didn’t follow. He didn’t join you, didn’t even nod. He stood there, stuck, his feet anchored to the floor. The cold pack ate through his nerve endings until his hand went numb. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fill his lungs. They felt shallower, somehow- like they lost all capacity.

His deadened fingers fell open, allowing the ice pack to fall against the floor. The sound pulled your focus, halting your efforts to right the sheets and blankets.

“Buck?”

He didn’t answer.

“Hey…” Quick steps brought you face to face with his empty stare. “Is everything-”

His knees met the hardwood as the weight of his anxiety forced him into submission. He fell against the cold floor with a sickening thud, his body shaking with the force. His head bowed; his spine curved forward. Ragged inhales forced their way into his ever-constricting lungs.

“Please-” he begged through choppy breaths, “if you won’t let me do it myself, I need- I need you to.”

“Buck, I’m-”

“I need you to hurt me.”

His words gutted you.

“Baby, no.”

He begged over and over for punishment. For pain.

Bucky fell against you the moment you joined him on the floor. His head lay buried in your neck, his sharp breaths fanning your skin. He begged through the tears, through the torment, for pain. And you refused. Instead, you gave him the lightest, softest affections you could manage.

Under different circumstances, your gentle touch would’ve saved him. It would’ve brought him comfort in his moment of distress, grounded him during a bout of panic. But he didn’t want kind hands. For the first time, your soft touches prolonged the agony. The light circles you rubbed against his back filled him with impending doom. With misery. He wanted torture. Agony.

And even if he were dying, he’d willingly sacrifice his last breath to ask for punishment.

As carefully as you could, you helped Bucky lay down on the floor. How his body continued to run remained a mystery to you. He was drained, physically and emotionally. He was hurt. Panic ravaged his nervous system and pumped him full of cortisol. He was running on empty.

“Let’s try to relax a bit, okay? Let’s try to breathe-”

He shook his head against the rug, “No, I need- I need it. I need you to- can you…” His words came out weak- but desperate.

Your hands raked through his hair and massaged his knotted muscles. Over and over again, you swore your love to him. You showered him in assurances and words of kindness. And though he was grateful when sleep won him over, it didn’t stop his efforts. Even as he finally dozed off, he begged.

“P- please…” he sighed, his eyelids fluttering. “Need you… need you to.” His hand twitched, his brow furrowed. “Hurt- hurt me.” Hearing it didn’t get any easier.

For what must’ve been the millionth time, you refused.

And while Bucky slept in your arms, you remained wired. Every cell in your body swam in a cocktail adrenaline and cortisol. You wondered if you’d ever sleep again. Just when you thought Bucky’s story couldn’t get any darker, it seemed to do just that. His life was all shadows and wormholes wrapped in an inky abyss. No stars, no moon. Just shapeless, unsettling, endless night.

He deserved better.

The sun rose as you fell asleep. Your mind shut off; your body gave out. Thinking yourself in circles while Bucky slept in the safety of your arms depleted your every ounce of energy. Worrying this much didn’t seem healthy; you didn’t think it was even possible to feel such deep concern. You never knew how taxing crying could be. But Bucky was worth it- hands down.

No part of you wanted to fall asleep; Bucky couldn’t be left unsupervised. But a biological need for rest demanded you get some shut eye. And while you slept off the gut-wrenching night you’d spent with Bucky, anxiety seeped into your dreams. Images of Bucky maiming himself flashed behind your eyes. You saw him bloodying his body, abusing himself. His bruise haunted you.

Waking in bed threw you for a loop. Only a few hours ago, you’d dozed off on the throw rug covering your bedroom floor. But when you opened your eyes, you found yourself snuggled under the duvet with Bucky’s body under yours. His arms held you tight, your face nuzzled into his neck. This was how things were supposed to be.

It was then you realized- your head lay against his bruise. Even in your sleep, you did your best to protect him from himself. He wouldn’t dare strike his shoulder and risk hurting you. But the weight of your skull had to hurt him, didn’t it? He was sore, miserably so. Just the pressure of your palm resting against his bruise the night before made him wince- surely, your head was too much. With the utmost caution, you pulled your head from his chest.

“It’s okay- doesn’t hurt,” his voice was weak, full of exhaustion. You didn’t know he was awake.

“Oh. Okay, good. I, um,” you looked around for a few seconds. “I don’t remember getting in bed.”

“We didn’t- well, you didn’t.” He couldn’t believe that after everything he put you through the previous night- all the pain, the heartache, the worry- he let you fall asleep on the floor. It was selfish of him, inconsiderate. He should’ve insisted that you get in bed. He should’ve done what you asked and crawled under the covers with you. He failed you- again. “I didn’t want you to sleep on the floor…”

Your lips met his skin in a chain of soft kisses, “You know I don’t mind.”

“But I do,” he returned every kiss you granted him.

He woke nearly half an hour after you finally dozed off and found you curled up against him. Your head rested against the cold hard wood; the itchy rug left marks against your skin. A small shiver rattled up your spine and pushed you closer to Bucky’s warm embrace; it was too cold for you to sleep without a blanket. His body begged him to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t- not yet. He lifted you from the floor, his shoulder aching with the effort, and tucked you into bed with all the care in the world. Only then could he fall asleep once again.

“I’m sorry about- about all of it,” he said. “Last night was-”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you pulled your face from his chest, “I just wanna know what that was about.”

Bucky hoped that acting innocent would save him. “What?” Maybe if he pretended like he didn’t know what you were talking about, you’d move on. Maybe you’d tell him to forget it and save him the explanation. You didn’t.

“When you asked me to…” you gave a small shake of your head, “to hurt you.” The pain in your voice sliced through Bucky. He wondered if words could make him bleed.

“Oh. Yeah. That was… I was out of line,” his jaw tensed. “That wasn’t okay. I know I made you uncomfortable- I’m sorry. I never wanna upset you. I was being stupid. And selfish. It wasn’t fair of me-”

The shame practically dripped from Bucky’s lips. You could almost see in running down his chin, staining his skin. He expressed his remorse for things that weren’t his fault, for things he couldn’t control. He told you how sorry he was for his trauma responses and the anxiety that held him hostage. Maybe one day, he’d believe you when you told him he didn’t have to apologize. Today was not that day.

“I’m just worried about you, Buck. And I wanna help in any way I can-” you took a deep breath, “I just can’t help in that way.”

“I know.”

“Can you maybe tell me- can you help me understand?”

He remained silent for a long while. If he stayed quiet long enough, he could avoid any further distress on your part. With his silence, he could provide solace. But no. You had a penchant for knowing what made Bucky tick, no matter the pain it caused you.

Your unflinching stare drilled through him until he couldn’t take it any longer. “I needed you to hurt me because that’s what I’m used to. I’m used to punishment,” he finally said. “Because when I fucked up at Hydra, there were consequences. They’d beat me within an inch of my life to get the message across.”

Of course, this was a sad truth you already knew. But hearing it aloud- from his lips- gutted you. The image of a cowering, broken Bucky sent bile rushing up your throat. You could see him lying in a cell somewhere, his blood staining the concrete as Rumlow tore him apart. And of course, he’d never fight back- he couldn’t. Not unless ordered to.

“And now, that’s what I’m accustomed to,” he rested a hand against his bruise, almost on instinct. “I don’t know how to operate without it. I thought I’d be happy to never experience it again but… I feel like I need it.”

Showing Bucky kindness and understanding sat atop your priority list- but you couldn’t grasp his perspective. It didn’t make sense. He lived a life so foreign to you, so utterly other, that the things he said often left you confused. While the two of you had many similarities and things in common, some experiences would simply never be relatable. Some stories could never be shared.

And similar to how Bucky couldn’t understand your flagrant disregard for locking the front door, you couldn’t fathom why he’d beat himself blue.

“Why, Buck?” It wasn’t that you wanted to know. No, the truth could only serve to hurt you. But you needed to understand. You needed to untangle every knot within Bucky’s psyche and help mend his frayed edges. In order to help him, you had to first grasp his perspective. “Why do you ‘need’ it?”

“Because I know I deserve it.” The words came out course, almost aggressive. Bucky shot you a sheepish look, his method of a wordless apology. The next time he spoke, his voice was softer, his tone more even. “I’ve been conditioned to expect it. And waiting for that pain is- it’s torture. It’s almost worse than the punishment itself.”

He thought back on all the beatings he received as result of fucking up missions. On one occasion, they broke all twelve of his ribs in one sitting. Another time, they turned almost his entire body blue with bruises. But the times they made him wait it out were far worse than any bloodshed. He jumped at every sound, lost the ability to think. To sleep. To breathe. Every moment fell prey to the anticipation of agony. Bucky shuddered.

“I keep expecting pain. I feel like I have to look over my shoulder.” The urge to tear himself apart scratched at the inside of Bucky’s skull. If he could just deliver his punishment- if he could just get what he knew was coming- he’d be okay. By destroying his body, he could soothe his mind. But with you so close, staring at him with your blood shot, heartbroken eyes, he was stuck. “It’s like this sense of impending doom that doesn’t end unless I get what I know is coming.”

Things fell quiet as you thought over his words. Anxiety was an old friend you knew well. It accompanied you through everything, never leaving your side for more than a few days. But what Bucky described- that was the stuff of nightmares. That was misery.

“Hang on,” you tripped over a detail in his story, “then what happened last night?” You didn’t mean to sound skeptical- it wasn’t like that at all. You believed every word Bucky said. One part, however, didn’t quite make sense. “Last night, you got your punishment. You got the pain. Why did you ask me to-”

He sighed, “Last night was different. You caught me. I had to stop- I’ve never done that before. I’ve never stopped right in the middle. I was only out there a little while before you found me.” His vibranium hand pulled into a fist and slowly released. He did this time and time again as the urge hurt himself gnawed at him. “I didn’t do enough. It felt like holding in a sneeze or something. And when we came in here to go to sleep, I still had this sense of looming pain, an impending punishment. And I knew you wouldn’t let me give it to myself. So, I asked you to do it.”

The far-away look in his eye dissolved as he came screeching back to the present. Guilt dragged his features downward into a near scowl. “But I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” The remorse weighed more than he could shoulder. If he thought he knew what guilt felt like before, he was wrong.

“It’s okay, Buck.” You knew the memory of Bucky begging you for punishment would haunt you forever. It took up prime real estate in your mind and cut you deeper each time you paid it attention. But he couldn’t help it; this was part of his journey. When you started dating Bucky, you knew he wasn’t a ‘regular’ person. Darkness and demons followed him wherever he went, filling his mind with horrors most people could never imagine. Of course, there were going to be speed bumps and rough patches on the road of your relationship. But he never did anything with malice in his heart. He was simply trying to survive. “I know you’re just doing your best-”

“My best is pretty shitty.”

He was always so callous with himself, so unforgiving. It wasn’t fair. “Baby, you’ve made a lot of progress.” He was a completely different person than he was a few months ago. He’d worked hard every day to wade through his trauma and find himself on the other side- all while saving the world. “But it doesn’t all have to happen at once. You can’t heal from everything in one fell swoop. It’s not linear. It’s a slow process-”

“Really slow.” He let out a huff and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Part of him wanted to run; he couldn’t believe he’d subjected you- the kindest, most loving person on earth- to this corner of his awful reality. But he knew being without you was a fate worse than death. Worse than Hydra.

“I don’t want to do this-” he motioned toward his bruise. “I don’t want to hurt myself. But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to heal the part of me that’s always looking over my shoulder for a punishment.”

You smoothed his hair back and let your hand drift down his cheek, “You don’t have to do it on your own, Buck. Maybe you should talk to someone-”

He shot you a pointed look.

“Not Dr. Raynor. Someone else. Someone with empathy.”

Bucky gave a firm nod and a quiet laugh. “Okay, yeah. That works.

“And in the meantime, whenever you feel that impulse, I want you to tell me, okay? I want to help you through in whatever way I can.”

He tried to protest, but you silenced him. “I’m in this with you- full stop. I’m with you for all the hard stuff and the things you hate about yourself. I’m always in your corner.”

He snaked his arms around you and pulled you as close as possible, relishing in the feeling of your heart beating against his skin.

“This is a pain-free household, okay? We don’t do punishments here. We don’t hurt ourselves, and we don’t hurt each other.” You wiggled a hand free and offered Bucky your pinky, “promise?”

Not hurting you was a given; Bucky would never dream of causing you pain. But refraining from hurting himself was another story. The need sometimes possessed him, drove him to harm himself when the guilt grew too heavy. The look in your eyes, though, pushed him to promise you. You held such love for him, such adoration. And he knew you meant every word you said. You were going to help him through, to support him, no matter what.

He linked his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

“Good.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away, “hey, do you have Fury’s address?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “Uh, yeah. I think it’s in my notebook in the office. Why?”

In one swift motion, you slithered from Bucky’s arms and slid out of bed. “Oh, no reason,” you sighed as you headed for the door, “I’m just gonna egg his house.”

———————

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