#i think they were like this is always in buck's bathroom

[fraddit]

I'm sorry, but the Buck art hanging on the wall behind Eddie during that whole devastating scene... I can't not see it. It's so distracting to me. Why did they DO THAT???

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i need eddie to get another guy friend in season 8, and buck loses his shit about it (again), so he breaks up with t because he's convinced that the weird feeling he gets when he sees them together is because he is Really attracted to the new guy.

[tonycries]

Exes who…

Synopsis. Showing up to a party looking like that. What's a man to do when he just can't stay away?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, desperate boys, unprotected sex, NSFW, cunnilingus, pet names (my girl, babe), swearing.

Word count. 1.0k

A/N. This was supposed to be shorter, sorry lovelies. Art by @_3aem on Twitter.

Exes who know they should stay away, but one whiff of your perfume at some dingy party and he’s dragging you to the nearest bathroom. 

He’s pathetic, he knows, but right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck as he spreads you on that bathroom counter and dives face-first into your dripping cunt.

Greedily lapping at your juices, the taste of your pussy on his tongue was so addictive. Fuck, he missed this so much. 

He feels feral. Groaning lowly at the tug of your hand on his hair which hurts so good. He flicks his tongue harshly over your throbbing clit. More. He needs more.

“Hah- Fuck- Feels so good!”

“Yeah, jus’ like that, my girl.”

Making out with your pussy was almost as addictive as fucking you. You were a drug he couldn’t let up - he couldn’t get enough of. 

Nose-deep in your cunt, he tastes you over and over the way he imagined when he fucked his fist on those lonely nights.

Fingers digging into your thighs, he moves your legs so that they wrap around his head, bringing him impossibly closer to your hot core. He breathes over it - teasing - mouth watering at the sight of it getting wetter just for him.

He’s pretty sure your sinful moans and the squelching sounds could be heard above the overplayed pop on the other side of the door. Good, let them hear. It’ll teach that scrub outside that was eyeing you a thing or two about what he can’t have.

“Hngh- Baby, I’m gonna-”

Once you cum around his tongue, hips bucking wildly and clit catching on his nose as you ride his face, he thinks he’d be happy to die here if it was in-between your legs. 

A final peck to your quivering cunt - not a goodbye, no, he’ll be seeing this pretty pussy again - but a prelude for what was to come. 

Amidst heated kisses, he lets you taste yourself on his tongue as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. Fucking trousers - they come with too many fucking buttons. He wants to feel you now. Have your wet cunt pulsing around his painfully hard cock as he gets drunk off of your pretty moans.

So he does.

He only has his flushed tip kissing your folds, but already feels like he’ll fucking pass out. He teases your entrance - willing himself to wait like he did all these past few months. This won’t be the last time - he knows - but he sure as hell is going to treat it like it is. 

“Tell me what you want, my sweet girl.” he huffs out, eyes boring into your dazed ones. Beautiful. You were always so beautiful.

“Please. I need you in me so bad.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Please, baby.”

Your lustful whimpers are what makes him snap. You were going to be the death of him. 

Fully sheathing himself in you, he fucks your pussy with a merciless cadence that has your nails digging into his shoulder at how painfully good you were stretched. Tight. So tight.

He feels himself losing his sanity as your cunt struggles to adjust to his size, walls clenching down on his throbbing erection. It’s animalistic - the way your pussy tries to suck him back in when he pulls out fully, only to ram inside you again.

“Shit- Pussy made jus’ for me. Only me.” he moans. 

One strong arm steadying himself on the counter, and the other with an almost-painful grip on your hip, he keeps up a pace that has his abs burning. Heavy balls stinging as they smack relentlessly against your ass. 

He bites down on your exposed neck to muffle the strangled groans ripping from his throat at the ethereal feel of your snug cunt - he needs to better drink in your fucked out yelps at his harsh thrusts.

His dick twitches inside when you start whining out his name as you reach closer and closer to your climax. He could do this forever. You were heaven on Earth.

In his hazy mind, he distinctly registers the jingle of the doorknob. Annoying fuckers can’t take a hint.

“Fuck off.” he barks out, “I’m fuckin’ my future wife in here.”

His heart clenches as you push your face into the crook of his neck in embarrassment. Pulling you closer to him in response - strings of slick and precum connecting you to him - he hopes whoever’s there up above strikes him down if he doesn’t wife you up. 

Ah…he’s so close.

There isn’t even a hair’s breadth between your two bodies as he fucks into you mindlessly, not even a trace of thought for the poor soul on the other side of the door. He’s got more important things to do - you.

“Baby- Shit. I’m so close.” your exhausted mewls are music to his ears. His balls tighten and cock aches for release. 

Teeth clenched and brows furrowed at how your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly, he grits out “Me too, my girl. Me too.”

Your legs tighten around his toned waist as your cunt clamps down on his thick length - sending both of you over the edge. 

He sees stars as he cums. Thick ropes painting your walls white and shaky whimpers of your name leaving his mouth like a prayer. You really were heaven on Earth.

Cum drips down the side when he slows down to shallow grinds of his hips, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into you. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he pulls his sensitive cock out of you.

With a long finger, he gathers the cum now slowly dripping out of you. Pooling it at his fingertips before popping them into his mouth, half-lidded eyes looking right into your fucked out ones. He moans around them as if tasting a delicacy, elated at the way your mouth drops in disbelief at his lewd act. 

He feels barely lucid as he snaps your panties back on you with a devilish grin and tucks himself back into his trousers. 

Unlocking the door to pointed looks he couldn’t care less about, he can’t keep his eyes off the alluring curve of your hips as you walk away back to the party - pretending like his cum isn’t making a mess of your panties right now. 

Dick twitching to life again, he pulls out his phone - unblocking you once more. 

– GOJO, Choso, Geto, Suna, ATSUMU, KUROO, Oikawa, Sakusa, JEAN, EREN

A/N. …Gimme a min I’m cooking up something for Suguru…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[classyrbf]

we need shy freak I beggg, he ain’t seen this coming🙈

ᯓ★ FREAK LIKE ME! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...being the quiet girl sometimes has its perks and gojo satoru is in for a hell of a ride

INFO...gojo x fem!reader, quiet!reader, handjob, edging, kinda sub!gojo, dom!reader, establish relationship, reader reads smut/watches porn, overstim, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thanks for the request anon, I hope you enjoy!

Gojo Satoru was known for being the rich, handsome, popular kid who always had girls fawning over him everywhere he went. He’d get any girl he want just by flashing a smile and before he knew it, they’re panties dropped to the floor. College was fun when you were going out every other night, fucking this girl and that girl, because who cares? Surely not him. But one thing no one anticipated, not even Gojo himself, was getting a girlfriend who was quite literally the opposite of him. You were so adorable to him, different from the rest, too buried in your books and work to care about anything else going on.

Gojo noticed very quickly that you were the shy, quiet type. Everytime he’d try to kiss you, even compliment you, you’d turn away with a flustered look. “Awe, is my baby shy?” He’d chuckle, kissing your cheek. It was something he wasn’t used to at all, but he liked it.

You’d bought a new dress from the mall and Gojo demanded that you show him, practically pleading on his hands and knees when you shrugged your shoulders. Eventually you gave you in, walking out from the bathroom, hands clasped together and head hung low. “Do you like it?” You quietly asked.

“Like it? Baby, I love it! I’m resisting the temptation to just bend you over and fuck you right here!” His eyes widen in surprise. He chuckles at the way you turn your head away from him.

“Toru! Don’t say stuff like that! You scold him while hiding your face. Gojo thinks you’re the most innocent thing known to man, getting all shy over the smallest things. But what your clueless boyfriend didn’t know is that you weren’t some innocent, quiet girl who had zero clue about sex or intimacy in general. You watched porn, read smut, and fantasized about all the nasty things you wanted to do to your boyfriend.

It wasn’t until one day you decided it was time to get over your fears and show your boyfriend what he was missing out on.

“Baby—nnngh, ah—s-slow down…fuck!” His voiced cracked, head falling back into the crook of your neck as you pumped his cock from behind, his precum messily smearing over his length. “W-where—mmph—did this even come from?” He chuckled, hips stuttering when you squeezed the head of his cock tighter. His body slouched between your legs, chest heaving up and down. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum already!”

You wickedly giggled in his ear and Gojo absolutely has no idea how to feel in this moment. Who were you and what did you do to his sweet girl? “You’re leaking so much, Toru. You’ve been thinking about this, huh?” You darted your tongue out, licking a stripe on his skin. His entire body shuddered in your hold, eyes clenching shut when you ran your thumb over his throbbing red tip.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been thinking about it—hah!” He nods his head, his nails digging into the plush of your thighs as you bring him on the brink of his orgasm before slowing down your movements. “No, no, baby don’t tease me like that!” He whines, bucking his hips into your hand.

“You’re so needy! Does my pretty boy wanna cum?” You smirk against his skin, peppering small kisses from his jaw to his neck. He quickly nods his head, whimpering like a bitch in heat. Your hand firmly wraps around his throat and Gojo swears he’s sent to another planet. Where did you learn all this from? From who? From what? It’s like you switched personalities. But he loves it, craves it even.

“Oh my god,” he groans, eyes rolling back when you squeeze the base of his cock and slowly drag your hand up his shaft in circular motion. “Please, please, please,” he begs. His cheeks flushed a baby pink while drool forms at the corner of his mouth.

“Such a good boy, aren’t you? Already begging to cum.” You began to pump your hand faster, his legs shaking and hips stuttering. You wrap your legs around his, restricting him from moving any more than he already is.

His abs tense up, body jolting while his lewd moans echo off the walls of your bedroom. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna—shit, shit…gonna cum,” he whimpers. His brows in a concentrated furrow, too focused on the way your hand is wrapped around his thick, veiny cock. “C-cumming,” he’s barely able to groan out, his entire body going limp when you squeeze his throat harder. Your mischievous giggles send the blood rushing straight to his dick and milliseconds later spurts of his cum shoot from his aching tip. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His hips are shaking, globs of cum coating his abs and your hands, using it as lube.

“You’re still cumming,” you chuckle, his hips writhing beneath you. Gojo has never came this hard in his life and his dick was still pulsating in your hand.

“S-so sensitive,” he cries out, gritting his teeth as tears form in the corner of his eyes. His breath hitches and he swears he could see stars in his vision.

“Want me to stop? Is it too much, baby?” Your sultry tone sends shivers down his spine. He shakes his head no, biting down on his bottom lip, a metallic taste filling his mouth. “That’s what I thought.”

a/n: y/n is boughta make me bust and I’m the one writing her lmaoo

taglist (comment to be added):

@valleydoli @zxnxy @screechingbasementprincess @lexluthorbutnotbald @lynxslokley @briyah0

[suskz]

Hi pretty!! Can i request something about seungmin or lee know being a dilf luv u!!

pairing: dad!Minho x fem!Reader

t/w: fluff ; smut ; single dad Minho ; babysitter reader ; reader is an adult ; oral (m!rec) ; piv sex.

w/c: around 2.5k

a/n: please dilf Minho is so 😵‍💫 my brain said SEX SEX SEX but my heart wanted more. I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Sometimes you think about how it could have happened, if it had to happen, and if all of this is wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a handsome man. He’s mature, responsible, and so, so sweet.

But you wonder if all of this is really necessary, as your phone rings inside your bag on the chair.

You both stop your movements, and your eyes meet again. It’s really embarrassing to be interrupted at this point.

His grip on your hair doesn’t change, “Do you want to answer?” He asks only out of politeness, because he doesn’t really want you to answer. He wants you to stay on your knees and let him continue without interruptions because damn, your mouth feels so good around him and he just can’t get enough of it.

You think about it for a few seconds, but the answer is already written in your eyes.

You shake your head without even taking his cock out of your mouth, and the sight is so hot that he moans just from that.

“You’re unreal.” His hand resumes guiding the movements of your head, “You look fucking gorgeous with your mouth full.”

You squeeze your legs together at the praise and don’t suppress the moan that his words elicit because you know it sends vibrations to his cock that drive him crazy.

That’s why his hips buck hard into your mouth, pushing his cock deeper and making you choke around it for a moment.

He stops, “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

You shake your head no and start moving it again on your own, back and forth, letting him know that you’re fine and want to continue.

“Such a good girl.” His hand holds your head still as his hips begin to move quickly, “Taking cock so well,” he’s no longer looking into your eyes; he’s watching the spot where his cock enters and exits your mouth now, “Like you were— made for it.”

His breathing has sped up again. Your phone has stopped ringing, and now the only sounds you can hear are his soft breaths and moans.

The tears forming in your eyes make them shiny. Your face is probably a mess, but what’s important is that he feels good inside your warm mouth.

And he does, because his hips start to stutter erratically.

It takes just one look at your face and he’s throwing his head back, urgently pulling his cock out of your mouth, stroking himself hard and fast through his climax.

You feel a bit disappointed, honestly, because you really wanted him to come inside your mouth, but you don’t complain when you feel the spurts of his hot cum land on your face. Some on your cheeks, some over your nose, even on your eyelashes and your still-outstretched tongue.

You didn’t even have time to close your mouth before he came, but it’s fine. At least you tasted it a little.

“Wait, don’t open your eyes.” You do as you’re told and feel him taking something. His hand delicately takes your chin to lift your face, and with a tissue, he wipes the com from your eyes so you can open them again without anything getting in.

You thank him as you sit on the bed next to him, taking the tissue he hands you to clean the rest of your face.

And you look at yourself in the mirror when you’re in front of the bathroom sink and feel something weighing on you. Your mind is empty, there are no thoughts bothering you, yet there’s something that makes you feel bad.

But everything gets better when you return to him and look at him. He’s so handsome, even as he does something as simple as gathering some papers into his work folder.

He glances up at you, “Do you need something?”

“Uh- no, just- I wanted to take Eunji to the park today, is that okay?” Yes, it is okay, it’s fine, it’s always fine if it’s with you, but you don’t know what else to come up with.

He chuckles, perhaps amused by the silliness of your question, “Of course, there’s no problem, you already know.”

And soon you part ways. He rushes to work, you rush to pick up the little girl from school.

His child. The daughter of the man you just gave a blowjob to. The daughter of the single man you’ve maybe gotten a little too close to in these past few months, and who might almost be your father’s age. But it’s okay like this.

—

"Can I taste yours?" Eunji looks at you with those puppy eyes that you can't say no to. She knows it and takes advantage of it, little brat.

Her eyes light up as she tastes your ice cream. She lowers her eyes to hers with a sad expression, "Yours is so good."

You roll your eyes at her unspoken but obvious request, "Want to swap?"

She looks at you with sparkling eyes and nods eagerly.

You smile sweetly at her, and it's at this moment that your phone vibrates in your pocket.

It's Minho.

You're confused by his message until you hear Eunji's voice and see her getting up, "There's daddy!" You turn your head in the direction she started running, and you see him, waiting for her with open arms.

He has such an affectionate, serene, and sincere smile as he picks her up and spins her a couple of times in his arms —gently, mindful of the ice cream she holds— that you can't take your eyes off them. And you can't help the way your heart melts at the sight and a smile forms on your lips.

You see him lick her ice cream and see them talking, but you don't understand what they're saying.

Then it's like he remembers your presence and turns to look at you. You watch as he approaches you, and you stand up.

“Come join us too, Y/n! Group hug!” Eunji’s words freeze you in place amidst the white flowers of the field, and even Minho’s shoulders seem to stiffen.

It all happens so quickly though. It has to happen quickly. Because there’s nothing wrong with hugging after everything you’ve done together. It should be normal, right? It should be natural for the two of you.

Yet you feel hesitant, and Minho seems slightly embarrassed. It’s just new. It’s strange to say, but it is. Many things have happened between the two of you, but never this.

You try not to think about it as you accept his invitation and position yourself between his arms, wrapping your arms around him and the little girl.

You try not to think about how this is the first time you’re hugging him and might be the last, as you unconsciously melt into his embrace and savor the moment for as long as it lasts.

And of course, sooner or later you have to let go.

“Why are you here at this hour?” You try to sound as normal as possible despite the slight —not so slight— discomfort.

“I didn’t quite understand it myself, but they let me go earlier.” He, on the other hand, shrugs and seems to be fine.

“Then Y/n can come home with us, and we can all be together!” The little girl, still in her father’s arms, cheers happily.

Minho chuckles, “She’ll have things to do too, don’t you think?” Then he turns to you, “You can leave early today.”

Actually, you would have preferred Eunji’s proposal, but you’re forced to go along with Minho’s.

The girl rests her head on her father’s shoulder and sighs sadly.

You and Minho look at each other, then he looks at her, “What’s wrong?” He asks her sweetly.

“I wanted Y/n to stay with us,” she says, her voice trembling as if on the verge of tears, which she isn’t.

“I think Y/n would prefer to go home now, she must be tired.”

She sniffs, “Can she come for dinner at least?”

Minho seems to consider it. Oh, how he would enthusiastically say yes if he could, if only it didn’t seem weird.

Instead, he looks at you, the question already written in his eyes, “Would you like to? No pressure.”

Yet you feel the pressure anyway, from the weight of both their gazes, waiting for your response.

And so, a few hours later, you find yourself in front of Minho’s apartment door, dressed in your black shorts, chosen because of the heat.

When the door opens, you are greeted by a warm smile from Minho, holding a wooden spoon, and a hug from Eunji. Moments later, you’re in the kitchen, standing behind him as he moves around the stove expertly, and you feel so useless.

“I’d like to help, but I’d probably burn everything.”

There’s something good in this, because it makes him chuckle. “No problem,” he replies calmly, “I’m almost done anyway.”

“I want to be useful though.”

He turns towards you and raises an eyebrow, “Is it really you who’s saying that?”

Your cheeks tinge with a slight blush. You try to be helpful and he teases you like this.

“Sorry for trying to be useful once in a while.” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

He grins and turns back, “You can set the table while I finish.”

“It’ll be done!” you say, “By the way, that apron suits you really well.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised, then wrinkles his nose, “It makes me look like a cleaning lady or something; at least that’s what Eunji says.”

You laugh at his words, “Eunji is just a kid,” you reassure him. “I think it makes you look hot.” you add in a slightly lower voice.

Your eyes linger on him for just a second, but you swear you see his ears start to darken.

—

Dinner goes well, with a warm atmosphere and calm conversation.

Afterward, it’s Eunji who decides the plans. After all, you are there specifically for her. Or rather, at her request.

Time passes without you even noticing. Between board games and stories told by the little girl, you and Minho manage to find time to talk just between yourselves.

He holds back laughter while telling you about that time Jeongin, whoever he is, fell into a manhole, and his eyes sparkle as you talk about the saga you just finished watching.

When you finally glance at the clock, you regret not paying more attention.

You quickly get up, but Minho stops you, “Wait,” you freeze in your tracks, “It’s really too late, it would be dangerous to go out at this hour.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. He doesn’t want you to leave because he’s worried about you. And he doesn’t want you to leave because it’s a chance for him, a chance to spend precious time with you that he can’t let slip away now that it’s presented to him. 

“I don’t want to be a burden-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, “You won’t be a burden, I’m the one offering you to stay.” His voice is firm, and faced with his eyes so serious and determined, you agree to spend the night there.

After putting Eunji to bed, Minho quietly exits her room and finds himself facing you. You look into each other’s eyes, irises like chained together, and you smile at each other, amidst sentences and words kept hidden.

He prepares a space for you to sleep on the couch, and eventually, you both sit there, side by side.

“Eunji is really fond of you,” Minho says, looking down at his hands, “I think she sees in you something that I can’t be.” He lifts his eyes, meeting yours, understanding.

“You’re already enough for her; I’m just an addition.”

“You’re not an addition; you’re important to her.” He insists. And to me, he wants to add, but knows he can’t say that.

And then the unexpected happens. You don’t know who makes the first move, who leans in first, but it doesn’t matter when his lips are on yours, in a sweet kiss. A loving kiss ruined by wandering hands that force it to deepen.

But, fuck, you’d ruin it a thousand times over if it meant finding yourself beneath him every time, with his cock thrusting in and out of you in a needy, perhaps somewhat desperate way.

And you’re so wet that you know the bed sheets will need a good wash in the morning.

His voice is like a caress when he leans over you with his lips at your ear, “Shhh,” he whispers softly, “We don’t want to wake Eunji, do we?”

You are forced to bite your lower lip to stifle the sounds that want —need— to escape your lips.

But his thrusts are so well-aimed and deep, his hips so precise, and his moans released right into your ear so fucking arousing that you have to reach out and grab a pillow to place over your mouth.

He looks back at you, and a louder, needier moan leaves his parted lips, as his expression shifts from one of concentration to pure pleasure.

It’s only when you feel close that you move the pillow. “Minho, I’m close…” you warn him.

“Me too,” he groans, “Come with me.”

“Yes, yes, yes! J-just a little more, please.”

He does his best to hold back a little longer, and it only takes a few circles on your clit to make you come, tightening around his cock that finishes inside the condom.

He doesn’t realise it immediately, too caught up in the pleasure, but as he tries to catch his breath, he thinks about it and realizes.

“I love you- Minho, I-” You said it just before coming; it might have been something of the moment.

He lifts his head from where it’s resting in the crook of your neck and looks at you.

You are motionless, embarrassed, regretful. Because, fuck, you didn’t really need to say it. You could have realised the gravity of your words before saying them.

And Minho could pretend nothing happened. He could act like he didn’t hear it, and you could go on as usual. But, fuck, he can’t.

The words escape his lips before he can stop them, “Did you really mean it?” He’s so direct, a request so desperate.

And you could say, “No, it was just the heat of the moment.” but apparently, that’s not really an option for you, because you speak without thinking twice, and you couldn’t feel freer when he smiles and kisses you. His soft lips on yours, in a moment you both have been waiting for so long.

And when the next morning he wakes up first and observes your sleeping face and relaxed body, he couldn’t feel happier.

Because he doesn’t have to hide anything from you anymore.

Because you love him too.

[remlionheart]

NSFW Alphabet: Osamu Dazai Edition ♡

♡༊·˚ mdni. ((dedicating this to my pretty gf @bratbby333 since she's the dazai to my chuuya and some of these situations were in inspired by our unhinged 5 hour long facetimes calls, *cough cough* "blood-chilling" *cough cough* ♡)) this was honestly so much fun to write. dazai would be SUCH a diva in a relationship but he would also be so loving and protective ugh. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡༊·˚

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dazai's almost always the first one out of bed after the fact. He already has a shower running for when he comes back into the room to hand you a towel and a glass of water. You tell him that your legs are too tired to walk all the way to the bathroom so he scoops you up into his arms. The two of you laugh as he carries you into the steam-filled room. He lets you get under the water first, squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his palm as he instructs you to turn around. "Suppose your hands are too tired to wash your hair, hm?" You bite back a smile, giving him a pitiful nod in response. "My poor girl." He hums. His long fingers massaging into your scalp feel like heaven. He leaves light kisses along your shoulder, running a washcloth over your body while whispering sweet little nothings like "How'd I get so lucky?" into your skin as he cleans you off. It's hard to believe this was the same man who was making you beg on your knees for him just twenty minutes ago.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Aside from his body's infuriating aversion to death, there aren't a whole lot of things that Dazai doesn't like about his appearance. Aesthetically speaking, he finds himself fairly attractive so it's hard to narrow down one thing he likes best. If he had to though, he'd probably go with his hands. He's always gotten compliments on them, but after seeing what strong reactions they're able to coax out of you so easily, he's realized they're one of his most valuable assets. As cliche as it may be, your eyes are his favorite feature. He finds it adorable how they always tell him what he needs to know without you ever having to say a word. They tell him when you want more, when you want less, when you're about to hit your breaking point. They guide him in the right direction every single time. Plus, they're just so fucking pretty to look at.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The only thing more blissful to Dazai than hearing or seeing your orgasm is tasting it. His head is buried between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out of you deliriously as your thighs start to lock around him. You're spasming for him again, your voice breaking as you call out his name and your hips buck up towards him. "Dazai, I can't -" You whine. "'m so... sensitive -" "C'mon baby, please." he groans, "Just one more f’me." his tongue swirls against you with fervor, his digits still greedily plummeting into you. "Lemme taste it, lemme feel it. You’re sooo close." His fingers curl at just the right angle, his tongue faithfully lapping against you as you finally fall apart for him. He moans at the sweetness that spills down his chin. "You taste like fucking ecstasy, you know that?"

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's not necessarily a secret because in his defense, if you were to bring it up or ask him about it, he'd tell you the truth. But Dazai can't help it that you've never inquired about his exes and he's certainly not going to offer up the fact that he knows every single person you've ever been with going all the way back to the boy you kissed on the playground when you were 4 years old. Or that he just so happens to know all of their current addresses and their moms’ maiden names and where they work and their social security numbers. I mean, does it even really matter anyway?? He just got a little curious, that’s all!!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dazai had been with his fair share of partners before meeting you. Sex wasn't something he was ever shy about. He did a lot of experimenting, especially when he was spending the majority of his time drinking. He's always felt comfortable in his body and never saw the big deal about sharing it with someone. It wasn't until the two of you started dating that he realized just how binding sex could be. That it could transcend well beyond the simplicity of skin against skin contact. Being inside of you was the closest thing he'd ever felt to a religious experience. It felt like coming home after a long day. No matter how many hookups he'd had in the past, there was nothing that could've prepared him for how good you'd feel.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes any position that allows him to see your face. His favorite is probably fucking you from the side though, both of you facing each other with his arm hooked under your thigh, letting him go as deep as he pleases. He gets lost in the way your pupils dilate when he plunges into you. The security of your arms wrapped around his neck as you whimper and wriggle against him. There's something so intimate about watching you come undone from this view. Feeling you drench him while he kisses you over and over. "Let it out, baby. I've got you. Doin' so good - fuck, baby you're doin' so good f'me."

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As passionate as Dazai is when it comes to being inside of you, he's still able to find a level of a humor in just about anything. He's a Gemini, after all. If he's too serious for too long, he'll simply die. You're on top of him with your hands tangled into his for balance as you grind against him. Your hips are rocking back and forth at a pace that's making his breathing uneven. You feel proud, thinking his reaction is a sign of you doing a good job until you watch his head roll to the side, a stupid smile suddenly visible as he tries to bury his face into the pillow. You quickly realize it's not a moan that he's holding back, but a laugh. Your movements come to an abrupt pause. "Dazai." He tries his best to keep it together, but the scolding tone in your voice coupled with the stern look you're shooting him is only making it worse. “Wait, listen -" he tries to explain himself, but he's powerless to his own thoughts. A burst of suppressed laughter fills the room as he covers his face with his hands, still feeling the weight of your glare on him. "R - remember -" he struggles “Last week? When you were telling me about that book you were reading and...." he nearly snorts. "And you described it as -" Your lips press into a flat line, your eyes glazing over as you realize what he’s getting at. You knew the second you messed up that phrase, you'd never hear the end of it. "Are you seriously still laughing about the fact that I said 'blood-chilling' instead of 'bone-chilling?'" "BLOOD-CHILLING!" He repeats with the most obnoxious cackle, narrowly dodging the pillow you throw at him.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dazai spends more time grooming himself than you do. Hours in front of the mirror looking at himself from every angle to make sure what he's done is up to his standards. He's subscribed to one of those manscaping services where they mail him out a surprise bundle each month of new products to try. When you go down on him one night, he asks "...Does it smell like teakwood?" Your head pops up immediately, unsure if you even want to know what he's hinting at. "What?" "Nothing... it's nothing."

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In love, Dazai worships you. He has every inch of your frame memorized and knows exactly what each tiny movement and whimper mean. He's studied your body like it's his lifelong passion and he's learned how to make it respond so well for him. Your hips just barely buck up while he's on top of you and he smirks, his hair lightly brushing against your forehead. "You sure can handle the whole thing? Figured you'd still be sore after last night." You shake your head back at him with the poutiest expression, your core aching for more. "I can take it." you insist, "I can -" He challenges your sureness, giving you another inch only to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hand gripping onto the sheet above you. He'd never deny you of anything you wanted, but especially not when you looked this gorgeous. He grabs your hand, tangling his fingers into yours before drawing back and burying himself into you. "That's my girl." he groans, reeling in the way your walls so eagerly swallow him. Your breathing is erratic, your composure completely gone as you writhe and clench around him. He knows you're right there. You start to close your eyes, but he stops you, bringing his free hand under your chin to redirect your attention back to him. "Let me see it, angel. Show me." He slams into you again, giving you every inch of him this time. "Show much you love this." And you do. You show him three times in 20 minutes how much you love it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dazai's the first to admit that he has a high libido and if the mood strikes, he's going to do something about it. He gets bored easily, so he has a variety of different mediums to get the job done - the 'hidden' folder on his phone that's filled with pictures and videos of you, romance mangas, fleshlights, audio porn, hentai. He's not afraid to experiment even when he's alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dazai is a true switch and will really fall into either being dominant or submissive depending on the situation. There are nights he gets off work and starts throwing out demands like, "On the bed. Now. Legs apart f’me." as he strips out of his jacket and pushes you down further onto the mattress. But, the are other times where he's dying not to be in control anymore. Where he's had to make too many decisions and he revels in the way you take the reins. The way you climb on top of him and whisper "good boy" as he grows hard beneath you. The only thing he loves more than making you beg is begging for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dazai has a bit of a thing for voyeurism and recklessness so when Kunikida hires a driver to pick the two of you up to take you to a dinner for the ADA, Dazai has no hesitation on hiking up your dress in the back of the limo. Peeking up every so often to see if the driver has even noticed the way your tits are pressed up against the window for passing cars to see as your vehicle speeds down the highway. You arch your back perfectly for him, giving him full control as he plunges into you. Your walls are so snug and gushy, he knows he won't last long. But you're enjoying this just as much as he is, playing with your clit as he grabs your hair and pulls you up to kiss him. "You like knowing that people can see me fucking you?" he whispers, biting down on your bottom lip. "Your cunt’s drippin’ alllll over me.” "Fuck - yes.” You moan, feeling your legs beginning to shake as you let out a strained. “I’d let you fuck me anywhere.” His smirk deepens, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dazai's pretty easy to wind up in general, but he definitely has a thing for asphyxiation. Perhaps it stems from the lingering effects of suicidal ideation, but the feeling of something cutting off his airways makes him feral. When you're on top of him and you reach for his throat, he nearly fucking melts. If he could choose any way to die, he'd request for it to be at the mercy of your loving fingertips digging into the side of his neck.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There aren't many things that Dazai wouldn't do. Not just sexually, but in general. His curiosity almost always gets the better of him no matter the situation. The only time he's ever told you no was when you were being too hard on yourself. He walked in on you picking at your body in the mirror. Pulling your skin in different directions to see what you'd look like if your arms were thinner or what you'd look like if your nose leaned more to this way instead of that way. His heart sank. All of the post-work fantasies he had built up over the day disappeared the minute he saw how frustrated you were. "Hey," he whispered, coming up behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. "Please stop being mean to my girlfriend. She doesn't deserve that." You tried to brush it off as a joke, leaning up to kiss him while he held you, but he pulled back. "I'm serious." he ran light fingers over your stomach, his eyes locked with yours in the reflection of the mirror. "We're not doing anything until I hear you say at least five things you like about yourself." He could see past almost any crime or murder, but he drew the line at you degrading yourself.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dazai's all about both, but if he's being completely honest with himself, he loves the feeling of your mouth around his cock. How cute you look when you struggle to take the whole thing. The way your eyes widen when he thrusts into your throat. How thorough you are, turning the act of going down on him into a work of fucking art. Even though you’re the one submitting to him when you get on your knees, he still feels like he's at your grace. You feel so good, he'd do anything to keep your lips wrapped around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Just like anything else, pacing could go one way or the other. The thing about Dazai, is he wants to do whatever you want to do. Even when he's in more of a dom role, your pleasure is still his main focus. There's no such thing as wrong time or wrong place as far as he’s concerned. If you wanted him to fuck you slow and sensually in the club bathroom, he would. He'd dim the lights, lock the door, lay his jacket down for you to sit on as he propped you up onto the sink and kissed you passionately. If you wanted fast, rough, filthy sex by candlelight on a bed of roses, he would. He'd wrap his hand around your pretty little throat, mocking the way you're struggling to breathe as he bullied himself into you while you’re surrounded by romantic ambiance. Whatever you want, he does too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If there was a tornado approaching your house at a reasonable speed, Dazai would still find time to have a quickie with you. Especially if he thought it was the last thing he might ever do. He wants to feel you as much as he possibly can. The construct of time really means nothing to him. You have to log onto a work meeting in five minutes? "I can fit under the desk, baby :((( they won't even see me. Just spread your legs and keep a straight face, okay?" Your parents are on their way over? "They drive so slow anyway, angel and the door's locked. Promise we won't get caught." You're waiting for food to be delivered? "Bet I could make you cum twice before the doorbell even rings." Getting to spend five minutes in you is always better than spending five minutes out of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dazai isn't just willing to take a risk, he's usually the one pushing for it. Any time your phone rings, his hands are suddenly roaming along your body, his fingers dipping into the softness of your underwear as he starts to kiss your neck. He knows you're on the phone with your boss, that makes it even better. He wants to see how long you can keep your composure while he torments you. Your eyes are like daggers when you look back at him, but your cunt betrays you entirely, grinding against him needily while he smirks. He picks up the pace, reeling in the subtle way your thighs shake. You're trying so hard to sound so professional and coherent, but your thoughts are everywhere. You're having to hit the 'mute' button every few seconds just to let out a whimper. Dazai nips at the nape of your neck, slamming into you with an extra finger this time causing you to nearly drop your phone. "Ahh ~!" But there's no time to hit mute with how he's suddenly plunging into you. Your boss asks if you're okay and you have no choice but to hang up. "Dazai -" you try to keep your voice firm, but you can barely see straight the deeper he sinks into you. "What - the... fuck -" Each word is a moan, your hand grabbing desperately onto the collar of his shirt. "Dazai," "Somethin' wrong, baby?" "Dazai, you can't -" But he already is. He already is so bad. "Dazai, please." You're not even sure what you're pleading for anymore - if it's for him to stop or continue. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, your heart slamming into your chest as more uncontrollable whines fill the room. "Dazaaiii ~" you whimper again, soaking his hand as his thumb brushes across your clit. "Ohmygod, fuck. You can't keep doing that." "No promises." He smirks, carefully pulling out of you before bringing his fingers to his mouth. "It's not my fault you taste so good."

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It all depends on the mood, Dazai's pretty versatile. Could he fuck you for hours? Yes. Has he? Many times. It's no secret that he loves watching you struggle to walk the next day after having your legs pinned against his shoulder. But he knows he can't do that every time. He generally tries to follow your lead and give your body what it wants - whether that's 20 minutes of gentle, deep, intimacy or an hour of a mating press followed by overstimulation. As long as you're getting off, so is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His nightstand is filled with an assortment of silicone stimulants for the two of you. Cockrings and vibrators and bondage kits. Out of all of the subscription services he has, getting a bundle of mystery toys delivered to his house each month is by far his favorite. He always waits 'til you come over to open it. Pouring you both a glass of wine as you divvy them out and argue about decide on who gets to use what on who.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Osamu Dazai lives to tease you. As far as he's concerned, the only reason the sun rises each morning is so that he can find new and exciting ways to make you grovel for him. He'll tie your hands together above your head, slowly unzipping his pants in front of you. Forcing you to watch as he strokes himself above you, groaning out lewd little nothings like, "Oh fuck, 'feels soo good." while he smirks at your pouty little face and the way you begin to squirm underneath him impatiently. “See how hard I am? God, just imagine what it'd feel like inside you." His hand pumping uppp and doownnnn tortuously out of reach. "Tell me baby, would you want me to go hard and fast or reeaall slow and deep?" He fucking moans while you writhe helplessly against the mattress, your neglected cunt throbbing. "Dazai, please." "Poor thing." He mocks, still jerking himself to the sight of you looking up at him with pleading eyes. "You can do better than that though, can’t you angel? C'mon, make me believe you.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

There's no denying that Dazai's loud. You make him feel so fucking good and he wants you to know. He'll have a fistful of your hair, groaning out your name while your tongue swirls around his tip. "Fuuuck.” He whimpers. "Oh - my… god." Tiny hearts cloud his vision as he watches your throat fill with his length, the heavenly sounds of you gagging on him echoing across the room. Your eyes gloss over, spit pooling down your chin when you look back up at him, your tongue still pressed firmly against his base. "S'fucking gorgeous when you suck my cock." His praise only make you go faster, drawing out the prettiest whines from him. "Nnngh ~ don't stop, baby.” His grip tightens in your hair. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." His hips buck up with each syllable, his rhythm unrelenting as lecherous tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You keep going though, drowning in the noises he's making for you. "Right there, right there. 'm gonna - oh fuck. 'm -" You feel him twitch inside your mouth before a flood of warmth suddenly coats your throat. "Swallow f'me, angel." his voice is so heady and delirious, it comes out as more of a beg than a command, "Fuck... Yeah. Just like that, mmm, god, just like that." You take it all in, not letting one drop go to waste. "You're sucha good girl, you know that? Sucha good fucking girl."

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dazai gives the illusion that he's not jealous. That it doesn't bother him in the slightest when you go out with your friends or when you stay at the gym longer than you said you would. He does trust you - completely, actually. He knows you'd never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with him. It’s the outside world he doesn't trust. When you're driving home from work, he's watching you through the location sharing on your phone. He stares at the screen intently until he hears you pull into the driveway. When you’re at the bar, he knows the importance of girls’ time and he’d never spoil that. He simply wants to make sure no one is bothering you. He shows up, stealthily lingering in the background, watching his pretty girl laugh with her friends and dance with a drink in her hand the way she should. He loves seeing you have fun, he doesn’t want to take that away from you. He just follows behind your Uber to make sure the driver gets you to where you're going safely. He's seen too many tragedies between working for the PM and ADA, he can't take the risk of letting anything happen to you. So, he doesn't. There's absolutely nothing off limits to you. The entire world is yours. You just... might see a man in a suspicious looking jacket that bears an eerie resemblance to your boyfriend trailing behind you from time to time while you're out. It's only because he loves you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Standing at a solid 5'11, Dazai's decently tall and slender - surprisingly muscular underneath all of those bandages. His waistline is so pretty and his hands? God, those long beautiful digits have brought you to your breaking point more than a few times. Besides excelling in dexterity, he's also packing. A perfect blend of length and girth that curves ever-so-slightly as if it was made for the sole purpose of hitting your g-spot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dazai would bend you over in in front of the Pope if you'd let him. He's unapologetically ready to go at any time. He can't help that you're just so gorgeous and that his eyes are always glued to the way your hips sway when you walk in front of him. He yearns for you constantly, even when you're not around. If he could have a 10-hour loop of you moaning his name that's what he'd use as white noise to fall asleep to each night. He can't help that his dick twitches at the thought of you. It's not his fault you're so pretty :((((

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rest has never come easy for Dazai. He's tried every natural (and narcotic) sleep aide he could get his hands on. Put down multiple bottles of Pinot Grigio and still found himself up for days on end. Up until he met you, he didn't think it was possible for him to sleep for more than two hours at a time, but the first time you invited him over to your apartment changed everything. The two of you had been talking for hours - laughing and debating and sharing secrets over a bottle of cherry whiskey. He could've stayed up long past sunrise with you but when he noticed how tired your eyes were getting, he offered to take you to bed instead. Both of you stripped down into lazy pajamas. You, in an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Dazai, in his boxers. You looked so peaceful when your head hit the pillow, he was sure that you'd be out soon, but to his surprise, your body had other plans. Your lips were soft against his, your hands gently roamed along his body as you pulled him on top of you. You smiled at the way his hair tickled your forehead. The sun was just barely creeping through your curtains, grazing your face as he slid into you, highlighting the pleasure that had taken over your features. It was all so hazy and comfortable. Your room filled with heady mid-morning noises while his body thrusted generously into yours. There was something so intimate about it that it nearly brought you to tears. You felt full in every sense of the word. When you were both good and spent, the two of you laid in the middle of your bed with your head nestled into his chest. He played with your hair, watching you fall asleep in his arms. He'd never felt more human than he did in that moment. His eyes closed, his mind turning off for what felt like the first time in years as he drifted off with you.

ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

‎♡‧₊˚ here's chuuya's version if you're new here ‎♡‧₊˚

[nastybuckybarnes]

Cling to me

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: You overhear something you weren’t meant to hear. 

Warnings: Angst, Language, Fluff, 

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: wrote this one a year ago teehee but I LOVE this kinda shit I live for it. hope y’all enjoy 

~*~

“So things are going well, then?”

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, you really shouldn’t. It was an accident.

You had approached the bathroom door to ask Steve for a towel, not wanting to drip water all over the carpeted hallway, when you heard him and Bucky talking.

The bathroom fan is on, drowning out the sound of you stepping closer to the wood.

“Well, yeah, I guess so. I mean... I guess.”

You frown.

You thought things were going great.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh and glances at the bathroom door then slightly lowers his voice, but you can still hear him clearly.

“She just... she’s real needy, Buck. She’s physically clingy, always sitting by me or on me and holding my hand and stuff... and she never leaves me alone when I’m out on assignments. I’m just... I need some space.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest for a moment before beating twice as hard, each beat smashing against pins and needles and sending pain radiating through your chest.

Too needy.

Steve thinks you’re too needy.

This is how it started with Jeremy.

You were too clingy.

Slowly, you back away from the bathroom door and slide down the wall, shivering at the wet droplets clinging to your skin, then put your face in your hands.

Steve won’t be like Jeremy. He can’t.

Everything will be fine, you just need to give him space.

You can almost hear Jeremy’s voice in your head, whispering words that he’d repeat when you were with him. But maybe he was right.

Just because you like being physical and spending time with him doesn’t mean he wants that too. You haven't even taken his wants into consideration.

A knock on the bathroom door startles your face out of your hands and you flip your head up, looking at the door with wide eyes.

“Honey? I’m just gonna go grab some drinks with Bucky and Sam. I’ve got my phone and I shouldn’t be home too late.”

You take a deep breath and nod even though he can’t see you.

“Okay, have fun!”

Your voice is a little duller than usual, a little less lively, but Steve chalks it up to the fan distorting your voice.

You stay rooted in place on the bathroom floor, knees hugged up to your chest, for hours.

You’re not sure why, whether it’s out of fear that he won’t come back or that he’ll be waiting out there to break up with you, but you’re terrified.

Eventually, after the chills have sunk into your soul and shivers are shaking your bones, you leave the bathroom and get dressed.

Usually, you’d put on a pair of panties and one of Steve’s shirts, but you can’t bring yourself to touch his stuff after what you heard.

You pull on a tank top and a sweater and your fuzziest socks, hoping to chase away the cold, though it feels like it’s here to stay.

The apartment seems so empty without him there, and you yearn to check up on him and make sure he’s okay, but you don’t go near your phone.

He’s a grown man and he can take care of himself.

You barricade yourself in the bedroom, cuddled up under the blankets and holding one of your pillows to your chest as you watch reruns of Golden Girls.

You fall asleep before he gets home, though you’re awoken by the sound of the door opening.

Instead of perking up and meeting him like you usually would, you stay in bed, pillow hugged to your chest and eyes shut.

He’s stealthy as he joins you in bed, sliding in behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

It takes everything in you not to shake his arm off.

As he leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of your neck, a tear slides down your temple and buries itself in the pillows.

~*~

Steve’s confused at your sudden change in behaviour, constantly checking his phone for texts from you and missing your touch when he sits on the couch reading a report.

You’re standing in the kitchen a few days later, talking softly to Yelena and Wanda while Bucky, Natasha, Sam and Steve all sit on the couches in your living room.

The two women lead the way into the living room and you follow them, not stopping your conversation as you take a seat between the two of them.

Steve’s eyes are focused on you, waiting for you to look at him, to realize that you’re not sitting in the right spot and that you should be closer to him, but you never do.

You stay engaged in your conversation, laughing at something Yelena says before turning your attention to Wanda.

Bucky watches curiously as Steve balls his hands into fists then turns back to the conversation he was having, his voice slightly more strained than before.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Bucky asks later that evening after almost everyone else has gone home.

You’re already in bed, oblivious to the conversation they’re having.

“I thought it was, but not cold turkey. She hardly texts me unless I text first, she doesn't kiss me goodbye anymore, and she hasn’t sat beside me once in the past week.”

Bucky shrugs, “you’re the one who said she was too clingy.”

Steve knows.

He fucking knows.

And maybe he’ll like it, but first, he needs to get to the bottom of why you’ve switched so quickly.

After bidding Bucky goodbye, Steve joins you in the bedroom, climbing into bed beside you and rolling onto his side to watch you.

Your attention is focused on the TV as if he isn’t in bed with you at all.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you reach over and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, then turn off the TV.

You don’t do it on purpose, but he doesn't say anything.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, turning onto your back and facing away from him.

He stares at you in shock.

The past couple of nights he’s come into bed after you’ve been asleep, but tonight he was sure you’d cuddle up against him like you usually do.

“Goodnight. I love you,” he murmurs, heart racing in his chest as he waits for your reply.

“I love you too.” There it is.

It settles his heart a tiny bit to hear you whisper the words, but he’s still confused by your actions.

You always cuddle up to him.

Always.

Every night that he’s been home for the past year.

And now you’re not even wearing his clothes to bed.

He can’t sleep at all that night, too focused on how strange you’ve been acting and how much he fucking hates it.

And then it dawns on him.

You must’ve heard him talking to Bucky.

That’s the only explanation.

His heart hurts in his chest and guilt floods his body. He tosses his head back against the pillows and squeezes his eyes shut, hating himself for ever speaking those stupid words.

He was just having a bad week. He was overwhelmed with work and briefings and then you were always by his side.

It was too much.

And now you’re doing everything in your power to distance yourself from him.

You’re lying in the same bed but you’ve never been further away.

Sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of your body, but you may as well be a thousand miles away.

The guilt wells up in his eyes and slips down his cheeks as he rolls onto his side and pulls you against his body, burying his face in your hair.

Fuck, he feels terrible.

All night he thinks about how much you do for him, how much you love him and everything you’ve given to him and sacrificed for him. And he couldn’t even appreciate you properly. No, he had to go and run his mouth about bullshit that he didn’t even mean.

He has to make this right.

He will.

He just has no idea where to start.

~*~

When you wake up the next morning there’s a strong arm secured around your waist.

You’re so used to waking up alone that you can’t help but cuddle into it. That is, until you remember his complaints.

Shifting as slowly as you can, you try to slip out of his grip, but he only wraps his arm around you tighter.

“You’re leaving?” He asks into your hair, his voice groggy.

You swallow hard and clear your throat.

“Bathroom,” is all you manage to whisper.

He lets out a heavy sigh but slowly unwinds his arm from around your waist.

“You’re gonna come back after, right?” He asks, his voice soft.

You hesitate before getting up, unsure of what to say.

Are you?

You don’t particularly want to.

Well, that’s not true. You want to, more than anything, but you don’t want to overwhelm him and smother him with your clingy nature.

“Do you want me to?” You end up asking, glancing over at him.

He slowly opens his eyes, sadness filling them, and you regret asking.

“Honey... what I said the other day... to Buck... I wasn’t thinking, sweetheart. I don’t think you’re too clingy, not at all. I think you’re perfect for me and the way that things have been lately… All the distance between us? It’s been unbearable. I hate it. I didn’t know what changed at first but... I’m sorry.”

Your heart is in your throat at the fact that he knows you heard what he said.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I’m sorry,” you whisper, pushing into a seated position to get off the bed.

“Honey, wait. Please. Please, don’t go. I miss you. So damn much. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were. And... I know that will probably take time, but I just miss you so fucking much.”

Tears prickle at your eyes and you sniffle, refusing to look at him.

“I didn’t mean to be clingy. I know... I know I can be a lot. It’s one of the issues Jeremy and I had. I can give you space, Steve.”

His heart cracks and he sits up behind you, one hand finding your lower back in an attempt to get closer to you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want space. You’ve given me space and it’s been the worst experience of my life. I just want you back. I want to hold your hand and kiss you and talk to you and be near you. I love you and you... you make me feel important. You make me feel loved.”

He has to fight his own tears as he speaks, and you sit silently in front of him, eyes focused on the carpet.

“For so much of my life, I felt alone, besides Bucky. I felt like I had no one and no one would love me. And then I went under and I woke up and... everything was different. I was a man out of time. I never thought I would ever have found someone who loves me as wholly as you do. And I’m sorry for ever making you feel like you need to change yourself.”

His arms wind around you and he pulls your back against his chest, slowly rocking you from side to side as you sniffle.

“You are everything I have ever wanted and more, sweetheart. I love you for everything you are and everything you do, and I’m so damn sorry I ever made you feel like you were too clingy. You’re perfect for me. Sometimes I think that you’re the reason why I survived it all. Was so that I could find you. You’re it for me.”

His words help to heal the wounds he caused, but what really does it is the meaning behind it. The love he’s pouring into every syllable he speaks is powerful enough for you to feel without even trying.

You know he regrets what he said. But, more importantly, you know he’s not Jeremy.

Steve loves you.

Slowly, you turn in his arms and look up at him, and his heart breaks even more when he sees the tears on your cheeks.

“If I’m ever too much, you gotta promise to let me know, okay?” You whisper.

He huffs out a weak laugh and shakes his head, squeezing you to his chest.

“You are never too much for me. You’re everything I could ever want or need and so much more. You’re perfect for me. And I’m gonna try my hardest to be good enough for you because I love you. I love you with my whole heart and soul.”

“I love you too, Steve,” you whisper, burying your face in his shoulder as he hugs you tightly.

And there on the bed in the dim morning light, Steve clings to you.

He clings to you like you’re his lifeline, like you’re the energy that keeps him going.

He clings to you, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

They’ve got the little window over the sink open and Bobby keeps calling through it, asking for ingredients, utensils. Eddie clatters around the cabinet by the fridge.

“Third shelf,” Bobby says again, elbow on the sill. It doesn’t help any more than the first time he said it.

“I don’t even- Bobby, I don’t know what I’m looking for. Just- you can’t just use a normal spatula?”

“The flexibility and sharp edge of a fish spatula,” Bobby says, also for the second time, with a strained sort of patience, “Is perfect for sliding under-”

Buck’s arm reaches over Eddie’s shoulder and plucks a long slotted spatula from Bobby’s elaborate and baffling collection. “Got it.” He kisses the side of Eddie’s head as he keeps moving, lips catching the top of his ear. “It’s better for-”

“Pancakes, fritters, any sort of delicate patty, yeah, yeah, I heard.”

Bobby and Buck grin at him with identical raised eyebrows, it's kind of uncanny. “He’s not hopeless after all.”

“I do my best,” Buck says, smacking Eddie on the back and heading towards the door. “He’s come a long way.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “I don’t have to keep handing you shit. We’re not at work. I could make you walk inside every time.”

Bobby grins wider. “And I could give you all the burnt tater tots.”

Eddie pouts. “I’m reporting you to HR for unfair retaliation in response to labor concerns.”

“We’re not at work,” Bobby says, serenely. “Hand me the tenderizer.”

Eddie was sent in here, originally, like half an hour ago, to cut up the two giant watermelons Hen and Karen had brought direct from the farmers market, but he’d only got the knife halfway through the first one when the side quests started coming. He finally returns to the cutting board as Buck and Bobby’s voice drift further away, towards the grill. He cuts the thing in half and then stares at it so long he jumps a foot in the air when Maddie suddenly appears next to him.

“Woah,” she laughs. “What secrets of the universe does that watermelon hold?”

Eddie coughs out a chuckle. “I was just- debating the best shape to eat.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Big choice. Little cubes? Little cubes are nice. Or, like, slices?”

“I’ve always been a fan of a nice wedge.”

Maddie makes a triangle shape with her hands. “It is a classic.”

“Kind of makes your plate top heavy, though.”

“You’ve got two watermelons,” she points out.

“Wedges and cubes,” Eddie nods. “I like your way of thinking.”

She grabs a bowl from a different cupboard — why does everyone know this kitchen so well already? This is the new Grant-Nash residence house warming party, Eddie’s got lost on the way to the bathroom like three times since he got here — as he cubes the first melon. “How was the movie?”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t you and Buck go see Conclave earlier? The trailer looked interesting.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie scoops the cubes into the bowl and rinses his hands off before starting in on wedges.

Maddie laughs behind him. “… and how was it?”

“Oh! Uh- yeah, I mean- you know, horror movies, they’re fun.”

Maddie tilts her head. “Wait, wasn’t that one a drama?”

“Uh-”

“Wait.” She wrinkles her nose. “Were you just- were you making out with my brother literally the whole time?”

Eddie, hands up, gives her a bare teeth grimace of a smile as she cackles and whacks him with a towel. “Hey- I mean, I kind of looked up once, they were in some sort of- I don’t know, a theater or something? It was really dark in there? It looked kind of creepy.”

“Oh my god.”

“There’s a lot of Catholicism themed horror movies,” Eddie weakly tries to defend himself. “How was I supposed to know?”

“By watching it!” She laughs. “Why spend the $12?”

“My air conditioning is broken,” Eddie says sheepishly. “And it was 10 AM on a weekday, the only other person in there was 80 years old and snored through most of it.” He frowns. “Which also makes more sense if it wasn’t- I don’t know, I thought it was like The Conjuring?”

She laughs again, helpless giggles while she covers her face. Her daughter laughs the same way sometimes. “Don’t you have catholic guilt? Wasn’t that a thing?”

Eddie shrugs. “My abuela always says once I commit to something I never do it by half.”

“So, making out all through a movie about the pope?”

Eddie points at her. “Gay making out all through a movie about the pope.” He frowns again. “Damn, it was really about the pope? Okay I’m not- look, I’m not feeling guilty about that but, uh, if you ever talk to my grandmother or Pepa, uh-”

“I don’t think it would come up,” she says, patting his shoulder.

“They’re not- it’s- they wouldn’t like me making out with a girl during a pope movie, either, it’s not the gay thing.”

“I know, Eddie,” she says, more kind than teasing. “Everybody’s really happy for you,” kinder still.

“Oh.” His cheeks are probably bright red. “Uh. Thank you.” His ears burn as he busies himself with the watermelon again. “You know- I wouldn’t’ve got here, without Buck.”

Maddie comes close, presses their elbows together until he looks back up at her. “He deserves someone who doesn’t commit to things halfway.”

It makes Eddie laugh with soft edges, because: “I think… I’ve always been all the way, with him.”

She smiles so wide her nose crunches. “I know.”

There’s a tap at the window, and there he is, Buck himself. His nose is a little pink from the late October heat, he’s smiling real big. “Hi.”

“What do you want now?” Eddie’s tone is snappy but he’s sure his face is pure mush.

Buck sticks a thumb at Maddie. “Chim’s threatening to, and I quote, ‘eat five hundred tater tots,’” Buck pauses, presumably in service of Chim’s love of dramatic effect, then continues, “‘and then fall into a coma.’ So, like, if you wanna do something about that you might wanna get out there.”

“W-” Maddie starts to ask, and then shakes her head. She grabs the cube bowl. “At least he should have some fruit, too.” She flashes them a grin as she walks out the door, their laughter following.

When Eddie looks back at the window Buck has his chin in his hand, smiling at him. “What?” He laughs, ears hot again.

“Admiring the view,” Buck says, with the combination of flirtatious and earnest that Eddie has come to expect but is never prepared for. “Food’ll be up soon. Come and join us?”

Eddie leans forward over the sink. “Cap doesn’t need anything else?”

Buck shrugs, very close now. Eddie almost laughs wondering if he’s on his tiptoes in the dirt out there. “He can get his own shit. I’ll eat your burnt potatoes.”

Eddie closes the last half inch of distance and does laugh, right into Buck’s mouth. “We can share,” he says, magnanimous, because Buck’s always been all in, too. He can go halfsies, it’s only fair.

There’s shouting outside, Buck pulls back, drums on the windowsill. Smile, wink, turn. Eddie grabs the wedges, and hurries out the door.

(Ao3)

[munsonsmixtapes]

High shower sex with Eddie Munson?

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) obvious drug use

The bathroom became foggy as you and Eddie stood in it, the smoke coming from your mouths making it even more hazy. Your lips attached as Eddie stubbed the joint out onto the counter, his hands then sliding up your waist to move under your shirt, pushing it up and pulling it off of your head, tossing it aside.

The thing about Eddie was that being high or drunk always made him horny, not that you minded. In fact, it was what you preferred. You him do whatever he wanted to you and he was the same as you tended to always want each other so badly.

He was also needy and whiny when he was under the influence, but you liked that about him, hearing how pathetic he sounded always doing something to you, especially gettin you so wet you didn't know what to do with you.

"Need you so bad," he whined against your lips as he removed your bra in one swift motion, throwing it behind him before moving onto your jeans, unbuttoning them swiftly before tugging them down your legs, pressing kisses to your stomach as he moved down onto his knees, your cunt right in front of his face.

Before he could get ahead of himself, he stood up and turned to the shower to see that it was finally hot enough. And with that, he stripped then pulled to you where the shower door was already opened, pushing you underneath the shower head.

It rained down on you and you leaned back, letting it hit your head, loving the way the warm water ran down it. You then moved so Eddie could also get wet and he was quick to pull you under it, pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. His hands grabbed hold of your waist and he backed you up to the wall across from him, pushing you against it with so much force that it caused you to gasp.

He just chuckled in response and continued to kiss you stupid, letting his tongue lazily roam your mouth as his hands slide down to your ass, loving the way you gasped into his mouth as he gave it a squeeze, followed by a slap.

He hands traveled lower as he lifted you up to wrap your legs around him. Together, you helped him slid his cock inside you and you both moaned at the feeling, your minds suddenly fuzzy from the weed.

"God, I've been dreaming about this all day," he told you as he pounded into you, your back hitting the wall every time and he was quick to reach up and cup the back of your head so you didn't hit it.

"Me too, baby," you replied, already feeling blissed out as a result from Eddie's cock, but also the joint that was finally catching up to you. You had no idea why you didn't smoke before fucking more often. Seeing his eyes glazing over as he stared down at you, looking as if he was going to eat you alive was going to live in your head rent free for the rest of your life.

"I was thinking about the exact thing all morning. And you're more than exceeding my expectations."

"You look so fucking hot on my cock. And jesus christ, doll, saying things like that makes me feel like I'm already close." He whined as he pounded into you with even more force, watching you crumble in his arms, already looking you were spent.

"Well come on then, let's get you there," you responded as you bucked your hips against his as hard as you could, continuing the motion until you watched him reach his peak, a loud moan leaving his lips before he quickly pulled out.

Eddie then set you back on your feet and the two of you continued to shower as you both came down from your high, deciding that you could have stayed there forever as long as you were in each other's company.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Previous Chapter. Next Chapter. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

Tag List -

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tag list continued here <3

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

Curls | Bucktommy

In the bathroom, Buck is grimacing in the mirror, swiping his hands back and forth over his freshly cut hair. His eyebrows are furrowed with indecision; was this a good idea? He hears the front door open.

“Evan? Where are you?” Tommy voices rings out.

“Up here,” Buck calls back, he closes the bathroom door most of the way before Tommy gets up there.

“Oh there you are, what are you doing?” Tommy tries to push open the door but Buck stops him.

“I got a haircut from the place Hen suggested. You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?” Buck’s voice is hesitant.

“I promise I won’t laugh, did they botch it?” Tommy replies with total sincerity. This time Tommy can open the door and step into the bathroom. He examines Buck’s hair, very relieved it actually isn’t botched or a buzzcut.

Tommy takes it in and can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips. His boyfriend looks damn fine; curls in full force and not reigned in like how Buck usually styles it. The hairdresser added a fade making his neck look a lot longer.

“What? It’s awful. Your silence is making me nervous,” Buck rambles out.

Reaching a hand up, Tommy carefully pinches a wild curl and is surprised how soft it is, not at all crunchy with gel. His hand slides down to touch the equally soft hair on the back of his head. He absolutely loves it. “It’s definitely not awful. I always love your curls, babe. I like seeing your natural hair be free for once, and it’s so soft too. You look really really hot actually. It’s trendy for sure, but not in a bad way.”

Buck is still frowning at the mirror and rubs his fingers on the side of his face. “She even shaved off my sideburns,” he pouts and Tommy laughs.

“They will grow back in no time.” He wraps his arms around Buck’s waist and rests his chin on Buck's shoulder, watching him still fuss with his hair. “You know, it does make you look undeniably not straight, if that’s what you were going for.”

”Not really my intention, but I mean I’m not, so I guess it works?” Buck huffs drops his hands. “I’m itching for my gel, I feel so naked without it.”

“Don’t you dare. It’s just new, it’ll grow on you.” Tommy smiles, catching Buck's eyes in the mirror.

“Hey, what about your natural curls, huh? I don't see you easing up on the hair products.” Buck turns his head to look at Tommy.

“Shhh we're not talking about me right now,” Tommy replies and slides a hand up to cup Buck's jaw and kiss his lips. “I'm sure there's something in the pilot handbook about hair regulations,” he mumbles against Buck's mouth then promptly leaves him in the bathroom.

When Buck walks into work the next day he’s greeted with a wolf whistle from Hen, “Damn, Buck! I knew my girl would make you look fresh! You’re looking damn fine.” And he can’t help but smile at the praise. He gets compliments and light teasing from the rest of the crew. Maybe he can live with it.

One of their calls is at the famous gay night club, The Abbey, in Santa Monica. One of the cages that the dancers was in fell with the dancer trapped inside of it. Buck and Eddie had to break out the saw to get the dancer out, luckily he walked away with minor injuries.

They attracted a small crowd of the other dancers- all in skimpy speedo like underwear. Most of them had their eyes on Buck, giving him flirty compliments and asking if he’s ever been there. At first Buck was confused why he was getting most of the attention from these objectively hot men, especially when Eddie and his stache was right there.

Oh right, the hair, he thinks. The ‘undeniably not straight’ hair style he is sporting right now. He couldn’t help feeling a small blush creep into his cheeks.

His attention gets pulled back to one of the dancers, “Are you single? I know it’s really forward of me, but I thought I’d shoot my shot.” At least he’s polite about blatantly hitting on him.

“Oh wow I’m really flattered but yeah, I am taken,” Buck says proudly. He takes out his phone and shows the dancer and his friends his phone lock screen - a selfie of him and Tommy from one of their recent dates. Buck is laughing and Tommy is smirking at the camera with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Oh my God! I know that guy! That’s Mr. August from the 2019 LAFD calendar! I’ll never forget that year,” one of the dancers muses.

“Lucky bastard,” another one says to Buck, which makes his smile grow wider.

Tommy’s phone pings with a picture from Chimney, which there is no doubt this was his idea. It’s of Buck in the middle of a row of speedo clad club dancers. He doesn’t have his jacket on, so it’s just the fire T-shirt with red and yellow suspenders and the turn out pants. He’s holding an ax resting on his shoulder with the cockiest look he could muster; a sexy smirk on his lips with his left eyebrow cocked. The dancers around him are all looking at him, hamming it up for the picture acting like he’s the hottest thing on earth. Tommy couldn’t agree more and immediately makes it his phone background.

Yeah, the hair is growing on Buck.

[leossmoonn]

do u think you could write something for mikey humping the bed while eating out the reader ☺️

18+ under the cut - includes: fem anatomy

not edited so lmk if i made mistakes lol

just thinking about giving you head makes mike hard. thinking about how you respond to his actions, how wet and needy you get for him. he reminisces about your pussy gushing around his fingers as he perfectly hits that spot. he daydreams about how loud you can get if you’re alone while he sucks on clit. sometimes his thoughts of you gets so bad, he needs to excuse himself at work and relieve himself in the bathroom or a closet.

but today he held off. he wanted to get off while eating you out. so when you got home and abby was at vanessa’s, mike practically grabbed you and ran with you to the bedroom. now you’re sprawled out on his bed, chest heaving up and down. one of your hands tugging at his hair and the other hand gripping the sheets next to you. your thighs are enclosed on his face and you’re always afraid you’ll suffocate him, but he has one hand on your thigh, keeping it close, causing the scruff of his facial hair to burn on your skin as he moves his head.

from the moment he pushed his fingers into you and felt how wet you were, he’d be searching for a release. his cock throbs at every little gasp you make. pre cum spurts and wets his briefs as you grab his hair, bucking your hips up and pushing his face further into you. the way you moan his name as his tongue flicks your clit make him moan into your skin.

mike looks up at you, his cock twitching in his underwear. you just look so perfect with your head tilted up, eyes screwed shut and lips parted. there’s a certain glow you get when he eats you out. he can’t help but admire you. without really thinking about it, he starts to rut his hips against his mattress. it’s like his body has a mind of its own, but he doesn’t stop.

it doesn’t take him long to come. he focuses on the sound of your wetness moving around his fingers as he pumps inside of you. your juices are soon seeping out of your folds, dripping along the side of his hand and wetting the bed. you begin to move your hips along his face, essentially riding him as you begin to get close. your moans become erratic and you feel like you can barely breathe.

“mike, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you push him on further. “i’m close. fuck, mike. i’m gonna come.”

his name tumbling out your mouth is the last straw for him. he tries to keep silent and keep focused on pleasuring you, wanting to give you the best experience up until you start to push him away and tell him it’s too much. but if anything, him moaning and groaning makes it all the better for you.

you’ve been feeling the bed move since he’s started. hearing him pant and whimper made you throb around his fingers. butterflies erupt in your stomach as you realize what he was doing. all of it ultimately brings you closer to your release. you like to think that he’s not only eating you out because you like it, but because he loves it so much and it brings him just as much pleasure as it brings you.

your thighs squeeze around his ears one last time and soon you’re pushing him away as it becomes too painful for you to stand anymore stimulation. mike slowly raises his head, the bottom of his face glistening with you. you look down at his waist, seeing the tip of his dick peeking out. there’s cum on the bed and along his stomach.

“s-sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed. he always tried to save himself for fucking you, but he just couldn’t wait this time. you don’t hold it against him. you smile and take him by the hand, wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck. “i thought it was pretty hot,” you whisper into his ear.

he can’t help but blush. “well, everything about you is hot, so i couldn’t help it.”

you grin and kiss his cheek. “maybe next time you eat me out, i can help you at the same time.”

he gulps and nods, eyes widening at the idea. “i’d like that a lot.”

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next

synopsis: Toji takes up dog-sitting for you and learns to appreciate his new job, in more ways than one.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Time came and went with Toji’s frequent dog sitting. Despite the workhorse owner seemingly never being home, the dog appeared well cared for and happy.  The place became a second home for the man. On one particular 8:00 o’clock morning, he found a long note… and a hundred dollars.

“Mr. Fushiguro, we will be getting lots of rain this week, I can’t ask you to walk him like you usually would but if it’s not too much trouble, please just take him outside and let him go to the bathroom. I’ve got a raincoat in the closet by the garage, a towel for the dog, and umbrellas by the door, please utilize whatever. There are towels for you in the guest bath, I will do the laundry when I get home, please just toss them on the floor.” – y/n  

Toji had never seen a dog so thrilled to be out in the rain. A scoff shook Toji when he found the raincoat. There was no universe where it would've fit him. The dog bounded to the door and sat patiently for Toji to open the umbrella.

It had been painfully humid that day, the rain was torrential, and he was drenched, even with the umbrella. He normally wouldn’t use someone else's shower and he rarely ever did in his previous line of work.

Back then he learned that using his client's utilities gave them the strange impression that they were more than a couple bucks to him. He liked to avoid messes like that and preferred his own (much smaller) shower anyway.

Even so, when the dog and he made it back, the pristine floors and counters stuck out more than ever. He would have to be at the house for a while that day, he figured he should probably clean himself.

If it weren’t for the loving pooch, the place would look unlived in. It was strange to think that before Toji got there and after he left anyone occupied the space at all.

The shower had been better than he’d ever remembered having. He tossed the towels in the wash and waited around. Toji was making more and more, working back-to-back days and he had learned to expect the apology text,

“I’m so sorry, I won't be making it back tonight, can you stay till 10?”

Toji always responded by liking the message. Their text logs looked like a line of grey text with numerous “thumbs up” reactions.  

Eventually, the day came when he did not have a note on the counter. The first day where there was a sign of life in the house, a mess. The dog had been anxiously circling Toji when he arrived. Tissues on the counter, trash not taken out, fridge empty, and what really stuck out to him, no money.

Toji couldn’t care less about how the owner lived, but if he was promised pay, he expected pay. No matter how generous the owner had been in the past. He knew it had been an honest mistake when he texted for the first time in weeks.

“Hey. Dog looks good. Were you planning on going to the bank this morning?”

It took a while for him to get a response but when he finally did, they came in quick succession.

“Oh my gosh”

“Mr. Fushiguro, I am so sorry!!”

“I promise it wasn’t intentional, I’ll be back early tonight, don’t worry about feeding him dinner, I’ll Zelle you for today and tomorrow.”

He hadn’t been upset or anything. The owner had been more than lavish with their money, Toji has never been so flush with cash from so little labor. That thought was what caused him to respond,

“No worries.”  

Toji arrived the next morning and for the first time, was met with…. Nothing? Usually, the dog was quick with its futile tackle attempts. Not today I guess Toji thought.

Toji called for the dog and he came running; just not in the way he usually did. Toji noticed immediately, the whining, the huffing, the wiggling, and the ever-constant pushing at his thigh.

“What? What is it, boy?” Toji asks.

The dog let out a particularly loud cry and ran back to the master bedroom. Toji looked around the kitchen, the first room from the foyer he entered. No note on the counter. But what he did find was a half-full glass of water, a ramekin with a cocktail of pills, and an iPhone with a silent alarm on the lock screen. An alarm was set for 5:42. It was 8:17.

The frantic dog rushed back to find Toji at the kitchen counter with the phone in his hand. He whimpered, nudging Toji with his face. It didn’t take long for the dog to practically drag Toji by the pantleg to the master bedroom.

“What? What?” Toji was looking around the room to see what had the big guy so agitated. It would be a lie to say Toji hadn’t done some snooping around the house. He'd wanted to see how the lavish owner lived. It's fair to say that he had never seen the bedroom look so…disrupted. Toji came around the bed where a potentially human-sized lump lay under a pile that consisted of sheets, a blanket, and an exceptionally fluffy duvet.

                “Excuse me?” Toji knocked his knuckles on the dresser by the bed. Still not totally sure if there was life under all the pillows. “Excuse me.” He said, firmer. Toji raised his eyebrows when a long…noise… escaped painfully from the frump on the bed.

                “Hello? You paid me for today, you know?”

There was a shaky stretch he could see from under the fluff. Then, as though burned with a branding iron, the shape jolted up. Toji was struck by the view of the women before him. Screaming in shock.

                The dog began to whine again between Toji and the woman on the bed. You were making loud, unintelligible exclamations. The dog was licking at his paw.

                “H-hello???!” You were nothing like what Toji was expecting. But then again, he wasn’t sure what he had expected from the ghost that was the owner of this place.

                “Ms. y/n? You paid me to come today.” Toji had taken a step back, he was well aware that he was a frightening presence, especially for the seemingly young and unarmed woman sitting up in her bed.

                “Mr. Fushi-“ a cough “guro?!” your eyes stretched comically wide, and made to jump out of bed, but then you saw how close Toji was, and thought again, “I-I didn’t!” Your hands fly to your head, “Oh God….”

Toji stepped back a ways, he wasn’t sure what he should do or say. The women before him seemed… unwell, to say the least. Weak, for sure, cold too maybe.

                “But it’s….” You began.

                “It’s Friday, you paid me last night for yesterday and today, I can leave if you’d like, but I ain’t got the cash on me…”  

                “No, no, no!” Finally, you stumbled from your bed, seemingly no longer frightened by Toji’s looming form, you seemed flushed, and damp? Definitely unwell. “I-I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I let this happen, I swear I set an alarm…”

You spin around and almost slam directly into Toji's chest. Shrieking, you pulled back and stumbled on your own footing. In the same breath Toji grabs you by the shoulder and righted your center of gravity.

Hot. He thinks She was irregularly warm. He let go and stepped back.

There was once a time when a touch like that would mean nothing, but now, he feels unsure if it was the right move. This woman was nothing like his previous clients.

                “I’m so sorry! But… My phone…” Your eyes survey the desk by the bed. A thermometer sat idly by the lamp.

“I’ve got it here.” Toji waved the device before your eyes, “You left it on the counter back there.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen.

The meek women seemed to no longer fear Toji at all, snatching her phone quickly and moaning loudly. “Oh God!” You echoed.

You shuffle on your feet, unsure of which direction to turn, then finally decide to turn to Toji where he stands staring.

                “I- cannot. Apologize. Enough. Please, you stay here, I need to go, I am so late. I- Thank you, for taking care of my boy.” You were huffing. Stress welled in your form but you squeezed the sides of your temples and rushed to slip shoes on.

                “Excuse me.” Toji felt uncomfortable and out of place in this woman's presence but she was insane if she thought she could work in this condition. Not only due to her clear illness, but also, she was currently wearing a professional pair of flats, green and black oversized plaid pajama pants, and a thick black crewneck. “You… can’t work like this.” He made a face.

You look down at yourself. “Oh, I’m-I’m so embarrassed, and I’m sorry. I have extra clothes in the office, I can change there… I can’t believe this happened.” Your hoarse voice had scratched and faded significantly from the screaming you had done moments before. “Thank you, for waking me, and staying with the dog.”

                “Erm…No, I mean, you can’t work…like this” Toji’s hand motioned to rake over your appearance. Like Hello? You are not presentable. “You're sick.”

                “I’m-no! I’m on the recovery side. I’ll be okay.” You state, wobbling on your “recovering” feet.

                “I don’t think so.” Toji wasn’t trying to be pushy but it was laughable to think someone in your condition was anything but grossly ill. “I think you should call out.”

Your eyes jump at the thought. “I can’t, I’m sorry that this happened, I’ll be sure it won't again. I can't believe-ugh!”

Your exasperation was clear, and no, you were not recovering. You had come home last night beyond exhausted. You had left that morning knowing you were sick. You had left work early, (by 5:30) in hopes that sleep would help you body. But the exhaustion had overtaken you. You can recall taking medicine, placing some out for this morning, and then…. Flopping in bed.

Damn it. This was your fault. And after all the work you had done. The panic had settled into disappointment. And the large man that was supposedly your very attentive and efficient dog sitter was still in your bedroom. Staring at you. In your pajamas. Nice.

“Ya can't work like that. How about I walk the dog, you take the drugs you’ve got in that little cup and go back to bed.” He pauses and. Blood rushes to your face. He gives you a once over, “Maybe wash up.”

You were gonna kill yourself.

There were a million “no!” arguments that came to your mind but they were so jumbled in your fuzzy mind. Another reason for your self-induced frustration. The man was already walking out of your bedroom, your big dog in toe. Your boy!? The dog who hated everyone (especially men) but you?? He was leaving YOU for HIM? That was it.

You waddle back to your bed and flop face first into your pillow and wail. No tears come but the embarrassment and anger fill you so full you need it out of your system in some way.

Checking your (nearly dead) phone you find that it is nearly nine, you weren’t THAT late, this could work. But at the realization that you wouldn’t arrive until almost ten, and the sweat pricking at your neck, all the motivation to make it flooded from your bones. You work from home on the weekend anyway, if you went in today you would likely just humiliate yourself more.

You resigned yourself to the bathroom after taking some medicine, desperate to get yourself clean before the dog sitter returned.

Toji decided to take a slower pace on their morning walk. He had an odd feeling in his stomach. All he could that was that this dogs mom was not what he had expected.

It had become a game for Toji- to guess what the homeowner was like. A decrepit golfer with time for nobody but himself? An old, entitled maid, desperate to appear young? A middle-aged guy like himself, too busy trading stocks to feed his own dog?

Yet today proved that all of his ideas were wrong... you were younger than he had envisioned. You had big, full eyes and you had smiled so shyly while thanking him.

He hadn't meant to embarrass you but your face when he told you you were unpresentable just made him laugh. Your eyebrows knitting together, and your (already heated) facade seemed to rush with more blood. Your downcast gaze had lifted to show a pathetically self-deprecating smile. Toji laughed despite himself.

You had seemed small. But in the moment he had spoken to you, you had shrunk even more. No. Not what he was expecting at all.

And despite himself and his greed. He couldn’t help but hope that he wouldn’t be needed here for a little while.

It seemed like you needed to stay home for a while.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

pt. 3

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Come on over, come on over baby

More situationship!Simon x reader \( ' v ' )/`

Whenever he came home, he'd have you at his place in less than an hour. At the bar with friends? Doesn't matter. Just about to go to sleep? Doesn't matter. At the other guy's place? That definitely doesn't matter. Actually, it does to him. He likes to stroke his ego, make you say that he's better than the other guy. Because he is.

"He'll never fuck you the way I do."

His whole body pressed up against yours, talking right up into your ear.

"No one will ever make you feel as good as I do."

Arms constricting you, making it hard to breathe.

"Fuckin mine. Say it."

He's been a lot more... passionate lately. Don't know what's gotten into him. One day while you were out having drinks with the other guy, Simon pulls up, sitting at the other end of the bar. He stares right at the two of you, you sweat trying not to look at him. He walks off and you sigh, relieved. The other guy is yapping about a quarterly review when your phone dings. It's Simon. You excuse yourself, and turn your body to shield anyone from seeing your screen. Open the message. It's a video of Simon fucking his fist.

Bathroom. Now.

You're a mess. Nervous, horny, and a little ashamed, you excuse yourself.

He has you bent over the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Look how much you fuckin love this dick."

He grunts, one hand on your throat, the other pinning your hand behind your back.

"Don't know why you still see 'em, I'm more than enough for you. Or are you just that fuckin greedy?"

He bucks his hips forward so hard you yelp.

"Want me to keep fucking you? Drop him."

He pulls out of you suddenly, leaving you unsatisfied. The first time he's ever done that. He zips up his pants and walks out the bathroom, leaving the bar. Stunned and soaking wet, you don't know what to do with yourself. You don't even finish the date with the other guy, just make up some stupid shit about an emergency with a girlfriend. You text Simon, asking what the fuck was that about. He leaves you on read because of course he does. It doesn't take a lot of thinking for you to call the other guy up and drop him, he doesn't even ask for a reason. Says something about how he respects your boundaries and to take care. Respecting boundaries, that's definitely not in Simon's vocabulary.

You're freaking out, cleaning up every flat surface in your place. After two years and some months, he's finally decided to come over to your place. You've been practically begging for him to come over forever but you're nervous. His place was always spotless and yours was... covered in plants and knickknacks and books. He doesn't even look around when he steps into your place, just sits you on the kitchen counter, drops your drawers, and eats you out until you cry from overstimulation.

Cradled the back of your head to make you look down and watch him slide in and out of you.

"Only me and you, yeah? That's all we need. You're mine, say it."

He'd look right into your eyes while you repeated it. You weren't sure if you meant it when you said it, probably just trying to protect yourself from the inevitable hurt that is Simon disappearing again. When morning comes he doesn't leave, actually he stays for a whole fucking week.

"What's wrong? Thought you wanted me to come over. Only need me and you, yeah? That's what you said."

You try to argue but all your reasoning leaves as soon as he grabs your neck and kisses you.

"You said you were mine, you weren't lying to me, right?"

His voice low and dangerous. You thought he left again when you came to an empty apartment once. Apparently he was just bringing more of his clothes over. Every time you tried to argue with him to go home he'd somehow get you naked and on top of him. He'd smile, hands behind his head while he made you say you were his over and over. He wouldn't let you come until he allowed it.

"Don't think you mean it, say it again, and no begging this time, that's not what I wanna hear."

He was so mean. When he finally let's you finish, he'd pull you close,

"My fucking girl, no one else's."

[auroralwriting]

Consider: Bucky thinking he’s misplaced his dog tags, only to find that the reader’s been holding them hostage/wearing them because he’s (accidentally) ignoring her, and the reader knows this was the best way to ensure she finally gets his attention

attention

avenger!bucky barnes x avenger!reader (after tfatws)

bucky's been ignoring you, and you know how to get his attention.

word count: 1.5k | warnings: light angst but overall fluff

Bucky had never been one to keep too busy. He liked things low key, relaxed, casual. Even while Sam, himself, and you were reforming the Avengers, he always made time for you, his best friend.

Deep down, though, you knew you both weren't just friends. Late nights drinking beer and dancing were enough to tell you that you both were more than just friends. It seemed like Bucky knew it too, seeing as he refused to go on any dates Sam tried to set up or even download Tinder, which he wouldn't have done anyways.

After a long, hard few months of trying to find funding, Clint had suggested Kate Bishop, his somewhat protege, who happened to be rich as fuck as you'd later find out. After seeing her skills, you knew she was perfect for the team.

Kate was quick to suggest Yelena, who took a week and a half longer than Kate to convince, meaning it took her a week and a half to say yes after what she called, 'obsessive behavior' of finding her and begging her to join.

Now, the Avengers were back, and slowly becoming better. Sam was busy working out arrangements with the government while Kate bought the necessary equipment for you all. Yelena was focused on making the best uniforms for you all (filled with many pockets), and Bucky was focused on finding leads to focus on. You, on the other hand, handled the press that was looming over you all.

Even with all of that, Bucky made time for you. However, it was becoming apparent he was finding excuses to not see you.

It began with the excuses that he was busy with leads.

"Buck!" You called in a sing-song voice as you walked in the room he was sat in. "I just bought us a twelve pack, and I think Star Wars is calling our names." You smiled as you walked up next to him.

He barely even looked up from his computer screen, "I can't tonight. I think I have a lead and I need to focus before it goes off-grid."

Okay, that seemed totally reasonable. "Oh, of course. Maybe tomorrow," You smiled.

"Maybe," Bucky said, voice so nonchalant you weren't sure if he had even registered your voice. So, you said a soft goodbye and left the room, feeling confused and awkward.

The next time it happened, it was four days later. Bucky was sat on the computer again when you approached. "Hey Bucky, I was wondering if you wanted to take a nighttime drive on your Harley? It's been a while since we've ridden."

"Outta gas," Bucky's voice was monotone as he replied. "Some other time."

Immediately, it felt like a punch to the gut, which you've felt more than once and this one hurt worse. "Oh, yeah." You muttered as you walked away.

That night, you contemplated everything that had been happening. What had you done to upset Bucky to the point of avoiding you? There had to be some reasonable explanation to this, right? The only way to find out for sure was to get Bucky to actually speak to you again.

When the morning came, you woke up extra early. Bucky was an early riser. You weren't sure if that was from his time in the military or Hydra. You made your way to his room where he was absent. It took just a moment to see the steam leaking from under his bathroom door for you to figure out he was showering. As you looked around his room, you looked at the table next to his bed and saw your target: his dog tags.

Bucky never did anything without those on. They were a part of him, and you'd never even seen him without them on. Maybe it was a bit too invasive, but it felt like the only solid way to get Bucky to speak to you.

You carefully walked up to his nightstand and grabbed the tags, looping them around your neck and tucking them under your shirt. The metal was cold on your sternum, and you had to wonder if the coolness of the tags reminded Bucky of his arm.

The thought was quickly thrown to the side as the noise of running water disappeared. You quickly made your way out of his room, making sure to be extra silent due to his super soldier hearing. You shut the door as quietly as you could and made your way to your room where you collapsed on your bed, the adrenaline of it all making you feel out of breath.

You looked at the clock, six forty-three. The time began now to see how long it took for Bucky to realize you were the thief of his dog tags.

Bucky felt the panic rise on his chest when he saw that his dog tags were not on his nightstand where he left them after getting up. He had the same routine: wake up, take off his tags, and shower.

He searched all around the area to see if they fell. No luck. Bucky felt stumped about where they could be.

There was no way they could've fallen off at any point yesterday. Sam and him spent the evening sparring, and he would've told Bucky if he'd seen the tags laying around. Plus, Bucky remembered taking them off when he woke up.

So where could they possibly be?

They couldn't have broken and fallen off without him noticing, right? They were tags from the forties, there was a chance they just didn't withstand the test of time. Bucky always knew they were on him, though. Those tags were almost a part of his body. He would have felt if they weren't on.

Then, it hit him. The only person who knew just how much they meant to Bucky was you. Was there any way you had taken them?

Bucky quickly made his way to your room, knocking on the door a little bit harsher than he intended too. He looked at the clock that was hung on the wall next to him, it was seven o'eight. There was no chance you were awake.

The door opened slowly and a very anxious looking you. All Bucky could see was just your head, the rest of your body was hidden behind the door.

"Well, look who's come to see me." You said in a flat tone.

Bucky sighed, "I'm sorry, I've been busy. Have you seen my tags?"

His abruptness made you flash your eyebrows upward. "Your dog tags?"

"The only tags I wear," Bucky sighed, growing more frustrated by the situation as the second hand on the clock ticked. It was then that Bucky spotted a flash of silver from the small part of your neck. He pushed the door open further and was able to spot the chain just peaking out from your shirt.

Before Bucky got a chance to say anything, your eyes became watery. A small sense of newfound panic coursed through Bucky's veins. "You kept blowing me off," Your voice sounded small and fragile as you admitted your feelings to Bucky.

"Doll, you know I didn't mean too." Bucky sighed as you sat down on your bed. He was quick to follow, sitting thigh to thigh with you.

"But you were so mean," Bucky didn't think he could feel his heart break more until he heard you small voice call him mean. You were right, he was being mean, but it wasn't on purpose.

Bucky set his hand over your own, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. "M' sorry, Doll. I didn't mean to be mean." Bucky sighed, his head hanging in a sense of shame. He'd never meant to hurt you.

"Why?" You asked in reply, looking at him with confusion.

Bucky stuttered over his words for a moment, taking a breath to calm himself. "I realized that my feelings for you aren't just.."

"Friendly?" You offered. Bucky's eyes flashed to your face, surprise taking over his features. He didn't know you also realized it, too.

"Yeah, that." Bucky nodded. "And I got scared." Bucky sighed, his metal hand rubbing over his face as he took a shaky breath. "I never expected myself to feel this way about someone, especially someone so good."

You felt your heart melt at Bucky's words. "Buck," You mumbled, flipping over the hand that was over yours so your fingers intertwined.

"I never meant to hurt you, doll." Bucky reiterated, looking at you with a gentle care. "Please, forgive me."

"Only if you forgive me for taking these," You replied, hand slipping from his so you could take off his tags.

You set them in his hand as he stared at them. "You know exactly what to do to get my attention, huh?" His next move surprised you, his hands going behind your head as you felt the coolness of the chain relaxing around your neck once more.

"Bucky, no. I can't-"

"I want you too," Bucky urged, staring deep into your eyes. "They're yours. I'm yours."

You felt your heart warm at his words. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything, doll." Bucky replied, a soft smile playing his lips as you enclosed your fist around the tags.

"I'll guard them with my life," You promised.

Bucky exhaled, "I know you will."

[merbear25]

Zoro, Ace, and Shanks failing the pull-out game?😭 like they accidentally cum inside of you

Hello, hello! Oh boy, oh boy this is quite the scenario to consider. Thank you for giving me something to think about late at night. I hope you like what I’ve written for you. 💜💜

p.s. This is the first thing I’ve ever written for Shanks, so I hope it suits him.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, creampie, fem!reader in mind but nothing specific mentioned, headcanons/scenarios

When their pull-out game is weak (Zoro, Ace, Shanks)

Zoro

He was always careful and on point when it came to his timing, but the way you were writhing under him on top of those whimpers and moans brought his orgasm on more quickly than anticipated.

There was an attempt at focusing his thoughts on something else, though it was all in vain when he gazed down at your arched form and was graced with the pleasure soaked mewls dripping from your quivering lips. A sharp inhale coupled with a “Fuck!” snapped you out of the moment. With his face burning red, he pulled out and averted his gaze.

You took a moment to come to before consoling him, “Don’t worry about it. These things happen.” You placed soft pecks down his sun kissed chest while reveling in the way his chest rose and fell.

With each kiss, you further fanned the flames deep within him which was made apparent by the slight twitching of his cock. “You know, you never got to finish properly,” his voice was already heavy with newfound desire.

Smirking at him, you revealed the still trickling cum between your legs. “Are you going to double stuff me this time?” You teased before he roughly pulled you closer for round two.

Ace

One of the things both of you enjoyed most about your relationship was the spontaneity: finding little corners and rooms to bang a quicky out or having a disagreement turn into a lengthy, steamy session.

Typically you used condoms to avoid any accidental slip-ups, but this time around you were unprepared and desperate for each other. Hoisting you up on the counter in the bathroom, his kiss was searing. As he roughly tugged your underwear off and bit gently at your lower lip, you were begging for him to put it in.

After just the first few thrusts, you were unraveling on him—a complete and utter mess from the sensation of him pounding into you.

He tended to be pretty good at pacing himself, ensuring you had got your fill well before he followed suit, but the way your body tightened around him was testing his self-restraint. When he started pulling back to collect himself, your legs wrapped around him, which forced him deeper.

Your desperation for him, your nails raking down his back, and the way you squeezed him for everything he was worth: it was all too much for him. With one last buck of his hips and a guttural moan, he spilled every last drop of cum inside you. He murmured an apology against your neck before pulling out to witness the mess you two made.

Shanks

You both enjoyed taking your time when it came to the bedroom. Having that sensual build-up leading to the main event made everything feel that much more intense. With light touches and deep kisses, it was easy to get carried away every now and then.

He wasn’t really the best at timing—typically waiting until the last second to pull out. However, it didn’t bother you all that much because he still managed to shoot his load outside of you, preferably on your stomach or ass.

The real challenge for him was when you were on top. The hypnotic way you bounced up and down on him, the sensual groping of your own body, and those moans that trailed past your sweet lips: they were a recipe for disaster.

You really knew how to put on a show for him, putting every fiber of his being to the test with your tempting display. With his breaths becoming labored and his grip on your hip tightening, you could tell he was close, but you were still waiting for him to tell you when it was too much.

As you picked up the pace to focus on your own release, as well, you heard him groan, “Oh, shit!” before tossing you to the side. He gripped his cock to finish off his climax but had already leaked a fair amount into you first. He apologized and you both realized you may be better off sticking to condoms.