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#i mean the shit i had to do is laundry - but that still needs doing! i still have to walk half an hour to the laundrette!
jujustu-kissing · 3 hours
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..more crumbs of toxic toji plz I need that in my life
Toxic Toji pt.2
You were having a peaceful day, you really were. The simple chores around your place were getting done and you felt accomplished because sometimes it's the small victories like finally doing your laundry that give you a boost.
It's just too bad that Toji has decided to keep you company in the laundry room as well. You don't even know why you keep letting him into your place at this point but whatever, you wouldn't let him ruin your day or your night for that matter since the only reason you bothered doing laundry today was to go out later tonight anyway.
He was somewhat easy to ignore at first with his comments about your ass when you would bend over to put more clothes into the dryer, but then he got a little bolder.
"Going somewhere tonight doll?"
The hand resting on your hip really should've been a warning of what was to come so really it's your own fault... Or that's what Toji says anyway. You just look too cute like this, trying to ignore him and actually get shit done, like who do you think you are, do you actually think he didn't notice the type of clothes you're putting in the wash right now silly girl? Now it's pretty much his mission to get you to stay home, and what better way than his go to?
There was no way you still mad at him for ... Uh what was it again? He can barely keep track anymore since he always knows how to make you forget too so no real reason to even care about why you're mad at him.
You look cute when you're mad anyway, your adorable face scrunches up when he picks you up sitting you on top of the washing machine clearly trying to stay mad but Toji has other plans.
"Aww, don't be like that. Let me make it up to you."
It's what he always says, and he never even means it really. It's just his polite way of saying let's just fuck until you're not mad anymore and it shouldn't work but... It's hard to be mad at Toji with him between your legs, desperately sucking at your clit and pushing his tongue into your pussy like an animal while he teases you.
"See, there she is. There's my good girl, just had to get some of that attitude out of you."
His kiss is overpowering and sloppy as always feeling his tongue invade your mouth still tasting yourself on his lips.
It's all so overwhelming and yet you can't bring yourself to stop him, you can't stop yourself from wanting him and worst of all he knows it.
The tip of his dick slowly pushing into you barely gives you enough time to really prepare before he's grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to the edge of the washer stretching you out. You really should be used to it by now but it's too much, it always is not that he cares though keeping one hand holding your hips steady as the squeezes at your breasts.
"Always take me so well, pussy was made for me."
It's ironically easier to ignore Toji now than more than ever as your mind truly does get a little hazy in these moments barely able to even register his words anymore. The steady rocking of his hips against yours shaking the washing machine supporting your weight slowly unravelling you as his blunt tip bullies into your sensitive bundle of nerves.
It's always like he's on a mission, to not just fuck you but to fuck you to sleep. But it's only because he knows he has to, otherwise you might try to kick him out and then where would he sleep tonight?
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bagofshinyrocks · 4 months
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Government name vs Military callsign
Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?
Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 0.9k
Warnings: none
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John Price
Government name.
Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.
“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”
Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.
“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”
“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”
He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.
“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”
When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.
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Simon Riley
Military callsign.
When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.
“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”
“Fuck you callin’ me that for?” 
Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.
“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.
“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”
Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. 
A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.
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Kyle Garrick
Government name.
He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.
“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”
Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.
If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?
“Kyle Ga-”
“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”
You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”
He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”
“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”
He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room. 
“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.
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John MacTavish
Military callsign.
He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.
Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.
“SOAP!”
Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.
“JOHNNY!”
“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.
“C’mere, c’mere.”
He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”
You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”
He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”
“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”
“You called me Soap.”
“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”
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Posted: 2023 Dec 10
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strangersmunsons · 2 months
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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 2 Prompt: Chocolates 🍫 ~ 2,000 words Eddie's grumpy until he sees a familiar face in the candy aisle.
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“This is a fake holiday,” mumbles Eddie as he pushes the cart past the pink and red aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy. 
His uncle chuckles. “When you have someone to spend it with, you’ll feel differently.”
“Wayne,” Eddie deadpans, “this is just some bullshit that Hallmark made up so they could take more of our money.”
“I’m not sayin’ you need to go all commercial,” Wayne clarifies. “I just mean that when there’s someone special in your life, boy, you might be in a better mood during this month.”
Eddie’s mouth sets bitterly. He’d rather not get the ‘you’ll find someone someday’ talk right now — the last thing he needs is another reminder of how lonely he is.
Wayne senses his nephew’s reluctance to discuss the matter, and so bites his tongue. Instead, he points at a row of cans on the shelf beside them. “Do you need more tomato soup, or are you set for a while?”
~
Back at home, Eddie lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, okay, maybe Wayne had a point. Maybe he’d hate all this stupid cutesy shit less if he didn’t have to watch everyone around him enjoy it while he spent yet another Valentine’s Day alone in his uncle’s trailer, with no one to keep him company, save for a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
The worst part of it is — and Eddie would rather die than admit this — that deep down, he thinks he really could be…romantic. 
Sure, he’s rough around the edges. He tends to be prickly, wary of others’ intentions, but it’s necessary in order for him to survive in Hawkins. The Munson name was already notorious, and his reputation preceded him; the incident with poor Chrissy Cunningham three years prior, despite his innocence, had sealed his fate as the town pariah.
But if someone could just give him a chance, a real chance, he thinks that he could make that person really happy.
He’d help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, anything you — whoever you are — needed a hand with. He’d learn to cook better so he could keep you eatin’ good. He’d plan fun dates. He’d play your favorite songs on guitar, maybe write you new ones, if he was feeling inspired…anytime you needed him, he’d be there. He’d be the most reliable, affectionate, loving — 
“Ed?” There’s a light knock on his door. 
“Come in,” he calls back.
Wayne pokes his head into the room. “I’ve got to head to the plant in a few,” he says. “While I’m gone, can you do me a favor?”
Eddie sits halfway up, propped on his elbows. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Wayne fidgets, looking apologetic. “I know we were just there, but d’you mind going back to the Big Buy to pick up some candy? It’s Mrs. Johnson’s first Valentine’s Day since her husband passed, and I meant to get her something sweet, but I forgot.”
Eddie hauls himself up off the floor. “No problem. Want anything specific?”
Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t need nothin’ fancy, just get whatever’s cheapest that still looks nice.”
“That’s the Munson way,” Eddie muses, smiling in spite of himself. 
~
Eddie reluctantly makes a turn down the seasonal aisle he had so pointedly avoided earlier, feeling depressed. Cherubs and teddy bears seem to mock him from where they sit, and he heaves a dramatic sigh. 
His eyes roam the line of cards, plush toys, endless boxes of chocolates and candies, when they finally land on you, also perusing the rows of heart-shaped packages.
Recognition flickers instantly. Eddie suddenly finds that his heart is beating very quickly in his chest.
You.
You had still been a year behind him when he finally graduated, and though he didn’t really know you-know you, he was friends with people who did. You weren’t bullied like he and the guys were, but you weren’t exactly popular, either — and so more often than not, you ran in similar circles. Gareth and Harry used to swear up and down that you were the nicest girl in Hawkins.
Because of them, he had spent brief moments with you from time to time. He thought you had been very pretty, in your own unique way, but you were also rather shy. Your exchanges were always polite and charming, even if they never broke deeper than surface-level; overall, he’d found you incredibly endearing.
He never kept in touch, but as the years went by, he had often wondered about you.
Back then, it was hard to see past his own preoccupations: he was so focused on not failing his classes, Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, his dealing gig with Rick. But in retrospect, it always seemed to him like he had missed out on something special in not taking the time to properly befriend you.
Now, against all odds, you’re right here in front of him. And he had found you attractive back then, but now? Holy shit. You’re striking to look at.
As he studies your side profile, he thinks, it’s not that your appearance has really changed much, but rather the way you seem to be holding yourself.
You used to walk quickly through the hallways with your shoulders hunched and your head down, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. But now your posture is relaxed, your stance casual; your head is held high and a slight smile turns up the corners of your lips. And your clothes seem different too, like maybe you’d finally found your personal style, and were dressing in the way that you truly liked.
Is this what they call kismet? Fate, destiny, whatever, maybe Eddie’s fantasy-oriented brain was jumping to conclusions, but he thinks of the floor-misery he’d been wallowing in not even an hour ago — had his internal bitching been an unintentional prayer, which was now being answered?
He takes a few cautious steps forward, trying to act natural.
You glance at him when he comes nearer and offer him a quick smile before turning back to the sweet assortment before you. 
Eddie stands next to you awkwardly, pretending to browse, hoping to see you make some gesture of familiarity, any confirmation that you might remember him as well as he remembers you. 
But nothing. The seconds tick by.
You reach for a box of chocolates and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He starts sweating. Any second now, you would pluck a shiny, ribbon-adorned package and twirl away from him, vanishing into thin air, and the moment would be gone. His opportunity would be over, and he’d never, ever see you again.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. His face turns crimson, but he blunders on anyway. “I don’t wanna bother you, but did you graduate from Hawkins High in ‘87?”
You turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, one arm still outstretched. A breathy laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I did.” You give him the tiniest wave. “Hi, Eddie.”
He could almost cry in relief. You do remember him.
“Hi.” He returns your wave, dopey grin unfurling on his face. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you just now. I didn’t think you would remember me,” you explain apologetically.
Forget you? Absurd. “Of course I remember you. How’ve you been?”
Your voice is bright, cheerful. “I’ve been good! Busy with school.”
College, of course. You had definitely been an honor roll kid. “If you’re in school, then you don’t still live in town, do you?”
“Nah, my university’s too far. I got a place near campus, but I come home every now and then.” You smile, and motion towards yourself. “Obviously.”
“Oh. Nice.” Eddie twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Are your classes going good?”
“For the most part. They’re stressful sometimes, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”
“Yeah, but you’re super smart. I’m sure you’re killin’ it up there.”
“I’m trying my best,” you reply with a modest shrug. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” You look at him with genuine interest, like you’re truly eager to hear about how he’s doing.
Oh, what to say. He opts for simplicity. “Bartending. At the moment I’m between The Hideout and The Attic. Although, I’m thinkin’ about trying to get a job at the garage instead.”
“You should!” Your voice is sincere, full of warmth. “I bet you’d be great there — I know you did a lot of work on your van.”
A bolt of pleasure runs through him. You didn’t just remember his name and face, but you recalled some minor details about him as well. He stands a little taller. “Thank you. We’ll see if it works out, I suppose.”
There’s a brief pause. Eddie moistens his chapped lips with his tongue. “Listen…”
Do it, you coward. If she says no, she says no, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.
“Um, if you’re ever home for the weekend, would you maybe wanna hang out? Grab a coffee or something?”
You look taken aback, but not displeased. Eddie counts that as a win. 
“Sure. That would be really fun.”
He flashes you a grin. “Sick.” Then it occurs to him: you came home for Valentine’s Day weekend. Surely you’re in Hawkins because you have a date lined up with some former classmate who swooped in and asked you out after he had gone, and that’s who you were buying candy for and —
“I’m assuming you’re busy this weekend, though?” You point at the treats in front of you. “‘Cause I see you’re here to pick up the goods,” you tease him cheerfully.
“Oh, n-not really,” he stammers. “Wayne asked me to pick up something for our neighbor. I’m just an errand boy.” He swallows. “Do you have any big plans?”
“Nope,” you reply casually, lips popping the p-sound. You pull the candy you’d be aiming for before he interrupted, a pack of Hershey’s cream-filled chocolate hearts. You nod at him sagely. “I am my own Valentine this year.”
You don’t need to be. I’ll volunteer. 
Eddie musters up all his courage, rocking slightly on his feet. “Actually, if you don’t have plans…like, if you’re not seeing anybody…would you wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” Nerves get the better of him and he starts pouring out word-vomit, totally oblivious to the way your expression is getting softer and softer the longer he rambles. “I get that it’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t know if you think that’s really…weird for a first date, or…if you even wanna go on a date with me at all, which if you don’t, that’s totally fine and I understand —”
“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” you cut in, giving him a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Eddie, I would love to go on a date with you.”
He feels like he’s having a fever dream. This can’t be real. Is this what manifesting is? 
From now on, when he wants something, he’s gonna go cry on his bedroom floor about it. 
Painfully aware of how clumsy his proposition came out, Eddie tries to put at least one suave move on you. “Well, if we really have a date tomorrow,” he says, swiping the Hershey’s from you, “then there’s no reason for you to be buyin’ your own chocolates. Allow me.”
Ten minutes later, both of you armed with candies and a phone number apiece, Eddie escorts you across the icy parking lot to your car. You grip his arm tightly crossing over a slippery patch of asphalt, and his stomach flutters in a way it hasn’t in years.
Okay, okay. 
Maybe there is something to be said for this stupid, fake holiday.
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thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist
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pseudowho · 2 months
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Thinking about...
...long-term 'too comfortable' relationships with the JJK guys, when all the weird/gross/silly things creep in.
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Pinning Gojo Satoru against a wall, having spotted an enormous pimple on his chin that you just have to get: "there's nothing wrong with m-- how dare you-- ow ow ow get off me--" "don't be such a melt, Satoru, keep still, that absolutely cannot stay on your face--"
Sitting on the toilet and chatting with Nanami Kento while he showers, and he wordlessly hands you a fresh toilet roll from the cabinet while he brushes his teeth; "thank you Kento" "mmmmmhm" and you continue chatting while you pee, leaving the bathroom door open. You forget to get off the toilet, so he brings you your tea there, while you continue to tell him about your day.
Laughing at Geto Suguru as he steps out of the bathroom after a bit of manscaping; "no no no-- go and get your razor, you're all patchy" "ah shit, really?" "yeah, you look like you've got a really bad gardener" "at least I try to trim the hedges..."
Plucking Fushiguro Toji's back hairs out one at a time; "OW-- dammit woman, stop doin' it like you hate me--" "--look, if you keep getting hairier, I'll just wax you instead, you're such a bear--" "--alright alright, I'll get your little witchy chin hair after--" "hey!"
Calling out to Okkotsu Yuuta while you're stuck on the toilet, blood over your hands and panties; "hey, Yuuta! Can you grab me some new underwear, and a pad?" "Sure!" Yuuta shuffles back to you, unfazed, as you hand him your bloodied panties to put in the laundry basket, "that bad, huh? You got enough stuff to last you?" "actually, I might need you to run to the shops..."
Creeping up behind Zenin Maki while she washes her bras in the sink, dropping a few of your own ones in, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek; "hey, hey, I'm not your washer woman" "yeah you are, such a beautiful washer woman" "psh...you're doing them next time"
Takuma Ino smiling as you curl on the sofa beside him in slummy old pyjamas full of holes (an ancient t-shirt of his, joggers you've had for at least ten years...), and you let out a fart; "sorry, sorry..." "don't be, I know you can do better than that" and Takuma lets one rip himself, sighing with relief.
Dropping your toothbrush down the toilet at Higuruma Hiromi's house; "ah, shit!" "oh, damn...just use mine" "eurgh, I'm not doing that!" "darling, be reasonable, I eat your pussy, we share much more--" "that's different--" "well by all means then, my love, enjoy your toilet toothbrush..."
Catching Todo Aoi taking a swig of milk out of the carton; "get a glass, jesus!" "whatever babe, it's just me and you here" "that is disgusting, unsanitary" "oh? I'll show you disgusting and unsanitary...c'mere"
When Kugisaki Nobara steps out of the bedroom, wearing your panties; "hey, they're my favourite!" "well they're my favourite too..." "yeah, on me! Get them off-- get back here--" and you dart after her, Nobara laughing as you try to pull your underwear off her, "help, help, I'm being assaulted!"
Catching Itadori Yuuji giving himself a scratch and sniff; "you absolute goblin-- go wash your hands!" Yuuji darts after you, laughing, his hand outstretched as you screech, ducking and running past him; "what, this hand? Come back baby! Where you goin'?"
Telling Fushiguro Megumi every single time you need to poop; "pause the movie! Gotta go poop," and he absolutely returns the favour, sitting on the toilet while you're taking a bath , "I'd wait...but I can't" "alright alright, just don't stink the place out" "I don't make promises I can't keep"
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yanderenightmare · 11 months
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Yandere Satoru and Suguru sharing a darling is what makes me OwO
Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru
TW: yandere, noncon, condescension
fem reader
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It wasn’t really that you were weak… You were just unfortunate.
Unfortunate – to have been placed in the same year as them – Gojo and Geto, the two most promising students Jujutsu High had ever seen.
If only you would keep a lower profile like Shoko – and not be so determined to become the best – you’d be better off and not wind up on your ass each and every day sparring with the two boys – who really were the best. 
But something about their high-and-mighty attitude just makes them impossible for you to ignore.
The way they taunt and jeer, grinning their shit-eating grins – grinding your gears to no end – forcing you to try about anything to just, at least once, come out on top. 
Like now, in the padded sparring room – where you, again, could only barely find a foot to stand on – with what ground you had managed to keep thus far, visibly only thanks to your cocky opponent allowing it.
“You sure you wanna be a jujutsu sorcerer?” Gojo asked nonchalantly, his lanky arms slung around your smaller body with ease, resting his chin off the nook of your neck – unbothered by how you tried and struggled to shake him off.
You were dewy-faced and panting already while he hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. And it only aided in making your head grow ever hotter with vexation. “Take this seriously-” You growled back at him.
But he ignored you – the same way he ignored whatever amount of cursed energy you tried fighting him with. “I mean… I’m sure there are a lot of other things you’d be better suited for.”
After all… the last thing you’d want is for him to take this seriously. 
“Tch- like what exactly?” You bit out, hating his suggestive tone though needing him distracted with the conversation – thinking it would be a good stall to give you some much-needed rest where you stood, trying to hide how tired you were – forcing heavy breaths into smaller ones that made your lungs ache for air and your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Your weapon had already been thrown to the other side of the room – burst into a shattered broken mess of fragments you wouldn’t even be able to butter toast with anymore. And it hadn’t been the first one. In fact, the entire arsenal had been turned to splinters, leaving you to fight the boy who’d broken them all with only your hands to spare.
“Oh- you know….” He drawled, thinking it cute how you tried withholding your exhaustion from him. Pulling you a little closer to his chest – snuggling into you while thinking – his tongue out in concentration before calling out to the other boy. “Oh- help me out, Suguru.”
Geto sat waiting his turn next to the door, smiling like a cat with eyes closed. “Hmm… something cute…” He began before answering. “Like a maid.” 
You sneered – eyes lowering into a glare at the raven-haired boy who still, without a hitch, kept calmly smiling back at you.
Gojo offered a small snicker, adding to the ridicule, before whispering. “Or a housepet.” His voice, low and mocking in its whispering, yet loud right at your ear – with lips brushing your ear in a way you could tell he was smirking like his equally grating friend.
And it all just coaxed another spur of much-unrewarded effort where you once again tried your best at getting free – another growl spurring up from your gut with a vengeance. “Shut up-” 
“Don’t you agree, Suguru?” The white-haired boy ignored you again – though tightened his grip in correspondence – his long arms thrown in a cross around your front with slender fingers curling, now almost painfully, into the soft flesh of your midriff – having lifted your shirt enough for him to touch your skin directly.
“Mh, I can see it… doing laundry, cleaning the house, making dinner-” The other agreed, standing up with an unbothered sigh, taking slow and soft steps over the white padding to reach the two of you – his shape always much larger, growing like a mass of something menacing – dark and towering and shadowing like some great statue – making you feel so unbelievably small. 
Pulling his hand from his baggy pant pockets, you flinched as it thumbed your chin to make you look up at him – all your struggles gone and almost replaced with shivers instead – now with feeling the intense weight of being not just outmatched but outnumbered too. 
Feeling all but swallowed between the two, an inch of regret steadily crept about your gut, quenching what former fire used to fuel your spirit – leaving you with only an intense sense of defeat and fear.
His smile split with teeth, and you paled in light of it – breath thin as he leaned in closer.
“You’d look pretty natural wearing a pretty kimono… waiting for your man to come home.” He whispered, and you swallowed thickly in return, looking up into his slim eyes, who looked down at you with that small smile of his which seemed to carry a weight that felt crushing.
You tried keeping cool – tried grasping for any semblance worth of calm you could manage – even as Gojo’s hands, warm and soft, gently started messaging circles into your sides – his lips still at your ear in hot breaths and playful whispers. “Sure, it doesn’t pay the same way being a sorcerer does, but I’m sure a girl like you’d be grateful for pretty clothes and a big house.”
Geto hummed in agreement, his hand sliding from your chin to cup your cheek – with hot breaths fanning your face making goosebumps spring to the surface – adding to the statement. “And a warm bed to sleep in at night.”
You let out a whimper then, with lips quivering. The atmosphere had changed – turned thick with something else, something suffocating – something that left you faint, both speechless and breathless – whilst you warily looked up into the dark set of eyes above you and shivered at the feel of the teeth behind you. 
“All in exchange for some cooking and cleaning,” Gojo murmured against your neck, pulling your body closer while it shook unsteadily between the two of them.
“Don’t forget the other thing….” Geto hinted beneath his breath, his lips brushing your silently parted ones with a smirk, savoring that terribly troubled look on your face with an amused one of his own.
“Right~ The other thing~” Gojo purred, also enjoying your faltering, liking the feel of your heartbeat quickening beneath his fingertips.
“What thing?” You asked weakly – warily – as though scared of the answer.
Gojo snickered while Geto answered. “I think it’s better we show you this one.”
You were on your back the next second – your wrists pinned beneath the strength of Gojo’s fists where he kneeled above your head – his black shades slipping down his nose as he stared down at you with his smile and eyes gleaming in a look you could only call crazy.
Geto was kneeling at your other end, still towering over you – with big hands spreading your thighs, holding them tight to keep you from kicking. 
Your mind hadn’t really processed the possibility yet – hadn’t really allowed it to sink in – but it was dawning on you now – rapidly – while watching the boy lift your skirt up passed your panties.
“Hey! Stop-” You squealed, trying to bring your knees together to hide yourself. But you seemed smaller than you’d ever felt now, on the ground beneath the two boys who just dwarfed you in comparison.
“Think of it as part of training.” Geto offered casually while shuffling closer – his hands holding you beneath the knees, keeping you spread. “As a housepet, you need to learn these things.”
“And if you’re still adamant about becoming a jujutsu sorcerer… this is a realistic field exercise too.” Gojo added, his eyes big and ice-blue, glowing with something that seemed to seize you by the throat as he stared down at the growing hysterics on your pretty face. “I mean, with a face like this, I’m sure both curse users and curses themselves would want a taste before killing you.”
Geto removed his jacket, casting it aside. “We just want to help prepare you for what’s out there.” He excused, leaning over you with hands running over your chest, undoing button after button while you squirmed.
“No, please-” You shook your head, eyes closed tight in a desperate wish to wake up – the initial disbelief of the situation quickly leaving you every second of feeling hands touching more and more of your naked skin.
You choked on it, never having felt fear quite like it – soon finding hot streams of tears rushing down your face where you struggled to find air.
“We wouldn't want you going out into the real world thinking everyone’s going to play nice with you like we have.” Geto mouthed – eyes thirsty while looking at your cleavage – his large hands cupping your tits over the bra, making you squeak.
“Stop-” You sobbed, but like always, both of them ignored you.
“I’m sorry to say it-” Gojo cut you off, bowing down closer until his eyes were but an inch away from your teary trembling ones. “But the real world doesn’t care about you the way we do and won’t protect you like we will.” 
Geto’s hands slipped beneath your skirt – his fingers carding into the fat of your hips, smoothly hooking his fingers onto the band of your panties before slowly beginning to peel them down your thighs. “This is for your own good.”
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skylarsblue · 1 year
Text
I still have more. More Incorrect Quotes.
(Accidentally had a lot more fem!Y/N than intended but it's overall GN!) Alex: What made you think you’d be good for the military? Y/N: I worked at a Waffle House in America. Alex: Ah, alright, that makes sense.
-- (Interrogating Valeria)
Y/N: Look, Gaz, you know me. I can't- I can't do it. Gaz: Why not? Why can't you interrogate her? Y/N: Because I'm a bisexual with mommy issues, Gaz. And she's as pretty as she is scary. I'm already not that intimidating, she'll laugh at me when I start stuttering and then I'll just be horny. It can't be me. Gaz: ....okay, I'll ask Alejandro-
-- Y/N: I just realized something...I had a bad childhood. Gaz: Yeah we know. Y/N: What do you mean you know? Soap: Look at how you stand! People who had good childhoods don't stand like that. Y/N: How do I stand?! Gaz: Like Ghost. Ghost: ...I don't appreciate the call out but fair-
-- Price: Where are you going?! Y/N: To either get ice cream or commit a felony, I'll decide in the car!
-- Ghost after watching Fem!Y/N do an incredibly risky move: I just...Is she blind?? Suffering some form of brain damage?
-- (Tw; Hollywood Undead unalive song)
Y/N: My legs are dangling off the edge, the bottom of the bottle is my only friend, I think I'll sli- Price: EXCUSE ME?! WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT?? Y/N: Wh- No Captain, it's just a so- Price: GHOST GET THE BASE PSYCH ON THE PHONE Y/N: CAPTAIN IT'S A SONG I'M FINE- Well I'm not bUT NO WAIT HANG ON-
-- Valeria: *screaming in spanish* Y/N: ... Gaz: Don't. Y/N, blushing: I'm trying-
-- (During movie night; watching Venom)
Y/N: *pauses on that scene where Venoms sticks his tongue out at the guy in the street* ....Hear me out- Gaz: NO! NO. Y/N: NO NO LISTEN, LISTEN- Soap: Let them speak. Gaz: Don't encourage this! Y/N, pointing at the screen: LOOK AT IT! LOOK! Objectively you have to understand- Gaz: NOOO, it eats people! Soap: THAT TONGUE IS THREE FEET LONG AT LEAST! Gaz: No, I will not be hearing anyone out! I- GHOST, Ghost, back me up. Tell them they shouldn't want to fuck the ALIEN. Ghost, looking at the screen: Ethically, it's wrong. Gaz: Thank you. Ghost: ...objectively- Y/N: AHA! SEE?!
-- Ghost: *bends over* Y/N: *silently flips out* Soap, quietly: Wh-what? What are you-?! Y/N: SHHH *grabs Soap's jaw and turns him to look* Soap: *slack jaw* Damn- Y/N: fuckingdamnindeed- Ghost: *turns around* Soap: So it's your turn to pick dinner, what're you thinking? Y/N: Oh I dunno, maybe something pork related, uh, or cake- Soap: Aha, yeah...cake. Ghost: ....??
--
Fem!Y/N: I am not the mom of 141, that's ridiculous. Someone: You make all of them lunch every day with fruit cut into shapes, IN PERSONALIZED LUNCH BOXES Fem!Y/N: They need nutrition! Someone: You color code their items- Fem!Y/N: Look, if you were there for the item mix-ups you'd understand. Someone: YOU ARE LITERALLY FOLDING AND LABELLING THEIR LAUNDRY WITH A SHARPIE ON THE TAGS. Fem!Y/N: *holding Simon's skull boxers, writing his name on the tag* That- ...oh my god I'm the mom.
-- Ghost, watching Soap run past: WHAT DO YOU HAVE?! Soap, grinning & sprinting: A FUCKIN' BOMB Ghost: NO!!!
-- Price: Y/N, this is Lieutenant Riley, you can call him Ghost. Ghost: Y/N, looking him up and down: ...you got daddy issues? Ghost: ....maybe Y/N: Cool, same. Pleasure to meet'cha, sorry life gave you shit. Ghost, shaking their hand: Ditto. Price: *concerned sigh*
-- Price, walking into the common area at 10 pm: What in the world- Gaz, Soap, and Y/N: *all in there pyjamas with face masks on, eating snacks* Y/N: *slowly keeps chewing* Gaz: ...heeeyy siiirr... Price: It was lights out an hour ago, what are you lot doing? Soap: *slowly raises another face mask* ....Self care, sir? Price: ... Ghost, walking in at midnight for water: ....what. Soap, Gaz, Price, and Y/N: *stop gossiping* Gaz: ....hey. Soap: Evenin' L.T. Y/N: Howdy. Ghost: *looks at Price with a face mask on* Ghost: ...*sighs and sits down* Pass the Goldfish. Soap: Yeaaaah, good man! Welcome to the party!
-- Shepard: Is anyone here straight?! Price: ...*hesitantly raises hand* Laswell: *pushes his hand back down*
-- Valeria: *angry ranting* Y/N, a captive: Stop being so mean to me or I swear to god I'm gonna fall in love with you!
-- Ghost: What in the hell are you doing? Y/N: Laying in the rain. Ghost: Why? Y/N: If I lay here long enough, it feels like it washes the sad away. So I'm gonna lay here until the sad is gone. Ghost: You'll get sick. Y/N: Better sick than sad, sir. Ghost: ...*looks at the sky, back down, sighs* Ghost: *lays down on the tarmac* Y/N: Got a lot of sad? Ghost: ...Yeah. Y/N: If the rain doesn't take care of it, let's trade sads. Then it'll at least be a different kind of sad. Ghost: Not sure you want my sad. Y/N: Maybe not, but I don't think you should have to handle your sad alone either. Ghost: ...alright. Y/N: Cool.
-- Price: Simon, it's three o' clock in the morning. Why on earth are you making chocolate pudding? Ghost: Because I've lost control of my life.
-- Soap, with a gunshot wound: Do I regret it? Yes. Will I do it again? Most likely.
-- Y/N after doing something so badass it would fit in a movie: ...DID EVERYONE SEE THAT?? CAUSE I WILL NOT BE DOING IT AGAIN.
-- Ghost: You kidnapped the prime minister's daughter? That's illegal! Soap: Okay, Ghost, but what's more illegal? Briefly inconveniencing the prime minister's daughter, or destroying 141? Ghost: KIDNAPPING THE PRIME MINISTER'S DAUGHTER, JOHNNY! Fem!Y/N: Do you guys have like, a water or something? Snack maybe? No?
-- Y/N: I think there's been some confusion. I'm not the one in trouble here. Enemy Soldier: ...What? Y/N: There are only four of you. You'll need more than that. Gaz, hearing it over the intercom: ...they're gonna whoop-ass but we should probably go help them.
-- Someone: Why are you doing their straps for them? Price: They don't like velcro. Someone: Just do it yourself! Y/N: I'm not touching that stuff! I'll get neurotypical cooties.
-- Y/N, high on painkillers: If yo leg get cut off, would it hurt? Soap, in a hospital bed beside them: ...DUH Y/N: How though? Soap: Cause your leg got cut off! Y/N: Where you gonna feel the pain? Soap: In your le.... Y/N: Exactly bro! How you gonna feel the pain in yo leg if- Both: If your leg is gone! Soap: Whoooaaa... Y/N: Bro I swear, we're geniuses. Ghost, on his last brain cell: Fuckin'ell.
-- Ghost, about to lose his shit: Dear lord, I know we haven't spoken in a long time but if you could give me a little patience-
-- Gaz: Do you believe in God? Y/N: ...Yes & no. Gaz: Yes & No? What do you mean? Y/N: I believe there is a higher power, I believe a God exists. But...believing in God? Now that...haven't done that in a long time.
--
Gaz & Y/N: *dancing* Ghost: Can you two be serious for five seconds? Gaz, bustin' a move: Dunno sir, can you have fun for five seconds? Y/N: *stops and looks at Gaz* Gaz: *stops and is filled with instant regret* ...uh, sir, I- Ghost: Tell you what. I'll give you five seconds...to start running- Gaz: *turns to run and sees Y/N already yards away* YOU LEFT ME?! Y/N: I WANNA LIVE!!!!
-- Ghost: What are they doing? Price: Arguing in morse code. Soap: - .... .- - .----. ... / .-- .... -.-- / -.-- --- ..- .-. / ... .... --- . ... / .-. .- --. --. . -.. -.-- Gaz: -.-- .- / -- --- -- -- .- Soap: YOU FUCKIN' TAKE THAT BACK-
-- Soap: Keep your eyes closed, I have a surpriiisee!~ Ghost: You did your paperwork? Soap: I said surprise, not miracle.
-- Y/N, on tiktok: FOR ALL YOU NASTY ASSES IN MY DMS- *shows the team* THIS IS MY TEAM. STOP SENDING MY DICK PICS OR I WILL SEND THEM AFTER Y'ALL. Ghost: You've been getting dick pics? Soap: Who the hell's been harassing you online?! Y/N: SEE?? THEY'LL WHOOP YA ASS, SO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!
-- Y/N, on tiktok again: Alright, backfired on me. For all of y'all who are now trying to be nasty by THIRSTING for my teammates, uh, no. Stop askin' for my Captain's marital status, I'm not gonna tell you. No you may not get my teammate's dicks, I will not be giving you their social media, stOP ASKING I KNOW THEY'RE HOT BUT NO-
-- (I've fallen down the rabbit hole of Karen compilations, so, that's why I thought of this)
Y/N: Goodbye sir! Male Karen: Fuck you bitch! Go suck off your captain you fuckin' whore!! Y/N: Sure, I'll do that, goodbye! Male Karen: Suck my dick, whore! Y/N: Can't! It's too full of military dick, you'll need to make an appointment, GOODBYE!! Soap: *wheeze* Gaz: Jesus. Christ. Ghost: I told you all America is shit.
(Bonus Note cause I can't put in anywhere else; on the topic of Venom + C.o.D. I know we have Soap in place of Eddie & Ghost in place of Venom, but hear me out. Y/N! being Ghost's host and Johnny being a third part. P o l y ! A u !)
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oneforthemunny · 22 days
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I heard something about angsty fics around here? Am I right? I'm not sure about the plot, but it has to be cowboy eddie!
Pretty please. Something about sweet girl keeping a secret, but a totally innocent one, just to not concern him. But he found out accidentally, and all was a misunderstanding. He talked to her really harshly, accusing her of cheating and not being trustworthy. Something like that plz plz plz
"Thanks, Gare. I think he's gonna love it." You whispered, cradling the landline to your ear. You could hear the creak of the screen door followed by Eddie's heavy boots on the wood floor, heart skipping.
"I gotta go. Thank you. Talk to you soon." You slid around the kitchen wall's corner, slipping the phone back on the hook as silently as you could, wincing at the small click of the phone settling.
"Hey, honey." You greeted, slinking towards Eddie sweetly. "You done already?"
Eddie grunted in response, stripping his socks, tossing them in the laundry room.
Irritation consumed you, though you tried to mask it. Eddie had been so moody lately. You assumed it was because of his birthday. He always got weird around his birthday, which is exactly why you were determined this year to make it a good one.
"Are you hungry? I kept your sandwich in the fridge, since you didn't come in at lunc-"
"-Who were you on the phone with?" A piercing, furrowed brow gaze met yours suddenly. Canopied by matted curls from a day's work, you could still see the deep lines on his forehead, furrowed.
"What?" You chirped, eyes wide, round in caught surprise. Shit, he'd heard you. How the hell had he heard you? You'd been so quiet, so careful, wanting to surprise him. The look of pure shock, it would be priceless.
You expected to see his lips curl in a smirk, shake his head at you, tell you something along the lines of, "c'mon, baby, can't get anything past me, y'know that".
It never came.
Instead, Eddie's eyes flashed in fury- hurt. Nostrils flaring in a deep breath he tried to swallow down, tried to keep his anger from flaring.
"Who were you on the phone with?" Eddie gritted, an eerie steadiness to his tone that had you shuddering, stomach twisting in fear.
"I-I was- I was just calling to check on my prescription." A stuttering of a lie fell from your lips, nails digging into the palms of your hands. "Just calling to see when I needed to go into town to pick it up-"
"-Y'know," Eddie huffed, standing to his full height, looming over you. "If you're gonna fuck around on me, you could have the decency not to do it in my home."
My home. The words, the tone of his voice, it sent icy waves of fear down your spine. The last time Eddie had called the home "his place" was before you moved in, since then it had been shared with the two of you. Our home, our place, ours.
"What?" Your own brows furrowed this time. "I'm not fucking with you-"
"-No, no, no." Eddie shook his head, taking a striding step towards you. "That's not what I said. I said fucking around on me." There was a beat, your face falling in hurt, his steeling in fury. "Because that's what you're doin'? Aren't you? Fucking around on me?"
"Are you out of your goddam mind?" It was your turn to scoff, angry and insulted. "Did Medusa kick you in your fucking head or something?"
"Don't!" Eddie's voice boomed, hand smacking against the doorframe, a loud echoing of a hit. You stilled, eyes wide, he'd never been this angry- not with you at least. Not at you.
"Don't you come in my fucking house, fucking around on me when I've done nothing-nothing but love you!"
"I'm not fucking around on you, Eddie! Christ, have you lost your mind?" You shouted back, taking a furious step towards him, the two of you in a stand off. "I mean, what is the matter with you? You think I-I'm cheating on you?"
"You think I'm stupid?" Eddie sneered, jaw tight. "You sneakin' around, makin' phone calls all day? Runnin' off into town? I might be a lot of things, honey, but dumb ain't one of 'em."
"You are dumb." You snapped bitterly. "Stupid, even. If you think I'm cheating on you. What the fuck is the matter with you?"
"Who is he?" Eddie's hands gripped the door frame. "Huh? I deserve to know. Who is he?"
You gawked, baffled, furious, embarrassed. Eddie thought you were cheating? Cheating? How did something so kind, so thoughtful that you were trying to do for him, backfire to this? It made you feel hurt, insulted.
"Who is he?" You scoffed. Eddie's face didn't move, expression not softening, not falling. You could feel the burn filling your chest, your nose, suffocating you.
Stomping over to your purse, you flipped it upside down, dumping the contents of it out. There, amongst the change and hair ties, you snatched the receipts you'd shoved to the bottom of your purse. Business cards, a small neon invitation, and wadded receipts from the party stores, balling them in your hand, flinging them at Eddie's face furiously.
"You want to know who I've been talking to?" You sneered, watching Eddie scan the receipts, face slowly falling as he read the item- a birthday cake written confirmation note order with the small note added, "Happy Birthday, Eddie!" in red piping. The date for next Saturday, his birthday.
"I've been on the phone with Gareth." You spat, trying to swallow the tears already brimming your waterline. "I've been sneaking around and trying to plan you a surprise party, because I wanted you to have a good birthday for once."
Eddie felt sick, a wave of nausea crashing over him, head spinning in a dizzying ache. A small invitation, "Shh! It's a secret!" in bold, funky lettering on the invitation, Gareth's address written below.
"Oh." Eddie croaked. His eyes met yours again, though this time, he wore the rounded look of shame. "I, um, I-I didn't me-"
"-You're a fucking asshole." You spat, blinking through tear stained vision, stomping up the stairs in a hurt fury, ignoring his cries and pleas that you cut off with the slamming of the bedroom door.
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43qh · 1 month
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hii! i love your writing so far <3 could i request some quinn angst (or jack if you'd prefer to write abt him 🫣) maybe like the reader overhears him saying something hurtful (calling them clingy maybe) and starts to distance themselves from him.. and how they would navigate that
of course! your wish is my command, darling
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quinn hughes x fem!reader
genre: angst
word count: 934
warnings: hurtful words said by quinn
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your heart pounds in your chest. you really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. it was a harmless act. you were going to bring clothes from the laundry room to his bedroom, prepared to help him put his clothes away. but the second you heard your name slip from quinn’s mouth, you couldn’t help yourself.
you really wish you had just walked away.
“i love her, i really do.” quinn sighs, “sometimes it can be a bit much though, y’know?”
you gulp as you stand outside the door, listening in as your body falls cold.
“i like my space, everyone knows that.” quinn says nonchalantly.
you had heard enough. you dropped the basket of clothes outside his bedroom door before grabbing your keys and walking out his front door.
quinn scrunches his eyebrows, hearing the slight slam of the door. he quickly hangs up the call with his brother and opens his door. his feet fall short from his steps as he notices the laundry basket just sitting there. he curses under his breath, surely you had heard the call. maybe more than he had wanted and less than he anticipated. it makes him run a hand through his hair, immediately calling you.
when his call goes to voicemail, he stares at his screen in ache. he understands. he knows what he said was wrong. he should have addressed to you first how he felt. you shouldn’t have had to hear it over a phone call with his younger brother.
he could only really imagine how puffy your eyes looked right now. how you would silently cry so no one else noticed. how you would wipe your tears as quickly as they came. his heart ached. he never meant to hurt you. honestly, he wasn’t really sure if what he said was true.
he enjoyed your company. he loved it, actually. and quinn was starting to fear the attachment he had grown towards you in just a year. your relationship was still all about navigating right now, and he wasn’t sure how to approach this situation.
his only logical thinking was to give you space. but it hurt his heart as days passed, and you still didn’t reach out. your distance was hard for him. he was missing something he didn’t know he would miss so badly. the way you always lingered around him and checked in on him. the way you made him tea to relax his muscles from a long day of practice. the way you would hug him tightly the second he came home from a tiring game.
he missed it all so much.
how was he going to fix any of this?
quinn didn’t have a logical thought as he rushed towards your apartment. clicking the elevator floor you lived on, approaching your door and knocking just three times.
when your door opened, he was greeted with an exhausted look on your face. your eyes widened, before your gaze turned cold and you turned your chin up at him. you didn’t want to appear weak. you didn’t want to seem like you needed him anymore.
“baby,” he says just above a whisper, and you can hear the strain in his voice.
you look at him, not saying a word as you cross your arms. he could feel how uncomfortable you were. it was tearing him apart.
“i’m so sorry.” he leans forward a bit, still careful not to enter the comforts of your home. he wasn’t sure he was welcomed anymore. “i know what you heard. i know i said shit that made it sound like i was tired of you.” quinn watches as your eyes turn glossy, avoiding his gaze at his words, “but i need you to know, you’re never too much for me. sure, i like my time alone. but that never compares to the time i spend by your side. i’m so fucking scared. genuinely,” he breathes out a sigh, “i’m so scared that i’ll get too close and ruin everything. i may have already done that, but you mean a lot more to me than you know. i said those things out of fear. i wasn’t even sure i meant them when i said them. and, now, i know i didn’t mean it. losing you for even just a few days was a price i had to pay to realize that, and i’m sorry that’s what it took for me to see it.”
his words sink through you and consume you like sponge. you’re soaking every word and digesting them like it was your own personal bible. like he was your religion.
you lick your lips, not saying anything as you hurriedly drag him inside your apartment. he doesn’t protest, loving the feeling of your skin finally on his, even if it was just your hand on his. he missed it, causing sparks to run through his body.
“i forgive you,” you look at him, still holding his hand.
“i’ll never make a mistake like that again.” quinn confesses. and it’s like he’s in a confession stand.
“i know.” and you do. you trust him.
“can i kiss you?” quinn doesn’t stop himself from leaning close to you, “i missed you so, so bad.”
you only nod, and he doesn’t waste time bringing your lips to his. it felt like coming home. it was a lock in time, making your head spin as you realized just how much you missed the way he tasted, the way he felt. it was electric, bringing you back to life all over again.
quinn vowed to never hurt you again.
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torialefay · 2 months
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📞 “Bye Basket” 💬
bangchan x reader (f); drabble, fluff
✨summary: chan is leaving for tour, which means having to leave you behind. he makes sure to do for you what he can before he leaves.
✨wc: 900
✨warnings: none
• “Christopher, let me innnnn,” you pounded on the door of the bedroom you both shared.
• “Give me 1 more minute!” you heard him panic from inside.
• ‘What could he possibly be doing that he wouldn’t want me to see? I literally see his bare ass every day,’ you thought.
• He had been the perfect little boyfriend lately. Cooking meals, complimenting you 24/7, and making it a point to cuddle you for an hour every night. Hell- the two of you had just gotten back from a haunted house because YOU wanted to go. There’s no way Chan would have picked that shit.
• But he knew how much you loved Halloween. Even if he didn’t.
• He knew how this was your favorite time of the year. Even if it wasn’t his.
• And he also knew that he was leaving tomorrow. Even if he didn’t want to.
• Tomorrow he was headed out to begin his next world tour, and although you were so so proud of him, your heart hurt. How could it not?
• You actively tried not to think about it, but it was hard. You’d gone through it before, so you knew everything would be okay, but it definitely would not be fun.
• “Okay, okay, okay,” you heard Chan say as he waddled toward the door. He unlocked it and pulled the door wide open.
• “You good?” you asked, still confused as to what was going on.
• “Yeah, look!” he smiled, swooping both of his hands toward the bed in a grand gesture to focus your gaze there.
• You walked toward the bed to see a small basket resting on top. Inside of it was… laundry? Just a bunch of black clothes. Albeit very neatly folded black clothes.
• ‘Proud of him for that one I guess.’
• “What am I looking at?” you raised an eyebrow.
• “Wellll, I know you wanted a Boo Basket,” he tilted his head to the side and opened his eyes wide, putting on a look as if to say ‘See, I pay attention.’
“But I thought with me leaving, a Bye Basket would be a bit better.”
• You looked back down to the small basket in front of you. You carefully went through the contents.
◦ Your favorite of all of his black hoodies. You remembered how his ears had turned red when you told him how handsome he looked in it.
◦ A small roller ball of his favorite cologne. Classic Chan to get you your own. Hell, he loved it so much, he’d probably be excited if you just decided to wear it now. Scratch that, he’d love that his signature scent had become yours too.
◦ 3 packs of your favorite candy. I guess he was well-trained at this point. He immediately got them for you every time he went out to grab something- even if you specifically said you didn’t want anything.
◦ A heavy silver chain-link bracelet. You carefully examined it, thinking it was weird he’d think to give you this considering you already wore this exact one. The one he created that says “STAY” across the front. He wore it often too. ‘Weird’… You looked down closer.
No, this was a special one. It didn’t say “STAY.” Instead, in his own handwriting font, the inscription “CHRISTOPHER.”
◦ A small polaroid photo. It was one he had insisted on taking a few nights ago when you were cuddled up on the couch. He gave in and watched a scary movie with you. Obviously it was such a special moment to him that he was willingly watching one, so he needed it to be a memory.
◦ A black… battery? Charger?
• “What is this thing?,” you asked, looking up to Chan.
• “It’s a battery extender. For your phone! So even if you’re out all day, you can still answer my calls and let me hear that sweet voice,” he beamed, obviously proud of himself.
• “Channie, this is perfect. You didn’t have to do all of this!”
• “But I did. I’m so so so sorry I have to leave you, my love.” He sat down on the bed, pulling you along to sit on his lap.
• “I’m so sorry that my job takes me away from you, but hopefully this will help suffice until I get back.”
• You cupped his face and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll manage.” You couldn’t help but smile.
----
• After Chan had left the next day, you went home to sulk.
• First plan of action: put that hoodie on.
• As you unfolded it and went to throw it over your head, a white slip of paper fell out.
• The final gift in the basket: a letter.
◦ “If you’re reading this letter, then it means I’m probably gone. I want you to know that wherever I travel, a piece of your heart is always going there with me. I promise I miss you more than you will ever miss me. I can’t wait to get back home to you already. This isn’t goodbye for long. I will be back before you know it. Love you forever. -Channie.”
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clockwayswrites · 7 months
Text
Bury the Years: A Desperate Call
WC: 1880, Masterpost CW: blood, mentions of hallucinations, depression, Jason's death and *waves at everything that means*: buried alive, canon typical violence, etc
Dick rolled over in his bed, dragging the cover up over his head with a groan. There was something sticky on the sheet. Blood, he was sure. Last night… last night had been a rough one. Maybe he should have patched himself up a little better before he had crashed in bed, but butterfly bandages had been all he had the energy for. So much for them holding through sleep.
To top it off, his damn phone was going off.
Why had he picked such an annoying ringtone again?
Right, no, Wally had changed it last time he had seen him in… in way too long now. How had it been so long since he had seen any of the Titans? He should fix that. Maybe after he was healed. They’d just look at him with those big sad eyes they always seemed to have for him these days if he showed up like this.
The phone was still ringing.
Hopefully whoever it was would give up soon or go to voicemail and he could get back to sleep. He knew he should get up and deal with whatever wound had opened up, but he was just so damn tired. He didn’t want to get out of bed. If he got out of bed he would have to clean his wound and if he was cleaning his room he would have to shower and if he was going to shower he should do laundry first so he had clean clothing but he shouldn’t do laundry without his wound fixed up. In short, getting out of bed meant having to do everything— having to face everything. It was much nicer in his sheets, even if they were a little sticky with blood.
The ringing stopped.
Dick let out a soft breath of air and tucked his face a little further into his pillow.
The phone started ringing again. Dick cursed, threw the sheet off of him, and grabbed the phone.
“What?” he snapped.
“Dick?”
No.
No it couldn’t be. He had… the hallucinations had gotten better. And they had never used the phone before. They were always just there. But it… this was… it sounded like…
“Dick? Are… are you there?”
It sounded like…
“Jay?” his voice cracked around the name, around his name. It sounded like Jason, his little brother, the one he had failed.
“Dick,” Jay said, own voice not doing any better. There was something else to it. It sounded deeper and rougher but Dick still knew it. That was still his little brother. “Dick, I… please… I need… I need your help. I can’t save him alone. I need you, Big Bird.”
“Where are you?” Dick asked. He stumbled over discarded escrima sticks and clothing in his rush to the bathroom. His hands shook as he dug around in the first aid kit for some fresh gauze. He could stitch it up later, he had to get to Jay.
“Crime Alley, where else,” Jason said with a bitter laugh that made Dick fumble the box he was holding. Oh how it hurt to hear his little wing laugh like that! Oh how it was so amazing to hear his little wing laugh again, even if it sounded like the laugh was clawing its way out of Jay’s chest. No matter how ugly the sound it was still laughter pushed out by air by lungs by a beating heart. How— “I’m at 3405 Dawson Rd. It’s a… I don’t know, used to be an office building or some shit, but it’s abandoned now. I’m up on the third floor. You have to get in from the outside. Back window is best.”
“Okay. Okay. Can… can you stay on the phone until I get there, okay?” Dick asked, no, pleaded. He couldn’t hang up. If he hung up all of this might not be real and Jay might be gone and Dick… he couldn’t go through that again.
He needed this to be real.
“I, yeah, yeah, sure, I can,” Jason said. There was noise on his side of the call, the rusting of that cheap sort of nylon material.
“Do you… do you need me to bring anything?” Dick asked, hopping towards the door as he dragged on underwear and then jeans that were clean enough. He tugged a shirt on then back off and rushed back to the bathroom to actually stick a new wad of gauze onto his side.
“Yes, no, just… just get here first?”
“Okay, yeah, of course, I’ll be there. I’m heading out of my door right now,” Dick said as he grabbed another shirt from the back of the couch and tugged it on over his head. He dug around for a comm, transferred the call to it, and stuck it in his ear. “You still there Little Wing?”
“Still here.” There was that laugh again that made Dick’s soul soar and sob in equal measure.
“Okay. I’ve got you in my ear now. I’m going to be over as quick as I can. Just… how about you keep talking to me.”
“’Bout what?” Jason rasped.
“Let’s start with a status report, okay? Are you injured?”
Are you still beaten to a pulp?
Is your head still smashed in?
Are you still broken?
“No. I haven’t been injured for… since… no. Just my palms a little scraped up from climbing in and out of this place, didn’t even bleed.”
“Okay.” That was… That was a relief. That was a good start. “You… you said you needed my help to save him? Can you tell me what’s going on with him?”
“Can… can that wait till you’re here?”
“Yeah, okay, sure Little Wing. What do you want to talk about instead?”
“Can you… that’s. Um… I don’t know? How… how about you tell me about Gotham? I guess. Not, I can’t do the family yet. Just… just tell me about the city.”
“Okay, well, let me tell you about the Gotham Knights last season.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse. Way worse,” Dick said and filled the line with worthless, mindless chatter as he raced towards the address that Jason had given him.
-
The building really did look abandoned. There wasn’t all that much too it anymore. The bottom floor was completely boarded up, but the barricade had been pried away over time. The insides were looted, obviously lived in once, and currently full of trash and mold and all the nasty grime of Gotham. It looked like the stairs were out. That must have been why Jason chose it; not many people could scale up three stories on a mostly gone fire escape.
Dick decided to go up the neighboring building and jump over. “You’re making me get my cardio in today, huh?”
“As if that will get your heart rate up.”
“Yeah, yeah. Become a super skilled gymnast before hitting the double digits and people think you can do everything.”
Jason’s snort buzzed across the line. “Can’t you do everything?”
“I couldn’t save you.” Dick hit the rusted fire escape with a clang. He was half worried Jason had hung up on him. Fuck he shouldn’t have said that. No, he could faintly hear Jason softly reassuring someone. “I’m at the window, can I come in?”
“…yeah. We’re on the room to the right. Just… go slowly, okay?”
“Okay. It’s just me, I’m alone. I’m going through the window now,” Dick said. He slid up the old frame carefully, searching his fingers along it to undo some classic Bat booby traps as he lifted it. Sometimes you really didn’t need more than some thread and something noisy like an empty can.
“Can’t get anything past you, can I?”
“Not when I’m the one who made the tricks,” Dick said.
The door was right there.
It was already open.
He took a breath and walked through.
That… that was really Jason. Alive. Alive and grown up, big as a tank, but Dick would know those expressive eyes anywhere, that slightly crooked slope of the nose, that furrowed brow. Jason was so big and so grown up, but still just a kid, hardly an adult at only nineteen. He was sitting on a pile of sleeping bags and ratty blankets on the floor with another kid his age curled up on his lap; a kid that looked like a touch would shatter him.
Dick crouched down, keeping his hands visible as he was very aware of another set of blue-green eyes watching him.
“Hey, Jay,” he said after clearing his throat.
God he wanted to rush over there and pull Jason into his arms. He wanted to touch, to have that last bit of assurance that this was real.
“Hey, Dick,” Jason said, the words echoing through the earpiece before Jason ended the call.
Jason let the phone fall, like he couldn’t hold up his arm any longer. It thumped loudly as it hit the sleeping bags and the guy in Jason’s lap flinched so hard that Dick was worried he had hurt something.
“Sorry, sorry lily-loo. Didn’t mean to let it fall that hard,” Jason said. He raised his arm (it looked like it weighed a million pounds) and carded gentle fingers through the other’s messy black and white hair.
Black and white just like Jason’s was, only all of the stranger’s white was on the lower part, like an under dye. Jason’s was right at his hairline, just slightly off center. Dick’s eyes flicked between the two.
“This is just my brother,” Jason murmured. “I told you about him, remember? Dick? He won’t hurt you. He’s going to help us.”
“That’s right,” Dick said in a soft tone. He crept a few feet closer before he fluidly folded his legs under him and took a seat on the grimy floor. “I’m here to help. I’d do anything for my brother.”
“Yeah,” Jason croaked after a moment. He took a shuddering breath and pressed a kiss to the other guy’s temple. “Yeah.”
“I mean it, Jay. What do you need? Other than, you know… the obvious?” Dick said as he motioned to the room around them.
Jason laughed that bitter laugh again. “Mostly… mostly the obvious to start. Somewhere safe to be. Something better to sleep on. Food. Food is the most important. Pillbug here… he’s not doing well. I’ve been trying to get his weight up, but I just can’t… I can’t do enough or do it fast enough. He doesn’t like it when I leave, but I’m afraid to take him out there…”
“Okay, okay Jay. We can work on all of that. Malnourished then? And hand injuries?” Dick asked, glancing over the bandaged fingers. “What else? What happened to him, little wing?”
What happened to you, Dick wanted to ask.
Jason glanced back up at Dick. His eyes were greener than before, Dick swore it. It couldn’t just be the lighting. Jason’s green gaze seemed to pin him to the spot, not that Dick was going anywhere, not with Jason back. He wouldn’t leave his little brother when he needed him again.
“He was alive, Dick. He was alive inside his own coffin. He was alive and screaming and trying to claw his way out of it… just like I did.”
---
AN: So! You all voted for me to make you cry. And it's Trauma Tuesday! Not sure if I managed it, but hopefully at least tugged at some heart strings! This whole fic is an OOF, ngl.
Not sure if this will be how it starts or if it starts with Jason visiting the graveyard he was buried in, freshly back to Gotham, and hearing screaming. :3 I'll have to see when I can next get back to it! Which likely won't be quickly, having a really hard time of it with my hands right at the moment. Stay delightful, darlings!
I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe on the master post. I don't know when this one will next be updated! This was a Trauma Tuesday Special.
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aothotties · 4 months
Text
Dont Piss Me Off- Sukuna
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📸:villain_lady on IG
pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader
CW: established relationship, angry sex, rough sex, cnc kinda???, ass/pussy slapping, dom!sukuna, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions breeding, pet names, lil tiny fluff at the end
wc: 1.8k
You tried your best to stay calm but the fact that you spent the whole day cleaning the house while your boyfriend, Sukuna, did nothing had your blood boiling 
He typically helped and you both split the chores evenly but today he played his game the whole. Fucking. Day
Tears stung your eyes as you continued folding laundry. You wanted to walk into the room so bad, tear the game off the dresser, and toss it out the window but you knew the best thing to do was to try and talk it out calmly 
After you finished the laundry you walked in the room and decided to confront him
“Sukuna, we need to talk” you said with your arms crossed
He didn't even look away from his game to acknowledge you
“Im serious we need to talk,now” you raised your voice as you spoke 
“Yeah okay, in a minute Y/N i'm in the middle of this right now” he said as he continued to stare at the screen in front of him. 
That shit pushed you to your breaking point. After working hard all day making sure your house is spotless he had the audacity to brush you off??
“See this is the shit I'm talking about. Fuck you ,Sukuna, you do nothing but piss me off” you stated plainly even though you were fighting back tears
He finally looked up from the game and shit you a puzzled look. He was shocked to hear you cursing at him, something you rarely ever did.
You were glad that he was finally acknowledging you but the fact that it took you getting loud made you even angrier.
“You're pathetic. You seriously mean to tell me I have to talk to you like this to get your attention? Fucking ridiculous”
You turned to leave to room so you could take a minute to breathe but sukuna stood up and grabbed your arm
“What's your problem?” he asked while he held onto you 
“Don't touch me!” you yelled as you tried to push him with your free hand 
He quickly grabbed your other arm and lightly pinned both of them to your side so you couldn't move. You tried to get out of his grasp but he was too strong. You sighed in defeat and looked up at your boyfriend, tears running down your face 
“I have spent the whole entire day cleaning” you said between sniffs, “and not once did you get off your stupid game to help me”
“Why didn't you just ask me to help” he asked bluntly and shrugged his shoulders
His response did nothing but bring back your anger. You couldn't stand how nonchalant he was being. 
You tried getting out of his grip again and tried to push him away 
“The fuck off me suku-”
“Stop talking to me like that” he said, cutting you off
“No, you made me mad. You didn't do shit all day now you're acting like it's not a big deal. Boy fuck you!” you said angrily 
“Y/N” he spoke softly, “i'm going to ask you one more time to not talk to me like that. We can talk about this calm-”
It was now your turn to cut him off 
“Fuck talking calm! I tried coming in here to talk to you calmly and you ignored me. Now that I gotta get loud it's an issue? I dont give a fuck i really dont”
Sukuna looked down at you and clenched his jaw. The grip he had on both of your wrists tightened and he used his body to press you against the wall.
He hated when you talked to him like this. It was the one thing that he hated the most about you fighting with him. Cursing in your everyday talk never bothered him but cursing at him? He hated it 
He dropped one of your wrists and grabbed your jaw to force you to look up at him.
“I just told you not to curse at me but you still do it” he said through clenched teeth
“And I told you I don't care,” you mumbled. It was hard for you to speak with his hand on your jaw 
The grip tightened and you knew you wouldn't be able to respond anymore. You tried pushing him off you one more time but to no avail. Your large boyfriend was not budging.
Sukuna’s eyes darkened and he sighed out in frustration 
“You just can't listen, can you? You refuse to talk to me in a calm manner and now it’s come to this” he moved his face closer to yours as he spoke 
“Get on the bed right now” he commanded 
You tried to speak to say no but the grip he still held on your jaw made it impossible. You shook your head no and never broke eye contact with him.
No matter the circumstance you loved challenging Sukuna. You always liked to see how far you could push him.
He wasn't in the mood for your shit. He took your arm and dragged you to the bed and threw your body onto it as if you were a ragdoll.
“Don't piss me off Y/N” he said aggressively 
Your anger turned to lust and all your feelings rushed to your cunt. He had pissed you off by ignoring you but your attitude pissed him off even more and you knew exactly what you were going to get in return.
Sukuna flipped you onto your stomach and crawled over you. He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it so that you were looking up at him 
“You know i don't like when you don't listen, Y/N” he said to you 
“And i don't care” you said back, knowing it would push him over the edge  
He kissed his teeth and pushed your head down. He got off the bed and removed his shorts and briefs. His hard dick sprung out and you squirmed in anticipation of what was about to happen to your body.
He harshly smacked your ass causing it to sting.
 “stop moving” he said before grabbing your shorts and pulling them off in one swift motion, taking your soaking wet panties off with them.
He roughly grabbed your hips and lifted your ass in the air. Your pussy was on full display in front of him. He could see just how wet you were as your pussy throbbed around nothing 
He gave your cunt a harsh smack and you hissed from the pain mixed with pleasure.
Sukuna got back on the bed behind you and lined his bright pink tip with your needy hole. 
He shoved his whole length in you, not even giving you a chance to adjust to his size. He groaned as he quickly bottomed out.He wasted no time and began fucking you harshly. His hips slapped hard against your ass with each thrust. 
Your walls were clenching around him causing him to moan. You were a mess under him 
“Su-sukuna, fuck!” you whined out 
Your moans were answered with yet another hard smack on your ass, you were sure it would leave a print
“Don't speak, i don't want to hear your voice again” he said as he fucked into you harder 
The large vein that ran down the length of his thick shaft was rubbing you in that sweet spot that drove you insane 
You continually fought the urge to whine and tell your boyfriend how close you are. You felt your body get hot and your climax grew deeper in your core. 
Your whole body shook as you reached your climax. You wanted to scream but your very mean boyfriend already told you not to speak and you can't imagine the punishment you’d receive if you disobeyed him.
You let out a small whimper as you reached the end of your orgasm. Sukuna laughed at how you were shaking and whining.
He aggressively grabbed your body and flipped you onto your back. He grabbed your thighs and pushed them up to your chest then slid his dick back into your aching cunt 
You bit your lip to try and stop your moans but he leaned down right above your face
“Go ahead mama, you can whine for me” he spoke before placing a sloppy kiss on your lips 
“Daddy, right there!” you whined out. Your boyfriend was hitting your sweet spot again and you knew you would cum quickly for him again
One thing about sukuna, he made sure you always had more than one orgasm for him.
He pressed his weight onto you and shoved his dick in you deeper. His tip was abusing your cervix 
“d-daddy , i can't take it!”, tears formed in your eyes as you looked up at him, hoping he’d give your body some mercy 
“Now the little princess can't take it,hm? The way you were talking earlier made me think you could take it. Where's that attitude now baby?” his voice was low as he hovered right above your face 
No matter how much you begged Sukuna didn't let up one bit. He continued to give your cunt deep, hard strokes. You whined and cried under him and it gave him motivation to keep going 
You felt your orgasm building once again, “im so close daddy” you cried out
“Mhm mama cum for daddy”, he groaned in response 
Your legs shook violently as you came undone for your boyfriend. His strokes became erratic meaning he was nearing his own climax
“Want me to fuck a baby into you?” he asked as he started speeding up 
He knew you were on birth control but you both loved the idea of breeding when you were having sex. You loved the way it feels when he fills you up
You nodded in response to his question. He leaned down and gave you a messy kiss. His tongue intertwined with yours and he groaned in your mouth.
Sukuna reached his climax and shot hot ropes into you. He put your legs down and slowly slid out of you 
He laid next to you and wrapped his arms around your body as you both came down from your high.
He placed a soft kiss on your temple, “im sorry baby i was distracted by my game and completely let it slip my mind that today is cleaning day” he pulled you in closer and placed more kisses all over your face 
He then got up out of the bed and slipped his clothes back on. He walked back over to the bed and put the blanket on you 
“Just lay down okay, I'll put away all the laundry and wash the dishes. You want korean bbq tonight?”
“Yes please. And i'm sorry for yelling at you” you said as you looked at him with a sad expression 
“It’s okay mama I should have listened” he leaned over and gave you a kiss then he left the room and closed the door behind him as he walked out 
You laid in bed and dozed off as your boyfriend finished the chores.
Rachel
526 notes · View notes
lasciviouspoison · 1 year
Text
my first full length smut fic! this shit took weeks to edit ngl, but it was worth it. with that being said, there are probably still some mistakes so excuse those, lol. tw: breeding, eren calls himself “daddy”, word “mommy” is used, reader and eren are extremely (heavy emphasis on extremely) frustrated. not a tw, but like i always say, this is for my chubby black women, but all are free to read <3
eren has loved you for an extremely long time. he’s spoiled u, fed u, he’s even dressed you head to toe while you were sick.
yet, all of this spoiling and caring for u, does not warrant your brattiness right now.
he’s been studying tirelessly for his midterm for about 2 weeks now, finally on his last day of review before his test in a couple of days. yet, he can’t seem to focus because you keep coming in and out of your shared study every three seconds.
“‘ren, where are the extra washcloths?”
he looks up from his textbook, glasses falling off his nose a bit. you’re even dressed like a brat, skimpy little white tank top and baby pink panties. it makes his head hurt worse than the passage he’s read over 4 times now.
“there’s no way you’re asking me where fucking washcloths are right now. there’s no way.” he says with some bite to his voice. he just needs to finish these last two pages and the longer it takes him, the more it kills him.
your arms cross over your chest, pushing your bra-less chest up and exposing a bit of your chubby stomach. “does it look like i’m joking with you? where are they?”
he clenches his jaw and in a very clipped tone, he responds that they’re under the sink. you scoff slightly and walk out, making an effort to slam the door a bit harder than necessary.
he sits back in his chair and throws off his glasses, big tattooed hands wiping his face. eren knows he’s been neglecting you, and it’s killing him just as much as you. he’s tired of coming home from class too tired to touch you. he’s tired of you having to tell him to go lay down after his head rocked one too many times over his dinner plate.
he’s tired, but he’s not gonna let you act like a bitch just to get what you want. simply because it’s fucking working.
he pushes up from his desk and walks out of the study. he hears the bathroom cabinets opening, so he does everything but sprint to get there.
you peer over your shoulder at him and roll your eyes, “they weren’t under the sink. in fact, they’re all dirty cause, you know, you act like you can’t help with laundry anymore-“
erens grabbed you by the nape of your neck and brought your body close to his. you can hear his semi-heavy breathing despite still being bent over, which caused your heart to race a little. although you knew eren would never hurt you, it doesn’t mean that his pent up energy won’t go to waste.
“a couple things: one, don’t talk to me like i’m a fucking child. two, i do still help with laundry, there’s a whole basket full of folded shirts sitting on the bedroom floor that i didn’t get the chance to put away. and finally, you that cock hungry, or are you genuinely mad at me?” he finishes with a finger running up your spine, back arching at the feeling. he knows this rills you up, which is perfect for him. you don’t get to frustrate him and remain unscathed.
your eyes widened a bit, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop eren’s hand from moving. you could feel just how hard he was and it made you think that he almost had it worse than you. however, that doesn’t mean your just gonna lay here and take it.
“get the fuck off me eren” you said through tight lips. his hands now steadily making their way under your top, with you making no advances to stop him.
he bent down towards your ear as his body almost covers yours entirely, with his fingers now gently pulling at your nipples.. “you know what’s funny? you can act mad at me all you want, but this pretty pussy is never ever mad at me. maybe i should gag you and let her do the talking, at least she’s not a fucking liar” at this point, eren’s hands feel like hot coals against your body. while they slowly make their descent back down your body, you can feel your resolve slowly melting away under his touch.
before you could reply, his fingers begin to softly move along your covered slit, causing your breath to hitch. you push your hips back a little and eren gives you a breathless laugh in return.
“i know i’ve neglected you pretty baby. daddy’s really sorry, just let me make it up to you. i promise, you can have me all night if you just tell me what you really want”. sometimes, you swore that you could hear the smirk on eren’s lips.
you shook your head no and felt a soft slap to your pussy. you wanted to scream at him and tell him just how badly you missed him, but your mouth refused to open. you bit your lip once he began touching you again, attempting to coax a confession from your pretty lips.
you felt him bend over once again, this time to place small kisses behind your ear, kisses that started to travel down your neck and onto your back. the entirety of his ministrations were torture, but it was when he stopped kissing you and replaced his lips with his tongue to lick a stripe up your back that you really wanted to cave.
eren’s middle finger finally found your bare clit, the initial contact causing you to jump hard against his body. small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to maneuver on his fingers before he stilled your movements.
“m’not doin anything more till you tell me the truth. what do you want from me baby? tell me and i’ll give it you ya”.
you try to grind against his fingers once again before a hard smack to your ass forces you to stop. his grip on your hips tightening, letting u know that he’s really gonna deprive you until you speak.
“want you to touch me ren! wan’ you to fuck me so fucking bad!” you finally scream out.
every gives you a small chuckle before his middle and index finger burry themselves into your cunt. his body almost shakes at warmth you provide. blood rushing straight to his dick, making him indescribably hard.
“that’s it baby, that’s all i wanted to hear.” he sounds breathless, almost like he’s the one that’s been getting teased.
he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, a small squelching sound coming from your sopping pussy. your grip on the cold marble counter top has your knuckles turning white. at this point, you’re so desperate for more that your meeting his fingers half way.
with tears threatening to run down your chubby cheeks, you make pleas for more. “ren please, please gimme more. i’ll be good i promise!”
he feels so bad. you’ve never acted like this, even when the two of you were still forced to live separately on campus. the desperation in your voice is surprising him just as much as it’s surprising you.
because he knows you like it when he fucks you with his hair down, he pulls his hair from his already loosening bun and all but rips his sweats off. dick hitting his bare stomach with a heavy thud.
he takes his fingers out of you and rips those pretty pink panties off, he makes a mental note to buy you another pair.
he rubs himself between your sticky folds till his cock is shiny, hitting your clit a couple of times in the process, drawing more whines from you. all he can do is look down in awe. it’s amazing to him just how wet you get from just a couple of fingers, but who can blame u? his dick’s been throbbing for four days straight.
he finally anchors himself and spits, emitting a soft puh before he smiles. you’re such a mess underneath him and he can’t wait to make it even worse. he finally starts to push in, but your tight little cunny won’t let him in no matter how gentle he tries to be.
“lemme in baby… please lemme in” his voice is so strained it’s making u gush even more.
“i’m tryin!” you say with a pout, tears running down your face.
eren knows you’ve always been big on eye contact when the two of you fuck, it’s almost necessary… so, he hooks his fingers into the side of your mouth and forces your head to lift. finally you were able to see that tattooed chest and pretty face, and he was able to see those pretty eyes and beautiful tear stained face.
almost immediately do you loosen up and he accidentally on purpose pushes all the way in, causing the both of you to moan loudly.
“there you go baby, take it for me ya spoiled fuckin brat”. his hands have found purchase on the fatness of your hips, his grip so tight that you think he’ll bruise you. not that you’ve ever cared.
“fuckfuckfuck” is all you can say as you watch his facial expressions through the mirror. his hair is down and there’s tiny beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. he’s gone slack jawed while stroking you, a relaxed expression gracing his pretty face. no matter how many times he’s buried himself in your warm walls, he’s never gotten used to how good u feel. once his green eyes make contact with yours and that smirk graces his face, it makes u realize just how in control he is no matter how gentle he may look.
“squeezin’ me so tight baby.. u miss me that much?” he says with a breathless laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm. the both of you know that going this long without touch was both odd and frustrating. it caused the both of you to miss each other equally, hence why this could be categorized as some of the best sex you’ve ever had.
at this point, he knows you’re gonna cum soon, he can feel your walls pulsing and eren feels like his dick is gonna pop.
“g’nna cum rennie, g’nna make a mess on yo- ugh fuck!” your little hands balling into fists as he hits that spongey spot in you. you can hear just how hard he’s thrusting into you, each stroke sounding more sticky than the last. it’s making your eyes cross and toes curl.
your convinced he’s gonna kill you with that horse dick of his one day.
“let it out baby, i’ll clean it up the mess, wanna feel you cum on me.” even he’s getting whiny now, so it’s only a matter of time before you-
“-ohmygod eren!” you cum so hard that your body’s shaking and your knees are buckling. thankfully, eren’s always there to catch you.
despite chasing his own nut, he desperately wants to see you ride out your orgasm. he’s so desperate that he’s picking you up by your hips, forcing you to do small circles against his waist cause he knows it drives you crazy.
however, it doesn’t take long before he’s digging deep into you again, the force of his thrusts causing your head to bounce a little harder than intended.
“god i’m gonna cum so hard in this pretty pussy. i’m so fucking sorry i neglected you baby.. never again, god i’ll never do it again baby i promise. gonna fill you up okay? awe, you like the sound of that yeah? make you the prettiest mommy for me. promise i’ll take care of you forever. god i love you”. he’s rambling and his voice is getting rough. it’s only a matter of time before he cums.
after finding some strength, you finally look back and smile at him and that’s all it takes for eren to cum. his face screws up and his warm hands slide up your back to make you arch a little deeper. you wish you could run your fingers through his hair so badly, but you couldn’t ask for a better view of your beautiful boyfriend.
after a few moments of silence, eren finally comes down from his high with a big huff of air. gently, he spins you around so you face him. he moves your curls from out of your eyes and gives you a slow kiss on the lips, hands resting gently on your chubby, tear stained cheeks.
after a few moments of silence, he starts to speak, “i meant what i said. i’m sorry i left you alone for so long baby. i just gotta pass this test.” his eyes full of remorse.
“i know eren, i just wanted some attention… it’s really easy to miss you, even if we live together”. small smiles find both of your faces and eren finally pulls out to run the two of you a warm bath.
he strips you out of your tank top and carries you over to the tub, where he holds you tightly.
after some comfortable silence, you can’t help but look over your shoulder and ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind, “you really wanna get me pregnant?”
he looks towards the ceiling and let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “i mean, eventually yes. right now? fuck no”
the two of you fell into laughter while the smell of lavender filled your noses and achy bones were finally allowed to rest.
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Dad's Cam Show (Re-uploaded)
Note: This is a story I wrote in 2020 that was previously deleted by Tumblr. Couldn't find it until I stumbled upon am old hard drive. Hope you enjoy.
--
This social distancing shit is so boring. I get it. It’s needed. But god damn am I running out of things to do. Can’t even meet the guys I’ve been talking to on Grindr. Worse yet is that I’m stuck back at home. I was supposed to graduate college this year! Instead I was slumped over a computer screen in my PJs with my dad making his special pancakes. Ugh. Fuck this shit. I just wish I could go back to a better time.
Whatever. I’m done complaining. Dad’s getting groceries which means I can snoop around his shit. Yeah I’m that bored.
Dad’s a big burly guy. Heading into his mid-forties now and starting to gray up a little, but still keeping his body builder life style. He’s pretty open with me. He told me he used to do cam shows back before livestreams were even a thing. Made sense. Had to show off the bod somehow. Don’t know how mom thought about it but whatever. She’s out of the picture.
His room always had a musky woodsy cologne-y smell. His laundry hamper was even better. I always loved taking his briefs out of there and putting them on myself. I’ve been following his footsteps and bodybuilding myself, but I’m still a ways away before I have an ass and waist as large as his. So his 36in undies droop a bit. I grabbed his black cap too. Man. He loves this thing. Well, plus the 10 others caps he has. He always had it topping his head. Pretty sure he wears it to sleep too. I put it on and flexed like him. I got a bit of a boner but nothing crazy.
His dinosaur of a laptop was open, and logged in. I know I shouldn’t have, but I did it anyways. There were so many folders within folders. So much boring shit… and then I found “cam pics.”
The briefs I was wearing tented and wetted. Fuck I was so scared to open it. But I clicked it and… In there was only one image. I clicked on it to make it bigger and it was my dad. About 13 years ago. He was shirtless, and wearing the same cap that I have on my head right now. My eyes drifted from his hairy arms to his chest to eventually his bearded face. He looked so… tired? There was something about the softness in his expression that really got to me. And then…
“Hey son! I’m home! Could ya help me with the groceries?”
Shit. I got up and scrambled. The briefs were soaked and still being soaked. I had so many windows to close out of. Then I started hearing his footsteps come closer. I panicked and grabbed the top of the laptop to close it, but I couldn’t move. Suddenly, all the windows on the screen started to close. All except for the image of dad I had opened it. It enlarged by itself, and then the laptop started to fucking shake. I tried to get it to stop but it just kept rumbling. Fuck it. I wound up my fist and punched the screen. But there was no impact.
In less than a second my body followed my wrist into the screen. Everything went bright, and I was in a different room. I looked around. It looked like my parents’ room at our old house. The same laptop was in front of me showing the same image as before. Dad’s younger face looking back… And then I saw his eyes move. I froze. I looked at the time. 12:56 turned to 12:57. This wasn’t an image. It was a fucking livestream.
I slowly tilted my head. Dad did the same. I widened my eyes. So did dad. A smile crept over our faces. I just time travelled! And into dad’s body! Fuck there was so much I could do now!
“PING”
A old-school AIM notification popped up on screen. I maneuvered dad’s hand to the mouse and clicked on it. “Hey daddy. You gonna give us a show or what?”
“PING”
“Let’s see those hairy pits man!”
Fuck. I guess dad wasn’t kidding about these cam shows. Shit how do I reply? Do I just say something?
“Uh…” I gulped. Dad’s gruff voice was in my throat. “You guys mean… uh… this?” I lifted and flexed dad’s right arm. Immediately his armpit hair bursted out. Moist and smelly. My nose naturally turned towards the sweaty pit. Holy fuck was it musky. I took a deep whiff and groaned.
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“PING. PING. PING. PING.”
“Fuck yeah daddy. Sniff that pit.”
“God damn you’re a big guy. How’s it feel huh?”
It felt amazing being so big. Watching everything I was doing be reflected by my dad on the recording was even better. The cockiness came in.
I wheeled the office chair back and did a double bicep pose. Sweat dripped off his hairy pits. I gave my face a rub and felt his beard scratch against his callused fingers. Then my hands felt the need to go down to his chest. I never felt so much pleasure from nipple rubbing in my life. The pings kept on coming. It was euphoric.
Dad’s cock was tenting the briefs I had put on earlier. I uncaged his 7 incher and let out a whiff of junk musk that filtered into my nose immediately. I started stroking and couldn’t stop. My other hand reached under dad’s taint, through the forest of pubes, and rammed a dildo into my dad’s ass crack.
“PING. PING. PING.”
“Holy fuck this is new! We gonna see a fingering show today!?”
“God damn man you enjoying yourself?”
I was. Everytime Dad’s moans left my throat I felt cock twitch a little bit harder. It just felt so amazing to feel his beefy arms rub against his beefy chest. His toes curling with every electric shock of pleasure moving through his beefy ass and legs.
I shot his load. Let out a gutteral yell. And it didn’t stop coming. My beard was soaked with three shots of cum. Chest was drenched with eight more. At this point, sweat was trickling down my temples. I relished in dad’s orgasm and then relaxed in the chair.
I watched as the notifications went crazy. Dad’s soft eyes housing my consciousness. Ugh. It felt incredible. I glanced over at his hat and felt the need to take it off. I did, and felt a wave of cool relief come off my head. Dad’s hair was cropped short, like a messy crew cut. And it was dripping with sweat. I felt the need to say something.“You like that, men?” Dad had so much suave in voice. The pings accelerated.I smiled and played with my cock. I could feel another round coming but felt a bigger presence unfold. Suddenly dad’s body started to shake. I tried controlling it, but I couldn’t weigh him down. My arms were flailing before my hands grabbed onto the edges of the desk. I whipped my head back, then head-butted the laptop screen. Light filtered through.
I was back at home, in my dad’s loose fitting briefs, his cap nestled on my head. Dad’s footsteps came by, then turned another direction. Guess he wasn’t coming by his room just yet. I looked down at his briefs, now soaked with my cum. Fuck. Was it just a dream?
It must’ve been. Just a fucking horny fever dream. What the fuck ever. Better than what I had been doing up until now. I leaned over to close the laptop but noticed something.
The image had turned into a recording.
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zeldasnotes · 11 months
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ASTRO NOTES 27 🀧
Check out my masterlists for more observations masterlist II & masterlist III 🐉
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🀧 Asteroid Bless(92891) conjunct Saturn can show that your blessings will come later in life.
🀧 Couples with 10th house placements in the composite chart wants to look like the perfect couple. Unfortunately the 10th house is the snitch of the zodiac and will let everyone see your dirty laundry, especially if Pluto is here.
🀧 When two people have the same Mars sign mixed with a lot of oppositions in synastry it can make them rivals. You want the same thing and you are alike but the energy is still tense. Throw in aspects to Nessus or Chiron and you have two people who might start to even despise eachother for life.
🀧 Mars in Scorpios are not dangerous for what they do during the fight they are dangerous because of what they do after the fight and how long they can wait before they do it. They prefer to get revenge in sneaky ways. I noticed they are not so cocky when infront of the person.
🀧 Sagittarius Mars can mean having a name that works all over the world. A common name like ”David”. Can also mean your name doesnt match your ethnicity. Like having a spanish namn even tho your family are not spanish.
🀧 Juno(3) conjunct Uranus can be very rebellious and might break traditions and start new traditions with their partner. I know a serbian girl with this aspect and she married an albanian man. Their parents didnt like it at all but their parents were forced to meet and get along.
🀧 If you have Boda(1487)conjunct Jupiter you might have your wedding in another country than the one you live in. If its in pisces you get married on a beach or near water.
🀧 People with Pluto in the 6th house can have strong opinions on people who dont work hard. My friend with this constantly talk shit about people who are unemployed. I think deep down shes jealous because she had to start working very early in life because her parents were poor and her parents never bought her stuff. She hates when people get stuff for free. She also have Mars 2nd house so talking money can make her really angry.
🀧 People with Saturn in the 4th house might come from a home where feelings are not shown/talked about. There can be this coldness and distance between them and their parents.
🀧 People with Ceres(1) conjunct Mars usually loves to workout. Might have an exercise addiction.
🀧 Lilith in the 1st house can give someone a unrealistic body, like super skinny with huge breasts or huge butt. Especially if Cancer placements are involved.
🀧 There is nothing more annoying than when someone you are not attracted to got planets in your 1st or 8th house, bc they be hell bent on getting your attention. And they will get it by starting a fight with you if they cant get it in a positive way.
🀧 Strong(22622) conjunct personal planets is someone who might have had to endure a lot and had no choice but to be strong.
🀧 People with Ranke(20012) conjunct Sun cares a lot about social rank and status. They need to be seen as someone important. They easily notice others social rank. Like they see a person they never seen before and without ever knowing who it is they can instantly see if this is someone whos not to be messed with bc of status/rank.
🀧 People with Venus sextile or trine Asc know they are attractive even if they have some flaws they dislike. They usually dont feel a strong need to ”prove it”. People with Venus Square Ascendant are the opposite they feel a strong need to prove to others that they are attractive even when they dont believe it themselves and this can lead to a lot of mean comments to make sure you know what they got that you dont. They need you to know that their body is better than yours while someone with venus trine/sextile asc dont need to tell you that, they are good just knowing it in silence.
🀧 You probably admire the traits of the sign of your North Node.
🀧 With Mars conjunct South Node in synastry there might be tension from a past life. Check asteroid Karma(3811) to see what might have happened between the two of you. One of you might feel a sense of anger towards the other for no reason.
🀧 Some of the placements considered annoying/rude are also the people we need. For example Mars/Mercury and Asc/Pluto people can seem annoying when they argue with the teacher for the 1000th time this class. But who do you think will stand up for the bullied kid? Yeah them. You might avoid them but you will call them when you need back up. Cancer and Scorpio Moon might be intense and emotional but who will stand by you when the whole world is against you? Yeah them. Virgos might criticize but who will make you soup when you are sick and point out the flaws on your exes new girlfriend? Yeah Virgos will.
🀧 People with Taurus IC got a lot of fragrance sticks and scented candles.
© 2023 Zeldas Notes
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carolmunson · 11 months
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okay, since some of you asked for it:
unpopular opinion but i don’t actually think eddie was a nice soft boy at all. dustin and mike are literally afraid to ask him to move hellfire. ‘he’s always revved up,’ implying that he’s always like this, always a little close to snapping. he’s not nice to them when he asks them to find a replacement. he also guilt trips them about 'taking them in like lost sheep' and shoves them off to find a replacement instead of keeping lucas included. which is why i don't understand the 'fierce protector of his friends' take because he's so quick to drop lucas just because he's 'moved to the dark side.' aka, throwing balls into laundry baskets.
which leads me to when he gets up on the table, people are not trying to fuck around with him. this is a common occurance, people are not surprised to see him up there and yelling. they aren't surprised that he's making a spectacle of himself. if eddie was soft and sweet, he would’ve gotten beat up. if eddie was soft and gentle, he'd probably be scared of jason. guys like jason in the 80s loved being macho and punching out losers — eddie just gave him the devil horns and called it a day. eddie’s absolutely gotten in fist fights before and won (his dad is a literal criminal!) otherwise someone would've thrown something or told him to shut the fuck up. people are scared of him, even his own friends! there’s more reasons than just playing DND and metal that make town certain that he’s a cult leader. you don't just assume someone is a murderer if they haven't shown any interest in violence before, especially considering his dad was likely a shitty dude. he even bullies erica when she first shows up to hellfire and only respects her when she bullies him back and bests him. he is someone you have to EARN respect from. he will never respect anyone outright or be understanding outright. he doesn't fully respect dustin or mike to start either, he views them as underlings.
even chrissy assumes he's going to be mean and scary, there's gotta be reason behind that. he's not nice or kind in school, which is likely a defense mechanism. he’s sweet with chrissy because he likes her, he has a crush on her. it’s very clear that he has since he was a kid, otherwise why would he bring up them hanging out in middle school? why would he even remember that if he hasn’t been pining for her this whole time? he admits too, albiet flirtily, that he thought SHE'D be mean and scary too, because he doesn't like people 'like that', people he assumes are 'on the dark side'. i’m sure he hoped they’d kiss a little when she went to his trailer. he's even a little sarcastic when she's there, again, defensive. 'the maid took the week off'. but ultimately, he's nice to her because he wants to kiss her and has a crush on her. i don't think it's because he's fully 'showing her who he really is'.
also he's a literal drug dealer????? like?????
he only becomes more gentle and open with dustin and co. when he gets pulled into the upside down/vecna stuff because he needs support. they grow a bond over shared trauma. and i do believe eddie had a big brother type relationship with dustin, but just like steve he loves him begrudgingly 'i love you, you little shit bag' kind of shit. i do believe he liked and cared for his friends but i also think he always had a big layer of mean kid armor on because he had a hard life growing up. how i percieved the character is 'mean bully whose secretly nice but is mean and boisterous and loud as a cover' trope. when he explains that his father taught him to hotwire, he seems bitter about it. of course he is, all the other kids were learning to play ball. but he obviously still retains this information and a whole bunch of other crime tricks from his dad. he's BEEN partaking in this shit. he KNOWS he's a shitty guy. you don't just get taught how to hotwire once and then suddenly know how to do it years later. he's done it before! multiple times! he has practice! he likely knows about warzone cause his daddy absoLUTELY had a gun or two. his dad probably took him there once. he was pulled left and right into bad shit growing up and that will HARDEN YOU. wayne says that murder 'ain't in his nature' and i'm sure it's not. i'm sure he's different with wayne, but idk, to me, it doesn't erase the fact that outwardly, i don't think eddie was nearly as sweet and gentle as people think he is canonically. i think he's a very hardened and tortured person and that even becomes clear with his reaction to chrissy's death and how he goes about things going forward. he was a weird kid with weird interests in a cookie cutter conservative town, had a criminal father, and an unconventional family situation in the 70s and 80s, that shit'll fuck you up and over -- look at boomers y'all! they are emotionally stunted! but, i could go on forever with this character analysis. so i'll stop here. but -- in the words of the real housewives reunion meme: that's MY OPINION!
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ronearoundblindly · 7 months
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Your Dog, His Tricks
a Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader tale set a little over a year after losing their virginity together and based on this ask.
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Summary: Injured on a mission and MIA for days, you return to a very high-strung boyfriend who can't express what he's feeling until it boils to the surface.
Warnings: arguments and smut. MINORS DNI. WC 5.4k
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You don’t know when it started, this sort of competition with your boyfriend, but at some point you and Steve became a packaged deal. Unfortunately, that package was labeled: Steve Rogers and his girl. You feel nameless sometimes, and you know you are better than that; maybe you aren’t super like he is, but you are (and were since before dating) a whole-ass Avenger in your own right. You are a stellar agent. You can bring home the top prize. You can finish this shit-show of a mission all on your own.
No help.
None.
You noticed a problem after months and months of fighting with Steve—no, that sounds wrong—beside Steve. 
Okay, maybe it’s not wrong-wrong to say fighting with him because you two do have the occasional argument. Just one argument, really. One argument over and over again about you fighting beside him, why it’s fine, why he should let it go. You are as safe fighting beside him now as you were before the two of you became this set, this lop-sided partnership. He still wants to protect you from shit you are trained to protect yourself from, shit you survived just fine without him, shit like the last three days.
He’s stubborn, and so are you.
You’ve had trouble getting him to back off. The Team is a team, and Steve does great, delegating all sorts of jobs when you are one among many. As soon as it’s you and him alone? He’s…overly helpful, over-protective, and generally over-the-top fussy. He is adoring and caring and competent. Apparently, those things make him feel capable of doing everything for you. It’s sweet until it’s not. Every time you start a project—laundry, cooking, organizing shelves, or leading an actual mission—Steve waltzes in and has to finish it for you.
Because he loves you. Because he’s trying to help. Because he can.
It makes you feel as if you can’t, or, at least, as if he thinks you can’t.
“Well, buddy, you can’t have this one,” you mutter outside of HQ’s gate, gripping your side and flicking open the phone you stole a few states back.
You’ve been gone for just shy of seventy-three hours.
At first, you truly had no way to contact the Team. You were on your own a thousand miles from home, fried comms and a spent weapon. You missed the rendezvous at the safehouse because it took twenty or so hours to find a vet office with the supplies to patch yourself up, and by the time you could have reached out, that ear worm wouldn’t leave you alone.
He’ll swoop in.
He’ll save you.
You’re his girl, so you need him. You can’t handle this without him. No one will believe you did once he gets anywhere near you.
Call it adrenaline. Call it blood loss. Call it shock. You can’t give up this glory, so you told yourself you needed radio silence to keep the recovered intel secure until back on Avengers campus. You told yourself the risk of interception was too high to chance a phone call.
Now, fifty feet from the infirmary, you need to get past one more obstacle.
You know Steve would jump from a third-story window to get to you, know he would scoop you right up into his arms and carry you over the threshold, know that would mean Steve wins.
No. Not this time. This is yours. You deserve the credit. You are crossing that finish line solo.
You jab the last of the epi-pens into your good leg, letting yet more adrenaline heave through what little of your blood volume is left and call the HQ secure line from the burner.
“Friday,” you start, standing at the bus stop, a blindspot from the Avengers’ surveillance cameras because the city already monitors it, “authorization Gamma-Lima-Four-Whisky. Do not declare connection. I repeat, do not declare this connection.”
The AI welcomes you back onto the grid politely.
“Thank you.” A bubble of pain bursts in your throat. “Give them a different location for this call, ok? Tell them it’s from the nearest functional payphone.”
Friday does as you say because why wouldn’t she? It’s not as if Steve is going to pause to question where the ping is—
—and he’s already out, on the bike, pushing that engine to its acceleration limit and narrowly escaping a shoulder check from the slowly opening gates.
You sneak right past, knowing he won’t look in his rearview, not with his eye on a prize ten blocks away, and you collapse just inside the garage ramp.
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You wake prone in the Regeneration Cradle after surgery to a kind, smiling nurse monitoring your progress.
It’s difficult to focus. After a few blinks, you can see her features clearly, then beyond her are just eyes.
His eyes.
Piercing blue doesn’t begin to describe the intensity of Steve’s gaze, and his silence is deafening.
Each quarter-minute he inventories the room, and he exhales. That is the sum total of what he can manage to do right now. He’s attempting to keep it together until you two are alone obviously. Steve fails at very few things in life; this is one of them. You can see the outline of his teeth through his tight cheek.
“Doc wanted me to tell you you did a great job,” the nurse states softly. “If you hadn’t packed those wounds so tight, you’d have died for sure.”
Your mouth is too dry to respond, so you flash a wry smile. No one gets the Cradle without…extensive injuries. You’ve never had the ‘pleasure,’ not even for your through-and-through last year.
Steve huffs in frustration, keeping his huge body out of the nurse’s way even when you can feel him try to astral project himself forward to hand you ice chips. Instead, you swallow cotton.
“Captain Rogers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimes from above, “your motorcycle has been cited for running five red lights with a further two dozen traffic violations. Shall I claim Official Avengers’ business?”
You croak ‘no.’ He says ‘yes.’
There’s a pause. “I will ask again later.”
Who says AIs can’t throw some serious shade?
Silence descends again as the spindling print needle moves on to a different wound. You’re lucid but wobbly trying to think, a combination of the waning anesthesia and pain meds.
If frowns could kill, your boyfriend’s would devastate the entire med bay.
This is what you hoped beyond hope to avoid, but it’s also why your endgame involved going solo.
“You’re making my point for me,” you sigh, your chest hurting more after surgery than it has in the past twenty-four hours. Clearly, your nerves are back online.
“And what point was that?“ he asks sarcastically, waiting in your own stubborn silence. “You gave me a heart attack.”
“Really?” You’re playfully shocked.
“No, not really! God.” He rushes closer. “What the hell were you thinking? If you had time to send me on a wild goose chase, you could damn well have called to tell me you were alive!”
The cradle’s lights shut off, job complete.
“Language, Steve.” 
He looks incredulous, engrossingly livid, anxious outrage contained by his one frayed thread of control left. 
“We found the intel,” he grits through a clenched jaw. “After power-washing your blood off it, everything was on the drive.”
You can’t sit up on your elbows yet, so you bite back, “good. It all worked out fine then.”
Wafting off him in thick clouds, Steve’s anger is near-flammable in the small room.
The nurse offers to step out for a second.
You say ‘yes.’ Steve barks ‘no.’
This isn’t the nurse’s first rodeo. “Alright, surgery went well. All debris and fragments removed. Your tissue is all intact now, too, but remember, this treatment doesn’t train new muscle fiber or nerve-endings.” She ignores Steve and pushes past to the other end of the table. “Rest up. Tomorrow, you can report to PT. They’ll work with you until you’re field-approved again.”
“She is not—“
“Both of you are ordered to rest,” the nurse snaps, nodding in Steve’s direction “—and make yourself useful by changing her drip when it runs out. If you can’t manage that, Captain, I will find a separate apartment or keep her here overnight.”
“No,” Steve breathes, visibly deflating. Like a scolded puppy, your boyfriend tucks his chin down, rings of grey settling beneath his dark sea eyes. It’s plain as day he hasn’t slept either.
The nurse calls for a wheelchair, and Steve dutifully helps you scoot off the table when it arrives. While he positions the IV to move in tandem, you attempt to push yourself by the huge rubber wheels and fail. Doc was not kidding about muscle weakness.
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Steve says nothing.
You’re rolled back to your shared room by the grumpiest Captain America. 
He helps you dress in baggy, comfy clothes and silently reattaches the line of your drip. Not one touch is in a sexual, sensual, or even intimate way even though you are naked at some point.
You can’t remember what you expected; you’ve been so focused on completing the mission for so long. Did you want a desperate homecoming? Did you want him to grovel or worship at your feet? You think, at some point, you knew he’d push back, but you thought…maybe…he’d want you more.
Steve seems to turn his interest on and off so easily, which is great professionally but hard to read personally…or maybe you’re just struggling under the distracting hum of medication. It’s a white noise you can’t ignore, lulling you unconscious, so you can’t analyze the situation anymore. Maybe, you think, you try…but the thoughts don’t come.
He situates you on his side of the bed—to accommodate the cord and stand—and tucks himself quietly into the smallest corner of mattress that his bulk can fit on.
He falls asleep holding your hand. It’s the only place you two are connected. After nearly eighty-five hours apart, that’s still worth it. Maybe.
At some point, his hand goes limp and falls away.
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Finally clear of mind, you keep watching Steve the next day. He doesn’t necessarily seem angry, and he doesn’t necessarily seem relieved either. He’s so robotic in his interactions. He won’t talk to you just at you. 
You understand why he was so standoffish last night, but you thought Steve would surely want you after that. You thought he’d start touching you again. 
You two waited so long for your first time, but after that, sex was relatively easy. Steve is an affectionate man when he’s allowed, when he’s in love, and you know he loves you.
Like the nurse said: all your tissue is fully healed. The only restrictions you have are in regards to field work, and the phantom jolts of pain—when you reach into a cabinet or take down a clothes hanger—aren’t real. 
Steve’s always an arm’s length away, just in case, meaning he is there to help you.
Always an arm’s length away.
No closer. No farther.
That afternoon you attempt to start talking about your mission, but that’s when he moves.
Steve practically sprints out the door with a half-baked excuse, so you go to physical therapy alone. You can go alone. That’s not the problem.
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If you thought talking to Steve was difficult, you weren’t ready for how hard touching Steve would be.
You try to initiate even a cuddle that second night, and he jumps up claiming to have forgotten something somewhere else that he promised someone. Your boyfriend can’t lie worth beans. You don’t know why he tries.
You’re asleep before he returns.
The next night is exactly the opposite. You spend longer at the gym, slowly and painstakingly repeating every single exercise you know in order to streamline these new muscles. It’s an unholy pain in the ass, but you do it because you can—and will—get back in the field.
Even though the workout was mild, you’re awash with that runner’s high when you return to find Steve passed out already. He looks so peaceful, brow relaxed and lips gently parted. He also looks, well, good enough to eat, but you’ll start slow.
There was one time early on, before you two went all the way, that you woke him up by grinding on him in your sleep. You think now, perhaps, you can recreate that, catch him off-guard and dissipate some of this tension between you. This would be a good release. You don’t normally go this long. Obviously, Steve wouldn’t have masturbated while you were MIA and possibly dead, and every other second since has been accounted for.
He practically can’t have sex anywhere else except naked in a bed. He’s even told you, point blank, that he feels no need to touch himself since he has you. You are what he wants. That’s what he said.
Except he doesn’t wake up to your advances. He just rolls over like you’re disturbing him and softly snores.
For the first time, you wonder if you’ve really broken the two of you. How long will he be mad at you for doing your job? 
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Steve rolls back over in his sleep, holding you close like nothing’s happened. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, but it’s enough and so, so wonderful to imagine all is well.
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About a week into your ‘recovery’ (which is sorta bullshit since you can do everything the same by now just with an occasional, faint twinge, no more than the strain of every workout, ever), Steve takes Sam Wilson up on his offer of 1-on-1 basketball for a while. The Team—minus you—has a raid planned in the morning, and there’s always nervous energy to burn off in anticipation.
Your boyfriend has been a nightmare grump, but no one wants to take on the hassle of convincing Steve that he’s being too Steve to Steve properly. He still won’t talk to you about anything other than the weather, food, or daily schedules.
You’re even considering taking a break from field work because this all has become too much. If Steve is gonna shut down after every dangerous mission—which is, in fact, all of them—then maybe it’s not worth the risk. You’re good, you’re great, but you aren’t super.
“Taste of his own medicine, I say,” Bucky mutters, sitting beside you on the bleachers between courts.
“Huh?” You were distracted, watching Steve and Sam squeak across the floor.
Steve sinks a perfect layup and doesn’t gloat. Do-gooder.
“He used to get so mad when I’d find him in an alley all beaten up,” Buck continues. “Thought I was being too protective. I trusted him, but he was puny and he did get sick all the time. He could take a punch, sure, but every mark took weeks to heal. Half the time, they were still yellow when some idiot landed fresh ones.”
Steve claps beneath the net, encouraging Sam, focused on not outshining anyone.
He’s been the same with everyone else but you, and the whole Team can see it. You shouldn’t be surprised someone is finally talking about it; you simply wonder how Buck drew the short straw.
“Didn’t wanna be babied,” Bucky snorts, fondly glowering at his century-long bestie, “while low and behold, he pulls that stunt with everybody, every day.” 
“Yup,” you pop, looking at the matte metal beneath your feet, knowing there’s a line between the ‘caring’ version and the ‘coddling’ version. Steve nose-dived right over that line this time.
“What he appreciated, though, was consistency.” Bucky swivels his hair around into a bun and ties it. “Punk is dedicated, and even if it was just him--the hund’ed pound soaking-wet guy whose only real talent at that point was getting back on his feet--he knew he’d fight anyway.
“Bit hypocritical to be mad at his girl for doing the same, don’t ya think?” Bucky muses, clucking his tongue.
The brunette watches you bristle slightly at the moniker. His girl. Not only is it what got you into this mess, it feels untrue based on that big, broad, cold shoulder you’ve received from the man racing back and forth in front of you.
Smiling, Bucky nudges you with his elbow. “I’m excited for you to get back on your feet,” he adds.
You’re stuck thinking about that long after Bucky jumps into the game.
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It’s no surprise then that when the doctor gives you the all-clear the very next morning, you’re over the moon and ready to strike. You don’t hesitate for a second when the alarm sounds less than an hour later.
The Team needs reinforcements. Your Team needs you.
You hustle into the back of a quinjet with a dozen agents. While the others file out to where the main conflict is raging, you sneak around the perimeter to suss out the mission goal, a treasure trove of enemy tech hidden somewhere in what was thought to be an abandoned village.
Not so abandoned if it’s lighting up like the pyrotechnics show on an action film set...
The explosions rattle the ground, yet you know the Team have breached the main chamber. Those enemy forces still fighting are distracting from a retreat. The other agents can catch them just fine. Your mission is intel recovery.
To keep your approach stealthy, you don’t announce your movements over comms, and Nat doesn’t scan back down the dark hallway you wedge into as she carries out an asset. If you weren’t so far back, you never would have seen him.
An enemy agent slinks out from behind a floor-to-ceiling tapestry right in front of you. His silhouette is short and thin; he’s built for stealth, too.
Your heart thumps loud in your ears as you follow, and that bastard gets close—so close—to Steve’s turned back that the pistol’s muzzle nearly touches.
Not this time. Not a chance. None.
You land a roundhouse kick to the exposed neck above his kevlar, and that sucker goes down like a sack of potatoes.
Steve turns around at the ready, stunned silent in the middle of his instructions to Bucky who is not visible from the other side heaped boxes. The papers still smoke where evidence was burned.
You salute at big, blue eyes. 
“On your six, Cap.” 
Steve looks at you, looks down at the man, and looks back up at you…pissed. 
“What the fuck are you doing?”
What the fuck indeed…
All you did was help your team. All you did was stop Captain America from getting his head blown off. In no small fashion, all you did was save your boyfriend’s life.
“Uh, you’re welcome.”
His grip on your arm is painful as he leads you all the way back to the jet himself, shoving you into the jump seat between other returned agents and shouting for you to 'stay right there.'
Bucky announces over comms that the rest is clean up. All but the specialized document interpretation and perimeter teams are moving out. 
Steve huffs, contemplates staying on a battlefield instead of going back with you, but decides to sit across the ship in silence again, fuming, making fists over and over in his fingerless leather gloves, bitterly sniffing as loud as possible the entire flight home. He refuses to answer a single person until the jet touches down at HQ. 
“Everyone off,” he bellows, “everyone except you.” 
You can’t stop it. Your hands fly up in exaggerated annoyance automatically.
“What do you want, Steve? I got the go-ahead this morning. I’m allowed to be here.”
“Stop doing that.” He rounds on you.
“Doing what? My job?!”
Chest puffed out, feathers ruffled, cheeks hot and red, Steve peels off his cowl. “Being insubordinate.”
“You’re not my superior officer,” you hiss, “we are equals, and if you think for one second I did anything wrong out there, go ahead and report me. From where I’m standing, I did the work, got cleared for duty, helped out the team, and stopped you from being shot.”
You poke a finger to his chest for each achievement listed.
“Fine," Steve shouts, crossing his arms, "but quit acting like a selfish coward.”
Them be fightin’ words. “A what?”
“You heard me,” he all but whispers.
It’s laughable, truly laughable how bad Steve is at hiding some of those wheels from turning in his head. This isn’t about today. This is the thing he buried the past week.
You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna throw a hissy fit every time I get a scratch—“
“THREE BULLETS IS NOT A SCRATCH.” He tries—he visibly, painfully tries—to keep his cool one last time. “You weren’t ready,” he concludes, judge, jury, and executioner all poured into one star-spangled package.
“Say’s who?” You’re stepping closer, getting in his face because this is bullshit and unfair. “Last time I checked you’re not a doctor, and you should be thanking me for saving your ass—“
“It’s not your job to save me.”
“We have the same job, Steve! We are both perfectly capable of—“
“I know that,” he barks, hot breath mingling with yours.
“Do you? Because you don’t seem to think I can handle myself.” You push weakly at his chest, taunting, like it's a game. “Maybe you need to walk it off, buddy.”
His face cracks, an avalanche unmoored from a stable mountain.
Oh shit. You’ve done it now.
“Walk it off?! WALK IT OFF?!”
Steve charges like a bull seeing red, crowding you against the far wall, his own derisive finger pointed at your heart.
“You were injured. You didn’t make contact. You went dark for days, and you could have died. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find you. No—“ he cups your chin in a tight pinch “—you want to talk about the job? It’s protocol to check in. It’s common courtesy to let me know you’re alive, and it’s goddamn rude to ignore your own safety.”
A dark, hazy sheen layers over his sharp gaze. “Don’t make me keep you home.”
There’s a deep line of frustration carved between his brows. His nostrils flair as he waits, daring you to refute him.
“Well—” you purse your lips in defiance “—isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”
Steve lets go of you, smacked away by your cutting tone.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, whatever, Rogers,” you dismiss. “We both know you don’t have the authority to bench me.”
“Like hell I don’t,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and throwing your arms above your head, He weaves your hands through the cargo net behind you. The loops are tight and complicated in seconds, he’s so fast.
You can’t wriggle away.
“Let’s see how you like it.”
Steve roughly throws the zipper of your uniform down, letting the jacket hang open to show nothing but your sports bra.
“Feeling paralyzed—“ he dexterously undoes your belt “—exposed—“ your pants and underwear are yanked down to your ankles “—and afraid.” His last word thickens the air on the jet. 
How can this man launch you into unbridled lust in the space of two syllables?
Who. Fucking. Cares. How.
Steve’s fingertips teasingly glide over the swell of your breasts, brush down your belly, and tick their way in a casual walk between your legs. He retracts his touch the instant you let out a longing sigh, unable to restrain how needy you are. His fingers wander to perfectly clean and unmarked flesh…on your thigh, along one side, and a few inches below that. He’s tracing the bullet wounds he watched heal so quickly.
“Maybe I should leave you wondering how it’ll all play out?” he says absently, lost in thought, his thumb shifting to notch into the dip of your hip. “Maybe I should leave you wondering if we’ll ever—”
“Yes,” you whimper, no real idea what you’re saying. That’s not what answer you meant.
“How would you like three whole days of this feeling, huh? You think you’d fare any better than I did? Think you’d make it even five minutes?”
“Uh-uh.” Again, with no clue what you’re truly responding to, you buck your hips forward onto his long fingers.
The cords around your wrists get tighter while you struggle to set a pace. Behind you, the metal rings of the netting hit the hull with a soft clinking noise. 
“Not so fast.” Steve pulls his hand away just far enough to remove all friction. “Because three days, sweetheart, it was torture. Felt like an eternity right on the edge.”
“Please,” you beg.
One deliberate swipe of his fingers through your slick is enough to make you mewl.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Steve. Please, I need you.”
“Need me? You have an odd way of showing it, doll. You have to promise me—“ he thrusts his fingers in “—promise me you’ll never leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you,” you cry, convinced that it’s true for the sole reason: you never want to experience anything other than this Steve for as long as you live.
“You are so brave, and so…capable, and I know you can do anything, but you…can’t survive anything.” He takes excruciating pleasure in slow thrusts and teasing circles. “Promise me you won’t be so reckless. Promise, say it.”
“I promise.” Your weight sags into his ministrations, called to focus on nothing but where his hand disappears between you. “I promise I won’t be reckless.”
“That’s my girl.”
Your head falls limp against your tied arms. It sounds so good from his lips. Why did you ever doubt?
“I promise I’ll come back to you,” you manage out like a prayer.
“Yeah? That’s it. Is that what you want?”
“I promise. I promise, Steve.” You time your movements sloppily with his measured tempo. “Please, I need more.”
“I know. I know.” He’s strung out, too, listening to your pathetic whimpers after less than five minutes, exactly like he predicted.
You’re so over-wrought with desperation you can’t coordinate with his manhandling your legs apart—your knees, really, since your ankles are still caught in your pants. Instead of taking off your boots, Steve simply unzips himself and dives right into your wet, warm, and welcoming pussy.
Knowing he has a thing against anything naughty in his suits makes it sexier. You want his intensity—you’ve always been curious—and finally you have it: unhinged, untethered, super Steve Rogers. Your body makes room out of sheer joy.
“I know,” Steve coos, his face pressed to your chest as he adjusts. “Fuck, I know, honey.”
“Move, Steve.”
“No,” he says with a gentle kiss to your sternum. “You wanna come? Go ahead. You can do it all on your own. You can do anything you want, can’t ya?”
You groan in frustration.
You wanted this, an annoying voice in the muddled depths of your mind calls. You’re independent.
With a sob of both excitement and fury, your thighs weld onto that sturdy, I-beam beast. You brace your bent arms over your angled and hovering body, leveraging the cargo straps to hoist you up and down.
Your muscles burn, strained more than they were on your lone journey back to HQ.
Steve grunts and moans, the ghost of his wide spread palms beneath your back as a safety net.
“That’s it. That’s it, good girl.” 
Amidst your own noises, you can barely hear him. You’re not building to a climax, you’re falling into one at terminal velocity, flailing. Struggling to hang on and let go all at once, you do come, but it’s more of a plateau than a full release.
Steve’s unhappy and takes your ass in a bruising grip, finally pumping his thick length in and out, dragging the head of his cock across that perfect spot over and over.
“You can do better than that,” he snarls, hair wrecked and falling in his face.
Wave, undertow, and wave again, pleasures simply blend into the next. He gets handsy, keyed up and out of control, muttering “don’t you ever fucking leave me.”
You’d scold him for cursing if the air weren’t being punched from your lungs.
“Come on, sweetheart. Three for three.”
You’re almost disappointed he only wants you to come three times in payment for his days of torture. Even as a tear escapes the corner of your eye and your throat breaks in a hoarse “please,” you know you would give him more. You'd give him anything.
When you finally reach that shattering end, Steve is almost incoherently feral, one hand clamped at the back of your neck, the other anchored to the small of your back, slamming your ass to his leather-covered thighs like you are his mission.
“I promise,” you try to repeat, but you aren’t sure they sound like words.
Whether in response to you or as an errant thought, Steve’s own broken voice rattles at your sweaty neck. “You can take it,” he whispers gruffly. “You can take it.”
You’re floating by the time he comes, his hips stilling slowly. The buzz of your body now outdoes anything anesthesia or pain meds concocted.
Steve peppers your skin with lazy, light kisses until you remind him of your bound wrists, but then he’s overly apologetic and scrambling to free them.
He keeps himself inside you and maneuvers to sit with you on his lap.
You stay there for a while, your numb and sore arms folded between your chests. Steve only stops petting your shoulders to cradle your face, soft blue eyes roaming, adoring. He whispers concern that you’re okay, how are your legs, are you warm enough, you feeling good?
Yes, you think, you’ve taken care of your girl.
“I love seeing you like this,” he mumbles long after the pins and needles have abandoned their assault on your tired legs.
You tuck some silky hair behind his ear. “Like what? Fucked out?”
He’s floating too because he doesn’t chastise.
“Happy, healthy—“ he lets out a deep sigh “—home.”
“Speaking of home,” you say, inching ever so slightly higher to let him slide out of you, “wanna cuddle in bed all night and not get up until someone tries to break in the door?”
That knocks some of the glow off him. He drags a hand down his face. “Oh god, the poor people who have to clean this thing…”
“Let’s be honest,” you snort. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s been on you, but if it’s that big of a deal, we could go hose you down before handing our equipment in.”
He smiles, shaking his head in dismissal.
With his help, you climb off his lap and slowly shimmy up your bottoms, realizing he did truly make a mess of you both.
Steve looks down at his own lap, horrified. “Do I need to burn this?”
“That sounds like a challenge to make you filthier,” you consider, but maybe you should change into your civies before exiting the jet…
“Ya know,” Steve muses, passing over to the small locker of clothing overhead and grabbing a t-shirt and sweats, “I almost got shot in the head today, and you had three bullets fished outta you a week ago. I’m thinking we’ve earned a vacation.”
Workaholic Steve? Actively applying for time off? You’ll be damned.
“My my my, Captain Rogers…the real dirty talk begins.”
He huffs out a laugh and blushes.
“Well, I know we didn’t do anything more special than dinner for our anniversary, so…” He pulls you to his chest again, smelling of slightly musty laundry and pungent sex. “Let’s go on a fucking vacation.”
Your neck cranes to his height to see a soft smile. Oof, he’s good.
 “I missed you,” he adds like a prayer, “and you’re the badass who saved me.”
He giggles at your scrunched nose and watches you bask in that glory.
“Like I said, you’re welcome—“ you hug Steve, letting his warmth radiate through you, moving in time with his rising and falling chest “—and I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He kisses the crown of your head.
When you open the bombay doors, there’s a thermos left at the base of the ramp, a folded paper tucked beneath it. 
We should talk about how to better soundproof the jets. Brought you some refreshments. It’s hazelnut. ~Bucky
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A/N: I sincerely give up on editing this anymore, so I hope it turned out okay 🙇🏻‍♀️
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