#hey at least the laundry was folded and done

[anxiously-going]

Fun ways to know the Level Headed One ™️ is around: You hear someone sigh in exasperation when you glance around an empty room before dropping the single socks back into the laundry hamper.

[boomerang109]

i have genuinely been very productive today and that’s a very big deal for me!

i have not, however, packed or cleaned out the fridge or finished the dishes. and i leave for the airport in 13 hours. i need to do those things

[tiredfox64]

Can we shower Tomas and bi-han with some pampering after he's had a bad day? <3

A Well-deserved Rest

Prior notes: I'd give my attention to Tomas. Bi-Han can care for himself. Or let the other ladies in this world take care of him. It won't be me.

Pairings: Bi-Han x Gn reader, Tomas x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: Nah

Bi-Han

Being the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei is not an easy task. It never was. He had to observe many men while being summoned by Liu Kang at random times. It’s a constant runaround with little to no time to rest. Not to mention Bi-Han would never allow himself to relax. Always on guard and alert in case of anything. He’s only relaxed when he sleeps yet there were times when he would shoot straight up and be alert for nothing.

This day was somehow worse. Nobody in the clan was doing anything right. Their forms were off. Some of the new initiates were acting scared and backing out of fights. Bi-Han didn’t even have his brothers by his side to help find another way to correct these fools. For once, he gave up. No more for the day. He ended training early, had something quick for dinner, and went to the bedroom to finally rest. You were folding the laundry as he walked in. The instance he did it was like you already knew something was off.

“Today wasn’t too good, huh?” You casually asked.

He groaned as a response which was all you needed to hear. You stopped what you were doing and got right to work.

“Take your clothes off.” You commanded.

“I don’t want to-“

“That’s not the reason I am asking you to take your clothes off.”

Bi-Han wasn’t sure what you were planning until you went into the bathroom that was connected to your room. You walked over to the freestanding bathtub and turned the water on. The water began to fill the tub and you began putting in a little bit of soap. Can’t have the bath too bubbly, he doesn’t like it that way. You put a few drops of lavender essential oil in it to make it more relaxing. Light some scented candles and you just made a relaxing atmosphere. You called Bi-Han in and he was somewhat surprised with how quickly you prepared everything.

 As he slipped into the tub you started grabbing other stuff like towels and fresh clothes for him. The warm water was already doing him wonders by relaxing his muscles. He leaned against the side of the bathtub and you came up behind him. You knelt down and started unraveling his hair from his tight bun. His obsidian hair flowed down and you shook it up a little to relieve the scalp. You got right to work with wetting his hair before pouring some shampoo in your hands. Your fingers slipped through his thick strands, carefully as to prevent accidentally yanking on it. Bi-Han can’t lie, he prefers if you were the one to wash his hair. You take better care of it and massage his scalp at the same time.

In a matter of five minutes you got him to relax, almost forgetting the frustrating day he had. You washed the shampoo out of his hair. Careful, don’t get it in his eyes. Then you went to focusing on his face. He’s not big on you doing something with his face with your fancy and pricy products but you always insist. He gives in because he loves you enough to do so. You started rubbing your face washes on his face. He keeps jerking his head away but you reposition his head to get the job done. Hey, at least you’re not doing a clay mask on him. He should be grateful this is the only thing you are doing for him.

Some time passes and he’s about ready to get out. You practically took care of everything for him. He never realized how tense his muscles were before. You passed him a towel and left the fresh clothes in the bathroom for him to change into. Bi-Han was ready to hit the hay but you had one more thing to do. When he sat on the bed you came up behind him and told him to sit still. In your hand was a comb which you started to use on his hair. It helped take the potential knots that were in there. Another example of you taking better care of his hair than he does.

You finished quickly. Now he can sleep. He was much more relaxed than when he first walked into the bedroom. You did the simplest things to him yet it did wonders. Bi-Han began to lay in bed and so did you after putting everything away. The tub was drained, candles extinguished, clothes folded, and a happy partner. You brought him close to you, resting his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you closer. He took a deep sigh before saying,

“Thank you…” He whispered.

You know him so well. You knew he wasn’t the type to talk about his day. You never had to say a word you went right to taking care of him. For that, he is grateful to have you in his arms.

Tomas

Building a new clan was hard. Finding the right initiates was like hunting a snow bunny in Alaska. The only luck Tomas had was with Hanzo but he was his own challenge. Getting him to listen or calm down was a hassle. That’s what happens when a teenager is dropped into the care of someone who doesn’t have a clue about how to handle a raging teen.

Some days had their ups and others had their downs. Some days were a breeze with little to no casualties. Others…not so lucky. This day was one of those unlucky days.

Tomas was hungry and tired. He didn’t even have the energy to cook himself a meal. Luckily, you were just finishing up in the kitchen area. You smiled once you saw him. You were planning on surprising him with his favorite meal.

“Aww, you ruined the surprise. I thought I would have more time before you were finished training the initiates.” You acted like you were upset but that smile on your face betrayed your tone.

He looked at you confused, tilting his head to the side as he waited to see what you meant. Once he saw you place the slow braised pieces of beef on the plate he knew what you meant. His stomach growled like a plea to Tomas to take a bite out of that delicious piece of meat. You had him sit down at a nearby table and placed the food in front of him. It was still hot but he couldn’t wait. He dug in before you could place the basket of bread slices in front of him. The poor man was starving. You were his savior that blessed him with amazing food. His mood had already improved.

Once he was done you both made your way to the bedroom to get ready for bed. For some reason you were clinging onto Tomas a lot. No wait, there was a reason, you wanted to make him feel better. Even when he was brushing his teeth you were hugging him from behind while leaving kisses on his neck. Don’t worry, he was absolutely loving it. It got better when you both got into bed. You brought him close to you and had him lay his head on your lap. Your fingers ran through his hair as your other hand went to hold his hand.

“Do you want to tell me about your day?” You asked.

He sighed at first before deciding to let out all his frustrations. You were always to listen anyway. He ran through everything, the training, the initiates, trying to calm Kuai Liang down from his frustration, helping train Raiden, the usual struggle. Throughout that whole rant of his, you kept looking right into your eyes while your fingers ran through his silvery hair. Your thumb rubbed over the top of his hand to keep him calm and reduce any instance of him getting worked up from talking about the issues of the day. What also helped keep him grounded was your words. You assured him that he was doing his best, that nobody expects perfection, and that everyone appreciates him. He does so much for everyone and though that can be overwhelming it also felt good to know that he is appreciated for his efforts. Especially to hear those words come from your lips.

By the end of his rant he felt mentally lighter. Only when he was done did Tomas realize all the things you were doing. You looked at him so lovingly with no sense of judgment or annoyance. He started to relax more to the sensation of your fingers massaging his scalp.

“Thank you, my dearest. You have no idea how much you mean to me.” He said.

“Even if I didn’t know, that wouldn’t stop me from caring for you every day.” You smiled at him before giving him a kiss that he needed and deserved.

At least Tomas knows now that even if he has a bad day, coming back to you means his day will end on a good note. His love for you increased. He knows for certain that he wants you by his side all the time. He never wants to let you go.

After notes: I hate posting late I’m sorry. I was trying to take multiple naps but each time I tried I would end up panicking in my sleep. Also sorry it took long for me to get to this I hope i didn’t upset you. Adiós!

[luffyslove]

Everyone Adores You

My Calc grade just went down 5% so I need my captain to cheer me up<3

I wrote this while listening to "Everyone Adores You (at least I do)" by Matt Maltese, so keep that in mind<3

Pairing: Luffy x GN!Reader

Warnings⚠️: None, just fluff

You were the newest member of the crew, having only joined a few months ago. Everyone tried their best to make you feel at home, but a part of you felt like you just didn't belong.

You were in your room, staring at the ceiling. Everyone else was in the kitchen enjoying their dinner but here you were, locked up in your room. You felt bad, they never did anything to make you feel out of place and yet, it was like you couldn't get comfortable with them.

They are strangers, after all, you thought to yourself. But, that isn't what you thought when The Strawhats saved your village. When they saved your village, you saw how close they really were. They were family, not just a group of friends. When Luffy came back and asked you to join his crew covered in bruises with a big grin on his face, there was no way you could say no.

I need fresh air. You made your way onto the deck and leaned over the railing of the ship. The cold night air flowing through your hair. You closed your eyes and let the breeze take you in. Was it weird for the others when they joined the crew? You could hear everyone in the kitchen, talking, singing, bickering, and mainly trying to defend their food from your captain. You smiled to yourself, thinking about all of the things your captain has done for you. He saved your village, protected everyone you know and love, and brought peace back. All because you gave him some meat when he was hungry.

Flashback~

It was a hot summer day. You were in your small house, trying to distract yourself from the fact that a group of pirates were taking over. You wanted to go out and teach them a lesson, you really did, but you were too scared. Here you were staring outside the kitchen window, hoping, praying, that someone would come along and save everything you know. As you looked outside the kitchen window, you noticed there were two pirate ships, but they both had different flags. Strange, you thought. You went back to your cooking and made sure to turn the stove on low. You can't have your house burning down in a time like this. You went upstairs to do your daily chores, trying to distract yourself from the noise outside. The pirates weren't really destroying anything, just going into houses and taking things. It was only so long before they reached your house on the top of the hill. Folding your laundry upstairs, you looked outside the window and noticed that there was a guy wandering around aimlessly. He had raven black hair with a strawhat hung around his neck, a red vest covering the majority of his chest. He had jean shorts and flip flops, perfect for this hot weather. You were watching as his arms were dragging along the sand when he just slammed into the ground unexpectedly.

What the! Oh my god!, you rushed outside to go help the guy. You crouched down to his level, "Hey! Are you okay?! Hurry and get up there's pirates here and you can get hurt!" You tried to get him to sit up but it was like you couldnt get a good grip on his body. "Hey! Are you listening?! They could kill you!" You lifted his head up, "You got any food?" You were taken aback, THERES PIRATES AND HES WORRYING ABOUT FOOD!? Your eyes met his and you swear you had never been so captivated by someone's eyes before. He looked so sweet, so kind, and yet you've never met. "Here, I'm cooking right now, my house is on that hill over ther-" as you pointed to your house it was like a gush pf air went past you and he was gone. When you walked inside you saw the man who you learned was named 'luffy', sitting down at the dinner table looking at you in awe. You gave him a plate of the meat you were cooking, explaining how scared you were, how you hoped that the pirates weren't hurting any of your friends or family. Tears were threatening to fall from your eyes, you looked down to wipe them, when you felt a someone put force on your head. Looking up you saw the Luffy had placed his strawhat on your head, "Don't worry Y/N, I'll take care of them." Luffy grinned, and it wasn't like anything you've ever seen. His eyes squinted and all you could hear was his laugh, he pet your head and brought you in close. "But, but why Luffy?" You asked, "Because you're my friend silly!" And with that he was off.

End of Flashback~

It seemed like so long ago. You couldn't help but smile at how caring Luffy is. "What are you doing out here by yourself Y/N? Everyone is inside having fun" You looked back at your captain, He must have noticed I was gone and came to look for me, "I just need some fresh air Luffy" Luffy walked up next to you, "Listen, I'm not the best with emotions but, I know when something is wrong with my crew" Luffy stared intently at you, "I just, I don't know how to explain it" you looked down at your hands on the railing, "You can just spit some words out, I'll put them together" Luffy smiled, What a sweetheart, "Sometimes I feel like I don't belong lu, its like, everyone has their place, and I'm just here. I'm not as good as fighting as you or zoro, I can't have my own job like sanji or chopper, I can't build like ussop, I can't-"

"but you're caring" you looked at luffy, "you're the one who makes sure everyone is taken care of, you're the one who reminds zoro to keep his neck in a certain position when he sleeps, you're the one who helps sanji wash the dishes and put away the food after dinner, you're the one who helps chopper with the medicine, you're the one who-" "but luffy what does that really matter? Were a pirate crew and thats all im good for, helping others?" Luffy looked at your for a moment, "things wouldn't run on this ship without you. Before you, everyone had their own things to do, but we always had trouble when knowing who to turn to for help, or if someone needed help. It's like you go through your day making sure everyone has someone to rely on, no one thinks less of you. You may not be as strong as zoro or sanji right now, but I'm sure with some training you'll do just fine." Luffy smiled at you, putting his hand on your waist.

"I mean, come on Y/N, we could go inside that kitchen and ask everyone and I'm sure no one would have anything bad to say about you! Everyone thinks you're such a great help! Everyone thinks you fit right in! Everyone thinks you're getting better at fighting! Everyone-" You pressed a finger to his lips, giggling

"Okay luffy, now you're just saying things" you laughed. He stared at you, "No I'm not, you're perfect" Luffys grip on your waist tightened, "Everyone thinks you're the best, you're like a piece of home for us" "Oh yeah luffy? Did you ask everyone how they felt about me and they told you all that" You grabbed luffys hand giggling at his speech "No, but its how I feel about you. You're an amazing person Y/N, I'm sure if we asked they would have plenty of great things to say about you. But when I say everbody, I'm mostly referring to me. I like having you here with me." You stopped and looked at your captain, trying to find a hint of something to say that this was all a joke, but there was none. Instead he looked at you with a straight face, placing his other hand on your lower back, he was basically hugging you.

"Luffy," "I'm serious Y/N, I haven't felt like this before" You placed one of your hands on luffys chest, the other caressing his cheek with your thumb. "Thanks captain" "Stay with me" You looked at luffy, "What?" "I said stay with me" "luffy what are you talking about" Luffy brought you closer to him, your faces only inches apart, "I don't want you doubting yourself anymore, I already told you you're perfect for everyone, but you're mostly perfect for me. I'm not very smart, but you are, I don't think a lot, but you do, I don't have anything going for me, but you do. Please, stay with me forever Y/N, I, like, like you" The last part made you burst out laughing, he said all of that to confess his feelings as, 'like, like' Luffys face grew red "Hey! I'm telling you my feelings and you'd making fun of your captain?!" Luffy pouted

I guess this is his confession, "Yes, Captain, I'll stay with you." luffy jumped up, shouting, "Yipeeeee!" What did you just get yourself into?

"So you're like, my parter right? My lover?" Luffy asked, "Uh, yeah?" "So do we get to kiss?" Luffy stared at you with his dark eyes being illuminated by the moonlight, "Well yes, but luf-" before you knew it his lips were pressed into yours. They were slightly chapped because of the cold air but they were soft and welcoming at the same time. The kiss was quick and gentle, luffy kept his hands on your waist and lower back.

"Let's go tell everyone!"

You were in for the teasing of a lifetime, but with your captain grabbing your hand and smiling at you, you wouldnt mind being by his side forever, even if it meant being teased.

A/N: I wish Luffy was real </3. I wrote this in like an hour, so I hope it's not too bad

Xi

[augustinewrites]

miya osamu is a busy man.

even on days that the shop is closed, there’s always something to do, whether it’s prepping for the next day, or going over inventory. he’s used to rising early and sleeping late.

miya osamu, however, is also a little weak when it comes to you.

so when you’d asked the day before if he wanted to bake bread with you, he’d immediately said yes.

and sure, he has a laundry list of things that need to be done today - a leaky sink that needs to be looked at, a batch of umeboshi he’s supposed to start - but he just couldn’t tell you no. couldn’t even fathom the idea.

did he know anything about baking bread? absolutely not, but how hard could it be, really? it’s bread. if you’d asked him to help you bake and decorate a five tier wedding cake, he would have said yes.

and, no, it’s not because he has a crush on you or anything like stupid tsumu who can’t mind his own business claims. stupid tsumu who keeps calling him things like whipped and a simp. stupid tsumu who has never felt the touch of a woman, he’s sure.

it’s just because he wants to be nice (to you, at least), because you’re his friend.

his friend, whose company he always sought after whether it’s walking around with you at the grocery or just stopping by to help you change a bulb. whose smile makes him weak in the knees and whose simple texts almost always make him blush.

okay, so maybe you’re a good friend.

that’s all.

“samu! come in, come in,” you greet, ushering him inside.

you’re wearing an apron when you open the door to let him inside your apartment. it’s stained with beige fingerprints, and when you turn around to lead him into the kitchen, he sees you’ve tied the strings into a cute bow, sitting right atop the curve of your—

he immediately averts his gaze when you glance over your shoulder to smile at him, his cheeks burning. baking is supposed to be a platonic activity.

“i already did the first few steps,” you explain, flicking on your kitchen light. after washing his hands, osamu rests his elbows on your island countertop, watching with interest as you pull a bowl from the fridge. “i had to refrigerate the dough for twelve hours and didn’t want to make you wait around that long, so i did it overnight. now all we have to do is shape it, let it rest, then bake!”

osamu will always be a restaurant owner first and foremost, so there’s nothing he values more than an efficient kitchen. but he is a little offended that you think he wouldn’t want to be around you for twelve hours straight.

he’s so stuck in his own head that he doesn’t notice you rounding the island until you’re next to him, shoulders brushing. that split second of contact is enough to make him wish he were brave enough to grab you by the hips and pull you in to kiss—

“okay,” you start, pulling him from his thoughts before he can spiral. “before we split the dough, we need to stretch and fold it.”

“that looks easy enough,” he says as he watches you demonstrate the procedure.

“okay big strong man,” you scoff, patting his bicep. if you notice him flexing, you don’t mention it. “don’t whine when your arms are tired after the third or fourth set.”

osamu proceeds to stretch and fold the dough, pretending not to notice the way you watch him. obviously you’re very intent on making sure he follows your instructions, pulling yourself to sit atop the counter, swinging your legs as you tell him,

“you look really good when you’re doing that.”

osamu’s just died. he’s dead, and atsumu’s finally going to be able to say he’s ma’s favourite.

“samu, are you flustered? you’re flustered, aren’t you?” you hop off the counter, poking at his cheek until he catches your hand.

because he’s tired of pretending the two of you are just friends. and if he’s going to be stuck here for 10 more hours, he has to do something about it.

“‘m not flustered,” he mumbles.

you gaze up at him, wide-eyed as he backs you away from the kitchen, finally on the offensive. “h-hey, what are you doing? what about the bread?”

“didn’t come for the bread,” he tells you quietly, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “i came here for you.”

[realmennnnn]

With Connor away on his 5-mile hike, you thoroughly clean everything in sight. You start with his laundry, including each of the glorious socks he had worn over the past week. You give all of them a brief sniff before placing them in the laundry machine. While sniffing, you become terrified that you may not have a single item of clothing to sleep with that night. You pray that Connor will give you the clothes he wore on his hike or at least his destroyed Nike sneakers to sleep with. Next, you clean the entire home, scrubbing every room and organizing any out of place items, including Connor’s massive stack of dirty dishes. You also spend a particularly long amount of time in both his mudroom and bathroom, using your tongue to clean his muddy footprints off the floor as well as all of his pee off the toilet. Afterwards, you give each of his sneakers a good cleaning, yet again using your tongue with impeccable detail while savoring each blade of grass and splotch of dirt.

With the first load of laundry done, you throw all of his bedding in the washer. You iron and fold each clothing item and can’t help but stare at his XL sized shirts, shorts, underwear, and socks once they’ve been perfectly cleaned and pressed. You recognize how lucky you are to even be in the presence of these items.

By now, it’s been three hours, and you’ve heard nothing from Connor. You become nervous that something may have happened but neglect to reach out since it’s not your place to bother your potential alpha. Instead, you move outside, mowing the entire lawn and weeding Connor’s select number of plants.

With sweat running down your entire body, you head back inside to make Connor’s bed with his freshly cleaned and pressed sheets. Finally, you head out of the house on your way to grocery store, dropping the trash into the necessary bin on your way out. You hope you’ll be allowed to wash his car tomorrow since you weren’t given access today.

Halfway to the store, and nearly five hours after Connor left, you receive a message from your Lord. “Hey, faggy. The lads wanted to do some day drinking, so I’m out with them. I’ll be home in a couple hours. You better be keeping yourself busy. By the way, pick up some dog food if you make it to the grocery store.”

You have no idea why Connor would need dog food. He certainly doesn’t have a dog. However, you refuse to question your master. You’re certain that if Connor says he needs dog food, then he needs dog food. He’s an alpha after all, so he knows best! You’re just happy that you had anticipated Connor’s desire for you to grocery shop.

As you enter the store, you couldn’t help but look at every possible item. You needed to make sure that you bought every item Connor could possibly want. You pick up six varieties of fresh meat and fish, a large helping of fruits and vegetables, and several hearty grains. Finally, you make your way to the dog food. As you look into your cart, you realize that you were likely to spend more than $200 on Connor’s food alone. You hoped he’d share some of his scraps since you hadn’t bought anything for yourself. With finances in mind, you went for the cheapest dog food possible, made with purely synthetic materials. After all, Connor didn’t have a dog, so you didn’t see a point in overspending on this item - your mistake.

After checking out at a whopping $275, you walk home, carrying an obscene amount of groceries. With four bags hanging off either arm and a bag of dog food wrapped between them, your body aches by the time you reach the grocery store parking lot! You walk as fast as you can, making it back to Connor’s house in roughly 25 minutes. You breathe heavily the entire way and nearly start crying. You remind yourself that this is only true since you’re a weak, pathetic faggot.

As soon as your home, you start your final chore of the day, cooking Connor’s glorious Sunday night meal. You realize he could be home any moment, so you get to work rapidly. You carefully put together a salad and start cooking a box of pasta. Then, you cut up even more vegetables, making a batch of tomato sauce from scratch. You don’t dare prepare a subpar dinner, and you know you must have it done on time. Connor comes first after all! You race to the finish line, hearing keys jingling in the door nearly 40 minutes later. With only the food done, you realize the dishes will have to wait until later, and you pray Connor won’t be upset.

You run over to the front door and drop to your knees. You bow your head as anticipation grows within you. You hope Connor will be pleased with your housework and cooking. Even more, though, you simply cannot wait to see your 6’3” and 220 pound master as well as his glorious size 13s. Connor steps through the front door, and you stare down at his beautiful sneakers and socks. They’re caked in dirt, and their pungent smell hits your nose with gusto. You’re immediately enamored and begin showering each sneaker with kisses, taking great joy in their scent and appearance.

Connor stumbles a bit and leans back against the door. He crosses one foot over the other and flashes a devilishly sexy grin at you. With his balance back, he steps around your weak frame. You can tell that he’s wasted and, as a result, likely highly sadistic. He drops his bag on the ground and makes his way to the couch. With such a hefty bang, you know the bag is full; you’re happy to know that his shopping trip was successful.

He lays back on the couch and turns his eyes toward the football game you had turned on for him. His sneakered feet dangle beautifully off the side of the sofa. He lets out a huge belch, and you wish you were next to him, giving it a sniff. However, like a proper fag, you wait patently by the front door for further instruction. He pulls his pants down on the couch, leaving them hanging by his knees. You look at his beautiful cock, remembering that just two days ago, you were afforded the privilege of sucking and riding it. He calls you over, using his fingers to gesture as well. “I need to take a nap, but I want my dick to be well taken care of while I’m asleep. Come over here and hold my cock in your mouth until I wake up.”

You crawl over to the couch and kneel in front of his crotch. You look up and notice that his eyes are already shut. You wonder if it would be proper to remove his sneakers from his feet. You hold off since he hasn’t directed you to do so. You wonder how sweaty his feet will be by the time his sneakers finally come off.

You crank your neck into an extremely uncomfortable position and wrap your lips around his cock. Your knees already hurt from the wooden floors, and you can tell that your neck will be in immense pain within minutes. You know it’s going to be a long few hours, but you also know you won’t get access to his feet unless you do exactly what Connor tells you.

As soon as your lips wrap around Connor’s cock, he lets out an ungodly amount of piss, made up of 100% beer. You hear him snicker for a second, laughing at the fact that you had no idea that his piss would be flooding your mouth. He knows you’ll do whatever it takes to swallow every drop. And, he’s right; per usual, you diligently swallow every single drop.

When he finishes peeing, you keep his cock in your mouth, the taste of leftover piss and dick sweat rubbing against your tongue. You take his balls into your mouth, and the flavors grow exponentially. “Good boy,” you hear Connor say. With that, you try your hardest to get comfortable, knowing you’ll be kneeling here tasting his funk and piss for hours to come - just as he asked you to do.

Connor doesn’t wake up once during his three hour nap but somehow lets out several large farts. You take pride in knowing you helped coax and keep him asleep. You also take enjoyment in the flavor of his dick funk as well as the smell of his farts. You can tell that those farts were inspired by an immense amount of greasy food and beer. They smell wonderful.

As Connor finally comes back to life, your head and knees begin to wobble. You can tell that your neck will be in pain for days to come. He reaches for his phone and starts scrolling. With Connor awake, you continue to hold his dick in your mouth but now count down the moments until you’ll be allowed to move. The anticipation of potentially being allowed out of your current position makes the pain grow ten fold.

For the third time of the day, piss starts filling your mouth, and you hope this will mark the end of your time as a human dick pouch. The piss tastes even more stale than the one from a few hours ago, but you revel in every second of it. Maybe swallowing piss is not only a godly blessing but also the purest indulgence known to a faggot.

“Get your mouth off my cock, faggot,” Connor says abruptly with his piss complete. “Time for some of that sauce you got cooking. The pasta better be ready. I ain’t waiting. Go make me a plate.” You’re happy to know that you planned appropriately for this evening.

He begins to sit up from his nap and nearly kicks you in the face. “I told you to get moving. Chop chop.” You give each sneaker another kiss and crawl to the kitchen. You hope you’ll be allowed to enjoy the dirt from his shoes as well as the foot sweat from his socks as he eats. After all, you haven’t consumed a single thing all day.

You stand up and pull the pasta out of the fridge. You place a heaping serving on to a plate, adding your homemade tomato sauce and salad on top. As you get back down on to your knees, you place the plate on your back as well as a set of silverware and a glass of water in each hand. As you crawl back to his feet, you keep your back and hands as straight as possible, refusing to let any food or water end up on the floor. However, you wouldn’t have minded being forced to lick it up. Your stomach was rumbling louder and louder by the minute.

After approaching the couch, Connor takes the plate from your back and puts it on the coffee table. You hand him his water and silverware and then bow your head, so it is resting on his sneakers. You pray he’ll let you peel them off; the steam floating off of them is far too temping. Instead, Connor rises up from the couch unexpectedly, nearly kicking you in the face once again.

“Ay, faggot. Where’s the dog food? I can hear your stomach rumbling. It’s fucking annoying.”

It’s at this time that it clicks for you. The dog food is for you. You’ll be eating dog food in place of human food for the remainder of your life - should Connor allow you to serve him for that long. “Umm, Sir Connor, it’s in the pantry, my Lord,” you say with your head still bowed.

You hear the pantry door open and the big bag of dog food moved around. Connor grabs a bowl and starts filling it. “You know how much of this you’re supposed to feed a dog? I don’t want to underfeed you.” He pauses for a second, letting out a light laugh. “Eh, never mind. You’re a faggot. What would you know?” he snickers, dumping another serving into the bowl.

He makes his way back to the couch and drops the bowl of food on to the floor. “Aw shit, faggy. You just emptied my bladder. I ain’t got any liquid for your food.” Your head remains bowed, sniffing at your meal, but the only thing you can smell are his glorious feet. You hope that smell will help you get this treacherous dog food down. “Move your head, faggot,” Connor says. He works up a loogie and spits it into the bowl. “That will have to do I guess. Now give me a bark and show me how excited you are for your first faggot meal. I thought you’d enjoy this type of food given how much time you spend with the pups,” he says as he wiggles his toes within his sneakers. “Show me how serious you are about serving me. Remember, service doesn’t only include paying for my livelihood and doing all of the chores. It also includes finding ways to spend as little money on yourself as possible. By only eating dog food and drinking my recycled beverages, I estimate nearly $60 in savings each week! That money goes straight back into my pocket! Now bark, faggy.”

You immediately start barking, letting your butt wiggle back and forth too. He didn’t ask for that, but you thought it would play into the effect nicely. He lets out another laugh. “Alright, faggot, go ahead.” You’re happy to know that he enjoyed your act.

You dive your head into the bowl and enjoy your first few loogie-covered bites. By bite number four, all of the loogie is gone, and the flavor becomes progressively worse. You don’t slow down on eating, though; you’ve never felt this hungry before in your entire life. On top of that, you’d never wanted to please someone this much in your entire life. Maybe it was a good thing that Connor dropped you as your boyfriend and made you his faggot. You seemed to be far more productive that way.

Connor attacks his meal nearly as quickly as you do yours, his eyes glued to either the TV or his food the entire time. He lets out a humongous fart followed up by an even bigger burp as his last bite slides down his throat. You sniff at both as you try to finish up your last few bites, terrified that Connor may take it away if you’re not done within seconds of his own completion. As you take your final bite, you realize you’ll have to do all of this over again tomorrow. You pray you’ll get a decent piss to help the food down.

“Ayy, faggy. Good job. You ate all of your food! I am stuffed. That pasta was pretty good, maybe a seven out of ten. Two of those are pity points, though, since I’m sure you put so much of your faggotry into making it.”

Connor turns toward the TV just in time to see the game winning point. Yet again, he nearly kicks you with his sneakered feet as he stands to cheer for the Patriots. After lobbing off a few texts to the boys about the big win, he continues his monologue. “It’s almost time for the faggot ceremony. You’ve earned it. The house and yard look great, my meal was… good enough, and you’ve done a decent job supporting my various needs. I gotta take a shit, so get to cleaning. The kitchen won’t scrub itself,” he says, letting out another laugh. Connor rises from the couch, and you give his sneakered feet yet another kiss. You pray that this so-called “faggot ceremony” will include some foot worship, but you have no idea what to expect. Maybe if you scrub the kitchen at a rapid pace, it’ll earn you some time at his feet.

Look at you, faggot. You’re doing everything in your power to impress your ex-boyfriend, Connor. You’ll literally do anything it takes to sniff and lick those size nasty 13 sneakers, socks, and feet. Think about how pathetic you are! Doesn’t matter, though, you’re loving your new life. You can’t wait to make it official with the faggot ceremony tonight!

[ashlynredonovitch]

Hello! I love your work! Wondering if I could request a Wonka fic where y/n is having a panic attack and willy finds her and helps her through it! then noodle comes in and they all have a lil family moment ^_^ (willy and y/n are platonic!)

Hi anon! thank you so much for the request! Sorry they have now taken a while longer to get out. My whole family was hit with the flu, including me, and I'm not able to write much because I just keep getting headaches. Hope you like the story!

Warnings: panic attack, anxiety, slight mention of a possible ED if you squint, malnourishment

Hope you enjoy!! :)

Panic

I just finished folding more of the laundry after it finally dried, thankfully finished after the long day of doing laundry with the wash crew. We had taken so long that Scrubitt and Bleacher hadn’t let us eat for an extra hour and a half, and since we still hadn’t gotten it done, I took the rest of the load so the others could go eat. Noodle would bring me my dinner later anyway if I didn’t eat. 

It was my fault anyway, I just was going slow today. I was on barrel duty for the majority of the day, and if the first step of the laundry is slow….the rest of it is slow as well. So I automatically felt bad that I was the reason for withholding everyone’s dinner. 

Scrubitt hadn’t let me eat though, so I would just have to wait for Noodle to bring me my food in a couple hours when she could sneak it in. I was craving something though. It gets worse if I’m thrown in the coop because then you don’t get anything at all. At least I’ll have a chance tonight. If only Willy was here. Him and Noodle are getting more milk for his chocolates while they had a chance to escape before roll call. 

I knew the panic was building up, but it just felt like I could ignore it. The feeling in my stomach from how hungry I was felt like a gnawing pain, I couldn’t even focus as I just collapsed in the corner of my small room. My mind a a million thoughts, but I probably couldn’t even try to name one, all of my focus was on the half-tempting smell of the food my fellow workers were consuming. 

I hate crying, I hate it. The feeling in my chest as it gets tighter and tighter to the point I can’t breathe, I hate the feeling of uncontrollable tears that can’t stop. For some reason though, I can’t, there are no tears. Just painful attempts at a breath. 

“She’s in there. I didn’t want to disturb her, but I’m worried,” I hear Piper say as I heard two sets of footsteps down the narrow hallway, oh, it couldn’t be. I’d be too lucky. 

A light knock was on my door, but I couldn’t even begin to try to lift my head up. 

“Y/n?” The voice questioned through my door, before gently opening it. It was apparently my lucky day. “Hey what’s going on?”

“I- I can’t-” I started before my own breathing stopped me. It felt like I was being choked. 

Willy looked concerned as he examined every inch of my face, or what I could tell from where my head was on my knees. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay. Noodle, go grab a towel!” He hollered as I could see that he tried to reach out to put his hand on my shoulder. 

Apparently once he felt my trembling shoulders he decided I wasn’t well, even without me answering. As Noodle ran in with a towel, Willy instructed her to put water on it. “You’re trembling terribly, here take this.” He offered me his plum-colored tailcoat as he put it over my shoulders, as I stayed curled up in the ball. 

“Thank you,” I managed to whisper out as he tried to loop his arms under me to help me stand. 

“Of course, you know I’d do anything to help you, y/n.” He says earnestly as he guides me over to my small bed. “Here, get under the covers.”

He instructed Noodle to do something else gets that I couldn’t hear. Which I soon would understand as Noodle rushed in with the extra blanket from Willy’s own bed, as he laid it across me. It finally felt like my chest wasn’t being weighted down with a boulder, the comfort of my friend greatly easing my mind. However….

“Y/n, have you eaten anything today?” Noodle hurriedly asked when she stopped. That’s when Willy looked frantically over at me as well, as he sat on my bed. 

“No, I made everyone fall behind earlier, so Scrubitt wouldn’t let me eat.” I say as the tears started to slow, hopefully the last of the bunch as Willy slowly massaged my scalp with his hand. 

“I’m gonna go fix that, I’ll be right back.” She said as she skidded across the floor. 

Not before I let out a quiet “don’t get thrown in the chicken coop” causing the man behind me to let out a quiet laugh. 

“I was really scared when Piper said you isolated yourself in here.” Willy told me, as I tried to look up at him from where I was laying. 

“Sorry,” I told him nonchalantly, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, you were having a panic attack, I just got worried. How about after you get some actual food in you, I’ll make your favorite chocolate to cheer you up?” He asked as he continued to rub my head. 

I smiled as I felt the other muscles in my body relaxed, “that sounds really nice.”

“You’re safe now, y/n, Noodle is going to get you dinner, and then we’ll find some funny combination for tonight’s chocolate.” He smiled at me as I listened to him talk, nodding my head at his eagerness. Never had someone been able to help me through an attack that quickly. Even though it had felt like hours, Willy just had a certain charm about him that made it easy to relax. At least now I know someone is there to help me should the need arise again.

[strawb3rrystar]

Can I have a SDV Shane x Fem!Reader where the reader is dancing in her house to a sexual song. Shane finds her doing it, and it goes from there?

Dirty dancing.

Pairing: Shane x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Very suggestive

Word count: 314

✰Masterlist

Chores in the house weren't usually done by you. They were handled by Shane, while you did all the farm work. But today one of the chickens was acting up and your lovely husband had to take care of it. Leaving you to fold the laundry.

You put on some music to make the task less boring. It was just some random playlist you found, nothing too serious. While you folded, you were humming and dancing a little to the rhythm.

A partially sexual song comes on, but you pay no mind to the lyrics, getting lost in your own little world. You didn't even notice when Shane walked in on you, dancing in the living room.

When the song was finished, you laughed to yourself because of how much fun you were having. But you get interrupted when Shane clears his throat, startling you. "Hey, sweetie! Is the chicken alright?"

Shane doesn't answer you, walking up and grabbing your hips. "What was that?"

"Uh- dancing?" You respond, tilting your head. You were quite confused to say the least. Shane pulls you closer to him. "It was hot."

"Thank you." The compliment made your body heat up. Shane leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. "And to such a sexual song too."

"Oh! I didn't realize." Your body felt like it was on fire from desire. His fingers rub circles on your hips as he trails sloppy kisses on your neck. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart. Swaying your hips and shaking your ass like no one's watching."

Shane sucked a little, leaving a small hickey on your collarbone. "It does things to me, you know?"

You play with his hair as he kisses your neck up to your ear, whispering in it. "Do you wanna take your dancing to the bedroom, sweetheart?"

That laundry wasn't getting done anytime soon. But you definitely were.

Star's notes -> I seem to be struggling a lot to write smut scenes recently :((

(Thank you, @halloweenbitch2764 for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @little-miss-chaoss @parasite-b @naathanuwu @sweetadonisbutbetter | Join the taglist

[m00nc4kes]

ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ.

ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ x ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ: 1.9k

ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: Gen

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Laundry day leads to an existential crisis.

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: no pronouns mentioned but reader is called mommy once (for context, Hobie/Reader have a kid :3); afab! reader hinted at but not explicit! (i mean... blink and you'll miss it lol); everyone is normal in this au

There wasn't anything special about today. It was like any other uneventful day you'd lived. Yet it was the first time that you’d questioned your life’s decisions.

And it had to be during laundry day.

The gentle drum of the dryers behind you and the whirring of fans filled the air. It had been a hot day, so there was a sheen to your brown skin. Several loads of clothes, blankets, and other important fabrics had been washed already; thanks to the teamwork of you and your spouse. Said spouse had draped himself over a nearby table, no doubt fighting through a heat-induced mental fog.

"Bee," you said, folding up another towel. He responded with a light hum which brought a small smile to your face. "How much time is left on that dryer?"

After a moment and a deep inhale, he raised his head and squinted his eyes to see the timer on the last dryer. "Five minutes."

You flicked your gaze over toward him. "Still?"

"Bloody thing must be broken." He wasted no time resting his head back on the table. "Said five minutes ten minutes ago," he mumbled. 

"At least we know our stuff's gonna be dry." That elicited another hum out of him and you snickered. 

The sun continued to beat against the old laundromat, making it damn near miserable to work in. Though, thanks to your glorious planning, you wouldn't have to stay here much longer. Sure, waking up at the crack of dawn felt damn near impossible especially with someone who hated getting up early. But hey, it worked out didn't it?

A sharp buzz cut through the air, making the two of you jump.

"Fuckin' finally," Hobie said under his breath as he grabbed hold of one of the laundry carts. 

You watched as he gathered the rest of your belongings— admiring his deep brown skin, the concentrated crease of his brow, and the way sweat slowly crept down his jawline. Your gaze found itself on the stubble on his chin, then down his arms and his fingers where a flash of silver could be seen on one of them. A wedding ring.

Your shameless ogling was put to an end when amber eyes locked with yours. You attempted to look away but you knew you'd been caught. Not that you cared either way, your man was fine as hell. The thought put a grin on your face.

You folded up your last towel and let out a satisfied sigh. You'd done it. You stared at your piles of towels, all of various sizes, until the smile slowly fell off your face. You looked around the laundromat, watching various customers fan themselves or separate their clothes into differently sized washers. Then a thought struck you:

Did you have any regrets?

You felt your brows furrow in confusion. Regrets? Was there anything to regret?

Your mind wandered to the different lives you could've lived. The different lives Hobie could've lived. What if he had never chosen you? There was so much personality contained inside of him— he was loud, he was passionate— 

Did you hold him back from his full potential? Did he hold you back from yours?

You couldn't help but think back to the ring on Hobie's finger. Marriage had been your idea, but he hadn't complained— never. 

A horrible feeling built in your chest, making you clench your hands into fists. In some other life, would doing laundry make you feel as accomplished as you did now? Were you meant for more?

The sound of a cart rolling towards you dragged you out of your mind. 

"Liven up, love, we got one more load," Hobie called from behind the cart. That's what he said, your mind replied. You snickered, making Hobie nudge your side. "Oi, get your mind outta the gutter."

You waved him off as you pulled the clothes out of the cart and onto the counter. Tiny shirts and pants sprawled across the countertop, successfully bringing a smile back to your face. You were reminded of a conversation from earlier.

"Ri said she was going to pick Malakai up, right?" You started in on folding the shirts as Hobie began on the pants. 

"Yeah, she wanted some quality Auntie time with him."

You laughed. "I figured."

Folding shirt after shirt put your mind back into its incessant line of questioning. 

Did you regret it?

What exactly, you didn’t know. Your marriage? Your child? The line of choices and half-assed decisions that landed you into this godforsaken laundromat? Was that it?

You set the small, folded Spider-man shirt down onto an ever-growing pile of clothes. You reached for another shirt but hesitated.

“Y’alright, lovey?” Hobie’s words suddenly snapped you back into reality. You averted your gaze, suddenly ashamed of your mind’s questioning. You didn’t want it to seem like you didn’t love your little family or your life, but— “(Y/N)?”

You finally brought yourself to look at him. He was concerned, maybe a bit confused, but mostly concerned. You gave him a weak smile. “I’m alright, Bee.”

He soured, unconvinced. Then shook his head. “Nah, don’t gimme that. What’s on your mind?”

Damn him and his observance. 

“Really, it’s nothing important. Just…” You looked down at the little shirts in front of you. “He’s getting so big, ain’t he?”

You felt Hobie rest his head on you. “He is.” His voice was laced with a twinge of sadness. You both knew your son couldn’t stay little forever, but it didn’t make it any easier. Hobie spoke again, this time on a firmer note, “But I’m bein’ serious, love. Is somethin’ the matter? Saw you sulkin’ before I came over.”

You blew air out your mouth. “Mm…” You debated on telling him, but you knew he would only grow more insistent. You two were trying to work on your communication after all. “Do you regret not taking that record deal? Y’know, choosin’ to stop performing ‘n all.”

The question made him grow quiet. It was a sore subject because you knew how much Hobie wanted to perform. He was made for the stage— and to have that all taken away from him by a single decision…

“No.” Came the sudden answer. It was firm and resolute.

You moved to look at him, baffled. “Really? Why not?”

He huffed as if the answer wasn’t obvious. “I wouldn’t have you or Malakai, now would I?” 

“Well— no, but you wouldn’t be stuck at some dumb job or in this hot ass laundromat. Wasn’t playing your dream?”

“What are ya gettin’ at?” He gave a confused laugh. “It was, but I made my decision and I’ve made peace wit’ it.”

You grabbed another shirt, attempting to digest his answer. “I… don’t really know what I’m getting at. It’s just— is this what our life is destined to be?” You made a frustrated noise and dragged a hand down your face. “I just don’t want to have any regrets.”

“Do you regret meetin’ me?”

You whipped your head in his direction. “No! Never!” 

“Do you regret having Malakai?”

Passionately, you said, “Not in a million years.”

A smile formed on Hobie’s face. “Then what do you regret?”

Nothing, your hypocrite of a mind answered. You released a heavy sigh. “I don’t… I don’t know.” 

Your husband made an understanding noise and pulled you into a side hug. “If it makes you feel any better, duck, I enjoy this life that I have with you. Even in this swelterin’ laundromat. I wouldn’t choose anythin’ different.”

You leaned into the hug, wrapping your arms around him to turn it into a full hug. “I… I think the heat is starting to get to me.” You nuzzled into him and felt him chuckle.

“Then let’s finish this up, yeah?”

You knew the conversation would be brought back up eventually, especially with such an abrupt ending. You hoped you’d be better prepared to explain your quarter-life crisis. 

With all the laundry neatly folded and delicately placed into the van, you could finally free yourself from the shackles of the early morning to afternoon chore. You put yourself in the passenger seat of your van as Hobie cranked up the AC. Before you knew it, you were on the road.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while you tried to find a reason for your previous reminiscing. After a few minutes, you settled on the fact that the laundromat needed to fix their air conditioner and that you needed to stop frying your brain by thinking about the endless possibilities and life paths you two could’ve gone down.

It was strange to think about.

In some other life, Hobie could’ve been a rockstar. 

In some other life, you could’ve been whatever you wanted to be.

Yet, in this life—

“Hobie, do you think, in some other universe, Spider-man is real?”

“Oh boy, I see your existential crisis has grown legs.”

You gently nudged him with a laugh. “C’mon, answer!”

“Okay, okay. Maybe? Ion know— what kind of questionin’ is that?”

“I mean, what would you do if you were Spider-man?”

He made an incredulous noise. “Me? Spider-man? Come out of it, love.”

“You’re not indulging me!” You whined, putting a smile on Hobie’s face.

He rolled his eyes, feigning irritation. “My days— I’d be Spider-man, I guess? What do you want me to say?”

You hummed then frowned. “Your answer sucks.”

That drew a laugh from your husband that tickled you. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Eventually, the laughter died down and Hobie found a parking spot along the curb. The two of you hopped out of the van, mentally preparing to haul all of your laundry upstairs.

Hobie, however, hadn’t seemed to drop your previous conversation. “Do you believe there’s a universe where you’re the villain and I’m the hero?”

You couldn’t help but pause what you were doing to glare at him with full offense. “First of all,” you balked, “there’s so many things wrong with that sentence! Why am I the villain, asshole?”

Hobie put his hands up in mock-defense. “I know my type, love.”

“Second—” you broke out in a laugh. “Pffft— your type?!” You couldn’t help but double over with laughter. God, you married such a goofball. 

“In your defense—”

“My defense?”

“— you’d probably be a misguided villain of some sort.”

You shook your head. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But you would never be a hero of any sort. More like a vigilante or something.”

“Ah, you know me so well.” He casually ‘congratulated’ you with a kiss to your forehead, then a nice kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, you gracefully pulled him in for another.

All previous worries hid themselves into the darkest parts of your mind, blinded by the love you two shared for each other. 

Maybe, in some other life, you weren’t fortunate enough to have him by your side.

Or maybe, you were a misguided villain and he was a “non-hero” vigilante.

But, in this life—

In the distance, you could hear a pair of tiny sneakers tapping against the sidewalk, heading in your direction. You and Hobie both perked up at the sound with matching grins.

From where you two stood, you could see your son’s locs bounce up and down as he excitedly headed your way with open arms. His all-too-big backpack nearly engulfed him, but it didn’t stop him from running top speed to reach his destination. With the biggest grin he could muster, he called out to you.

Your swore your heart grew along with your smile.

In this life, you had survived laundry day.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

So, how could you ever have any regrets?

header by me :0, divider by cafekitsune :3

hey hey heyyyy long time no see- lemme just say I wrote this while I was at the laundromat HAHA with the combination of the everything everywhere all at once soundtrack, i had an existential crisis lol

see you soon babes!!

[denspollen]

a miserably sick someone, a, and their partner b, who’s starting to feel a little sniffly themselves. they’re curled up on the couch together, a having only just woken up from a nap in their lover’s lap — perhaps b’s been muffling sneezes of their own and wasn’t quite quiet enough at a certain point.

either way, they’re both feeling shitty, though one certainly more than the other. a feels so bad that they’ve gotten their partner sick after trying so hard not to. but hey — at least they can cuddle without fear now. this gives a an idea.

“hey,” they start, words heavy with congestion as a grin tugs at their lips, chapped from breathing through their mouth for so long. “now that we’re both sick, and we don’t have to worry about germs anymore…”

b smirks right back at them. “what are you implying, huh?”

a doesn’t need to offer any verbal confirmation — they just sit up and let themselves melt against their partner’s lips, and god does it feel incredible.

pulling away every ten or so seconds to catch their breath, exhaling heavily through their mouth given that their nose is decidedly out of commission right now. delicate moans of pleasure from the pair of them at the sensation of such intimate contact for the first time in what feels like forever. b pressing tender kisses to the bridge of a’s stuffy nose, red-raw and entirely full of cold. desperate, shuddering sneezes muffled into the crook of b’s neck, a not-so-subtle reminder that, though this is definitely making them feel better, a is still feeling horribly unwell.

b, on the other hand, doesn’t feel all too bad. sure, it’s only the first day that they’ve started noticing symptoms, but the way things went for a, with everything coming on at once, they have a feeling this cold won’t be as terrible for them as it is for their poor partner.

they’ve been sniffly and sneezy all day, and a little tired, but they reckon this may be the extent of things. and it’s not surprising that they’re feeling drowsy, anyways — they haven’t had time to rest properly since they’ve been taking care of a, not even a moment to do their usual chores like folding the laundry or cleaning the house.

they both sleep very well that night, and the next morning, a’s feeling a little better. but b?

oh, b feels awful. their head is entirely clogged, throat so sore just trying to clear it feels like agony. upon b’s sleepy morning greeting to them, their only response is an exhausted, heavy sneeze and a drawn-out sniffle.

a’s brow furrows in concern. “bless you… looks like you got it as bad as me, huh?”

“i think,” b mutters stuffily, pausing to reach for a tissue and dab at their streaming nose. “we shouldn’t have done that last night.”

“how come?” a frowns. “you were sick anyways.”

b can only shake their head as their breath hitches miserably, raising their elbow to their face. “n-no, i… hh’ETSCHHhuh!… ugh. i think maybe that might’ve been allergies yesterday. haven’t… haven’t dusted in a while.”

“ah.” a look of guilty realisation crosses across a’s still fever-flushed face. “god, i’m so sorry.”

b just shrugs. “s’fine. was probably bound to catch this anyways.”

“mm.”

“so… you wanna…?”

b doesn’t need to ask them twice.

[mountingpulisic]

FAR FROM DONE PART TWO

warnings : smut

part one

as soon as the sound of thunder rippled through the house, mason knew he was finally going to have the upper hand. 

you had absolutely hated thunderstorms. 

ever since you were little, they scared you beyond belief. always needing another warm body to offer you comfort and soothe your anxiety when it came to bearing the storm. 

smiling devilishly to himself as he folded his laundry, mason mentally thanked the meteorologist that spoke on the television, he was advising everyone to stay indoors and seek shelter due to the intensity of the storm. . 

peeking over his shoulder to look at you, mason’s ego soared as you nervously diverted your attention from him back to the television. 

“oh look at that love, weather guy saying it’s supposed to get real nasty.” emphasizing the word nasty as he cutely scrunched up his nose. 

he couldn’t hold back the grin on his face.

the last time a storm traveled over the city of cobham, you two kept yourselves distracted by the one thing you were withholding from him.

sex 

he hoped that the arrival of this storm was the push that you needed to finally end this stupid silent treatment you’ve been giving him for the past nine days. 

he was sexually frustrated beyond belief. growing tired of using his hand to do a job that your mouth had already perfected. 

gleefully imagining how the rest of the night was going to play out, mason skipped up the stairs to your shared bedroom to store away his clothing, his smile only growing when he heard you follow close behind. 

shuffling into the bedroom, you were sure to keep a healthy but comfortable distance between the two of you. 

you knew mason was absolutely loving the thought of this storm occurring and you finally having to talk to him. 

you thought of any other possible resolutions that could keep your anxiety about the storm at bay, however you came up empty handed. 

taking a stroll down memory lane, you remembered back to the actions that kept your mind preoccupied as the storm traveled through, you couldn’t help but to bite your lip as you suppress a moan. 

you would never tell him, but you were equally touch deprived as him. you thought with the silent treatment you could’ve at least remained stabled with the help of your vibrator, but mason had caught wind of you pleasuring yourself one night and took it upon himself to hide it. 

you had torn the bedroom apart looking for it as he smugly watched you while brushing his teeth, if he wasn’t able to enjoy a proper orgasm, neither were you. 

mind snapping back to reality when you heard yet another gust of wind against the house, you began to feel yourself panic. you wanted to keep up the silence between the two of you, you needed to teach him a lesson about his careless flirting but the way your heart had begun to pick up speed, you decided it wouldn’t hurt to wave the white flag just for tonight. 

“mase.” you whispered,  eyes beginning to roll when he pretended as if he didn’t hear you. 

“mason.” you spoke sterner, causing the golden boy to act clueless as he looked up from the dresser drawer “the storm.” you gestured outside, as if he didn’t notice the heavy rain and gusting winds. 

before he could deliver a smart ass comment, the lights had flickered off as the boom of thunder hit. 

jumping slightly and letting out a small scream, mason was quick in approaching your side and engulfing you into his arms. 

“hey, it’s okay. im right here.” he spoke softly into your hair, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your back. “i’m right here.” 

to say you didn’t miss his embrace would be a lie, you had missed that more than anything. mason had always been an amazing at comforting people, as if his arms alone diminished any sense of worry that ran through your body.

tugging you closer into him, mason began to make way towards the bed, sitting down on the edge as he pulled you to stand between his spreaded legs, rubbing your arms.

“everything is going to be okay, the weatherman said it should subside in the next hour or two.” 

how in the world were you suppose to keep your mind off the raging storm for the next two hours?

it was as if mason read your mind as his fingers began to stroke back and forth on your exposed legs before settling on your ass where he gave it a firm squeeze. 

you wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him that he was out of his mind if he thought you were going to let him shag you and he hasn’t even apologized for his behavior yet. 

keyword there being wanted.

your mouth betrayed you as you let out a breathy moan that mason took as confirmation to continue his journey on exploring your body, grasping you from behind your thighs as he pulled you into the position of straddling him. 

mason began placing delicate kisses alongside your neck, sucking the skin occasionally as he grinded his hard on up into your clothed heat, body aching for some type of relief. 

separating his lips from your neck, he tugged lightly at the bottom of your shirt, signaling to you that he wanted it off. sitting up straight, you slowly disposed of your garment. your eyes never broke contact with him as he stared at you as if you were prey. 

hungrily looking at your bare chest, mason thought about how much he had missed the sight of them. leaving little to his imagination as you had opted out of wearing a bra around the house these past few days. wanting to rile him up as he took note of how your nipples pierced through due to the ac that blasted through the house. 

pulling you back into him, his mouth was eager to indulge in your now newly uncovered nipple that hung over him, sucking on the flesh as his hands traveled back down to your body, squeezing your ass harder than before when he heard your seductive moans grace his ears. 

“oh i have missed this, baby girl.” mason moaned out as you grinded harder into him, causing a gasp to escape. lips connecting to his, you muted his moans. soft lips colliding together while your tongues fought for dominance as they explored each other's mouths, making up for lost time. 

breaking the kiss, you fisted a handful of his shirt upwards so you could begin giving him open mouthed love bites down his chest to his low abdomen, painfullying going slow when making your way down to where mason needed you the most. 

fingers finding refuge on the waistband of his sweats, you began to pull them down, springing free his red aching erection that was leaking precum. 

mason stifled a moan at the relief from the confined pants, hands collecting your hair as you took him into your mouth, submerging as much of him as you can. 

damn, his hand was nothing compared to your tongue.

bopping at a rapid pace up and down his length, mason’s spare hand gripped the bed sheets beside him, holding himself back from ejaculating. wanting to feel himself inside you before he disbursed his seed. 

“just like that babygirl, you’re doing such a good job.” he praised you breathlessly, eyes shut tight as he zoned in on the feeling of your wet mouth around his deprived member, bucking his hips up when he heard you gag lightly. 

“god, baby. you don’t know how much i missed that pretty mouth of yours.” 

watching him through your eyelashes, mason was a whimpering mess; he could’ve died right there and been a happy man just by how your mouth was working him.

feeling his climax approach as his breathing became irregular, drool started to exit the corners of your mouth as you picked up the pace, wanting his sweet moans to fill the air as he released. 

“thank god for the storm, it caused for my babygirl to stop being a brat.” 

he heard the loud pop first before he realized the lack of warmth around his member, opening his eyes, he was met with you hurriedly getting off of your knees and picking up your discarded shirt. 

“y/n, baby, what are you doing?” his face was flushed as he sat up, hair sticking in different direction as he tried to grab ahold of you before you left the room. 

“i’m not a fucking brat, mount.” you spoke, tugging your shirt back over your head as you stomped off and exited into the bathroom.

hearing the shower turn on, mason frustratedly hit the mattress before his hands covered his face as he let out a groan. he was going to have to finish the job yet again.

pumping himself slowly, trying to regain the sensation.

he thought the silent treatment was done, he thought that after you were submissive to his touches he was out of the doghouse.

he thought that after nine long painful days, he was finally going to be able to get his dick probably wet.

yet, you had declined him an orgasm, running off as soon as he called you that word again.

"fucking brat." mason whispered to himself, stopping his hand movements altogether, accepting the fact that he wasn't going to find relief anytime soon.

laying down in bed, he realized he had enough.

he was tired of your attitude, the way you would walk around the house in little to nothing taunting him.

he was tired of having to sleep with a stupid pillow wall between the two of you, one that you had made so he wouldn't be able to properly cuddle you, let alone touch you.

he was tired.

collecting his sweatpants that were pooled at his ankles, mason started his journey towards the bathroom where you seaked shelter from him.

as far as he was concerned, this little game you two were playing was about to be over.

part three

a/n: mason just can't keep that mouth shut, smh. i hope you guys enjoyed it! part three will be posted sometime this weekend!

[lovelythief]

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍' 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝚕𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷𝟶𝟷𝟸 𝚌𝚠; 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜.

Forcing yourself to do chores after surviving another apocalypse is a weird fucking experience.

Leon Kennedy would be the first person to tell you how important it is to reestablish a routine after a tragedy, but knowing how important it is doesn’t make the reality of it any less jarring. How could anyone reasonably expect him to go from a short-term, high-stakes mission—where every decision was the difference between life and death—back into the mundanity of a 9-to-5 in a matter of days?

No rest for the wicked, he’d say. Gotta keep moving forward.

To him, the strangest part about all of it is actually coming home. No matter how many times Leon is welcomed back as a “hero” and praised for his good work, all pretenses are gone as soon as he walks into that swanky apartment he pays too much rent for each month. There’s still dishes to be washed. Trash to be taken out. Laundry to be folded. When he lived alone, he could easily ignore petty chores for as long as possible—surviving off take-out on paper plates, wearing the same jeans three times a week—but he won’t treat his roommate like a maid.

Sitting on the couch, he smiles as he watches you scurry around in the kitchen, eagerly cooking your first lunch together in maybe three weeks; his first hot meal in what feels like forever. It's not all bad, he thinks, not when you’re around. He doesn’t get much time to enjoy the view of your ass while you stretch over the counter to reach the flour in the cabinet before the buzzing of the dryer calls him back to work.

Leon trudges back into the laundry room alone, but he’s accompanied by a humming cover of your favorite band that carries throughout the house. He leaves the door open so he can hear you while he folds clothes, but the sizzling of pan-fried food drowns out your voice. Smells delicious, at least.

Leon grabs a warm pair of jeans first and mindlessly shoves his arm in the inverted leg to flip it, and immediately realizes how unusual the fabric feels against his forearm. He pulls the pant leg through and flaps it once, twice, in the air before stretching it out by the waistband and scrutinizing it, wondering if his jeans got fucked up somehow.

It takes him a moment to realize he doesn’t own this pair. It’s your laundry.

“Hey, babe?” Leon steps out of the room and raises his voice enough for you to hear, “Want me to fold your clothes?” It takes a moment for Leon to get a quiet “yes, please!” over the noise from the kitchen, but it’s enough.

He chuckles to himself and stands over the dryer, bringing both legs of your jeans together, tucking the middle, smoothing it out over his chest, and folding it into thirds. Simple. Brainless. It’s strange. Leon starts sorting your folded clothes into piles as he grabs and folds one of your work shirts. His folding isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s neat enough to get the job done.

It almost feels like a luxury Leon shouldn’t be able to afford; being able to relax in safety, comfort, and warmth while doing something so mundane like folding clothes when just last week he was experiencing hell.

But Leon forces himself not to dwell on it for long, as he distracts himself with a cat-themed sock from the pile that he’s only seen you wear in passing, turning it over in his hand to catch all of the details on it. He never noticed the fake toe-beans on the bottom of the socks before, and he can’t stop the grin that pulls at his cheeks. Damn, that’s cute. He runs his hand through your clothes in search of its pair, refusing to let it be lonely for long.

He folds everything from raincoats to bath towels; the piles he’s made already reaching his mid-chest in height. How much laundry did you do? It has to be at least several weeks’ worth. Leon thinks of all the late hours he knows you spend working and huffs. There’s some comfort in knowing you’re just as bad as he is with chores.

A soft shirt brushes his hand when he leans into the machine to start grabbing the bottom of the pile. He stretches it and turns it around to face him. It’s an oversized band tee-shirt with a long-faded print. It looks well-worn. Loved. He holds it for a moment longer before he folds it slowly, with more care than he offered to some of your other shirts, making sure to leave the logo visible on top.

There’s not much left in the dryer by the time Leon grabs some of your underwear. Most of them are plain, standard. Some of them are cute, with simple patterns or a lace trim, and he doesn’t think twice about them as he folds them. But his fingers fumble as he reaches in without looking, and catch against a small, thin piece of fabric.

Deep blue, lacy, and risqué. Leon’s breath chokes in his throat as he stares at the thong in his hand for way too long. Thoughts better kept to himself rush into his mind; of watching you saunter while wearing nothing but this to tease him, of snapping the waistband against your skin to hear you gasp, of pulling it down with his teeth to reveal—

—“Leon! Food’s ready!” your voice shocks Leon out of his haze.

He squares his jaw and quickly—sloppily—folds the thong and shoves it between some clothes before he’s tempted to tuck it in one of his pockets. The damn thing’s definitely going to haunt him when he has a moment to himself.

You call for him again, “Leon?”

“Comin’!” He clears his throat and slams the dryer door closed, grabbing the full laundry basket, unsure of how he’s going to look at you after that. And for a while, he forgets about everything else.

[kylelovskii]

idk but now that kyle finally asked reader to be his gf, what if they were just hanging out and stuff so then kyle leaves to go do something but ends up coming back and sees reader masturbating and theyre just like a total hot mess on his bed waiting for him… just a thought bc im feeling pretty freaky atm LOL i need kyle hes such a meanie

-❤️ anon

been a while.. :3

i’ve missed writing about mean kyle, so let’s do this! 😈

the fuck do you think you’re doing?

“hey, baby, i’m gonna get some snacks for movie night, okay?” kyle told you, cupping your plush cheeks and kissing your forehead.

“okay..” you respond, closing your eyes as he plants his lips on your temple. you watched as he walked away. his white wife beater hugging him perfectly, and the way his basketball shorts hung perfectly around his waist. you’d been so desperate for him the entire day, but still so shy to even say anything. despite all the change, that old, shy, innocent (y/n) was still down there.

he shut the bedroom door behind him as he waltzed out. you knew he’d be gone for a bit. he usually likes to cook something up for the two of you on movie nights, then have extra snacks on the side. what to do with all this time?

who’s to say you couldn’t rub one out real quick? if he didn’t catch you, no harm no foul, right?

and with that last thought, you sunk more into his bed, reaching your hand down your baggy pajama pants. you pushed one finger between your folds, already so slick from just the mere sight of kyle a few moments prior. you massage the bundle of nerves between the pudge of your pussy, then push your middle finger into your hole.

you sigh at the relief you’ve been craving for the past 4 hours. sure, it wasn’t as good as kyle’s fingers, but it got the job done.

you add another finger, speeding up to make this process go faster so kyle wouldn’t catch you. kyle’s rule was, and i quote: “if i ever catch your fucking your self without my permission, you’ll be in a world of hurt, you get me?”

and you did get him, you just didn’t want to burden him when he probably didn’t feel like it. besides, it’s movie night, and why would you ruin that?

you were on the edge, so caught up in the release you were about to get, that you didn’t hear the bedroom door swing open. so caught up in how good you felt that you didn’t hear him yelling at you.

“hey! what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

you yelped, scrambling up against the headboard, staring at kyle, horrified.

“who said you could do that, huh?” he spat, slowly walking over to you, his fists clenched.

“wait— i’m sorry! i didn’t want to bother you, and—” you were cut off by the painful sting in your scalp when he grabbed your hair, pulling your face up to his. “don’t be fucking stupid. get up, strip.”

you were quite terrified to say the least, so you quickly got up and stepped back away from your fuming boyfriend. you took off your t-shirt, then your pajama pants. you stood there, half naked, staring at him.

“why are you looking at me like you can’t understand english? i said strip.”

oh. he wanted you naked naked. okay. you brought the straps of your bra down, your perky tits bouncing out. you then pulled the pink cotton panties off your waist and kicked them to the side.

“you wanna get fucked so bad? then you’ll get fucked. lay down,” he ordered, pointing to the bed. you whined and climbed on the bed, laying down, vulnerable for him.

he tugged off his shirt, then took off his silky basketball shorts and threw them in a laundry basket along with his boxers.

“i think you’ve had enough prep, yeah? being greedy all alone in here, not even bothering to ask me. you know the rules, don’t cha?” he asked, smooshing your face together with one hand, stroking his cock with the other. “answer me, bitch.”

“yes! yes i remember! i’m sorry, ky— please!” then you felt a sharp pain against your face. “i don’t care if you’re sorry. you broke a rule, and now you’ll get punished. nothing has changed,” he forcefully explained before shoving his dick inside you. you cried out which turned into a long whine.

“aw, yeah? see? your fucking fingers can’t do this, only i can.” he reached his hand up and held your neck tightly, but not tight enough to stop your breathing. he pounded into you, harder and faster with each thrust.

“hah— ky! i’m gonna— you’re—” you tried to speak, but he was fucking you so good you couldn’t even form a sentence. “no you’re not. not until i do. you don’t deserve it.”

he slid his hand up, prying your mouth open more with his thumb, and with that a small fetching noise came from his throat before he spit in your mouth. “swallow,” he demanded, and you did.

each time his cock went back inside your cunt, it only pushed you more to the edge. you didn’t know how much longer you could hold out, but then you heard a high pitched groan come out of kyle’s mouth and then a warm sensation shoot inside you. that did it for you and you hit your high, legs shaking, locking them around kyle’s waist to make them stop.

but he kept going.

“stop! stopstopstop! kyle— please, wait—” he covered your mouth with his hand to shut you up, which didn’t really work, but you stopped talking at least. “what’s wrong? can’t take it? this is what you’ve been so desperate for, right? so you will take it. shut up and take it.”

orgasm after orgasm, kyle finally let up and pulled out, but he hadn’t cum yet. he inched up near your face, took off his glasses, and shoved them on your face. lean leaned his head back, stroking his cock until he came all over your face, recreating the scene that happened at cartman’s house many moons ago.

he let out a guttural moan as he did so, sighing when he finally came down from his high.

“go..go clean up,” he slurred, flopping down next to you as you looked at him confused. “you’re not gonna help?”

“no. you’ve been a bad girl. besides, i cooked. that’s enough of caring for one night. and clean my glasses too!” he shouted after you as you walked into the bathroom connected to his room.

kyle always took care of you, but bad girls know how to take care of themselves, right?

[red-pill-to-swallow]

Doing your part in a relationship

Hey babes,

it’s Monday – a new, fresh week and the ultimate opportunity to make some changes.

I don’t know why it feels so much better to start a new routine on a Monday than it does on a random Wednesday.

I took some time after I posted my last two posts and really thought about the relationship dynamic between my man and me.

I thought about changes that I would like to make and what could help us to become a better couple.

Honestly, I was pretty shocked after all my thinking because it turns out that my man is the rock in this relationship and I am not sure why he is still sticking around when he could probably do so much better.

But let me explain:

I gave up working in my full-time job around January 2023 and have been home ever since then.

My man was aware that I was totally burned out from my job and offered me that I could stay at home and take care of the household chores.

Previously we used to split the chores around the house roughly 50/50. It was very fair and in some weeks he did more than me and some weeks I did more than him, like it’s in every relationship.

I would say that I am fairly good at housekeeping. I know how to cook, how to clean and how to do laundry.

However – I never before was responsible for everything. From going grocery shopping and planning meals to cleaning the bathrooms every week – suddenly all of this was on me.

I struggle really bad with organizing myself, this was one of the reasons why I was so burned out from my previous job, and I started slacking.

I would do the laundry one day and take three days before I started folding it. My man literally had no underwear one time and flipped out because that’s obviously disgusting and instead of improving – I started to get mad at him.

It wasn’t only the laundry, it also began affecting my cooking – which I loved doing before – and I would start making only frozen meals or just serving cold meat cuts with bread.

We started fighting a lot more because my man was sad, that instead of relaxing at home he would need to help me with my chores – after a full workday.

I had my epiphany a few weeks ago (when I made this blog) and realized that my man has every right to be mad at me. He does his job. I am not.

So, let’s see – my man works really though hours. He leaves the house early in the morning and comes home in the early evening. He’s usually stressed because his job is very demanding and he is responsible for a lot of people.

Imagine coming home to your girlfriend, who’s staying at home, and almost nothing is done. The fridge isn’t restocked, the floor is dirty and there is no food. After your shower you realize that you have no fresh underwear because your girlfriend didn’t wash any.

I would flip out too.

My behavior was/is borderline disrespectful and I am honestly ashamed because of it. I would have broken up with me if I was him.

But here we are – still together and I don’t plan on dodging this second chance.

I think many girls that want the lifestyle of a spoiled girlfriend or a stay at home girlfriend don’t realize how hard it is to organize a whole household on your own.

Yes, there might be some men out there that are so rich that they don’t mind employing staff to help around the house, but I don’t think that this is achievable for a woman in her twenties without having various high value connections in the right circles. At least I don’t have those connections.

I am responsible for keeping the house clean, making food and going grocery shopping. That takes maybe 5 hours of my day and the rest of the time I can do whatever I want.

My man only wants to come home to a clean, organized house with a stocked fridge and possibly a hot meal on the stove.

Honestly – he is the one that is working his ass off every day, not me.

The worst is, that I even started to neglect my appearance. I used to shave every second day and that slowly progressed to only once a week. I used to color my hair religiously and worked out at least three times a week.

Now I haven’t touched up my hair in over three months, my roots are disgusting and I am very ashamed because of it. I mean, even though my man pays for my beauty appointments – I couldn’t get my ass up.

However, I cleaned our whole house today. From the bottom to the top. It’s spotless. I did laundry and went grocery shopping and I made a plan on how to maintain all of those things.

I won’t share the plan just yet because I want to make sure that I can actually follow it before I share it with you.

What should you take with you after reading this rant?

Be careful that you’re always a responsible partner. Don’t be like me. If you’re telling your partner that you plan on doing something – actually follow through and do it. Don’t disappoint them all the time.

Make sure that you acknowledge what they do for you and thank them for it every once in a while.

It is unattractive to be lazy and not being able to keep up with your standards. It’s unfair to your partner to let yourself go and they have every right to be upset about it.

Think before you speak and start an argument. Are you really right? Is it worth to start an argument about something that is your responsibility?

I mean, my man made it clear in the beginning: If I want to stay at home and live a cozy life – I have to take care of the house while he works and provides for us both.

He does his part of the agreement. Every single day.

I’ve only done my part of the agreement when I felt like it and that is not okay. But I am changing and I know that he has already forgiven me for all the hassle.

See you soon

[triplesilverstar]

Interrupted

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X Female character

CW: Dirty talk, talk of marriage, grinding, being walked in on, almost P in V sex

Word count: Roughly 3K 

A/N: Once more Vash has broken his hand in a way you can't fix which means back to Home for some repairs. While you're there a subject comes up that you aren't sure how you really feel about it and it leads to things getting a little hot and heavy between you and Brad. 

Pushing the joint you hear a sharp hiss, raising a single eyebrow before letting your eyes follow, Vash biting the corner of his lip and you can see one of his sharp canines sticking out. A small tear at the corner of one of his blue orbs, watery and once he catches your gaze he puts on his best pout and tries his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. 

“That’s not gonna work, Sunshine.” Not because he doesn’t know your weakness, nope it’s a far similar reason. “I can’t fix this, The second knuckle joint is locked and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

His attempt at swaying you into helping him fades as quickly as he lets out a long breath. “Are you sure?” A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes, his sunglasses perched atop his head while the two of you sat on the bed. 

“I’m sure. You know what that means.” Chuckling as he falls backward against the bed. “We’re going Home.” 

It took the two of you a few days to find the sandstorm that held the ship you called Home floating around the planet. Another few days and both of you took the pair of Tomas you had into the storm and into the service bay near the base of the ship. Shaking your head to try and loosen some of the grains of sand before pulling your scarf away from your head and face. 

The Tomas you’re sitting on shaking, sending a pile of sand to the floor in a similar fashion to Vash and you move farther into the bay. Seeing the familiar form of Brad in the doorway you wave before dismounting, taking the bird to a pen removing the harnesses, and putting water in a bowl for the bird before going to help Vash. 

“Well well, didn’t expect to see you two Home so soon after last time.” He folds his arms across his chest, and when Vash hisses as his finger gets caught in the saddle straps as it’s removed. “What’d ya break?” 

You don’t give Vash a chance to respond and beat around the brush for his injuries “The second joint of his ring finger is locked up. He tried to catch a car with his hand, the car won.” 

“Mayfly!” The whine Vash lets out at your betrayal is almost funny, but you don’t want to spend the next twenty minutes of Vash and Brad doing their usual song and dance. 

“Was it at least for a good reason?” Brad grouses, sending you a signal that he’s at least glad he already knows what he needs to work on and without a waste of time. 

“I saved a little girl” Vash pouts looking at you instead of Brad, but you know Brad will just be slightly less mean about how he treats Vash as he works on his prosthetic. Waving at Brad once you were both done, watching Vash follow after the older man while you head for your shared room with both your bags. At least while his hand is being worked on you can see about mending some of your clothes and doing the rare loads of laundry. 

A few hours later you found yourself sitting in the cafeteria with a cup of coffee, humming as you savored the dark brew and listening to some of the inhabitant's chatter. Occasionally being pulled into the conversations when something about the planet was asked, and while you were a bit of an outlier on the spaceship the regular inhabitants still tried to include you and Vash when you were onboard. 

“Hey, there you are.” Grinning, you push the chair backward so you’re tilting on two of the legs and angling your head your vision filled with an upside-down Vash. “I didn’t think I’d find you here of all places.”

Taking in his appearance while the others greet Vash which he returns, you know he went to the room first, his red coat and holster stripped from his body. Glancing downwards you notice the hand and forearm of his prosthetic are missing, raising an eyebrow at him as you bring all four legs back to the floor and turn in earnest to look at him.

“Once I got the laundry done I got invited to coffee.” Gesturing with an open palm to the other three at the table. “What’s the news about your hand?” 

“Brad needs to keep it for the day, he said he needs to replace the joint itself.” Ruffling the back of his head with his flesh hand and sending you a grin of his own. “Guess I did get a little too carried away this time.” 

“Ya think.” You deadpan before rolling your eyes. Finishing your coffee you stand, heading for another cup as Vash is invited to join and he takes the chair you had been seated in. 

From the serving station with the coffee, you can hear the others chattering to Vash excitedly catching up since the last time the two of you had been here had been more by chance than planned. Vash might try to deny it, but these people are his family and it makes that small flame in your chest flicker when you see him interacting with them. While refilling your cup, you make a second with far more cream and sugar than anyone should have to bring back for Vash. 

Placing it in front of him on the table and watching him pat his flesh hand on his lap, an invitation. You were just going to go grab another chair to drag over, but. This is Home. The one place you don’t have to hide the fact you’re together, where you can do stupid little things that make your heart melt like just holding his hand around people. 

Letting the tension from your shoulders drop you slip into his lap, feeling that same flesh hand pat your hip briefly before reaching for his coffee. “Thank you, Mayfly.” Whispered in your ear as he leaned closer for it, sending your tummy a flutter with nerves. 

Both of you rejoin the conversation, well you mostly listen and answer when asked a question while Vash is a regular part of the banter. 

“So. When are the two of you getting married?” The coffee that you had been swallowing goes down the wrong pipe as you gasp fist slamming your chest to loosen it while you’re certain you look bugged-eyed in response. Where the hell had that come from? 

“Well ugh we’ve never really talked about it” Vash is being bashful, rubbing circles on your back while you place the cup back on the table still gently coughing trying to clear your throat. “It’s not like we can say anything outside of Home anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.” Something in his voice catches your attention, but you’ll ask him about it later when it’s just the two of you.

“Aw, well that’s too bad. I mean the two of you make a cute couple and it’s not like we often have much to talk about here. So whenever you two are around it’s fun to tease you.” The woman who first asked the question, Jessica, smirks resting her chin on her head on the table looking a little dreamy. 

“Right tease,” another woman remarks, Tess, playful shoving Jessica. “Has nothing to do with the fact you used to have a crush on Vash yourself.” 

That makes the entire table laugh and the conversation moves on to something else, and later as the mugs are put away and you and Vash are heading for your room you stretch your shoulders and bring your arms down feeling Vash interlace his fingers with yours. 

“So…” You drag the word out, glancing at the tall blond beside you. 

“Why did you start to choke when the marriage thing came up?” Well, at least now you know why his voice had dropped a little when he answered the question. 

“Honestly?” Making sure you have eye contact with him as you make your way down the hall, you don’t want him to take this the wrong way like he did your reaction in the cafeteria. “I wasn’t expecting it. I mean you had to have been thrown a little too, going from talking about worms to marriage.” 

Watching his nose twitch in thought. “What do you think about the actual idea?” You don’t miss the slight bite to his lip after he asks the question, a sign of his worry about what you might say. 

“Marriage is kind of a social contract, isn’t it? Just made more formal by a piece of paper and metal?” You shrug and watch him roll his eyes as you flippant answer. “I just guess I’ve never really thought about it all that much before, probably because I never thought I’d ever find someone to love.” That part is honest, as the two of you reach your bedroom door and step inside. 

Letting your hand go and waving his own along the inside to lock the door mechanism while you move further in and look at your shared space. It’s not much but the more times you come Home, the more it’s starting to feel like your and Vash’s little slice of, well, normal. In these four walls, the two of you can just be you. Not the Ghost Sniper, and not the Humanoid Typhoon. Just two lovers who are still figuring things out. 

Looking over your shoulder you grin seeing him looking at the floor with his eyes a little downcast, no doubt still thinking about the previous conversation. “For the record” waiting to continue until his head rises and those sparkling blue eyes that are currently full of sorrow look into your own mischievous ones. “I love you more than you’ll ever know, you big dork. After all, I technically offered to marry you before.” 

The sorrow slowly morphs into annoyance before jubilation as he closes the distance and wraps his arm around you. Burying his nose in your neck and tickling your skin making you laugh. “Big dork huh?” While you can’t see his face, you can picture the smirk starting to form on his visage unsurprised he ignores the reminder about your proposal of marriage when you had been eating his cooking unaware it was him. “Well, I have something else big that I don’t think you deserve right now. ” 

“Oh come on Sunshine. I’m a good girl, don’t I deserve it?” You tease right back, grabbing both of his butt cheeks playfully and making him jump in surprise. The wash of his warm breath across your sensitive skin makes you shiver in delight. 

“You.” Trailing his nose along the column of your neck up to your ear. “Are.” Still dragging the tip across the ridge of your cheekbone. “Never” a quick peck to the tip of your nose before he keeps moving, across to the other cheekbone. “A” His nose is at the shell of your other ear, tracing the outside of it before pressing his lips against it and murmuring directly into the opening. “Good girl.” Bitting into the bottom of your lobe you hiss, but damn, his words have a fire starting in your core. 

Clenching your thighs together to try and gain some friction, while one hand snakes its way under the hem of his shirt to touch the skin of his back, and the other is tangled in his hair, gripping the blond silky strands. Moaning against the side of his face you feel his hips jerk against yours, grinding softly against your core. 

The obvious tent in his pants pressing against your clothed pussy, his knees bent just enough so your sexes are only separated by the layers of clothing you’re both wearing. “Then.” Licking your lips as Vash releases the flesh in his mouth to lick and suck at the skin just beneath it. “Does that mean I’m your bad girl?” With your hand back on his ass, you grind with more enthusiasm against his hard trapped cock, feeling your panties starting to grow wet. 

A low growl leaves him, as his hand pushes your shirt up so he work his hand under it and to your front, squeezing one of your tits through the fabric of your bra. “Yea.” Dragging his teeth down your neck, his fangs no doubt leaving two lines of red behind. “And you know what happens to bad girls?” His voice has dropped to that husky octave you love, and your core twinges with a flood of wetness as your arousal grows stronger, more insistent. 

“What?” Whispered as if you’re sharing a secret, scrapping your nails along the skin of his head feeling him shudder and his dick twitching in the confines of his pants. You have to wonder if there’s a damp spot growing where his head is, making his boxers stick to his warm skin. 

“They get punished” Your knees almost buckle as he bites into the pulse point of your neck, sucking harshly and jerking his hips against yours. Fuck you think you might cum from this alone. All you can do is hold onto him as he humps you through your clothes and keeps the soft skin between his lips. 

Mewling at his affection and the throbbing in your core, you don’t want to keep standing here like this. You want him inside of you, anywhere inside of you, just the need to feel more of his skin against yours eating at you like you’re being consumed by the haze of arousal floating in your mind. “Vash, please!” Panting as you grip at him, hips still moving and chasing that high you both want. 

Letting your skin go with a wet pop, you hiss the bruise throbbing as the cool air of the room hits it. “Please what Mayfly?” His hand has the fabric of your bra pushing to the side so his fingers can fondle and pinch at your tender flesh directly. Teasing you as he blows against the purple that’s blossoming from his affection, another shiver rakes your body the pleasure making your mind hazy.

But not too hazy to tell him what you want. “I want you Vash, please!” Desperation laces your words, as your hands finally move between your bodies enough sense returning to you to use them for more than just grasping him. 

“Hmmm. Fucking is a reward and I don’t think you’ve been good.”  You let out a long low whine, as he moves his hand to catch both of yours in his larger one. The thought of him denying you makes part of you clench loving the thought of a long drawn-out session. 

Vash has been getting a lot better at being more dominant in the bedroom, no longer the blushing virgin he had first been. He still fumbles but he knows you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you as he explores more of his own sexuality and since that first time, he’s grown to crave any shred of physical intimacy the two of you can partake in. 

“Maybe you should punish me more instead?” You try to compromise, falling into the role of a sub because with how wet you are you want some kind of release and any affection he wants to give you might push you over the edge with how rilled up you feel. As his hips jerk against yours once more, you notice the light sheen of sweat near his shaved sideburns. He’s as horny as you are. 

A happy little moan as he releases your hands, almost as if in contemplation before he kisses you for the first time since you moved into the room tonight. A kiss you’re happy to deepen as you part your lips to glide and tangle your tongue with his, tasting the remains of his coffee in his mouth. His hand is at your fly, working it open and you take the hint, helping him with his own. 

When you break apart it’s a flurry of movement as each of you tosses clothing items away desperate to remove all the barriers between you. When that’s done Vash is pressing against your again, mouth hot on yours and his burning dick trapped between your bodies smearing precum across your lower belly. 

As the back of your legs hit the bedframe you fall backward onto the mattress, scrambling more onto it and Vash is quick to follow. Kneeing between your supple thighs and stroking his cock while looking at your soaked pussy. “I’m gonna bring you to the edge until you can’t even scream anymore.” Voice dark you clench in anticipation, licking your lips and moving your hands to rest over the swell of your breasts. 

Vash is moving his tip to rub against your folds. Only for the door to make a noise of attempting to open before someone says something on the other side and unlocks it coming in. 

You squeal, grabbing the bedding under you and trying to hide your form as a male voice makes an awkward scream of its own. Face blazing as you try and hide and feel Vash doing the same sheltering your lower half with his and grabbing handfuls of the blanket to try and wrap around himself. 

“What the hell you two!” Brad bellows, and you refuse to uncover your crimson, flushed face. 

“We locked the door!” Vash bellows right back, which would have had more effect if it hadn’t cracked with embarrassment halfway through. 

“I swear Brad!” You scream from under the blankets. “You really are a dirty old man!” 

“Guh, huh, I mean” 

“Get out!” You and Vash yell in tandem and as the door hisses shut you finally move the bedding to look at your lover, who wears a sporting look of red from the base of his neck to the top of his hairline.

This made six times you and Vash stayed home, and six attempted intimate moments ruined by either Brad or Luida walking in on you two. “Are we just, never meant to have sex here?” You mutter knowing neither one of you is going to want to finish after that. 

“I’m starting to think no,” Vash answers dragging a hand down his face his erection gone. “Might as well get dressed and see what he wants.” 

The next day, Vash’s hand fixed and reconnected the two of you are back in the bay saddling your Tomas. Still frustrated from being interrupted by Brad as you tighten the straps you see Vash looking downcast before mounting his own bird. 

Once atop your mount, you reach out across the distance for his flesh hand, having already said goodbye to everyone else on the ship. There was no need to see you both off. “Hey.” You whisper, just loud enough to get his attention. 

Smiling hoping it shows all the affection you feel swelling in your heart as you look at your blond boyfriend. “About the marriage thing.” You see a light starting to flicker in those deep pools of blue. “Ask me sometime when you know it’s what you want, I might just think it’s a social contract but I think my answer might surprise you.” 

In your own non-romantic, yet sort of romantic way, you’ve told him your answer, and the face-splitting grin that breaks out across his face makes your heart soar. You really do love this idiot, even if his family always screws up you getting lucky with him. 

Back to Masterlist for the series

[fatecantstopme]

Bring Me Back to Life

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Bucky Barnes x reader (past)

Summary: The team comes home from a mission you sat out on due to an injury. Only thing is, the entire team doesn’t come back, at least not alive.

Steve comforts you, you comfort him…it turns to love.

Warnings: death, heartbreak, injuries, near-death experience, so much freaking angst it hurts. SMUT, oral (M & F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), praise kink, slight sub!steve. Light cursing

You were standing in your room, folding laundry, when you heard someone enter. You turned, expecting it to be Bucky, but in his place stood a solemn-faced Steve.

“Hey Stevie. You guys back?”

He just nodded as he stepped into your room completely. “(Y/N)…”

You stopped what you were doing and looked at him closely. “What’s wrong?”

“(Y/N/N), I think you should sit down.”

Your heart began to race. “Steve,” you said again. “Where’s Bucky?”

“He’s—he’s in the infirmary.”

You paled, eyes widening. You started to move towards the door, but Steve stopped you.

“(Y/N), wait—“

“Bucky’s injured and you want me to wait?” you rushed from the room, ignoring Steve’s calls for you to stop.

When you reached the door to the infirmary, Sam was standing in front of it. He looked just as pained as Steve had, but you barely noticed. All you could think about was getting to Bucky.

“(Y/N), hold on,” Sam started.

You gave him a death glare as you pushed past him, fixated on the only thing that mattered to you: Bucky.

When you walked into the room, time seemed to stand still. On the bed in front of you laid the love of your life, your boyfriend of three years, Bucky Barnes. You knew with one glance that he was gone, but your brain refused to accept that information. He couldn’t be gone.

You walked towards him, ignoring the stares of your friends and teammates. Your hands began to shake as you reached the side of the bed. As soon as you looked at his face, you felt your world come crashing down. There could be no mistaking it, his soul was gone, all that remained was the shell of the man he was. You touched his right hand, surprised by the cold feeling.

Suddenly, your body ceased functioning and you collapsed in a heap on the floor. Several people rushed to your side, but Steve got there first. He wrapped his arms around you and held you as you screamed and sobbed. He didn’t let go even as you punched his chest and screamed at him for letting this happen. He didn’t let go even as you sobbed into his chest, soaking straight through his shirt. While he didn’t know what it was like to lose the love of his life, he felt your pain in his own way. His best friend was gone and he was never coming back.

**********

For eight months, Steve stayed by your side, grieving with you in a way only the two of you could. No one else understood the pain you were both experiencing, no one else could lessen that pain.

In time, you found it easier to think about Bucky without breaking down. You were able to share stories about him, laugh at things he'd done, smile at your memories of him. Steve was the only reason you had made it this far.

If he'd had to face this alone, Steve was certain he wouldn't have survived this pain...at least he wouldn't have come out the other side still himself. He'd lived it once before, but this was so much worse. The finality of it all, the certainty that his best friend was dead, was simply unbearable. He was grateful he didn't have to bear that pain alone, even if he would have given anything for you not to have ever had to feel the pain of losing someone you loved.

Steve was a good man, quite possibly one of the best, but he didn't feel like a good man anymore. Over the last couple months, he'd begun to feel things he shouldn't feel, want things he shouldn't--couldn't--want. The guilt had started to truly eat at him and he found himself avoiding you completely or acting weird in your presence.

Unbeknownst to Steve, you had noticed the change in his demeanor whenever you were around. He never wanted to pair up with you on missions anymore, he avoided standing near you during briefings, he didn't meet your gaze, and he'd even started avoiding team building exercises altogether, which was very unlike him.

Eight months was not a long time in the grand scheme of things, and certainly not a long time to mourn the loss of someone you loved. Especially someone like Bucky. He was your entire world, and you were his, but you were both painfully aware of the life you lived. There were no guarantees for tomorrow. Life was short, and therefore deserved to be lived to the fullest.

Bucky had once made you promise him that you wouldn't mourn him for the rest of your life should he die before you. You'd always told him to shut up, he wasn't going to die, so you didn't need to have this conversation, but Bucky was insistent. All he wanted was to know that you would live your life, that you would be happy, maybe even love again, after he was gone. You couldn't imagine a world without him in it, but you promised him because you could see how much it meant to him.

When he died, a part of you died with him. That's just how it goes when you lose someone you love, a piece of your soul goes with them. A few weeks after his death, you were reminded of the promise you'd made him as you went through his things. In typical Bucky fashion, he'd written you a letter, one you would only read upon his death.

When you read the letter, your heart broke for the second time.

My dearest (Y/N),

Yeah, I know that sounds sappy, but what can I say? I'm hopelessly in love with you. If you're reading this, then life didn't go as planned. I didn't get to watch you walk down the aisle or call you Mrs. Barnes. I didn't get to grow old with you, have a gaggle of children, and retire to some random suburb. There are so many things that I'm going to miss, so many things I can only imagine.

I know you hate it when I make you promise to live without me, but I can't leave this world knowing that it'll kill you too. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is for you to be happy. If I'm not here to ensure your happiness, then I need you to do it for me. Don't give up on life just because I'm not in it. Don't walk away from a chance at a beautiful life. I need you to live, to love, to move on. You may be the love of my life, but I don't have to be yours.

I know you're reading this and wishing you could smack me upside my head, but you made me a promise and I expect you to keep it. You gave me your heart and it's a gift I have always treasured, but now that I'm gone, I am giving it back to you, so you can give it to another deserving man. I know it hurts now, but I promise, it won't always feel this way.

I have loved you from the moment I met you, (Y/N), and I will love you long after I am gone. I would never ask you to stop loving me, but simply to make room in your heart for another. I'm so sorry I won't be there for all the incredible moments in your life. I'm sorry I won't be there to laugh with you, hold your hand, kiss you, or make love to you. Please know that you mean the world to me, and I will love you always. This is not the end of the book, simply the end of the chapter.

All my love,

Your Bucky

You broke down when you read it, the ache in your chest stronger than it had ever been. You wanted to crumple it up and throw it away, pretend like you'd never made that promise, like you'd never read the letter...but you couldn't. You'd never broken a promise and you certainly weren't going to start now.

You just didn't imagine that your heart would make room for someone else so quickly. Nor did you imagine it would be someone already in your life, someone close to both you and Bucky. You felt guilty for your feelings, but you knew Bucky would be happy to see you fall in love again. Bucky had always said Steve was the best man he'd ever known, so you had to believe he would approve of your choice.

But lately, things between you and Steve had been so strained. You weren't even sure you were friends anymore, let alone anything more than that. He was so far from you emotionally, it was as if he wasn't even there. It had been so long since you'd seen him smile, you'd almost forgotten what it looked like. The only time you heard his voice was when he was speaking to someone else or giving you an order. You didn't want to admit it, but your heart had started to break all over again.

**********

Three more months went by in much the same way. Steve iced you out completely, so you'd begun to treat him in the same manner. It nearly killed you to do it, but it hurt less than the alternative.

Little did you know, Steve was dying inside. The harder he pushed you away, the bigger the hole in his heart became. It had gotten to the point where he couldn't breathe in your presence without feeling like he was drowning. The worst part of it all was that he could see how much this was hurting you, how much he was hurting you. He would have given anything to make it stop, done anything, except for let himself love you.

On this particular day, you, Steve, Sam, and Natasha were out on a mission together. None of you had anticipated any issues, fully expecting the warehouse to be completely empty. Against your better judgment, the four of you had split up, each in search of what you came to find.

You'd been in the building for less than five minutes when all hell broke loose. You heard the shouts of your teammates over comms, followed by gunfire and loud thuds. You raced in the direction Natasha had gone, but were quickly stopped by three Hydra agents coming towards you.

You heard Steve's voice over the comms, asking where you were. You tapped the device in your ear to respond, but the three men moved more quickly than you'd expected. You shifted into battle mode and began to fight for your life. Every grunt, gasp, and curse came through loud and clear for your team to hear.

"(Y/N)!" Steve yelled again. "What's your location?"

"Left," you gasped out as you blocked a punch. "of--shit," you inhaled sharply as a blow landed to your side. "entrance," you finished, managing to land a punch of your own.

Steve knew you could handle yourself, just as well as Sam and Natasha could, but the thought of something happening to you spurred him into overdrive. He raced back the way he'd come, hoping to find you along the way. He could still hear you through your comms, which told him you were still fighting.

"I'm heading there now," Natasha's voice said over the comms.

She was closer to you than Steve was, but he didn't stop running in your direction. Before he could reach you, he ran into Sam just as he knocked out the last agent that had jumped him. "You good?" Steve asked.

"Fine. Let's go get (Y/N/N)," Sam responded.

As the two men ran, the sounds coming through the comms were getting more intense. Steve could tell you were losing steam, which meant you were at even more risk. Suddenly, he heard a pained gasp fill his ear, immediately followed by Natasha screaming your name.

Steve sped up, leaving Sam behind as he followed the sound of Natasha's scream. When he reached the open space, he saw something that terrified him beyond imagining. There were three men, one of which was clearly severely injured. The other two were actively fighting Natasha, but she was clearly holding her own. His eyes scanned the space and he saw your small form lying on the ground.

He raced towards you, not caring about anything but reaching your side. "(Y/N)!" he yelled.

You looked up towards him and his heart slowed down. You were alive.

He dropped to his knees when he reached you, eyes immediately assessing your body for injuries. You were clutching your side, hand covered in blood, pale face etched with pain.

"He stabbed me," you whispered.

Steve felt anger course through his veins, but he willed himself to remain calm and focus on you. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

You shook your head. "Help Nat."

Steve looked over to Natasha. She'd heard your statement on the comms and just shook her head. "I've got this. Go!"

Sam was running over to help Natasha, so Steve made the command decision to get you out of there. He scooped you up into his arms, trying to ignore your cry of pain as he lifted you. "Sorry, (Y/N)," he murmured.

"It's okay," you mumbled.

Steve moved with a speed he'd forgotten he had, racing towards the exit with your body in his arms. He didn't want to hurt you anymore than you already were, each movement jostling you painfully. You stayed as quiet as you could, biting your lip to avoid whimpering in pain.

When he got outside, Steve rushed towards the quinjet, jogging up the ramp and placing you as gently as he could on one of the bench seats. He started rummaging around the cabin, desperately searching for the first aid kit.

"Cabinet behind the pilot chair," you said softly.

"What?" Steve said as he turned to face you.

"The first aid kit," you said, pointing towards the cabinet.

He moved to open the cabinet you pointed at, pulling out the first aid kit and coming back to your side. "Can you lift your shirt up for me, (Y/N/N)?"

You moved your hand and pulled up your shirt slowly, allowing Steve to get a better look at your wound. He inhaled sharply before digging around in the kit to pull out cleaning supplies. "This is gonna hurt."

You nodded. "I know."

He didn't look at your face, still unable to make eye contact with you, focusing instead on cleaning the deep cut in your side. Even as he cleaned the wound, blood still flowed steadily from it. He quickly realized he wasn't going to be able to just stitch it up, he needed to try and stop the bleeding as best as he could and get you back to the compound.

"Stevie?" you whispered.

The softness of your voice scared him. He could tell how weak you were just from your voice. "Hey, hey, I'm here. You're okay," he said gently.

"Am I gonna die?"

For the first time in months, Steve made eye contact with you. He saw the fear in your eyes and immediately reached out to touch your face, cupping your cheek gently. "You're not going to die, (Y/N). I promise."

The authority in his voice almost made you believe that was a promise he could keep, but you knew better. You weren't sure how much blood you'd lost, but you imagined it was a fair amount based on how exhausted you suddenly felt. You just wanted to close your eyes and go to sleep.

When your eyes fluttered closed, Steve gently shook you. "Hey, stay with me, doll. Keep your eyes open."

You opened your eyes and looked at him. "I'm tired, Stevie."

Tears welled in his eyes. "I know, but you gotta stay awake, okay? Just stay awake."

You nodded, trying desperately to keep your eyes open as Steve pulled out several wads of bandaging and begins packing your wound to the best of his ability.

After a few minutes, Sam and Natasha came running up the ramp of the jet. Upon seeing you lying on the bench seat, Natasha rushed to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's seat, preparing to take off. She knew you needed to get out of there as fast as possible.

"Buckle up, boys. I'm getting us back home in record time," she said as she started to take off.

Sam dropped to his knees beside Steve. "What do you need, man?"

"Get me more bandages," Steve insisted. His hands were holding the packed bandages into your wound, but he needed more. As Sam handed him more bandages, Steve pushed them farther into you.

You groaned in pain, eyes starting to close again.

"Don't you close your eyes on me, (Y/N)!" Steve yelled.

You couldn't do what he asked this time around. You were simply too tired, your eyes feeling too heavy. You could hear a mixture of Steve's and Sam's voices as your eyes fluttered closed and the world faded to black.

**********

You awoke to the steady sound of beeping, a sound you couldn't place. A few minutes passed and you began to wake up more fully, eyes finally fluttering open. You glanced around the room, quickly realizing you were in the infirmary back at the compound.

You groaned lightly as you tried to shift in the bed, sharp pain radiating from your side.

"(Y/N/N)?"

You turned your head and saw Steve moving towards the bed, concern on his face.

You offered him a small smile. "Hey," you whispered.

You watched his body relax, as if hearing your voice allowed him to finally breathe. He didn't quite meet your gaze as he spoke to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got stabbed," you joked lightly.

Steve winced. "It's not funny, (Y/N)."

You sighed. "I know, but I'm okay thanks to you."

He shook his head. "You're a fighter, (Y/N/N). That was all you."

"Well, either way, I want to thank you."

"You're welcome," he said softly.

He still wouldn't look at you and it was breaking your heart. You felt a wave of anger rush over you and you decided you just wanted to be alone. "I--uh--I'm tired."

"Oh--umm...okay, yeah, I'll, uh--I'll go," he said quickly.

You watched him walk out of the room and you exhaled heavily. The man had literally just saved your life and you were rude to him. You felt bad, but you were also so annoyed with him. He'd looked at you when he thought you were dying, but now that you were going to be okay? He couldn't look at you. It hurt more than you could ever express.

**********

Three days later, you were finally released from the infirmary and allowed to go back to your room. You were limping slightly, the pain in your side worsening if you walked too quickly. When you got to your room, you collapsed on your bed, tired of being stuck in the hospital bed. The comfort of your own bed quickly lulled you to sleep, the most restful sleep you'd had in days.

When you woke up, you were starving. You looked at your phone and realized you'd been sleeping for several hours and it was already 8pm. You dragged yourself out of bed and made your way downstairs to get some food.

When you entered the kitchen, you were surprised to see Steve sitting at the island, quietly eating a bowl of cereal by himself.

"Cereal at 8pm?" you asked with a chuckle.

Steve's head shot up at the sound of your voice. "I, uh--I haven't eaten much the last few days. I was hungry."

You cocked your head to the side as you regarded him. "Is everything okay? You normally eat enough for five grown men."

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "It's just been tough these past few days."

"Why? Did something happen?"

He just shrugged, staring down into his bowl of cereal.

"Stevie?" you whispered.

"I don't want to talk about it, (Y/N)."

You were so surprised by the sharpness of his voice that you instantly backed off. "Sorry. I'll just make a quick sandwich and I'll be out of your hair."

Steve exhaled loudly, the urge to punch himself in the face overwhelmingly strong. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to snap."

"It's alright." You set about making your sandwich in silence. After a few moments you spoke again. "If you decide you want to talk about whatever is bothering you, I'll be around."

He was surprised by your offer, but he nodded his appreciation. "Thanks."

"Anytime," you say as you grab your sandwich and make your way back to your room.

You don't see the way Steve stares at your back as you walk away, eyes filled with tears at the way you limped, pain obvious in every move you made. You didn't see the tears fall down his cheeks, nor the way he rubbed his forehead, stress evident on his features. He hated himself for so many reasons in this moment, shame oozing from every pore in his body. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you, but that was clearly what he was doing. He wanted to talk to you, to explain what he was doing, to finally tell you the truth, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to go to you, couldn't tell you how he felt...couldn't even admit it to himself.

**********

Almost three weeks passed before you finally started to feel relatively normal. Your side still ached a little, but you'd been cleared to start working out again. You were insanely thankful, having been cooped up in your room for weeks.

You walked into the compound's gym, happy to find it blissfully empty. It was early morning, long before most of your team was even awake. You started with your stretching before hopping on the treadmill, knowing you still needed to take it slow.

You didn't notice when Steve entered the gym, surprise on his face to see you there. He hadn't heard that you'd been cleared, but he also hadn’t spoken to you since that night in the kitchen. Maybe a word of greeting in passing, but nothing more than that.

He knew he couldn't just ignore you, so he decided to make his presence known. "Good morning," he called.

You turned your head and shot him a smile. "Good morning, Steve."

"When did you get cleared?"

"Last night actually."

Steve nodded. "Awesome. How, uh--how are you feeling?"

"Actually really good. Still a little sore, but almost back to normal. Being able to get back into the grove of things is definitely going to help. I was so tired of sitting around my room."

"I bet," he said as he picked up a set of free-weights. "I would probably die of boredom."

You chuckled at the the joking tone of his voice. "I almost did," you joked back.

He just smiled, attention now focusing on his own workout.

You watched quietly, eyes locked on the man across the room from you. He was looking in the mirror as he lifted, making sure to keep his stance proper.

After several minutes, Steve's eyes drifted, meeting yours in the mirror. You blushed as you looked away, slightly ashamed for staring at him so blatantly. To your surprise, you saw a small smirk form on Steve's lips, but he didn't say anything.

Steve was equally surprised to see you watching him. What really got to him was the clear desire he swore he saw in your eyes...but that couldn't be. You were Bucky's girl, always would be. It didn't matter that Bucky was never coming back, in Steve's mind, you belonged to someone else.

The two of you continued to do your workouts in silence. You finished up about 30 minutes later and headed back to your room to take a shower.

While in the shower, you let your mind wander...thinking about your relationship with Steve and how complicated everything had become. You just wanted to talk to him, to get back to a good place with him.

As soon as you got out of the shower, you quickly threw some clothes on, not even bothering with undergarments. Moments later, you were standing in front of his door, banging on it like a crazy person.

After several knocks, the door swung open to reveal a scantily clad Steve, hair and chest still damp from his own shower. When he saw that it was you knocking on the door, a deep blush heated up his face and he practically jumped backwards, searching for a shirt to throw on.

"Hey, sorry--I didn't know it was you. Would have put a shirt on," he mumbled as he pulled a clean t-shirt over his head.

"It's okay," you said as you entered his room and closed the door. "We need to talk."

"Umm, okay," he said. "What about?"

"I think you know."

He looked at the floor, the wall, the ceiling, literally anywhere but at you.

"That!" you yelled, pointing at his face.

"What?"

"You haven't looked at me since the day I got stabbed...and even before that, you could barely look at me. We don't speak, we don't hang out, it's like we don't even know each other. I need you, Steve, and I hate this. I hate how this feels."

Steve was quiet, knowing you were right.

"You have nothing to say?"

"I--I don't...what do you want me to say?"

"Anything, Steve! I want you to just say something! Tell me I'm crazy, tell me you hate me, tell me you never want to see my face again, but dear god, please don't keep doing this to me. I can't live like this," you ended your rant with in a whisper.

Steve looked down at the floor, the pain in your voice eating away at his resolve. He hated this as much as you did, but he wasn't sure what he should do...what he should say. "I don't hate you," he said softly.

You inhaled a stuttered breath and tried to keep your voice even, "Then why are you doing this?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispered. "I'd never want to hurt you."

You took a step towards him. "At least look at me," you begged.

He knew if he looked into your eyes, he would lose it. But the pain in your voice mixed with the soft pleading tone nearly broke his heart in two. His eyes very slowly rose up to meet yours. The moment they did, everything changed. All of the emotions both of you had been keeping locked away came bubbling to the surface, evident in your gazes.

"(Y/N)," he whispered.

The way he said your name spoke volumes. You suddenly realized he felt the same way you did: guilt and shame covering a deep, endless love.

You took a step toward him, then another, until you were close enough to touch him. You started to reach up towards his face, but his gaze shifted away from you.

"Don't look away," you pleaded softly, laying your palm against his cheek.

His eyes met yours again and your heart clenched in your chest. There was so much you wanted to say, to explain, but you couldn't. It was as if your entire vocabulary had disappeared in an instant.

The same could not be said for Steve. Your loss for words somehow opened the floodgates of his mind. "Out of all of the things I imagined happening in the last year, falling in love with you was not one of them. I never intended to, I wouldn't do that to you, or to Bucky...but it just happened. I thought the guilt would ease if I didn't tell you how I felt, but it kept eating away at me, so I thought that maybe if I pulled away from you, the love would go away too."

"How'd that go for you?" you asked softly.

He laughed mirthlessly, taking your hand from his cheek and holding it in his own. "Worse than I could ever describe." He took a deep breath. "When you got hurt...I was terrified. I thought I was going to lose you and it nearly killed me. But when you survived and started to get better, the guilt I felt was drowning me. Guilt for loving you, guilt for hurting you, guilt for letting you down...I couldn't breathe."

"I know how it feels to carry that guilt," you murmured. "When I realized I'd fallen for you, I hated myself. My only thought was how could I do that to Bucky? It felt like I was betraying him." You sighed. "But I know better than that. I know Bucky better than that. All he ever wanted was for me to be happy, even if he wasn't around for it."

"He was my best friend," Steve whispered. "And he loved you more than anything in this life. It feels like I'm spitting on his grave bc I feel the same way he did."

"He wrote me a letter," you said softly. "'You may be the love of my life, but I don't have to be yours.'" You shook your head. "He made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I would move on, find love again, live a beautiful life. It was the only thing he ever wanted for me."

Steve was surprised to hear Bucky had written you a letter. His friend had never mentioned anything like that to him. He wasn't surprised, however, to hear what Bucky made you promise him. He was always planning for the future...just in case.

"I didn't think I'd fall in love again so quickly, but it's not something I can control," you said. "It's too late now. My heart chose you."

For the first time in his life, Steve didn't think. He didn't pause, didn't try to be rational. He acted on impulse, on desire, on months of pent-up emotion.

His lips met yours in an unexpected fiery kiss, a kiss that stole all the air from your lungs. It was intoxicating and overwhelming, the kind of kiss you never wanted to end.

But of course, it had to end, you both needed to breathe, though neither of you wanted to part. You were breathless when Steve's lips left yours, leaving you wanting more.

His forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours. "If we do this," he whispered, "there's no going back."

You pulled away so you could look up at him. "I don't wanna go back."

Your words were the confirmation he needed to hear. He pulled you in tightly against himself, hands grabbing at your hips to keep you close. His lips slammed against yours again, tongue sliding into your mouth, a low moan slipping from his throat.

You found yourself suddenly desperate, the need to feel his skin against yours so overwhelming you couldn't breathe. You clawed at his shirt, silently urging him to remove it. He got the hint, pulling away from you just long enough to tug his shirt off over his head.

Steve wanted you so badly, his entire body ached with need, but he didn't want to lose control. He knew very well that his sheer size and strength could easily hurt you, and he wanted to be gentle.

His hands slid up under your shirt, tugging it upwards to help you remove it. When he saw your bare chest, he let out a low groan. "Holy...no bra?"

"Comfort first," you said lightly before leaning back into him, tugging his face down to yours, lips against his ear. "No panties, either."

Steve felt his cock jump at your words and if the man cursed, this would be the moment to do it. Instead he said, "You're killing me, doll."

"I'm just getting started," you teased before pushing him back so he fell onto the bed. His hands were still gripping you tightly, so he pulled you along with him. You landed on top of him with a chuckle before kissing him affectionately.

You made quick work of removing his pants, along with your own, revealing your nude form to him. He found himself wanting to touch and kiss every square inch of your body, but it seemed you had other plans.

You began to pull his underwear down and his cock sprang free. It was as large as you expected and you licked your lips in anticipation.

Steve watched you with wide eyes, much less comfortable in the bedroom than you were, given his minimal experience.

Your eyes flicked up to his as you slowly leaned down, taking his cock into your mouth, eyes never leaving his. His moan was so loud it sent a wave of desire straight to your core.

Steve watched as you began to move, lips wrapped tightly around his cock. He'd never felt something so incredible in his life, his moans evidence of his pleasure. His hand grabbed your hair and pulled it to the side so he could watch you as you sucked.

"Feels so good, doll," he groaned.

You moaned, sending vibrations through his cock, eliciting a deep moan from his chest. You started to pick up speed, your motions urging him quickly towards his orgasm.

"Doll, if you--god--if you keep doing that I'm gonna cum," he whispered.

You lifted off his cock for a second and looked up at him with a smile. "That's the point, handsome."

You descended on him again, picking up right where you left off. His hips began to jerk, his breathing shallowed, and his moans increased in volume.

You knew he was about to cum, so you relaxed your throat and took all of him into you. The sudden constriction and the warm, wet heat of your mouth had him cummming instantly, gasps of your name leaving his lips.

You swallowed everything he had to give, making sure to lick his tip clean once he was finished. His body shuddered and he tugged gently on your hair, letting you know he was sensitive.

He pulled you up to him, reaching out to drag your face down to his so he could kiss you. "That was incredible, doll," he murmured.

"Glad I could be of service," you said lightly.

He grinned. "I think it's my turn."

"Oh?" You knew Steve wasn't as experienced as you were, but that didn't mean he didn't have some moves up his sleeve.

"Mhmm," he hummed. "Come on up here and sit on my face, pretty girl."

Your eyes widened in shock, jaw going slack at his words. "Pardon me?"

He chuckled at your shocked expression. "You heard me, doll. I want you to sit on my face."

"And here I thought you were a good boy, Steven," you teased.

He groaned involuntarily at the praise and you picked up on it immediately.

"You like it when I call you a good boy, don't you?"

He nodded vigorously, surprised at the way those two words turned him on.

You ran your fingers through his hair gently. "Well, you have been a really good boy for me so far, so I suppose I could give you a reward."

"Please," he begged softly, not quite sure what he was begging for.

You grinned wolfishly. "Lay flat, pretty boy."

The giant man practically preened at your words. He felt this overwhelming desire to do whatever you asked him to do, to please you in every possible way. He was willing to do anything to earn your praise.

Once he was comfortable, you moved to hover over his head, preparing to give him what he asked for. "You sure, baby?" you asked sweetly.

His hands grabbed your thighs, gripping them tightly. "I wanna taste you," he whimpered.

You could have cum right there just looking at his needy expression and the pleading tone in his voice. You lowered yourself onto his mouth, allowing him to determine how much of your weight he wanted on his face.

His tongue darted out, licking against your pussy gently. He grunted, clearly bothered by the way you seemed to hover over him. He pulled you down against him with all of his strength and held you there firmly.

He let out a moan of contentment as he began to eat you out in earnest.

"Holy...shit, baby," you moaned, grabbing at his headboard for support.

In between desperate moans of pleasure, all you could think was holy fucking shit, where the hell had he learned how to do that? It was like he knew every single one of your sweet spots without having to learn them. He knew exactly what you needed to have you falling apart on his mouth in minutes.

"Oh god--Steve, please--don't stop, baby--please."

He loved hearing you beg, especially in that tone. He could practically hear the pleasure dripping from your voice as your arousal dripped into his mouth. He wanted to hear the sounds you made as you came, so he sped up his movements, silently begging you to soak his face.

And soak his face you did. You came with a cry of his name, juices pouring into his mouth as he continued to lap at your core. His tight grip on your thighs kept you from squirming out of his grip until he decided he was finished tasting you.

When he finally let you go, you collapsed on the bed beside him. "Good lord, Steve," you said breathlessly. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

He was still licking his lips as he rolled over to look at you. "Would you laugh if I said 'the internet'?"

Your head snapped to the left to look at him. "You learned how to eat my pussy like that from the internet?"

He could hear the incredulity in your voice and it made him blush with pride, and maybe a little embarrassment at hearing you say the word 'pussy'. "So I did alright?"

You grabbed his face and held him still. "Baby, you were amazing."

His blush only deepened. "Thanks, doll."

"Thank you," you teased warmly.

He chuckled lightly. "Is it okay if I'm not done with you yet?"

You grinned. "I'd be upset if you were."

He grinned back and rolled on top of you, wedging himself comfortably between your thighs. He looked down at you, eyes taking in your beautifully disheveled appearance. "You're so gorgeous," he whispered reverently.

Now it was your turn to blush under his appreciative gaze. His fingers ghosted over the scar on your side, a look of sadness crossing his features. Much to your surprise, his hand kept moving and his expression lost any trace of sorrow. While he hated seeing a scar mar you perfect skin, it served as a reminder of your strength.

His hands gently traced the tattoo on your collarbone and shoulder, eyes following the path as he moved. You couldn't help the shiver that raced through your body at his touch, the need for him pooling in your belly once again.

"Baby?"

"Hmm?" he hummed in response, eyes still on your body.

"I need you," you whispered.

His eyes shot to yours instantly, cock twitching at the need in your voice. "What do you need me to do, sweet girl?"

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, suddenly feeling shy. You had no issue demanding what you wanted from your partner, but Steve was different. He was softer, gentler, more innocent than anyone you'd ever been with. The coarse way you usually talked in the bedroom didn't feel quite right with him, so you tried a much softer approach.

"I wanna feel you inside me, baby," you murmured. "I ache for you."

Steve groaned lowly. "Anything you want, doll."

He lined himself up with your entrance and looked up at you for confirmation before slowly entering your core. He could see the pain on your face, despite the moans coming from your mouth, and it hurt him more than he'd care to admit.

"I'm sorry, doll," he whispered, placing soft kisses all over your face. "I know it hurts, sweet girl. I'll go slow--I'm sorry."

You loved how much this man cared about you, how gentle he wanted to be. It warmed your heart, but you didn't want him to think that you couldn't handle the stretch...this wasn't your first rodeo, so you knew the pain would quickly subside.

"Look at me," you said firmly, hands reaching down to grab at Steve's hips.

He looked at you, concern etched onto his handsome face.

"I can handle a little pain, Steve." Your hands slid to his ass. "I need to feel you inside of me and I need it now." You dug your fingers into him and pulled his lower body towards you, forcing his cock farther into you.

Your demands, mixed with the incredible feeling of being inside of you, urged Steve to plunge the rest of the way into your core. You gasped at the feeling of fullness, hands coming to rest on his biceps.

He was breathing hard already, the feeling of being inside of you was something he could never describe. It was the most pleasure he'd ever experienced and he hadn't even moved yet.

"Make love to me," you begged, a bit of dominance in your voice.

Steve's body reacted completely on its own, hips moving back and forth without thought. The moment he began to move, his brain was so consumed with pleasure that he couldn't think of anything else but you.

"You feel so good, doll. I love being inside you," he moaned into your ear.

Your brain had already began to shut down, blinding pleasure building in your abdomen. The only thing you cared about was reaching your high. "Harder, Steve," you begged.

He was slightly surprised by your demand, but he wasn't going to deny you. His hips began to move faster, slamming into you with more force. He didn't feel like he was giving you what you needed, so he shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts.

You cried out in pleasure, the new angle allowing him to hit a spot so deep inside of you, it was rare a man would find it. "Steve!" you moaned.

Even if he had been completely deaf and blind, he still would have known how much you enjoyed what he was doing by the way your core squeezed him so tightly. He was finding it extremely difficult not to cum, but he would be damned if he came before you. He was a gentleman, after all.

"Baby girl, I need you to cum for me," he whispered.

You were so close, but you needed more. "Talk dirty to me," you begged. Had you been in your right mind, you wouldn't have asked this of him, but your brain was too clouded with pleasure to think straight.

Steve was shocked by your request, but he could see it in your eyes--you needed this. He wasn't accustomed to dirty talk, but he'd be a liar if he said he'd never seen it in porn or read it in a book.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," he said, not sure if he was saying the right thing.

You moaned softly, spurring him on.

"So tight and warm. Squeezing me so good," he murmured.

"So close, baby," you cried.

"Yeah? You like the way my cock feels inside you?"

You nodded rapidly, unable to speak.

"Yeah, I know you do. Making such pretty little sounds for me."

You were about to tip over the edge, legs shaking, head thrown back, moans louder than before.

Steve knew it too...he could tell you were close. He wracked his brain for something else to say--something that would hit you just right.

"That's it pretty girl. This pretty little pussy was made for me. All mine," he growled. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him a little uncomfortable to say it, but he thought it would do the trick.

You screamed his name, orgasm slamming into you like a freight train. Steve kept thrusting, making sure to help you ride out your orgasm, while also chasing his own.

Moments later, he came deep inside of you, grunting out your name as he filled you with his seed.

You were a shaking mess beneath him once he finished and he pulled out slowly, making sure not to hurt you. He laid on his side beside you and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you tightly against him with your back to his front.

"You okay, doll?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," you said, still trying to catch your breath.

"Good." He was also out of breath, but it took him a lot less time to come back to normal.

Once your breathing had gone back to normal, his body relaxed. He was consumed with the desire to protect you and ensure you were happy and safe. Even the sounds of your labored breathing had his heart clenching in his chest.

"Excellent work with the dirty talk," you said softly. "Sorry I asked you to do that--I--I wasn't thinking straight."

He kissed your shoulder softly. "It's okay, doll. I'll do anything you ask of me. I'm glad I did okay."

"Okay?" you said in surprise, turning to look at him. "That was way better than okay."

He blushed, basking in your appreciation. "Would you laugh if I said it was the best sex of my life?"

You grinned. "I would never laugh, Steve. It's a honor to hold such a title...and also gives me a really good incentive."

"Incentive for what?"

"To do better next time," you teased, kissing him before rolling over so you could face him properly. "And the time after that."

He laughed. "I'll work on the dirty talk too, since I know you like that."

You smiled and touched his face gently. "I know how hard it was for you to say the word 'pussy', but it was hot as hell."

The redness in his cheeks deepened. "That's how you know I really love you. I'm willing to say things I've never said in my life."

"Well you also have a massive praise kink, so that probably factors in."

"A praise kink? What's that?"

You chuckled at his innocence. It was so damn cute. "You know how you liked it when I called you a 'good boy'?"

He groaned at the thought. "I think I remember."

You smiled. "Yeah, that's a praise kink. And the way you reacted to my demands? Kinda submissive...which, is a bit of a change for me, but it's incredibly hot."

"Really?"

You sat up slightly, gesturing to his large form. "Baby, you're a huge, hulking, massive specimen of a man...to have you being so submissive to me, so willing to do anything I ask? It's the biggest turn on I can imagine."

"So you think I'm a huge, hulking, massive specimen of a man?" he teased.

You smacked him lightly and he grabbed you, flipping you under him with ease. He ran his fingers lightly over your skin, tickling you as he moved.

"Oh my god, stop--stop," you said breathlessly, laughter spilling from your lips.

He stopped and his lips met yours in a sweet, loving kiss. "Sorry, doll. You're just so cute, I couldn't help it."

You rolled your eyes jokingly. "You're a dork."

"Mhmm," he hummed. "I'm your dork."

You sighed softly. "Yes you are, and I'm pretty damn lucky."

"Super lucky," he teased.

"Oh so you're a brat too?"

"A brat?"

Your eyes held a dark sparkle in them that intrigued him, but also kind of turned him on.

"Oh baby, I have so much to teach you."

"Can we start now?" he asked lightly, eyes full of mischief and love.

You grinned ear to ear, reaching up to tug his face down to yours. You kissed him deeply, sparking a passionate desire deep within him. He was putty in your hands and you reveled in the feeling of power. But if he asked you for something, you would do it without a second thought...so perhaps you were just as malleable in his hands as he was in yours. In that moment, you decided you wanted to spend the rest of your life finding out.