WHAT DID I SAYYYY I WANT MOREEE

I want two boys to fight over me too

Pet Names

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: The boys wonder why you don’t have any pet names for them. A/N: 2 of ?? Snapshots between you, Steve, and Bucky. In the same canon as Mystery of Love– check it out first :) 

They have so many for you: Angel, darling, sweetheart, kitten, honey. All tender and easily passing over their lips any chance they get. Some were more creative: doll-baby, honeybunny, pumpkin, cherub. Some of them would stoke fires in your cheeks just at the sound of their silly syllables rolling off your lovers’ tongues.

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just the tip? - choso kamo; no nut november "i don't think i can do this," choso mumbles, burying his face into your neck and ignoring the movie in the background. "jus' the tip. please, baby, lemme have this," he whines, grabbing a handful of your hip and squeezing. "cho, pay attention to the movie." you murmur back, tugging on a strand of his hair, and he only shakes his head and fumbles for the remote. "no, baby, i can't do this challenge, its hard..." his cock is already painfully hard and swollen in his pants as he palms your thighs, pouting. "need t'have you...please..." and chosos drowsy eyes meet yours, and he looks so needy, that you cant tell him no. his fingers pull your panties to the side just enough, and he cant stop himself from hastily shoving down his sweatpants and he whimpers when he gets to slide his tip against your sopping cunt. hes kissing you, messy and wet and grabbing at your flesh as best he can while he pants against your mouth. he cant wait, he said just the tip, but- his hips stutter forward, sinking into you another inch and making him babble mindlessly against your lips. "oh- please, so good, she's suckin' me in-" he drawls, tears gathering on his eyelashes as he whimpers against your chest. his swollen, blushing tip is kissing against your walls, weak, delirious cants of his hips pushing just a little further into you and making him groan against your neck. choso was so sure he'd survive no-nut-november. when you first told him about it, he thought it would be easy. "she's so loud f'me, baby," hes breathing into your skin, fevered pants and open-mouthed, sticky kisses to your neck. it wasnt easy. he made it a week, but now, he barely thinks he can last a minute with your pretty little cunt sucking him in. he doesn't even realize hes crying and hiccupping through his moans. his vision is white with stars while hes twitching inside you, finally bottoming out inside you and almost immediately losing himself in a nauseating climax that makes him swear he'll pass out. but he doesnt, his eyes lidded and his breath ragged as he rolls his hips into yours again and again, his cock hilted snugly inside your cunt while he tries not to crush you under his weight. the whole time, hes whining into your shirt, babbling about how pretty you look, how good your sopping walls are sucking him in and taking his whole load as he presses his face into your chest.

when he gets ahold of himself, hes kissing you all over your face, smiling deliriously and making sure you cum just as good as he did with his rough thumb to your clit and slow, tantalizing rolls of his hips into yours.

he probably wont be doing no-nut-november next year.

This is incredibly relatable because my love language is also sharing food. You want my fries? Take all of them babe. Oh you want my mash potatoes? Have at it sweetie.

bucky doesn’t share food- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, platonic!sam wilson x reader, platonic!!natasha romanoff x reader, platonic!steve rogers x reader, platonic!sam wilson x bucky barnes

warnings: cursing, i think that’s all?? this is a crackfic lol

about: based off friends, bucky doesn’t share food.

god, you hated when sam was right.

you despised how he would shove it in your face for two weeks and parade around the compound like he just won the fucking lottery or something.

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Gojo: Y/N kissed me!

Geto, gasping: No!

Shoko, squealing: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!

Gojo: It was unbelievable.

Geto: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!

Shoko: Okay, okay, we wanna hear everything. Geto, get the wine and unplug the phone. Gojo, does this end well or do we need tissues?

Gojo: Oh it ended verrrry well.

Geto, rushing over with wine glasses: Do not start without me! Do not start without me!

Shoko: Alright, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it like a soft brush against your lips, or was it like a, y'know, “I gotta have you now” kinda thing?

Gojo: Well, at first it was really intense, y'know, and then… oh god, and then we just sorta sunk into it…

Geto & Shoko, squealing: Awwwwww!!!

[Cut to Nanami and Y/N casually eating pizza around the table]

Y/N: And uh, and then I kissed him.

Nanami: Tongue?

Y/N: Yeah.

Nanami: Cool.

Clint is so cool

idle hands

Clint Barton x Reader

Prompt: “my butt is not a drum, dude.”

Summary: you’re trying to get work done on a quiet afternoon, but your boyfriend clint barton is nothing if not distracting.

Warnings: fluff, smut, adult language, fingering, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 3,123

Got a Request? Prompt list for: tony | clint | quill

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So cute. I hate kids but this... >>

Test Drive (Oneshot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky has a breeding kink.

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: smut (18+), female receiving oral, penetrative sex

A/N: LOL HEY EVERYBODY! this one has been in my drafts for over a year and I rewatched civil war yesterday so I’m mentally prepared to write about bucky barnes again. hope everyone is well love u all xoxoxoxo GIF IS NOT MINE

“I don’t understand. Is this gift for Pepper, or for their kid?” Bucky raised up a set of booties meant for a toddler, sticking one of his fingers inside the tiny shoe. “Don’t tell me it’s for Stark.”

“I have no clue,” you answered honestly. “It’s a baby shower, but the baby isn’t even out of the womb yet, so I don’t understand why we are giving things to it.”

Bucky chuckled at your words. “I mean, it’ll be out soon.”

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Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye. 

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines. 

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face. 

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half of amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great. 

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and makings sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you. 

It’s fine. 

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that. 

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring, obnoxious loud, and suddenly he's realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the morning that’s always greener than the last. 

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack, when it’s not from you. 

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say. 

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake. It’s like they didn’t even try.”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways? 

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up. 

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that. 

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question. 

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood. 

But what they don’t know is that you texted to let him know you’re staying another week. 

Fucking texted. 

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice. 

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out. 

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home. 

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh. 

The door handle rattles. 

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing. 

You’re here. 

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble. 

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute. 

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat. 

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion. 

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason from keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No. 

It can’t be. 

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure. 

Toji missed you. 

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better. 

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you. 

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts. 

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home. 

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready with the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.” 

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says, 

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you. 

lovesick ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

toji fushiguro x reader

content: toji realizes how much he loves you.

toji wakes up in an empty, cold bed. he reaches to try to hold you and realizes you're not there. your side of the bed was wrinkled, the blanket has moved to toji's side. he noticed he's been tucked in like a little kid. he slightly laughs at the thought of you tucking him in, he's imagining the amount of effort. his eyes glance at the clock, it was 6am which was way too early for you to get up. highly suspicious, he rolls out of bed and makes his way around his house.

but when he sees you dancing in your little apron, making breakfast for him and megumi, his figure's stiff. he's grinning, truly impressed at the way you care for his son. you spot the tall man, "oh, you're up already? it's way too early, babe!" you make your way to him, arms creeping up to his tense shoulders. "you weren't there so i had t'come find you." he relaxes in your arms, a soft grin replicates yours. "'m sorry, my love. i wanted to make breakfast for you and gumi. i packed his lunch too, he's set for the day!" your sincere, motherly tone made toji fall more in love with you.

he grabs your hand, holding it in his. his rough hands which are only smooth because they've touched your love. he brings the back of your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss that sparked a fire inside. you giggle, "you're so lovey-dovey today, baby. are you in loveee with me?" toji sarcastically rolls his eyes, "what if i was?" you pretend to waste time, hand on chin, actin' like you didn't know the answer. "guess i would say i love you." toji hums with a cheeky grin, "mhm, i love you too, baby. think i love you too much."

I'm crying 😂😂

someone make brat!reader exposing daddy!steve to the team an imagine/blurb pls i need to see the hysterics more in depth

occupation: brat masterlist

The team – after the fiasco that was your relationship’s reveal – settles into the groove of things after a while. Sam still fake-pukes when Steve kisses your cheek and Natasha still warns Steve to keep his hands where she can see them when you’re cuddling on the couch, but things have generally reverted back to normal. And – to your relief – nobody had made a big deal out of it when you started calling Tony dad.

(Except Tony, that is, who has never not made a big deal out of anything in his life.)

You don’t know exactly when it happened. After telling him that you felt like he was the father you never really actually had he’d taken up the mantle fully, but you hadn’t had the nerve to fully call him dad. Until you did, of course, and nobody had said anything. Pepper had glassy eyes and Sam looked like the human embodiment of Surprised Pikachu but other than that, everything was going smoothly.

Until, of course, everyone had gathered for a team potluck on a Friday night. Well, you say potluck, but really it was just Sam bringing the entire meal and Wanda making dessert, because Clint apparently has no culinary skills, Natasha was busy sharpening her knives, Bucky is a senior citizen, and Vision doesn’t eat, so he doesn’t cook. Every one of your teammates is a liar, you’ve come to realise.

You’re chewing on a piece of Mac n’ Cheese when the ball drops.

“Daddy, pass the salt?”

A tale as old as time.

Tony and Steve both reach for the salt shaker.

And it’s painful, really. Kill Bill sirens going off in the background, Tony staring wide-eyed at the table in front of him, Sam choking and hacking on a piece of chicken. Bucky has gone stock still. Clint’s drink was spit back into his cup – Wanda’s trying so fucking hard not to laugh and failing miserably, and Vision, bless him, has no clue what’s going on.

Bruce’s lips are but a thin line, wide eyes flickering unsurely between Tony and you and Steve and Sam because Jesus Christ, Sam, are you genuinely choking?

Yes. Yes, he is.

With flushed cheeks you glance up at your super-soldier boyfriend, and clearly, he’s just as embarrassed as you are. He’s literally a tomato, his hand still frozen over the unassuming salt shaker, and for a moment you genuinely think you’re going to die. The floor is going to open and you are going to be put out of your misery–

Tony has reached the final stage of grief; acceptance, albeit hesitant and slightly disgusted. He clears his throat and pushes out his chair, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Fatherhood really takes a toll on you, huh? 

“I’m going to get another drink,” he says steadily, peering around the table. “And when I get back, we’re going to pretend that that never happened.”

“Agreed,” is chorused back unanimously.

tags:

Marvel: @dukehoods / @marvelsangel / @mysteryoflovve / @taeeemin / @iloveyou3000morgan / @mochibarnes / @https-bucky

Steve Rogers: @songforhema / @buckybarneshairpullingkink

Brat: @momobaby227 / @noire-griot / @bambifatale / @mikariell95 / @youpenguinadonis / @strangerliaa / @aquaastrid / @90sinspiredgirl

I love Chris and Sebastian tgt