#i hope this becomes the norm

[marimeeko]

As a multishipper I'm thinking about something. As a BKDK fan, I am, I guess preparing for a possibility?

I had a thought with this last chapter, and how this battle is literally about to end. That we are indeed at the very end of the line.

And I am thinking of the "Do your best, Izuku" theme and how everyone started chiming in on it, how it has become basically the closing motif to the battle. And how Tenya brought up the OG, ochako, who said the "Deku" seemed to her like "Do your best", and of course, ochako is seen saying the same.

So my thought is, if Hori is going for a Izu Ocha ending, this might be how it comes about.

(I am not saying it's one hundred percent satisfying, bc once again, Izuku has shown virtually no interest in her beyond friendship, and the relationship, to me, is still thematically and developmentally, one sided.)

So I don't know if hori is going to go with the idea that "do your best" bringing the relationship of Izu Ocha to the forefront after kicking it to the side for so long...but I guess I can see the thematic possibility he MAY be going for if that is the case.

Once again, I am hoping it's not a blatant thing, if anything I'd like no pairing to be outright "canon". Realistically I think that may be the case. Simply bc izu ocha just doesn't have enough reciprocity behind it and, bakudeku...well, obviously is highly unlikely due to the nature of Shonen/cultural precedence by very reason of it being Queer.

I am just thinking about the whole thing and it may be where Izu Ocha enters the Chat again.

As always I am letting Hori cook, and tempering expectations. I don't dislike Izu Ocha so I won't be terribly bummed out, I just wish there was a little more developed into it(namely, on izukus side)

As I always disclaim, it's Horis story to tell, and I am here to read it, and I'm not stopping now.

[garrettwrites]

People on this website will be like: "In a gay ship you don't need to have a feminine one and a masculine one! No need for sub/dom dynamics! No need for strict top/bottom sexual positions!"

And you think to yourself yes. Indeed. We are finally accepting that gay people are as varied as any other person because we're all human!

But then the bottom line of the post is something along the lines of "they can both be real men and masculine and muscular and hairy and do fart jokes and maybe have a beer belly" and you're just like oh. This is just one of those posts that doesn't view not-idealised men as men. You don't view "girly guys" as just guys. You're being progressive by saying men... get to be men. You're being progressive by getting mad at... men being depicted as feminine, rather than being progressive by just stating you don't need to enforce stereotypes onto a gay (fictional) couple.

Which btw I agree. Unfortunately it still needs to be said that gay men can be masculine. But there's a difference between that and you just being shocked at the notion that, idk, two guys who pass as women on a good day can be in love with each other and be, indeed, a gay couple and not lesbian lite.

[dukeofthomas]

I've been struggling w waking up way too early for a month and I just got my first good night's sleep in a month let's go!!

[sepal-sea]

I just caught up on the new eps of maws and WHO WAS GOING TO TELL ME THEY ADAPTED THE GAY FRENCH APE AND HIS GAY FRENCH DISEMBODIED BRAIN LOVER

I do think this is peak representation in fact every bizarre bit of (usually somewhat problematic) rep that doom patrol comics ever put out is peak representation let us not forget coagula the lesbian trans programmer/prostitute who got her powers by having sex with the weirdest most questionable intersex space entity in the midst of a mental crisis ever what an icon.

but in all seriousness I actually really enjoy how obvious it is that the ppl making maws actually care about comics and stuff, and how much they embrace the fun and wholesome and campy parts of dc. like who else would have the courage to adapt the brain and monsieur mallah like this? NOBODY is who

anyways this is all to say get fucked boring grimdark power fantasy dccu

[yavin42]

some people love to pit black sails and ofmd against each other for a weird and unfounded battle over pirate show supremacy. but apart from the tonal differences and totally different perspectives of their main themes, and the fact that it doesn’t diminish either shows to recognise the other, it seems to me that in ofmd there are numerous quotes and appreciative nods to black sails in both dramaturgy and minor details (despite their differing genres) that make clear that it’s not the intention to be the “better queer pirate show” that some fans seem to read from it as an act of insolence but a recognition of the great work that at least in some way paved the road for their show. ofmd is in itself a transformative work both in it being in a way like fan fiction and its consistent commitment to giving tropes of incredibly popular genres of fiction (both the adventure/pirate story and the rom com - genres that come with a whole force of normative power) a different spin and a new reading.

[scratchyemporium]

when all your pizza rolls are gone

[deorexploreseve]

Tableflip.gif

Ugh I moved all my stuff to a different part of New Eden to get AWAY from incursions and the chaos they bring. So, naturally, two weeks after I get settled an incursion starts up two systems over.

I guess I'm going to have to temporarily relocate my most used stuff to a third FOB some place farther away from the chaos. I have a candidate in mind already, I was just hoping to have a bit more time to get everything taken care of.

[tennessoui]

Just to clarify, I was the one who was all "Wait, people LIKE WIPs??" and I am someone who for my mental health has to be really careful with unfinished stories. It's great for those of you who like them! It's just hard for me to understand in anything but the super abstract. :)

thanks for adding some context to that ask! it was a bit jarring to receive, as someone who continuously works on wips and has strong opinions about their importance to fandom.

i do think that not liking wips or not reading them is a worryingly fast, growing part of fandom which can spell pretty grim things for writers' longevity in fandom and even their longevity writing fic in general. we need to be encouraging and welcoming and reading fics that aren't finished; we need to get invested in fics that only have ~3k works so far; we need to recc wips to other people and cheer the writers on, or we're really not going to see a lot of people writing wips anymore.

[rimeiii]

Using What in "Hell" is Bad as an excuse to talk about video game mechanics (pt. 1)

And honestly, not just as an excuse - but also as a way to voice out my concerns for the gameplay.

Because I've been thinking about the game mechanics in What in "Hell" is Bad, specifically the damage instance miss as shown in the gameplay trailer of WHB and how it's something that I personally am not a fan of (as the bitch who cares more about the gameplay than anything else), and I think it all boils down to game design. There's several points to it that I hope I can get through eloquently, but it all does boil down to one key issue:

Consistency.

Now, what do I mean by that?

(more under the cut!)

Also, a disclaimer: ALL of the situations below are based on my thought processes, as someone who likes a challenge in gaming. I play Nuzlockes, I like mainline SMT, I do high Surging in IS3 (currently attempting 11), I play hard Pokémon romhacks, and more. Not everyone will think like I do, and that's fine.

And even though the opening statement is for WHB, at the end of the day I end up talking extensively about my thought processes in building a team for hard Pokémon romhacks, specifically Radical Red, so. Just a heads-up!

Consistency, in this case, is basically a measure of how often a skill/strategy is able to have an effect. The less RNG is required for a skill/strategy to work, the more consistent it is. It's the usual Fire Blast vs Flamethrower debate - would you risk the 85% accuracy for a 120 (gen 1-5)/110 (gen 6 onward) base power attack in Fire Blast, or take the guaranteed hit with a lower base power of 95 (gen 1-5)/90 (gen 6 onward) in Flamethrower? Some would take the Fire Blast, others would prefer the Flamethrower.

Consistency issues usually don't tend to be a thing in most tower defense games, in my experience. Most if not all damage instances are sure hits (unless the enemy has some sort of immunity), and RNG factors are minimal when it comes to inflicting damage. That isn't to say RNG is completely gone from tower defense games - the easiest examples being the butter from Kernelpults in Plants vs Zombies and certain Operator Talents like Mountain's 15% physical dodge or Lin's 50% chance of SP recovery on hit in Arknights. These RNG factors are balanced in a sense that they either have a decent chance for a completely broken effect (butter stopping a zombie completely for several seconds), are ultimately nice bonuses for an already strong base kit (how I feel the dodge on Mountain's Talent is), or works well in accordance to their archetype (how I feel Lin's Talent is, which is boosted heavily and turns her into a stellar unit with her Module, increasing the SP regen chance from 50% to a more consistent 75%).

As a result, having an attack from a ranged unit miss in WHB's trailer, while understandable due to attacking from a distance, is another source of RNG - and while it may be a breath of fresh air in tower defense, as a mechanic I can see it inciting rage. In what way, however?

For me, it's easiest to explain in a Pokémon setting. As a side note, all the screenshots used are from the Radical Red romhack, a romhack of FireRed that has all Pokémon and moves introduced in Generation 9 while including all of the updated game mechanics (minus Terastalization) and being a generally hard game - even with both minimal grinding and Easy mode on.

(OP is trying to catch and evolve all possible Pokémon while leaving all the mind-bending team building in Run & Bun, so she chose those settings)

This is Regieleki's moveset upon capture within the Power Plant Raid Den in Radical Red. Zap Cannon is a supremely strong move that guarantees Paralysis on the opposing Pokémon if it hits, but it only hits 50% of the time. Yet in most situations, you never see this thing run Zap Cannon - despite its side effect and damage. You want to know why?

Its ability, Transistor.

Transistor plus the same type attack bonus (STAB) makes Regieleki deal absolutely ludicrous amounts of damage with its Electric type attacks. A weaker but more accurate Thunderbolt (95/90 base power depending on the generation with a chance to paralyze, but has 100 accuracy) is more than enough for damage because of its damage multipliers, without the chance of it missing. Of course, you could always use a move like Lock On or other ways to boost your Zap Cannon's accuracy, but you're putting yourself in danger because you'll be wasting a turn you can use to potentially pick up a KO while leaving it susceptible to getting KO'd itself.

So, it all comes down to risk vs reward: do you take the risk of a miss/KO to deal insane amounts of damage AND a status effect, or do you take the weaker guaranteed hit that might not inflict the status effect?

Back to WHB - it would seem like ranged units are the ones with a chance to miss, while the melee units all have guaranteed hits. And judging from the footage, it would seem that Paimon is the unit that did most if not all of the missed attacks, which leads me to hypothesize:

The miss might be due to Paimon's passive skill.

Miss chance might be based on unit rarity - because I don't recall seeing Gabriel and Satan miss anything, and they both are of higher rarity than Paimon.

The miss chance is necessary to balance the subclass Paimon is part of.

On paper, this sounds fine - a fresh way to implement a risk vs reward mechanic in team-building, encouraging varied team compositions to maximize damage. However, there's a reason why I placed emphasis on the fact it's on paper, because the implementations as seen in the preview itself is...less than ideal.

See, when someone thinks of risk vs reward, the risk you're taking must be directly proportional to the perceived reward for it to be a viable choice for the player. Otherwise, what is intended to be a high-risk-high-reward move that has some viability will be perceived as high-risk-mediocre-reward without any viability. In other words, if the reward obtained is not worth the risk taken, then the player most likely won't take the risk, and you're not doing this entire "risk vs reward" thing right.

As an example, let's take a look at Unburden Sneasler in Radical Red, in the context of building a team to go against Lorelei of the Elite Four.

Unburden Sneasler by principle is a relatively frail physical sweeper. With Unburden it becomes one of the fastest Pokemon in the entire game provided it loses its held item as its already high base speed is doubled with Unburden. There are several ways it can lose a held item - consuming a one-time use item (so stuff like Berries, Focus Sash, Herbs, and Gems) or using Fling.

So, the question becomes this:

Would you take the chance of Sneasler taking huge damage and/or dying on turn one to be able to strike first and deal immense damage on the enemy in the following turns?

Because Sneasler, despite its weaker defensive stats, has a typing that gives it 6 resistances with only 3 weaknesses (with only one of them being a quad weakness - Psychic). And you're definitely looking for ways to lose your item ASAP to activate Unburden. If you can, for example, knock out Lorelei's Alolan Ninetales on her Hail team before it can set up Aurora Veil (increases the party's defensive stats for 8 turns, as it's holding the Light Clay, increasing the length of these buffs), then you're in a much better position for the rest of the fight, right?

For context, let's theorycraft and look at these Pokémon in a vacuum for a bit. Lorelei's Hail team leads with Alolan Ninetales and Glaceon. Ninetales starts up Hail with its ability Snow Warning, allowing it to use Aurora Veil (which only works in Hail). Her Glaceon has Slush Rush, doubling its Speed in Hail - and outspeeding Sneasler. Sneasler will still outspeed Ninetales, but the Glaceon will likely aim to Earth Power the Sneasler, seeing as it'll deal more damage - especially with the Choice Specs (increases special attack by 50% but locks the Pokemon into the first move it used).

If Sneasler is holding the Shuca Berry (reduces the first Ground damage instance by 50%), there's a chance it's going to survive, while Unburden is activated. You take out the Ninetales turn one with both of your Pokemon (this means you'll also need a Pokemon faster than Ninetales as your other lead), and you can then Close Combat the next turn to deal immense damage and hopefully pick up another KO with your speedy Sneasler. Hell, if the Calyrex-Ice comes in, you might want to double into that slot to get rid of it before it can start stacking boosts!

However, there is still a source of inconsistency in the form of a critical hit. Critical hits deal 50% more damage and happens at a 1/24 chance (starting generation 7). Assuming Shuca Berry with a critical? Even the Sneasler might not be strong enough to tank the Earth Power, with both the Choice Specs boost and Glaceon's high base Special Attack.

But back again to WHB. So, what about this risk vs reward concept in terms of Paimon? Well, based on what we're seeing in the trailer, I don't think the risk of his attacks missing is worth the reward of his utility.

Several things to note. First of all, his regular attacks don't seem to inflict any sort of ailment. His slow seems to be only on skill proc, and unless my eyes deceived me then the damage instance on the skill also missed. Thankfully, the slow is still inflicted on the opponent, but...man. Too many of Paimon's attacks missed (misses were a majority!) - and those that hit aren't even as strong as other units like Eligos (192 damage/hit) and Satan (166 damage/hit). The Pokémon equivalent of this is having Hustle (increases Attack by 50% for a 20% drop in accuracy for Physical attacks), but even then Paimon's accuracy is arguably much worse.

Why would you use Paimon if you have much more consistent DPS options, and if you don't find his slow particularly useful or impactful? As far as DPS goes, he's outpaced by everyone else, at 115 damage/hit. A slot that you could've used for another, more impactful unit, is used on a unit that doesn't seem to be bringing that much value into the team.

Perhaps there may be fringe cases where his kit is useful. Or there's a chance his current level as shown on the trailer presents him not at his full potential. Maybe down the line Paimon's archetype might be more usable as the game evolves, too! But as we see him right now, he isn't quite worth the opportunity cost of having another, more impactful unit on the squad, assuming you have alternatives.

Actually, let's talk about opportunity cost. It's a concept that talks about what opportunities are lost when not taking a specific option. Any character, any build, any strategy - basically anything I don't use represents an opportunity cost.

As an example, let's take a look at my current Regieleki build.

With Regieleki's stat spread and moveset, there are several main "modes" this Pokémon can run. It can utilize its speed for a full support build, with the ability to set up Reflect (increases party Defense for 5 turns) and Light Screen (increases party Special Defense for 5 turns) before its opponents while still having a speed control option with Electroweb (hits both enemies in a double battle, weak damage while dropping enemy speed). It can also utilize its Transistor ability to function as a speedy special sweeper, running stronger Electric moves like Thunderbolt (base power 95 with 100 accuracy) or Thunder (base power 110 with 85 accuracy, 100 accuracy in rain). The held items and specific stat builds will differ depending on the mode - support Regieleki would run an HP boosting nature to help with its bulk somewhat, while the special sweeper build would run a Special Attack boosting nature, for example.

Both builds are good, but we're playing a hard romhack here. Realistically I can only bring one Regieleki, because having more than one means I'll be gimping my team in terms of type coverage and resistances. And even then there are other support units that might be worth looking into - an example being the standard Grimmsnarl support build with the Prankster ability (status moves gain +1 priority, helping them proc first, but doesn't affect Dark type Pokémon) and the aforementioned Light Clay, running Reflect and Light Screen (both moves increasing the duration to 8 turns as well due to the Light Clay and are also affected by Prankster) but also bringing additional utility in Spirit Break (damage on a single enemy while reducing their Special Attack) and Parting Shot (reduces a foe's attacking stats and makes Grimmsnarl switch out, also affected by Prankster). Me bringing a support Regieleki as my choice of support means I'll be losing out on both the utility of the special sweeper Regieleki build and the Prankster Grimmsnarl, among other things. They become the opportunity cost of bringing the support Regieleki.

My train of thought, therefore, boils down to this: which option would lead to more consistency and a much easier time in the Elite Four, considering the fact that all the Elite Four members in Radical Red have two potential teams? This will require more theorycrafting, as well as building a team suited for both situations to not get blindsided by any team. I personally am thinking of bringing the support Regieleki build, and I will have to build the rest of my team to capitalize off that - including potentially changing that Volt Switch to Protect.

The same concept applies when selecting your team for a tower defense stage. WHB places a limit of 6 units on the field, and your team composition must be good enough to deal with the enemies with your limited deployment slots. If you let a unit go down, you'll be down one member for the entirety of the stage. In the same vein, if a member doesn't seem to be doing much in your composition, then you'd more than likely consider changing them for another member who can support your current composition better.

All so you can have a consistent composition to clear a stage.

So, I guess why the miss indication in particular is so much of a dealbreaker for me is the utter inconsistency it brings to the table. As much as possible, I don't want to rely on a coin flip to determine if my party lives or dies. Some challenge due to inconsistency is fine - the entire concept of critical hits in Pokemon makes things just that more challenging and thrilling, especially because you can play around the critical hits due to it not having such a large chance overall (and those that do are usually guaranteed critical hits anyways, so you're already looking for contingency plans for those).

This is why I feel having a miss chance as large as Paimon for a character like him is such a bad idea. It doesn't capitalize on risk vs reward well, and in the long run he might just end up being not that good of a character.

And, well...

A challenge based solely on inconsistencies and such huge RNG factors simply isn't a fun or fair challenge at all.

[technikki]

ohhhhh emma and ray and don and gilda. dooo you even care

[rachymarie]

We need laws in NZ protecting us from getting those pesky marketing emails we didn't consent to: marketing list, cart reminder, whatever other bullshit they can think of. It's not "converting the sale", it's just turning me into the Incredibly Angry Hulk lol.

And often there is no way to unsubscribe. Grr.

Might do that thing that was suggested in a YouTube video once and make a rule to send all emails that say unsubscribe to a separate folder to be dealt with when spoons.

I even got this super creepy one from a site saying they saw I was browsing and am I still interested in X + Y item - i got the major ick + basically vowed never to buy from them again lol. Plus they cost too much for quality control worse than dropshippers/AliExpress etc.

[apocalypticdemon]

hey. hey. doordash ad that keeps playing the video at the top of my mobile app even after I scroll away. die one thousand deaths

[cesium-sheep]

I've always bounced back so quickly as soon as I get even the slightest bit of breathing room. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that it seems to be happening again.

I was talking to matt earlier and like. I'd be happy at 50%, that's an entirely acceptable long-term quality of life for me. (I've been below 5% all year.) but I suppose I don't have to limit myself to only 50% if I'm responding so well that it seems I might get further without significant additional cost (personal or financial).

[vunblr]

The Weight of Choices

Pairing: Ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex, dirty talk. A little angst.

Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.

Word Count: About 8.9k.

He was late. If Y/n didn’t know better, she’d think he was doing it on purpose. Bucky had agreed to watch their son tonight so she could go on a date, the third one since their divorce two years ago. The last couple of times, she’d managed to find a friend to babysit, but Saturday nights were always tough. So in the end, she had no choice but to come clean and ask Bucky.

She could still hear his voice from that awkward phone call, his tone edged with surprise when she’d told him she had plans.

“A date?” he repeated, the edge of disbelief was hard to miss.

"Yeah," she’d replied casually, but Bucky’s silence lingered longer than usual. He hated texting, so phone calls had become their norm, even for the smallest of things.

“With who?” His attempt to sound nonchalant fell flat, the tension was evident, threading through every word.

“Chris,” she said, keeping her tone light, “You know, the music teacher at the kindergarten where I work? Blonde, easy smile... we walked past him once when he was out with his dog, Dodger.”

Bucky scoffed, the bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “I knew it. I knew he had a thing for you.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Oh, please.”

“Every time I’d drop by the kindergarten, he’d just… linger. His eyes followed you the whole time like he couldn’t look away. People don’t stare like that unless they’re thinking something. And the way he’d smile, all soft and attentive, he was trying too hard to be just a ‘friendly co-worker.” His voice had dropped a notch, as his irritation crept in.

“Are you serious?” she shot back, incredulous. But Bucky wasn’t done.

“How long’s this been going on?” The question came out more like an accusation.

“It’s our first date. You know I only recently started dating again,” she replied, her patience wearing thin.

He paused, clearly unsatisfied. “So what, he’s just been waiting for his chance, ready to pounce-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, James,” she interrupted firmly. “You’re not entitled to know anything about my love life the moment you decided you wanted the divorce.”

There was an uncomfortable silence on the line. She could hear him breathing, and the tension stretched between them, until finally, he sighed.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I’ll take care of Benjamin on Saturday night.”

The recall of the conversation was interrupted by Ben, who wanted to show her what he did with his Legos.

Bucky had been sitting in front of the house for half an hour now. Sometimes, like tonight, he regretted what he’d done, but deep down, he knew it had been necessary. After the terrifying incident when Hydra agents attempted to kidnap their son, hoping to test if any of the serum’s powers had been passed down genetically, he realized that his past would eventually catch up with them. He had to make sure they were safe, even if it meant tearing apart everything they’d built.

He knew she wouldn’t understand if he told her the truth. If he had laid out his fears and his guilt and spiraled into a self-deprecating parade like he always did, she would have fought him and convinced him to stay. So he waited.

He knew the only way to make her believe it, was to weave in just enough truth to his argument, so, slowly he began pulling away, setting the stage for what would be his ultimate break. Late nights, distant conversations, an almost non-existent sexual life and missed moments with their son, all led to this. He needed her to see that the life they had wasn’t something he could carry anymore.

When the moment came, he didn’t hesitate. He told her he felt suffocated by their life together. That the roles of husband and father were more than he could bear after everything he had been through. She didn’t believe him at first, and he could see the determination in her eyes, the will to fight for what they had.

So, he played the card he knew would make her stop fighting him. He spoke of the years he’d spent as a puppet, how he had never truly known freedom, never had control over his life. He appreciated everything she had done for him, all the love and support she had given, but it wasn’t enough. He needed air, space to figure out who he was beyond the roles he had been forced into. He made it sound like staying with her, staying in the family they’d built, was just another form of captivity.

It crushed her. Bucky could see the moment her resistance faded. She believed him, not because she wanted to, but because he made it seem so real. So she stood there, heartbroken, but unable to argue against the logic he’d presented.

The first months after the divorce were hard on both parts. For her, that time was the hardest, filled with sleepless nights and the nagging feeling that Bucky had simply abandoned her, walked away from their life, their love, without a second thought. She wrestled with the confusion and the heartbreak, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. For Bucky, it was a different kind of suffering. He bore the weight of his decision in silence, knowing he had walked away to protect them, but that didn’t ease the sting of loneliness or the guilt that clawed at him.

Their lives moved on separately. They saw each other only in passing, and even that was rare. Bucky would pick up Benjamin directly from daycare once a week, dropping him off the next morning before heading back to his life, careful to avoid lingering long enough for awkward conversations. Sometimes he didn’t make it at all, missing his time with his son when missions pulled him away. Immersing himself in his work was easier than facing what he had left behind, the family he still wanted but couldn’t allow himself to have. Meanwhile, she did her best to create some normalcy for Benjamin, even as the space Bucky left behind echoed through their small home.

Even though their lives had drifted apart, Bucky never truly let go. He kept his distance, but never far enough to lose sight of them. Unbeknownst to her, he knew everything that went on in the household, the daily rhythms of their life, the way she struggled and adapted to her new normal without him. From the shadows, Bucky lurked unnoticed in the neighborhood, always keeping an eye on them. She never noticed, never had a clue that even when he was away on missions, he somehow knew when Benjamin caught a cold or when she had a rough day at work.

It was a secret vigil that gave him a twisted sense of comfort, knowing they were safe even if they no longer shared the same home. He would catch fleeting glimpses of her tucking their son into bed or hear his faint laughter playing in the yard. It was enough to remind him of what he’d lost, but not enough to bring him back to the life he believed he couldn’t have.

That was why Bucky was caught off guard when she mentioned her date with that guy, the music teacher. He never saw that coming. He had always known the man had a soft spot for her, could see it in the way he acted whenever she was around, how he lingered a little longer during pick-ups at the kindergarten, helping to manage the children even if it wasn’t his job, always with an excuse to retain her and talk. His body language was an open book. But back then, Bucky had dismissed him as harmless, barely giving him a second thought. To him, Chris had always been like a friendly Labrador: approachable, with no bite. A non-threat.

But now, that harmless Labrador had grown fangs. The guy wasn’t just hanging around the edges anymore; he was stepping in, taking her to dinner, moving into a space Bucky had once occupied. And he had no choice but to suck it up and watch it happen, watch her walk out the door with him. He could handle the distance, the brief moments of tension when they had to interact, but this? The idea of Chris sitting across from her at a candlelit table, making her laugh, holding her gaze... it twisted his guts.

And God knows what else would happen after dinner. Would Chris try to kiss her goodnight? Would she let him? Or worse, would they end up back at his place? His mind ran wild with the possibility of them taking things further, crossing a line he never wanted to imagine. Would she let him touch her in ways Bucky used to, let him see sides of her only he had known? He knew he had no right to feel this way, but it didn’t stop the thoughts from torturing him.

Eventually, he glanced at the clock and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. There was no point in torturing himself any further, he couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer.

Reaching the front porch, Bucky hesitated for a moment. He straightened his posture adjusting his clothes, then knocked on the door. As he waited, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to shake off the tension.

When the door finally swung open, for a split second, neither of them spoke. Her eyes widened just a little, her lips parting as she took him in. It had been a long time since she’d seen him. His hair had grown back to shoulder length, a few strands falling loose across his forehead. A three-day stubble sharpened his jawline, in a way that made him look rugged and effortlessly handsome. And was he wearing that shirt? The red and black lumberjack one that used to drive her wild?

Bucky caught her reaction and hit him like a shot of adrenaline. When he exited the bathroom that night and picked what to wear, he told himself it was just practical, something comfortable to wear while watching and playing with Ben. The cologne? Just a habit. But deep down, a part of him knew the truth: he wanted her to notice, and that split-second when her eyes widened, scanning him from head to toe, told him everything. She noticed. She definitely noticed. And something about that felt like a victory, even though he wasn’t supposed to be playing that game anymore.

He stared at her longer than necessary, his blue gaze drifting over the black dress she wore. New, he realized. It hugged her body in all the right places, accentuating her curves in a way that was impossible to ignore. The hemline? Too short for his liking. He clenched his jaw slightly, knowing full well Chris would be thrilled to see her like this.

Forcing himself to snap out of it, Bucky cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Hey,” he said, low and calm, though the tension still simmered beneath the surface. “You look... good.” He meant it, but the words tasted bitter.

"Thanks," she said, politely but distant, deliberately choosing not to compliment him back. She lingered for a moment, then added, “You’re late.”

Bucky flinched inwardly at the remark, though he kept his expression neutral. "Traffic," he muttered, stepping inside as she moved aside to let him in. An awkward silence settled between them, the air thick with things left unsaid.

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her dress as she cleared her throat, trying to fill the silence. “Ben is in the bathroom,” she said, casually, but there was a tension beneath it. “You can wait for him in the living room.”

“Right,” Bucky replied, nodding stiffly. He walked past her and into the living room, the space feeling both familiar and foreign at the same time. He took a seat, trying to shake off the strange energy between them, but his mind kept wandering back to the fact that she was dressed for someone else.

A moment later, the doorbell rang, and she turned toward the sound, visibly relieved. She opened the door, and Bucky heard Chris’s voice, a cheerful greeting that she surely responded to with a soft, warm smile. Bucky didn’t need to see it, her tone was different with him, softer, more open.

“Hey,” Chris said with bright tone, though there was a subtle shift when he paused. There was a beat of silence before he added, “You look amazing.”

Bucky couldn’t help it. Something pulled him from the couch, and before he knew it, he was standing in the hall, watching the interaction from a few feet away. His eyes narrowed as he observed Chris, sizing him up instinctively. Chris was taller than he remembered, clean-cut in a casual but neat button-down shirt, his easy smile faltering just a fraction when his eyes darted past her, catching sight of Bucky standing there.

Chris’s brows furrowed, but he quickly masked his reaction, giving Bucky a curt nod. “Uh, hey,” he greeted awkwardly, glancing between them.

It was her turn to narrow her eyes. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw him. Bucky stood at the edge of the hallway, staring directly at Chris, his expression unreadable. His eyes locked onto the man without blinking. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t saying anything, just staring.

Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. Really? A display of male dominance, here and now? After everything he’d put her through, the mess he’d made of their lives, he suddenly decided he had the right to act territorial? What exactly did he think he was entitled to? The nerve of it sent a wave of irritation through her, tightening her grip on her coat.

But what frustrated her even more -what really troubled her- was that a part of her didn’t mind. Beneath her annoyance, something stirred, deep and undeniable, lurking just beneath the surface. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but his presence still had a hold on her. Maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she wanted to believe. Maybe, despite everything, there was still a part of her that reacted to him, to the way he watched her, the way he used to make her feel like the center of his world.

Before those feelings could rise any further, before she could let herself dwell on what they meant, she quickly turned back to Chris. She forced a bright smile, pushing away the conflicted thoughts swirling in her mind.

“We should get going,” she said, pretending not to notice the tension still hanging in the air. She stepped closer to Chris, signaling it was time to leave, hoping to put some distance between her and the weight of Bucky’s gaze.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Bucky stood frozen in place for a moment, the tension that had gripped him not easing, even with their absence. The quiet of the house felt heavier now, pressing down on him. His chest tightened as he stared at the closed door, half-expecting her to walk back in. Of course, she didn’t.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he replayed the scene in his head: her standing there, beautiful and confident, and Chris… that guy was so normal, so easygoing. Exactly what she deserved. Exactly what Bucky could never be. He raked a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. What was he even doing? He had no right, he was the one who walked away. He was the one who made her believe she wasn’t enough to keep him, that he wanted out. And now, here he was, silently raging because she was moving on, exactly like he supposedly wanted.

Stupid. That was the only word he could come up with to describe how he felt. Stupid for showing up looking the way he did, stupid for thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could still affect her. But what for? His job was to protect her and their son from the shadows, not to stand in the doorway, playing the part of some jealous lover. But God, it hurt more than he expected.

He crossed the living room, his steps heavy against the floor, and slumped into the couch. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint sound of the TV in the background. Ben was still in the bathroom, probably playing with the liquid soap and making a mess, unaware of the tangled web of emotions his father was caught in.

The hours slipped by, though Bucky barely noticed at first. Benjamin was beyond excited to have his dad all to himself for the evening. They played, joked, and built elaborate lego fortresses, the boy’s laughter filling the house with a warmth Bucky hadn’t realized he missed so much. For a little while, he was able to shove everything else to the back of his mind. Being a dad, just a dad, felt like a relief. But every now and then, his gaze would drift to the clock on the wall. He couldn’t help it. As much as he tried to stay in the moment with his son, there was a lingering pull, a constant, nagging thought of where she was.

After he’d put Ben to bed, Bucky’s mind wandered back to the date. The image of her in that black dress haunted him, the way Chris had looked at her, the possibility of what might have happened after dinner. His thoughts spiraled, even though he knew it was none of his business anymore. He poured himself a scotch, the amber liquid swirling in his glass as he tried -and failed- to push the thoughts aside.

Eventually, the sound of the front door opening cut through the quiet. The familiar click of her shoes against the entryway tile echoed through the house, sharp and distinct. She was home.

Bucky didn’t move. He stayed where he was, seated at the old teakwood table, nursing his scotch. The only light on in the house was the dim glow above the kitchen, so she’d find him.

The sound of her footsteps grew closer, and he listened intently, his heart beating just a little faster despite his best efforts to keep calm.

She entered the kitchen, her steps a little less steady than usual, mumbling a soft “Hi” as she made her way inside. Bucky glanced up, immediately sensing that she was a little tipsy. She didn’t meet his eyes, just plopped down in the chair next to him with a tired sigh. “God, my feet are killing me,” she muttered, kicking off her heels and wincing.

For a while, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of the fridge. She sighed absentmindedly, then reached for his glass of scotch, taking a sip without asking. He was taken aback by the casual intimacy of the gesture, but he said nothing, just watched her as she leaned back in her chair.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “Want me to rub your feet?” He froze. He couldn’t believe he’d said it, half-expecting her to snap at him or give him one of her sharp retorts.

But instead, she surprised him. She looked over at him, her eyes tired but soft, and then shrugged. “Yeah...” she said, a little more relaxed than he expected.

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by her response. His heart thudded against his ribcage as he moved toward her, kneeling down in front of her chair. His fingers hovered hesitantly over her ankle before gently wrapping around it, lifting her foot onto his knee.

As he began to knead his thumbs into her sore muscles, the tension that had been brewing in him all night seemed to ease, just a little. Her head lolled back against the chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this, touching her again in this way, after everything. He shouldn’t, but she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to relax more as the seconds passed, letting her guard down in a way that felt dangerously familiar.

“So... how was the date?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost too casual as he broke the silence.

Her eyes fluttered open at the question, and for a moment, he thought she might brush him off or remind him that it wasn’t his business. But instead, she gave a small shrug, her tone indifferent. “It was fine.”

Bucky frowned slightly, pressing his thumbs a little harder into the arch of her foot. He wasn’t sure if it was frustration or something else pushing his hands. “Fine?” he echoed, trying to keep his voice even.

“Yeah,” she murmured, closing her eyes. Her voice was soft, almost distracted. “Just... fine.”

He wasn’t satisfied with that. He couldn’t help himself, he pressed, his tone still light but with a thread of tension beneath it. “Only... fine?”

She sighed, her eyes still closed as if trying to keep the conversation from getting deeper. “What do you want me to say, Bucky?” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but there was a subtle edge in her words. “That it was amazing? That he swept me off my feet? Some dirty little details?”

Bucky’s fingers stilled for a moment, resting against her foot as he met her gaze. He didn’t respond right away, unsure if he even wanted to hear the truth, whatever it might be. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice a little more vulnerable than he intended.

“It was just fine, nothing more, nothing less”

A silence settled between them, but he wasn’t ready to let it drop. “Are you going to see each other again outside work?” he ventured, his hands slowly moving up her shin, his touch hesitant but growing bolder. The fact that she didn’t push him away emboldened him further. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Bucky’s hands continued their slow ascent, fingers brushing over her calf and then her knee, his touch firm but careful. When she didn’t pull away, he felt his pulse quicken. The silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of things unsaid.

“In a way,” she finally answered, her voice elusive, a touch distant. She shifted slightly in her chair, subtly parting her thighs as his hands wandered higher. The movement was small, but enough for him to catch it. His breath hitched, and his gaze flicked down to her legs before rising back up to her face, darkening with lust.

"Care to... elaborate?" he pressed again, his voice lower now, rougher. His fingers slid up to her inner thigh, lingering there with a possessive grip as if testing her reaction. Her legs instinctively spread wider beneath his touch, and that simple motion sent a rush of heat through him.

She shifted slightly, as if searching for the right words. "He’s... nice," she finally said, a bit breathless under his touch. "He’s thoughtful, considerate, makes me laugh…” Her lips twitched in a small smile, but it quickly faded as she looked down at his hand resting on her thigh. “He’s... good.”

Bucky’s thumb paused, pressing a little harder, as he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a murmur. “…And?”

She sighed, her eyes opening again to meet his intense gaze. “And… he’s not you.”

His grip on her thigh tightened involuntarily, his breath catching in his throat. He’d pushed her away, done everything he could to sever the ties between them, convinced himself it was for her protection. But now, hearing her admit that, it sent his head spinning.

“He’s not you.”

The room seemed smaller, the air heavier, as the tension between them crackled like electricity. His hand inched higher, dangerously close to where he could feel the heat radiating off her body. Every instinct in him screamed to close the distance, to take what he wanted, to forget everything that had led them to this point. But he forced himself to stop, his gaze locking onto hers, searching her face for any sign that she would tell him to stop.

She didn’t. Instead, she held his gaze, her breathing shallow as if waiting to see what he would do next.

Bucky’s grip tightened again. Fuck it. He leaned forward, pressing his face against her other inner thigh, his stubble grazing her skin as he inhaled her scent deeply, a growl rumbling in his chest. She tensed, feeling him nip gently at her sensitive flesh, and then a slow, deliberate lick followed, sending a shiver through her.

"Did he behave, or..." he paused, his tongue teasing the same spot before he looked up at her, his lips brushing her thigh as he continued, "...things got handsy?"

A gasp escaped her when she felt his mouth so dangerously close to where she wanted it most. Her head tilted back just slightly, her body betraying her as desire pooled in her belly. His eyes flicked up, meeting hers, their blue depths darkened with lust, and something more. His lips remained pressed against her skin, refusing to budge until he had his answer.

"You let him touch you?" His voice was a husky whisper, laced with jealousy.

She exhaled slowly, her breath shaky as the memory flickered through her mind. "Yes," she admitted, her voice low, reluctant. "But just briefly, when we ki—"

Before she could finish, Bucky’s hand shifted, moving up to cup her mound, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp fabric of her underwear. Her words died in her throat, a sharp intake of breath replacing them as his touch ignited a fire that spread through her veins. His hand was deliberate, unapologetic in the way it claimed her, the heel of his palm pressing against her pussy as if he had every right to be there.

"And then?" His question hung in the air, but she couldn’t find the words immediately.

Her lips parted as she finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I wanted to feel something... but I didn’t. I just didn’t."

Her confession landed between them like a spark to dry wood, setting the tension ablaze. Bucky’s hand remained where it was, but his thumb stroked over the wet fabric, teasing her, testing her resolve as his gaze bore into hers. She had said what he needed to hear, what he craved to know, and now, there was no turning back.

Bucky’s thumb slid the fabric of her underwear aside, his fingers unhesitating as they slipped between her folds, finding her slick with need. He brushed upward, just barely grazing her clit, watching with dark, heavy-lidded eyes as she gasped at the contact. Her body arched involuntarily, but he didn’t relent, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, teasing her just enough to drive her crazy but not enough to give her what she craved.

“And…” he murmured, rasping against the tension rising between them, “how long did it take you to realize you’d had enough? That it wasn’t going to work?”

His thumb circled lazily, making her hips shift forward, chasing the friction he barely offered. The question hung in the air, laced with his possessiveness, through every word. He didn’t wait for an answer, his fingers delving deeper inside her, coating themselves in her arousal before they moved back up, brushing over her clit again, this time with more pressure.

"One kiss?" His lips curled in a half-smirk as he watched her face contort with pleasure. He dipped his fingers inside her again, slow, dragging them out just as leisurely. "Two?"

She trembled, unable to form a coherent response, the sensation of his touch overwhelming her senses after so long. Her breath hitched as his fingers increased their pace, every stroke purposeful, designed to unravel her. Bucky leaned upward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, “How long, doll?” The way he said it, like a dare, made her heart race even faster.

Her head fell back, her body betraying any attempt at control as she whispered breathlessly, “One…”

A satisfied growl rumbled from him, his fingers rewarding her honesty with a firmer stroke, sending her spiraling closer to the edge.

It wasn’t fair. He had cast her aside, almost without looking back, tearing her world apart with his cold departure. And now here she was, grinding her pussy against his fingers like some desperate, needy whore, begging for more. A part of her wanted to slap him, to shove him away and scream at him for every sleepless night she spent wondering why she wasn’t enough, why he had thrown their life away so easily. She wanted to tell him how much she hated him for walking out on them.

But then, there was that traitorous side of her. The part that had never stopped hoping. The part that had always waited, held out some foolish, silent hope that he’d come back. That she’d see that flicker of warmth in his eyes again, the one that told her she was his entire world. And it wasn’t just her heart that longed for him, her body had missed him, too. She hated herself for it. For still thinking about him late at night when she touched herself, fingers slipping between her thighs as his name slipped from her lips in the darkness.

And that same traitorous side of her had ruined her date with Chris. She’d tried to be present, to laugh, to be charmed by his warm smile and thoughtful gestures. But all night, all she could think about was Bucky.

The way he’d looked at him, cold and assessing, as if he didn’t belong there, his presence filling the hallway like he still had some claim to it, to her. What was he trying to prove, anyway? That he was still the man of the house?

She hated how, even while Chris was talking, her mind drifted back to the feeling of Bucky’s fingers tracing his stupid shirt, her memory filling in the rough, familiar feel of his hands on her skin. And she knew, even if she couldn’t admit it aloud, that some part of her had wanted him to see her dressed up, to feel in some small way the longing and ache she’d carried in his absence.

And maybe that’s why she’d felt nothing when Chris had leaned in for a kiss, why his gentle smile and soft touches had felt hollow. Even his laugh, light and kind, hadn’t stirred her because it wasn't Bucky’s rough, rumbling chuckle or his stupidly confident grin. Bucky, in all his infuriating ways, still occupied every corner of her mind.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his fingers worked her closer to the edge. She wanted to be angry, to let that rage consume her, but every time she opened her mouth to say something hurtful, to lash out at him, her body betrayed her. Every roll of her hips against his hand, every needy whimper that slipped from her throat, reminded her of just how much she had missed this.

It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t stop.

With a light pinch on her swollen clit, the tension snapped, and she came hard on his fingers. Her mouth fell open, a moan escaping as her body convulsed, riding the wave of pleasure that coursed through her. The world blurred around her as her climax took over, her hips grinding against his hand, chasing every last second of the release.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a mix of the overwhelming pleasure and the emotional storm swirling inside her. A few finally escaped, rolling silently down her cheeks, but before she could turn away, Bucky was there, his lips brushing them away with surprising tenderness. His breath ghosted over her skin as he whispered soft, comforting words she could barely make out, something about how beautiful she was, how good she had been for him, as if they hadn’t been tangled up in all this pain and heartache.

His touch was almost reverent as he slowly withdrew his fingers, slick and glistening from her release. Their gazes met, and he didn’t break eye contact as he brought those same fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate, agonizing slowness. He stood up in one fluid motion, effortlessly lifting her from the chair by the waist as if she weighed nothing, and in a swift, controlled movement, he placed her on top of the table, positioning himself between her legs.

Before she could even process it, his arms were around her, pulling her into a bear hug that was both tight and needy. His face buried itself in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin as he inhaled deeply, taking her in.

He held her as if letting go was not an option, his grip firm yet strangely vulnerable. The way he clung to her felt like both a claim and an apology, urgent -almost broken- like he was holding onto her not just physically, but emotionally, too.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough and low, against her neck. He didn’t dare look at her, not yet, because if he did, if he saw doubt or rejection in her eyes, it would break him.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Each second felt like an eternity. His breath was uneven, ragged, as he waited for her to say something, anything. Another moment passed, tension coiling tighter in his chest until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He lifted his head, his gaze searching hers, bracing himself for the worst. But instead of the words that would send him away, he saw her eyes flicker downward to his lips. It was brief, a split-second decision, but it was enough.

So he leaned in, cautiously at first, like he was testing the waters after years of distance. His lips brushed against hers softly, almost hesitant, as if afraid this fragile moment would break apart. But the second she responded, it was like a dam broke. His hands cradled her face, deepening the kiss with desperation. It was messy, all-consuming, there was no gentleness, no tenderness. This was not the careful, delicate dance of two people testing the waters. This was hunger, a ravenous need to reclaim what had been lost. His lips moved down to her jaw, her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, and she moaned softly, her fingers tightening in his hair as he sucked on the sensitive skin below her ear.

His hands gripped her waist, strong and possessive, pulling her closer until her body was flush against his. The need to feel her, to claim her, was overwhelming. It was like two years of silence, longing, and frustration had ignited in an instant, everything that had been pushed down now surging forward, unstoppable.

“I’ll ask you again, babydoll. Are you sure you want this?” Bucky’s voice was thick with restraint, the tension in his muscles barely contained as he hovered over her, his breath hot against her neck. He was giving her one last chance to stop this, to pull away, even though every fiber of his being was screaming for her. But instead of words, her answer was a quiet, deliberate motion. Her hand slid between them, deftly unbuttoning his jeans, her fingers brushing against the outline of his erection.

A low growl escaped him, and his hand shot down to catch her wrist, halting her movements. His gaze met hers, dark and intense, his chest heaving with barely restrained desire. “I need you to say it,” he murmured, voice rough, on the edge of control.

“Yes,” she whispered.

That was all he needed.

Without hesitation, he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion, not bothering with the buttons, his muscles flexing as the fabric slid off. The moment his skin was free, he didn’t give himself time to think. His eyes locked on hers as he grabbed the neckline of her dress. With a sharp tug, the fabric tore easily under his grip, the sound of it ripping filling the air. The dress fell to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze.

“Hey! It was brand new, you know?” she protested.

“I noticed,” he replied, his fingers grazing the tattered edge of her dress. “But you didn’t buy it to wear it for me, did you?” His voice dropped, thick with jealousy as he alluded to her date with Chris. He dipped his head, his lips hovering just above her exposed skin, his breath warm against her chest. “I don’t want it on you”. He latched his lips onto her nipple, his tongue swirling with a hungry need, while his vibranium fingers pinched and teased her other breast. His breath was hot against her chest as he whispered between kisses, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this... missed you.” His words came out rough, full of longing that he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Every night... thinking about touching you again. Tasting you. Making you come over my cock.”

Her body responded, arching into him. She bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan, afraid that maybe Ben could hear her, but it slipped out anyway.

His hands moved to her thighs, gripping them firmly as he let out a low growl. “I thought about this, over and over... how you’d feel under me, how you’d sound when I made you scream my name again.” His voice was thick, hoarse, as he tugged at her dress, tearing the fabric completely until it was nothing but rags on the floor. He didn’t stop there, his thumbs slipping under the waistband of her flimsy panties. With a swift tug, the seams gave way, tearing effortlessly in his hands. He brought the soaked cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply, groaning as if the scent alone was enough to drive him insane. “God, I’ve missed this,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving hers. He flicked his tongue against the ruined cloth, savoring the taste with a low, hungry growl.

Without warning, he tossed the panties aside. His hands moved quickly, unbuttoning what remained of his jeans and kicking off his shoes before sliding the denim and underwear down in one fluid motion. They hit the floor with a soft thud as he stepped toward her. “Tell me how much you missed me,” he demanded softly.

She stared at him, drinking him in. He looked leaner, his body sculpted in sharp lines of muscle. He’d lost weight, surely by going mission after mission mixed with his poor eating habits. He was never good at taking care of himself. She almost missed the small paunch he used to have these last years, the one he hated, but she’d loved to bite. There was something comforting about that softness, but now he was the embodiment of raw strength.

Her gaze drifted lower, lingering on the sight of his cock, standing at full attention. She swallowed. Apparently, her memories failed to measure up to reality. He was big, sure, she’d always known that, but this big? Her core tightened with need, clenching in raw anticipation.

"I missed you,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, laced with longing as her eyes lifted to meet his. “So much… you have no idea. God, you’ve ruined me.”

Her words shattered whatever restraint he had left. He’d imagined, countless times, that if this moment ever came, he’d take his time, savor her, and make it last. But now, faced with her beneath him, so close and so ready, patience was a luxury he no longer possessed.

Without a second thought, he gripped her thighs and spread her wide on the table, lining himself up as he dragged the head of his cock along her entrance, coating himself in her slick heat. In a swift, desperate thrust, he drove into her, hard and deep, filling her completely as a ragged groan escaped his lips.

She cried out, her body responding immediately, arching into him as he slammed into her again. His hands gripped her hips with bruising force, and his own moved in a relentless rhythm, every thrust driving him deeper. He couldn’t stop. Her moans spurred him on, her words circling in his head like a drug.

“Ruined you, huh?” His breath was ragged as he pulled almost all the way out, teasing her with the loss, before slamming back in. “Let me remind you how much.” With a raw hunger that had been bottled up far too long, Bucky's thrusts became brutal, each one driving her back along the table, her nails scraping against the wood as he took her over and over. The grip on her hips was iron-hard, pinning her down so she could do nothing but take everything he gave her. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “Think anyone else could ever do this?” he murmured, his voice dark and rough, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. His lips ghosted along her jaw, and he pushed her to answer, knowing the effect he was having on her. “Tell me,” he demanded softly “Could anyone else make you feel like this?” He wanted her to say it, to make her admit that no one else would ever satisfy her the way he could.

She whimpered, clutching at his shoulders as he pounded into her, her nails digging into his skin as he pushed her higher and higher. “No… no one else.” Her words were broken, barely audible over her moans, but it was all he needed to hear.

“That’s right” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough, “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he breathed, each word laced with raw possession as he thrust deeper. “Only me,” he rasped. “Only I get to make you feel this way.”

He growled, one hand leaving her hip to slide between them, his fingers pressing down on her clit in quick, merciless circles. “This is mine,” he hissed, metal fingers working just enough to bring her close before pulling away, only to return just as she thought she couldn’t take any more.

She cried out, her body writhing beneath him as he drove her to the edge. His pace never faltered, his hips grinding against hers with a relentless rhythm, and his grip on her only tightened as she arched off the table, his name spilling from her lips like a prayer.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice thick with lust and something darker, something possessive. His hands slid down the back of her thighs, pushing her legs up against her torso as he plunged deeper, she could barely breathe every time he bottomed out. The way he hit her, the pressure at her cervix, sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through her, each one making her mewl helplessly. Her thighs shook against his chest, her hands desperately clutching at his forearms, fingers digging into his skin.

He leaned in closer again, his face inches from hers, his lips brushing her ears as he growled, “Tell me you’re mine.”

"I’m yours… fuck, Bucky!" she complied, her voice breaking between her panting breaths.

"Again," he ordered, his hips slamming into hers, the table creaking under the force of his movements. He could feel her walls clenching around him, so tight, so wet, he almost lost control then and there.

“I’m yours,” she whimpered again, her voice shaky, breathless.

“Chris will be so disappointed to hear that” he growled. “Let’s make sure you stay ruined, just in case.” He was relentless now, fucking her hard, deep, his body pressing hers further into the table as he pushed her thighs harder against her body giving him even better access, hitting that sensitive spot that left her gasping, his grip and the relentless pace leaving no room for anything but the sensation of him filling her completely, over and over.

She whimpered in response, too overwhelmed to speak, her entire body tensing as the pleasure became almost unbearable. His thumb moved between them again pressing against her clit, rubbing circles that sent sparks of heat shooting through her. She gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as her orgasm built rapidly, her body teetering on the edge.

“Milk my cock.” he ordered, his voice harsh, primal. His words pushed her over the edge and then she was gone, her body shivering violently as she clenched around him, her thighs tightening around him as her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer. The sound of his name fell from her lips, half-whisper, half-cry as the climax gripped her, intense and all-consuming, leaving her a trembling, breathless mess.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled through gritted teeth, his hips snapping into hers with bruising force. “And then some more,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw need. “You won’t even be able to keep it all in, babydoll.”

With a final thrust, Bucky’s head fell back, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he reached his climax. His body trembled, muscles tensing as he spilled himself inside her, a heated wave of release filling her completely. He held her there, his cock kept pulsing until his release overflowed, warm and thick, beginning to trickle down, pooling beneath them.

Still buried inside her, Bucky loosened his grip on her thighs, hands sliding down to cradle her waist as he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against her shoulder. He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent, grounding himself as the heat of their union slowly ebbed, replaced by a quiet intimacy that neither of them seemed prepared for.

After a moment, he gently eased himself away, untangling their bodies but letting his hands linger at her hips, as though afraid to lose the connection. He took a step back, his gaze dropping for a moment before lifting to meet hers, hoping she’d break the silence but she didn’t look at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

Bucky’s chest tightened, a familiar pang surfacing as he watched her withdraw inward, her mind elsewhere despite the intimacy they’d just shared. Finally, she spoke, her voice low, tentative. “So… what now, Bucky?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I don’t… I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he forced himself to hold her gaze. “I know I shouldn’t have done this. Not after…” He hesitated, but the truth slipped out anyway. “Not after what I put you through.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding her expression, old wounds resurfacing. “Then why did you put me through this, Bucky?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with pain. “You said you couldn’t do this. That you needed space, that we were holding you back.” Her words hung heavy in the air, each one a quiet accusation tinged with vulnerability. “And now, you’re here, acting like…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “…acting like you never left.”

He hesitated, knowing this was his chance to finally tell her the truth or let her keep believing the lie he’d used to protect them. He rubbed a hand over his face, then lowered it, meeting her gaze with raw honesty. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I left because I was afraid that my past... everything I tried to bury might come back to hurt you. Hurt him.” His voice softened. “I thought if you believed I didn’t want this life, it would keep you safe.”

He glanced down, his hand twitching at his side before he looked up again, his voice hushed but resolute. "But… I want to come back,” he admitted, the words raw, like they’d been buried deep for too long. “To the house. To you, and Benjamin.”

A chill lingered in the air, and she wrapped her arms around herself, gaze flicking over their scattered clothes still strewn across the kitchen floor. She looked away, her shoulders tense as she rubbed her temples. "So, what’s changed, Bucky? The risks are still there, the same threats, the same fears..."

Bucky’s gaze didn’t waver, his hand reaching out as though to touch her, but he stopped short, fingers brushing the edge of the table instead. "What’s different is me. I’ve had time to face what I couldn’t before. Stepping aside didn’t keep you safer; it just kept me away. I don’t want Ben growing up with a dad who keeps him and his mom at arm’s length. Almost a stranger.” His voice softened, the vulnerability seeping through. “Being apart from you doesn’t make things better. I miss you, doll. I miss us.”

“You can’t just leave and come back like nothing happened, Bucky.” Her voice was softer this time, almost breaking. “I wanted you here… every day, every night. Not just for me, but for Benjamin.” Her voice trembled with raw vulnerability.

He took a step closer, his hand hovering near hers, unsure if she’d pull away. “I know, and I hate that I ever thought leaving was the answer.” His tone was low, his gaze steady on her.

She looked down, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, emotions tightening her expression. “If you come back, I need to know you’re here to stay,” she whispered, the words more for herself than for him. “Because I don’t think I can go through this again… and I won’t let him either.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her hands gripping the table harder as if to keep herself grounded.

Her words shattered the last remnants of his restraint. Without another thought, Bucky dropped to his knees in front of her, the hard tile digging into him as he pressed his forehead against her thigh. She sucked in a breath, her hand instinctively moving to his hair, fingers trembling as they brushed against him. He could feel her hesitation, the walls she’d built so carefully to guard herself from the ache he’d left behind.

“Say yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with the vulnerability he could no longer hide. “Say yes, doll. I know I don’t deserve it.” His hands gripped her hips, anchoring him as if she were the only thing keeping him steady. “But I swear,” His voice cracked, raw and pleading. “I swear, I’ll never walk away again. Not from you, not from Benjamin.”

She looked down, a mix of shock and pain written on her face as she saw him there, broken, open, begging her for something she’d once offered so freely. Her hand gently settled on his cheek, and he leaned into the warmth of her touch, feeling the softness of her fingers against the rough stubble of his jaw. The ache in her eyes nearly undid him, but he stayed there, his forehead still pressed to her thigh, his breath heavy, waiting.

Her eyes searched his, and slowly, her resolve began to waver, the smallest flicker of trust finding its way back into her gaze. "Then prove it," she whispered, barely trusting herself as her hand lingered against his cheek, the warmth of her palm seeping into him. "Show me you’re here to stay."

After her words hung in the air, a fragile silence between them, Bucky’s gaze dropped. He swallowed, his hand reaching for something inside the scattered clothes on the floor.

From his back pocket, he drew out a small, well-worn leather charm, a little star-shaped pendant, its edges smoothened from years of handling. She recognized it immediately. It was something she’d passed on to him when he left for his first mission after they married, a symbol she hoped would keep him safe. She thought it had been lost long ago, like so many pieces of them.

He held it out to her, and the look on his face was raw, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen since the early days. “I never stopped carrying this,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick. “Even when I tried to convince myself I was doing the right thing by staying away. I couldn’t let go of you…of us. I kept it close, hoping… hoping someday I could come back and give it back to you. I know it doesn’t make up for the time I lost, but…” His voice faltered, the sincerity there unmistakable.

She stared at the pendant, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out, fingers grazing the familiar leather. All the memories it held, the late-night goodbyes, the whispered promises, the hope she’d once tied to it, all of it rushed back, filling the space between them.

She looked down at him, seeing in his eyes the weight of the years, the regrets, but also the glimmer of the man she’d fallen in love with.

Taking a shaky breath, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “This… this was supposed to keep you safe, Bucky. Keep us safe.”

“And it did,” he replied softly, his hand covering hers over the charm. “It kept you here.” He paused, his voice barely a murmur. “And maybe now… it can bring me back home.”

The last of her defenses wavered, and she felt herself letting go of the anger, the hurt, all the pieces that had kept them apart. “Maybe… maybe it was always meant to guide you back here,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his with a warmth he hadn’t seen in years. “So if you’re really here to stay… then welcome home, Bucky.”

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[paper-mario-wiki]

what’s the point anymore?

you're allowed to give up any time you like, but if you do you have to acknowledge to yourself that everyone else has continued to keep going, and wonder to yourself why.

either everyone else is wrong about the state of things and their continued efforts are fools errands, OR it's just you who might need to spend some time readjusting your world view. ask yourself, are things actually over for you, or is the world as you know it just changing in a way that makes it feel like it's over because what qualifies as "the norm" has been forced to reshape itself? it can certainly be exhausting to try and keep up, so i wouldnt blame you for not knowing the difference right away.

perhaps the reason you feel like the apocalypse is happening only now is because it's been brought to your door for the first time in your life. you're not wrong to be scared, nor are you wrong to be tired. but you are wrong in thinking there's no point in trying, like in the grand scheme of history it's never been more over than it is in this moment. that's a very self-centered perspective to have.

there's no "correct" way to live life, which might be your main thing to learn. we've been led to believe that there is, because in mankind's addiction to efficiency we've created a self-perpetuating myth of "a life well lived"; something that is impossible to quantify, and impossible to replicate flawlessly. it mostly looked like going through school, getting a trade skill, going into the work force, making or perpetuating your family, and retiring on your own property. and now, because the channels that were once available to most people to access those things have become a luxury that disappearingly few are able to actually utilize, it feels like there's no way to live life "correctly" anymore at all. it feels like everything we try to do takes the form of a hollow echo of the idea we were led to believe was our future.

but i can assure you of this:

as long as you have food in your belly

as long as you have something that makes you laugh when you can

as long as you have something that helps you cry when you need to

as long as you feel okay asking for help with those things

there is something to wake up for, and something to keep trying for. it doesnt matter if it feels fake to you. it only matters if it works for you, because that's the only person you really need to live for.

i phrase this all in a very matter-of-fact way, because i do not know you and i cannot know your situation, nor can i feign like i have a great emotional need to help you. all the same, i hope that you won't take it as a cold or apathetic answer. it's important that you know i typed it all out because i hope that it will encourage you to stay with us.

[girlthatgotawaysdiary]

how to prepare for 2025 𐙚

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as im writing this, there are only 2 days left in the year. i spent a couple of days preparing for the year, and this is what i have decided to do! so grab ur journal(or just a notebook) and write these questions down with me…🎀

#1 revise.

revise your goals at the beginning of 2024, and will you be bringing them in 2025? what have you achieved? what will you leave behind? what can you do to achieve these goals next year? what did u love from this year that u can bring to 2025? 

little tip: for next year, let's make it a habit to write down small goals(e.g. drinking 2L of water every single day)every month, it will eventually become the norm for u. this will keep you more focused & determined. i also recommend using the app ‘habit’ it is SO helpful.

#2 aspirations/resolutions.

grab a piece of paper and brainstorm ideas on who you aspire to be for the up and coming year. make sure u make these goals believable. an example of a believable goal is to hope i lose 10kg, not lose 30. even tho its possible, its never a good idea to be overconfident, because it would lead to burning out.

little tip: make a vision board, a couple of days ago i made one for 2025, and it was so therapeutic !!! i also recommend putting it somewhere u will always be looking at it.

#3 do’s & donts 

i used to always do this, so i just primarily write down the habits i acquired this year that i want to continue and the ones i dont. i write this on a piece of paper(basically a list).

#4 mistakes.

if u have made mistakes in 2024, you have the choice of either making the same mistake over and over and over again, or learning from the mistakes and the choices u made that led up to it. 

#5 regrets

what did you regret this year, and how can u make up for it in 2025? usually when people regret doing something, they fall back into bad habits, what can you do to prevent that from happening to you?

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