#make you happy... something something... a woman can never be more than a woman

[pineconepie]

Here's the yanmom drider from a poll I did a while ago!

CHARACTERS: Anevra, Reader/You

WARNINGS/TAGS: Parental yandere, forced infantilization, baby-talk, animal death (hunting), abduction, semi-obedient reader, non-sexual nudity, bathing, escape attempt

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

Your torch flickers weakly, squinting through the darkness and the rain, trying to make sense of your surroundings. It's hard to see anything when you can't even see the sky.

You knew it was a bad idea to be exploring in these dark hours, but you needed to try and find shelter before night fell for real.

Your eyes finally pick out what looks like the entrance to some kind of cave.

Well, not like it's ideal, but at least you won't have to worry about getting any wetter, right? Besides, maybe the storm will calm down, and you'll be able to get home soon.

It's a spacious cave, and all you can hope is there isn't anything horrific to greet you inside. Your boots squeak against the rock floor as you walk carefully deeper in. It's pretty cold in here, though at least it's much drier than outside.

Maybe you can just build yourself a fire and hunker down.

You take out supplies from your backpack and set them on the floor, lying down on a blanket as a makeshift mattress.

Then you take a long drink from your canteen, wiping some of the moisture away from your face with the edge of your sleeve.

Using the little fire left from your torch, you lift it to take in your surroundings more better. There's a lot of large cobwebs stretching throughout the cave... but you know most spiders are generally peaceful creatures, right? As long as you don't provoke one... You look down at your own hands and realize how badly they're shivering.

As you rummage through your backpack to find something else to help warm you up, you hear a skittering noise. But it has to just be the echo of your own movement off the walls, right?

Something is thrown in your general direction, making you yelp. It's the carcass of a dead animal, but you don't get time to analyze what it is, because now you're terrified about who just threw that... or rather, what threw that.

The skittering noise again. And this time, it doesn't sound like an echo at all. Rather, you're almost completely positive it's coming from somewhere in this cave.

Then you see her.

At first, she just happens to look like an extremely tall woman, one with short light brown hair and blue eyes.

But then you see her multitude of legs and realize why this cavern looks so huge.

She looks just as shocked as you probably do. Then she brings her hands to her mouth. "A human!" Her voice sounds surprised, but happy. She almost lunges forward towards you, crawling on several of her long spindly spider legs. She looms over you, examining you. The size comparison between you both makes her seem at least three times taller than you.

You stay frozen in place, staring back at her. This can't be real... You're just exhausted and dehydrated and need some sleep. But that can't happen if your body refuses to allow you to close your eyes for a minute, too paralyzed by fear.

"I cannot believe my luck! After centuries, here I was thinking that I'd never have children to dote upon!" She places her hand to the side of your face. "What a blessing you are!"

Despite everything, your curiosity wins out over your caution. "Why... umm... why aren't you trying to eat me?" You hope that doesn't put ideas into her head.

She looks absolutely appalled. "Why would I ever think about doing such a thing?"

"Well..." You motion towards her extra eight legs and to the dead animal carcass still laying on the cavern floor. "Don't driders eat humans?"

"A lot of them do," she admits, "but not me! I've always adored humans! You all are just so small and cute!" She gently strokes one finger against your cheek. "Look at you! You're so small!" She suddenly stops and pulls away. "Where are my manners? My name is Anevra. Oh! But I suppose humans don't call their mothers by their name typically." She smiles warmly at you. "So how does Mama sound?"

This is ridiculous, you decide. This has to be some kind of twisted dream that your sleeping mind created. Your brain must just love seeing how much it can torment you, even if you aren't conscious.

"Mama?" you echo, feeling unsure of what else you should say.

"It rolls off your tongue nicely." Anevra's voice is smooth and warm, as is the expression on her face.

With how big she is compared to you, you can't tell if she genuinely thinks you're a child or not, but you don't really want to stick around long enough to find out.

The longer she looks at you expectantly, the more pressured you feel to do or say something, anything. Perhaps if you go along with what ever this is, you can find a way to escape, since you have an idea she won't let you leave willingly.

She leans in close, her face only inches away from your own, so close that you can see her eyelashes. "I bet you were scared, all alone outside by yourself in the rain. Don't worry, sweetling, Mama's got you now." She lifts you off the cave floor as easily as picking up a feather, then sets you into the crook of one of her arms. "It'll be okay now," she whispers.

Her extra legs guide your arms around her neck. When she's satisfied that you won't fall, she crawls back into the darkness of the cavern, where there are more cobwebs.

"I know that when I was younger I'd get comfort out of cuddling," she comments softly. "Are human children similar?"

"...miss, I am not a child," you finally say.

Anevra laughs, a soft sound echoing against the walls. "What a funny little thing you are!" She rubs her large hand over your head. "Of course you are. Why else are you so little compared to me, hmm?"

"Because I'm a human, not a drider!" You wiggle against her grasp, which just seems to make her grip harder onto you. Her strong embrace feels like it could snap your bones if she pressed any tighter.

"You are definitely my baby," she continues. "You don't have to be so shy about it."

With nothing else you can do, you decide to try and go along with her delusions. Maybe once she gets comfortable with you, she'll let her guard down, and then you can make a run for it.

It doesn't take very long for you both to reach a chamber deep inside the cavern system, but you weren't really sure how to keep track of time when all you could see were shadows and webs.

There are more spider-like aspects to her dwelling than before, with thick webs covering parts of the walls and ceilings, acting almost like decoration.

"Do humans normally shiver so much?" she murmurs, almost to herself.

You look down at yourself, just now realizing how you can barely keep your body still.

Whether it's from fear or coldness, you can't tell, though. It was colder deeper within the cave system, so that could definitely be a factor. Plus, now that the shock from meeting Anevra is starting to wear off, the chill is sinking in.

"Cold," you reply through chattering teeth.

"You poor thing." She brushes her knuckles against your face. "Let me wrap you up in a cocoon."

Before you can protest, you feel webbing wrap around you as tightly as a blanket. She holds you close to her chest like a precious gemstone. You can hear her heartbeat against your ear. Your struggles just cause you to get wrapped up even further. And she's looking at you with such maternal adoration. How could someone so dangerous seem so sincere?

But eventually you get exhausted from trying to fight, and she hums pleasantly in satisfaction.

"Hush, my little one." She presses a kiss to your forehead. "Now that I have you safely wrapped, you can rest your weary head against me all you'd like." She traces her clawed finger across your cheekbone.

...

When you wake up, everything is quiet, save for the distant sounds of wind howling and rain pouring down into the cavern.

As soon as you can get away from Anevra, the better.

However, when you squirm, you realize you're still wrapped in webbing. Then you start to struggle.

You hear a familiar skittering sound. It echoes off the walls until Anevra shows herself. She tilts her head at you. "Good morning, little one!" she greets enthusiastically. "What are you doing?"

"Can I come out now? I'm no longer cold or tired," you inform her.

"No! Not yet!" she insists. "I still want to hold you!"

How frustrating. But maybe there's something you could try to convince her. If it doesn't work, hopefully she won't react violently towards you.

"I wouldn't be going anywhere else," you promise. "I just wanted to... uhh..." It feels silly to say this next part, but it might just work. "...be able to hug you with my own arms," you finish quietly.

Luckily for you, Anevra reacts exactly as you hoped she would. She covers her mouth with her hands, eyes practically sparkling as she squeals with delight.

"Oh, you're such a darling little thing, you know that? You're simply too precious for this world."

She unravels you from the cocoon with great care, as if you'd break at any second.

But once you're free from the webbing, you try to jump down, only to be pulled into another embrace by her. Though it's less constraining than the webbing was. Still, it doesn't change the fact you're being held against your will by a drider.

You reluctantly wrap your arms around her midsection. You hope that you're being convincing, because all you want to do is get out of here.

She pets the top of your head. "Aren't you just the sweetest baby? Hmm? Mama loves you so, so, so much!" She punctuates each word with a kiss on your forehead.

Now that you think about it, maybe you'll have to plan this more well. After all, you don't know the layout of the big cave well at all, not to mention how dark it is and the fact she is probably fifty times more strong and fast than you are.

Perhaps if you spend some time getting used to the layout of the cave, you'll be more prepared to make your escape.

For now, all you can do is play along. You let her dote and coddle, as annoying as it is, because hopefully in the end, your efforts will prove to be worthwhile.

Anevra sets you on the ground for a minute while she scours the cave, muttering things to herself under her breath.

"What are you doing?" you ask after a little while.

She turns her attention back to you. "Oh, I'm sorry! Here I am ignoring you!" She shakes her head. "Mama is just a bit distracted, that's all. I'm trying to find suitable food for a human. And after that, I'll bathe you by the hot spring. Does that sound okay, sweetling?"

"Hot spring?" you repeat, confused. "There's a hot spring here?"

"Yes," she answers happily. "This cave is much bigger than it looks."

She starts a small fire nearby using logs and sticks, presumably collected from the outside, then places a flat rock on top.

You can hear your stomach grumble as she cooks a slab of something, though you're not quite sure what kind it is. It's still so hard to see in this dim lighting.

Once it's finished cooking, Anevra leans over to you, holding the meat up to your face.

"Can you feed yourself?" she asks gently. "Or do you need Mama to do it for you?"

"I can do it myself." As embarrassing as it is, you don't think you could bare her feeding you like a helpless infant. So you gingerly take the food from her claws and begin to eat. It tastes surprisingly good, but maybe your hunger is causing your tastebuds to favor everything edible. Either way, you're thankful to fill your aching stomach. Despite everything, Anevra's warm smile feels genuine.

After you both finish eating, she offers her hand to help you stand up, which you cautiously accept.

You walk down several long passageways, illuminated by the light of a lantern, until you reach the hot springs. There are steam clouds floating around the water and in the air, making everything moist.

She hums as she begins undressing you. For a moment, you're freezing again, but she grabs you from under your armpits and places you into the hot spring. The warmth hits your bones like an electric shock, and you melt against the rocks.

"Good baby," Anevra murmurs to you.

As she begins washing you, your mind goes numb for a moment. But you're startled back into focus once her fingers comb through your hair and scratch against your scalp.

"So tiny," she marvels aloud, "so small. Fragile and cute." She plants a kiss to your temple. "All mine."

Your body feels numb and limp from the warmth, despite the weirdness of the situation. The water smells faintly of lavender. Your eyes flutter shut, and for a blissful moment, you're asleep and peaceful.

Nothing exists, nothing worries you, and nothing bothers you. Just the sensation of weightlessness, like you're floating in a cloud.

Suddenly, you jolt back awake as you feel Anevra pulling you out of the water. She dries you off with a cloth, then grabs a shirt and shorts. They look handmade, though they're pretty big, enough to hang loosely around your frame.

The two of you settle into silence as she guides you back into the depths of the cavern.

...

Each day begins roughly the same. You wake up, have breakfast, try to get familiar with the layout of the cave, have dinner, and bathe in the hot spring.

Anevra is always watching, her gaze hovering over you, protective yet possessive. Even so, you try your hardest to keep your emotions neutral. You can't risk showing how upset and uncomfortable you are by her behavior.

Your opportunity comes to you one night, as she's sleeping. Most of her legs stretch out, and you lay carefully in the crook of one of her arms. When you sense that her breathing has become steady, you wiggle away slowly.

However, once you free yourself, you see that Anevra hasn't moved at all, still deeply asleep.

Good.

You creep as silently as possible to the entrance of the cavern system. Luckily for you, the sunlight shines down into the opening. Makes sense it'd be daytime, she must be nocturnal.

Everything's fine.

Until it isn't. And that happens the second you step outside and realize you have no idea where the fuck you are. The landscape around you is barren and unfamiliar, and you don't recognize any landmarks. At this point, it seems like your best option would be to retrace your steps, or at least attempt to, before you ended up lost in this place.

You're walking for about half a mile when you finally turn around.

And instantly regret doing so.

There stands Anevra. She's smiling, but you can feel the malice radiating off of her. Her face is eerily blank of expression, aside from the grin plastered on her face, unnaturally wide and bright. As though she were forcing herself to remain cheerful for you.

"Aren't we silly today?" she asks. "Going on an adventure, are we?" Her tone is calm, but you sense danger lurking behind her words.

She doesn't give you a chance to reply before lifting you off the ground and carrying you back inside.

"I'm so very disappointed in you," she says, wrapping you in a layer of thick webbing. "Mama told you many times never to leave the cave, especially by yourself. You disobeyed me." With every word, the webbing grows tighter. "It looks like you need to truly learn how to depend on me before I can trust you again." She cradles your cocooned self like a swaddled infant.

"Please! Let me go!" you exclaim. "I didn't mean to scare you!"

Anevra clicks her tongue disapprovingly. "You didn't listen, sweetling. Mama's not angry, though. You just need to learn how much you need me."

[burningcheese-merchant]

Finally made a BurningCheese chart. I can finally die now /j

More detailed explanations under cut. I admit that my placements are a liiiiiiiiiittle all over the place because I ship BurningCheese a bunch of different ways, but for the most part it's really the enemies to lovers + redemption arc from my main canon influencing my thoughts here

Tropes: idk if this really needs much elaboration. Enemies to Lovers + Soulmates + Forbidden Love (the hero/villain type) + God Couple + Narrative/Character Foils + Golden Cheese has some tsundere tendencies at points + Burning Spice's yandere tendencies + Tall and Short + idk the exact names of all the tropes man lol. These are probably the most important ones

Age Difference: who actually knows lol. They're both old coots, that's the gist of it. They're so old that they both knew the Burger King when he was a prince. They're so old their birth certificates already expired. They're so old that if you told them to act their age, they'd keel over and die on the spot. Old people being madly in love even after so many years is so cute 😭

Height Difference: If your Burning Spice does not have to duck when walking through doorways then you're imagining him wrong. Hell I STILL might've made him too short. Golden Cheese must barely reach his shoulder while standing and fit snugly in his lap while sitting, It Is Decreed (I know 5'7" isn't THAT short, I'm just leaning into the short queen jokes)

Trust Lvl: This was a little tough for me because I was juggling multiple factors at once. I gave BS 100% trust because I think, no matter what, he genuinely would trust her. To love him, to be loyal, to be there when he needs her, to beat his ass black and blue when necessary, to listen to what he has to say about things. He's giving his whole entire self to her without hesitation or regrets. / There's that bit of the bar still empty for Golden Cheese because, even when she warms up to him (and she never once doubts his love for her, that's not the issue), she's not entirely sure of what he'll do. For a long while yet, some part of her will worry that he will turn on her and resume his reign of terror at any moment. She needs time and consistency. Proof that he will choose her over destruction if and when pushed. When he's fully able to do that, THEN she trusts him fully. (Outside of the main canon, it remains a bit empty (even LOWER in some instances) bc he very much remains evil and she cannot abide by that)

Jealousy Lvl: Burning Spice is jealous and possessive but not overly so. He doesn't really need to be; he knows his little bird is loyal. But she's a beautiful woman in more ways than one, and he's far from the only person to notice that. So he gets mad when he catches anyone making goo-goo eyes at her, or even flirting if they somehow have the gumption. He doesn't harm them anymore but he will step in and make some show of dominance, like grabbing her and pulling her into a kiss or scooping her up in his arms. Something to pointedly demonstrate that she is HIS and no one else's. / Golden Cheese is very confident and secure; she knows her worth and she knows and trusts that Burning Spice would never stray. But... in the end, she's still Golden Cheese. She's still greedy. She still doesn't want anyone coveting what is hers, no matter what. It's practically a compulsion at this point. So in those (thankfully rare) moments where some floozy who's forgotten her place tries to make a move on HER man, then she's more than happy to correct her. (The encounter ends with Spice covered in kiss marks (and super happy) and the wannabe homewrecker in tears because Golden can be a MEAN girl when she tries)

Horny Lvl: I might've made a mistake not marking Spice's a little bit higher because he's definitely a horndog lol. Of course he's not completely fucking bonkers but he does often struggle to keep his hands off of his bird wife. Physical touch is his main love language anyway + goddamn it she's gorgeous she's everything he ever wanted he NEEDS HER- / Golden Cheese very much enjoys sex and thinks their sex life is perfect, but she's not as needy as him. Like, she doesn't DIE for it unless it's been too long. She has self-control/discipline and other things to think about lol (there's actually a nsfw ship chart that I've thought about filling out and posting, but idk if I should. I have a billion headcanons for them, sfw and nsfw. I'm just nervous abt the latter because I feel kind of embarrassed lol. I usually save the freaky stuff for AO3)

Clingy Lvl: Again, physical touch is Burning Spice's main love language. That combined with his time in prison (millennia in isolation) and Golden Cheese being his literal soulmate makes for a good deal of separation anxiety lol. He will give her space if she really pushes, and of course he has things he wants to do on his own time and she can't always be around. But... no matter what, at the end of the day, he NEEDS her back in his arms. He gets bored and lonely really fast without her. She makes his day better just being near him. He needs to touch her, hold her, hear her voice, run his hands through her wings, taste those pretty lips again... / With all of the hardship she's endured in her life, Golden Cheese has developed a certain tolerance for solitude. Of course she'd rather have company, including his, but if push comes to shove, she can handle being alone. She's fiercely independent in many aspects of her life. Her time with Burning Spice can wait if something more important comes up. She won't die without him. (But she'll certainly miss him)

How It Happens: come on man, you played the game, didn't you? BS falling head over heels on sight, feelings only deepening with time and closeness, and him doing everything in his power to be near her as often as possible? For sure. Golden Cheese taking 10000 years to warm up to him, slowly starting to see the halfway decent man buried deep down beneath the blackened soil of his heart, starting to care for him and want him by her side without even realizing it at first, and trying to deny it when she finally does realize what's happening? Definitely

Relationship Attitude: Obviously they're both very much in love and devoted to each other, but Golden Cheese dials it back a bit in public - just for the sake of appearances, really. She's the queen; she can't go about acting like a lovestruck schoolgirl, she has a reputation to uphold. Burning Spice, on the other hand, absolutely does not give a fuck about what anyone has to say about anything at all. He WILL trap his little bird in a warm embrace and he WILL smother her with kisses and fuck whoever is standing there watching, they can fuck off and mind their own business

First to Confess: He may not have said the exact words "I love you" but good Lord he may as well have with how he behaves in episode 6 lmao. 555-COME-ON-NOW (and omg he is SO fucking happy she eventually says it back)

First to Kiss: Spice. Duh lol. Honestly the only reason he didn't kiss her during eps 5 and 6 is because Devsis are a bunch of cowards

First to Apologize: Another tough one bc they're both very proud/stubborn and would probably demand the other apologize before they do. But because Golden Cheese is a hero at her core, I think it's a bit more likely that she'd say it first. Usually.

Initiates Contact: Spice all the way. He even initiated when they first met lol. He's always the one seeking her out, starting conversations, getting those big strong arms of his around her. Not that she never initiates, he just does it a lot more

Spoils the Other: In total honesty I think they both spoil the other, just in different ways. Golden Cheese with food and trinkets and general pampering, Burning Spice with that physical affection of his. Plenty of flirting and compliments from both. But Goldie is Goldie so of course she wins lol. As if she wouldn't lavish her lover with the finest of everything all the time

Wakes Up First: As queen, Golden Cheese has long since grown accustomed to rising bright and early to attend to her kingdom and subjects. "Early bird gets the cheese" and all that. Burning Spice sleeps like the dead and always wakes up after her (usually to grumble about her getting up bc he doesn't want her to. He tries to hold her hostage in bed almost every morning)

Does the Cooking: Believe it or not, Burning Spice is actually a pretty good chef (I headcanon him as such haha). Golden Cheese really loves the food he makes (he's best with food from his own culture, but he does a good job with other things too) and she's used to other people cooking for her (she's pretty basic at it tbh. She doesn't burn water like Hollyberry but she can't do much) so hubby making her good food? Yes please

Does the Housework: I cannot imagine Golden Cheese NOT being a bit of a neat freak. Why wouldn't she want everything looking pristine 24/7, to fit her immaculate visions of an immaculate, prosperous land? Burning Spice is Burning Spice, he would sleep on the fucking floor and in piles of trash and dirty clothes (and probably has tbh) if left alone, he is literally Destruction why would he clean anything. He gets pissy when he sweeps the floor with a broom for 5 seconds he ain't doing no housework unless forced to (which he often is)

Does the Talking: Was going to leave just Goldie but tbh I don't see Spice just standing there while she talks. He'd want to talk himself. He'd want to participate. He's not shy, he's no introvert. They're both asserting themselves in conversations for sure

The More Popular: I chose to define "popular" as "regarded with affection and respect by many", thus handing it to Goldie. Spice has his soldiers and they are numerous, but they obey him only out of fear. Golden is genuinely loved and listened to. (Even post-redemption, people just gravitate to her more lol. Just how it is)

The Designated Driver: Burning Spice behind the wheel is a doomsday scenario. He has been preemptively banned from driving to prevent death and property damage and war crimes. Fine, whatever, he'd rather walk. He doesn't need this newfangled contraption no matter how cool it is. Come on let him drive a monster truck 200 mph through concrete walls :(

The Better Caregiver: I'm certain they'd both take care of each other when sick or injured. Doubly so since both would probably balk at being fussed over lol. (I know Golden has her attendants and likes being pampered but I feel like it would just hit different with Spice, you know?) They're both proud and stubborn and need to appear strong all the time... But when the shoe is on the other foot, they'd both do whatever they can for the other regardless of their protests. (Especially true on Spice's part when Golden is pregnant with their kids, he goes above and beyond for her both times)

The Overprotective One: This is more so when Golden is pregnant tbh. Any other time, they don't really worry much about each other's safety as they're very confident in each other's strength and fighting capabilities ("I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me"). When she's pregnant, Spice goes full Protective Husband/Papa Bear mode and both worships the ground she walks on and fusses over he constantly, almost treating her like a porcelain doll. Her needs and wants are always met immediately, but he basically becomes her second shadow and is even hostile to other people who interact with her. It's both sweet and frustrating

The Planner: Golden Cheese planned a whole ass highly detailed virtual reality where her subjects could live again. Burning Spice forsook planning and anything like it in his descent into villainy as he couldn't bring himself to care about it anymore. Destruction doesn't need a plan. So yeah, Golden is the planner for sure. Best Spice would do is maybe try to plan dates because he wants to please/impress her

"Excuse me, they asked for no pickles": Spice just likes watching Golden go and firmly correct people lol. It's funny and hot. He doesn't even really care that the pickles are there, he just loves her assertiveness

Big Spoon VS Little Spoon: Was going to leave Spice on Big Spoon end and Golden on Little Spoon end but tbh, they'd split it. Spice is Big Spoon more often than not but Golden would definitely be Big Spoon too. They holdin each othah

Early Bird VS Revenge Procrastination: refer to "Wakes Up First". Golden has a kingdom to run, can't sleep in. Spice technically does too but whatever they're tough they can do shit on their own, he wants to lay in bed with his bird wife go away

Tidy VS Chaotic: Refer to "does the housework". Golden Cheese cares about appearances and functionality, she wants her kingdom and living space clean and beautiful and the envy of the world. Burning Spice is Burning Spice

Screams Over Bugs VS Kills/Removes Bugs: I don't think Golden would do either tbh. Probably just shoo the bug away. Spice is squashing that fucker though, even post-redemption (old habits die hard)

Lends Clothes VS Borrows Clothes: Spice doesn't really have too many clothes to lend tbh (too big + not really her style). She mostly nabs any jewelry he has lol. He doesn't mind, he actually really adores that she'll wear his things. He sees it as a show of pride in their relationship. (Shhh... Sometimes, when they've been apart for a long time and his absence feels particularly painful, she'll grab one of his dhotis and wrap herself up in it. Bring it to her face, breathe in his scent. Revel in its softness. Don't tell anyone)

Takes Hints VS Clueless: ngl as forward as Spice is with Golden, I'm not sure he'd notice or care if anyone else flirted with him. He just doesn't seem like the type to have ever cared about that sort of thing, both as Herald and as Beast. Too wrapped up in other ideas and pursuits (and in the event that he actually caught on to someone hitting on him, Herald would've politely turned them down and Beast would viciously mock them and probably kill them). Like, Golden actually is the one person that ever caught his eye. And she's got more relationship experience under her belt and knows how to be subtle, so there actually are times when she says or does something and it goes over his head (it's cute and funny sometimes and frustrating others)

Romantic VS Casual: They're certainly not casual but I think Golden would put more effort into being romantic just as a consequence of who she is. That "wanting to pamper and adore my lover to the fullest extent" thing. Spice didn't care about love or romance before her, and was just never really a romantic type. He tries to pick it up more just for her. But what he perceives to be romantic doesn't always align with "tradition" (ex: he thinks their brutal fights are hot/romantic). He does have some charm, he can be smooth, he can do genuinely sweet and romantic things. But it's something he learns and refines over time

Decisive VS Indecisive (I FORGOT THIS ONE FUCK): They're both pretty decisive and firm in their decisions. What makes Golden hesitate is specifically her relationship and interactions with Spice. Grappling with the reality of her feelings and attachment and their relationship. Wondering if he'll turn on her when she lets her guard down. Struggling with the morality of it all. Fearing rejection to a small degree maybe. (I honestly like the concept of the Beasts and Ancients bringing things out of each other that no one else can or has. Like how Shadow Milk makes Pure Vanilla genuinely angry, or Burning Spice makes Golden Cheese doubt herself and her choices. I want them all keeping each other on their toes. Challenging each other. Making each other upset when they're happy and happy when they're upset. You know what I mean?)

Mature VS Playful: I think they're both equally playful with each other tbh. Something they're both on the same level with. Lots of banter (I love writing their back-and-forths, imo they'd keep up with each other so well), lighthearted sarcasm and jabs and jokes, some play fighting/roughhousing. They have fun with each other

Straightforward VS Vague: Spice has been telling Golden things to her face from minute 1. Just admitting all of his shit to her. Spilling his spaghetti. He likes her, he wants her, they're going to be together forever. Point blank period.

Confident VS Shy: Of course they're both super confident, do I have to elaborate? Lol

Ray of Sunshine VS Done™️: Golden may not be on the same level as Pure Vanilla (nobody is lol) but even so, all things considered, she seems like a relatively happy person. Still finds joy in life and things. She's not cold or stoic or anything like that. Spice... I probably should've moved him further to the right tbh. I just always think of "done" as "visibly tired" and I let that influence his placement. He IS tired, he IS done, it just presents differently. So forgive me and imagine his little Soul Jam there being significantly closer to the end of the right side please and thank you

Realistic VS Idealistic: dude come on lol. The game spells it out for us. Spice is a cruel, bloodthirsty nihilist who goes out of his way to take down things that make people happy. Who virulently denies the value of life and humanity and insists that everything and everyone are only destined to become dust, and any attempt to stop or deny this is futile and pathetic. He's cynical, pessimistic, doesn't do "hope" or ideals anymore. Golden, on the other hand, believes so strongly in her own dreams and ideals that she locked herself away in a false reality just so she could "revive" her kingdom. And when she woke, she continued dedicating herself to finding a way to bring them all back. She is hope and idealism incarnate, to the point of straight up delusion. They're both extremes that mirror each other

Would Die for Attention VS Independent: Look at all the crazy shit Spice has done so Golden would pay attention to him lol. He needs the pretty cheese lady to notice him and talk to him and touch him and beat him up. Please. Pretty please (not as pretty as her though, nothing is). Please they're soulmates she has to. He won't immediately burst into flames if she's not next to him 24/7, but he's happier with her than without. He starts itching when they're apart for too long (and it doesn't take all THAT long tbh). As said before, Golden likes and wants his company but she's always been a fiercely independent woman and can handle solitude

Tense VS Easygoing: wasn't super sure what to do for this one. Like idk what "tense" is supposed to mean here. I think Golden is relatively normal about everything, doesn't worry about cheating or anything else really. I attribute that little bit of tenseness in Spice to his jealousy and clinginess. But otherwise he's probably fine

Head VS Heart: neither of them are stupid, far from it, but it's clear that they both allow emotion to govern their actions more than logic lol. No matter how he may claim to have destroyed his own emotions to rid himself of attachment, it's clear that Burning Spice still feels things, in general but ESPECIALLY for/about her. It's all heart when it comes to her. No logic, no laws, no rules, just him and her and THEM. Just their connection, just their relationship. Golden Cheese may still abide by a somewhat stronger logical anchor, but even so, she's a "heart" girl. It's her heart that pushed her to make her fantasy world. It's her heart that makes her cling so hard to her treasures, despite logically knowing they're gone. It was her heart that saved her in episode 6, her thoughts and memories and love for her friends that made and still make her strong. And though logic fights a good fight with regards to her relationship with Spice, it's her heart that wins again in the end

[requiem-for-a-raisin]

Victor - The Abstinent Beast Devours Love Story Event

*Fan translation for funsies! IP owned by Cybird, translations are my own and may be inaccurate. 18+ MDNI. See About page for more info.*

:readmore:

Since I started dating Victor, I've been facing a problem.

Neema

"Oh, Vic… tor..."

The quiet room echoed with the sound of our breaths and bodies. His long hair hung down like a canopy, hiding only me. I clutched at him desperately, squinting at the beads of sweat that fell from my eyes.

Victor

"Neema."

Neema

"Ahh!"

The moment he dug deep inside me, my mind went blank.

(This is definitely a serious problem...)

Neema

"Victor, I need to talk to you."

I reluctantly got up and sat on the bed, the ache between my legs still lingering. My voice was hoarse, and every muscle in my body was screaming in pain.

Victor

“What is it?"

He sat up and looked at me with a gentle gaze.

Neema

"No sex for a while!!"

A problem I faced after starting a relationship with Victor.

The reason was that my nights with him were so good that I lost my stamina, and by the time it was over I was exhausted and unable to move.

(After he had made me cum so many times, I thought I had reached my limit, and then the real thing started.)

After most of my strength had been taken, I finally took his heat.

Victor

"・・・・・・・・・"

(I understand Victor's thinking, though...)

Given our size difference, I need to be well prepared to accept his heat. I know that he is so careful to prepare me because he cares for me more than anything, but even so…

Neema

“I don't have the stamina ・・・・・!'

This was two weeks ago.

Victor

"Well then Neema, good night."

Neema

“Yes, good night."

We get into bed and I fall asleep in his arms.

Victor was keeping his promise again today, and I was both relieved and in agony over it.

(I've never seen him not do it for two whole weeks・・・・・・)

The look on his face when I had issued the prohibition was the very essence of despair.　

Although he understood the reason, I felt so sorry for him when I saw how sad and dejected he looked. I secretly started training and working hard to build up my physical strength and improve my stamina.

(I'm slowly but surely getting stronger, so it should be okay.)

I feel like I won't be able to bear it if we don't do it any more, so I rubbed my cheek against his chest.

Neema

"Um, Victor."

Victor

"Hmm?"

His eyelashes flutter, and his beautiful jewel eyes catch my gaze.

Neema

"Well, today..."

Victor gently strokes my head.

Victor

"Don't worry, I won't do it today either."

Neema

"Huh?"

Victor

"I was so happy that the woman I loved had finally fallen for me, and I got carried away."

Victor

"I didn't think about the burden it would cause you... I'm so sorry."

Neema

"It's my fault, Victor."

Victor

"No, it's my fault. I'm sorry, Neema."

I want to feel the joy of being with the person I love forever, just like you.

Neema

"Victor."

Victor

"Huh?... Hmmm."

I gather up my courage and steal his lips.

Victor blinks in surprise.

Neema

“I've been training for the past two weeks.”

Neema

"I'm sure I've gotten stronger than before, but..."

Before I can finish, my lips are taken away by him, and I am intoxicated by the deepest kiss I’ve had in a long time.

Just as my head started to get fuzzy, Victor let go of my lips, got up, and grabbed both of my legs.

Victor

"Let me tell you something you are misunderstanding.”

Neema

"Eh, ahhh?"

He pushed my underwear aside and brought his face closer in between my legs.

Victor

“It's not really an elaborate preparation for me to make you cum until you are a mess."　

Victor

“I have been pushing you because your face when you cum is so cute, and I always want to see it more.”

I was grabbed with such force that I couldn't escape even if I wanted to. The tip of his tongue finally poked at my sensitive bud.

Victor

"I haven't seen you for two weeks, so I think I'll make you melt more than usual today."

The next day he devotedly cared for me, as I was unable to get out of bed.

His face was glazed and shining with joy as he smiled happily at me.

—

Not me screaming and kicking my feet translating this, I can’t believe the elusive Victor is secretly a Roger in disguise. Took me way too long to understand the “problem” here, but I finally get it 😳. Thank you Cybird, I’m so happy old man Victor is finally free to be a horn dog 🙏.

[bwobgames]

“Woah… a real ghost…”

“You seem well educated, why are you scared of ghosts? Or even believe in them?”

“Well, its hard not to! Everyone says they are real and scary!”

“Also, ugh, I was forced to tell you sorry for being ‘creepy’ or whatever. I’m not creepy though!”

“It’s normal for girls to look at other girls and appreciate how attractive they are!”

“It’s true, I was the same at your age. Comes in every girl’s life”

She ignores the fact that she is married to a woman.

“But at the end you end up with a guy regardless, yeah?”

“…Maybe”

“I’ll have to end up with Fede, which is kinda gross but I’ll get over it probably”

“Wh- What do you mean you ���have’ to? Is someone forcing you to marry him?”

“No, no, it’s not like, planned or anything, it’s just…”

“We know each other for a long time, and our parents know each other for a long time and are good friends and they love to say we’re like a couple and plan stuff for when 'our families become one' and …”

“I’m not like, being forced to marry him or anything but like. Seems like things are heading that way”

“It wouldn’t be awful really, he’s my friend so we already get along, And! I get to stay at home all day while he fucks around in his dad’s business! I’ll be set for life!”

“And then what”

“Huh?”

“Once you achieve the life of your dreams, the perfect life”

“What comes next?”

“Uh. Kids?”

“Would that make it better?”

“Well, I wouldn’t get bored with kids…”

“And you’ll be happy with that?”

“Of course! It’s the dream! Everyone wants that!”

She’s right, of course. Anyone would want that life.

The correct life.

The one she’s been following, set for her, sacrificed for her.

Her parents might’ve been strict, but they taught her well, she will never fault her for doing what they thought would make her happy.

(But did they ever really do it for me?)

They taught her to take shortcuts, to cut all possible loses, to cut the floor beneath another person if necessary, to lie, to cheat.

To live with the sacrifices of others.

To love numbers, to live numbers, to see people as numbers.

To recognize the opportunity of a lifetime when it’s presented to her.

She could always recognize people like her by the way they smile.

Too perfect, too controlled. Too aware of their teeth.

Unlike her uncle’s smile. Yellow and crooked. Unbothered.

She was not unhappy, by all means she cannot say she was miserable.

Having high quality health care at her hand is more than most of the population could ever wish for. Not having to worry to survive until the next pay is a relief as well.

She is with her best friend, working together, being successful.

She has reached the top.

But she’s hungry.

She can differentiate right from wrong, she has let her family into an idyllic state of never worrying about money again. She is what everyone desires.

So there must be something deeply wrong when she’s still hungry

A hunger that is only satiated when she brushes her own hair. When she chooses her own clothes. When she’s in charge of decisions. When she can stand her ground in an argument.

A hunger that only grows with every stolen glance, with small touches, with an unbothered smile, an understanding voice.

Something that beckons to her to run away, to forget everything and start anew, to call her uncle and finally have that camping trip he offered. To say No to the ring.

But she can’t.

Because it’s not right.

It’s not what’s supposed to happen. It’s not what’s supposed to make her happy. It’s what she was taught. It’s what made her who she is.

It’s what everyone says.

And they’re all full of shit.

“I don’t think you’d be wrong to share the rest of your life with your friend, as long as you keep things as they are”

“Forcing yourself to a role you didn’t ask for is… detrimental in the long run”

“You’re young, surely someone as tenacious as you won’t bend down to the whims of some old rich guys, yeah?”

“Huh…?”

“You’ll get it when you’re older. I know you got a heart in there somewhere”

“I know it wants more than what they can offer.”

“Oh, it’s dinner time. Let’s go. It’s rude to keep people waiting”

“Wuh, uh ah, yes!”

Sometimes she really wishes things were different.

That she didn’t make so many mistakes.

That she noticed the lie sooner.

She grieves her youth.

<-PREV START NEXT->

[docholligay]

With all due respect, hate you, hate you so much, you got such a great vision of Roy and Hawkeye it makes me want to be able to fund you liveblogging both versions of the anime and the manga. Like, what the hell, you're not even as deep as all of us on this side, and you just do *that*. Gets me mad in a way that I got to go write something about them too

I HAVE ONLY SEEN UP TO EPISODE 15 OF THE 2003 ANIME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T SPOIL ME I AM REALLY ENJOYING MYSELF.

You know, sometimes in life, you just have to go, "Oh. Guess I'm here now." Same thing happened to me when I first got into Overwatch and I was like, "Oh, the untouchable unreachable cold assassin will be my girl!" and Tracer popped up like, "Did you mean the unfailingly brave and cheerful one? It is now!" (also, the main protagonist??? Or at least she was at the time. Never happens for me.)

I basically feel like I was punched in the back of the head in a dark alleyway by the relationship between those two. I am obsessed with whatever insane bullshit it is they have going on. The mind whirs. I like Roy and Hawkeye a lot individually, sure, but I don't know that they would, absent each other occupy all that much of my brainspace. But together!! Together!

Anyway, it's hilariously to the point where I almost don't want to watch more (I will, don't worry) because I very much love the vision I have of them cooked up in my head and I don't want to have something happen where it stops being fun for me, like, god forbid they kiss or some shit. I am trying not to get too attached to the thoughts I have about them, but when you watch a show the way I do, it involves a lot of ACTIVE watching and not passive watching, so I feel like a participant in the story. This can be really good--if I love something I tend to really love it and have lots to say--but it also means I get more disappointed than someone who binges the whole thing.

PLEASE DON'T SPOIL ME FOR ANY THING OR ANY VERSION

ANYWAY, this was a really nice comment! I am so happy that people who like Roy and Hawkeye seem to enjoy my take on them despite me not having much other than vibes to go on. They are very fun to think about. Having a great time.

They're so fucked up that I can't imagine them getting out and doing something different and better. Would they even know how to function in normal society? I can't see Hawkeye working in like, a cafe ahaha. Has Roy ever been allowed to learn how to warm and create with his alchemy, or is it all just destruction and COULD it even ever be something good?

AGAIN, I AM, A WOMAN ONLY 1/5 OF THE WAY THROUGH THE 2003 ANIME, AM JUST TLAKING OUT LOUD FOR MY OWN ENJOYMENT AND TO TORTURE MY FOLLOWERS. PLEAAAAASSSEEE DON'T SPOIL.

I think maybe Roy knows how utterly fucked he is for civilian life and part of his 'dog of the military' warning is 'if you grow around this metal pole, you won't be able to leave it alive'. Maybe. But Hawkeye, no I think--well in fairness I don't that she's thought it that far out, nor cares to. I think she's probably assumed she'll die in the service and that'll be that. Not in a melodramatic way, just, matter of fact*. How could she ever retire, even? Would she leave with Roy, if he asked? Would he ever be so unkind as to ask her? Even if he managed to find the will to walk out?

He's a mess, and she's a mess, and they are messes in completely different ways, and I am glad it inspires you to think about them some more as well!!

*Eta: I also think she underestimates how deeply Roy would mourn her. Not in a 'I'm not worth anything :(" way, I just think there's a part of her that doesn't like the idea of somehow being the cause of Roy being more of a disaster than he already is so she is just like, "It'll be fine. Hughes will have to step up. He'll be fine." But Roy has like two friends and Hughes is a functional human being.

AGAIN PLS NO SPOIL!!

[azaharinflames]

I didn’t start my day planning on being mean, but a certain portion of this fandom decided that they couldn’t keep Lou’s name out of their mouths so now I have thoughts.

We have RG brought on as a main, but frankly Eddie as a character has never gone anywhere. I was never much of an RG fan even before the unsavory things he said, but from what I have read, he hasn’t seemed to have brought much to the role beyond what was in the script. And yes, I get that he’s not a writer or the show runner, but Tim has shown himself to be amenable to good suggestions from the actors (which is why JLH ended up with Chim instead of Eddie, a decision from which his character never recovered).

Then you have the string of unsuccessful (potential) love interests who were all recurring. Similarly, I get that as a recurring you have even less agency than as a main and that’s even worse if you are a woman. All the same, the actors who played Ana, Taylor, Marisol, Lucy, and  death doula whose name alludes me but I’m too lazy to look up, brought NOTHING to the role outside of what was on the page. Granted, these characters were all written in way that made them doomed to fail, but if any one of them had brought something to the table to endear them to the GA and make the narrative work, they would have lasted/had the potential to be endgame level love interests. But it was early in the show’s run you say. Big deal. There are plenty of examples in television where a character was brought in for a handful of episodes early on and they either were kept (or else brought back) as a significant cast member.

And then there’s Lou. Looking back at the season 7 interviews, there is a clear gap between how Tim originally envisioned Tommy compared to Lou’s head canon. Tim saw a happy go lucky starter relationship guy with a hot and heavy make out session in 7x4. Tommy saw a protective guy with layers and past trauma who would deliver a tender 7x4 first kiss. Tim may get some things wrong, but he’s not such an egomaniac that he would go with the worse idea just because it was his. We will never know, but I don’t think Tim committed to making Tommy a significant/possible endgame LI until late season 7 or even while writing 8a. If Lou had done what RG or any of the actors who played Buck/Eddie’s past LI had done, i.e., read the script as is and contributed NOTHING, then Tommy would have been long gone. All this is to say that complaining about Lou having thoughts about his non-main character is tantamount to complaining that the man showed up and did his damned job to the best of his ability. The fact that he has clearly done so much work despite being really good looking in an industry that strongly favors attractiveness gives him extra points my book. Instead of hating on him, maybe they should be asking themselves why their guy didn’t do the same. 

I think you make an excellent point, Nonnie, and I love the way you put it.

At the end of the day, a big reason why we all love Tommy (and Bucktommy) as much as we do has to do with Lou (and with Oliver as well, when talking about the couple). Because Lou took the time and care to create Tommy and make him a bigger and deeper character than what the script said. Because he took so much care and advocated for what he thought made more sense for the character (i.e. their first kiss). It makes us love the character, and love him after seeing how much he cares, and ultimately it reflects very positively on the show.

I do think RG has given his input here and there (it was per his insistence that Marisol came back in S8), but it does feel like he rarely digs deeper into what he's given. At the very least, that's the impression I get (so anyone can disagree with it, that's fine!). I've never particularly connected with Eddie, and I am personally frustrated with the missed potential he has. If he stays, I honestly wish for the writers to figure out what the hell they want to do with him long term.

Anyway. I get your frustration, Nonnie. Bobs have been utterly insufferable since the interview, and the accusations I've seen coming from them? Ngl, there aren't words in the English language to describe what I think about them.

[kk-iki]

May I also add, yapping ahead. Sorry.

It’s kind of off putting when writers make the men “change for the reader” this belief that women are mean tot change men for the better is pushed so much by any media. What I mean is, we often see that men become soft because of their mothers, girlfriends, female friends showing them they can be soft. But it should never ever be considered as woman’s responsibility to make a man decent human being. We should not be happy that we made a man empathetic. Because he couldn’t get to that point himself. It’s weird. You don’t need or should fix anyone. (Real life specifically!!!)

Anyway as a raging feminist I do have some strong takes on everything because when you live your world being present and critical of the issues you can’t just look past them. However, as I said read what you like, if you don’t skip - it’s not about censorship and never will be. But it’s important to point things like this out because I don’t know decency I suppose.

Also I will be so sure to dm you when I write something worth posting (working on like five stories at once but snail pace because I never wrote anything longer than diary poetry level T_T)

hi again, baby. please, never apologize for yapping. i said it before and i'll happily say it again; i adore when people come into my inbox or my messages to share their thoughts with me. and i want to preface this by saying that everything you've written here, i absolutely agree with.

"[...] it should never ever be considered as woman’s responsibility to make a man decent human being."

this, this, THIS. when a man says he wants a girlfriend, that should mean he's looking for a girlfriend, not a mother figure or a therapist.

i think that it's just a little peculiar how one girl's presence is going to make these war - weary, hardened soldiers suddenly switch up and become the ideal partner. it's not only promoting this strange narrative that women are responsible for teaching men emotional maturity because they're 'naturally more emotional', but it's also just. . .not realistic.

i see this a lot with ghost and price fics, specifically. it's just a little ridiculous because a) there's an implication that the older a man is, the less in tune he is with his emotions, and b) there's also an implication that the younger a man is, the more in tune he is with his emotions.

personally, i feel like this is all a bit backwards ( something about age bringing experience ), but i'm someone who writes the kinds of things people in this fandom aren't interested in, so what weight do my words hold?

bottom line: if you are not emotionally prepared for a relationship, you absolutely should not go into one thinking that your partner will make you prepared. that is not what they signed up for, and that is not something you should be putting on them.

my dms are always open, baby. hit me up anytime; i'd love to see what you're working on. thank you so much for the ask.

[roscgcld]

hello! i have been reading ur blog since 2021 when u started the daydreaming!reader series! i am SO happy ur well and ur back and i cant wait to read ur works! can u write another daydreaming!reader fic that can be anything but focuses on her relations with nanamin and sukuna?

DAYDREAMING!READER || nanami and sukuna with her

note: honestly, that is such a slay idea of you. also, thank you so much for following alone for so long 🥺🥺💓 it's wild to think that you'd find my little pocket of the internet, and choose to spend your time here as well. I send loves and kisses lovely!! i also tried to write a fic, but I found writing a headcanon split between the two characters easier, so i hope you don't mind!!

pronouns: she/her

daydreaming!reader masterlist  |  buy me a coffee?

NANAMI KENTO - Mr Gentleman

say it after me - nanami is just husband, okay? i am not hearing anything against that

Sure, he can seem cold and uncaring, but he is still a gentleman, okay? It's especially noticeable if he is comfortable around you

from carrying your bags and jackets whenever you are tired, holding onto your drinks when you want to go shopping, and getting offended if you try to pay when he is around - just GIVE ME THIS MAN-

anyways - when it comes to daydreaming!reader and nanami, nanami really does set the standards in the sky. Poor Yuta tends to worry that nanami is pushing y/n's standards higher than is humanly possible

whenever they go out - nanami is waiting by the college entrance with some baked goods and whatever drink that she likes at that moment waiting for her to drink

he always makes sure she is holding onto his arm so she doesn't get lost, and always makes sure to push a path forward for her, letting her get on the train first so no one is shoving her from behind

He has hand sanitiser and wet tissues on standby whenever she wants to buy makeup. wordlessly letting her swatch shades on his hands without as much of a blink

has a list of restaurants in his phone that she has mentioned that she wanted to try amongst the ones he wants to try as well. he even noted down the most ordered items in case she wants to pick the dishes instead of picking a restaurant

gets offended whenever she tries to pay for anything - what man would allow a woman to pay?

does not care that people are whispering and staring, assuming that he is a sugar daddy. he doesn't really like people anyway, so if having y/n hanging off his arm as she babbles about whatever show she was watching means that people would potentially leave him alone, he will take the opportunity

while he is monotoned and straight to the point when he talks to others, he has a much more gentle tone whenever he addresses y/n. and usually has this soft smile on his face whenever he watches her interact with the world

if they are going on a mission together, nanami is watching her like a hawk.

trains with her, making sure that her movements are clean and that she is aware of all of her surroundings when she is fighting

he will make sure that she returns without a scratch on her person, letting her sit out the mission if she wants, but not stopping her if she wants to do it

he is very critical, though - he will correct her form mid-battle, reminding her to hone all her senses so she does not get hurt

he would step in and correct her, but only if she is about to get physically hurt, because at the end of the day, she needs to be strong enough to protect herself

even if she pouts with tears brimming in her eyes as he lectures her, he would sigh and bandage any scratches up, letting her cling onto him like a sad child as he brings her to get a sweet treat

lets her be in the kitchen whenever he bakes; something that he has never let anyone else do. She always leaves happy with extras for everyone in Jujutsu Tech (and yes, gojo has some as well)

is the one who taught her how to cook, actually - she knew some basics from her parents, but nanami was the one who taught her how to do things like sharpen a knife, how to slice veggies julienne style, etc

does skincare with her whenever he stays on campus - he has his own headband (a doggy-ear one), and always does face mask night with drinks and baked goods

He definitely has his own skincare routine at home, so both of them will go out shopping for the skincare bits together to make sure that it 'does not irritate his skin'

yes he is the self-care king - i am not hearing anyone else against that fact

would body double a lot - nanami reading a book or doing a wordcross puzzle, and y/n playing a video game quietly beside him on her switch. silent but enjoying each other's company

nanami is, and always has been, a gentleman. he loves peace, and somehow the chaotic y/n is peaceful whenever she is around him.

basically she is just his training daughter that he one day will have (and that baby mama is gonna be me ladies)

RYOMEN SUKUNA - Meanie

(in this story, i am making him yuji's uncle. it is just easier this way - idk how to write sukuna as a parasite inside yuji lmao)

When people think about ryomen sukuna, they cannot imagine how he is at all blood-related to itadori yuji at all

known as the 'king of curses' because of how well he channels curses to his advantage, to his deadly curse technique - he was a strong sorcerer that no one wanted to anger

saying that, however, it is a known thing that the men who look the scariest love the cutest of things

gojo, can't count how often he's seen Sukuna's dark fingernails painted with cute designs in different colours - flowers, glitter or sparkle decals, nail stickers. he swears he's seen sukuna with chrome nail art before as well

sukuna's desk, while bare bar with some neat stacks of paper and his laptop, has the cutest little toast plushie sitting on the highest shelf

ijichi asked him once about it, curious why he had just left the doll sitting on his desk

"that? the pipsqueak gave it to me - gonna cry a storm if i tossed it away."

while he hates when people look at him, even more so if they dare to talk to him, he would wander around to look for Y/N after her missions to ask how it has gone

he hates when students disturb him - he is known to be that one lecturer that no one goes up to after class to ask for questions unless you want to be ripped a new one for not 'paying closer attention'

yet y/n would randomly come skipping into the office and plop herself on the free seat next to sukuna's chair and start yapping, with sukuna just humming as he graded the papers before him

had forced both yuji and herself to study after class together - the two of them sitting in the empty classroom with sukuna glaring down at them, trying his hardest to not smack either of them

while he is understanding, he is firm, he never makes any paper easier for y/n - making her get out of her comfort zone and try as hard as she can

but he would never let her push herself too hard - whenever they were on a mission together, while he would step aside to let her fight her battles, he would always be 2 steps behind her

watching her back and letting her make her own mistakes, but would immediately step in and protect her if she falters, making sure that she is not hurt

whether she was or not, though, he would let her whine and give her a piggyback ride back to the car after their mission, grumbling the entire way as she giggled and happily kicked her feet

he definitely has snacks on him all the time because of how many calories he needs to eat to keep up his physique, so he would so pick up her favourite snacks and keep them on him

whenever the Kyoto school visits, he makes sure to keep an extra eye on Todo - not to prevent him from chatting her up, but more so, he can film the interaction and send it to Yuta with no extra message

he lives for the drama. he knows y/n and yuji are the two who keep up to date with everything that is happening, and would always ask them for updates whenever he can

"so Maki punched a guy just because he looked at her weird? ...Did she at least break his nose?"

demands for a plate of food whenever y/n is on cooking duty. i headcanon that he can burn water if you let him, so yuji does most of the cooking. but he loves y/n's cooking a little more

always gets her to order an extra seasonal drink for him - no matter how glittery or pink the drink is, he is going to order it

if he is going to spend money on a drink, he is ordering the most flamboyant one. and no one dares to question him for it

late night snack run buddies - just a single text ('snacks?') and the two of them would be dressed in their coats and shoes, both of them making their way to the nearby convenience store as they

the two of them, plus yuji are avid game chasers - would be those people who sleep outside a shop to get their hands on a copy of a game on launch day

then they would stay up for at least 2 days just finishing the game together, and everyone hates it because it would be silent before the three idiots start screaming from the adrenaline they are feeling at a boss fight scene

sukuna has style. so y/n and him definitely go thrifting and shopping together in harajuku. definitely had pictures taken of them about their outfits

basically he is a softie behind a very frostie character - but he does have strong love for his students. but he definitely has a favourite, and it is not at all secret that it is y/n

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© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[thejohnlockedfemboy]

HIHIHIHIHIHI

you’re my new friend now (joking but also please I need more tumblr friends tumblr beings r cool)

saw you like Greek myths, opinions on PJO? (please don’t say that everything in PJO is a lie because certain bits aren’t to the point truthful to the myths. Aeolus is a woman in Epic. That doesn’t make it entirely a lie. This has happened before.)

I will FOREVER cherish PJO for getting me into Greek mythology!!! Rick puts so much amazing representation and diversity in his books while reclaiming overused tropes ( smart girl x dumber boy, enemies to friends to lovers, friends to enemies, ect ) while also being educational 🥹

and while some parts of PJO are definitely for the plot, it doesn’t need to be 100% accurate because every. single. greek. myth. has SO many interpretations and versions to the point where there is no “true” versions ^^ I also love how PJO explores topics like the ethics of child soldiers ( the romans, for example ), abuse of authority ( Octavian ), how ‘good’ people can be corrupted ( Luke ), how adultery can harm more than just the cuckold or cuckquean ( how Hera goes after Zeus’ children and mistresses ), feminism and escaping domestic v*olence ( sally using Medusa’s head to turn smelly gabe to stone ) and healing from the trauma of that ( her finding happiness with Paul Blofis ), how even gods are not infallible and need to be held accountable for their actions ( shitty parent olympians ), found family ( the prophecy seven but also the og trio of Percy, Annabeth, and Grover ) and sacrifice for the greater good ( Beckendorf we will never forget you )

sorry this sort of turned into an essay 😭🙏 I love analyzing works/fandoms I’m into. Also I’m totally up for being friends, you seem really cool and OMG the confidence you have to be able to message someone first like HOW— I could never ( I mean this positively and not sarcastically, I promise )

Rick basically nurtured an entire new generation of kids being fed directly off of Harry Potter, and he’s just such a sassy and down-to-earth guy. He wrote the stories for his kid, like so many authors, and then it somehow grew into a worldwide phenomenon with two movies ( we don’t talk about those hisssss boooooo hissss ) and a show that’s already been renewed for a season three, just to name a bit, and yet he still caters towards his audience and gives us the content we want to see.

Also, since the gods and goddesses are technically deities and not physical beings ( unless they choose to take on a mortal or animal form ), they’re myth-canonically genderfluid. For example, Athena took the form of “Mentor” ( old dude who guided Telemachus ) in the Odyssey, and Dionysus was raised as a girl in one version of his mythos. Gods and goddesses might take one gendered form or the other or something in-between ( like how Chaos isn’t defined into a body ). So Aoleus being VA’d by a woman/being portrayed as fem isn’t too much of a stretch for me :3

[astrid-lundquist]

"Sure it isn't," she hummed, her smile very clearly smug. Astrid was well aware what looks of longing looked like, having worn one for a century herself. "You'd be surprised what happens when you get someone in your arms."

~~~~

Nari’s brow furrowed a little at the stranger but ended up letting out a slightly nervous sounding laugh, assuming perhaps she had just had too much to drink already and was being over friendly— how else could she come out with such nonsense. “With respect, you don’t know me and I don’t know you,” Nari replied, “But I’m guessing you know Artus?” Or maybe she was just a stranger making bold assumptions. “He’s just trying to help me do new things and I like spending time with a friend.”

~~~~

"I may not know you, but I know of you," she countered. He was as grumpy as one might have expected. "That is very cute. The two of you are cute together." Astrid never held her tongue. In fact, she said things with even more confidence the more they were pushed back against. "I'm Astrid. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

~~~~

The woman’s tone made it seem like whatever she had heard about him, she didn’t necessarily like. “Really? From the tone of your voice it doesn’t sound like that’s a good thing.” Nari said, deciding to voice his thoughts. “We’re not together.” He corrected again, “We’re just here together.” Nari huffed, “Astrid… hi. I’m Nari, though I assume you already know that somehow.”

~~~~

"It's a good thing. In fact, the grumpier you get, the cuter you are," she replied, giving him a wink. "Relax. I'm not going to eat you. Artus told me he wanted to introduce me to a friend. I assumed you were more than a friend, but I'm a sucker for a love story, what can I say."

~~~~

“I—“ Nari began, flushing slightly. So, this had been the friend and owner of the club that Artus had been telling him about. Suddenly, Nari wished he hadn’t been quite so defensive and had just held his tongue this whole time. Nari exhaled, “I’m sorry I was on the defence, but we really are just friends. Artus felt something for me years ago, but that’s not the situation now… so, no love story.” He promised her, letting his gaze briefly wander to the younger elf again.

~~~~

Seeing his face flush, she grinned wider. He was definitely a cutie, Artus made a good find with this one. "Sure, if you say so," she hummed, turning to look out at the dance floor. "Then why does he keep looking over here when he's dancing with someone else?"

~~~~

Nari averted his gaze away from Artus and back to Astrid, “I don’t know, maybe because he’s over there wondering what you could be saying about him?” Nari paused to lift a somewhat accusing brow at her, before he relaxed, “He’s been dating someone else, he’s moved on and I’m happy that he has. He needs someone that’s not me.” Nari insisted, exhaling a breath as he poked at the decoration in his cocktail glass. “Maybe if the timing had been different.” Now the cocktail had him thinking aloud, and that was all the more reason to swiftly finish the last part of it before he opened his mouth again.

~~~~

Astrid eyed him curiously. She had heard similar sentiments from others before, and some in regards to her own grumpy lover. As he continued, her interest was piqued. Even though Nari was saying he thought the other elf had moved on, he was saying things like he hoped he wasn't. "You know you can have more than one person in your heart, right?"

~~~~

“I do know that, thank you.” Nari replied, trying not to be too snippy for Artus’ sake if this was one of his friends, but why did demons always think it was there given right to poke around where they didn’t belong? Perhaps he was being unreasonable. Still, it was cause enough to luckily catch the bartenders attention in amongst the mass of other people waiting to be served at the bar. A demon bar miracle. “Another one of these please.” Nari slid the glass forwards. “He is in my heart. Just not in that way.”

~~~~

She ordered herself a drink too, leaning against the bar as she watched him with interest. "Oh, so you wouldn't be bothered if he started kissing that man he's dancing with?" Soon, their drinks arrived and she took a sip of hers as she watched him.

~~~~

“No, of course not, he’s entitled to do whatever he likes.” Nari replied, waving his hand in dismissal. Sometimes the elf had to remind himself that what he remembered of intimacy and romance with Artus was that of a dream, a reflection of a potential future that never happened, that was all. One Artus subsequently knew nothing about. “The same way I’m sure Artus wouldn’t care if I did.”

~~~~

He sure was stubborn, but Astrid loved a challenge and a chance to be right. "What if I kissed you? You don't think he'd come over here to try to 'save' you?" At some point, she was sure Artus would return to Nari's side, whether she gave him a reason to or not.

~~~~

“You don’t have to be in love with someone to want to save them.” Nari pointed out, “And I think the only reason he would be over here is because we both know we’re not each other’s type.” Nari gave her a knowing look, “Is this the conversation you have with all new patrons, or am I the only one with the honour?” Their drinks arrived and Nari found himself grateful for it once again.

~~~~

"You're no fun, huh?" she mused, though it didn't dampen her spirit in the slightest. Deciding to spice things up a bit, she tapped into her emotion magic, keen to feel what he was really feeling underneath his tough exterior. "I wouldn't say you're the only one," she replied with a cheeky grin as she took another sip of her drink. "So, what do you think of my club?"

~~~~

Clearly, his quest to be fun wasn’t working in this particular moment. Perhaps he was destined to be a grumpy old soul. “I’m just pointing out something you must know to be true.” The elf shrugged, “Well, at least it’s not a personal victimisation.” He added, glancing around them at the dancing figures, those lost in conversation and flirtation at the bar, “I can’t say I have too much to compare it to, but it’s… loud?” He laughed faintly, mostly at himself, “The drinks are good, people seem to be having a good time. That’s as far as I’ve got so far. Are you going to tell me what I should be doing for the rest of the evening as well as examining my non existent love life?” He asked her. He didn’t seem to notice any magic being used, perhaps because of the large amount of different energies in the club, though she may have felt some loneliness, a bubbling longing and desire hidden somewhere beneath the surface, a little ache in his heart that wasn’t sure why it ached, confusion.

~~~~

She didn't expect him to be the biggest nightclub fan, but she was glad he was enjoying it in his own way. "No, I'd rather just see how long you'll survive on your own," she teased. She recognised the feelings that radiated from him, having felt many of them herself. "But you know, you don't have to just stand here waiting for him to come back. You could go up to him. Even if you don't dance, you can steal him back."

~~~~

“I’ll survive.” Nari told her, the conversation seeming to make him all the more determined that he wasn’t going to make this evening a complete self inflicted sulk-fest. “Are we still on this?” He asked her, “I appreciate that this is probably the perfect hunting ground for you and maybe playing Cupid feeds into that, but that’s not what this is, I assure you.” Nari insisted. Though perhaps the idea of having Artus’ attention all to himself was appealing, but that was a very selfish part of him that thought that, a very confused part. Nari took another sip from his cocktail, “Are there other levels to the club?” He chose to distract himself instead. He shouldn’t go over, he should just let Artus be.

~~~~

"You sure? Because it's my club, and I know my clientele very well." She lifted her drink glass, turning it between her fingers. "Besides, demons have emotion magic and I can feel just how much Artus would rather be dancing with you." Astrid wondered if he would realise she would feel his emotions too, but it was fun for her whether he did or not. "There are some small rooms upstairs with house music if that's more your vibe. I think it might be."

~~~~

“Well then I’m afraid your touch is slipping, and I’m not your usual clientele.” Nari told her stubbornly, however, her next words did catch him noticeably off-guard. He swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat and felt his heart thump a little faster, unable to help a small glance towards the dance floor. “Even if that is true, a preference of dance partner doesn’t mean anything.” Nari told her, “He probably wants to see if I can blend in to this century, is all.” Nari paused, not wanting to admit to her that he didn’t have a clue what house music was. “If you say so.” The second cocktail was going down swiftly and apparently the sight of someone’s hands becoming exploratory against Artus’ body was enough for him to empty it. “So, you said you have a partner. Would I know them?”

~~~~

She didn't need to feel his emotions to see his reaction to her words. "It does when they dance like that," she replied, glancing back over at the younger elf. Nari's drink was suddenly empty and Astrid made a small wave for the bartender, who brought him another cocktail. Maybe with some more liquid courage, his jealousy would encourage him into action. "You should, he's on the council with you. His name is Ursa." She knew Ursa got along well with the elves, having been one himself eons ago. "He was a lot like you, ignoring obvious signs of affection and brushing them off."

~~~~

Astrid’s words only caused him to double take what he had already seen on the dance floor, they certainly weren’t holding themselves back when it became to getting familiar with one another, but that just further cemented that Artus had moved on from him. Then why had Astrid said Artus was thinking of Nari? Probably because she’s a demon and it’s in their nature to meddle, especially when it comes to meddling in people’s emotions. They’re manipulative and they do it with ease, Nari told himself, it doesn’t mean anything. “I think you have your wires crossed, it’s very clear where his attentions lie and that’s perfectly fine with me.” Another drink suddenly arrived without his say-so, but he found himself grateful for it all the same. “Ursa,” Nari replied with surprise, “I see.” He breathed a laugh, “you’re really not planning on letting this go any time soon, are you?” The elf planned to divert the conversation anywhere away from him. “So, how did you get together, then? If he was so intent on ignoring your affections?”

~~~~

He was still so stubborn and Astrid couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I'm just trying to make it easier for the two of you so you don't spend decades misunderstanding each other, but if you want to miss out, that's your choice." Despite his arguments, he took the new drink without any questions or complaints. "Nope," she hummed, letting the P sound pop. This time, her smile was a little sweeter, softer and sincere. Even becoming a demon didn't stop her from being a sucker for love.

"I'm not sure. I think he finally realised how much time he had wasted pushing me away. He was suddenly so affectionate and sweet at Christmas and then we told each other I love you and the rest is history." Life was so much better now that she and Ursa were on the same page emotionally and she wasn't struggling to express her love for him. "Life is a lot better when it's filled with love."

~~~~

Nari didn’t quite know what to say. She was certainly persistent, perhaps that’s what made her such a prominent member of her species. Relentless might have been a better word. “I just… don’t know if that’s in the cards for us. Maybe if I had realised how he felt about me earlier on, or we’d just managed to somehow align ourselves, it could have been, but— if something was meant to be, it would be. It wouldn’t be difficult or a fight for time to allow it. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever bickered with someone as easily as I seem to with Artus.” God, either she had caused something to make him confess his inner thoughts or the third cocktail was having the desired effect. “A demon in love, how sweet.” It wasn’t snarky this time, Nari didn’t hate love, after all. Even if it was between underworld beings. “So, you’re still in the new stages then? That’s always a good stage.” Nari smiled.

~~~~

Suddenly, it seemed like Nari was relaxing and opening up, causing Astrid to relax as well. "Nothing in life is ever easy, no matter how long a person lives." She didn't feel like she wanted to push him anymore. Instead, she wanted to encourage and support him. "That just shows how close you are, to bicker like that and still be friends."

Thinking about Ursa always made her feel warm, her smile soft and sweet now. "It's a good stage. He'd been sad for so long, I want to be able to do everything I can to make him happy. He deserves that, after everything he's done for me."

~~~~

“I suppose that’s something we can actually agree on. I don’t know.” Nari admitted solemnly, exhaling a breath, he didn’t know how he felt and it was all a little too confusing to deal with. “I guess. We could have argued almost five seconds into arriving here. It was only because I decided to hold my tongue on what I really thought that we didn’t. Maybe I’m the one that’s argumentative.” He huffed another breath through his nose, before bringing another sip of the cocktail to his mouth, “That’s sweet.” It had been a long time since he’d felt that all-encompassing, sparkling new love kind of feeling, that had you thinking of nothing else in the world. “I haven’t felt that in a long time. Five hundred years kind of long.” He mumbled the last part, the look in his eyes changing when he noticed across Astrid’s shoulder, Artus and his dance partner locked in a kiss. Nari cleared his throat, “Hey, do you think you could get me anything stronger than this?” He pursed his lips. “Like anything.”

~~~~

The turmoil coming off of him left her heart feeling tight for him. "Why did you choose to keep your thoughts to yourself?" She asked, wanting more insight. What could they have possibly had to argue about? "I know that feeling. It took a century for us to get to this point. It was a long century. I do not recommend it."

The light and warm mood between them suddenly went cold and she turned to look at what had caused it. Oh, the poor boy had it bad. Immediately, she was waving down the bartender. "Kairi. Tequila shots, stat." In what felt like an instant, shot glasses were set in front of them on the counter and top shelf tequila was filling each one. Astrid picked one up to take with him, in solidarity. She would have likely been in the same state if she was in his shoes.

~~~~

“Because I didn’t want us to end up arguing, again. I can’t stand to see that look on his face again because of something I’ve done or said, but sometimes I just—sometimes he just puts himself into danger where it’s not even necessary. I don’t know why he wants that.” Nari answered, unsure why he was confessing his inner most thoughts to a total stranger, but maybe that was the point of a nightclub. “I might not have a century…” Nari answered with brutal honesty, “But, you have him now. And I’m guessing he was worth the long wait?”

Nari tried not to think about whether this was just another step into his late midlife crisis and was relieved when the tray of shots arrived. Well, he certainly couldn’t remember the last time this had been a reality… if it had ever been. The elf picked up one honey coloured shot and drank it quickly, keeping his eyes shut for a moment. “That’s disgusting.” He managed to say in a dignified manner, though somehow still seemed pleased by its effect.

~~~~

"I think arguing because you're worried about someone is a valid reason to argue." At least it seemed like it would be. Everyone needed someone to look out for them, and Nari seemed to be doing that for Artus. "Then now's the time to try again. The worst that can happen is you just don't fall in love." They needed to fall in love first to have the heartbreak. "He was, but he has a lot of time to make up for now."

Astrid downed her shot, thankfully in time for Nari's reaction. She burst into laughter. "You wanted something strong." Grabbing a lime wedge from behind the counter, she held it out to him.

~~~~

“I suppose.” Nari half-heartedly agreed. Whatever it did or didn’t mean, the moment had passed them by now, but Nari was almost certain they’d end up in the same position again at some point. “I know that,” He admitted, “I’ve been attempting to be a little less focused on the end and more making the most of what’s here now. But… it’s taking some practice.” The elf paused, glad to have the conversation off him for even just a moment. Astrid, coupled with the alcohol, had certainly done their job in getting him to admit all his sins. “What has he been doing to make it up to you?” He asked. Nari genuinely did like a good romance story, it was what had him watching so many period dramas.

Nari laughed a little himself at the demons reaction. “I know, but I forgot that tequila tastes like someone emptied an ash tray in your mouth and you paid for privilege.” He shook his head, but gratefully took the lime and sucked it, glad of the change of flavour. “Thanks.” Nari could feel the warmth spreading in his chest, the tell-tale signs of alcohol taking control, but he didn’t mind it. In fact, it was nice to feel maybe a little less in control for once. “Speaking as a friend, I feel like Artus could get someone hotter than him anyway.”

~~~~ "Well, anytime you need help making the most of you, you can give me a call. I promise to be gentle, no bar hopping and hitting the clubs til 4 in the morning." It wasn't often she felt this relaxed around someone, letting down her guard and seeing aside the confident mask she wore. "Going along with all my stupid plans, and giving into my desires whenever they strike mostly. Honestly, most of the time I just curl up in his arms and won't let him leave."

She laughed again, finding the description he gave to be quite apt. She much preferred cocktails when she was drinking. "You know, you're pretty hot yourself. You could be that hotter man," she replied, unable to keep herself from encouraging him.

~~~~

“This might be the alcohol talking and you may well be walking me in to some sort of demon contract, but I might take you up on that. The offer, not the contract.” Nari replied, his lips curving to a small smile. He genuinely didn’t know if she was being genuinely friendly or not, but at the very least the alcohol was making him hope she was being genuine. Nari tilted his head as he listened to her, “That’s actually really cute.” He replied, “Who knew Ursa liked to cuddle…”

Nari laughed, “I don’t know about that. But thank you, I guess. That’s not usually a word people describe me with.” He chuckled, “But we’ve been through this… I’m not going over there. And— apparently… I’m definitely not needed there anyway.” He added, unable to help noticing that Artus and the man Nari had been unnecessarily offensive to, were currently disappearing off into the crowd together. “See. We are two entirely different people.” Nari muttered, perhaps choosing to be bitter because he was hurt. “And I’m supposed to be the one not going anywhere.” He exhaled, picking up another shot, “Should we do another?”

~~~~

"No contract, promise." She didn't need to trick him into a contract. She was genuinely enjoying talking to him at the moment. She glanced over her shoulder before turning back to him. "I think this calls for another," she agreed, taking a shot and tapping it against the bartop before drinking it.

Nari lifted his head at the unfamiliar voice, about to reply when she told him he should have asked Artus to dance first. “Oh, no. It’s not like that, we’re just friends. And I’m not sure I’m much of a dancer by this periods time standards.” There was a faint laugh. But she wasn’t entirely wrong, perhaps he was feeling a little lonely and maybe it would have been nice if it had been him dancing.

[queen0fm0nsterz]

So, (sits down at the table) (lights up cigarette) are we all ready to discuss how Six's lack of gender conformity in the beginning of the franchise can be read not only as an expression of her nonbinary identity but also an inherent refusal of what their assigned gender requires of her, which is why they are put in contrapposition with the Lady, whose name and role is inherently tied to her identity as a woman, and by refusing to abide to that standard Six challenges not only the structure of the Maw but also the basic concept on which the Lady based her entire life and identity on

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[sananaryon]

Last reblog on this particular post cause it's getting long, feel free to send asks if you wanna know more I always love talking about this<3

But to answer these questions

She can't control lava if that's what you mean (well she can in the sense that lava is a physical object she can throw around with telekinesis, but the same applies to everything else), but lava does tend to show up around her just by virtue of her using her powers. cause rock melts.

Her power is really more in the domain of Heat than necesarrily fire, as in when she's using her powers things around her start melting. Fire just comes of that naturally. She doesn't do anything to the planet's core when she scorches a planet, unless she's physically ripping it apart.

Strength is a lot harder to keep under lock and key than Emotion, after all. I'll make something explaining it in detail, but Sasha losing her cool is what made the girls realize that their powers are much more than just super saiyan flying around, and Anne has been careful about exploring her boundraries since then. She has accepted that this is her life now, that does not mean she'll just hand the Core all of her powers on a silver platter and she's happy to hold back just on spite.

Marcy is alive, in a sense. But she never unlocked her powers so the body the Core is possessing is just a regular human woman, some transhumanist modification notwithstanding. That said even if she did unlock her powers, and the core got back control afterward, it still wouldn't be able to use them cause they're keyed to Marcy's mind and soul, and having her body is not enough.

you better believe that's a point of annoyance for the Core.

Everything you said about Anne, yes! I find the Calamity trio most interesting when they're all a toxic influence on each other. Anne at the start of the show, if you'll recall, is very much kind of a b*tch, and the core (heh) of their relationship in this au is that they've never worked through ANY of their issues, with present circumstances just making an existing problem worse.

A joke I have half a mind to illustrate is Luz asking the Core what it did to make Sasha and Anne so toxic, and the Core answering completely truthfully that they were like this since before it met them.

Anne could pretty much walk into a rebellion's headquarter without disguising herself just by making everyone too apathetic to notice or care that she's there.

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know. 

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you. 

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold. 

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room. 

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded. 

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × × 

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder. 

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back. 

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question. 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways. 

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips. 

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance. 

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more. 

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself. 

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer. 

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality. 

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin. 

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile. 

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear. 

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength. 

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × × 

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house. 

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him. 

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door. 

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside. 

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh. 

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else. 

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore. 

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm. 

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back. 

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes. 

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × × 

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh. 

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm. 

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually. 

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. 

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room. 

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch. 

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you. 

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile. 

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets? 

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip. 

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure. 

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little. 

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still. 

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light. 

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.             

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep. 

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase. 

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words. 

“What’s that?”

“This.” 

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body. 

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply. 

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel  yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting. 

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front. 

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours  masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon  yourself to him. 

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours  while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you. 

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed  you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire. 

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside  you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.” 

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed  you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder. 

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy. 

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to  you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside  you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him. 

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- final part

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, possessive Gojo, oral sex (m and f receiving) road head, explicit sex, creampie, lil bit of choking, multiple positions, car blow jobs, FLUFFY and PURE SMUT actually, happy end to this lil thing, pretty woman vibes 🤭

<<<Part Five

Escort! Satoru was terrified of your answer, but when it's a soft - yes - everything fades but you. He's kissing you deeply, hungry, as he waits for the check, counting down the moments until he can bury his face against you. 'My place, this time, yeah sweetheart?' he whispers, and you nod eagerly, hand on his thigh now. 'One thing, Satoru, if you wanna date me? No more-' Satoru cuts you off, dragging you against him now. 'Never wanna touch anyone but you again, don't you know?'

Escort! Satoru didn't expect shy, sweet little you to torture his cock with teasing licks and flicks while he drives, he's swallowing nervously as you do, your teeth just nibbling on his tip, making him hiss. 'F-fuck... that mouth...' you exhale against him, making his hips jerk, and he's gripping that wheel far too tight. 'Gotta torture me for being a fucking idiot, huh?' he whispers, free hand entangling in your hair, you whine out softly, licking the little hole and lapping up his pre cum. 'Just a little bit, need something, Satoru?' he moans, head falling back when he's at a stop light. 'Stop teasing, lemme feel that throat -ah!'

Escort! Satoru has never moaned like that, whimpering in fact, while you suck him down in your hot mouth, he's so enthralled he gets honked at, earning your laugh when he drives again. Satoru shoves your head now, groaning as you take him deep. Your cunt is soaked, as he takes control, every speed bump just forcing his thick, pretty cock deeper down your throat, so many inches, such a stretch. You're sucking him deeper, hungrier, more desperate now, when finally he reaches his home, yanking you up and kissing you, tasting himself on your tongue. He pulls back and sees the tears from choking on him, and god you look fucking too pretty. 'Come on' his voice is hushed, hurried, and instead of holding your hand and dragging you, he has you picked up in his arms. You're giggling breathless when you ride up the elevator to his penthouse, kissing over and over.

Escort! Satoru doesn't make it much further than the two of you did in your home, you also don't even look around the dark living room as you stumble with him, clothes strewn while the two of you bare each other bit by bit, lips hardly leaving for breaths, until Satoru's down to his boxers, and you're in some fancy black lingerie that's killing him. He throws you eagerly on the bed, god he can't hardly drag his lips off yours now that they've landed there, you're too sweet, too yummy, as he devours them, his hands slipping across the lace of your bra, thumbs against your nipples that harden to the touch. 'mmm, can't stop kissing me, can you?' your whisper is met with him leaning up, sighing, fingers brushing against your cheek.

Escort! Satoru whispers then - 'I haven't kissed someone in years, but fuck I never regretted anything more than not kissing you that night' you pause, blinking emotions back then, you have to bite that lip as it trembles, leaving him to tug it gently from your teeth. 'Satoru, it's okay-' he cuts you off with a shake of his head, a kiss on your breast, his hand gliding to tug at the cup of your bra. 'No, I should have kissed you, held you, can you forgive me?' his eyes glimmer with his own regret, his own lonliness without you, his own hurt. You nod quickly, tears slipping down your cheeks and glimmering while he descends lower, your hands in his silken hair, feeling the thick strands between your fingers. 'Of course I do, mnh!'

Escort! Satoru nibbles on your ribcage now, the skin glistening with his saliva, illuminating teeth marks left. You gasp at it, while he reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with an expert move, releasing your pretty breasts that bounce gently, little marks of your lace decorating them. Satoru presses kisses to each mark, sighing, cock throbbing from you sucking him, from his desire. 'I fucking fell for you, and it scared me, shit I was so dumb....' his words run out before he can stop them, and you gasp in shock, he curses softly. 'You don't have to say it back, I know I-' you yank him up now, lips a breath from yours, cerulean gaze dancing across your face as his lids lower, and your heart pounds in your chest. 'Satoru, I fell for you too, I was so lonely before I met you, and I didn't even know' as your words reflect in his heart, he melts, hand entwined with yours. 'How-'

Escort! Satoru is cut off with a 'shh' and then your tongues dance once more, as he hungrily picks up your hips, grinding against your slick panties, you gasp as his cock presses against your cunt, already throbbing with need for him. 'please, please, in me' Satoru wouldn't deny you anything, ever again, he eases your panties down, pressing kisses across your pretty cunt, already drooling so much strings of your arousal stick to them as he pulls. 'fuck, I missed this' he's lapping at you now, even as you're yanking him up. 'lemme taste you, stop rushing me, sweetheart, dreamt of this' you ease a bit, taking a breath, brain still trying to compute that he is here, that he's saying things you dreamed off, eyeing you under his snowy lashes. 'Please, jus'let me enjoy your sweet little cunt' you nod then as he dives back down and licks to the point of obsession

Escort! Satoru drinks your cunt up like he's not had water in days and you're the source, lapping all the juices that pour, the sound of him drinking you is fucking filthy, the way his head shakes side to side, tongue obscene as it smacks against every bit of your cunt, inside, the clit, the lips, all of it. Nothing is missed by his lips, teeth, tongue, which now dances on your clit, all while he shoves your thighs up high, still in your stockings and garters. 'Satoru, c-can't again, t-too much!' you're sobbing out by the third orgasm, when he finally relents, fingertips having left bruises on the backs of your thighs. He inhales, licking his lower lip, looking fucking insane off you, drunk off you, watching how you tremble and shake, finally slipping off his boxers, cock springing out and slapping against you, hot and heavy, white precum sticking against your inner thigh.

Escort! Satoru leans over, opening the drawer, but you pause him as he grabs the gold foil packets, gripping his wrist, thumb pressed against his racing pulse. 'Satoru, is it against your rules to... cum inside me?' Satoru pauses, lips parted then, he surely is fucking dreaming, you under him asking for it raw, asking for him to bust and fill your pretty pussy? 'Shit, sorry um-' he throws them back in the drawer, closing it, leaning back over you and shaking his head slowly, sighing, cupping your face with one big hand. 'Sweetheart, you've gotten rid of every rule I've ever had, and I'd love to break this one for the first time' his tip is against your clit, teasing and making your hips jerk then. He has your thigh pressed up high against your body, watching your face as he slowly presses his tip in your hot, eager little cunt. 'Mnh!' your sweet cry ruins him, feeling you without a condom is even better than with, so good he'd do anything to feel it over and over again, letting out his own moan right with you. 'I'll give you anything you ask for, pretty, anything'

Escort! Satoru slides his cock in to the hilt, slamming your cervix and feeling every bit of your slick, gummy walls, the texture that grips his cock so fucking good. You're trembling, close already from how much he'd teased you with his mouth, nails pressing into his bare back as the fan above works to cool you both and fails. Satoru eases back, sliding back in with a sharp thrust, your tits bounce when he does, calling for a palm, a kiss, a lick, all while he fucks you so good you're fading in and out, on the brink of falling off the edge. 'Satoru!' as you cry his name out, he moans your name softly, pulling back now and watching the bulge move in your stomach, eliciting something feral, as he watches the slick gushing around his veiny length when he pulls out, almost to the tip, then shoves in again, watching your every expression. He watches your eyes roll back, your mouth open, drool spilling out that he swipes away, your brows drawing together as you scream for him, murmuring - 'so fucking beautiful'

Escort! Satoru has you cumming all over his cock, flipping you on your stomach then, a hand around your throat, squeezing just so. Long fingers are brushing aside your hair, his cock entering you from behind even deeper, whispering your name as he feels you, squeezing just a bit, thumb right over your pulse point. 'Want me to, sweetheart?' your little mewl and nod is his answer, urging him on to choke you while he pounds his cock in and out, your hips pressing your ass up for more, more, more, while you're fuzzy, lightheaded. Your hand grips his wrist, feeling the tendons as they squeeze, and when you're close again you grip him too fucking good, making him as dizzy as you, drunk off your every gasp, sigh, movement. 'Cum f'me, that's it, good girl' his words and his movements urge you, a silent scream while your cunt spasms around him, almost pushing him then and there, letting go of your throat so you can gulp a greedy breath

Escort! Satoru is about to break all of his perceived rules, no kissing, no cuddling, no fucking without a condom, now he's going to cum inside you, and fuck does he want to. 'ready for me to fill you so full of cum, huh?' you nod eagerly, neck sore, ears still ringing. You cling to him, a thigh hitched up, shoving his cock deep inside, then you feel it, hot spurts of his cock just pulsing, and shooting up into you, filling you with his hot, drippy white ropes, his whimper in your ear so sexy you never want to not hear it again, how he cries out your name, how he whispers he loves you as he keeps pumping, shaking over you, desperate and messy kisses across your shoulders while he feels your aftershocks. And you whisper your love declarations, while he grips you under your chin, kissing you to seal the intimacy of the moment, to let go of anything that ever held him back for you.

Escort! Satoru holds you close that night after cleaning you up so carefully, giving you one of his big dress shirts that swallows you to wear, holding you against his chest. He's stroking your hair as you snuggle against him, body exhausted from all of your exertions, smiling against his bare chest. Nothing has ever felt as perfect as being in his arms, and nothing has ever been as perfect as holding you in them. He contemplates out loud then - 'I need a change of employment, now you know. Any positions open?' you giggle at that, fingers drifting up and down his chest, still slick from sweat, hot skin underneath you. 'I don't really need you to work, you know' his brows rise, as a smirk runs across his face, 'oh no?' you nod, pressing a kiss on lips that once seemed unattainable. 'I can still be of service, you know' he says, dragging you on top of him then, your hands brace on his chest, as your hair falls to the side. 'Hmm, how so?'

'As your private escort, sweetheart, only yours'

this was such a fun mini project between all my stories, I'm glad you all enjoyed this reformed hoe who's bad at feelings, and our rich baddie CEO hehe! See you in the nexttt <3

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