#with ups and downs and when one person is going through something it affects the group in such a realistic way

[specialgradefckr]

Catching Strays

Satoru Gojo is rich. Obscenely so.

But he's also busy - too busy to have time to meet someone and go through all the song and dance of dating and having a relationship.

The hookups... even being a certified fantastic top tier lay, it's just not doing it for him anymore.

He wants that connection. The intimacy. The personal knowledge and inside jokes and soft affection that comes with a relationship.

And sure, some of it is on him. He's got a fun personality - jokes and jibes and little remarks that he really doesn't mean badly, but tend to be taken in certain ways.

("That's a lot of words to say I'm an asshole." His last potential date had snapped. "Even with a face like yours, people have standards. My life doesn't revolve around you.")

Really, he's nice when you get to know him! But he's also lonely, and bored, and every hobby he tries out never lasts more than a couple days.

It's hard, being as naturally talented and intuitive and as intelligent as him. Everything gets old so fast. It's all too easy.

Gets him wound up. He's got so much energy. And the one thing that never gets old to him? Other people.

So when he meets new people he can be sort of... overwhelming. Overly familiar. Annoying. Clingy.

(Okay, maybe he's a little bitter about how that last one. He'd offered to pay her bills! Why was she so worked up over her dumb career? He had way more money, and he was plenty generous with it!)

Lately, he's been toying with a different solution to his problems - hybrids.

They're like people, just basically as pets (which sounds a little messed up when he thinks about it, so he promptly stops thinking, and the problem goes away) - companions who can live with him, eat with him at mealtimes, cuddle up and even provide some intimacy.

That sort of thing is apparently frowned on, but who cares? It's not like he'd ever force anyone. One look at him and they'd be begging for it.

Do you ever think about anyone besides yourself? You're going to wake up alone one day, with no one to put up with your selfishness.

And besides, they'd live together! They'd become friends naturally!

Yeah... a pet would be great for a busy guy like him. Just some cute thing sitting and waiting for him at home, ready to jump on him as soon as he's back.

("Gojo, you barely take care of yourself. You think you can take care of another person?"

"Please, I've looked this up! Cat hybrids are especially independent. Come on, can't you see me with a cute little kitty curled up in my lap?"

"You're actually hopeless.")

Shoko doesn't know what she's talking about. He can be responsible, he simply chooses not to, because life is easier that way. But cats are easy to take care of!

He just has to find the right one. He's been to a couple shelters, but none of the hybrids there have spoken to him.

It's kitten season, apparently - they're really pushing the young ones on him. But Satoru, despite what Shoko thinks, is responsible. He's looking for something older, mature, able to take care of itself (and also consent).

And what does he see as he strolls through a less-wealthy part of town on his way to his favorite ramen shop?

A cute little stray, big pleading eyes and a sign saying "Anything Helps", tail curled up around you as you look up hopefully to passing strangers.

His heart squeezes a little at the sight. There's a small dish in front of you with a scattering of spare change.

Satoru stops, mid-stride, backing up and grinning down at you.

Looks like it's this kitty's lucky day.

So... it turns out it's not so simple to adopt a stray hybrid.

It's a little annoying. You're a sorry, scraggly thing, begging for scraps in a dingy side corner.

And yet you seem to take some kind of issue with his generous offer of adoption.

Satoru supposes he can forgive you for not trusting a stranger, but he brought you out for ramen! You sat with him for the whole meal! That's longer than ninety percent of his dates have tolerated him!

Deep down, some voice is echoing the same old taunts in different words.

Even a stray off the street doesn't want your company. The best you can do is bribe people to love you, and even with all your money, the love runs out quick.

Funny how the voice sounds a lot like his mother! When talking to his dad, of course. Not him. His parents both loved him.

They'd sent him to the most expensive schools, bought him all the latest and greatest of everything, gave him a penthouse and a vacation home as a graduation gift.

Only, it was sort of big for him to live in all by himself. Satoru tries explaining it to you, but you're reluctant for some reason.

It's hard to tell, between all your stammering and nervous trailing off. How you seemed to stare at him, distracted by his beauty.

Heh. He does get that a lot. But you're the cutest, sweetest, most darling creature he's ever laid eyes on, all pathetic and needy-eyed, and he's not going home without a kitty today.

"What do I have to do to make you come with me?" Satoru says it bluntly. "I have money. All the money you could ever want. You can eat bluefin tuna every day-"

"I eat the blue tunas all the time," You interrupt him eagerly, "The ones in the can!"

"Not those - it's - listen, just tell me you'll come back with me!" He really wants to take you home now. You're just too cute.

Your ears droop (oh my GOD it's so adorable), "I'm sorry, I... I don't know. I need to get back to my spot before Suguru comes looking for me."

A dark feeling seems to creep over him like a shadow. You have an owner? And he's making you beg out on the streets?

Well, you are a very convincing cutie. But Satoru doesn't support scam artists! He makes you eat canned tuna.

You do seem to be in relatively good condition, though, now that he takes a second look at you. No fresh cuts or bruises, not a scratch. Your clothes are worn and dirty but you're surprisingly well groomed otherwise.

"And you want to go back with him? I'm way richer," Satoru says, crossing his arms, looking down at you over his glasses.

"Oh, uh, Suguru is also a stray," You say sheepishly, tail swaying gently, "He's my friend. He takes care of me, I could never leave him behind."

Something twists in his chest. You didn't want to leave your friend - that was why.

One pet was already a reach for him, really. But taking in you both?

Give it up already. You're not capable of love. You aren't capable of caring about anyone besides yourself. You're selfish, and you're fine with it.

You'll die alone, Gojo.

He smiles at you, a wide, easy grin.

"I've got room for two."

[cherie-doll]

hello again!! i just wanted to askk, could i possibly request how the cod men would be with a self-conscious reader? :3 thank you for the curly-haired!reader hcs btw those were so cutesy!!

I hope u have a nice day/night <3 - 🦇

lol im back and yea ofc! (omg i finally wrote and posted something, EVERYONE CLAP)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Being Self-Conscious Around Them

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He notices that anytime you're out, you glance at your reflection in every mirror or window you appear in, you always regret doing it, and he notices it when you fix your hair to cover your face a little more, or bringing your hoodie over your head

He switches the shopping bags he was using both hands to carry to only one hand, with his now free hand he brings an arm over you and pulls you into him, tucking you into his side

And when you look up at him, a soft breath condensing in the cold air as it escapes your lips, he just smiles warmly and reassuringly at you

His voice, low but thickly as he says your name, wanting your utmost attention, and your eyes find his, in the quietude of the street on that evening you did not turn to glance at your reflection again

It is easy to worry endlessly, to get lost in your thoughts of how people see you, of being aware of every flaw someone could see in you, but you're once again reminded why for one person in the world who's always by your side sees past them

Ghost

Sometimes it is very subtle things you don't like about yourself, not always easy to perceive or notice, but he notices how you feel, the way you carry yourself is different, maybe your shoulders a little more hunched as you try to hide

He doesn't say anything, but he knows something like holding your hand extra tight will have your spinning mind grounded again when you're in public

A chaste but rare peck on your forehead when you get home as he detangles from your fingers and walks off, leaving you surprised but feeling warm inside for it

He knows he's not the best at providing comfort, the man himself uses a balaclava every time he goes out, the real reason for wearing it still unknown but you could say he's just gotten used to not showing his face, so he can't exactly tell you to not hide or turn away if he himself does it

Still, he wanted to give you something to lean on, anything to give you a little bit of reassurance

Soap

He doesn't see why you would be so self-conscious, he loves everything about you, why wouldn't you too?

To be honest, he's never cared that much about his appearance, and he may not exactly be the best when it comes to words, but he's trying

He wants to show you that you shouldn't shy away from him, that he will continue to show you love even if you're hesitant and overly aware of yourself, to not let it get to you or affect how you treat one another

He hates hearing you say negative things about yourself, even if you're just pointing them out, because he truly doesn't see the flaws you think are there, he looks up at you endearingly as he kneels down, his hands on your hips as he tells you about how he first fell for you

And God, you can't get him to shut up once he starts, you'll be laughing and telling him he can stop now, that you get the point he's trying to make, but he refuses to stop talking, you will listen to hear him go on for at least another 30 minutes

Gaz

Those days where your self confidence isn't the best suck :(, especially if you feel like nothing else is really going right and on top of that you just don't feel your best

Kyle would just sense that something is off when you walk through the door, he looks up from where he's sitting and just the sight of him makes you rush into his arms the moment he opens them for you

He'd hold you as he gently strokes your hair, which has a most calming effect on you, making your brain go quiet, feeling how soft his fingertips are against your scalp as they gently caress between strands of hair, it is during this that he asks if there's anything bothering you, since it's been a while since you've had a deep conversation

Feeling like nothing can hold you back, the streams of words just flows, and he's there to only nod and listen as he wishes he could clutch you tighter to his chest and heal everything inside of you, it hurts him to see you like this

But after you've poured everything out to him, he hums quietly and parts from you a little, you raise your head to meet his eyes in confusion

"You really think that?" and he gives the most loving and adoring look you've ever seen him give you it just melts you from the inside

Roach

Honestly, he'd sulk noticing how much it affects you, because he loves the confident you, how charming you are when you hold your head high not letting the thoughts swarming in the murky waters of your mind get to you

He knows he might not be able to change how you perceive yourself, but he can try his best to offer his comfort, maybe you're lying in bed, trying to make peace with the thoughts inside your head, and here comes your boyfriend/husband to climb into bed with you

Slowing making his way towards you like a cat seeking attention, resting his head on your lap as he stares up at you with dreamy eyes admiring you, and you can't ignore him, you take his face in your hands and feel the urge to aggressively love him

His soft smile reminding you of how much he loves you, it momentarily makes you forget about everything, you've been too engrossed in your thoughts you forgot about the person who could erase your doubts even if it was for a moment

The tenderness in his eyes when he murmurs "I love you"

Alejandro

Alejandro is the best at excessive flattery, he does not pass up a moment to tell you how good you look, the problem is that's what he thinks, you're more worried about what your mind has to say and what others might think too

No matter how far down you try to push your thoughts, they just keep finding a way to resurface and make you feel awful, why do you even care so much? It feels like you should, everyone else feels so natural, you want to feel normal for once

Seeing how distressing it can be for you to the point you avoid certain things, Alejandro decides to take matters into his own hands

Telling you, "Who cares what anyone else thinks? It's what you and I think, and no matter what, I still feel the same way", you already know he'd go through extreme measures just to have you feeling like the luckiest person alive, everyone should be envying you for having what you have and you should look and feel it too

Rudy

You're always asking him, "How do I look?" and he will always answer with a smile and "You're beautiful cariño" except you don't believe it, especially when you asked for his jacket, you're not even cold but suddenly you don't like how you feel in your outfit, maybe the people passing by are snickering or laughing or noticing that there is something wrong with you

You just want to turn around and go back home where you can be at peace without the fear of judgement, but Rudy stops for a moment, sensing right away how you feel and asking if you really want to, he could take you back home and instead choose to do something else for the night

You nod yes and he doesn't hesitate in rearranging his plans, he centers his life around you anyways, and he'd rather take a raincheck for any other night than make you feel uncomfortable, he just cares endlessly about you

But he wishes he could find a way to make you see you like he does

Phillip Graves

Waiiitt I've literally entertained the idea of this with him before ;)

You staring into the mirror, unsatisfied with yourself until you're approached by Phillip from behind, him wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his head onto your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you laugh softly

But he notices that sad look behind your eyes, your furrowed brows

No matter how much you try to bring it up to him, he will not let you get more than a sentence in before shaking his head, he doesn't want you to express anymore of those negative feelings, knowing that if you started you'd just go on until you started crying

He'd have you meet his gaze through the mirror, making you stare deep into his beautiful blue eyes asking if you truly trust him, if you nod yes, he'll tell you how he truthfully finds every part of you attractive, how alluring you've been from the first moment he laid eyes on you and how you should discard other people's thoughts

"You truly are the most stunning thing I've ever seen"

Makarov

He did find it strange how you'd gradually become quiet the longer you were around people, and then when you came back home you'd immediately go to the mirror and smile and practice different facial expressions in front of it

When he asks you what you're doing, you simply wave him away, you're only trying to see what you looked like when you were talking to people, did you really look like that? And suddenly you notice other things

Until you're convinced you shouldn't really smile so wide or talk so much, but all it takes is Makarov and his rare tenderness to make you forget about it and feeling good again

He sees no blemishes on you, and you allow yourself to tell you whatever he wants as he drags you away from the mirror and pulling you into bed with him, spooning you, whispering into your ear how you're better than all those insufferable leeches anyways

And for the next time you're getting ready, you receive a questionable amount of compliments from the help Makarov keeps around the house, did he tell them to do that?

Keegan

Keegan wouldn't have known you were being self-conscious around him if it weren't for the fact that you started changing when you were alone, you no longer let him stare at you too long, afraid he'd see something he wouldn't like

You were always trying to turn away or cover yourself if he came into a room when you weren't dressed, yelling at him to get out, except he doesn't care and ignores you anyways as he settles into bed or he holds your hands so you can't cover your face when he leans in closer to get a look at your face

"Hey, don't hide from me" as he turns you to face him, his eyes impossible to part from as he stares deeply into yours, trying to find that fear so deeply rooted in you and pull it out, no one should reach this low, and he'd be a damn fool to let it get to you

He wouldn't want to lose you to this disquietude

König

He very much understands and notices when you're feeling self-conscious, he often feels it too, awkward and unsure of himself when around others, with you though, he forgets about that feeling entirely

Obviously, he's going to do something when you're starting to feel like that, first thing is searching for a place where there is less people, the air gets heavy rather quickly when there are too many people which only makes things worse especially if there's a crowd of people

Doesn't really say much as you both settle into a bench, he's not even sure you noticed that he did it intentionally, he kind of fiddles with his hands nervously but he sits there for a moment, watching the scenery with you, until you lean into him

He's surprised but welcomes it, bringing an arm around your shoulder, "König?" and he responds with a hum, "Do you think... other people think I'm weird?"

Seriously? That's what you were worried about? As if his entire being hasn't always been clumsy and sheepish when around others, yet he still somehow managed to bag you, he snorts, if you're weird he can't imagine what word would be used to describe him

Horangi

He might not fully understand the anxiety that comes with feeling like everyone is constantly watching and judging everything you do or how you look, if anything he quite enjoys the feeling of having eyes on him, especially yours

But he notices how whenever he stares at you a little too long to the point you notice, your reaction gradually shifts from giving a timid and bashful smile to full on embarrassed, he doesn't understand, you're deserving of attention, so why don't you enjoy it?

You do end up explaining how much it bothers you, but there's a long list of things you're always taking notice of, isn't it weird how you walk? Don't you tend to look around too much at people? Is it only you who has an awkward interaction with someone every single time you go out? It's only you, right?

Again, he had never taken notice of these things, seeing as he's learned to take pride in how he carries himself and how he does things, he tells you people don't actually care, no one pays attention long enough to notice

Which is unfortunate really, why doesn't anyone else ever notice that spark in your eye, or that distinctive mark on you? Such a pity no one will ever get to look at you like how he does, maybe he's lucky because he has you all to himself

Nikto

He doesn't even notice what you're constantly worrying about, you've overlooked every scar of his, so why would you ever feel the need to worry about how others perceive you? Especially when it comes to him? It's not unusual of him anyways, you have to point things out for this guy to even take notice of

He sees you staring into the mirror and thinks nothing of it, sees you pull your shirt down every time you sit and again dismisses it, sees you looking uncomfortable when pictures are being taken, fine with him he hates them too

Until you're up at night thinking and he's in bed next to you ready to rest until your voice comes out shaky, frail as if on the verge of tears asking if he really even likes you

Needless to say, he's confused, tired and only grunts in response as he pulls you, snaking an arm around your waist and trapping you in his arms, when you try to move he just shushes you and tells you to sleep

You go to sleep not knowing he's still awake, staring gently at you as he caresses your hair

[witchywithwhiskey]

hiiiii, it's asreadbyaj, wanting to participate in your sweethearts game. You know how much I'm obsessed with your toxic Bucky series so naturallyyyyy I had to pick Mr. Barnes and the sweetheart "Crazy 4 You." If that prompt's already picked, however, I'll go with "You Wish"

it's kind of a funny story

pairing: divorced neighbor!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you get back early from a work trip, happy to see your cat alpine, but a little sad to have no one else to come home to. things change, though, when you discover your neighbor in your bed doing something very inappropriate...

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), unspecified age gap, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), face-sitting, masturbation (m and f), cock warming, brief pussy spanking, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, accidental voyeurism, tit worship, nipple play, large cock, marking, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation kink, pet names (bunny, baby), aftercare, happy ending, both reader and bucky are big pervs

word count: 8.5k

a/n: ahh AJ, you were the first person to send in Bucky Barnes and i just knew i had to use this tweet as inspiration for the prompt. i also liked the idea of Alpine belonging to reader and Bucky coming to adopt the cat by getting together with reader. also sorry this is so long, i just had so much fun writing these two!! 🫣 anyway thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

A happy, chirping meow greeted you as soon as you pushed inside your apartment. The ball of white fluff lounging in a spot of golden, late afternoon sunshine rose and darted toward you, winding around your legs. 

Despite your exhaustion from your trip, a soft smile curved your lips. You dropped your bags and bent down to scratch between the ears of the white furball that lived in your apartment—also known as your cat, Alpine.

“Hello, sweet girl,” you cooed at her, scooping up her fluffy body and pressing kisses all over her furry face. Alpine’s expression was partly aggrieved, no doubt angry that you’d gone away again, and partly indulgent of your love.

Truthfully, you were just as aggravated about your time away as Alpine. Your job had you travelling more and more, despite the role purporting to be work-from-home, and each time you returned to your apartment, you couldn’t help but be reminded that Alpine was the only one there to greet you.

In the comfort of your own space, you could admit to yourself that it would’ve been nice to have a person to come home to—a man who’d happily shower you with just as much affection as you were showing Alpine. A man who’d help you with your bags and then wrap you up in his arms and kiss the exhaustion from your lips.

Of their own volition, and as they often did, your thoughts strayed to Bucky Barnes. 

The divorced man had moved into the apartment immediately below yours a little over two years ago, having split from his wife and needing his own space. He was older than you—too old for you to have anything so banal as a crush on him. And yet, you often found yourself thinking about Bucky Barnes. 

His brown hair was a little too long, and messily swept back from his face in the way of someone who frequently ran their hands through it. The scruff on his jaw was a little too thick, like he was constantly forgetting to shave but refused to commit to a full beard. His blue eyes were bright and sharp, but more often than not, they were framed with dark circles like he didn’t get enough sleep. 

Bucky Barnes was a bit of a mess, but he was handsome in a way that made your heart beat a little faster in your chest and a low warmth begin to simmer in your body whenever you passed him on the stairs and got a whiff of his cologne. It was spicy and earthy and you wanted to bury your face in his neck and inhale deeply, certain you’d be able to get high off it if you tried hard enough.

Shaking your head to free yourself from thoughts of Bucky Barnes, you scratched Alpine under the chin and cooed at her, “Did Mr. Bucky take good care of you while mama was away, sweetie?” 

Alpine let out another of her happy meows, butting her head against your cheek, as if to say she’d been very well taken care of, but still missed you. The edges of your mouth curled into a smile and you nuzzled the cat back, pressing a kiss between her ears.

Before Bucky had moved into your building, if you ever needed someone to feed Alpine while you were away, you’d gone to Mrs. Cabrera down the hall. But when your work trips had grown more frequent, she’d had to ask you to find someone else, unable to balance Alpine’s care with her active social life and visiting her grandchildren all over the city.

You’d been on the phone with your best friend in the lobby of the building, asking whether she’d be able to stop by and feed Alpine, when Bucky had been getting his mail. He’d offered to help you out, and you’d been so grateful, you hadn’t grilled him too much on what he knew about taking care of cats.

Bucky had turned out to be a surprising success as a catsitter. He sent you photos of Alpine a few times a day while you were out of town, and reported perfunctorily on how much she’d eaten, how many treats he’d given her and what toys he’d used to play with her. 

He was everything you’d ever hoped for in a sitter for Alpine, and the fact that he was so good with your cat only made your crush on him burn hotter. When you were on your work trips, you often fantasized about coming home to Bucky and Alpine, and the happy little family you’d make together. 

Your trip home that day had been no different. You’d been called to another city halfway across the country for the week and had originally intended to fly home the next day, but you managed to book an earlier flight that got you home on the evening of Valentine’s Day.

You refused to think about how pathetic you were—daydreaming about returning home to your divorced neighbor, and all the ways you wanted him to show you how happy he was to see you, while everyone else was going out on romantic dates with actual partners. 

If you thought about it too much, about how desperately you wanted someone to love you, it would’ve made you miserable. So you didn’t think about it.

Alpine squirmed in your arms, suddenly deciding she was done with your love fest, and you let her hop down, watching fondly as she shook out her fluffy white fur. The cat turned her big blue eyes up at you and meowed, then led you toward her food bowl in the kitchen.

“Did Mr. Bucky forget to feed you, sweet girl?” you asked with a frown, toeing out of your shoes and following her through the living room.

It wasn’t like Bucky to forget to feed her, and, sure enough, when you saw Alpine’s bowl, you could still see traces of the wet food he had given her that evening. It was even still a little wet, so you knew he’d been by pretty recently. 

You were inexplicably sad that you’d missed him. It would’ve been almost like your fantasies if you’d come home while he’d still been feeding Alpine, but you pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to dwell on them any longer.

Chuckling to yourself when Alpine meowed forlornly, you grabbed the bag of treats and fed her a few while you gave her even more pets and kisses, apologizing for being gone so much. 

As you were giving Alpine as much love as the cat could stomach, a soft sound came from the direction of your bedroom. 

You froze at the unfamiliar noise. It didn’t sound like any of the normal creaks and groans of the old Brooklyn building you called home. 

Your mind raced as you jumped to the most obvious—and unlikely—conclusion, that there was a murderer in your bedroom, lying in wait to stab you gruesomely. But just as quickly as the thought flitted across your mind, you pushed it aside, telling yourself to be realistic.

Alpine had just eaten, and there were no signs of your front door lock having been broken. It was probably just Bucky, who was the only other person to have a key to your apartment. Just like that, your heart started to race with excitement—he was still at your apartment.

He’d probably needed to use the bathroom. Or maybe he’d laid down on your bed and fallen asleep. 

You’d come home to find him like that once. He’d been sprawled across your bed, feet hanging over the side, mouth open and drooling a little on you comforter, one of Alpine’s cat toys dangling loosely in his hand like he’d fallen asleep playing with her. 

For a moment, you’d just looked at him, your heart beating fast against your sternum as dangerous thoughts flitted across your mind—thoughts about how good he looked in your bed, how soft his hair might feel if you ran your fingers through it and pushed it back from his face. 

You’d given yourself that moment to indulge in your wildest fantasies, and then you’d shaken his shoulder gently to wake him.

He’d apologized profusely, pushing his hair back from his face while a blush spread across his cheeks, and you’d been incapable of thinking it was creepy or weird. Bucky was a bit of a mess, and apparently that included falling asleep in his neighbor’s apartment while playing with her cat.

Another sound came from your bedroom, and you were comforted by how much it sounded like a snore. 

Confident it was Bucky, having accidentally fallen asleep on your bed again, you stepped softly toward your room, not wanting to wake him. You wanted another stolen moment to watch him sleep and imagine him spending more time in your bed—preferably naked.

But when you reached the doorway to your bedroom, you stopped short. Your breath caught sharply in your throat at the sight that greeted you.

Bucky Barnes lay on his back across the middle of your bed, his shirt off, revealing a broad golden chest with a generous dusting of dark hair. That was enough for your eyes to widen, to snag on the rise and fall of his pecs and the bulge of his bicep as he breathed heavily.

But then your gaze followed the line of his muscular arm down to where his belt buckle was undone, his jeans were unzipped and his hand was shoved into the black boxer briefs he wore. Out of sight, you could see Bucky’s hand moving, his knuckles brushed against the inside of the soft cotton of his briefs as they moved in an unmistakable stroking motion.

Between your thighs, your clit twitched. The bundle of nerves practically perked up like a desperate puppy as you watched Bucky’s hand move inside his briefs while he pleasured himself, his hips thrusting into his own touch like all he wanted to do was pound into his fist, but he was trying prolong it. 

He groaned softly, the sound drifting across your room and sending so much heat spiraling through your body that you squirmed where you stood. Still, you were transfixed—unable to look away or give Bucky some semblance of privacy, and unable to move forward and join him as your body so desperately wanted. 

Worried he might’ve sensed you watching him, your eyes flicked up to Bucky’s face, which was when you noticed he was holding something up to his mouth and nose. He took a deep breath, grunting softly again as his fist worked a little faster in his jeans.

The thing in Bucky’s hand was one of your sweaters, you realized dazedly. It was one that you’d tossed onto the chair in the corner before you’d left on your trip. It must’ve still smelled like you, like the barest hint of your perfume…

And Bucky was smelling it. He was inhaling the scent with deep breaths while he stroked his cock. On your bed.

On some level, you knew there was something deeply wrong about what Bucky was doing. You knew that he’d crossed so many boundaries—taking off his shirt, laying on your bed, smelling your sweater, stroking his cock in your room—that your trust in him should be broken irrevocably. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to feel horror or disgust or betrayal at his actions. Maybe it was the shock of finding your divorced neighbor in such an erotic state, or the fact that you were lonely and Bucky had been the object of your fantasies for so long, but all you felt was turned on. 

You were filled with a pleasant warmth that was burning hotter and hotter with every moment you stood in the doorway of your room, watching Bucky stroke himself in his jeans. A revealing wetness was growing between your thighs, your legs pressing together against the ache building in your core.

It had only been a few seconds since you’d discovered Bucky in your bed, stroking his cock while he smelled your sweater, but you were already so turned on, you were squirming in the doorway. Your fingers drifted to the juncture of your thighs and pressed into the seam of your leggings. 

A breathless whimper slipped from your lips as you rubbed your clit, the spark of pleasure having an incendiary effect on your body. What had been a simmering heat of desire was quickly growing into an inferno of need—a need that you suspected only Bucky, with his deft fingers and hard cock, would be able to sate.

You hadn’t thought the sound you’d made was loud enough to catch your neighbor’s attention, but Bucky froze for a beat before his head turned and he saw you in the doorway. Surprise and guilt flickered across his gaze, his arm moving as if to pull his hand from his pants.

But then Bucky seemed to take in the full sight of you, and his eyes snagged on the way your hand was pressed between your thighs, your fingers unmistakably rubbing your clit. His gaze darkened to a midnight blue, and a knowing smirk spread across his handsome face. 

Suddenly, you felt like you were the one who’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t and, inexplicably, that only made you feel hotter and squirmier. Snatching your hand away from your clit—ignoring the way your body protested—you twisted your fingers together uncertainly.

“I caught an earlier flight,” you blurted, feeling the need to explain your sudden appearance in your own apartment. 

Bucky’s smirk only seemed to deepen and for one, breathless moment, you simply stood there, staring deep into his eyes. There was no judgement in his gaze, no recrimination for touching yourself when you found him stroking his cock on your bed. There was only a desire that matched the feeling pulsing through your body.

Slowly, as if worrying he’d spook you if he moved too fast, Bucky pulled his hand from his pants and your eyes darted to it uncertainly, wondering what he was doing. 

He reached out to you, his hand open and welcoming—and you had the wild urge to press your face into his palm, to breathe in the scent of his cock, which surely lingered on his skin. You wanted to lick the taste from his palm and nuzzle into his hand, but his voice broke you free from those thoughts.

“C’mere, bunny,” Bucky rumbled, so much affection and lust dripping from his tone that the pet name felt like a sweet caress to your cheek. 

You could hardly think, your mind a twisted mess of what you should do and what you wanted to do. But your body didn’t seem the least bit confused. Your feet carried you forward, closing the short distance between the doorway and the bed, and you were sliding your fingers into Bucky’s palm by the time you’d admitted to yourself it was what you wanted.

Bucky helped you onto the bed, the older man showing his strength as he manhandled you into the position he wanted—your knees planted on either side of his torso, your clothed pussy hovering a few inches above his face.

“Sit on me, bunny, let me breathe you,” Bucky murmured gruffly from between your legs, his hands gently kneading your thighs. You could feel his harsh breaths against your sodden core, and it made you all the more eager to follow his command.

You lowered your hips until you felt Bucky’s nose against your slit and stopped, hovering above his face and fearing that you’d crush him with your weight—which would be a tragic thing to do when you’d only just found him shirtless in your bed. 

But Bucky didn’t like that. His hands wrapped around the tops of your thighs, fingers digging into the creases where your legs met your hips, and he yanked you down until your body settled on him entirely. 

He groaned loudly, the sound only slightly muffled by the way his hot mouth was pressed against your damp center, which sent shivers of delight dancing through your body.

A sudden, breathy moan tumbled from your lips and your whole body trembled with pleasure, your thighs quivering on either side of Bucky’s shoulders. It felt so good that you wanted more, so you pressed down harder on his face.

You could feel the hungry grin Bucky wore before he opened his mouth and you felt his tongue lick a searing line along your slit. You could feel him, hot and hungry, through your leggings and panties, the heat of him sending delicious sparks up your spine. 

Unable to keep holding yourself up, you curled forward, your cheek pressing against Bucky’s hip and getting a front row seat to the sight of his hand slipping into his boxer briefs. You watched the obscured view of his fingers curling around his hard, thick length, your mouth falling open with wonder as he stroked himself slowly. 

All the while, Bucky mouthed at your pussy, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue before licking deep into your slit and groaning obscenely at the taste of your arousal. It was mesmerizing, the way Bucky licked you through your clothes while he stroked his cock just out of sight. 

You could’ve stayed like that for hours, reveling in your euphoria and watching Bucky pleasure himself, but the longer his mouth worked your pussy, the more your need grew and grew. Between one breath and the next, you went from laying peacefully on Bucky to grinding your pussy shamelessly on his face, seeking your release. 

“That’s it, bunny, grind your needy little cunt on daddy’s face,” Bucky growled, his words half muffled by your heated flesh pressed to his mouth. “Knew you’d be a perfect little slut for me, be a good slut for daddy and make yourself feel good.”

Your pussy spasmed when Bucky called himself ‘daddy’, a lewd moan slipping from your lips that you tried to bury against the older man’s bulge. You’d never called anyone that before, even though you’d thought about it plenty, and it felt like a precious gift that Bucky seemed to want you to call him daddy.

You felt undone and laid bare by Bucky’s tongue and his words, your innermost fantasies exposed to the golden late afternoon light streaming into your bedroom. It was all you could do to spread your knees wider and hump against the older man’s face, giving in to all your basest desires.

“Daddy, it feels sooo good,” you whimpered, nuzzling mindlessly into Bucky’s cock while your hips worked harder against his face. “Your mouth feels so good, daddy, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Bucky pulled his hand from his pants and you immediately replaced it with your mouth, your lips curving around the thick ridge of his cock through his boxer briefs, sucking on the tip. You huffed a happy sound as his musky taste burst on your tongue. 

His hips bucked up off the bed, a muffled grunt coming from between your thighs and you smiled against his hardness. You secured your lips more tightly around him, letting your spit dampen the cotton of his briefs while you sucked lewdly on the crown of his cock. 

For a moment, Bucky must’ve been distracted by your mouth, but then he seemed to remember himself. His fingers slipped under your sweater and hooked in the back of your leggings, yanking them and your panties down over your ass until the cool air of the room brushed against your bare pussy. 

You barely had time to mewl, the sound full of blatant need, before Bucky was pulling you back down on his face, his hot mouth latching onto your pussy without anything in between. He took a deep breath, the sound of him sucking in the smell of you loud, even while it was muffled by your body. 

“Fuck, bunny, you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about getting my mouth on your sweet cunt,” Bucky groaned, pressing the flat of his tongue into your slit and licking greedily. He pushed deep into your hole, mouth sucking your juices straight from the source. “You taste better than I ever imagined, so fucking sweet—you’re such a good slut, creaming all over daddy’s tongue.”

“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasped, pleasure driving you as you pushed your hips down hard on Bucky’s face and began grinding against his mouth, feeling him smile between your thighs. It only drove your pleasure higher, pushing you closer to the edge. “Please, daddy—daddy, please make me cum, ‘m so close!” 

“Cum on my tongue, sweet bunny, cum like a perfect little slut for your daddy,” Bucky rumbled in a gruff, lust-soaked voice. Then his lips were closing around your clit and he sucked hard on the tight bundle of nerves, his tongue lashing at the tip until the coil of tension in your body snapped. 

Pleasure crashed through your body and you let out a sharp cry as you came. Burying your face against the base of Bucky’s cock, you sobbed through your release, wave after wave of pleasure sweeping through and devastating you while you moaned into the older man’s balls.

Between your thighs, Bucky groaned and lapped up your release hungrily, licking you through all the minor tremors and aftershocks of your release. He eased you down from your high gracefully, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy while your inner walls fluttered around nothing. 

“I’m gonna treat you so well, baby, gonna take such good care of you,” Bucky rumbled, talking to your body in such a way that you weren’t even sure if he was talking to you or your pussy. “Gonna fill you with my cock and so much cum, your belly will be bloated with it.”

At that, you moaned softly, enjoying the way Bucky’s cock twitched against your cheek. You nuzzled into his hard length, pressing soft kisses everywhere you could reach while you were still laying collapsed on top of him, sated from your orgasm. 

Bucky didn’t seem to be paying much attention to anything but your pussy, though, as he used his fingers to spread you open, pushing his tongue deep into your hole like he was searching for the last drop of a sweet treat. When you moaned around his cock, he grunted hotly into your cunt.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna be craving my cock every second of the day,” he want on, his voice growing rougher with desire, using his nose to nudge against your clit and make it twitch for him. “Whenever I’m not inside you, you’re gonna be wishing I was, bunny—just like I spend every fucking minute of my day thinking about this sweet pussy.”

The warm haze of your release had mostly worn off, and it took you only a second to process Bucky’s words, a gasp slipping from your lips as your whole body clenched tight. A greedy, possessive side you never knew you had delighted in the idea of Bucky thinking about you so much—it seemed only fair when you’d thought about him nonstop for two years.

“Do it, daddy,” you murmured, a challenge in your tone that had Bucky going still. His fingers dug into the plush curves of your hips as if wordlessly telling you to continue. “I’ve wanted your cock for months,” you confessed, pressing a kiss to his hard length, still pushing against the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. “Show me what I’ve been missing, Bucky, show me what I’ve been craving—please, daddy.” 

Your voice was little more than a purr, and that final ‘daddy’ seemed to snap something in Bucky because his hands were shifting on your hips and he was lifting you up from his face, manhandling you onto your back on the bed. Bucky pushed between your thighs, covering your body with his own until his face was level with yours.

“Are you sure, bunny—tell me you’re sure,” Bucky asked urgently, a desperate rasp in his voice as his wild blue eyes raked over your face, as if searching for any trace of uncertainty. “Because I’ve thought about this for so long, you’ll break my heart if you’re not serious.”

Your hands cupped Bucky’s scruffy jaw and you looked at his face, really looked at him. He still had dark circles under his eyes, and weathered lines feathering out from the corners of his eyes. His hair was half sticking up and flopping to the side at the same time, the brown strands looking so soft and inviting, begging you to thread your fingers through it. 

Bucky Barnes was still a bit of a mess, but he was a mess you craved unequivocally. And, even though you’d found him pleasuring himself in your bed, after the intense orgasm he’d given you, there was no way you’d pass up a chance to find out what else your divorced neighbor had to offer. 

“I’m sure, Bucky,” you said, your voice calm and certain. “I want this—I want you.” You dragged him in close enough to brush your lips against his in the ghost of a kiss, tasting traces of yourself on his lips. “Fuck me, daddy, make me your slut and show your bunny who she belongs to.” 

Bucky groaned and slanted his mouth to yours, kissing you softly at first before deepening it by sliding his tongue along your plump lower lip. You opened for him readily, groaning into his mouth when he slid inside and you tasted your cum on his tongue. It was dirty and filthy and the perfect counterpoint to the sweet way it had started. 

As he kissed you, Bucky’s hands grew more and more bold, slipping beneath your sweater and groping your tits through your bra. When you pulled away to gasp for air, the older man made quick work of pulling off your sweater and then unclasping your bra, tossing both somewhere in your room. 

Then Bucky paused, his gaze transfixed by your tits. He watched, awe etched into his features, as his big hands cupped your soft mounds. His thumbs stroked over your nipples, the sparkling pleasure of his touch making your spine arch as a mewl spilled from your lips. 

Bucky closed his eyes, like he was overcome by the sight, which only made a new warmth bloom in your chest. It had been hot to see him jerking himself off while he smelled your sweater, but this—seeing Bucky nearly come undone just from watching your reaction to his thumb sweeping over your nipple was something else entirely. 

Your fingers wrapped around the strong muscle of Bucky’s forearms, just above his wrists, and you urged him on. “More, daddy, please,” you whimpered, catching his eye when his flew open, the blue of his gaze darkening into something smoldering and hot.

“You’re so soft, so fucking perfect, bunny,” Bucky grunted. The veins in his arms stood out in sharp relief as he groped you more roughly, spurred by the soft sounds of delight you were making, until you were squirming beneath him. “Always knew your tits would be perfect.”

“Daddy,” you moaned, arching your spine and pushing your tits into Bucky’s touch. You were giving yourself over to the pleasure of Bucky’s big hands on your body, sinking deeper into the pillows at your back as you babbled, “Feels so good, so good, daddy.” 

Another orgasm was building in your core by the time Bucky had his fill of your tits, moving his hands down your sides and pausing for a moment to grope your ass. The movement pulled your pussy lips apart, and you could feel how wet and messy you were from your earlier release and the new arousal he’d coaxed from you by playing with your tits. 

Bucky let out a growl of impatience when he tried to pull your leggings and panties down, finding himself in the way, and folded your body in half. He yanked them up your legs and off, tossing them off the bed and leaving you naked, bent in half with your knees pushed to your chest and your pussy on full display.

You watched Bucky’s gaze fall to the place where you were wet and aching and desperate for him, seeing his gaze grow dark and intense as he stared at your pussy. You were drenched in your own juices and a little swollen from the earlier attention of his mouth, and the sight seemed to drive Bucky wild.

His hands were rough as he pushed your legs together, his other hand shoving impatiently as his jeans and boxer briefs, pawing at his clothes almost like a feral dog. You took pity on him—and, truthfully, you wanted him to hurry up. You wrapped your arms around the backs of your knees to hold yourself in position so he could use both hands to free himself.

When Bucky’s cock finally, finally bounced free from his boxer briefs, you gasped in delight, the thick length of his dick looking perfect to your eyes. 

It had a slight curve to it, with a thick tip that was flushed an angry red and dripping precum onto the back of your thighs. Bucky’s fist curled around the base and your eyes raked up the length, drool gathering in your mouth at the sight of the veins protruding from the shaft. 

You wanted desperately to trace every single vein with your tongue, teasing Bucky mercilessly until his hips were bucking in a silent plea. And then you wanted to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tasting his precum from the source, before letting him fuck your throat. 

But that would have to wait fore another time, because Bucky had other ideas. 

He used his grip on his cock to smack the heavy length against your soft, wet slit, fucking between your swollen folds in a way that made you light-headed with desire. You could feel the tip bullying against your tight little hole before sliding past and teasingly brushing your clit. 

“You want my cock, baby?” Bucky rasped, his tone dark and dangerous in a way you’d never heard before, like fucking you was a threat he had every intention of delivering on. “You want daddy’s cock to push into your tight cunt and fuck you hard, even after you caught me jerking off in your bed?”

Your breath caught in a gasp and your eyes flew to Bucky’s. He was looking directly at you, the hint of a deviant smirk in the curve of his lips. 

He’d looked guilty when you’d first found him that afternoon, but in that moment, he looked entirely too satisfied with himself—like a demon who’d already convinced you to sell your soul to him and all that was left was to have some fun. He looked hot.

A slightly unhinged smile spread across your face. Later, the two of you would talk about what you’d walked in on, but until then, you could accept the hand Bucky was reaching out to you and sink down into the filthy depravity of his actions. You could join him in reveling in it. 

“Yes—please, daddy!” you cried, one of your hands reaching for him. Your nails dug into his forearm, delighting in the feeling of his muscles and tendons shifting beneath your touch. “I don’t care what you did—I don’t care if you’re a dirty old man, I want your cock!”

Bucky’s reaction was immediate, his eyes darkening dramatically at your pronouncement, his pupils blowing so wide, they nearly blotted out all of the blue. A growl rumbled in his chest as he lowered himself over your body, his cock bullying more insistently at your hole, but never pushing inside, leaving you to squirm and whine beneath him.

“Tell me, bunny, did it turn you on to catch a dirty old pervert jerking off to the scent of your perfume in your bed?” he asked, his tone deep and dangerous, his eyes sparkling as they held your gaze without mercy. “Did your slutty pussy get wet catching me like that—be honest, tell daddy the truth.”

His hips were working insistently, fucking through your swollen folds, while the knuckles of his fist brushed against your greedy, achingly empty cunt. It was all you could do to huff an impatient sound, your hips bucking up against his cock, but Bucky didn’t give you what you truly wanted. He was waiting for your answer.

“My clit twitched and I got so wet,” you confessed, and you were so drunk on the desire pounding through your body that it loosened your tongue until you were spilling your every filthy thought. “It was so hot, seeing you like that, and I’ve thought about you so many times—I’ve touched myself in this bed thinking about your cock splitting me open—and you were stroking yourself and… I couldn’t help it!”

“Jesus, bunny,” Bucky groaned, dropping his head and closing his eyes. His hips stilled, his cock resting heavily on your messy, swollen cunt, and you whined, your body squirming at the lack of movement. 

Bucky’s eyes flew open a moment later, pinning you with a predatory stare that had you freezing, your breath catching in your throat. He looked at you as if through new eyes, eyes that finally, truly understood you. 

“You’re just as much of a pervert as I am, aren’t you, bunny?” he asked, his tone rough with affection bleeding into it. His big palm caressed your thigh, almost like he was trying to soothe you. 

You had to bite your lip to hold back your grin, which only made Bucky’s eyes flare with interest, his gaze falling to your mouth like he wanted to free your lip from your teeth and then sink his own into its plush softness. It would’ve made you giggle if it wasn’t for how hot and wet and aching you were for his cock.

“Yes, daddy,” you said sweetly, smiling up at Bucky while he leaned over you. “I’m just as much of a dirty pervert as you.” You dragged him down until his lips crashed against yours, the kiss filthy and messy, all nipping teeth and roaming tongues. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but add, “I’m just not as old as you.”

A good-natured growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, a playful grin curving his mouth. He looked like he’d taken the comment in stride, but you learned better a moment later when he pulled his cock out of the way before spanking your pussy sharply, your shrill squeal filling the room. 

“You’re not that young either, bunny,” Bucky said pointedly, sliding his cock back between your lower lips. “Not young enough to stop me from fantasizing about you every night, coming in my hand like a goddamn teenager,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

“Daddyyy,” you whined, when he seemed content to keep rubbing his cock against your pussy instead of pushing inside. It was driving you closer and closer to your second release, but you didn’t want to cum until you’d been filled and fucked hard, just like he’d promised. “Now that we’ve established we’re both gigantic perverts, will you fuck me already?” 

Your voice was a pleading, pitiful sound, and when Bucky finally dragged his gaze from your pussy, you pouted up at him. Your cunt was dripping and so empty, you just wanted him inside you already, which you tried to convey with your eyes. 

“Anything for my bunny,” Bucky growled, his words your only warning before he pulled his hips back and lined up the tip of his cock with your pussy. In the next breath, Bucky was shoving his considerable girth into your tight hole and you were crying out at the stretch.

“Too big, too big,” you whined, and Bucky paused immediately, but you didn’t want that. “Don’t stop,” you cried, your hands reaching for him, grabbing his hips and sinking your nails into golden skin as you dragged him closer. “Split me open, daddy, fuck me full.”

Bucky let out a grunt of acknowledgement and planted his hands on the backs of your thighs, pulling back before pushing in deeper. He split you open with merciless determination, working his cock deeper into your cunt with every thrust. 

When he was nearly there, he rearranged himself, leaning over your body and pressing you into the mattress, covering you with his larger form while his cock worked into your tight cunt. The position put his face level with yours and the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk when he took in the blissed out look on your face. 

“You’re so tight, has it been a while, bunny?” he asked teasingly, his eyes watching your expression closely, like he was looking for something more than his words implied. 

But if he was worried about whether there were any other men in your bed, he needn’t have. Bucky Barnes had been the star of all your fantasies since the day you’d met him two years ago. 

“Too long—three years,” you gasped, rocking your hips in time to his thrusts. You watched the worry drain from his expression, the emotion quickly replaced with an intoxicating mix of possessiveness and affection. You liked it so much, you wanted to drive your point home. “Not since before you moved into the building.”

You’d barely gotten the words out before Bucky’s mouth was crashing down on yours, his hands roughly pushing your thighs out of the way so he could press his chest against yours, skin to skin, getting as close as humanly possible while his hips drove his cock home.

“I’m crazy for you, bunny,” Bucky rumbled when he pulled away, his forehead pressed to yours, his cock buried fully in your cunt. “You’ve been under my skin since I met you, and I knew I should forget you—you’re too good for me—but I couldn’t.” 

His hips started rocking, fucking you in short, grinding thrusts that had the tip of him rubbing against a spot inside you that made your whole body clench tight. Your fingers sank into his messy, soft brown hair, threading through the soft strands. You pulled his mouth close to yours as he went on.

“I don’t know if I can let you go afer this, baby, I don’t think I can do a one-time thing,” he confessed, brushing kisses to your lips and cheeks and nose, everywhere he could reach. “Fuck, you feel like you were made for me, bunny.”

“I was,” you said, your voice vehement even as you exhaled a shuddering breath, fighting against the pleasure building in your core to keep your mind together long enough to say what you wanted to say. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, I don’t want you to let me go.” 

Using your grip on Bucky’s hair, you pushed him away, only far enough that you could look into his eye as you went on. You wanted him to see the honesty on your face and hear it in your words at the same time.

“I want to be your bunny—your girl, made to take your cock,” you confessed, your words coming out of you in a rush. “I want to be your perfect slut and let you drain your balls in my cunt whenever you want—I want it all, daddy.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Bucky bit out, his eyes closing as if he was overwhelmed by everything you’d just said. But they opened again a moment later, looking intense, the flicker of something deeper than affection sparking to life in the depth of his gaze. “You’re gonna be the death of me, bunny.”

You huffed a laugh at that, unable to hold back the smile his words set free.

“Silly daddy,” you teased, rocking your hips and digging your heels into the backs of his thighs, spurring him to move, to thrust into your pussy and bring you pleasure. “You’re not allowed to die,” you purred, arching your spine and bearing down on his cock. “Not before you make me cum again.”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh, the sound coming out choked and dissolving into a groan when your bodies found a perfect rhythm together. He moved determinedly, working your body up until you were teetering on the edge of your second release.

“Cum inside me, daddy,” you murmured against Bucky’s scruffy cheek, nuzzling into the coarse hair and soft skin that smelled like earth and spice. “Fill up your bunny with all your cum, my pussy’s begging for it—I’m begging for it, daddy, please.”

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, bunny, such a good slut,” Bucky rumbled, his hips snapping against yours in deep, brutal thrusts that had you seeing stars. “Taking daddy’s cock so well and begging for daddy’s cum so sweetly—you’re such a perfect girl.”

You keened happily at Bucky’s praise, your knees climbing his sides until you were nearly folded in half again. His hips were pounding into yours so hard, you could hear the lewd smacking of his skin on yours, the wet sounds of your sticky, clingy pussy between you.

“I’m gonna give it to you, baby,” Bucky gritted through clenched teeth, changing the angle of his hips so his cock rubbed against your clit with every thrust. “Cum for me, bunny, cum for daddy so I can fill you up with my seed.”

His filthy words and the perfect way he was fucking you set you off, making you cum harder than you ever had before. A scream wrenched from your throat as you threw your head back into the pillows of your bed, your spine arching up off the mattress and your pussy clenching down hard on Bucky’s cock as waves of pleasure overwhelmed you.

Your release sparked Bucky’s, his hips rutting into your fluttering cunt before he came with a grunt muffled into the side of your head. His hard length twitched deep inside you as he spilled his seed, flooding your pussy with his cum. 

But he didn’t stop moving, Bucky’s hips kept working, fucking his cum deeper inside you while you clung to him, your skin slick with sweat. You buried your face in his neck and sucked a hickey into his skin, unable to stifle the possessive urge to mark him just as he was marking your insides with his cum.

When you were both finally sated, Bucky rolled over with his hand pressed to your lower back, keeping your bodies locked together and your hips pinned to him. His cock was still lodged deep in your pussy, plugging you full of his cum. He heaved a contented sigh with your body sprawled out on top of his.

It wasn’t until both of you had caught your breath that you lifted your head and met Bucky’s gaze, giving him a pointed look.

“So,” you started, drawing out the word and enjoying the way his eyes crinkled and looked to the side, as if he knew what was coming. “Do you want to tell me why I came home to find my divorced neighbor-slash-catsitter jerking off in my bed?” 

Your tone was light, even if the question was not, and you half expected Bucky to get defensive, but he just laughed a little awkwardly and ran his fingers through his hair. The move made his already messy hair even messier, so you tangled your fingers with his and trapped them beneath your chin, which was propped up on his chest.

“You know, it’s kind of a funny story,” Bucky began, darting his eyes to yours, as if making sure you were paying attention—and weren’t about to bludgeon him over the head. 

When you gestured for him to go on, he continued. 

“I’d picked up Alpine—for her post-dinner snuggle, of course,” he said, a slight pink blush in the apples of his cheeks. 

“Of course,” you echoed, the ghost of a smile flirting at the corners of your mouth. It sounded exactly like Alpine to demand cuddles after she’d just eaten. Not that you could blame her, you would have greedily taken cuddles from Bucky too.  

The older man smiled indulgently at your expression, like he knew it was for your cat and not necessarily for him. But it seemed to embolden him to continue on.

“I was just asking Alpine if she had any tips on how to tell her mama that I’m crazy about her,” he said, his voice warm with affection.

It was so sweet, you tilted your face down, biting into one of the knuckles on his hand. The older man didn’t even flinch. Bucky just laughed and went on speaking.

“Anyway, her claw got stuck in my sweater and it hurt, and she was yowling like she was going to die.” 

You lifted your head again and Bucky’s eyes were wide as he told this part of the story, his gaze staring off into the near distance like he was haunted by the memory, which you could understand. It wasn’t easy to keep your calm when you had a sharp nail digging into your skin and a cat that was freaking out. 

“I took my sweater off, and got her nail unstuck, but Alpine grabbed it and ran off.”

You laughed, wondering what would possess your cat to do such a thing, even as you nuzzled deeper into Bucky’s chest. Breathing in the scent of him, all earth and spice, you thought you might get it. You wanted to be surrounded by his scent and would’ve gladly stolen his sweater if you’d had the chance.

“I was looking for one of your sweaters to see if she’d let me trade it for mine,” Bucky explained, his voice starting to slow, as if he’d gotten to a part of the story he didn’t want to tell. “I caught a whiff of your perfume and I…” He ran his free hand down over his face.”Look, there’s no excuse for what I did—I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

Bucky caught your eye and he was so handsome, all you could do was stare. The sun was dipping low, slipping behind the buildings of Brooklyn. The light in your room was quickly turning from golden yellow to the tranquil blue of sunset, and everything felt just right. 

Your silence, however, seemed to make Bucky nervous, so he kept talking. 

“Have I mentioned that I’m crazy for you and I haven’t touched a woman in over two years and I forgot how fucking hard a woman’s perfume can make me?” he rambled, a pleading tone in his voice.

It was so cute and such a shock to hear him plead with you so genuinely that a surprised laugh burst from your lips. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you pushed yourself up and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s mouth. Maybe it was ridiculous or dumb, but you’d already forgiven Bucky. He’d made a mistake, had a moment of weakness, and you’d surprised him by coming home early. It wasn’t like he’d been trying to get caught, it had been an accident. Sort of.

Besides, it had led to the two of you getting together. You’d dreamed about Bucky for so long, fantasized about him in so much filthier situations than the one you’d found him in, that it only seemed right that he was just as much of a perv as you. 

“I’m crazy about you, too,” you murmured when you pulled away, only far enough to speak. “I forgive you.”

Bucky heaved a sigh of relief and dragged you in for another kiss, showing you his remorse with every sweep of his tongue. You sank into the kiss, letting him win back your trust, knowing the two of you were going to use the awkward start to build something real. 

You made out on your bed, your body keeping Bucky’s softening cock warm, until full dark had fallen. In between kisses, the two of you talked—about what came next (a proper date) and whether Bucky would keep the key you’d given him for catsitting (he would, after swearing never to use it without your permission). 

Eventually, you climbed off Bucky and took a shower—alone, despite his offers to help clean you up. You still felt a bit grungy from your trip home, and you wanted to take your time. So Bucky grabbed a shower at his own place, and came back, knocking on your door with a bottle of wine in hand, when you texted him you were done.

Bucky ordered dinner while you opened the wine, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the ease with which you’d fallen into a kind of domestic routine. Part of the reason you’d had a crush on Bucky was that you genuinely enjoyed his company, and you were glad to see that hadn’t changed.

When you brought the glasses out to the living room, Alpine was curled up on Bucky’s lap and he was stroking her softly, asking if she might want a papa. You bit back a smile and told him teasingly that it might be a bit soon for such a conversation with your furball daughter.

Bucky took the glasses from your hands and set them on the table before pulling you down onto the couch beside him. He made sure not to jostle Alpine as he manhandled both you and your cat into a comfortable group snuggle, with her laying across your lap while you sat in Bucky’s.

You laughed at him, but you were secretly very pleased, unable to stop grinning since Bucky was making your dreams come true without even realizing it. You’d longed for someone to snuggle with you and Alpine, to love you both, and it seemed like Bucky might be that man. 

For the rest of Valentine’s Day, you spent the holiday with your two favorite people in the world, Bucky and your cat, Alpine. 

Despite your teasing, you hoped it was only a matter of time before Bucky became her papa and moved in, becoming the person you could come home to and who would shower you with the affection you deserved.

Your divorced neighbor, Bucky Barnes, may have been a bit of a mess, but he turned out to be exactly what you needed—the perfect partner to come home to, one who shared your kinks and was just as much of a perv as you. He was a good papa to Alpine, and was happy to build your family together. 

It’s kind of a funny story how you got together—but it’s a story with a very happy ending.

sweethearts game masterlist

[fushiguruuzzzz]

wc 885. grief. death.

grieving you was the most difficult thing tetsuro kuroo had ever done.

there were days where he found himself turning to his left when he thought of something funny, only to be met with aching silence and the whisper of a presence that is no longer to be. as he walked in the streets, his fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, but his conscious stopped the muscle memory from acting on itself under the recognition that your presence was nowhere to be seen. the warmth radiated from your being no longer enveloped him, no longer smothered him in the affection that came with basking in the light that was you. there was a dooming emptiness that followed him everywhere, nothingness that never had the capacity to speak up yet still embedding itself into his heart and expanding within until it was a hollow shell of something that once beat for you.

his skin shed the familiarity of your touch, the way soft hands had once cradled his face and smoothed over the ridges etched into him by years of being strong. he no longer felt strong. the composure had been torn from him the moment your eyes fell shut for good, as if you had desperately grasped to him yet only brought with you his ability to remain who he had thought he was to the other realm. the dips of your palms, those that had felt personally carved to slot against his bone structure, were a mess of lines and plush flesh that seeped so deep into his skin he could no longer recount it off the top of his head.

he remembered you. he promised himself he could do that, and he was always confident in his ability to memorize things. after all, you had been his most cherished subject. but there were days where it simply was not enough; the unfulfilled love he no longer had a place to deposit consuming him from the inside out. and although the steady rhythm of your heart was engraved into the song of his soul, it no longer beat, and that was agonizing. what had once been a melody of bliss and youth had turned to the blues, a soft tune telling the story of tears shed over a life meant to live, but left abandoned.

kuroo was always the shoulder to lean on, the rock in the midst of raging tides. but now he found himself collapsed on the floor of a bedroom you had shared long ago, chest constricting with a phantom pain and breaths rapid as if the oxygen was not enough to keep him going. his shoulders shook as the sobs racked through him, each one crawling up his throat more painful than the last. what was he supposed to do when his rock was the one that had been ripped out from under him — was the reason his soul had been corrupt at all? for once, he felt lost. the memory of your voice had begun to fade no matter how many times he replayed old videos, and he could no longer find it in himself to imagine you guiding him through it. every word twisted with the shudder of death, and each time he pictured your face there was a swirling darkness in the horizon that reached out to you and snatched you away all over again. a blade of grief had been punctured into the tender bits of his soul — or was it just that he could not bring himself to deny the very thing that had once held you, too? the cool metal had once relished in the sweet embrace of your warm blood and, no matter how far into the afterlife his dreams brought him, that was closer to you than he had ever been.

every bit of his being ached, bones worn and chipped. he still wore his signature grin every day — maybe to put up a front and maybe because he knew the way it brought your mood up seeing him happy — but he was growing increasingly exhausted with pretending his future had not shattered and cut his hands as he sought out the shards. that grin was pulled into a straight line now, lips parting with a cry far too often. no matter how hard he bit down on his cheek, they just could not stop. he felt empty and sorrowful, a cocktail of dizzying negativity, as though his soul was so distraught without you he did not even know how to grieve. this was not the way he wanted to figure out soulmates were real. if he was so intertwined with you, why was it that he was left here, wrapped up in someone that ceased to exist?

why was it that he was here and you no longer had the privilege? what made him worthy of life more than you were, and yet doomed to eternal suffering? why was he the one left tracing your face in tear stained polaroids as if somehow, memorizing you a little further could bring you back to you?

seeking did not always lead to gentle findings. no matter how much tetsuro sought out the euphoria of having you breathing, he would only ever be met with dusty recounting of the millisecond it stopped.

🏷️.- @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee @bubybubsters @lizbix @mayyhaps @adoresia @gumims @cinnamxnangel @sickpatientt @aldebrana @cancelledkat @wizzzierr @jadeyaps

[chokkzou]

PART. 2 ! continuation of the discovery of the bllk boys being your cute submissives(?

characters: isagi, reo, nagi, bachira, hiori, ness and kaiser.

tw?: top! male reader x sub! bllk. I don't speak English so sorry if there is any mistake or idk.

link to the first part !

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Meguru Bachira has always been touchy, flirty, and incredibly unfiltered when it comes to expressing himself. He likes physical closeness, he likes teasing, and he definitely likes testing your patience just to see how far he can push before you snap.

What he didn’t expect, though, was that you’d be the one to turn the tables on him.

At first, it was subtle. You’d mirror his teasing, getting just a little too close when he leaned in, lowering your voice when speaking into his ear, resting a hand on his knee absentmindedly while talking to someone else. And he thought he could handle it—he really did.

But then, one day, you trapped him.

It was after a match, the adrenaline still running high in his veins. He was rambling excitedly about his dribbling, gesturing wildly, until you suddenly stepped in front of him and pushed him back against the lockers.

"you talk too much, Meguru," you murmured, voice deep, smooth, teasing.

And oh, he completely short-circuited.

His breath caught in his throat, his usual confident grin faltered, and for the first time, he had nothing to say. You watched as his hands twitched slightly, as his eyes darted between your face and the space between you two—like he was trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

And the best part? He secretly loves every second of it.

That’s when you realized: Bachira loves being overwhelmed. He thrives on intensity, on unpredictability—but when you throw it back at him? He’s defenseless.

Since then, you’ve made it a habit to catch him off guard. Pinning his wrists down when he gets too hyper, suddenly leaning in during a casual conversation, whispering things too close to his ear just to see him stammer.

And the best part? He secretly loves every second of it.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Yo Hiori is cautious with his feelings. He’s quiet, observant, and doesn’t open up easily. He likes to keep a sense of control over his emotions, over how much he allows himself to feel—because if he lets go, he’s scared he won’t know how to stop.

Then you came along, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

You didn’t push him. You didn’t demand answers. But you were patient, understanding, and so effortlessly sure of yourself that it made him uneasy in the best way possible.

The first time he realized just how much your presence affected him was when you pulled him into an embrace without hesitation. No warning, no second-guessing—just firm, solid arms around him, grounding him in a way he didn’t even know he needed.

And he completely froze.

Not because he didn’t like it, but because he liked it too much.

After that, you started testing the waters. A hand on his nape when he was overthinking, a casual arm draped over his shoulders, fingers lacing through his when he got lost in his thoughts. And each time, he melted a little more.

One day, you pulled him by the wrist, guiding him effortlessly through a crowded hallway. It was such a small action, something most wouldn’t think twice about—but to Hiori, it was everything.

He barely registered the way his breath hitched, the way his steps fell perfectly in sync with yours, the way he didn’t even think about resisting.

That’s when it hit him: he didn’t mind being led.

In fact, with you? He wanted to be.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Alexis Ness is obsessive when it comes to the things he loves. He gives himself completely, without hesitation, without restraint—so when it comes to you, he’s no different.

At first, he thought it was normal. You were his favorite person, after all. Of course, he’d do things for you, of course, he’d be eager to please. But then he started noticing things.

Like the way his pulse quickened when you commanded him without thinking. The way his body reacted before his brain could catch up whenever you gave him an order.

"Ness, come here." And he’d move before even realizing it.

"stay close." And suddenly, he was standing so near that he could feel your body heat.

One day, you casually murmured, "good boy."

And that was the moment he completely lost it.

His entire body tensed, a sharp inhale cutting through the air, his fingers instinctively curling as a shiver ran down his spine. He didn’t even mean to react that way, but you saw everything.

You smirked. He wanted to die.

But worse? He wanted to hear it again.

And that’s how you discovered just how easy it was to break him.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ Michael Kaiser is cocky, arrogant, and always in control. He loves playing games, being the one to dictate the pace, to have people wrapped around his finger.

But with you? it's different.

It started subtly—small challenges, little battles of dominance. He’d push, you’d push back. He’d provoke, you’d match his energy effortlessly.

At first, he saw it as a game, a battle of wits. But then you started winning.

You’d tug his chin up slightly when he got too smug. You’d lean in too close when he challenged you, never breaking eye contact. And one day, during a particularly heated argument, you grabbed his jaw and tilted his head up, forcing him to look at you.

"be good for me, Michael." And he forgot how to breathe.

His usual sharp retorts? Gone. His smirk? Completely wiped off his face. All that confidence? Replaced with something dangerously close to surrender.

That's when you knew. Kaiser loves to be dominated.

He’d never admit it, of course. But every time you take control, every time you put him in his place, every time you murmur something too smooth, too firm, too certain—he breaks.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even try to fight it.

[daydreamabout]

The Line That Was Crossed [Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: Y/N and Tim end up in Sergeant Grey's office.

The afternoon was unusually quiet at the LAPD precinct, and Tim Bradford couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. It was one of those rare shifts where things seemed a little too calm, which only ever meant one thing: trouble was about to strike. As he sat at his desk, reviewing case files and making notes, he couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N, who was across the room, casually leaning back in her chair and chatting with Smitty. She looked relaxed, but Tim knew that beneath her easy-going exterior, she was just as alert as he was. They’d been working together for over a year now, and in that time, they’d become more than just partners. They’d become something deeper, more personal. Officially, their relationship was still lowkey at work. They’d agreed that it was easier to keep things professional in front of their colleagues, but the unspoken tension and affection between them was always there, simmering just below the surface.

But today, something was different. There was a fire in Y/N’s eyes—something Tim hadn’t noticed until it was too late. He was halfway through a phone call when it happened. A call came in on the radio for a suspected drug deal going down in a nearby alley. Tim immediately grabbed his gear, but before he could turn to Y/N, she was already up and moving, her eyes locked on the door like she was already ten steps ahead.

“Come on, we’ve got work to do,” Y/N said, her voice sharp with determination.

Tim nodded, grabbing his own vest and weapon. “Let’s do this.”

As they arrived at the alley, the tension in the air was thick. The usual suspects were there—two men standing near a car, speaking in low tones, exchanging what looked like a bag of cash. Tim’s instincts were on high alert, but it was Y/N’s energy that was throwing him off. She was moving faster than he expected, eyes narrowed, every muscle tense, but not with caution—no, it was more like she was ready to explode.

“Y/N, slow down!” Tim called out, reaching for her arm, but she was already halfway across the alley.

“Let’s end this,” she snapped, her voice cold as she approached the men.

Tim’s eyes widened. He could already see how this was going to go down. They weren’t dealing with some simple street thugs—they were connected, and any wrong move could escalate things in a heartbeat. Tim started after her, trying to get her to stop before the situation spiraled.

“Y/N!” Tim’s voice was sharper now, his hand on her shoulder, pulling her back gently. “This is a setup—wait for backup!”

But she wasn’t listening. “I don’t need backup,” Y/N said, her voice tight, almost angry. She wasn’t backing down. “These guys aren’t walking away this time. You said it yourself: enough is enough.”

Before he could respond, one of the suspects turned and saw them, and that’s when everything went sideways. The man jerked his hand out of his pocket, and without thinking, Y/N pulled her weapon, pointing it at the man’s chest.

“Drop it!” Y/N shouted, her voice filled with authority, but there was an edge to it—one that made Tim’s stomach drop. He knew her—knew she wasn’t a loose cannon—but this was different. Her finger was on the trigger, and her breath was coming a little too fast.

“Y/N, no!” Tim shouted, rushing forward to intercept her, but it was too late.

The situation had already escalated. The suspect made a move—quick, jerking to the side—and Y/N flinched, her weapon trembling slightly in her hands. Tim grabbed her wrist just as the shot fired, but it wasn’t aimed at the suspect. The bullet slammed into the wall next to them, creating a cloud of dust and debris.

“Drop the gun, now!” the other suspect shouted, pulling his own weapon, aiming it at them.

The situation was out of control, and Tim could see it in Y/N’s eyes—she had reacted in a way that wasn’t like her. It was raw, impulsive, and now they were both in danger because of it.

“Put the gun down!” Tim barked at the suspect, trying to regain control of the scene. “You don’t want to do this.”

Thankfully, backup arrived just in time, and the standoff ended with the suspects being arrested without any further shots fired. Tim and Y/N both were shaken, but as they watched the officers cuff the men and lead them away, Y/N’s hands were still shaking slightly.

Tim’s anger was building now, though not directed at the suspects. He turned to Y/N, his voice low but firm. “What the hell was that, Y/N?”

She glared back at him, her face tight with frustration. “I was doing my job, Tim. I don’t need you babying me.”

Tim’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t babying you. You were about to make a mistake. I know you’re pissed about the case, but you can’t let it cloud your judgment. You almost got us both killed out there.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed, but she didn’t argue. She knew he was right—part of her had been itching for something like this, something that would let her take all the frustration out on someone. But she knew she had crossed a line, and it felt worse than it should.

Tim softened his tone, trying to reach her. “Look, I get it. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, but this isn’t the way to handle it.”

But before Y/N could respond, a voice interrupted them.

“Bradford, Y/N—get in my office. Now,” Sergeant Grey’s voice rang out, cold and commanding.

Tim and Y/N exchanged a look. They both knew what this meant.

Ten minutes later, they stood in Sergeant Grey’s office, the door shut behind them. Grey’s stern expression was enough to make anyone nervous, but Tim and Y/N had been in enough trouble before to know this was different. Sergeant Grey stood with his arms crossed, his gaze flicking between the two of them. “Care to explain what the hell happened out there?” he asked, his voice even but heavy with disapproval. Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Tim cut her off, his voice steady. “It was my fault, Sarge. I should’ve stopped her before it escalated.”

Sergeant Grey narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about you protecting her, Bradford. This is about judgment. Both of you crossed a line out there, and it’s not something I take lightly.”

Y/N’s face tightened with frustration, but she didn’t interrupt. She knew she’d messed up, and this wasn’t the time for excuses.

“You’ve been partners long enough to know how to keep it together, but today, you didn’t. Y/N, you were reckless. And Bradford, you let her be reckless. The next time, someone won’t be as lucky.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her stomach turning with the weight of his words. “I... I didn’t mean for it to go down like that,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I just—I got caught up in the moment.”

“I know,” Sergeant Grey replied, his tone softening slightly. “But when you're out there, you don't have the luxury of acting on instinct alone. You need to think, not react. You're both better than that. So, this is your warning. Don’t let it happen again.”

There was a heavy silence as both Tim and Y/N nodded in acknowledgment.

Sergeant Grey gave them one last, long look before finally speaking. “Alright. You’re both dismissed. But remember—out there, we don’t just watch each other’s backs. We trust each other to keep it cool. Now, get back to work.”

As they left his office, Tim couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. He’d been right to be protective of Y/N, but in doing so, he’d let the situation spiral out of control. Y/N was usually the one to stay level-headed, but today, she’d let her emotions take over.

“You okay?” Tim asked as they walked down the hall, his voice low.

Y/N took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. Just... got carried away. I’ll do better.”

He gave her a small smile, offering his silent support. "We both will."

[naebaetwsog]

「・RIIZE as your boyfriend°×

genre.Fluff

warning.Ot7(ig that’s a warning??)

pairing.Bf!Rii7e x fem!reader

note.If I say that I was crying writing this, and I was also crying while choosing the cover photo, I really miss our 03liners. Anyways, this is my fist riize fic, reminder that you can request other groups too!!

Shotaro

Your #1 fan, personal hype man, and ultimate softie. You are his literal baby—no exceptions. He spoils you endlessly, never showing up empty-handed on dates, always surprising you with little gifts. If you’re apart, he demands FaceTime calls at night, whining, “I can’t sleep without your presence…” Your personal space? Doesn’t exist. His clothes are now yours, and he loves seeing you in them. Dancing everywhere, even in the grocery store? Mandatory. You don’t know how? He doesn’t care—he’s twirling you around anyway. He showers you with compliments 24/7, making sure you never forget how much he loves you.

Eunseok

Cool and composed? Only with others. With you, he’s a total softie. But make no mistake—he’s crazy overprotective. If someone so much as glances at you the wrong way, he’s already cursing their ancestors. He spoils you without hesitation; you don’t even need to ask—just look at something, and it’s yours. You are not safe from his dad jokes, though. You could be in the middle of cuddling, and he’ll drop the corniest joke, leaving you groaning while he laughs at his own humor. He loves making you mad just because he thinks you’re adorable when you pout.

Sungchan

Simp? Understatement. You say sit, he sits. You say jump, he jumps. Honestly, he’s barking for you. Just thinking about you puts him in heart-eyes mode. Everyone knows how much he loves you—he makes sure of it. Someone stares at you for too long? He’s ready to throw hands. His personal space? Doesn’t exist when it comes to you. He even holds your hand when you go to the bathroom “What if you get kidnapped?!”. One week into the relationship, he’s already talking about marriage. But don’t be fooled—he will tease you, especially about your height, and be the most annoying boyfriend ever in the best way possible.

Wonbin

Mysterious? Only to strangers. With you? He’s a full-on clingy baby. If he’s not glued to you in some way, he’s simply not functioning. He spoils you to no end, handing you his credit card before you even ask. His clothes are automatically yours, and your mood? His mood. If you’re upset, he feels it. He’s confident, but still gets jealous—even though he’s literally one of the most handsome men alive. He tries to play it cool, but the moment someone gets a little too friendly, he’s suddenly extra affectionate, pulling you closer and reminding everyone that you’re his.

Seunghan

Simp Pt. 3. He’s obsessed with you in the most wholesome way. Personal space? What’s that? You’re never alone—if you turn around, he’s right there. Matching outfits every day, not negotiable. He only has eyes for you; no one else even exists in his world. He expresses his love in a million small ways, from adjusting your scarf in the cold to remembering your favorite snacks. If you’re feeling down, he drops everything to comfort you, whispering how much he loves you and will always be by your side.

Sohee

He tries to act all cool and manly, but let’s be real—he’s a total softie when it comes to you. He’s not big on physical affection, but he needs some part of him touching you at all times—whether it’s a pinky linked with yours or his foot brushing against yours under the table. Instead of physical touch, he expresses love through acts of service and words of affirmation. Good morning and good night texts are a daily routine. He surprises even himself by being the first one to say, “I love you.”

Anton

The biggest simp of them all. His brain is permanently on “reader brainrot” mode. If he’s not thinking about you, he’s making memes about you. You have so many inside jokes that one look from him can make you both burst out laughing. He always gives you his oversized hoodies because you look ridiculously tiny in them, and he lives for it. Spoils you way too much, especially if you’re into collecting cute things (“One more Sunny Angel won’t hurt…”). The way he adores you is unreal—he just wants to make you the happiest person alive.

[paperyowl]

Saltommy, Gen, Kids

+++

"What's up with you today?"

Sal had asked it full of amusement, but Tommy instantly started to pull away like he'd been scolded. He didn't get very far when Sal's arm around him tightened, a complaining noise leaving him as soon as Tommy wasn't plastered along his side anymore. The transgression was corrected immediately, and Tommy stayed wedged in between the back of the couch and the warm heat of his boyfriend.

"I didn't say stop."

Affection didn't usually come easy to Tommy. At least not in this very physical way, where he kept having to fight this urge to touch the people he loved constantly. But with Sal, that was all he wanted: holding hands, folding into hugs, sneaking kisses.

Maybe it was an after-effect of hiding for so long. All the time under Gerrard. After him, too, for long months - and then still only opening up in fractions. To Sal first, and then to Sal foremost. Confessions with lips against lips.

But Sal was right; Tommy wanted to be even closer today, could hardly fight this impossible need of wanting to crawl right into Sal's ribcage and live there forever, safe and warm and - metaphorically. He needed to calm down. Before Sal figured out what had him all twisted up.

"Are you going to tell me?" Sal prompted. "Something happen while I wasn't looking when you picked me up earlier?"

Tommy could feel the heat in his face, probably spectacularly betraying him - and Sal's fingers moving to span over his jaw wouldn't let him tilt it down either. If anything, their grip grew insistent, turning Tommy's face back to Sal. The hold was a little reminiscent of how one might hold a child still to clean his face off - except there was nothing but embarrassment on Tommy's face, and he highly doubted that Sal would wipe it off.

Knowing Sal, he'd do the opposite -

"My, my," Sal cooed. "Don't tell me you had - improper thoughts about me?"

The gasp in the middle of that sentence had been dramatic even for Sal, and the mocking was entirely uncalled for. Tommy hadn't thought anything even remotely dirty. Even if it would have been an easy out to take, Tommy ignored it entirely because he'd promised himself that he wasn't that person anymore - the one who hid, and lied, and kept in the shadows - and he could stand his ground.

Tommy could admit that he'd watched the 122 herd a group of kids through the station. Or rather, he'd watched Sal very specifically. Helping a little boy up one of the engines and talking to him in a quiet voice that Tommy couldn't pick up. He didn't need to - the smile on the kid's face was so bright, and Sal's answering grin had been even brighter.

That one moment, like a memory cast in amber, was as vivid an image in Tommy's mind as it had been when he'd watched. He ached with something that he couldn't quite put into words and didn't know how to communicate.

"I watched you with the kids," Tommy couldn't keep the tone out of his voice that betrayed he was admitting a secret. "You were so gentle with that boy."

I think you would be a good father.

"I just. I wanted."

He couldn't say it. The words seemed too big, too scary to put out in the world. What if that mocking edge turned cruel enough to cut the tender part of him? How could he pretend to laugh about something that he wanted so badly? What if he scared Sal away?

Tommy took another breath to speak, not even sure how he would save that horrendous fumble of his. But whatever words he had caught in his throat, when Sal brushed a thumb over his lips, humming in consideration.

"Don't worry. Any kid of ours would still always love you best."

A soft smile, warm eyes - and, oh. Tommy loved him impossibly. Too much, probably. Like being swallowed by the sun, drowning in the ocean, or not being able to breathe at all.

"Breathe, Tom," Sal insisted, cupping the side of his neck. "Not just yet, of course."

Tommy grabbed at Sal's shirt, fingers twisting too tightly - he laughed, a hysterical note taking over. Sal caught him, not minding the mess of him at all, soothing little motions of his hands, directing Tommy into the circle of his arms. But Sal wouldn't be Sal if he didn't continue to push: "We should get married first."

[vanilladollette]

Can you please write part 2 of yandere headcanons for Jae Jun and yandere headcanons for do yeong?

(If it's comfortable for you can you please write nsfw headcanons for them too?)

Yandere Jeon Jae-Joon, Ha Do-yeong Headcanons

Pairing: Jeon Jae-Joon x reader, Ha Do-yeong x reader (Separate)

Author's note: I had to go back and edit it because I forgot it was a gn reader 😭🙏🏻

Jeon Jae-Joon

Jae-joon is insanely possessive of you. You’re not just his spouse—you’re his everything, and he makes sure the world knows it.

If another man so much as looks at you, Jae-joon is already sizing him up, deciding to beat him senseless.

He doesn’t believe in boundaries when it comes to you. Where you go, who you see, what you do—he wants to know everything.

Jae-joon thrives on control, but he’s not subtle about it. If he wants something from you, he’ll demand it.

He hates when you disobey him or try to push him away—it makes him desperate, and desperation leads to dangerous actions.

If you ever tried to leave him, expect him to hunt you down, drag you back, and make sure you never think of leaving again.

“You’re mine. I don’t care what it takes—you’ll always be mine.”

If he sees someone flirting with you, he will immediately react, whether it’s throwing punches or making sure that person loses everything.

He has zero remorse about ruining lives for your sake. If someone tries to take you from him, they’ll simply disappear.

He’ll remind you that no one else can love you the way he does.

Soft for You Only

You are his only weakness. He can be a monster to the world, but to you? He just wants to be loved.

When you hold him, when you kiss him, he melts. He lives for your affection.

The only time he lets his guard down is when you're with him, safe in his arms.

NSFW

Jae-joon doesn’t hold back in bed.

He’s aggressive, passionate, and absolutely obsessed with making you feel owned.

He grips your hips so tightly they bruise, bites your skin to mark you, and growls into your ear, reminding you that you belong to him.

He hates the idea of anyone else even imagining you this way.

The only name you’ll be moaning is his, and he’ll make sure of that.

He forces eye contact, making you say his name over and over.

After he’s absolutely wrecked you, he pulls you into his arms, running his hands through your hair, pressing soft kisses against your skin.

Ha Do-yeong

Do-yeong isn’t loud about his yandere tendencies—he’s silent, patient, and suffocating.

He watches you closely, controlling every aspect of your life without you realizing it.

You’ll never escape him, not because he’ll chase you, but because he’s already planned so far ahead that there’s nowhere for you to go.

Do-yeong doesn’t rely on threats—he uses guilt, persuasion, and logic to make sure you stay.

“Why would you leave, my love? I’ve given you everything. Are you unhappy?” His tone is gentle, but the message is clear—you can’t leave.

He makes you feel like you need him—even if deep down, you know he’s the one trapping you.

He doesn’t get violent—he doesn’t need to. If someone tries to take you from him, they’ll find their entire life ruined overnight.

He ensures that no matter what, you always end up back in his arms.

“You don’t need to fight me, sweetheart. This is for your own good.”

Do-yeong worships you. You’re his perfect spouse, his greatest treasure.

He doesn’t love you normally—his love is overwhelming, inescapable, and eternal.

No matter what happens, he will never let you go.

NSFW

He takes his time, building you up slowly, whispering how much he loves you, how you’ll never belong to anyone else.

He makes you beg for him. He’ll tease you endlessly, dragging out pleasure until you’re pleading for release, making you say, “I’m yours, only yours.”

He never raises his voice, even in the bedroom. But the way he commands you—low, deep, and unwavering—makes you shiver. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. That’s it….”

He decides when and how you come. He holds your wrists, keeps your legs open, making you take everything he gives you.

He decides when and how you come. He holds your wrists, keeps your legs open, making you take everything he gives you.

He wipes you down gently, kisses your forehead, and holds you close. But his grip is firm, his touch lingering—a silent promise that you’ll never escape him.

Taglist: @petersasteria

[theamityelf]

How are Makoto's ships (your favs) yanderes with him? What are their dynamics? How do they act with the "romantic rivals"? Whether jealousy, possessiveness or obsession are Makoto's friends and family affected?(Thanks for making Yandere dynamics so interesting I'm your fan!)

Thank you for giving me a yandere question, lol!

Okay, so you said to write my favs, but as I started this I realized that I have many favs, so this post is just going to be my THH favs (for Makoto ships) and later I'll do an SDR2 one with Hajime, Nagito, Izuru, etc.

Besides the examples of yandere behavior I already have them exhibiting in my fics, I'm thinking the paremeters of this post will just be them under 100% normal circumstances. So, pre-Tragedy or No Tragedy, standard life stuff.

Kyoko (Naegiri)

She isn't hiding that she's a yandere, but she also isn't open about it. Her attitude toward it is basically, "If you can figure it out yourself, I don't mind if you know."

She's an extremely effective stalker. She knows everything about Makoto. She has samples of his hair. His fingerprints. She can replicate his handwriting. She knows where he goes and with who and when.

She usually doesn't kill rivals. She'll get them arrested for a crime they've done or frame them for a crime they haven't done. She won't hesitate to kill in self-defense or to protect Makoto, but as far as jealousy is concerned, murder is just too messy for her, when it's so convenient to be the Ultimate Detective.

Even if someone 100% figures out what she's doing and successfully convinces the authorities of it, the most she can get in trouble for is being wrong about a case. Which honestly probably won't even particularly harm her reputation. I guess in a world where Hope's Peak is a thing, maybe people are really keeping track of how well this detective is finding the right criminal, but really the only stakes there are how much people believe in her talent. She's fine.

Since she's still occasionally brought Makoto along on cases and generally used him for her detective work, in this timeline (without the killing game), there's a chance that he might one day come across the right information to realize that she's been framing people.

If he confronts her about this, she would honestly be flattered that he's been looking over her work and proud that he reached the right conclusion. (I'm picturing her hand-to-face slightly-smiling sprite.)

If he continues to press her about it, she'll go serious and basically ask him what he's going to do about it.

Most likely they can talk through the fact that she's a yandere and figure out next steps from there, but there's a non-zero chance that they break up over this and she frames him for something. The idea isn't to send him to jail; it's a fear tactic. Basically, she's made him a suspect. If they don't work out their couple drama, she'll accuse him of the crime. If they do work out their couple drama, she'll remove the suspicion from him.

It's like a game of chicken, where Makoto wants to stand his ground but doesn't want to go to jail and Kyoko wants to make him give in but doesn't want to send him to jail. Either she bends, he bends, or (theoretically) he goes to jail. (He's not going to jail.)

Byakuya (Naegami)

(Full disclosure, having just finished typing this section, I'm not 100% proud of it, so I might revisit this idea later.)

He's rich, so there's already an entitlement to him. I think his initial plans for how to deal with his yandere feelings (and honestly most subsequent plans) get derailed by Makoto. Initially, he wants to make Makoto his personal assistant, so he can be completely in control of Makoto's life. He plans it all out: where and how Makoto will live, what his schedule will be, how he'll make sure he never dates or marries.

Instead, Makoto turns down the job offer. Fine, he'll just make sure no other companies hire him, and then he'll have to accept, right?

Actually, Makoto befriends him. They start dating. Byakuya...didn't plan for that.

(And he's trying to hide that he's a yandere. Any desires or impulses that come from a yandere place, he expresses them as "I just have very high standards." He'd hate to come across as needy or sentimental.)

But he still wants to control where and how Makoto lives and who he's allowed to talk to. Makoto opposes this, but Byakuya is underhanded. If he insists on chatting with the waitstaff when they go out to eat, that waiter is getting fired later. Byakuya will hire hitmen, he'll manipulate the stock market, he has nothing but resources at his disposal to get rid of annoying people.

However, Makoto holds a lot of emotional power over Byakuya. Byakuya is not able to lord over Makoto his ability to do these things, because if he did, Makoto would look at him with those eyes, and he can't handle that. The truly toxic behavior happens either in secret or as petty lashing-out when his awareness of how down-bad he is makes him feel too vulnerable.

All of that said, he likes to show Makoto off. He likes for people to see that Makoto is his. He just doesn't want people to see how thoroughly he is Makoto's.

Kyoko and Byakuya (Naegamigiri/Tonaegiri)

The vibe here is that either Kyoko slid effortlessly into the Naegami scenario or Byakuya did a hostile takeover of the Naegiri scenario. Byakuya is amenable to letting Kyoko into the Naegami scenario because she knows how to Info-chan her way in; Kyoko is trying to block Byakuya out of the Naegiri situation (not because she isn't into him, but because the dynamic there is a lot of belligerent sexual tension where it's enriching for both of them if he's The Villain) until he manipulates the situation using his resources.

They balance each other in a fun way. They don't get to be toxic toward Makoto, in this scenario, because the day Byakuya is a petty jerk is the day Kyoko gets to be Makoto's favorite (at least in their eyes) and vice versa. They only act out when they're in agreement about it. In which case, they will make people disappear.

"Hey," Makoto says, walking in with his arms crossed. (Kyoko and Byakuya are in the kitchen, having a weirdly sexually-charged debate about a historical cold case.) "Is there something you guys want to tell me?"

Byakuya and Kyoko both look at him warily, trying to figure out what he's figured out. There are a lot of things they've done that he could have found out about.

"This is entrapment," Byakuya says, raising an eyebrow.

"Legally speaking, no it isn't," Kyoko says, because the solidarity goes out the window so fast with these two. "Not even close."

(Byakuya glares at her, about to start a whole new argument.)

"Guys?" Makoto probes.

"We haven't done anything major in at least a week," Kyoko says, sipping a drink calmly.

"I was just on the phone with Sayaka," he helps them out. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"

"That your ex's foray into dark pop was an even worse career move than her foray into psychedelic pop?" Byakuya says.

Kyoko smirks into her drink.

(Long story short, they may have perhaps caused Sayaka to reroute her world tour so she can't be in town to meet up with Makoto.)

Sayaka (Naezono)

Sayaka is super open about it and seamlessly adopts it into her brand. She's posting pictures of Makoto on her social media with captions like "Love my bf 🥰 #yandere #killforhim #doneitbefore" and "He got me a big teddy bear! 🧸😍 #minenotyours #yandere".

Because she's so open about it, she'll sometimes get troll comments saying, "Sayaka, I want to date your boyfriend." She replies like, "You can try. 😇🔪". All her fans think it's adorable.

She brings him along to every event she attends. When bad luck stuff happens, she just giggles about it.

Makoto is kind of uneasy about all the attention, but he takes Sayaka's behavior mostly in stride. She's just quirky. And super affectionate.

One toxic trait is that she does not let him listen to anyone else's music. She doesn't express it as a rule; she'll just be like, "Oh, you wanted that old CD? I'm so sorry! I threw it out. I thought it was trash. 🥺" Casually replaces his radio with a CD player. Casually replaces every CD in his CD player with one of hers.

She makes posts like, "He only listens to my music. 🥹🥰 He's my biggest fan! ❤️‍🔥😭 #loml #yandere #blessed"

She's always singing to him. It makes him blush.

She doxes anyone who flirts with him, but in a "plausible deniability" way where she can be like, "What?! They got hurt?! Oh no!" if her fans attack or poison someone in her name.

She's willing to murder, but only in clever ways she'll definitely get away with. She'll murder one rival and frame another rival. Then she'll cry about the death so Makoto will comfort her.

Chihiro (Naehiro)

I just like the idea of the canon interactions where Chihiro is like, "I want to get stronger. Makoto, you seem strong. Can you help me?" and Makoto is like, "Actually, I'm not all that strong. Maybe ask Mondo?" still playing out and resulting in Chihiro getting so weird about it, potentially under Mondo's influence.

(While there are a lot of Free Time Events that I imagine happened the same way during the characters' Hope's Peak days, I think the Chihiro Free Time Events, minus the Alter Ego stuff, feel pretty killing game specific. Like, the immediate desire to get stronger feels pretty caused-by-the-motive. Just a headcanon, and I'm only bringing it up now to say that I'll be ignoring it for this post, lol. This post assumes that same interaction still happens without the killing game.)

Chihiro hears Makoto's "I'm not really all that strong" thing, and their reaction is basically, "Cool. Then I'm going to be the strong one in this relationship."

Byakuya says something rude to Makoto, and Chihiro gathers their resolve and says, "That's not nice, Togami. You need to apologize."

And if he doesn't, Chihiro hacks Togami Corp, resulting in a significant drop in stock value.

Chihiro is super excited about standing up for Makoto. It's pretty directly propping up their self-esteem.

And they very casually have him under constant surveillance. They conceal this fact from him, but not really because they think he'd be mad. (If they thought he'd be mad, they'd feel really bad about doing it!) It's just because they're shy. To them, watching him through security cameras as he walks through town is like writing "Makoto Fujisaki" and "Chihiro Naegi" all over a notebook. It's embarrassing.

They might kill for him, if someone tries to hurt him. Picture Chihiro covered in blood, with a corpse at their feet and a switchblade in their hand (Mondo gave it to them a long time ago, as a gift). They're kind of freaking out at first, but Makoto is there, too, also freaking out, so they have to be calm, they have to be calm for him. So they call Mondo to help them get rid of the body, and they take Makoto home to unpack what just happened.

Taka (Naeishi)

Honestly, I feel like this fic captures the whole vibe.

Mondo (Naemondo)

Oh boy. I like to think this one has some internal struggle to it. Like, Mondo falls for Makoto, and he's all shy about wooing him. He's bringing Makoto flowers, inviting him places. He tells Makoto, "I'm trying to clean up my act for ya..." Fewer fights, fewer crimes.

(I maintain that the Naemondo vibe where Mondo completely misreads Makoto as someone who can easily keep up with his gang shenanigans is very fun, but Yandere Mondo is different. Yandere Mondo is trying to shield Makoto from his lifestyle.)

He still has his temper, though, and he often goes behind Makoto's back to kill people who have been mean or relentlessly flirtatious. He's not killing anyone who likes Makoto. He's trying to be normal. But if someone can't take a hint, there's no telling what he'll do.

Basically, Yandere Mondo is in a gas station bathroom scrubbing blood out of his shirt so he can get back before Makoto notices he's gone.

When Makoto finds out what he's done, Mondo is crying apologizing, and Makoto calms him down and has to make peace with helping his boyfriend cover up a murder.

Taka, Mondo, and Chihiro (Naechishimondo)

You know, this one feels like it could be platonic.

Like, I could see that post where they realize they all have a crush on Makoto happening and then they unanimously decide that they'll be shovel-talking anyone who tries to woo him.

They all still have a crush on Makoto, but they approach it in kind of like he's an endangered bird who they've tagged to study. When they, as a throuple, gather for dates or events or just to hang out, they'll often be talking about things they've observed about Makoto's life through stalking and other means.

At dinner, Chihiro might say, "Makoto recently started using two-factor authentication for his email account. I'm so proud."

"Sh!t, does that make it hard for you to read his emails?" Mondo asks.

("Language, bro; we're at dinner," Taka interjects.)

"Nope," Chihiro says proudly. "It might make it hard for other people, though."

"I've noticed that Makoto tends to stay over too long when he studies in Sayaka's room," Taka says, "so I taught him how to set a timer on his phone."

(Chihiro smiles. Almost laughs.)

"Also, I got a wedge that he can use to keep the door open, so I won't have to keep chastising him for visiting a girl's room with the door closed. I plan to give it to him tomorrow."

"I'm sure he'll love it," Chihiro says.

"Doesn't Hiri already watch those sessions through Makoto's laptop camera anyway?" Mondo points out.

(Chihiro blushes modestly.)

"Yes, but Makoto doesn't know that," Taka says.

Honorable Mention:

Yandere Naekusaba

[yujibooty]

࿐ Yuji loves seeing you happy. Before you guys became something more, he noticed your extreme stoic personality. And when he finally saw your genuine smile, he knew he just had to have you.

It was hard trying to figure out your love language, what makes your true colors show.

One of the first ones to go were physical affection, you liked your space. Even though you’d give it up when Yuji whined long enough.

He loves his quiet partner. And he’d do his best to work around your stubbornness.

He was starting to resort to just asking you. Not that you’d give him a genuine answer. He just wanted to spoil you. He just wasn’t sure how :(

Without to much thought into it, he came home one day with a necklace.

He left it in its small box on top of your clothes you planned on wearing after your shower.

He was a bit anxious on how you’d react. Or if you would even like it at all. Running his hand through his hair as he sat in the living room.

Waiting on you, he’s eyes started growing heavy. He stopped fighting and began to let drowsiness take over until he felt a weight next to him.

Turning his head he sees you on the couch, your hair damp, and your face a bit flushed. He assumed because of the shower.

What was really catching his attention was how close you were. It was unusual. You were usually shy about these types of things. Your eyes everywhere except for him as evidence.

Hesitant, he puts his arm around your shoulder, and surprisingly you accept his embrace immediately, as if you were waiting on it. Your head resting on his chest.

Flustered, he looks down at you, he sees the necklace on your neck and he feels like he’s about to explode from happiness.

You fidget with it subconsciously, your eyes closed.

A crystal in the center that appeared as if the ocean crafted it, the deep shiny blue reminding you of your precious boyfriend.

You liked gifts.

~

After that day, he never seen you without it on. And when he did, he’d go remind you to put it on, and to his surprise you complied with no reluctance.

Gosh he was so love sick. :(

A random night he started a savings for a ring.

[toastytrusty]

ok so. class/imperial dynamics between hickey and crozier. they each represent a different side of imperialism and a different way it affects people. very important to note that the major messaging of the show emphasizes how there are no "good ones" or "bad ones" within imperialism; the WHOLE SYSTEM is rotten and destroys everything it touches. the men on the expedition don't just damage and destroy the people and world they meet, the men are damaged and destroyed by the expedition itself. the whole ordeal was wretched and made everything worse for everyone. Which leads to the fundamental difference between hickey and crozier: hickey recognizes this, and crozier doesn't. Kind of. They both have similar lower class backgrounds, and looked to the navy for social mobility. Crozier played by the rules and achieved power and status through it, and he believes in the sanctity of naval bureaucracy and hospitality, if only they go about things the right way. Hickey, however, was so far removed from the prospects of this social mobility that he had to lie and commit identity theft to gain access to it. He has suffered at the hands of the british empire, and never held any illusions about the nature of it; he recognizes the class system as oppressive and the imperial system as violent. He tries to use this to his advantage and to gain power over others, but he still recognizes it and hates it. While crozier is certainly Doing His Best and has Good Intentions and all that, all of his decisions still end up being harmful or disregarding, and all the harm done by anyone else on the expedition (including hickey) is done in his name, because he brought them here and he is their leader. When hickey kidnaps silna and brings her to the ships, crozier is disgusted at the way hickey makes the violent nature of their presence so apparent, and yet he Does Keep silna on the ships afterwards. hickey is punished for insolence and dereliction of duty moreso than the actual harm he caused. Crozier’s issue was with the way he went about his actions, rather than the actions themselves. It still serviced crozier, even if he was, on the surface, put off by it. And hickey did it because he expected crozier to appreciate it. He thought crozier recognized the same things he did. But he didn’t, and that’s where the break between them happens, moreso than during the lashing. Hickey realizes that crozier Doesn’t understand the same things he does, or see things the same way he does. He has assimilated into the naval structure far too much and, in hickey’s view, lost touch. Which is ironic, given that hickey’s whole identity theft was quite indicative of him abandoning his lower class background and any perspective it gave him. There’s a very interesting dichotomy there, of crozier always being honest about his lower class background, and yet achieving status regardless, and becoming fully entrenched in the imperial machine because of it, and hickey never being honest about his lower class background, never achieving status regardless, and still resenting the imperial machine the entire time.

Hickey views crozier as the embodiment of the british empire, and the ups and downs of his respect for him are indicative of the ups and downs of his feelings towards his own potential for betterment through the imperial system. I might be stretching here but to meeee hickey’s mutiny is representative of something like a bourgeois revolution. He views crozier’s command, and the larger system, as oppressive, and he views himself as entirely separate from it in some way, when really he just wants to take crozier’s place and implement a near identical system within his own camp. Hickey’s delusions of personal exceptionalism are quite significant all the way to the end, when he tries to fully sever himself from his britishness and sacrifice crozier to the tuunbaq. He thinks he is different, and that him recognizing the empire’s brutality makes him any less implicated in it. Of course, it doesn’t; he is still british and cannot separate himself from that, so the tuunbaq kills him. However, crozier kills the tuunbaq. He is still concluding the devastation the british cause here. Also crozier’s “you could have just joined up” is really interesting because it shows that even then he still believed in the accessibility and positive potential of the navy. He thinks hickey is foolish for his reservations and ill will, and is almost denying the idea that there would be anything preventing that.

[nieranddear]

Finally getting around to writing about it. Mostly since it would have needed to be contained inside the tags of the main post and there is no way this would’ve fit. It’s mostly just dialog rewrites, trying to keep it somewhat in character at the least, rereading on the characters and then debating over what to do, process of pain, and all that thinking stuff that makes my brain hurt. Typical things I'd put in the tags. Do know it is 1.6k words as a heads up.

I actually had an idea before that was written down the day of, as elaborated inside a post, but it felt really clunky and I couldn’t find the work around for it to make more sense or be natural than just having items go for a specific purpose than it feeling more akin to a decision made because it was a decision rather than a contrivance and necessity. Changed it the next day and did one draft for the dialog and then went into thumbnails. I didn’t think I would put this much effort into it? If I had known beforehand I would’ve definitely had done more time inside the planning stage to have it put out inside a form that I felt more content with. Specifically with the placement of dialog paired with the paneling. Some were fine but it ended up feeling as if it was either too claustrophobic, which I had attempted to fix later on by either condensing or moving some items around, or that it was either too fast pace wise. Hopefully it ended up alright in the end. I can’t quite remember as I didn’t write the exact thought process down but I tried to convey timing and feeling through the sizes of the panel and the background? Also typical comic or the like but I couldn’t tell if it was executed very well which is why it was brought up.

Ahhh the pacing was killing me. I tried to condense it but overall it just felt too rushed or unnatural. It still feels a bit unnatural but passable as simply awkward now. Already established and can be seen here but I tend to speak in a verbose manner. Either when explaining things or just talking in general when trying to communicate. Which also caused it to be drawn out. It was mainly the fact that I didn’t want to force an idea that felt too unnatural to me once more.

Actually interesting things. Dialog. And the two. These two. There was going to be a bit more teasing but it felt a bit off? Not sure. While Netzach did have words that were sarcastic or poking at the situation it was more of a dry, wry sort of thing than something he actually does often. Mostly out of that said hopelessness that was most present inside of LCorp. Though he is still one to complain it isn’t at an expense of himself or others. Along with the fact it was harder to try and find a situation to fit affection? Not so in the way to where it seemed impossible for a dynamic or relationship but more of the fact that typical situations of what I personally perceive to be relationships or romantic just wouldn’t flow. Netzach’s expression isn’t one of being loud. In multiple ways really. Not to say he doesn’t but in general his face isn’t as vividly expressive and his voice is quieter and he speaks inside a lethargic and slower way. This also transfers over to the experiencing of love and expressing of that love as well. Specifically when talking about or discussing the affection he had for Carmen it was a gentle but ever real and present adoration. Simply being content to go ahead and just be near her. To be near to see the passion and life inside of her eyes. But even with that affection the way he goes about to describe it is also very unsure? Not quite unsure but using language that isn’t as strong with the idea of ‘love’. It isn’t as if it is not there but it isn’t as if it was what one would call a typical, burning passion. Words such as ‘suppose’ only followed after a more lengthy pause to the idea of Carmen being his ‘first love’. Then going on to describe the dynamic by using the words provided. Along with ‘Was it love, really?’ to the first probing of the relationship and feelings towards Carmen. It felt odd if I went ahead and had such behaviors written down. Personally. Mostly due to the fact I wanted to try and express that more subtle or quiet showings of affections and adoration. No, I am not projecting. I just happen to be AroAce spec. Hashtag trust. Regardless, the way it was handled really stood out to me so I wanted to try and preserve that in a certain way or try to go ahead and have that shown in some manner. Things like his words about wanting to go ahead and express his emotions quietly down onto a painting. I wanted to try and have him do something like that and to capture that and more openly and physically present those emotions, that work and time, towards Yesod as another showing of affection. Plus the kiss on the cheek. I was debating keeping that in but a kiss is a more universal sign of communicating affection. Wanted to not have it on the lips for a sort of comfort thing? Like Yesod was already written on edge and a bit stressed due to the fact he was simply receiving things inside a showing of appreciation and affection and unable to go ahead and reciprocate or be able to return the favor or having planned to go ahead and physically do something. Adding onto the slight tension from being too close and trying to test the waters of being close. Putting it over here Yesod seems to be fine with space considering he quite literally walks up to Roland to touch and adjust his clothes. But it was more of the factors of getting inside of his space when already tense that I wanted to go ahead and be done. Going back to Netzach, the kiss was placed on the cheek inside a way to go ahead and still express that affection but still have it not be entirely inside of his space. A gentle cupping that could easily be stepped back away from but still a physical gesture. I kept going back to the idea of him wanting to try. Going to go ahead and try and attempt to do things. A whole thing with him is wanting to go ahead and try. Try to live. Try to put in the work. Try and actually put effort in. Which then translated over to wanting him to try and get himself to go and express and show that affection towards the other.

Yesod. Where do I start with you. Well I suppose continuing off of the idea of him being more ahh I can’t find the word. Anxious I suppose? I don’t know the correct feeling or word to adequately identify it. Alexithymia and all of that. But it the sort of feeling you get when you’re unable to do or complete something, causing a sort of restlessness and some sort of discomfort inside. Maybe that is anxiety. Regardless. The prospect of being unable to return or to be able to go ahead and repay inside the one sided exchange of items or words received. Wanted to have it to where it felt maybe wrong? Or the sort to go ahead and receive something without any prerequisite or action to balance it out. Thus having him more on edge and a bit more irritable during the conversation. Yesod himself is rather composed, really. The things he ended up becoming more worked up about were subjects where he was more passionate about an injustice. Even then he tends to collect himself after such matters. Even inside LCorp he was one to go ahead and be able to reign himself in and restrain himself inside his emotions. Even during the meltdown which is a bit funny to think about in an ironic way. Which is understandable considering everyone inside LCorp was far more unstable. But still under a situation that upsets or distresses he ends up expressing a temper that he does have. I wanted to try and have him be physically more stiff? On edge or just more tense at it all. Going ahead and opening up with sorting/rechecking/replacing of the books upon the shelf as a sort of way to soothe and get comfort and also physically actually do something while thinking. Any other thing to add would end up being the notes about trying to get their body language down and what to do with them. A slight tilt on Netzach’s head and shifting of it. General slouching. Was also debating keeping some of the body language in or not or just gesticulations but ended up keeping it in for the sake of it not being visually boring. Yesod with pauses and more stationary bodywise. Mostly only really small tilts or eye movement. 

Other patrons mentioned! I feel like they would be the types to go out and initiate some sort of gift giving. Maybe others responding or doing something in their own right afterwards but those few seemed like the type to have something planned or ready specifically just for the day. Tiphereth as well because despite her more snappy words and ruder sentences she can end up saying which she doesn’t really mean she does care for them all. So I thought it would be nice if Tiph went ahead and wanted to try and express or extend that showing because of that. Malkuth feels like the type to do some trinkets or the sort and more physical showings of affection through hugs and the like. Hod feels like the sort to go ahead and make personalized notes. Also fitting for the floor of literature patron. Chesed because he is a social creature and also likes excuses to go ahead and visit or see others and just chat.

hoptal

[jackass-jones]

The anguish I feel knowing no story is ever gonna have characters as good as the letter 😔

[orphiicheartd]

Both Robin and Sunday have exceptional control over their thought projection, having barred their minds from being perceived or read by others, even fellow Halovians even each other, but their fine-tune control goes right out the window whenever they find themselves enamoured by someone

[brujc]

I find it so interesting that we don't have much Akane info on the new TL!! Makes lot of room for personal interpretations!

Akane and Aoi were definitely still in touch in this new TL but their relationship must've been veryyyy different without the whole confession/rejection and constantly-tip-toeing-the-line-between-ambiguous-and-romantic-relationship dynamic going on.

First of all, Aoi really changed in this world from the changes it indirectely induced in her life : being Teru's acquaintance and having the "engaged" status made her way more..let's say open? Sincere? A lot less well-guarded! She doesn't seem to have as much weigh on her shoulders and yknow she's just more honest!

She just seem overall more willing to express her emotions instead of hiding them! And more straightforward (through this whole new TL arc).

Then, we have a probably very big change in Akane's attitude towards Aoi. With her engaged status, she isn't "available" anymore and he surely didn't do all the "courting" he did in the original TL, not when she is bound to be with someone else (maybe he did when it just started but must've stopped way before the current point in the story). Aoi probably didn't really indulge him either : she had to make her mother happy after her dad left, she couldn't afford to let her down, couldn't let her feelings make the act break.

Then, Akane's public display of affection is probably gone too since Aoi and Teru have to keep up the appearances of a happy couple at school- him interfering too much would create rumors and stuff.

So yeah no constant affirmations of his undying love, no confessions, no rejections either. Just...feelings that are definitely there for each other from what we've seen of Aoi's POV but cannot be acted upon.

No Akane constantly rebuilding himself around her either tho. With that gone, he probably acted more like his "usual" self (the blunt, still intense Akane) around her then. Just his casual personality. (Makes me wonder how he joined the student council in this timeline! Probably not to make Aoi swoon for him this time? What else could there be tho..)

So to me, new TL Akane and Aoi would have a bit more distant relationship, but with much more.."themselves"(?) behaviour around each other than in original TL (not to say they weren't already but..I can't quite pinpoint the word I'm looking for haha. I see their relationship as much less sweet and soft and more of a down to earth one. More toned-down romantic than romantic romantic).

I like to think they used to hangout really often when they were kids, playing in parks like in that one flashback from Aoi, talking to each other through the balcony and meeting at houses...At the start of the engagement Akane was maybe angry? He tried to find some solution to break it off and used to drag Aoi into secret meetings and plans work-throughs to get her out of it. Aoi would think with him, watch him work, smile with him and let him hope, while knowing in the back of her mind that he didn't stand any chance. Inevitably, they grew apart by the years, still longing for each other and wanting something ,but knowing they couldn't have it. This time, they weren't meant to be, or maybe they were, but the ropes fate tied to their hands made shoulders brush and touches linger but forbid them from getting anything more. Anything they wanted.

I like to think that they both are salty about the situation and occasionally take jabs at each other when they feel particularly frustrated. That there's an omnipresent tension between them whenever they interact. There's that acknowledgment of their feelings for each other they both know are there but well that goes unsaid cause what can they do about it anyway?

Sometimes they let their sadness show. They let the other see how much they wished for better circumstances. They're silently confort each other, they act close and let themselves dream a little... And then back to square zero, up again is the wall that separates them, the wall that doesn't let him tell her, the wall that doesn't let her tell him, but is cruel enough to let them dig through it and hang on to that hope. Maybe one day, he thinks; at least one day..she whispers, as they silently dig and dig and pierce holes in that thick, thick wall, never big enough to go through, never small enough to ignore. Two fools dreaming about what could've been, hands bloodied and bruised and dirty but with a miniscule dent to the other side and that's enough to make them continue. Cause they're too stubborn to let go.

So, when they come across each other they exchange proper greetings, they talk politely and if chapped fingernails and poorly masked cuts are seen, that goes unsaid.

Sometimes, they let themselves indulge. Because in reality, they're as much builders as they're diggers . And this old construction of theirs isn't as thick as they like to pretend. It isn't thick enough to stop their heart from aching. Never thin enough to make them give up on it. Too much to stop them from digging into. Built on the most unsteady grounds , it is bound to crumble again and again and again. And foolish as they are, they let themselves dream a little before putting the bricks back on. Truly, what were they if not dreamers?

And so, they drop the act. It not like they were ever acting anyway : never did they try to deny what they had for each other; they just had to tone it down cause what else but problems would that bring if they didn't?

She calls him "Kane" and he calls her "Ao", the nicknames a mockery of their situation, their actual status that will never be more than "Akane-kun" and "Aoi-san" , their linked fingers a bitter joke and the couple on that big screen dry, cruel, irony of the worst kind.

Still. They let their hands squeeze tighter together, their knees brush gently on the sofa. She doesn't acknowledge it. He doesn't either. And like countless times before, he almost leans in and closes the gap, weren't he wasn't painfully aware of the singular bell displayed on her neck, hauntingly - almost supernaturally glowy, matching with a bracelet he definitely didn't want to think about, especially now.

He leans back and he's sure she caught him. And just like every other time, she turns doesn't say a word, caught up in her thoughts. Just like every other time, he saw a glint in her eyes when he got closer that seemed to yell "Will you do it this time, coward?". And he just knows his own coppers mirrored this. Will I do it this time? That was a funny question, because it was pointless. Because he knows he won't. He wants to - to break that damn line they set up in the sand ever since her mother started requesting for them to see each other less. He wants to let her do what she wants, walk off of that road they built for her. Heck- he wants to be selfish for once. But he knows that he will regret it in the end because what would this do but hurt them? Getting a glimpse of freedom made the ache hurt more and he couldn't bear causing her to be in pain. In the ends he just wants her to be happy.

" My, my, you can't do that to an engaged young-woman, 'Kane ♥" she said after some time. But there was no mischief in her tone and her eyes were oh so sad. It made his heart clench.

"...Right." he answered. I wish you didn't have to be, he wanted to add. He didn't.

...They were truly one of a pair, holding on to this ambiguous relationship for far longer than they should've when rings and shrines and electric blues were in the picure.

But when he looked at her, he knew he could never have it any other way.

Three words hanged heavy on his tongue. He found it hard to let them out, but it was no surprise : ever since this engagement, he forbid himself from ever pronouncing them. He turned his gaze back on her.

I love you, he thought, as he picked a brick back up.

Ahh doomed Aoiaoi I love you..

Wish I were OG TL Terry rn to know more about them..

Trying to get new timeline info to write the fic and i'm dying i have NOTHING on new timeline Akane

I guess Akane becoming depressed/distressed about Aoi engagement happen in the New Timeline too?? Aoi at least doesn't seem surprised by it, just... sad.

She still calls him Akane-kun so they must have contact still?? So how do their convos go, it must be so awkward, save me. And where does Teru fit into all of this? i want to explode-