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leaentries · 2 days

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let them eat cake | nico hischier

SUMMARY: when mrs.cap learns that cake can serve more than one purpose

WARNINGS: food play, slight boob worship, slight nipple play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, swearing, not proofread

WC: 2.97k

A/N: guess who’s back from the dead ! i hope you will take this nico fic as a form of apology for my lack of content recently !

the captain’s girl masterlist!

The familiar blaring of an alarm broke through the warm, golden atmosphere of the bedroom. Sunlight bounced amongst the beige walls, as the air slightly blew against them. Realizing Nico must have left the balcony door open, you managed to peel an eye open to gaze at the sleeping man beside you.

His chest rose and fell in deep breaths, signaling he was still locked in his restful slumber. You took a moment to admire the youthful lines of his shaven face, taking note of every mark he had. The straight swoop of his nose, or the curve of his eyebrows; you swore to commit them to memory. Your eyes trailed down to his neck, where his chain dangled loosely to the side. A sweet smile found home on your lips as you watched his nose scrunch slightly in his sleep.

However, your morning bliss was interrupted by Nico’s phone, which, once again, began to scream with that god-forsaken alarm.

Very carefully, you lifted your body onto your left arm, maneuvering yourself to grab his phone and hit the “stop” button. As it would be, you didn’t quite make it that far before collapsing halfway onto the sleeping boy.

Nico’s body jolted at the sudden weight, hands immediately going to hold your hip and the arm that now lay limp across his chest.

“Jesus, schatzi,” His voice rumbled with sleep, “What are you doing?”

You sheepishly grinned at him, “‘M sorry, Neeks. I was trying to turn off your alarm so it wouldn’t make you cranky this morning.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Cranky? I’m never cranky in the mornings. I think you’ve got me confused with someone else, baby.”

“Ah, so you're not the guy who almost chucks his phone at the wall every morning because his alarm is so obnoxiously loud?”

Nico gave you a deadpan look.

You shrugged at him, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Yeah, yeah” He quickly flipped you over, his heavy body now pressing into yours, “I’d be careful with what you say.”

His lips placed slow, hot kisses down your jaw, only stopping once he met your earlobe. He bit lightly, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

Nico’s voice came out in a rough whisper, “After all, I’m very cranky in the mornings.”

Nico removed himself from you, taking away the warmth of his thick muscle. Making his way to the bathroom, he gave you a quick wink and a smug smile. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to control the ache that now resided in your core.

“You suck, Hischier!”

Well, happy birthday to you.

While Nico took his time in the shower getting ready for the day, you took it upon yourself to start making a big breakfast for the two of you.

Although it was your birthday, you still wanted to do something sweet for the both of you to enjoy. You had been looking forward to sharing an intimate meal with him first thing in the morning. Yet, if you were being honest, you never cared to make a fuss over your birthday.

It just never occurred to you to care so much.

As you scraped the last bits of your breakfast out of the pan, you heard Nico’s heavy steps approaching the kitchen.

“Mmmm,” He sniffed the air with a dog-like fervor, “Something smells good.”

You nodded towards the two plates, that now sat full, on the island top. “I made us a big breakfast this morning. I thought it would be nice to spend some time together today. Especially since you’ve been busy with all the away games the past few weeks.”

Nico walked up behind you, hands circling your full waist with a squeeze.

“That sounds perfect, schatzi.”

Grabbing your hand, Nico helped you make your way into the high-top seat, carefully pushing you in before finding his way next to you. He gave you a quick peck, reaching to pull your legs to drape across his lap.

Your stomach argued with hunger, prompting you to finally satisfy your morning needs. You closed your eyes in bliss at the warm taste of your favorite breakfast. Ever since you were a child, you had this same meal every year. Yet, it never failed to bring back the same excitement and nostalgia as it did when you were little.

“Fuck,” Nico mumbled under his breath, “Don’t make that face, baby. It’s too early for me to be hard.”

You fluttered your eyes innocently, “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

However, you most certainly did. And the evidence was currently pressing into your calf.

A low groan escaped his mouth as you dragged your legs slowly from his lap. Grabbing the empty plates, you made a show of your hips in the short walk to the sink. Carefully placing them in the metal confinement, rough hands came to pull you back.

“Oh!” A squeal echoed into the kitchen as Nico walked your body back to the counter. His large fingers gripped your wrists, pinning them to the cabinet above you. Nico’s face dangled teasingly too far for your aching lips.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, schatzi.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth, “Swaying that pretty ass in my face.”

Nico shook his head in disapproval, “‘S not fair to me, baby.” His deep eyes only seemed to grow bigger, “Why are you being mean to me?”

You furrowed your brows in a pout, “‘M not being mean.”

“Oh yeah, you are.” He moved one of your hands back down to cup his heavy length straining against the fabric of his sweats. “Think just because you’re the birthday girl, you get to be a brat? Is that it?”

You huffed in annoyance. You should have known Nico wouldn’t give in to you so easily, even if it was your special day. Deciding to continue your ploy, you gave him your best puppy eyes, “No, Neeks.” You bit your lip, “I just want my favorite birthday present.”

Nico didn’t miss the way your eyes scanned his body, your orbs lingering on his throbbing erection. He could feel his resolve faltering at your sultry gaze, his body naturally leaning in to press against yours.

Although, just as Nico’s lips were about to finally slot on your awaiting ones, his phone blared loudly for the umpteenth time that morning. Nico’s forehead dropped to your shoulder in defeat.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He mumbled, “Gotta go to morning skate.”

Even though you knew he had to leave, you couldn’t help but feel slightly dejected. You nodded understandably, acknowledging his predicament.

Nico picked his head up, placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, “I promise, I’ll make it up to you when I get back, birthday girl.”

As soon as Nico had left and the remnants from breakfast had been cleaned up, you easily found yourself falling into a peaceful nap on the couch. Yet, as quickly as your eyes shut, they opened again at the feeling of warm lips trailing your shoulder.

“Wake up, schatzi,” Nico’s warm voice soothed your sleepy mind, “I brought you something.”

Intrigued, you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

‘Wha’dya bring?”

Nico’s mouth quirked up, “Come with me to the kitchen and find out.”

Giving in to the curiosity, you rose from the couch and followed your boyfriend into the homey room. You felt your breath stop for a moment at the lopsided cake that now sat center on your island. It wasn’t the prettiest or the most shapely, but you didn’t care. With the icing slightly running down the sides and the half-cut strawberries, it was perfect.

“You made me a cake?”

Nico shuffled bashfully, “Yeah, I tried to, at least. I-I know it’s not the best, but-” You cut him off before he could finish.

“It’s perfect, Neeks.” You looked at him with sparkling eyes, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my birthday girl.”

You turned back to admire the pink cake once more. Nico’s warm body came to lean against your back, his arms wrapping around to cage you in. You watched as his right hand moved to swipe some of the fluffy icing from the side onto his finger.

“Open up, baby.”

You obliged gratefully, taking in his sugar-covered digit. You swirled your tongue to gather as much of the sweetness as possible, sucking lightly.

“Fuck..” Nico’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

You could feel his hardening length pressed snuggly against your cheeks, taking the opportunity to tease him a bit. Jutting your hips backward, Nico groaned at the pressure. He pulled his finger from your mouth, a trail of saliva still attached. His hand moved to grasp onto your heavy breast through the material of your t-shirt.

Nico’s fingers danced across your peaked nipple, before quickly turning your body in place. He swiped another bit of the icing, letting your mouth eagerly accept his offer. His eyes grew with dark lust at the sight. Nico’s cock twitched with desire at the feeling of your tongue.

He removed his finger suddenly, drawing a whine from your lips. However, you were quickly cut off by Nico grabbing your thighs to hoist you onto the countertop. The cool sensation of the marble ignites goosebumps all over your skin. His mouth immediately found your neck, trailing sloppy kisses down the supple skin. His hands toyed with the hem of your t-shirt, before managing to discard it completely.

“Look at these, baby” His eyes were glued to your breasts, “Been thinking about my girls all day. Always sit so pretty for me.”

His fingers were cold as they grazed over your bare nipples. Nico didn’t waste any time as he lowered his mouth to take one into his mouth. You bit your lip to suppress a squeal. His teeth bit the pebbled bud lightly, sending shocks of pleasure to your core. You leaned your head back as a whine echoed into the kitchen.

“Mmm, fuck,” You panted with arousal, “Missed this so much.”

Nico raised a brow, “Yeah?” He mumbled as he took in the other nipple, “Missed me sucking on these gorgeous tits?”

His accent grew thicker as the pure need for you flooded his senses. Your body felt like it was on fire with each lick and suck Nico gave to your swollen breasts. You could have sworn you’d cum from just that alone.

Nico pulled up, his own chest heaving with desire while he ripped off his shirt. As if a lightbulb went off in his mind, his lips grew into a wicked grin. He gripped the backs of your legs, yanking you forward on the counter. You sucked in a breath, undeniably hot and bothered by his manhandling. Nico kept his hand on your leg, while he reached to pull the platter of cake closer to the both of you.

You watched him quizzically as he, once again, dipped his first two fingers into the icing. Nico looked back at you, smirking at your questioning face. He answered with a sly wink, before smearing the icing down the length of your chest and abdomen.

“Nico!” You exclaimed with a laugh, “What the hell?”

“It’s okay, schatzi. I’ll clean you up.” He gave you another smirk, before bending down to trail his tongue along the stripe of frosting. “Always taste so sweet.”

He took his time, making sure not a single bit of the sticky substance was left. The air ran cool against your skin as Nico’s tongue traveled further down your body. You found yourself panting with arousal. He pushed your shoulder slightly as he signaled you to lay back.

You gasped, back arching against the cold countertop. He took the time while you adjusted to the temperature to rub some more icing along the insides of your thighs. Your legs parted subconsciously, letting Nico slot his body in between them.

A whimper escaped into the air as you felt his warm muscle flex against the plush fat of your thigh. He ran his tounge teasingly closer to your throbbing core, but only to trail it back down. Your chest heaved with anticipation, the tension overbearing, and raising a sheen layer of sweat over your skin as he continued his mistrations around where you needed him most.

Determined to have you begging, Nico pulled away completely. Watching your flushed breasts rise and fall at the pace of your rapid breathing. He had to suppress a groan at the sight of your perked nipples still covered in his spit. His eyes met yours as you looked at him desperately.

“Nico,” You whined, “Why’d you stop?”

He smirked at you, “I want you to beg for it, schatzi.”

A fire lit inside of your stomach at the authority in his tone, yet you couldn’t help the bubble of stubbornness that arose with it.

“Why should I?” You inquired, propping yourself up onto your elbows, “I mean, it is my birthday. Don’t I deserve a present?”

Nico almost smiled at your rebuttal, but he also needed to make sure you knew who was in charge. He leaned forward, his rigid abdomen pressing into your soft one. His mouth latched onto your nipples one more, this time sucking harshly.

You cried out through the mixture of pain and pleasure, your slick practically dripping onto the counter by now. Your hands moved to grip his shoulder roughly, your nails leaving angry red marks in response. Nico only pulled away once he heard your needy cries and felt the way your hips bucked up into him.

“Ready to stop being a brat?”

Normally, you’d put up more of a fight, but with Nico’s relentless teasing all day, the thrumming need that pounded through every vein in your body had you complying with his wants.

“Yes,” You breathed, “Please, Neeks.” Your body began to squirm as he dragged his clothed cock along the wetness pooling from your cunt, “Fuck, please do something.”

His head tilted at you, hips still moving torturously slow, “But I am doing something, baby.”

Your head fell haphazardly against the cool marble, an exasperated sigh leaving your throat. It was agonizing what he was doing to you, and he knew it.

All you heard was a low chuckle before you felt Nico’s body lower and the sound of his knees thumping down against the hardwoods. Your eyes fluttered closed as Nico’s lips began to leave light kisses closer and closer to your clit.

Nico’s right arm moved across your leg to gather some more icing before prodding at your closed mouth. Right as you opened to accept his fingers, Nico plunged his tongue deep into your soaked hole.

Your body convulsed at the sensory overload. You felt your eyes roll back as the sweet strawberry cascaded over your taste buds and the surging pleasure Nico provided pulsed through your core. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, determined not to leave a single bit of the treat left.

Nico’s fingers fell from your mouth as you moaned almost pornographically at the intense sensation of him lapping at your velvet walls. His nose nudged against your clit with every pass he made, causing the onset of your orgasm to show its head. Your hands tangled themselves into his thick hair, tugging in an attempt to ground yourself further onto his face.

Nico moaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves up every limb. Your body felt as if it was floating, tingling with the utmost euphoric sensations. That familiar burning only increased as Nico replaced his tongue with two fingers. He plunged them brutally, not bothering to start slow.

“Fuck!” You cried as your back arched off the counter.

Nico’s mouth sucked skillfully on your clit, drawing fast circles. You could feel your climax approaching impossibly fast, your cunt beginning to spasm around your boyfriend’s fingers.

“Close already, schatzi?” He mumbled against you.

You nodded helplessly, overwhelmed by the searing pleasure in your lower stomach. You could feel the blood pounding in your ears as you were hit with one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had. Your hips bucked against Nico as he continued his abuse through the duration of your high.

Your mind felt like it was spinning, the weight of your climax taking the breath from your lungs. Your vision went white as your eyes clenched shut. Nico’s finger slowed to a stop, his mouth now leaving gentle kisses to the side of your knee where he rested his head. Your jaw fell slightly, lungs burning from the lack of air.

All you could feel was Nico carefully removing his fingers, and the weight of his body moving to now stand. His warm hands caressed your hips soothingly, coaxing you back to reality.

“Come back to me, pretty girl.”

You eventually managed to peel open your lids, eyes clouded with dreariness.

“There’s those pretty eyes,” Nico smiled lovingly at your fucked out state, “Let’s go take a quick shower. You’re all sticky from the icing.”

A laugh bubbled up, “Yeah?” You started at him accusingly, “And whose fault is that?”

Nico just rolled his eyes at your attitude, helping you off the counter and into the bathroom.

Once you were situated under the scolding water, Nico slid in behind you, arms wrapping around to pull you into his front.

“Today is my favorite day of the year,” Nico stated.

You lifted your head from his chest, looking at him questioningly, “Why?”

“Because it’s the day you were born.”

You felt your cheeks go red, a bashful smile turning up on your lips. You shoved your face back into his toned chest, hiding away from his gaze.

“Neeks,” You whined with embarrassment.

Nico just laughed, placing a kiss on the top of your head, “Happy birthday, schatzi.”

#nico hischier #the captain’s girl au!#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier smut #nh13 #new jersey devils #njd #lea writes stuff ♡

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mimixmunson · 2 days

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I don't want to bother you, but can you please do one for Eddie where reader is really clumsy? Like, she trips on her on foot, loses balance and falls even when just standing still, always has bruises all over her body because she is simply an air-head and ends up hitting her face on a closed door, her knee on the corner of the table and falling in all the stupidest ways possible.

Bambi. Clumsy!Reader x Eddie Munson. Fluff. Blurb.

(You’re never bothering me. I love writing your requests! I hope this is okay!<3)

“You okay there Bambi? You’re walking like you’re on wheels, need a hand?” Eddie teases, chuckling as you clasp your arm around his. He’s not the strongest of guys but his arm does offer you support. You’re clumsy, always have been. Your dad used to say you ran before you learnt how to walk, that you’d never really been able to stand upright on your own two feet without wobbling. He wasn’t wrong. Your parents had gotten you tested for dyspraxia, but the test results came back negative. Put simply, you were just a klutz, in medical terms? You’re just a little unbalanced.

“I know, I know.” You sigh, lifting your pants up to your thighs, letting the air brush against your shins. “Look at my legs Teddy, three new ones and a grazed knee” Muttering the last of your words under your breath, ‘three new ones’ refers to the three bruises scattered across your right shin. Eddie has a tendency to draw lines around your bruised skin and make the blue-yellowish stains look like Saturn, sometimes drawing smiley faces of the Nirvana logo.

He peered down, analysing the new shiners. “Seriously, you gotta be more careful. We’ve spoken about this before, eyes where you’re going, not where you were.” He exaggerated, speaking in a sing-song tone as he chuckles again. “Remember that time you ran face first into the glass door when we were kids? You split your lip and I cried because you were bleeding. Wayne had to deal with you bleeding on carpet and I was in hysterics because I was so sure you were gonna die. From a split lip no less.” Eddie’s mouth twitches up into a smirk as he begins to let out a full belly laugh. He screws his face up, as bubbly giggles escape him lips from reminiscing, “yeah, Wayne said you felt the pain for me cus I didn’t shed a single tear.” You confessed, joining Eddie in the melody of laughter.

“What can I say? I’m weak for a damsel in distress.” Eddie tilts his head and bows theatrically, standing up and opening the top cupboard. He places his box full of first aid supplies from the medicine cupboard onto the floor, opening up the first aid kit. “Let’s get this graze cleaned up shall we? Can’t leave it, will get infected and puss will spurt out. Will be so gross.” He speaks, pouring antiseptic liquid onto a clean rag. “Okay! Okay, I know.” You chime in, clearly disturbed by the imagery. “Just be gentle Eds, please.” You pout a little, hiding behind your hands.

“You know me Bambi, I have magic hands. I’m practically your personal nurse.” Eddie joked, gently patting the rag over your grazed skin being sure to wipe out any dirt and debris. “Hands of an old woman more like.” You tease, stifling your giggles from behind your hands, not wanting to see your wound.

“If you say so, but so you know. I’ll always be here to patch you up. Our little klutz.” He smiles, beaming from ear to ear. Choosing to ignore your cheeky comment, because “you’ve been in the wars.” He gently slaps a band aid over your kneecap and rubs his palm over it to make sure it sticks to you properly. Eddie leans over and pries your hands apart so he can see your face properly. “All done. You’re all fixed up.” He sighs, rubbing his hand over your cheek.

“Thanks Eds, good time to mention I’ve decided to take up ice skating?” You giggle, watching his face drop into the most shocked expression you’ve ever seen. “Kidding!” You tease, throwing yourself at his chest and starting to wrestle each other on Wayne’s living room floor. You are always gonna be looked after by Eddie, your chosen big brother.

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scoonsalicious · 3 hours

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Unsatisfied, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: Following the epilogue to Unwanted, you and Bucky finally have your first night together in your new apartment. You haven't had sex with him in an entire year. You are feeling... unsatisfied.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, mentions of past trauma, Pocket has a panic attack, she is not as okay as I thought, Cards Against Humanity, Bucky making dirty promises I fully intend for him to keep.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: My goal tonight was to work on WFLT. I had good intentions, I swear. But, I can't get Bucky and Pocket out of my mind. THEN, this was supposed to be smut. Pure, filthy smut. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!

You loved your found family, you really did. Or, at least that’s what you kept reminding yourself as you actively tried to convince yourself not to kill them right this second.

You made eye contact with Bucky from where he sat on the loveseat across the living room from you, looking about as sexually frustrated as you felt. You ran a finger delicately along your collarbone as you watched him adjust himself in his seat, and as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, you–

“Hey, Kiddo,” Tony Stark called your attention to where he sat to the left of you. “Pick a Black Card. It’s your turn.”

Reluctantly, you drew your eyes away from your ridiculously attractive boyfriend and up to your psuedo-brother, former boss, who thought it had been a fantastic idea to have your entire team show up with pizzas to your brand new apartment, on your very first night there with Bucky, in order to play fucking Cards Against Humanity as a “morale-boosting exercise.”

Cock-blocking exercise was more like it.

You shot Tony a glare and reached across the coffee table to draw a card. Looking at it, you rolled your eyes in frustration before placing it face-up in front of you. “What gets me wet?” you read aloud from the card.

You were met with a room full of snickering as your teammates thumbed through their hands, searching for the best card to give to you. Bucky threw down a card almost immediately, catching your eye as he did so and winking at you. God, you needed everyone to leave so you could climb that man like a tree.

One by one, your team deposited their White Cards into a pile in front of you, and once everyone had played their hand, you picked them up, shuffling them around so you wouldn’t know who had put down what card.

You turned each over and read it aloud, asking each time: “What gets me wet?”

“Being a mother fucking sorcerer; Vehicular manslaughter; German Dungeon Porn; My fuckslave, Regianald; Auschwitz– ew; come on guys, really?-- My vagina– okay, actually factual– Dick Fingers; A juicy little booty that goes poot poot pooty; The Biggest, Blackest Dick– hilarious, Sam…”

“What?! You can’t know that’s mine, Baby Girl!” You shot Sam a knowing look. “Yeah, okay, it’s mine, but come on– it’s a good one!” he said with a laugh.

And then, there it was, the winner. You looked up and locked eyes with Bucky, who was smirking back at you with a wicked glint in his eye, and you knew instantly it was his card you were holding in your hand.

Flipping the card over, you read out loud with a giant smile on your face: “What gets me wet? Genetically engineered super soldiers.” Everyone around the coffee table groaned, knowing that there was no way any of their cards would have topped that. Not for you, anyway.

With a grin, Bucky reached over and took the Black Card, adding it to the pile of his wins in front of him.

“Ugh, no fair!” Nat pouted, gently tossing her hand of cards on the top of the coffee table.

“You gotta play to your audience, Nat,” Bucky said, spreading his legs as he leaned back on the love seat. “Can’t help it if I know what my girl likes.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’re cheating,” Sam said. His words were meant to be playful, a sore-loser’s teasing lament, but you couldn’t help the rush of heartache those little syllables sent through your system, and your body froze.

It had been almost a year, you thought to yourself as you tried to breathe through your increasing anxiety without attracting unnecessary attention. A year of therapy and rebuilding trust. You were meant to be over this.

But clearly you weren’t.

“Excuse me,” you blurted out as you stood up, not bothering to offer an excuse for your rudeness or sudden departure. Trying to keep your breathing steady, you nearly sprinted out of the room and up the stairs until you were shutting the door of the ensuite bath in yours and Bucky’s master bedroom. The room you hadn’t even shared together yet, and now, on your first night in your new home, when you should be celebrating, becoming reacquainted with one another’s bodies, it would be permeated with thoughts of her.

You slid down the door to the cold tile floor, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to shake the memories from your mind’s eye. But they, and your tears, began to fall in earnest. Despite what you knew to be true– that Bucky loved you, had only ever loved you, your mind kept bringing you back to the events of last year– of all the times he abandoned you for her, left you alone when she needed him. The things he had said to you while he was inside of you because she had told him she liked it. The sight of her riding his dick in a derelict safehouse in Russia. Your bones snapping and a bullet ripping through your flesh.

You couldn’t breathe. God, why couldn’t you breathe?

You shoved your fist into your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. You were supposed to be over this, you kept reminding yourself. You were supposed to have forgiven him. But the memories brought about a visceral reaction you hadn’t experienced in months. Today had been meant to be a new beginning for the both of you, a fresh start. Something better, you had promised each other.

Why did it still hurt so much?

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You could have been hyperventilating on the bathroom floor for minutes or hours; you couldn’t tell, when a soft knock reverberated through the surface of the door.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice was muffled through the wood. “Doll, I can hear you crying. Let me in.” His words were soft, understanding, sorrowful. He knew.

You couldn’t move. You wanted to open the door, to lose yourself in his embrace so badly, but you couldn’t control your body enough to coordinate movement. All you could do was hug yourself as you sobbed.

“Pocket,” you heard Bucky murmur through the door. “Baby, I need you to breathe for me, ok? Your gonna make yourself pass out. Just… just unlock the door, alright? That’s all you have to do for me, sweets. Just unlock the door.”

Unlock the door. You could do that. One, simple motion. You slowly lifted a trembling hand above your head, connecting with the doorknob by sense of touch, alone. With shaking fingers, you managed to disengage the lock.

At the sound of the click, you heard Bucky exhale in relief. “Okay. Good girl. I’m gonna come in now, okay, sweets?” You knew you should move– you were still curled up in front of the door, but you couldn’t get your body to cooperate. You tried to speak, but the only sound that came from your throat was another agonizing sob.

You heard the knob turn and the door begin to press against you. With gentle but steady pressure, Bucky opened the door, sliding your body across the bathroom tile in the process, but you barely noticed. He would always be a force that had the ability to move you at his will.

When there was enough space for him to fit his body through the door frame, Bucky squeezed himself in and turned to look behind the door, searching for you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, dropping down to his knees to join you on the tile. In an instant, he had you in his arms, picking you up and cradling you to his chest.

“I-I-I’m…” you stuttered, trying to form words through your sobs, “s–s–so s-s-sorry.”

Bucky tutted as he stroked your hair. “No, sweets, no. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He kissed the top of your head, and you found that your breathing began to steady in his presence. “My actions keep causing you pain.”

You shook your head vehemently, clutching to the fabric of his shirt as if your very life depended on it. “No,” you whispered. “It’s not… It’s not you.” You closed your eyes, trying to mold your jumbled emotions into a cohesive thought. “This place is supposed to be safe,” you told him, hoping he would follow what you were trying to say. “Ours. And then… when Sam said… that… it was… it was like her ghost walked right in the door. She’s still haunting me, Buck.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. “Sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair, “what do you need? What can I do?”

You wiped at your eyes and looked up at him with a tear-streaked face. “Tell me you love me, Bucky.”

His piercing blue gaze was honest and sincere as he looked down at you. “I love you, Pocket. I have only, ever, loved you.” No questions, no ridiculing your request for reassurance– just pure understanding that this was what you needed from him

You felt yourself exhale, the tension that had been wracking through you ebbing away as you looked into his eyes. “I love you, Buck,” you whispered back. “I’m sorry– I thought… I thought I was better.”

His face was soft as he looked at you. “Doll, you are getting better. It’s a process. We’re a process. And we work on us, together.”

You snorted in spite of yourself as you wiped your nose. “How the fuck did you get so goddamn wise?” you asked him. “It’s mildly annoying.”

“Ah, there’s that dirty mouth I love so much,” he smirked at you. “Come on.” With a gracefulness that belied his massive size, he lifted you up and carried you back into the bedroom, gently placing you on your new bed.

“Oh, shit!” you said, trying to stand up. “Everyone’s still downstairs–”

“I kicked them out as soon as you left the living room,” he told you, coming to kneel before you as he pulled you back down. “Serves them right for interrupting our first night living together when we haven’t touched each other in eight thousand, seven hundred and forty three hours.”

You widened your eyes. “Not that your counting, or anything,” you said with a giggle, and were rewarded when Bucky smirked up at you.

“There’s my girl,” he said, stroking your cheek. “I know we had big plans for tonight,” he said as he rested his vibranium hand on your knee. “And trust me when I tell you, there is nothing I want more than to strip you naked and take you apart on every single surface of this apartment until you can’t remember your own name.” You gulped at that. “But,” he continued, “all that can wait. Tonight, I’m gonna go back into that bathroom, light some candles, and run us a bubble bath. Then, you and I are going to get in that tub and I’m just gonna hold you, okay?” You found yourself nodding dumbly at the sensual promise.

Bucky leaned in close to you, tucking a strand of hair away from your face and behind your ear. “Tonight,” he reiterated, “I just want us to be close. And then tomorrow?” He leaned in to whisper seductively into your ear. “First thing tomorrow, I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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straycalamities · 3 days

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so for some Reasons, the same reasons zombinoslayer is on indefinite hiatus, i have a question on like. Say there is a Truffula Flu-oriented plot, story. Y'know a narrative. Coming up, but the way it's being made is basically prose-based, how would you prefer to see that formatted onto a tumblr askblog/archive thing?

it does deal with two characters and two characters only (so far?)

rp-style is out of the question because of editing reblogs being killed

but...i have a few thoughts, but i'm not sure which one people would like to read and digest the most

for more clarity on what i mean with terms/styles: click under the readmore

when i say "prose-style" i mean it's written like a novel. it's 3rd-person limited and past tense.

The sun was baring down hard on Mikey's back as he trudged down the sidewalk. He drug his feet, pose hunched. Why did he have to run out of eggs on the hottest day of the year?

when i say "script-style" i mean that it's written how you would read the script for a show or a play. this is how i treated zombinoslayer's big scenes. it'd have progressive images for each action/dialogue, wherever i deemed an image needed/important

Mikey: [The sun is bright and harsh. He is walking down the sidewalk. He looks exhausted.] Why did I have to run out of eggs on the hottest day of the year?!

and when i say comic, well, that's obvious. i'd do my best to translate everything as well as i can into something that is heavily image and dialogue based that has comic frames and such.

pros and cons of all these being:

prose pros (lol): it keeps all of the character's inner feelings, struggles, and thoughts and even some motives out and easier to see, which with these scenes and with how these characters are, might be important or even very enlightening for people i also don't have to draw as much because i would only be illustrating significant parts and to make the posts look more appealing/interesting. thus updates would happen more frequently. easier to plug into a translator if english isn't your first language the images would be illustrations i'd actually put effort into since there would be so few of them

prose cons: it'll be a lot more reading overall less left to interpretation, i guess? less pretty pictures? it takes a lot more cerebral energy in some cases to take in prose and turn it around in your mind i just get that for some people, they don't like walls of text. like i, for one, have gotten very bad at reading so i get it

script pros: more pictures to look at then prose-style scenes move by more quickly and smoothly, everything focuses more on actions and interactions so maybe things are easier to digest than prose-style still translator-friendly updates still more frequent than comic-style, but less frequent than prose-style most likely full-color images. may or may not have a bg in every image (just think zombino-slayer style? but i might not render every time either like i did there because that was..phew..that took a lot out of me)

script cons: more images to draw for me the format might be wonky to some none of those inner thoughts/monologues, a lot of depth and inner feelings/struggles/references made in the characters heads are left out. it all focuses on the external with hints to the internal left to expression, body language, and dialogue and the reader's own bias/experience

comic pros: ALL THE PICTURES YOU COULD WANT! everything's images! if you're most comfy with reading comics or manga already, you'd dig this (obviously) the least reading and it's all together in one image (well multiple) very easy to soar through and take everything in since the focus is on images and dialogue Only (maybe narrative notes or thought boxes when really important) easiest to share i'd think? and easiest to get a feel for what's going on in a scene without having to study and/or think too hard about it

comic cons: oh my god all that drawing...updates would be slow as molasses tbqh.. unless i decided to do manga-style aka B&W or limited grayscale/monochrome. even then though again, everything internal would be left to the hints you'd get from the external i could give with imagery, panel-shape, dialogue, and such not translator-friendly (i know there's the google image translator, but i'd be handwriting the text (i just like how it looks best) and it's not always friendly to handwriting)

as far as specifics for each style, we'd work that out once one is picked

other notes: i do think i'm a pretty strong prose-writer, but i also think i'm a pretty strong comicsmith. so i don't think it's really up to what i'd, personally, be able to pull off best with the skills i own :3 (and i mean script-style is the most simple of the three. and i've already done it. it'd be almost identical to zombinoslayer. and it'd be most similar to Camp Entre's rp-style i think? even though Camp Entre was much more dialogue-based than anything else

i know i haven't uploaded too much of either, especially my writing, but trust...i'm pretty good at it. at least that's what people tell me.

#truffula flu #yeah ill tag it #polls #share this around if you want #i want a wide opinion

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akaibaras-yearning · 2 days

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Chapter I: Whispers of Blue

Everything is blue His pills, his hands, his genes And now I'm covered in the colors Pulled apart at the seams And it's blue And it's blue

~Halsey: Colors

Warnings: feelings.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･･:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ.･*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･･*:.｡. .｡ .:*･゜ﾟ･*

She collapsed onto the unforgiving ground, the echoes of her labored breaths mixing with the collective exhaustion of her classmates. Every inch of her body seemed to protest aching in places she didn’t even know could ache, the sweat clinging uncomfortably to her skin, marking the effort she had exerted. Yaga-sensei made sure that they knew that he would, in fact, not be holding back on their physical training.

At least it was their last class of the day. With eyes closed, she allowed herself to indulge in the anticipation of a really, really, really good scrubbing in the shower, she might even have enough energy left to lose herself in a trashy romance book before she passes out on her bed.

As she summoned the courage to lift her heavy eyelids, she was met not by the comforting embrace of twilight or the soothing warmth of a setting sun. Instead, her gaze collided with an overpowering shade of blue that seemed to engulf her in its depths. It was a soul-crushing hue, one that left her feeling adrift in an ocean of emotions she struggled to comprehend.

She felt like she was drowning.. She didn’t even get to process what exactly she was looking at. The sky? No. For a moment, she felt as though she was drowning in that azure abyss, lost in a sea of emotions she couldn't quite comprehend. The sky seemed insignificant compared to the presence that loomed over her.

Her eyes traced the contours of circular, pitch-black glasses, and in that instant, a name echoed in her mind like a forbidden word,

“Gojo-senpai.”

Her upperclassman smirked, drawing back from invading her personal space, leaning back to his full height, “Alright, stand down Shoko. She’s still alive!”

How long did she analyze his face exactly? In that fleeting second, it was like she stood at the edge of a cosmic pause button, where time took a breather and everything faded except for the captivating depth of those eyes. Heat began to creep up her neck as she accepted the hand offered to her by Haibara. Geto-senpai gave them an apologetic and reassuring smile, a hand comfortably resting inside his pocket and the other offering the girl a bottle of water which she took gratefully, muttering a polite “thanks”.

“That Yaga is really good at breaking the freshman’s spirits.”

The white-haired teen snickered, “You all did better than Utahime, though. I heard she actually cried during her first physical training.”

“It’s Utahime-senpai to you!” The miko-wearing woman quickly retaliated, fists bunched on her sides. “And big talk coming from the cocky bastard who got one-upped by a stuffed bear!”

“That was a one-time thing!”

(Y/n) can’t help but quietly laugh at their banter, her gaze turning curious at her senpai’s words which Shoko seemed to observe, explaining further.

“The idiot was so cocky that he actually dropped his Infinity for a moment, and the Cursed toy wasted no time giving him a much-earned uppercut.”

Geto laughed heartily, as if reliving the memory in his head, much to Gojo’s dismay, “And ever since then, Satoru always has his Infinity up. What a pushover.”

“I’m cautious, there’s a difference!” Gojo tried to explain, however it all fell into deaf ears as the giggles spread among the small group.

Their whining senpai sighed in resignation, pushing up his chest even though his pale cheeks were dusted in pink, “I was gonna be a good senpai and all ya’ know, I was gonna treat my adorable kouhais with some tasty ice pops, but..” He clicked his tongue.

Haibara was quick to act on his feet, singing praises as he began to massage the taller man’s shoulders, “The great Gojo Satoru! How generous, how powerful, how handsome!”

Just like that, his air of confidence was restored, hands on his hips and nose in the air, “Ah, I see you recognize true value. This is why you’re my favorite kouhai, Haibara!”

His statement was punctuated with haughty laughs, basking in Haibara’s praises.

“What a pathetic man, honestly.” Utahime deadpanned before she ushered the other students to exit the training grounds. “Let’s go.. before we get infected. Idiocy is contagious after all.” A collective laugh echoed again amidst the group of sorcerers, their miko-wearing senpai ushering them to the nearest convenience store. And even with his proclamation earlier, Gojo still ended up paying for the whole lot, Shoko and Geto wouldn't have let him do otherwise anyways.

The girl lagged behind once the group began to distribute the cold treats, seemingly satisfied with watching the dynamic between her schoolmates. Looking at the blue raspberry popsicle in her hand, she wondered why every shade of blue that isn’t his eyes feels so wrong now. Like every other shade is just a poor imitation. And the blue that’s so selfishly always encased behind pitch-black glasses is the only shade of that color worth seeing.

She then felt silly and apologized to the popsicle for demeaning it in her head. And then thanking it for the cold satisfaction that’d spread within her once she tasted it.

“Good, huh?” Haibara chuckled, purposely lagging behind and falling into step with her.

“All things taste better when it’s free.” She was quick to retort, enjoying the sweetness of the popsicle.

Her classmate’s eyes seemed to smile in tandem with his lips as an easy laugh fell from them, “Man, how crazy is it to be friends with the strongest sorcerer in this generation? Feels like a fever dream.”

She meets his gaze with a faint smile, her reserve momentarily melting away under the warmth of his laughter, “It’s.. definitely interesting. Seems like something we’re not allowed to do, for me.”

The blonde in front of them let out a soft disgruntled groan, “I’m disappointed. I thought that person would at least have some decorum. But this..” Nanami’s sentence trailed off just for them to hear their senpai’s,

“Oh yeah? You don’t think I can’t finish two popsicles in one go? Do you know who you’re talkin’ too?”

Said senpai then proceeded to engulf two popsicles in his mouth, scuffing the treats down while sporting an absurdly exaggerated expression of determination, as if he were conquering the greatest challenge of his life.

The freshmen’s smiles fell flat, well at least (Y/n) and Haibara’s did. Nanami’s already displeased face just deepened with a twitch of his eye. “The whole of the Jujutsu World rests on his shoulders? I think the Gods have abandoned us.”

They silently watched the Satoru Gojo scarf down the frozen treats. Rose’s own popsicle nearly consumed, she propped the remaining chunk of it in her mouth, a boisterous laugh echoing in front of them as their pearly-haired senpai pointed condescendingly at his friends.

“I proved your asses wrong and won more treats. I just can’t stop winning, honestly.”

He spoke as though he bore the weight of his own greatness, flashing the two finished popsicle sticks that were both faintly engraved with the word ‘winner’.

At the same time, while their other senpais threw their protests, she had finished her own treat, pulling it out of her mouth, Haibara was already broadcasting it before she was even finished with reading the engraving. “Oh! (Y/n)’s a winner, too!” Their Geto-senpai snickered, “Would you look at that? Looks like you ain’t anything special anymore, Satoru.”

Unperturbed, even with his sunglasses, everyone saw him rolling his eyes, “Hah? That is just factually incorrect. And I won two. I don’t wanna hear anymore from you losers.”

He then made a particularly derisive face holding an ‘L’ sign on his forehead. The rest just watched in amusement as they could practically see the tick on the Curse Manipulator’s forehead. But even before Geto could retort,

The girl blinked as she was quite literally swept away with a heavy arm on her shoulders, expensive perfume, with primary notes of pine and mint, assaulting her nostrils.

“Sorry, I can’t hear ya. The winners are gon’get their rewards. You losers just stay put, now.”

She was sure she heard multiple popsicle sticks zoom their way, she craned her neck over his arm to look behind, seeing the wooden sticks stopping mid-air from hitting him and then falling listlessly on the pavement. The girl didn’t say anything but her senpai replied anyway,

“Neat party trick, right?” Frustration filled her as she once again felt that strange sensation of being tongue-tied as she tried to answer, her eyes tracing that dimpled smirk over and over. Her inadequacy didn’t seem to faze the man beside her as he let his arm fall away from her shoulder. Only then did she feel her face cool down. Meaning.. it was hot before? Her body is very confusing today.

Oblivious to the girl’s inner musings, the taller man began to talk as they made their way back to the konbini, popsicle sticks in hand. It amazed her just how good he was with making one-sided conversations, his questions were mostly rhetorical, answering them himself before she could even open her mouth.

So she simply nodded her head along, opting to observe the literally suffocating presence beside her. Men and women, people in between, of all ages stared as they walked by. Of course, they were staring at him. Besides his obvious deviation from the common local features, the way he walked just screamed: dominance. Each step was a declaration, a proclamation of his superiority, and the world seemed to bend to accommodate his presence.

Even with her own knowledge of who this man is, even if they were walking together, she felt the disparity between them. Her silent observer's role felt like a mere spectator in the grand performance of his life. Try as she might, she couldn’t understand how he was able to walk with that much of an ease when certain responsibilities fell on his shoulders just because he was born.

Her train of thought came to an abrupt stop when he looked at her as if he was expecting something. Those devastating eyes of his prickling her skin as his shades slip down slightly from his nose.

Shit. Did he ask something? Was she just stupidly looking at his face while she was lost in her own thoughts? Her brain racked itself inside and out but her senpai saved her from making an even bigger fool out of herself by repeating without her needing to ask,

“You a Clan baby?”

She blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m a Clan baby, too.” His shoulders shook from his own joke. A slight pout formed on his lips as he scanned her deadpan expression, “It’s just, I think I saw you in one of those, very much uninspiring, Clan meetings my parents forced me to attend.” The girl’s eyes furrowed, he came to those? When? Surely she wouldn’t have missed this much presence, much less forget it.

As if he read her thoughts, which the girl would be grateful if he stopped doing, he answered,

“It’s wayyyy back, though. When I could still be bribed with sweets.”

“Oh. But uh,” She cringed at her own voice, clearing her throat to dispel the unnecessary ball of nerves in her windpipe. Why is she so nervous? “Yeah, I’m one.. I think.”

A singular ivory eyebrow raised at her statement, “I wasn’t aware that my question was something to be given with an ‘I-think’ answer.” This time she did feel her cheeks burn. Before an apology could spill from her lips, a bell chimed. Her senpai was already busting the door of the konbini open as if he owned the place. Her shoulders relaxed, grateful that his attention was diverted to something else.

That something, rather a someone, was the cashier of the konbini. A portly man holding his ground against the strongest sorcerer of this era.

“Get lost kid! There’s no way you won two times! You’re a cheat!”

“Yes, of course, I enjoy my free time by engraving sticks to fraud a hundred-yen popsicle.”

A poorly stifled chuckle brought the two men’s attention to her. The cashier eyed her uniform,

“You with this menace, little miss?” The taller teen cackled, extending a hand toward her without looking away from the man behind the counter. Without missing a beat, she got what he’s asking for and handed him her own stick. With a lofty smirk, Gojo extended his hand to the baffled cashier, spreading the sticks like a deck of cards, flashing the ‘winner’ engraved part directly.

“Pay up, old man.” His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as Abe-san, the cashier, guffawed in disbelief. His steps begrudgingly slow, they didn’t know if it was on purpose or he sincerely couldn’t carry his own weight, he opened the freezer, dropping three blue raspberry-flavored treats on the counter.

“I oughta’ ban you here, kid. You always do this.”

Opening his new treats in vigor, one hand extending the girl’s reward to her, he just scoffed, “That’s stupid. I keep this place alive.”

With nothing but a grin sent to Abe-san’s way, her senpai already began strutting to exit, leaving her to bow in apology to which the older man waved away,

“You’re good, little miss. This ain’t his first, most certainly will not be the last.”

She opened her own popsicle, exiting the konbini to see shaded eyes peering at her, treat in mouth as he motioned her back to where their friends were (hopefully) waiting.

This time, silence occupied their small walk back, both student focused on the cold, sugary confections in hand.

Now, though, as she finished hers, she turned her stick over.. and a second time more. But the stick was disappointingly un-engraved. A chortle sounded from beside her. Gojo leaning down to assess her predicament. An air of contentment surrounded him as he stood back, which should have irked her, if not for when he handed her his also finished stick.

It was her turn to quirk an eyebrow, Is he giving me his trash, now?

And much like the first few times, he’d responded before she could even express her discontentment,

“Looks like the first one was a coincidence, little miss.”

The blue-eyed teen now running the few short distance to their other schoolmates, she was about to throw the sticks to the nearest bin, if not for the unmistakable etching on one of it.

‘Winner’.

Looking back, she’s sure that the other frozen treat he’s shoving in his mouth held the same marking, too.

#gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk geto #shoko ieiri #jjk utahime #slow burn #imma cry #i hope i did this right #I hope I finish this

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