attaching something to an email is so scary. what if i accidentally put hard-core porn in there. i don't think i have any downloaded but what if i do and i attached it to the email. what then.
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I may be a frequent bucky customer..but i was thinking of another awkward bucky fic, preferably male reader, where his relationship with reader is kinda new and he’s struggling to bring up the topic of sex. INEEDAWKWARDBUCKYICRAVEHIM
Lost in Translation
$ log - armed with terrible advice from his friends, bucky barnes tries to talk about sex, only to sound like a man reading you a breakup verdict. once the panic clears, your deadpan decision to put it on the schedule leaves him completely outmanoeuvred.
$ warn --sfw --fluff --amab!reader --awkward!bucky --soft!bucky --miscomm(heavy)
$ wc -w 2.7k
$ cd masterlist / bucky-barnes
# note = steve and sam are shit wingmen again, except they’re giving horrible advice.
Sam placed both hands flat on the table like he was about to deliver a TED Talk.
"Intimacy," he said, with the gravity of a man who had read exactly one book on mindfulness and let it rewire his entire personality, "is about presence. It’s about being here, fully, with another person."
Bucky stared at him.
"Breath to breath." Sam wasn't finished, of course he wasn't. "Soul to soul. You gotta quiet yourself first, Bucky. Settle the noise. Find the stillness inside the storm." He touched his own chest. "It's in here. It's always been in here."
"My brain is a whirlwind every single hour," Bucky said. "I don't have stillness, Sam. I have rotations."
Sam nodded slowly, deeply, like that was exactly the kind of spiritual obstacle he'd anticipated — was, frankly, honoured to shepherd Bucky through. "Then you gotta slow the rotation, man. Let the body lead. Not the mind, not the history, not the what-ifs. You just —"
His eyes fell shut. One long inhale through the nose, one deliberate exhale through the mouth, the whole performance so measured it could have been choreographed.
When his eyes opened again, he looked like a man who'd just returned from somewhere profound. "You arrive."
"Arrive," Bucky repeated.
"At the moment."
"I need to arrive at the moment."
"With your whole self."
Bucky looked at him for a long time. Sam looked back with the serene conviction of a man who had solved something.
"Sam, I'm asking you how to tell my boyfriend I want to have sex with him."
"And I'm telling you." Sam leaned forward. "Vulnerability is the doorway. Walk through it naked — not literally. Emotionally, metaphorically." A beat. "Unless it literally works for the situation, in which case, also yes."
That was the full scope of Sam's contribution: vulnerability and breath. Arriving at the moment with his whole self — which was, as a set of instructions, the equivalent of handing a man a compass and telling him to find east by feeling it.
Steve, when consulted separately (because Bucky was nothing if not thorough, because he believed in second opinions even when the first opinion had been essentially useless), took a different approach entirely.
He leaned back in his chair. His gaze drifted past Bucky's left shoulder as though he'd found a frequency only golden retrievers and supersoldiers from 1918 could hear.
"When you find the right person," he said, "it's like the heavens open up."
Bucky blinked.
"Everything aligns." Steve was warming to his theme now, his voice taking on that particular swell it got before he said something that belonged on a monument. "The physical, the emotional, the spiritual. You stop being two separate people. You become—" The word took a second to surface, but when it did, he held it up like something precious. "A union."
"A union," Bucky said.
"A sacred union."
"Steve."
"The body is the vessel, Buck, but the connection is the current." Steve's eyes were glistening now — not with tears, just with that particular luminosity of a man who felt things at an architectural scale. He looked like he was about to grab Bucky by the shoulders. "When you give yourself to someone — truly, wholly — the heavens open up. Everything you've carried, all of it, gets lighter. Because you're not carrying it alone anymore."
It was, objectively, a beautiful sentiment. The kind of thing you'd cross-stitch on a pillow or hear narrated over a montage of two people sprinting through a field at golden hour.
It was also completely, devastatingly unhelpful.
"I don't think I'm invited to heaven, Steve."
Steve frowned. "Of course you —"
"I'm being serious. I've done things that would get me turned away at the door. I think the heavens are opening for other people."
"That's not what I —"
"You said sacred union, Steve. I'm asking how to bring up sex without making it weird."
Steve blinked, before recalibrating. His hand landed on Bucky's shoulder with the tenderness of a man awarding a Purple Heart.
"Just speak from the heart, Buck."
Bucky stared at him. The hand stayed. Steve's eyes were so sincere they could have powered a small city.
He left with both their voices rattling around his skull, no practical information to show for any of it. One question. That's what he'd walked in with. One question — he'd walked out carrying two incompatible philosophies, one man telling him to breathe his way into the moment, the other telling him the sky would crack open when he got there, while the original problem sat exactly where he'd left it.
Word for word. Syllable for syllable. Completely unresolved.
Your apartment ran warm.
You couldn't tell; it was just your apartment, the thermostat set to whatever number you'd chosen in October and never touched again.
But Bucky could tell.
His body calibrated temperature at a frequency that had nothing to do with comfort, everything to do with survival, so your living room registered against his skin the second he stepped inside. Every time. The residual humidity from the kettle you'd boiled twenty minutes ago. The particular dry heat of your old radiator fighting a losing battle with the window drafts. All of it settled over him like a hand on his back.
He liked it here.
You were on the couch with a book propped against your knee, a coffee cup balanced on the armrest in a way that would've given anyone with a cleaning compulsion a heart attack. You didn't look up when he came in.
You didn't need to. You'd long since acclimated to the particular rhythm of Bucky in your space — the near-silent footfalls, the way he drifted from room to room like he was mapping exits.
Except the exits were just your hallway, your bathroom, the kitchen where he sometimes stood in front of the open fridge for two full minutes without taking anything out.
Your boyfriend haunted your one-bedroom like it was a Victorian manor. you'd made peace with it.
Tonight, though, he didn't drift, he came in. His jacket went on the back of the chair — not thrown; placed, which was the first red flag — before he walked to the couch. Not to sit, no, he stopped beside you, close enough that you had to tilt your chin to see his face.
He was looking down at you with that expression. The one you still hadn't cracked. Too steady to be casual, too soft to be anything tactical. Just fixed on you, like you were a sentence he kept rereading.
"We need to talk."
Your eyes left the page.
That wasn't his vocabulary. Bucky didn't announce conversations. He started them mid-thought, three sentences deep, as though you'd been listening the whole time. Bucky said things like "so the problem with the faucet is" without preamble, "I had a theory about your neighbor" without warning.
"We need to talk" was a press conference. "We need to talk" was structural.
You set the book down.
"I've been thinking," he started and stopped. You watched the machinery of his jaw tighten, release, reset. "About us."
Your coffee was in your hand now. You weren't drinking it anymore, just holding it.
"Not bad things," he said quickly. "Good things. Things that could be — that I want to be —" Another stop, another reset. You could almost see the index cards shuffling behind his eyes, the rehearsed version collapsing in real time. "There's a direction. That I think we should explore together."
"Okay," you said steadily. You gave him nothing to bounce off of, which, in hindsight, might have been worse than interrupting.
"A physical direction."
Your stomach dropped about three inches.
"I've been having these dreams," he continued, because apparently the man had chosen devastation tonight. "About you, about us. They keep — they're not just—" His left hand went to the back of his neck, which meant he'd already lost the ability to track which hand was doing what. "They're frequent. They're... vivid. I wake up, I think about what they mean, and I think they mean something. Because I don't dream about things that don't —"
He was still talking. You'd stopped hearing individual words.
Dreams about you. Vivid, frequent, meaningful dreams about you — dreams that kept him up at night, that he'd thought about long enough to come here, to stand over you with that face, to tell you there was a physical direction he wanted to explore.
This was it.
This was the three-month rule. The exact thing that influencer said in that video you scrolled past three separate times while thinking that's ridiculous, that doesn't apply to real life.
Your partner starts having dreams about you. Not the fun kind, but the processing kind — the subconscious rehearsal where the brain runs simulations of leaving before the body catches up. By the time they sit you down for "the talk," the decision is already made. They've already left in every dream. They're just delivering the paperwork now.
"I think we should address it," Bucky said, somewhere above you. "Before it becomes... bigger than it needs to be."
Before it becomes bigger. Before the breakup becomes bigger. Before the wound gets worse. Jesus Christ, he was being considerate about it. He was standing in your living room at eight o'clock on a Tuesday being gentle about dismantling your entire relationship, so you couldn't even be mad, because that's who he was. Careful, always careful, even when he was leaving.
"So I think," he said — you could hear him summoning every remaining shred of courage he had left — "that we should discuss positions."
You took a very slow sip of your coffee.
"Positions," you repeated.
"Or preferences. Whatever the — whatever the terminology is. I'm not sure if there's a standard..." He faltered. "A framework."
"There's a framework for this?"
"I don't know. I assumed there might be. Everything has a framework now." One hand gestured vaguely at the concept of modernity. "I thought we could talk through the options. Figure out what works for both of us."
Your mental math was running at full capacity. Positions in a breakup context — maybe he meant logistics. Who keeps what? Who stays, who goes? Division of assets, except your shared assets were a drawer he kept a change of clothes in plus a toothbrush he'd brought over in month two that neither of you ever acknowledged.
Oh god. He wanted the toothbrush back.
"I don't know what the key ones are," he continued, apparently committed to this wording now. "I figured you might have more experience with this than I do. Given that I've been —" That same vague gesture, this time aimed at the last eight decades. "Out of circulation."
"Right," you said. Your voice was impressively level for a man whose chest cavity had been hollowed out. "Positions in breakups. I guess — I mean, there's the standard—"
"Breakup?"
The word landed between you like a glass hitting the floor.
Bucky's face did something extraordinary — a complete system shutdown, every microexpression flatlined at once. He looked at you the way a frozen computer screen does: present, powered on, absolutely incapable of processing input.
"Is that not what this is?" Your voice came out smaller than you meant it to. "The dreams, the physical direction, you standing over me like you're about to read a verdict —"
"Why would I be breaking up with you?"
"Because you said 'we need to talk' like a man who rehearsed it in the car, Bucky."
"I did rehearse it in the car. That doesn't mean —"
"The dreams. You said you've been having vivid dreams about me. That's — there was this influencer who said that's exactly what happens before someone leaves. Your partner starts dreaming about you because their subconscious is processing the separation —"
"What influencer? What are you —"
"And you want to discuss positions." You were gaining steam now, the coffee cup trembling slightly in your grip. "Like there are positions in a breakup. Like it's a — a procedure with steps."
"Is it a procedure?" Bucky asked. Entirely sincere. "Is that a key position? Breaking up? Because I'm not familiar with the —"
"What the fuck are you talking about."
It wasn't a question. It was a structural failure — yours, his, the conversation's. Two parallel misunderstandings collapsing into each other like buildings leaning until they met in the middle.
With an absolute-zero, plain face, Bucky looked at you. Every rehearsed speech, every philosophy, every detour he'd taken to avoid this exact syllable — all of it burned away until the word was the only thing left.
It sat on his tongue like something he'd been carrying for weeks.
"Sex."
The apartment held its breath.
"...Oh."
The silence lasted exactly long enough for every single thing he'd said in the last five minutes to reorganise itself in your head. A shuffled deck, finally clicking into order.
Physical direction — not leaving. Wanting.
Vivid dreams — not the processing kind. The other kind, the kind that made a hundred-and-six-year-old man stand in your living room unable to finish a sentence.
Positions — not breakup logistics. Actual, literal positions.
The influencer was wrong. Or at least, not applicable to situations involving supersoldiers with a compromised ability to say the word sex without looking like they'd swallowed a grenade pin.
He was still standing there. He hadn't moved, but something in his expression had shifted; the blankness was cracking into something cautious, almost unbearably hopeful.
He watched you recalibrate with the patience of a man who had waited through worse silences than this. His whole body was angled toward you — a dog who'd just dropped something at your feet, fighting every instinct to nudge it closer with his nose.
You set your coffee down. Your book went back to the side table with your hands folded in your lap.
"Yeah," you said. "We can do that."
He blinked. "You —"
"When are you free?"
The hope curdled into bewilderment so fast you almost heard the gears strip. "When am I free?"
"I just think it's better if we both stay calm tonight." You said this with the measured, reasonable tone of a man scheduling a dental cleaning. "So what day works for you?"
"What day —" He looked like he was trying to determine whether this was still the same conversation. "You want to — schedule it?"
"I want us to work through this properly. Physically. In person." Your arms folded. You considered the logistics with the same energy you'd give a grocery list. "Take our time. Show each other what we're working with. Figure out the dynamic. No rush."
"The dynamic," he echoed faintly.
"I'll make it romantic. Rose petals, candles, the whole thing." You said it the way someone would say I'll pick up milk on the way home. "Maybe some music. I don't know what you're into yet. We'll figure it out."
Bucky's mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
Because somewhere behind his eyes, two voices were stirring back to life.
Sam, one hand pressed over his heart, eyes shut, that measured breath still cycling in, out, in — it's about presence, Barnes, being fully here, breath to breath, soul to soul.
Steve, his gaze fixed on something luminous that no one else could see, voice swelling like a hymn — it's sacred, Buck, the heavens open up, everything you've carried gets lighter, because you're not carrying it alone.
Romantic, physical, presence, rose petals, candles. The body as a vessel. The connection as a current. The heavens opening.
Those absolute saints. They'd known.
Every word, every impossible piece of advice he'd dismissed as philosophical nonsense — all of it was landing now, rearranged, radiant, slotting into place like prophecy.
"So," you said. Your phone appeared from between the couch cushions with the casual efficiency of a man checking a calendar. "Friday work?"
Carefully, Bucky sat down beside you in slow motion. He looked like a man who had survived something enormous; the dust was only now clearing, the shape of what almost happened becoming visible beside the much better shape of what was actually happening instead.
"Friday works," he said.
You picked your coffee back up. A sip. Your book found its way to your knee again.
He stayed exactly where he was, shoulder pressed to yours. He ran warm in a way you couldn't detect, but he could feel it all the way through — your apartment, your radiator, your coffee steam still hanging faintly in the air.
Impeached pres was known for his drinking binges during which he'd supposedly "joke" about declaring martial law. And then he, uh. Briefly declared martial law. And this addition was born:
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sex with accommodations is hot. sex where you negotiate accessible positions is hot. sex where you listen to your body is hot. sex with limitations is hot. sex where you take breaks is hot. sex that doesn’t look like porn is hot. sex that’s human & messy & clunky & vulnerable & honest is HOT!!! get with it
in my work of fanfiction i am going to hold the villain responsible for their actions by making them have sex with the person they tried to kill, which will effectively address all the relevant moral issues by being hot.
Getting plowed is for the country folk. Here in the city we call it being taken to pound town. And if it's a place with decent public transit, getting railed.
free use is kind of a funny kink bc it relies on the idea that everybody wants to touch you and have sex with you but what if they don't. what if you tell everybody at the party you're free use but they all ignore you and mind their own business
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Authors Notes; Quite frankly I view this guy as extremely vanilla (lmao) so. Ao3 version here
A: Aftercare
Not the best at aftercare but also not the worst. He's extremely awkward as he cleans you up, avoiding eye contact with you or your bits for too long as he wipes you down. Cuddling is also out of the question, as the intimacy would probably give him a second wind and make clean up pointless.
Post awakening, however, he gets much better. He's still awkward but no longer tries to avoid eye contact or touching you too much. Cuddling is still awkward as he does get hard again but he typically ignores it or jerks off, or if you allow it you go again repeating the whole process.
B: Body Part
Dark Cacao Cookie is, quite frankly, an ass man. Due to the nature of the Dark Cacao Kingdom's weather he is safe from the torment of tight clothes and short skirts and shorts, but even if you bend over in the most modest clothing possible his brain takes it and runs with it. Pervy old man who can't stop thinking about your ass even if its during a meeting. He loves spooning and feeling your ass against him. His second favorite part of you is your eyes and how you look at him so deeply in love, though he'd rather die than admit something so intimate and vulnerable.
His favorite part on himself are his arms, they're toned well to better wield his sword and protect his people. He loves it when he can feel you grip his arm for security or balance while walking together, as it makes him feel like he is fully capable of protecting you.
Post awakening his favorite body part on himself are his legs, he worked hard to climb those stairs damn it.
C: Cum
His cum is thick and bitter and he cums a lot. He loves cumming in or on your ass, though if you have a pussy he tries to avoid cumming inside (despite his breeding kink, he's not entirely ready to have another child). Post awakening he does lose that habit and loves cumming inside just to watch it leak out of your ruined hole, and if he's feeling indulgent will fuck it back in with his fingers.
D: Dirty secret
Post awakening Dark Cacao is honestly obsessed with watching you choke on his cock and hopes that you never work on your gag reflex. Its his absolute guilty pleasure to watch you sputter and gasp after taking his massive dick down your throat and he does accidentally get too rough sometimes. He makes it up to you with a ton of praise and like 3 orgasms afterwards so maybe the pain is worth it.
E: Experience
He's had a few partners in the past and clearly had a kid with one of them, so he has some experience. Though pre awakening he's fairly vanilla and hesitates to actually explore kinks and new positions.
F: Favorite position
Honestly boring as fuck and prefers missionary, but after awakening any position that allows him easy access to watch your ass jiggle as he fucks into you is a win in his book. Though he also loves it when you sit on his face. The only exception to the watching your ass rule is when he can hold it and squeeze your cheeks. He prefers to top but will make an exception on occasion.
G: Goofy
Fairly serious but not like militant serious. Sex isn't something he gets to have very often due to his position so he doesn't want to goof off the entire time. Post awakening he loosens up considerably and relaxes.
H: Hair
Well groomed and black with a few white hairs few and far between.
I: Intimacy
Pre awakening he's extremely awkward and tries to avoid anything too romantic, but its very obvious that things like holding his hand, kissing him, or touching him in extremely casual ways works him up more. Post awakening he learns to lean into it and becomes more romantic himself, though it also means that you're in for it every single time.
Pre awakening if you told him "I love you" during sex he'd cum prematurely and get embarrassed and stop, post awakening he still cums prematurely but just fucks the cum further into you while he praises you and tells you how much he loves you back.
J: Jack off
Doesn't jerk off at all, not because its shameful but simply because he doesn't have the time or privacy to do so. He always has an advisor hanging around him or outside his door waiting for something, and even the rare moments he has any peace he still isn't very keen on masturbating in case something happens and he needs to be ready to fight. Paranoid, maybe, but he'd rather be sexually frustrated then fight with his cock out.
K: Kink
Cockwarming; Intimacy is what gets him really going and what's more intimate than doing paperwork with his cock stuffed in your ass? Probably a lot of things but he doesn't really care. Loves feeling you squeeze and squirm on top of him while he presses absent minded kisses to your neck while filling out mindless forms. His hand is also pressed firmly into your hip to prevent you from moving.
Praise; Now you might think him giving the praise is the kink, but it's not. He'll praise you regardless, it's you praising him that gets him worked up. All the ancients have very low opinions of themselves, so hearing their partners talk about how much they love them and how good they are at providing and protecting is one of the sexiest things you can do. This especially applies for Dark Cacao after all of his failures.
Tell him that he's a wonderful king and husband and he's taken such good care of you and he gets a little louder and his hips stutter as he fucks into you, tell him that you love and adore him so much and that he's your world and he cums hard and deep.
Body Worship; Yet again something mutual but really enjoys on himself in a guilty way. Focus on his arms, his stomach, and his legs trailing kisses and bites across the dough. He doesn't typically bottom or sub, so it's extremely rare that you get to do it so make sure to savor the moment by going as slowly as possible. You've really gotta appreciate the way the muscles twitch under his dough as you drag your lips across his abs, or the way his thighs tense when you gentle bite at the inside. When you're finally done playing with him you can focus on his cock, which is painfully hard and leaking so much pre you'd think he'd already cum.
It doesn't take him long to cum down your throat afterwards.
L: Location
The bedroom and maybe at some point the throne room. He's not willing to take too many risks in being seen or interrupted.
M: Motivation
Another pervert where your mere existence is enough to get him going, though you bending over helps. Being romantic with him is another thing that gets him going; telling him you love him, bringing him meals when he's too busy, kissing his cheeks or the palm of his hand. Anything soft and domestic works him up.
N: No
He won't do blood/jam play at all. He's willing to do impact play by spanking you or even slapping other parts of your body but actually drawing jam is where he draws the line. He's also not willing to watch somebody else fuck you, though he will allow a third to participate if they're trusted enough (the other ancients, for example).
He's also not touching daddy kink or any other fauxcest.
O: Oral
Loves both giving and getting oral, and he enjoys it when you tug at his hair or tie it up and hold it for him. Crush his face between your thighs or hold his head down and fuck his throat, it just means he's doing a good job. Would prefer if you came down his throat or in his mouth, but wouldn't really complain if you did it on his face.
Getting oral he rests his hand on your head, and depending on your preferences he either just leaves it there or uses it as leverage to fuck into your throat. Loves cumming down your throat or all over your face.
P: Pace
Dark Cacao's usual pace is slow but deep. When he does get the time to have sex he prefers it to last a while and for you both to cum multiple times. It's less fucking and more making love, but if you call it that he gets flustered and cums too fast.
Q: Quickie
He doesn't really do quickies nor does he enjoy them. He prefers to take his time.
R: Risk
No risk. He not only has a reputation but he also can't get hard if he's too anxious or nervous. He's old as hell give him a break.
Though he probably has fucked you in a closet at some point when you were both drunk after one of Hollyberry's parties.
S: Stamina
Dark Cacao has INSANE stamina and can go multiple rounds without ever getting tired. He also has the energy to pick you up and manhandle you if you get tired.
T: Toys
He's not opposed to them but he doesn't own any himself. He might not see the point in vibrators or dildos since he's right there but he does see the use in them after catching you fucking yourself with one (and getting a nice view of your ass). He's also not opposed to trying a vibrating plug on himself, though he'd never approach you with his curiosities out of embarrassment.
U: Unfair
Dark Cacao isn't that unfair and doesn't really tease you much unless he's tipsy or in a playful mood, that is until he awakens. Post awakening he becomes more unfair and and much more playful, testing his resolve by keeping just the tip of his cock in your hole and seeing how long you two can last before he either gives up or you make a compelling enough argument.
V: Volume
He's fairly quiet outside of the rare grunt or moan, but he does praise and degrade you quite a bit.
W: Wild card
You both have 100% had a threesome with one of the other ancients before; after one of Hollyberry's gatherings. He'd never admit openly (at least until he awakens) but he really enjoyed it.
X: X-Ray
Dark Cacao is fairly large and rather thick, and he only gets bigger post awakening. You need adequate foreplay before he can penetrate regardless.
His dick also has thick veins on the side.
Y: Yearning
His libido is fairly high but he's so disciplined he typically just ignores it. Had it not been for his status as king and his aversion to doing anything that could risk his position he'd probably be having sex more frequently.
Z: Zzz
Dark Cacao takes a while to fall asleep after sex, he needs to check up on you to make sure you're okay and, sometimes if his worries get really bad, do a quick sweep of the castle to make sure everything is okay.
It's been a while; I haven't forgotten my AUs I've just been focusing on other things. I do have a second Spouse of Knowledge fic plotted out that I'll hopefully get done someday.
Ao3 version is here
A: Attraction (What do they find attractive in a partner?)
Pristine Milk finds curiosity attractive. The unwaverable appetite for knowledge no matter how useless that knowledge may be, the never ending search for little facts that do nothing for you other than just something to know. He also values someone who finds wonder in little things, like how a butterfly flaps its wings or the way the wind blows. He takes a lot of things for granted, so having someone who will stop to appreciate the little things is valuable.
B: Banter (How playful is your relationship?)
He can be very playful at times, especially after abandoning his title as the Fount of Knowledge. He loves playing minor pranks on his partner and adores it when they play them back on him. Without all of the stress of being an emissary he's become far more relaxed and shows it, even going as far as dragging his partner back into bed if he's not quite ready to start his day (and ignoring you pushing at his head to get him off).
C: Celebrate (How do they celebrate special events?)
Pristine Milk prefers his own milestones to be quiet (his "birth", for example), but if its a shared milestone or solely yours he goes all out. Star Sapphire and Sweet Apple help but he's the sole culprit behind planning. All of your favorite foods, decorations relevant to your interests no matter how odd, every gift he could possible think to get and buy, he even allows visitors to the Spire so you can have your friends with you (though… they are blindfolded by Star Sapphire and Sweet Apple when led there).
Overall he's still showy just like his corrupted variant would be, but it's less about him and more about you.
D: Dates (What are dates with them like?)
Dates with Pristine Milk are often quiet, reading together, watching a movie, taking a walk, mundane things that don't require too much energy or going out. Though he's not opposed to going out to restaurants or the whatnot, he just prefers quite time with you and him.
And, on occasion, the kids if its a family event like a theme park.
E: Entranced (What about you mesmerizes them?)
At first it wasn't much, but the more he got to know you the more it was everything about you. The way you talk about the things that interest you, the little habits you might not notice like chewing on your pen or your lip or the way you fidget with the pages of books, small little minute tidbits that can easily be overlooked by others are things that he zones in on now.
He focuses on the little things that make you "you".
F: Feelings (When did they get them?)
His feelings were a slow burn of over 400 years. You going from a simple curiosity and pet project to see if he could "rehabilitate" a so called "human" into a cookie, to a friend, to a lover.
His feelings built up gradually from just being excited to see you and relax and be a normal cookie and not a god to being genuinely upset if you were too busy to spend time with him. He doesn't acknowledge those feelings until you finally leave, and then it all crashes on him at once.
It's not that he was in denial, either. It's that he hadn't experienced any of those feelings before and couldn't recognize or categorize them.
G: Gifts (What gifts do they give you?)
Typically books, though he does branch out into things he'd crafted by hand (plushies, paintings, clothes). Everything is relevant to your interests and themed around them. He also favors useful gifts over pointless things that take up space, so the plushies were enchanted to be able to assist with small tasks.
H: Health (How do they take care of you when injured or ill?)
Being a former emissary he was actually baked resilient to diseases, so he gets clingy when you're sick and not feeling well. There is no getting rid of him when you're bed ridden, and he only teleports out for a few minutes to fetch you food and medication before rushing back.
With injuries he's even more clingy, as the risk of somebody realizing you aren't bleeding jam is far too great and he's not about to have some… unfavorable suspects target you for nefarious reasons. Due to your magical resistance healing magic is ineffective so he deals with your injuries the old fashioned way of "close the wound with dressing and ensure that it remains clean". Pristine Milk also no longer allows you to do much of anything that could put stress on the wound or your body and if given the chance would carry you around the entire Spire in his arms.
I: Idealistic (What is their ideal life with you like?)
Marriage with a small family, though he's already achieved both so he's technically living the dream. He'd prefer to move away from the Spire, but due to circumstances outside of his control (nightmares of corrupted versions of himself sneaking through one of the Spires time rifts and the Spire itself calling out to him) he just accepts that living in the Spire is a necessity. He at least still has his little family of you and his students, with plans of finding a way to have a biological child through magical means.
J: Jealousy (How jealous are they?)
It heavily depends on if its a mortal fling or not, with mortals he understands they're a small part of your life (maybe around 80 to 100 years) while he has you for eternity, but if its another immortal cookie flirting with you he becomes a bit more jealous.
Though he also has to deal with the knowledge that his own soul jam visits you in your dreams, but it's not like he can do anything about that jealousy.
K: Kiss (What are kisses with them like?)
Soft and sweet and most often chaste, he gives kisses often but they're so innocent it makes you giggly and giddy the rest of the day. His favorite places to kiss you are on the hands and anywhere on your face. He adores taking advantage of your height difference to press kisses to your forehead when you aren't paying attention.
Pristine Milk's lips taste a little like blueberry and are very smooth.
L: Love (How do they show that they love you?)
Little actions that show that he's thinking of you, things like making you coffee or tea, having the book you were reading moved to your favorite seating area before you even realize you forgot it, having a bath drawn when you look exhausted.
He also shows affection through physical touch, like resting his hand on your back when he's standing next to you or wrapping his arm around your waist.
M: Misunderstanding (How do they handle a misunderstanding in the relationship?)
Despite being like 2000+ years old Pristine Milk can be childish at times. He'll throw tantrums if you upset him too much or sulk if he gets too jealous, and it takes a lot of pampering for him to not whine about his "mistreatment".
Despite his childish nature he isn't stupid; he can parse when it's a genuine misunderstanding caused by miscommunication and will react maturely about it.
N: Nourishment (Who does the cooking and caretaking?)
Pristine Milk is the one who handles a vast majority of the cooking, this is in spite of the fact that he doesn't eat much or at all since the Soul Jam supplies most of his energy. He finds the act of cooking and cleaning to be relaxing, a menial task that doesn't require the use of his brain outside of remembering recipes, occasional conversions if he's making a smaller portion, or what cleaning chemical is safe for cookie use and what's only safe for him to use.
Of course he isn't opposed to you handling it, but will often distract you so he can take over.
O: Observant (How good are they at reading you?)
He's gotten extremely good at reading you over the centuries you've known each other, and he can always tell when you're upset before you've even fully registered that you're upset. He also recognizes the sparkle of curiosity or mischief in your eyes when you're about to go down a rabbit hole of useless information and prepares snacks and drinks accordingly.
P: Pet Names (What do they call you)
My love, my dear, my muse, all sorts of sappy shit. He does frequently use the possessive "my" but will sometimes drop it.
Q: Quality Time (How do they spend their down time with you?)
Reading primarily, though he does enjoy lazing about in bed with you as well. Takes full advantage of his portals to quickly and easily grab whatever could be needed, whether its food or drinks. He does tend to get pouty when your free time ends and you have to get back to work. Pristine Milk even goes as far as latching onto you so you're forced to drag him half out of bed to get away.
R: Romance (How romantic are they?)
Extremely romantic. Primarily in the little ways that show you that he's always thinking about you. Fixing your favorite beverage so its fresh for you, leaving your favorite snacks in your favorite reading spots, leaving you hand written notes wishing you the best day possible.
S: Sacrifice (What are they willing to give up for you?)
Pristine Milk gave up everything for you, his title as the Fount of Knowledge, his position as an emissary of the witches, he was even willing to give up his Soul Jam and live as a normal cookie with you. Pristine Milk was willing to sacrifice anything and everything to keep you, and went through with that promise by cloaking the Spire in mist so it's entirely hidden from all of cookiekind so he could run away to explore the world with you.
He was even willing to risk his very dough by locking it under the silver tree, just to ensure Earthbread was safe for you to enjoy to the fullest, though that thankfully ended up being unnecessary.
T: Temper (Do they get upset with you?)
Very rarely will he get genuinely upset with you, the last time was when you'd had arguments about giving up his title as Fount.
When he does get upset with you he tries to communicate it plainly, though if it's something extremely minor he will be a drama queen about it just to get more of your attention.
U: Understanding (How well do they understand you?)
He sometimes struggles to understand you due to cultural differences and the fact that you fairly regularly reference human things. He does absolutely adore learning to understand you though. He has a whole series of notebooks solely dedicated to writing down your odd habits and sayings.
V: Vent (How open are they about their emotions?)
At first he's still fairly closed off, but he has slowly learned to open up. Pristine Milk wants to value open communication, and that also involves he himself opening up about his emotions and feelings.
It takes a couple hundred years but he does eventually tell you about his full past, describing the witches and their roles.
W: Wild Card
Pristine Milk is constantly fighting for your attention; primarily due to the fact that the Light of Deceit, Light of Truth, and the Spire are all also vying for your attention and affections. The Lights regularly visit you in your dreams and the Spire itself favors you and shows it by shuffling the rooms to your benefit.
If Pristine Milk ever upsets you he immediately gets lost in the Spire with it moving rooms and adjusting hallways so he never makes it to his goal. It also changes every portrait in the halls to be of you, just to remind him he fucked up.
X: XOXO (How physically affectionate are they?)
Extremely affectionate. He loves holding you or touching you in some way, whether it be holding you from behind to rest his chin on your head or holding your hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He gets especially clingy when jealous, practically wrapping himself around your body possessively.
He also loves it when you reciprocate, and fully expects you to shower him in kisses.
Y: Yearning (Do they miss you?)
Every day, every hour, every second you're away. He sends you constant letters when you're away and sometimes even teleports to you specifically to get his fill of attention, even if it uses up all his energy to travel to another continent.
Z: Zzz (What is it like sharing a bed?)
He's extremely clingy and loves spooning, so even if you try to push him away in your sleep he clings desperately. He runs a little on the colder side, so if you run hot when you sleep he's a wonderful sleeping partner. If you run cold you'll probably need extra blankets to survive.
He thankfully doesn't snore or anything, though he does drool a bit in his sleep.
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