#i have no doubt he's excellent but you know

[sickslimez]

STILL IN LOVE! #3 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You anxiously put on your mascara, nervousness building in your chest when your date texted that he was less than five minutes away. It’s been forever since you’ve been on a date, the last one you ever went on was with Toji. You began to grow anxious, a million questions running through your head, self doubt and everything in between. The kids were with Shoko, thankfully she was free for the weekend or else you might’ve had to cancel entirely no thanks to Toji.

You screwed the mascara shut, tossing it back in your makeup bag as you took one last look in the mirror, hands running over your dress to make sure it was flattened out and tight fitting. “Okay.” You took in a deep breath in, trying to calm your nerves. Though all came flooding back once the doorbell rang. “Shit! Okay, okay, be calm,” you spoke to yourself, striding towards the front door, heels hitting the wood below you. You gulped, fingers fidgeting with the lock before you opened the door to finally reveal your date. “Hi!” You smiled.

“Hi…wow,” he looked over your figure, “you look…amazing.” He couldn’t stop staring at you, a small smirk on his face. “These are for you.” He handed you a bouquet of followers.

The smile on your face grew wider as you grabbed the flowers from his hand, sniffing them. “Thank you so much, Nanami.” You averted your gaze towards him. “You look really handsome as well.” It felt like you were back in middle school again, talking to your crush for the first time ever. He wore a black button down, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pair of classic black slacks. His outfit rightfully complimenting yours. “Please, come in.” You grabbed the empty vase that sat on your countertop, filling it with water and placing the flowers in. “These are beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them, they were one of the very few left,” he chuckled. He bit the inside of his cheek when you looked over your shoulder and flashed him a smile. He cleared his throat as you walked over to him.

“Well, thank you again. Shall we get going?” You asked, staring up at him through thick lashes.

Your faces were only inches apart as he held the stare, your perfume filling his lungs each time he took a breath. It was quite intoxicating. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

It was already an hour into the date, you and Nanami were already making great conversation, finding out that you two had a lot in common. He was a hard working man, but always tried to find time for himself when it was necessary. He had his whole life put together, very obvious from the car you two drove to the restaurant in. He was such a gentleman, opening the car door for you, pull out the chair for you. It had you swooning. He had you swooning.

“How’s your pasta?” He asked, slightly leaning forward on the table.

You covered your mouth as you finished chewing. “It’s amazing!” Your eyes swelled up in joy. “Is this your first time here?” You asked.

“It is! I wanted to take you to somewhere new. I’ve driven by this place a few times and it looked pretty interesting. Glad my instincts are paying off,” he laughed, placing his fork down.

“Well, sir, you have excellent taste.” You smiled at him. “How is your food? It looks delicious.”

“It is! Would you like to try some?” He asked.

“Oh, no, no, please you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“I insist. Come on, I know you want to!” He picked up the crab cake he had ordered, breaking off a piece before placing it on a napkin and handing it to you. “Go on, tell me how good it is.” He watched intently as you ate, waiting for your reaction.

“Oh my gosh! It’s so buttery with a slight sweetness,” you let out a satisfied moan. “I’m jealous, Nanami.” He laughed at how serious your face turned once you finished.

He stared at your smile, finding himself mirroring it. You were very lighthearted and fun to be around, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. He was already starting to think about the second date. “Call me Kento.”

“So, how’s the new girlfriend doing?” Gojo asked as he sat on the couch next to Toji, a beer in his hand. Toji glanced at Gojo before averting his gaze back to the television in front of him.

“She’s fine,” he answered, no emotion in his voice. He took a swig of his beer, letting out a sigh. Gojo poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

“Just fine?” Gojo questioned. “You haven’t told me one thing about her since you two got together.”

“Don’t need to,” Toji bluntly stated. Immediately, Gojo could tell something else was plaguing Toji’s mind. Even with a few beers in his system, Toji wasn’t opening up. He knew exactly what it was. Him and Toji have been good friends for years, it’d be shame if he couldn’t tell what was on his mind.

“Okay, so how’s y/n and the kids?” Gojo raised a brow, staring Toji down. There was silence where there was supposed to be answer. He swore he could see Toji’s jaw clench at the mention of your name. Something happened that Toji didn’t tell him about. “Let me guess, you and y/n had some sort of argument and now you’re being pissy about it cause she was one hundred percent right like always?” Gojo batted his eyelashes, giving a cheeky smile.

“Shut the hell up, Gojo,” Toji warned, putting the beer bottle to his lips and taking a big gulp.

“Ah, so I’m right.” There was smug smile on his face as leaned back into the couch. “What is it this time? Did she finally find someone else?” Toji sucked in a breath before exhaling, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Gojo let out an audible gasp, “she did, didn’t she? Holy shit.”

“I don’t know for sure, but we got into an argument about me not taking the kids this weekend, she asked if it was because of yoko and I told her it wasn’t her business and that she was jealous. Then, she told me she had plans, but wouldn’t say with who. So…yeah. You happy?” Toji turned his head towards the white haired man beside him.

Gojo let out a small giggle, before stopping himself. “I’m sorry, you called the mother of your children jealous of your new girlfriend because she asked why you couldn’t take your children? What an asshole you are.” Gojo slowly nodded his head, brows raised in amusement.

“I get it, Gojo. Shut the hell up.” Toji had a firm grip on the beer bottle in his hand, afraid that if he squeezed it any harder, it’d shatter.

“Don’t get me wrong, Yoko is cute and all, but y/n,” Gojo let out a whistle, “y/n is where it’s at. She’s dealt with your ass for eight years, birthed two kids, and is hot as hell..I’d take her over Yoko any day. I see why you couldn’t stay away from her.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Toji glared at Gojo, using what restraint he had not to punch his friends teeth in.

“Just saying.” Gojo shrugged.

Toji’s phone began to ring, quickly grabbing it to see that Shoko was calling. His brows furrowed before he got up from the couch and answered it. “Hello?”

“Yo, Toji, your kids wanted to say goodnight,” Shoko stuffed some ice cream in her mouth, ready to hand the phone off to Megumi, but Toji spoke before anything.

“My kids? You’re the one babysitting my kids? Where’s y/n? Is she there?” Toji leaned against the kitchen counter, brows still knitted together.

“Jeez, you’re full of questions. Yes, I’m watching your kids, and y/n is…on a very, very nice date. Anyway, here are your children,” said with a chipper tone.

Megumi grabbed the phone from Shoko, putting it up to his ear. “Hi, dad, I just wanted to say goodnight. Naya already fell asleep.”

“Hi, buddy, goodnight to you too. Tell your sister I said goodnight if she wakes up, okay?” Toji spoke, placing his beer on top of the counter. He was trying to avoid sounding upset, the information Shoko just told him had his blood boiling.

“I will. I love you, bye!” Megumi quickly hung up the phone before Toji could even respond, leaving his father standing in silence.

The cold night breeze blew past your exposed legs as you walked up to your front door with Nanami, his hand holding yours as he helped you up the steps, making sure you didn’t trip in your heels. “Thank you so much, Kento. I had a great time with you,” you said with a smile, avoiding his gaze.

“I had a great time with you too. Must I say, once again, you look really beautiful tonight. I know you must be tired of hearing me say it, but I can’t help myself.” You took notice of how his eyes scanning over your body, focusing on the tight dress that you wore.

“Trust me, I could listen to you compliment me all night.” It was sort of bold of you to say such a thing, but with the way this man was flirting with you since the moment he laid eyes on you, it was only fair.

“Oh yeah?” His broad body grew closer to you, closing in the small distance. “Maybe we can do that on the second date then?”

You found the courage to look him in his eyes, not daring to pull away, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “I was thinking the same thing,” you responded.

“Good, glad we’re on the same page. Same time next weekend, better be ready.” A smirk tugged at his plush lips.

“Don’t worry, I will. Goodnight, Kento.” You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on his cheek. His hand slipped from yours as you pulled away, unlocking your front door and walking inside.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He took one last good look at you, taking in your smile before shutting the door. Nanami stood on your porch for a while, hands in his pockets, biting down on his bottom lip. He turned to walk down the steps only to stop himself, looking back at your door. Without thinking, he knocked on it.

You opened the door. “Oh, did I forget something?”

“Forgive me.” He cupped your face, planting his lips on yours, a feverish kiss shared between your two. His tongue ran over your bottom lip, gently biting on it. “I couldn’t resist,” he pants.

You were taken by surprise, but still kissed him back. Deep down, you were hoping this would happen. All night the tension was so thick that you could cut with a knife. The way he’d look at you, undressing you with his eyes, only for you to be doing the same. His hands ran up under your dress, squeezing at your thighs. You pulled away from the kiss to speak, “I was waiting all night for you to do this.”

“Yeah, sweetheart? Better not disappoint you then.” His hands ran up your thighs and to your ass, pushing you against the front door. Your hands tangled in his blonde locks as he left wet kisses down your neck. “You looked so good all night I was finding it hard to contain myself,” he admitted. He pushed his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the bulge forming in his pants.

“Just fuck me already,” you moaned. The wetness pooling in your panties was obvious, your cunt throbbing.

“Where?” He quickly asked.

“Anywhere,” you breathily replied.

“Anywhere?” He questioned.

“Anywhere.” You nodded. All while Nanami was stripping you of your dress, you were blissfully unaware of your phone vibrating in your purse for the third time in under two minutes.

“She’s not answering the fucking phone.” Toji tossed his phone on the counter, Gojo standing there with his arms crossed in amusement.

“She’s probably getting the best fuck of her life. Leave her be, she deserves it.” Gojo pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“If you say one more thing, I’m gonna kill you,” Toji threatened. Gojo loved to piss Toji off, especially when he rightfully deserved it. And in this case, he did. “I’m gonna go over there.”

“Don’t go over there! You annoy her enough!” Gojo easily snatched the keys from Toji’s hands. “Wait until tomorrow, okay? Let the woman enjoy her night, she doesn’t need you ruining it.” He stuffed the keys in his pocket.

“Fuck off.” Toji grabbed his beer, chugging it like it was water. He had no right to be jealous, but he couldn’t deny these feeling brewing in his chest. The thought of someone else seeing you like he has, learning your body the way he has, treating you the way you deserved to be treated, and treating his kids with respect, he fucking hated it. He sounded like such an asshole, but deep down a part of you was always his.

“I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be too happy to hear you still care so much about your ex wife getting fucked.” He stared at Toji through his glasses.

“Yeah, well, surprise, she’s not really a girlfriend. I was just seeing her,” he explained.

“Like fuck buddies?” Gojo questioned. Toji answered with a nod. “Interesting that you choose your fuck buddy over your ex wife. Now look at you, lonely and jealous.” Gojo walked off back into the living room.

“You’re insufferable,” Toji muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He’ll let you enjoy your night, but he was definitely going to have a talk with you tomorrow morning whether you liked it or not.

series masterlistf

tag list (comment to be added):

@sweetpo1son @lovebittenbyevans @ryumurin @he4rts444mi @cherrypieyourface @lemonintrovert01 @ladysi0 @avanly @chilichopsticks @tananaxx @akusrider @irlbungee @my-anime-garden @hnm-mika @antiholdinghandsclub @yharnam-prophet @crankyarchives @nnnancyr @kenqki @ebiharachan @dollcest @whoreforjjkmen @yoyio90 @jaegergirl @r0seandth0rns @blankwashed @ittomain1 @3rdmonday @5seos @weird0o0 @1-800-choke-that-ho @s-j320 @viisgrave @mayajadewrites @jhiyoon

[chateaaa]

☆ Sofia - H. Yo

synopsis: Hiori Yo BF Headcanons

pairing: Hiori Yo x fem! reader

warnings: fluff!

request: hihi!! i saw ur requests were open! id like to request hc or anything with hiori (bllk) that's fluff cuz i never see stuff with him you can ignore this if u want and also have a excellent day :))

❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐨�� 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢'𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ❞

- Hiori Yo who would look at you with loving eyes, dreaming one day he would marry you

- Hiori Yo who would take you to all kinds of dates; museum dates, aquarium dates, stargazing dates, you name it!

- Since it's cannon that Hiori likes rainy days, he always expects you to cuddle and play with his hair he can't help it since he is very touch starved

- Hiori Yo who always adored taking photobooth pictures with you, and the digital version of the photobooth would be his wallpaper

- Hiori Yo who would always carry you in any game, he doesn't mind if you steal his kill, as long as you're happy, he would also do some gaming tiktok trends he sees and i feel like he also uses those corny capcut templates 😭 (bye that is so cute and cheesy)

- Hiori Yo who would always do the silly tiktok trends with you, he would also send you atleast 100 random tiktok videos he would expect you to reply to all of them

- Hiori Yo who would show all love languages to you, he can't help it since his parents didnt exacly show care for him, so he shows all love languages for you to know how much he loves you

- Hiori Yo who is very soft spoken when it comes to you, he always gives you assurance and he always prioritizes your happiness <3

- Hiori Yo who would take a long time opening up to you, he would be very shy at the start of the relationship because of the high expectations of his parents, so he began to have self doubts if he even deserves your love

- Hiori Yo who would only show his vulnerable side to you, because he trusts you so much

a/n: stop im giggling and shii while writing this omg i can't believe someone requested!!! tysm for requesting this i had so much fun writing this! luvlots cheatea ☁️

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Love is a killer that never dies (part 2)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. NSFW!! Discussion of dub-con.

Sex Pollen!AU for the short series that began with Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart). Can be read as a standalone.

This is part two of four.

Title taken by another song by Beast in Black -Born Again- since it's not part of the main continuity. Kuraigana Island is Mihawk's home in the manga/anime.

Shanks being in a relationship with his crew's doctor is an allusion to this headcanon list and then to this fic, even though they take place in a different continuity.

*****

He didn’t know whether the bed he was lying on was his or hers, if they were at the fortress or in his home on Kuraigana or somewhere else; he didn’t need to know. All he cared for was that (name) was next to him, and that they were both naked.

The light of the sun played on her smooth skin, making her appear even more radiant than she usually was; the candid blanket that covered the lower half of her body rustled as she turned on her side towards him, a hand raised in an inviting, enticing gesture.

“Mihawk…” she murmured; she had said his name so many times already over the years, but never like this; never like he wanted her to say it “Mihawk, please… take me, I need you so much…”

He didn’t answer; at least, he didn’t think he did, but a moment later (name) was above him, her legs caging his hips, her lovely face close enough the swordsman could feel her breath on his skin; she was smiling, and he knew that in that moment no other man, and no other woman, existed apart from them. “Mihawk… I’ve waited for you for so long…”

He had no conscience of his body, but he saw his hands raise to hold her hips, then her waist, then the soft and delicate flesh of her chest; he saw pleasure explode in her eyes, the profound and deep awareness of how his body could make her sing. Mihawk cherished that sight for a moment, then he lowered his gaze between her legs, and suddenly found it hard to swallow.

“I am yours.” she murmured; she had started caressing his chest, and even without seeing it Mihawk could feel her fingers exploring his skin, her touch gentle but possessive, and then she was lying on top of him, her nipples brushing against his chest “I have always been yours; Mihawk, please, take me, I need to feel you, I can’t wait anymore…”

Now she was in his arms; Mihawk felt that in a moment he would be kissing her, and he knew there wouldn’t be a happier, or more fortunate, man in the world. He saw her murmur his name again, and he closed his eyes, already tasting the sweetness of her mouth…

*

Mihawk woke up. So intense and vivid the dream had been, that for a moment he almost thought he could see (name) in the bed next to him; when the illusion finally disappeared the swordsman sighed, an unspeakable feeling of loss filling his heart… and a weird, unpleasant sensation the swordsman quickly traced back to a part of his body that loudly called for his attention.

Mihawk sighed; he hadn’t woken up with an erection since he was a teenager, but thank all the Gods judging from the position of the sun out of his window he hadn’t slept long, and he still had time before dinner. Unfortunately, the nap hadn’t done him the good he had hoped; rather, he felt even worse than half an hour before, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. Perhaps he was sick, an illness he could have caught from someone at the fortress; the timing couldn’t have been worse, but (name) had told him there were excellent doctors on the island, including the ones who took care of her and her mother’s health. The swordsman did not doubt his friend would immediately send for them, but there was something more pressing he had to do…

He turned on his back; a relieved sigh escaped Mihawk’s lips as he took care of his trousers and undergarments, freeing his cock from their constraint, and wasted no time in taking it in his hand. The heavy column was already leaking pre-cum, a beady drop the swordsman scooped up with his thumb to smear it across the tip; he moaned softly, his back arching against the bed, his forehead and chest wet with perspiration.

What would happen if (name) chose that very moment to come in, perhaps without knocking and waiting for permission to enter like she had been taught to do? She would open the door, begin to say whatever she had come to tell him, and then the words would die on her lips -her lovely lips, soft and that would look so pretty stretched around his…- when she saw the state he was in, naked, moaning and tense, busy pumping his length as if his life depended on it.

“(name)...!”

How would she react? Would she blush? Keep looking despite herself, aware of the inappropriateness of her presence but unable to stop? Would she get excited - would she get horny? Would her gaze linger on his pelvis, on the thick, hard cock and wish she was the one taking care of it? Seems like you are having a little trouble, she would finally say advancing into the room, her gaze fixed on him, desire filling her eyes, want me to help? I know a quicker way to do this, than using my hands…

“(name)... fuck, (name)...”

That would be so good; having her kneel by his side to gently take his cock in her hands, marvelling at its length and girth, before bringing her lovely mouth to kiss it, slowly, savouring his taste, one of her hands holding it and the other rubbing between her legs, because she had gotten excited already as well, and they both knew a blowjob wouldn’t be enough to satiate them…

He felt horrible; feverish, a thirst filling his very being that no drink could ever quench; Mihawk’s free hand was rubbing up and down his chest, playing with his hard nipples, imagining it was her hand instead, that (name), his lovely and beautiful and desirable (name), was with him, on him, fucking him and letting him fuck her, because she wanted him as much as he wanted her, she loved him, and no one would ever come between them for the rest of their lifes…

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…!” Mihawk panted; he was close, close already, because of her, because he was completely and utterly lost to her beauty and grace and charm, and no woman could and would ever compare to her “Fuck, (name)... I need you, I want you so much…”

Pressure mounted inside him; his hips shuddered, and Mihawk finally reached his climax with the image of (name) sucking him off that filled the space behind his eyelids. He was quick to press a hand to his mouth, but his cry invaded the room - and maybe the space out of it as well? Had someone heard him? One of the servants, who would then happily report the news to the rest of the staff, or, Gods forbid, the lady Veressa? What a man, even a guest, did in his own bedroom was his own affair, but Mihawk wasn’t sure he could bear the shame.

What if (name) had been the one to hear? To hear him scream her name as he climaxed? Who knew, perhaps that would be declaration enough, and in a moment the woman would really come into his room, uncertain but hopeful, and ask whether he felt up to a second round…

The door remained closed; Mihawk sighed before turning to contemplate his body, and the squirts of semen spread on his belly. He fortunately hadn’t stained the sheets, but he had to clean himself immediately, and then make himself decent for dinner; it was getting late, and it would have been discourteous to keep his hosts waiting.

The problem was, even after a nap and what had to be the most intense and at the same time unsatisfying handjob of his life, he didn’t feel any better, at all - nor well rested nor… calm. Rather, he felt horrible, light-headed, his muscles aching, and the recent ejaculation had done nothing to make his desire wither. Far from it.

Gods; his heart was still pounding, and when Mihawk brought a hand to his forehead, he wasn’t surprised to feel himself burning. He must have a fever, he reflected, and he did feel weak, but at the same time he had never felt so aroused in his life, his whole body on fire with need - need for her, for her lovely feminine body, for the way they could give each other enough pleasure to make the world stop around them.   

He was hard again - no, he was still hard, even though he had come violently two minutes ago, as the rapidly drying spurts of semen on his belly could attest. Mihawk clenched his teeth; beyond the malaise, beyond the passing relief he had just felt, his thoughts were still focused on (name), on being close to her, under her, inside her. It would have been perfect; it was natural for Mihawk to assume the dominant role during a rapport, but (name) was not a prostitute or one of the women whose face he could barely remember on the next morning. She was special, she was perfect, the only woman he felt he could share his heart with and in whose company he could show the most intimate and fragile part of him; emotional and physical intimacy between them would only match the empathy and understanding they already shared. Knowing her, loving her, had opened Mihawk’s heart and mind to sensations he never thought he could experience; it was scary, in a way, but also something he knew had made his life better.

Also, he simply liked the idea of having her on top of him, kneeling on his lap after she had impaled herself on his cock, a slow, delicious torture that would bring both of them to scream. Mihawk started working himself again, his body immediately responding to the stimulus, as he imagined it, to have (name), glorious in her nudity, rocking above him, her breasts bouncing, her hips trembling with every push, every jolt of ecstasy he was gifting her.

“Oh, Gods… oh, Gods… (name), my (name), you feel so tight…!”

Simply imagining the bliss on her beautiful face, the awareness that him, and no one else, was responsible for making her feel so good and wanted nothing better than to do that again and again for the rest of their lives, was enough to make him come, and come he did, almost violently, this time not even trying to cover the lurid moan of pleasure that escaped his lips as he climaxed.

And again, it wasn’t enough.

He was still hard; still in pain; and still desperate for a relief, both sexual and -how could he put it?- salutary that he felt was just out of his reach, but close. Very close, in fact, probably sitting at the dinner table on the ground floor together with her mother and her very unpleasant cousin, wondering where the hell he was…

Night had started falling out of his window, sensibly lowering the temperature of the room. It was late. He was late, which was new to him, since Mihawk had always made sure to arrive at his various engagements - unless he wanted to be late, like he sometimes did, for his own amusement, when it was the Marines who were expecting him. He didn’t want to keep (name) waiting, but he felt too weak to stand from the bed, let alone wash, get dressed and walk to the fortress’ dining room - not to mention the fact that his erection showed no signs of sagging.

Finally, a discreet knocking came from the door. “Excuse me, sir. Lady (name) sent me to ask you if you intend to join her for dinner.”

Dammit. Just hearing that anonymous voice say her name was enough to make his loins shudder. He clenched his teeth. “I… don’t think I can manage tonight.” he answered in the end, almost curled in a ball on the bed; every single muscle of his body was hurting, the pain seeping through him “Please make my apologies to the ladies; I’m not feeling very well.”

A moment of hesitation. “Would you like me to call a doctor, sir?”

No. It wasn’t medical care he required; he felt it, despite the excruciating torment he was experiencing. What he needed, what he yearned for and what would make everything right, was her - (name). If she came, if she let him take her in his arms, confess how desperately in love with her he was and then fuck her senseless, everything would be fine, he would be fine - and she as well.

If only. Oh, if only.

“There is no need.” he answered in the end, forcing himself to speak normally and not like a man who was being devoured by his sexual impulses “I just need to rest for a while. Tell the ladies I am sorry I can’t join them, and that I will see the lady (name) tomorrow.”

“Very well, sir.”

Alone once more, Mihawk sighed; he didn’t want his friend to worry for his health, but he really was in no condition to present himself in public. Once again, he allowed himself to imagine what would have happened if (name) herself were to come to check on him; she would insist on coming in, deaf to his begging -yes, he would beg. He never had, not even as a young child when his father used a belt on him for some perceived disobedience, but he would do it for her; it was embarrassing to admit it even in the privacy of his heart, but he would be happy to, he would gladly implore for her touch, for a kiss, for the permission to push his hard cock in her warm, tight little pussy- and see the state he was in, horny and agonising in equal measure. For a moment she would remain speechless; then a small, mischievous smile would appear on her lips as she advanced into the room, already untying the knots of her dress, her eyes focused on his throbbing cock. Do you need help, my poor darling? Let me take care of you, I’ll help you relax… hmmm, you’re even bigger than I imagined…  

If only.

In the next hours, Mihawk kept feeling worse and worse. What had started as a low-grade fever and a slight muscle pain evolved into a complete calvary, every inch of his body screaming in agony; his sweat-soaked skin burned, his stomach clenched, his heart beat fast enough to make him fear it was going to explode. And in the middle of all of that, among the suffering and the ache, one thing was sure, a simple, unexplainable truth Mihawk would bet his life on…

He needed her.

He had never felt like this. Desirous didn’t begin to describe the way he felt; aroused was a gross understatement. His whole being -his body, his mind, his very soul- was being devoured from the inside, a hungry, avid beast that roared demanding satisfaction. Everything he had done, everything he thought and felt and remembered, everything he was, had disappeared, leaving behind only an excruciating, fierce impulse: the need to fuck, to make her his, to hear her scream his name and know no other man could ever compete for her attention. He couldn’t get her pregnant -but how lovely it would have been? To see her already feminine and luscious body swollen with his child, her lovely breast heavy with milk? What a dream it would be, the coronation of their love, a little heir to raise, a child he would teach swordplay and she could groom to become the next lord of the island- but he would give her so much, make her come so hard, that she would be indifferent to any other advance. They were perfect for each other, more compatible than with any other person in the world, each other’s soulmate and destined partner; they were both sexually experienced enough to be prosaic, even jaded about it, but the pleasure they could create together and gift each other would be something too intense and precious to describe it in words. Mihawk was generally satisfied with his life, even bored, nothing having troubled or interested him for years; and then (name) had come into his life and everything had changed, even though it had taken him a while to realise him. He wouldn’t say his life would have no meaning without her by his side, nor that he would never experience satisfaction or joy again; but in the event that she didn’t reciprocate his feelings, Mihawk knew he would feel a tiny part of him missing for the rest of his days.

Nevertheless, at the moment he did feel like he could die if he didn’t fuck (name), hard, long, and soon. He wasn’t the sort of man to easily give in to panic, far from it, but he felt it; he was sure of it, even though he couldn’t begin to comprehend how this was possible, and how he could know since he had never experienced anything of the sort before.

If he didn’t do it… if he didn’t have sex with (name), it would cost him his life; the agony he was experiencing would become more and more intense, sapping his mental and physical strength, until he went insane, and his heart stopped beating. 

It was absurd, completely crazy, because while poems and romance novels were full of lovers who, having lost or been rejected by the object of their affection, died of heartbreak, nostalgia and regret making them waste away faster and more efficiently than any plague or malady could, that was only an overused literary trope, it didn’t happen in real life! Or did it?

No; more probably, he had caught an illness, a particularly virulent form of fever, and his feelings for (name), and the promise he had made to himself to let her know what he felt before the end of his vacation on the island had done the rest. People didn’t die of lack of sex; that sounded like the plot of a particularly tasteless romance novel. After all he was a pirate, he did travel around and came in contact with all sorts of people; it wasn’t unlikely that he had contracted some kind of sickness. 

Right?

That night was the worst of his life. The ache afflicting his body was excruciating, but the desire devouring him without any hope for respite was worse. He masturbated two more times, climaxing every time more violently than the previous one, before his cock finally went limp in his hand; Mihawk choked a sob of relief, but that moment of peace was short-lived. His body could have reached its limits, at least momentarily, but his mind hadn’t, and his passion for (name) was still vivid, the desire to make her his and reach heaven with her lovely body writhing under his unyielding; hour after hour, he started feeling himself suffocating, as if his lungs could not process the pleasantly cool air entering through the window. 

The bed around him was a mess, spots of semen staining the soft linen sheet; disgusted, Mihawk took it off and threw it on the floor. He didn’t even want to know what the maids who would sooner or later enter to clean the room and make his bed would think, and if those voices were to reach (name)’s ear…

Night had fallen on the island, a crescent moon shining in the sky out of his window, and the fortress was immersed in silence. MIhawk forced himself to crawl out of the bed and walk aimlessly around the room, if only because anything would have been better than tossing and turning without any hope for respite; he wished he had something to keep his mind occupied, a book or a newspaper, but he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on reading in any case, and given the state he was in, slipping quietly out of the fortress and tire himself training with Yoru was out of the question. 

He thought about (name), about how lovely and sensual she had to look in that moment, lying in her own bed, completely unaware of his predicament. What did she wear at night? A delicate silk nightgown, only reaching down her tights given the relatively warm night, leaving her shapely legs naked and hugging her curves like Mihawk would have given half of his blood to be able to do, or something else? Perhaps she slept in the nude, the soft fabric of the sheets caressing her naked skin, her plush breasts pressed against the mattress, her legs unconsciously spread apart as if to invite a lover -him- to…  

He moaned; he couldn’t help it. He knew where (name) slept; leaving his room, he could reach her door in less than five minutes, slipping unseen along the corridors. He could enter, wake her up gently, hope she would realise he posed no danger before she retrieved her derringer from under her pillow and shot him twice, and confess how much he wanted her. And then -he was sure, sure enough he could bet his life on it- she would immediately reciprocate his feelings, and invite him in her bed; the symphony of their pleasure would fill the air… 

Mihawk sighed, all too aware of the inappropriateness of his thoughts as he walked back to the bed, took a pillow and brought it to the window, hoping the cool air would make him feel better; it placed the pillow against the sill and started rocking against it, one of his hands keeping it in place and the other running over his body, stimulating it where and how he wanted her to do. He knew that coming again would mean staining the pillow, adding fodder to his shame, but he couldn’t help it; his legs felt as if they were about to give way, his heart pounding, his vision swimming. He didn’t care if someone, perhaps a guard patrolling the courtyard or a messenger returning from a late assignment, saw him; he needed her, he needed to mate with her so much it hurt, so much it could kill him, but he didn’t want it to be like this. He wanted to court (name), not to seduce her -she was no naive maiden who could become enamoured with anyone who gifted her a flower and spoke sweet nothings to her ear- but to convince her of the depth and intensity of his feelings, and of the happiness they could find within each other. No matter how amazing the sex between them could be, she was no prostitute willing to bat her eyelashes to any client who could pay for her time, nor a tavern wench who would join the patrons in their rooms for a tip; she deserved better - she deserved the world and Mihawk intended to give it to her, regardless that she was strong and resilient enough to take it for herself, if she so desired. He did want to make love to her, all night long, in any way they could think of; but what he needed, what would make him happier than any man in the world had ever been, would be to have (name) give him her heart, like Mihawk had already given her his. 

He could feel blood burn in his veins; he raised his gaze at the stars filling the dark expanse above him, and thought that none of them was more beautiful than (name), beautiful and unattainable. The night was silent, a pleasant scent arising from the garden under him, the garden that he should have led the woman he loved to for a night stroll after dinner, had he not been incapacitated by…

And then it hit him, sudden and violent like no blow from an opponent had done in decades. 

Garden. Scent. 

Of course.

Flowers. The flower!

That’s what had happened to him; not an illness he could have caught through contact with another sick person. That damn plant that (name) received as a gift from her cousin had spurted its grains in his face in what had appeared to be a defence mechanism against predators; he had felt no pain, even though the episode had been somewhat embarrassing, but he had breathed the pollen which, not unlike a toxin, had poisoned him, attacking his organism and making him fall sick.

Did Theon know the danger that apparently innocuous flower represented? (name) had seemed surprised to receive a gift from him, which could suggest the whole matter had been orchestrated by the man as a cruel prank on her. The more he thought about him, the more sinister the whole matter appeared to his eyes; if the woman was the destined victim, did the man -her own cousin, a blood relative- intend to take advantage of her, given the fact she could be unable to say no? Fortunately no harm had been done, but Mihawk would make sure that idiot would regret the day he was born.

He was hard again; knowing where those impulses came from didn’t help, because while his current inability to keep his erection under control was due to the flower’s poison, Mihawk knew his feelings were genuine, and had been for a long time. Rather, that made things even more complicated, because he couldn’t simply ask for (name)’s help, with the tacit agreement they would both forget about it once he had found his relief and carry on as if nothing had happened. He did want her, desperately; this horrible misadventure changed nothing. And he only needed to survive this night -or not? How long would the effects of the flower’s toxin last? Was he destined to feel like this forever, until his body simply couldn’t bear it and his heart stopped?- and then he would come clean about his feelings, making sure she knew how much he cared for and admired…

A sudden stab of pain darted through his abdomen, forcing the swordsman to his knees; he screamed softly as he felt his body revolting against him, begging for a release his hand couldn’t give it.

“(name)... oh, (name), I need you… please, please make me come… darling, I need you…” he moaned, his cock already clenched in his hand; his balls felt heavy, his hips humping against nothing; when he came for the umpteenth time he felt no pleasure, and he barely had the strength to reach for the discarded sheet and use it to clean himself. The pillow had fortunately survived the ordeal unscathed, but Mihawk left it on the floor as he turned to the chair he had left his coat on; he retrieved his Den Den Mushi from the right pocket and then crawled back to the bed.

Thank all the Gods, the person he needed to contact answered almost immediately. 

“Mihawk?”

 “Shanks. I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”

“Don’t worry about that. Are you alright?” the red-haired pirate asked, immediately tense even though he had to have been fast asleep until a moment before; he knew the swordsman wasn’t the sort of man who made courtesy calls, especially not in the middle of the night. Curled with the Den Den Mushi in his hand close to his mouth, Mihawk hesitated for a moment before eluding the question. 

“I need your help.” he started urgently; normally he would have bitten his own arm off rather than uttering those words, but Shanks was the only man in the world he felt relatively comfortable admitting it to “I don’t have time to explain. The last time we met, there was a book on the table in your cabin; the cover was dark green, it was about medicinal plants.”

“I think I know the one you mean. It’s one of the doctor’s books.”

The doctor -he called her that, but with the sort of voice and smile who made it immediately clear that their relationship went much above and beyond that between a captain and one of his crewmates- was Shanks’ partner, the woman who also acted as a physician on his ship. Mihawk had only met the woman a couple of times and held no particular interest for her, but for a moment he felt a burning envy towards his friend, who could kiss his partner every time he wanted and had no reason to doubt her feelings for him. 

“Why the sudden interest?”

Gods, his stomach felt on fire, the pain so intense he had to actually focus in order to continue the conversation; Mihawk clenched his teeth, ordering himself to carry on.

Mihawk had never intended to share his feelings for (name) with anyone, not even a close and trusted friend like Shanks, but he had just once made the error of mentioning her to him, and the red-haired captain had to have perceived something in his voice, because he had become curious, and insisting relentlessly to know more he had realised something very special existed between the swordsman and the mysterious lady. In the end, thanks to a glass of wine too many, Mihawk had in the end confessed he wanted more than being simply (name)’s friend - he wanted her, to himself, forever.

“There was an illustration I saw; a tall flower with bright pink petals, closed around the centre. Shanks, I-I need you to read all that the book says about the flower.”

“You are so worried about a flower? This late at night?” Shanks asked; he sounded curious, not irritated, but every second they lingered was a torture the swordsman would rather spare himself “Mihawk, what is happening? I thought you’d be with (name), at her island; is this flower something you want to gift her?”

“Not exactly. Shanks, I promise I’ll explain soon. Find that book and read it to me.”

“As you wish. Wait a moment…”

Mihawk did, his heart in his throat. Through the line, he heard the faint rustle of a sheet pushed to the side, and then a hushed conversation; either Shanks was sick as well, and forced to spend the night in the Red Force’s infirmary, or his doctor had gotten lost and ended up sleeping in her captain’s bed. Lucky bastard, Mihawk thought without resentment.

“Alright, I found it. Bright pink, as you said.”

“What does it say?”

“So, the name of the flower is Lily of Twilight… which makes no sense, lilies don’t look like this. In any case they are pretty rare, growing only on a few inhabited islands in the Calm Belt, and… oh…”

Silence fell; Mihawk forced himself to wait while Shanks read to himself, and when he spoke again, the red-haired pirate’s voice was devoid of its usual playful tone. “Mihawk, don’t tell me you, or (name), have breathed the pollen of this flower.”

“I have.”

“... shit.”

Another pause. More than feeling it, Mihawk saw the hand holding the Den Den Mushi begin to shake. “Shanks.” he carefully articulated “What does it say?”

“Well, that this flower sort of spews out its pollen to defend itself against insects, and if a person were to inhale it… it causes fever, vomit, seizures, vertigo, the pain must be excruciating and… it also says here that it has a very intense aphrodisiac effect. Like, err… extremely intense. Unrestrainable, even.”

Silence.

“Are you…?”

“What do you think?” Mihawk asked brusquely “Is there a cure?”

The sound of a page being turned followed. “Just a moment…” 

“Is your doctor listening?”

“No, I came out of the room to let her sleep.” Shanks explained quickly, now as worried as his friend “Here it is. There is no cure for the physical distress, but if the hunger is sated, the other symptoms should disappear quickly. You… well, I think you only have one thing to do.”

Mihawk agreed; there was no other solution, but at the same time, the swordsman felt ready to bear the agony that was devastating his body for the rest of time, rather than asking for the help of the only person who could give it to him.

“At least you are in the right place; I mean, with her there with you. Imagine if you were alone on Kuraigana, or in the middle of the ocean…”

“I’m not going to do it.”

“What?!”

Mihawk tried to answer, but suddenly he found himself unable to see; for a few terrifying seconds, his eyes had simply stopped working. He had time to fear this was his end, that his body had started wasting away and he would spend the rest of his life blind, and then suddenly he could see again, although the world seemed to sway in front of him.

He had little time left; he felt it. He didn’t know how much, but little enough he couldn’t afford to think about feelings and tact. Nonetheless…

“I won’t tell (name) what is happening to me.” he stated as calmly as he could - that is, much less than he would have wanted “Nor will I… ask for her help to solve this little problem.”

The little problem had just raised its head between his legs, proudly hard once more; Mihawk sighed.

“Mihawk… I don’t think you realise the danger you’re in.”

“I know what I’m doing, Shanks.”

Shanks grunted. “Forgive me, but I don’t think you do. The book says that if not stopped in time, the pain could kill you, and there have also been victims who, unable to satisfy their appetites -who the hell wrote this stuff?- ended up losing their mind. Is this what you want? To go insane because you didn’t tell (name) you’re in love with her? After all this is also why you accepted her invitation, did you not? You already planned on doing that.”

He did, which made his friend’s words even more reasonable; Mihawk didn’t answer, too focused on the agony he was going through, and for once unable to.

“Of course, it doesn’t necessarily have to be (name) who helps you… scratch your itch; this is not a true-love-kiss situation. I don’t know if there is a brothel on the island, but…”

“I am not asking (name) to procure me a prostitute!” Mihawk exclaimed. He actually screamed, the words echoing in the room, and the swordsman bit his tongue; this was just what he needed, to make the whole fortress aware of his plight “I would never be able to look at her in the face again, let alone tell her how much I want her.”

It was true, and at the same time not the whole truth, since there was another reason, one Mihawk didn’t dare confess, not even to a loyal friend. Shanks was right, love and even just acquaintance were not necessary to find the relief he craved so much; strictly speaking all he needed was a hole to fill, and (name) was probably pragmatic enough to understand he didn’t mean to disrespect her home bringing a prostitute in it, if he explained the situation to her. 

Still.

It has to be her. Even if it is only meaningless sex, even if it costs me my life. I want no one else; I will have no one else. Only her, because she is the only one I could ever love.

He didn’t say it, but Shanks seemed to perceive his reasoning all the same, because Mihawk heard him sigh; he imagined his friend was sitting on the floor in the corridor out of his cabin, the book in his lap, since it wouldn’t have been easy for a one-armed man to hold both that and the Den Den Mushi. 

“Listen, I’m not saying I would act differently if I were in your shoes.” the red-haired pirate murmured in the end “I’m just saying that (name) wouldn’t want you to die, or worse, for a matter of honour; and I don’t want it either, if you’re interested. If this woman actually cares for you, and if you explain exactly what happened to her, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Mihawk promised he would remember. “Thank you, Shanks. I’m sorry I brought you into it.”

“Don’t mention it. Call if there is something I can do to help.”

They said good-bye. Mihawk deposed the Den Den Mushi on the bedside table and let himself fall back on the bed, exhausted like no training session had left him in years.

Now he knew what actually awaited him, and he had to admit the consequences of letting his urges get the better of him were even worse than he had imagined; to die before his time was something the swordsman had always known was a possibility, even at least a decade after the last time an opponent had seriously troubled him, but losing his mind was almost too horrible a destiny to consider. A quick, clean death was far preferable, even if he had to give it himself.

A sudden wave of nausea overtook him; a hand pressed to his mouth, Mihawk was able to crawl out of the bed once more and reach the porcelain basin in a corner of the room, full of the still clean water he had used that morning to wash his face. The stomach cramps as he retched were almost unbearable; the swordsman fell to the ground, feeling every ounce of his body beg for mercy.

For the first time, as he waited for his legs to feel steady enough to carry him, Mihawk seriously considered telling (name) the exact nature of his plight, and the only way he had to live to tell the tale; at the very least, he had to warn her of what her cousin might had wanted to do to her.

What would his friend think? Mihawk was confident that, faced with the prospect of having him die under her roof if no one alleviated his suffering, (name) would do everything within her power to help… even though she might not want to do it herself, given the fact there was a house of pleasure on the island and she could easily find him a bedmade.

What if she felt she was taking advantage of him, given the fact Mihawk wasn’t in the condition of saying no, even though and specifically because his life was on the line? What if he couldn’t convince her of how desperately in love with her he already was, and had been for months, and that he wouldn’t want any other woman?

What if she simply wasn’t interested in him, and would therefore rather find him another partner, or worse, what if she would only do it out of an obligation, because she didn’t want him to die, without any emotional involvement? Mihawk wasn’t sure he could bear it. 

What could he do? For the first time since he had been old enough to decide for himself and had taken charge of his own life, Mihawk saw no clear, definite answer.And more importantly, what should he do?

[separatist-apologist]

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3

Lucien was sent to the north two days after his wedding, leaving Elain alone at court. Her sisters were gone, her parents returned to Spring, which left Elain to figure out Autumn without her usual supports. Elain was tempted to isolate herself, but like the females in Spring, the ladies of Autumn stuck together, for the most part. They had branches, smaller groups within the larger one, and Elain wanted to get in with one, just for security.

Which was how she found Ayla. 

Ayla clearly led one the smaller groups of females and Elain wondered if it was because she was so obviously beautiful. With long, thick hair the color of cinnamon that fell in heavy, ringlet curls and eyes like obsidian, and a wardrobe to rival the Lady of Autumn herself. If Eris hadn’t already been married, Elain would have assumed Ayla was a contender. She seemed born to rule in some capacity.

And rule she did—over a card game every afternoon in the parlor. It was invitation only, and Elain had been invited by Ayla herself as she’d wandered aimlessly through the hall. 

“Elain, right?” she asked, plopping into the chair beside Elain. “I was at your wedding. You were beautiful.”

It was a lie, but Ayla made it seem sincere. “Thank you.”

“I was hoping you’d join me and a few friends this afternoon? We play a friendly game of cards,” she began, fingers twisting a gold ring around her middle finger. “You could ask Arina, too, if she’d like to join.”

“I will,” Elain said, needing to be on good terms with the ladies, especially if Lucien was going to run off every chance he got. Elain was certain he’d run off to meet up with a female and it made her hate him a little.

“Excellent,” Ayla said, clapping delicate hands together. She practically floated away, leaving Elain to track Arina down far, far within the bowels of the palace. She hadn’t realized she’d need permission from the High Lord to actually go inside the library. Beron Vanserra terrified Elain—she’d never ask. Instead, she politely begged one of the scholars to bring Arina to her, and moments later Arina herself appeared, the only bright thing in the gloom.

“We’ve been invited to a card game,” Elain said without preamble. 

Arina wrinkled her nose. “By who?”

“Ayla.”

“Ugh–”

“Please come with me,” Elain implored, looking up at the only woman she could count on to be friendly to her. Elain understood that Ayla needed the future Lady of Autumn to appear, if only to enhance her own social status. Back home, the ladies had clamored for Nesta’s friendship and attention, much to their detriment. Nesta loathed social climbers. 

“Fine,” Arina grumbled, gathering her skirts as the pair began climbing back up the stairs.

“Why don’t you like her?”

“There was a rumor, when I first came, that she and Eris…”

“Oh. Oh. Did they?”

“Well, I never asked,” Arina sniffed, chin lifted in the air. “I didn’t want him to think I was jealous.”

“But you are jealous,” Elain teased.

“He doesn’t need to know that. His ego is already unchecked without my help. It’s good for him to think he doesn’t quite have me.”

“You accepted the mating bond,” Elain reminded her. 

Arina merely waved her hand, as if to say semantics. Elain doubted very much that Eris worried a whole lot about losing Arina given the fact that she’d so easily ingratiated herself into his life. Elain doubted very much Arina would leave him even if he’d slept with every available female at court. Eris was a lot older than Arina—of course he must have.

Though, it made her wonder who her husband had been sleeping with. Surely there must have been people before his murdered lover. Would it bother her? If Ayla slept with Lucien, would Elain avoid her, too?

She didn’t know the answer to that. In some ways, it felt like relief to know her husband had interests outside of annoying her and that he might discreetly pick up with someone else to spare her his attention. It was also strangely humiliating to imagine. Courts were small, insular, and the nobility of Prythian well connected. How long before rumors swirled of Lucien’s disinterest?

Elain could not win. 

Elain shoved thoughts of Lucien from her mind. She didn’t want him, so who cared what he did or didn’t do? The pressure in her chest crested for a moment, thrumming with heat before she could settle herself down. Elain took three calming breaths and the feeling subsided, though it lingered just below her ribs, aching like a bruise. 

Ayla’s card game was massive. Held in a large parlor papered in orange and brown flowers, the room could have held five hundred people comfortably. Tables were arranged with little placards noting who sat where. A long table held tea sandwiches and cakes, towers of little pastries and every beverage a person could possibly ask for. No one was eating, and when Elain and Arina arrived, the ladies already gathered hushed softly, eyes wide with excitement.

This would be the source of everyone's gossip for the rest of the week. 

“You came!” Ayla said, disentangling herself from a group of beautiful women. “I didn’t think—but oh, this is delightful. Here, you’ll sit here.”

Elain didn’t bother to ask who got booted from Ayla’s table. Arina sat, nodding toward the two other women that were already there. 

“Zoelyna,” she began pleasantly, smiling at the redhead. “Celeste.”

They looked like sisters, with the same shade of coppery red hair and bright, blue eyes. They smiled at Arina, launching into a thousand questions meant to occupy Arina’s time. Elain watched Arina with some awe, knowing that Arina did not like these functions or, really, any of the people in the Autumn Court. And yet she had this way of making people feel special—seen. Elain hoped to emulate that.

Maybe, she reasoned, she could make herself so beloved among the ladies they would refuse her husband out of respect or love…or fear, which seemed to be the tactic Arina had employed. There was soft reverence to the way everyone spoke to her that suggested their fear of crossing her. It was absurd—Eris was so besotted that anyone with eyes could see it. 

Though, Elain supposed he had enough power to make him appealing, even with a mate. A mistress often wielded incredible power and if her husband wanted, he could elevate her to the position of a wife without care or concern to how his actual wife felt about it. 

“Explain the rules to me,” Elain said once Ayla sat down, determined to make them all like her.

Ayla beamed. “It’s quite simple, really. Each of us will flip a card in our hand, and the highest suit wins.”

“That’s it?”

“We could make it more interesting, if you like,” Ayla suggested, reaching for a bracelet riddled with diamond on her wrist. “If you want.”

Arina sighed, taking off her pearl earrings while Zoelyna and Celeste both tossed rings in the center of the table. What did Elain have that she could trade besides the coins jingling in her pocket? Reaching within, she pulled out the little pouch and dumped them along with the jewelry. 

“Excellent,” Ayla said with a shark's smile. “I look forward to taking your money, ladies.”

“In your dreams,” Arina retorted, picking up her hand of cards delicately. “I think I’ll buy myself a new gown.”

Ayla smiled at her own hand. “I think I’ll get a new pair of shoes.”

Elain didn’t know what she’d do with their things. Probably return them, truthfully. It hadn’t occurred to her until right then that Elain had no money at all other than what had been sent with her. If she needed things, did she ask Lucien? What if he said no? She knew men like that, who controlled the purse strings so tightly their wives had to beg for simple items like shifts and undergarments. 

She didn’t hear what Zoelyna or Celeste wanted, lost in her own musings about Lucien’s petty cruelty. 

Elain merely shrugged. “I won’t count my coins until they’re in my hand.”

“Smart,” Ayla murmured, eyes bright. “I suppose you aren’t terribly competitive like the rest of us.”

But Elain was competitive. Quietly so, which had always annoyed her sisters. They’d be fighting amongst themselves, battling to be the winner and Elain would sneak in and steal the first prize because they’d forgotten her. 

Again.

It was her strategy in this game, too. She watched them watch each other, and threw her first few hands with an exaggerated, yet good natured sigh. Ayla and Arina immediately began going after each other much like Feyre and Nesta would. Elain’s first win was played off with a chagrined smile.

“What fun!” she declared as Ayla put a little mark in her favor. Elain threw her next hand just for good measure before taking the next five. Ayla and Arina chalked it up to a lucky streak, but Elain had just nearly pulled ahead and had no intention of giving that up. With a sweet smile, she continued to lay down her cards until Arina tossed hers down in frustration.

“You’re cheating,” she accused.

“I would never,” Elain protested, half laughing. “You’re simply a sore loser.”

It was the most fun she’d had since…well. Elain couldn’t remember the last time she had that much fun. So much of her time in recent memory had been spent trying to thwart, and later spite,

Lucien, that she’d let her friendships fall to the wayside back home. Here, though, looking at the shining eyes and bright cheeks of the ladies seated before her, she thought perhaps the worst was behind her.

After all, she was married now. There was no more thwarting Lucien outside of the marriage bed, no more spiting him when he slunk off to avoid her. Why shouldn’t she try and find some enjoyment in this moment. Elain smiled. Maybe Lucien would rarely be home.

Maybe she’d be able to enjoy herself.

LUCIEN:

He hadn’t intended to see Jesminda. Lucien had merely wanted to get out of Autumn for a minute, and Dawn was just far enough to clear his senses of Elain. His friend Nuan lived here, and had agreed to host him for a day while he bullshitted around delivering his fathers proposal for new tariffs on goods. Eris must have been monumentally stupid, or desperate, to relocate Jesminda here.

At first, Lucien thought he was merely hallucinating her in the market. But now—that was her light brown skin, her bouncy brown hair, and her wide eyes staring at him, lips parted in an oh. His legs began moving of their own accord, body vibrating with the need to just touch her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head back and forth as she held up a finger. Lucien’s heart shattered even as he kept moving. “I promised your brother. You weren’t supposed to come looking for me.”

“I…I didn’t know,” he managed, fingers brushing the long sleeve of her green gown. “You’re safe.”

“I was,” she agreed, glancing around nervously. Grabbing the front of his tunic, Jesminda dragged him past rows of vibrant market stalls to a darkened ally where they could talk. “Lucien, go home to your wife.”

“I won’t,” he said, reaching for her face. Jesminda let him, her agony a mirror for his own. “We could leave. We could board a boat right now and leave for the continent.”

“And what then, Lucien? Will you work like some common man?”

“You know I would,” he protested, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “I told you I would. My crown means nothing to me—”

“And your wife?” she pressed, pulling her face from his grasp. “What of her? You’ll leave her to the mercy of your father? I wouldn’t ask you to do that on my behalf.”

“She means nothing to me,” Lucien lied, cringing as he said it. Jesminda noticed, nostrils flaring.

“Oh, Lucien,” she whispered and of course she’d know. No one knew him better. 

“It means nothing.”

“You’re lying,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth. “You…you think it won’t, but in ten years—fifty years—your mind will drift back to her and you’ll wonder—”

“I won’t,” Lucien said, well aware he was begging when he already knew the answer. He would have gotten on his knees if he could have, would have cut his own throat if she’d asked him to.

But Jesminda wouldn’t, and so Lucien remained standing before her, desperate for her to say the only words he wanted to hear.

I love you, Lucien. 

“This is wrong and you know it's wrong,” Jesminda whispered, taking a step toward him. “I swore to your brother I would never speak to you again—”

“Fuck Eris!” Lucien exploded, his feelings all over the place. “Fuck all of it—”

“I want you to go home, Lucien. To your ma—to her. And I want you to treat her well…and…” her bottom lip trembled as Lucien shook his head no. “I want you to leave me alone. Don’t look for me—if you see me in the street, don’t acknowledge me. Don’t write to me. Do not…do not even speak my name.”

“Jes—”

“Swear it,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Swear that you will keep the memories of what we had and you will let me go. Swear it to me right now.”

“I won’t.”

“Then I might as well hand you the sword your father will use to remove my head right now. If you love me, you will let me go.”

Lucien swallowed his urge to cry right along side her. “I could keep you safe.”

“You can’t keep us all safe. You’d sacrifice your mate,” she whispered the word, as if it pained her to say it, “for me?”

Lucien started to say that he would, but the words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t make that promise and Jesminda knew it. She knew what all Fae knew—your mate was the other half of your soul. To lose Elain would be losing part of himself, even if they didn’t want each other or were a bad match. 

Shaking her head of curls, Jesminda offered him a brave smile. “I wondered why it didn’t snap for us. I wish…but it didn’t, and it's better to know now that it was never going to. You and I…we were…” She offered him a pretty smile that cracked his heart in half. “I’m glad I know. Some part of me will always love you, Lucien, but I’ve made my peace with how things ended. My family is still in Autumn and I’m hoping to get them out.”

“Are you happy?” he asked, voice cracking.

Jesminda considered this before offering him a bright smile. “I am. I always wanted to see the world…and Dawn is just one stop along the way.”

“I want you to be happy,” he told her, not bothering to add that he wanted her to be happy with him.

“Your brother was generous. I…I’m going to be okay, Lucien. And so will you. Trust me.”

She leaned up on tiptoes, pressed her lips against his cheek, and stepped back before he could do something rash. Jesminda offered him one last smile, eyes glassy and bright, before slipping out of the ally. Lucien let her, back against the brick, terrified that if he saw where she went he’d try and track her down. She’d asked him to let her go, and Lucien wanted to give her what she wanted.

Even if what she wanted wasn’t him.

Abandoning his plan to waste more time in Dawn, Lucien decided to return home for the night before spending the remainder of his time down by the sea drinking with sailors until he forgot his own name. Lucien winnowed onto the grounds, expecting silence.

Instead he found Elain at the center of what seemed to be a rowdy game with a gaggle of the well-bred ladies of court…and Arina, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed to slits.

“She cheated.”

“You’re a sore loser!” Ayla declared, half hiding behind Elain who was clearly trying to mediate the situation. Not far away, Tanwen lounged on marble steps leading up to the palace, wanting the whole thing play out with a furrowed brow. Elain hadn’t noticed him, which gave Lucien and his aching heart a chance to compare her to Jesminda.

“It’s simply a misunderstanding,” Elain assured them both, hands thrown out to keep Arina from swinging. Lucien was in a mood.

“Arina is simply sore that Ayla was promised to Eris before she came along,” Lucien said, silencing the entire lawn as he stalked away. He thought he’d gotten away with it, too, until something hard bounced off the back of his head. Lucien whipped around to find his wife standing there, wide-eyed and impossibly innocent despite the mallet held in her hand. 

Arina burst out laughing, doubled over as Ayla pressed her fingertips to her lips. 

“Did you throw something at me, wife?”

Elain only shook her head, the picture of chaste nobility. “I would never. Are you well?”

Lucien began to stalk toward her, so angry he could barely contain it. His rage must have shown because some of Elain’s mirth slipped and he saw her fear as she took a step backward.

“Brother!” Tanwen called, jogging toward Lucien before he could do anything rash. “Come inside with me, have a drink. You look like you need it.” It was a warning. Lucien exhaled as he nodded his head. Aware he was being watched by more than just Arina and Ayla, he looked at Elain and said, “You look pretty today.”

That was always an easy complement to give. Lucien couldn’t imagine there would ever come a time when Elain wasn’t pretty. 

“You’re falling to pieces,” Tanwen muttered when they were out of earshot. “Too many outbursts and you’ll draw fathers attention.”

“Who asked you?” Lucien snapped. 

“You know the consequences. You have a wife now, so you have a weakness. Elain doesn’t look as if she’s faced a hardship in her life. I can’t imagine how she’d fare in the dungeons paying for your fury. But no one asked me,” Tanwen replied, veering off to leave Lucien alone in the hall feeling guilty and angry and so, so empty all at once. Lucien went to one of the study’s in the palace—the one he and his older brothers typically occupied when they were trying to escape the noise of the place—and poured himself a drink. No one came to bother him, which was for the best.

Lucien threw the first glass back like a shot. The second and third, too.

The fourth burned as he pressed his back against the cool wood of the wall and sank to the floor, heart racing. Lucien finished his drink before abandoning the glass for the bottle itself. Eyes closed, all he saw was Jesminda telling him not to look for her ever again. That she was happy. 

He wasn’t. She hadn’t asked, likely because she already knew what he’d say. 

And she was right. Lucien buried his head in his knees, choking back the urge to sob himself hoarse. She was right. To chase after her was to condemn her entire family to death and his own mate. What kind of male was he?

A foolish one, with a foolish heart. 

Lucien didn’t remember falling asleep, though he did remember throwing up in a vase somewhere around his seventh or eighth drink. Barely conscious, he felt cool hands on his face and the smell of honey and jasmine.

“Not you,” he slurred as another rougher set of hands hauled him to his feet.

“Take him to the kennels,” a voice that sounded suspiciously like Eris’s ordered. “I’ll have him hosed down and he can sleep with the dogs since he wants to act like one.”

“Don’t—don’t do that. Bring him to me,” came that melodic voice that could only belong to his wife.

“It would please me far more to see him sleep with the animals.”

“Well, it wouldn’t please me. And if you displease me, I’m going to tell your wife to punish you.”

“I love when my wife punishes me—ow, did you hit me?!”

Lucien peeked open an eye as he was dragged, but the world spinned violently, prompting him to close them again. Elain and Eris spoke more, mostly teasing if Lucien judged the tone of their words right, but in truth he was pretty sure he fell back asleep as he walked.

“You’re heavy,” he heard Elain whisper, fingers undoing the buttons on his jacket deftly.

“And you’re forward,” he mumbled, turning so he could lay on his stomach. “I don’t need your help.”

Elain said nothing, though the scent of her was overpowering. 

“Elain?”

A muffled squeak caused Lucien to look down, where he found Elain panting against his chest, shoving him off her. “Please,” she breathed, unaware of how that one little word could fuel a thousand filthy fantasies. Lucien rolled to his side as Elain scrambled off the bed entirely, shaking out her hands as she took a breath. 

“Do you feel it?” he mumbled, grabbing a pillow to cuddle it against his chest. Maybe he’d feel better if she, too, knew about the bond.

“My cracked ribs?” she asked, rubbing the side of her body. “I think I’ll be feeling that for days.”

Lucien chucked. “You will if I have my way.”

“Big talk for a man that agreed never to touch me,” she replied without malice, sitting beside him on the bed. “Do you want to tell me what all this is about?”

“No.”

Elain sighed, murmured “fine,” and started to move away from the bed. Lucien reached for her, dragging her against him.

“I was in love, once,” he whispered into her hair, wondering if this was all a mistake. He was simply too drunk to care. “And she’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” Elain replied, because of course she would be. She let him hold her against him, though she twisted on her side so she was facing him. “How did she die?”

Lucien exhaled sharply. “She’s alive. She no longer wishes to see me.”

“Oh,” Elain breathed. “I’m still sorry.”

“It’s for the best,” he said, opening his eyes to look up at the ceiling. “It would never have worked between us.”

“Why not?”

Because I was holding out for a mating bond that was never coming.

“We’re just…two different people, I suppose.”

“Is it my fault?”

“No,” he said, because truthfully it wasn’t. “No, this has nothing to do with you. I’m just…” Angry at you, because there’s no one else to be angry with. 

They lapsed into silence. Lucien didn’t remember falling asleep, and when he woke, it was alone. Elain had been there—a pitcher of water sat on the nightstand beside a few slices of bread with jars of jam and jelly beside it. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting light against the shadows.

Lucien groaned.

“You’re an asshole,” he told himself, rolling onto his stomach so he could push himself up. He knew he was, knew he needed to try and treat Elain better.

But for the rest of the day, Lucien remained in bed.

Drowning in his self-loathing.

ELAIN:

“Hide me,” Elain whispered, grabbing Ayla by the shoulders and shoving her behind a pillar. Ayla squeaked, peering around Elain and Lucien strolled past a moment later, unaware they were hiding just out of view.

“Is the honeymoon over, then?” Ayla whispered once Lucien rounded the corner, unaware of the hiding women mere heartbeats away. Elain couldn’t face him, not after she’d been called to collect him by a nervous servant. She’d found him drunk, jacket half unbuttoned and droll sliding down his cheek pressed against the floor. She’d tried to rouse him, but Lucien was a solid mass of muscle and unmovable. Eris had done it for her, seething with silent fury.

Elain was simply nauseated. He’d gone to see his former love, who’d sent him away likely because it was dishonest and she was a lady of character. That didn’t make his rejection sting any less, even if she didn’t want him.

Everyone would know he’d been drunk over another woman and even if Eris and Arina squashed the ugliest of the rumors, they’d still circulate. He couldn’t go a full day without trying to embarrass her. 

“We just…don’t get along well,” Elain admitted, smoothing out her skirts once she was certain Lucien was gone. 

“No, I suppose not. I heard,” Ayla added, her face rich with sympathy. Elain swallowed the urge to scream. “I’m sorry. I think I might have killed my husband if he did that.”

“It’s tempting,” Elain admitted, allowing Ayla to walk her out of the palace and toward the apple orchard. Elain drank in the crisp air, catching a whiff of smoke in the air. Turning, she saw Tanwen in the distance, marked by the twin pair of axes he wore criss-crossed along his back. He was burning leaves—or something distinctly leaf shaped—causing curling tendrils of smoke to waft toward them. Ayla, too, had turned to look, those dark eyes narrowed just at the corners.

“Why does he dress like that?” Elain asked, desperate to shift the conversation away from herself. “Like he’s ready to march into battle.”

Ayla’s eyes never left Tanwen. “I don’t know. He’s never spoken to me.”

That seemed impossible. “Never?”

“The only Vanserra who won’t,” she said, finally turning back to look at Elain. Elain swore a wine colored flush crept up Ayla’s olive skin. “He rarely speaks to the ladies, though, so I take no offense.”

“He talks to me,” Elain said, wondering if he did so simply to irritate Lucien. Ayla glanced at Elain, an inch or so shorter than Elain’s already diminutive frame. If Ayla stood beside Tanwen, he would simply engulf her. It was had to picture what they might talk about, besides—Ayla was a purebred lady, with proper interests and from the little Elain had gathered, a keen mind. Tanwen, on the other hand, didn’t seem so inclined to play courtly games. Perhaps that was the point of the axes. Perhaps they served as a reminder that he solved his problem in a less elegant fashion.

“Well, you’ll have to introduce me then, won’t you?”

“What would you talk to him about?” Elain asked, not meaning to be unkind. She was merely curious why Ayla would care at all. If she was angling for a Vanserra, surely Connall suited her better? He was just as courtly as Eris but without the wife hanging from his arm. 

More color overtook Ayla’s features and oh. “Perhaps nothing at all.”

“I’ll introduce you,” Elain said quickly, linking her arm through Ayla’s before she could race off in embarrassment, “if only so you can see how terribly dull he is.”

Ayla offered a weak smile. “Thank you. It’s…thank you.”

Ayla left Elain not long after, begging some excuse which left Elain walking through the neatly lined trees by herself. Kicking fallen apples with her boot, she tried to push everything from her mind and focus only on her surroundings. Think of the positives, she urged herself. Autumn was beautiful in its own, half-dead way. She was making friends, which was nice, and her husband’s family didn’t seem to hate her.

Even Lucien— “There you are,” he said, interrupting her as she tried to come up with something good about him. That was a fools errand, she supposed. The male standing before her looked like a prince, minus the dark bags under his eyes. Every inch of him was immaculate otherwise, which annoyed her. If only he was less handsome, she lamented. Of his brothers, he was easily the loveliest, which made hating him all the more difficult. He was appealing to look at. 

In an obnoxious sort of way. 

“Were you looking for me?”

“Yes,” Lucien said, taking a breath. It was clear he prepared a speech which wasn’t necessary. Elain had half forgotten—or, she wanted to anyway. No need for him to bring it all back up. “About last night—”

“This isn’t necessary,” Elain began, desperate to avoid this. She didn’t want to be confronted, once again, by the knowledge that he did not want her. It was bad enough they were together for an eternity, their marriage inked well before Elain had been old enough to have a say. To know he would always be drinking and thinking of another woman was far worse. 

“It is necessary because my brothers inform me you are the spectacle of the morning's gossip. It wasn’t my intention,” Lucien told her, face paling ever so slightly. “I ah…I have a gift—”

“I don’t want your pity gifts, Lucien,” she snapped, rounding on him so quickly that he stumbled back a step. “What I want is for you to get yourself together. You aren’t the only one who wasn’t consulted when this marriage was arranged and yet you act like I somehow conspired to get you. As if you’re some kind of catch. I am doing my best to make a difficult circumstance tolerable while you…you throw all my work in my face. You may as well declare to all of court that you hate me and get it over with.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Lucien said, looking as if he meant it. Not that it meant much, because the damage had already been done. Still, his words stopped her in her tracks. Of all the things she’d expected to hear, an apology was at the bottom of the list. 

“What?”

“I said I’m sorry,” he replied with just a little edge to his voice. It was a warning not to push things too far, and if Elain hadn’t been so tired, she might have called his bluff. “I was an ass, okay?

I’m sorry. Now, can I give you my gift?”

“Fine. Show me this gift of yours,” Elain said, certain a little trinket couldn’t undo the gossip that would trail after her for weeks. 

“This way,” Lucien mumbled, beckoning for her to follow. Elain stayed one pace behind, arms wrapped around the blue fabric of her dress. How long would he make her wear the necklace, she wondered? A few days? Just long enough for everyone to know he was appropriately apologetic?

“Here,” Lucien said, standing outside the edges of an iron gate covered in ivy. “No one has used this in…since I can remember.”

Elain cringed at the creaking hinges before pausing to see what Lucien had brought her to. It had been a garden, once, before decay took over. The once lovely path was made of crumbling, weed eaten stone and gnarled trees swayed in the breeze, ghosts of their once former beauty.

A little earthen pot held a bloom of yellow and red marigolds, peering up at Elain cheerfully.

“Your sisters told me you like to garden,” Lucien said, drawing a small box from somewhere on his person. “They said you do it by hand.”

Elain took the little box, bound in a pink ribbon, to find enchanted gloves. “To protect your hands,” Lucien said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with clear embarrassment. “I thought…” Elain hated the thoughtfulness he’d displayed. How a few days of knowing her, alongside scant pieces of information likely hurled at him between insults, had allowed him to put together the perfect gift. “Thank you,” she said, tucking the gloves into her pocket. Lucien stared for another moment, as though trying to come up with something to say.

“Well, I…should we head back, then?”

Elain allowed Lucien to walk her back, taking the most conspicuous path so everyone would see his hand laid atop of hers resting in the crook of his elbow. The ladies nodded approvingly—including his own mother, who Elain suspected had put him up to the whole thing—while the males watched, their expressions guarded. Perhaps they understood how Lucien felt. Perhaps they simply cared less about these sort of things. 

Elain knew, as she made her way back to their shared bedroom alone, that the news of his gift would drown out his humiliating behavior. He was clever—calculated. A Vanserra, she supposed. Elain stomped into their bedroom, opened the top drawer, and flung the gloves inside.

She’d take the cut up hands over absolving him. Let him see her cracked nails and the dirt caked in the pads of her fingers and let him see she wasn’t some delicate flower he could trample all over.

Nature was fierce, and so was Elain.

LUCIEN:

His wife would be the death of him.

“Elain!” Lucien shouted across the lawn, for all the good it did. He’d simply alerted her, Lady Ayla, and Arina of his presence, which sent the three of them hiking up their skirts and shrieking with laughter as they disappeared over another hill. Lucien was tempted to leave them to the brewing storm and let them come inside, bone chilled and soaked. 

He had also sworn to his mother to be a better husband when she’d come looking for him and boxed him around the ears, declaring she’d raised him better. No one had that conversation with Elain, who was determined to punish him for the humiliation.

She cavorted with Tanwen, letting him teach her to throw axes at trees. She danced with Connall at private parties he wasn’t invited to, and let Eris explain the complicated politics of Autumn when she was bored. And when she wasn’t with her brothers, she ruled court as one of the more fashionable ladies all the others hoped to be like. They copied her hair styles, wore their dresses like her, styled themselves as she did.

And Elain paid him no mind at all unless absolutely forced to. She was in bed most evenings before Lucien, back turned to him and breathing steady. Elain was making a point—he’d humiliated her in service to another female, so she’d treat him the same way. And it irked him. He was trying, even if it was coerced but clearly no one was demanding she treat him well.

“Elain!” he yelled again, voice drowned out by the sound of rumbling thunder. She was still running, unconcerned with the danger. Only Ayla had begun to hang back, the only one of the three who’d grown up in Autumn. She knew how quickly a lightning storm could come and how dangerous they became. 

Please turn around, he prayed softly, not wanting to get caught in the frigid rain. Behind him, Tanwen and Connall followed, arms crossed over their chests. No one wanted to go and get Eris—but they would, if they had to. Better Eris’s wrath than Berons, and he’d be irate if he learned Lucien couldn’t control his wife. 

Ayla yelled something none of them could hear, hair whipping wildly around her face as she tried desperately to convince Arina and Elain to come back. Arina would never be used to the kind of storms they got here—Lucien heard when it rained in Day, the winds were so brutal they could take the roof off a building. And for Elain, the water was warm, nourishing.

Everything in Autumn was volatile. There were no new beginnings, no rebirths—it was all death and ruin, retribution for an unforgiving world. There was nothing Autumn liked more than to swallow something beautiful whole.

And Elain, Ayla, and Arina were exceptionally beautiful. 

Lucien took a step toward Elain, thinking he’d haul her over his shoulders if he had to, reputation be damned. Maybe she’d learn to listen if he embarrassed her a little more. It wasn’t as if she was receptive to his gifts. When he’d seen her torn up hands, Lucien had thought perhaps the gloves hadn’t worked and gifted her a second, enchanted pair. 

He’d found both tossed in the top drawer of their shared wardrobe, half buried under her things. Lucien had changed tacts after that, bringing her a pair of pearl earrings to join the gloves. She thanked him with a pretty smile and never wore them which grated on his nerves. How long did she mean to punish him, anyway. 

Elain turned just as the skies opened up overhead. Lucien heard Connall swear loudly, stomping past him to demand the females return. Not that it mattered. Shrieking, all three began to run back toward the Forest House as Lucien watched, hair plastered to his face. Elain was quicker than he would have guessed, making her way toward him with eyes he couldn’t read.

Lightning streaked from the sky, illuminating the gray world a violet purple. It missed Elain by mere inches, though Ayla wasn’t as lucky. Elain and Arina screamed as the third female crumpled to the ground, causing them both to turn for her.

Panic flooded Lucien, his thoughts tinged red. They didn’t like each other—and she was still his mate. She was in danger. Instinct overrode all other thoughts as Lucien raced toward her, catching Elain just as she reached Ayla. 

“She—”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he snarled in her ear, pulling her against his body. Connall and Tanwen were just behind, hovering over Ayla with nervous hands. They weren’t healers—if they picked her up, would they hurt her?

Lightning streaked again, this time closer to Arina than anyone felt comfortable with. Eris was going to lose his temper when he learned of this. Connall yanked Arina by the arm as Tanwen slid his hands beneath Ayla and lifted her lifeless body into the hair. They moved quickly, battling the wind and rain for the warmth of the Forest House.

“This is my fault,” Elain said through chattering teeth as Tanwen stalked off, not bothering to look back. “I said—I told her to keep running even when she wanted to turn back.”

Lucien almost snapped at her, agreeing that yes, she’d been a pretty little fool. It was the tears, mingling with the rain water on her cheeks, that stopped him from saying so. Elain would punish herself without his help.

“Come on,” he said, guiding her by the elbow. “You’ll catch your death.”

In his mind, every time Lucien blinked he saw the scene unfold differently. Saw the lightning streak toward Elain while he stood too far away, helpless to get to her in time. His heart raced at the image. 

“She’s dead—”

“She’s not dead,” Lucien interrupted, heart in his throat. “It struck the ground, not her. She’ll be okay.”

“She looked dead,” Elain lamented as Lucien all but shoved her in their shared room. “She looked—”

“She’s in shock,” Lucien said, unsure if that was true or not. “Tanwen will take her to a healer, she’ll be fine.”

“This wasn’t how they were supposed to meet,” she mumbled, lips blue from the cold. Lucien all but dragged her into their bedroom, throwing flames at the fireplace to bring it roaring to life. Would she let him undress her? Did he even want to undress her? Lucien thought better than to try his luck and instead turned his back, making a show of offering her privacy. Lucien’s fingers itched with the urge, body taut with interest as the rustling sounds of wet clothes slapped to the floor. He could smell her stronger—she reeked of fear, the scent so cloying it helped clear his senses. 

Lucien didn’t move, even when he caught a glimpse of fair skin from the corner of his eye. Look at her, just look—and touch and taste and—

The mating bond would be the death of him. If he didn’t get control of himself, she’d smell his desire which would only make things worse between them. Forcing air into his lungs, Lucien counted slowly as Elain dressed, turning only when she gave the word. Her hair was still limp, the ends dripping as she stood in front of the fire, but she was clothed again and Lucien could relax. 

“What did you say?” he asked, some of the fog clearing from his mind. He’d forgotten she’d spoken to him.

“I promised Ayla I would introduce her to your brother,” Elain said, chewing her bottom lip with worry. “I meant to do so at a dance, not…”

“Tanwen doesn’t dance,” Lucien said, bewildered. Ayla had been marked for Eris back when she’d first come of age and likely would have been married to him by now had Eris not accidentally met Arina and messed everything up. Tanwen could not have been more different from Eris. He’d gotten the same education, but Tanwen liked blood covered blades and showing his teeth, not fine clothes and sharp words. 

Elain was simply mistaken, he decided. She didn’t know these people the way he did, had misinterpreted and was going to create an embarrassing—yet hilarious—moment between his older brother and a lady at court. 

“Here,” Lucien said, pulling the blanket from the bed and draping it around Elain’s still trembling shoulders. “You’re freezing.”

Elain said nothing, though she wrapped the corners around her neck as she stared into the fire. “I’m trying,” she murmured after a moment while Lucien hesitated, unsure if he should stay or go. 

He sighed. “I know you are.”

He wanted to say that he was trying, too, in his own way. Even if it was bad, or didn’t seem like he was at all.

Lucien was trying.

[halfbloodgf]

Can we talk about the fact that Severus Snape left everyone, both the characters and the readers, like this: 🤡🤡

I mean, no one knew wtf was going on with him. One moment u think he's bad, the next u think he's good. And then u think he's the villain again. But then he gives his memories to Harry and we all realize that he was the fucking hero all along.

In hp1, we think it's Snape who was trying to steal the philosopher's stone, or who tried to knock Harry off his broom. But then comes the end, and we find out that he stopped Harry from falling (saved his life) and was protecting the stone...🤡

We still hated him in hp 2 and 3...

In hp4 Harry suspects that Snape had the Dark Mark, and ends up discovering that he did. There's even the scene that Harry sees: Igor Karkaroff accuses Snape in court in front of the Wizengamot, saying he was a Death Eater, and we're all like😯😃 (finally know the truth!!). But then Dumbledore defends him😐🧍🏻‍♀️, and no one, not Karkaroff, not Harry, not us readers, understand anything. We don't know whether to trust him or not. So, again...🤡

In hp5 everything is confusing with him. We don't know if he wants to help Harry (occlumency lessons) or not. He calls Voldemort "Dark Lord" (only Death Eaters do), we see his worst memory, which, again, leaves us bewildered and not knowing what the hell to think of him now. Harry himself doubts that his father was a good person, even wondering if James didn't force Lily to marry him, and empathizes with Snape. Then the whole thing with the prophecies, and Harry trying to warn Snape about Sirius and his supposed kidnapping. The Order arrives to save Harry and his friends, which suggests that Snape warned them.

But along comes hp and the Half-Blood Prince, Snape appears to be helping Draco Malfoy with what the Lord entrusted him with —The scene where Bellatrix accuses him, tells him that she doesn't trust him, and then she is surprised:

In the books:

[...]Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?”

She hesitated. “I know he believes you, but…”

“You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?”

[...]

“And through all this we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never suspected you?” asked Bellatrix. “He has no idea of your true allegiance, he trusts you implicitly still?”

“I have played my part well,” said Snape.

In the movies:

The line where he says “Dumbledore is a great wizard”, Snape is actually being smug and subtly saying he’s such a good actor (I mean, come on, the man deserves a fucking Oscar), he’s managed to deceive Voldemort so well that he has revealed his grand plan to him. He practically seems to be laughing at the double meaning of his own words, mocking and lying to the black sister's faces like the fucking boss he is. The way he's literally drinking a glass of wine while laughing at the Dark Lord. The whole scene is just excellent.

So at the end of hp6, Snape reveals to us that he was the half-blood prince for whom the fucking book is named, ends up murdering none other than ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, and we all learn that all this time his true loyalties were with the dark side...🤡

Oh no, wait! Hp7 arrives, Voldemort kills Snape :0 (Yes!), gives his memories to Harry, and Harry sees his memories and... (NOO😦😨😰😭💔💀). We found out he wasn't the bad guy. That, in fact, he was IN LOVE WITH HARRY'S MOM —"always" still hurts :')— That all this time he was our ally...🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

He practically played with all of us, with LORD VOLDEMORT, the Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix, Harry... well, WITH EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WIZARDING WORLD. And he did it as if he were:

Harry fucking Potter named one of his sons after him, which must have made a lot of people roll in their graves (James and Sirius out of anger, Snape out of laughter).

This mf literally woke up one day and said: "okay, here begins my reputation era bitches.😎 Let's leave a few of them looking like🤡🤡"

PD: Sorry if something is written wrong, english is not my language.

[shirkers2018dirsanditan]

this movie could be quite good and thought-provoking...or it could be very, very bad and ridiculously excessive. i guess we’ll see!

[detectiveconnor]

to recap on my connor's history,

he was assaulted (not his choice),

he was afraid she might have come back when the garden finally returned and invited someone into his head to look for her because he could not trust his own ability to search (barely his choice),

when he is in the zen garden these days he is always wearing the Cyberlife uniform and he cannot change out of it, nor deliberately change the garden itself (not his choice),

he had to tell someone through necessity (this is markus, he told markus, but i can't find the post and i've done so much looking for the post) (not his choice),

footage of it was released publicly and while new jericho did its best to mitigate it, that footage is still out there if anyone interested wants to go and find it (not his choice),

he had to explain it at length to new jericho's security team as they picked him apart to see if he was a threat (not his choice),

in a separate matter, he mentioned a partner when there was a gun to his head which the media took and ran with because it was fun to fill the news with connor dating rather than a human threatening to kill him because he existed (barely his choice)

and then came out to the media because they were harassing his female friends who did not deserve to be harassed about who they chose to spend time with (barely his choice) --

And people think choice is not important to Connor? You think he does not value his privacy and the sanctity of his decisions when it comes to saying yes or no? he has rarely if ever had the opportunity to share anything Big about himself explicitly on purpose. People do not ask. When and if they do, he is not ready, or it isn't phrased JUST so. It is not that he doesn't want to be visible in all of these ways, for some of the people he loves (for at least one person: anything), it is that he hasn't felt like they want to know how he would have shared it if it hadn't been Taken and Dug and Carved out of him. He is very used to being Taken and Dug and Carved from.

ask him how he would have shared it if it hadn't been taken from him. Give him ground to make it his own. It doesn't even really feel like his.

he values his privacy. he values sharing when he wants to share. he values not being Taken from and oh, he has been taken from, and he is steady enough about it you'd rarely notice. but he is sometimes very tired of being taken from. he is sometimes very tired of feeling carved-out-of. he is Connor Connor Connor all the way through, stop giving him back to Cyberlife, stop grabbing parts of him, stop twisting pieces. (he will Defend his own space when he thinks there is reason to defend it. he Hates Hates that he has so often, so often, not seen a good reason to keep a story to himself, he Hates that being taken from seems so often to be the only logical way to move forward.) (Connor hates feeling autopsied.) (Partly because he's still alive. All else aside, he's still alive. Stop slicing. Stop Taking answers from him. ask for them, god damn --)

[faerociousbeast]

i think im like actually into lawyers

[bucks-babe]

Change My Ways For You

Pairing: College!Fuckboy!Bucky x college!fem!reader

Summary: One of the only girls in school that didn’t want Bucky Barnes was somehow the one he fell in love with

Warnings: Smut, fluff, reader doesn’t take any of Bucky’s shit, himbo!Bucky, Bucky being a fuckboy,a bit of forced proximity, small part where Bucky is fucking someone else (ew), pinning, Bucky proving himself to be a sweet boy, non consentual kissing, Bucky being tooth rottingly sweet, Bucky calling reader sweets sweetheart and sweetcheeks, Steve is a dick (sorry not sorry), PROTECTED p in v (they are responsible in this one), fingering, fluffy smut, dirty talk, cockwarming?, so much praise, talk about STDs, delayed aftercare, talk about no aftercare, Bucky learns about aftercare so all is good

Word Count: 14.6k This is a long one

A/N: Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading and helping with the direction; however, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. This fic is the most adorable and full of emotions. The angst, the fluff, the feelings and especially Bucky. The way they act around one another — it’s absolutely great and definitely a read worth it!

“I have to admit, some of your grades in this class are less than I expected. Some of you have excelled in my class, but there are quite a few students to which their performance, to put it nicely, has been subpar.” A few students in the room look around, trying to see who looks guilty of having shit grades. You couldn’t care less; you know your grades are great so it’s not your problem if someone else is failing. 

All you want to do is get out of class and go back to your dorm to sleep, having stayed up way too late to finish a research paper for a different class. Your professor walks back over to his desk and leans back on it, sighing and taking off his glasses to wipe them on his sweater. 

“Now, while I understand that this course is not for the faint of heart, I still expect all of you to put in effort, and based on these,” he holds up the essays that were due last week, “I can tell that some of you just don’t care. Not even mentioning those of you who didn’t turn in your paper.”

You hear a scoff a few rows behind you and you know it’s Bucky Barnes without having to turn your head. He is the resident fuckboy, not caring about school or his education, just going to parties and fucking every living thing in sight. Sometimes you think that the only reason he is even in college is to have the “college experience” of “being free and having a bit of fun.” 

He’s never turned your head, rather just been a thorn in your side three times a week when you go to class, always joking with his friends next to him or talking about his latest trist. You don’t want to hear about how loud a random girl screamed when she came on his cock. You were here to get your degree and finally move out of this shitty town you were stuck in.

Honestly, you doubt that Bucky was even giving anyone orgasms. In your experience, men who brag about how good they were in bed were nothing but a disappointment, giving you about 30 seconds of mediocre sex until they came inside a condom and rolled over only to ask you, “did you cum?” The answer was always no. You didn’t have the patience to stroke any man’s ego when they couldn’t even make you wet. 

Bucky did nothing but make you roll your eyes, annoyed by the absolute gall of himself. “Now, because I don’t want my class average to go down because of a few dumbasses, I have sent some of you an email to meet me in my office after hours in which I will pair you up with another student in hopes that it will give you a kick in the ass since I cannot be bothered to spend more time teaching you.” You like your professor, you really do. He was one of the chillest professors you’ve had, but a twinge of fear goes through you. You fucking hope that he doesn’t pick you to help another student, especially Bucky.

You hang on to the sliver of hope that he won’t pick you. He knows that you’re busy, right? Between work and school you don’t have any time to tutor anyone. The topic stays on your mind long after you leave class, delaying looking at your email just in case he picked you to help another student. 

As the hours went by, however, you knew that you had to check it. You cursed when your laptop had battery; if it didn’t, it would have given you an excuse to not show up if you were picked. Nonetheless, you opened your school email, only to find out that you had been picked and you needed to go down to your professors office in a half hour.

Getting dressed, you had the most intense scowl on your face. This was the last thing you needed added onto your plate. You only hoped that he would pair you up with someone who didn’t need that much help, but you were proven wrong when you walked in only to find Bucky sitting down looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Take a seat, please.” You huff and sit down, moving your body away from Bucky as much as you could. You didn’t really feel comfortable around him. He’s never done anything to you per say, but you’ve seen his shameless flirting and it makes you uneasy and never want to be on the receiving end of it.

You don’t pay attention to anything your professor says, something about helping Bucky over the next few months until he’s passing or fails out of the course. You’re too lost in thought to care. On top of everything you have going on, now you have to help the one person you can’t stand.

Your professor dismisses the both of you with instructions to meet at least twice a week to study together. Bucky walks out before you and you assume that he has sprinted away to go to another party given that it was late afternoon, but you find him right outside the door. 

“So, sweetcheeks, I guess you’re gonna be seeing a lot of me now.” His eyes run up and down your body, like this was the first time he’s seen you. It makes you shift and wrap your arms around your middle, trying to soothe yourself. Bucky clearly takes this the wrong way and thinks that you like his hungry eyes and steps closer to you. “How about I give you my number and we can meet up, ya know, to study? Or if you ever need something, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

You don’t want to give him your phone, thinking about where his hands have been. Ever since his step closer to you, you can smell the scent of sex on him. If you look closer at his beard you can see the glisten on it, most likely from some girl he ate out right before he came to the meeting. 

“Just tell me your number, James so we can get this over with. I don’t want to help you and you don’t want my help. Clearly you don’t give a shit about this class and you only want to get in my pants.” He raises his eyebrows at your tone, a little shocked that you spoke to him like that. Before he opens his mouth you continue, “I mean, look at you. You’re flirting with me when I can fucking see that someone’s pussy was on your face, and that makes you think that I want to have sex with you?”

He opens his mouth one more time but you aren’t finished, finally able to snap at him for all the times he’s pissed you off. “I’m not going to be one of the girls you add to your roster so you can get that idea out of your head right now. The only time I am going to interact with you is when I have to, okay? Now give me your number so I can go back to my dorm and fucking sleep.”

Bucky is shocked, not having anyone talk to him like that. It pisses him off that you rejected him. Everyone wanted a piece of him, but he has time to change your mind. He can’t lie, your sass was making his pants tighter, but he relents and gives you his number before you walk away while he watches your ass, palming his dick through his pants. 

He needs to relieve the pressure in his groin and he’s sure as hell you’re not going to help him and his hand is nowhere near good as a pussy, so he goes out to Steve’s party, knowing that he can get a girl in minutes.

“Fuck, yeah baby, that pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock. Shit, love that ass too, you gonna let me fuck it? Yeah, I bet you fucking would too.” Bucky doesn’t know how the two of them ended up in the bathroom, fucking each other’s brains out, but he’s not complaining. When she offered to get on her knees and suck his cock he pulled her into the nearest room, cumming on her face before pushing her into the mirror, smearing her makeup and his cum all over the mirror.

The slam of his hips was brutal, surely going to leave bruises on her hips but he didn’t care, as long as she wasn’t complaining, he would do whatever he wanted with her, fucking her like she was a slut. “Fuck, baby, gonna make me fucking cum. Pussy is so fucking tight.” He lets a groan out, close to cumming. 

 Usually he didn’t make much noise during sex other than dirty talk, only breathing heavily and groaning when he was about to cum, but he was always composed. Sex felt great, but he never felt the need to moan. He never understood why men would moan like a slut just over some pussy, and he doubted that he would ever embarrass himself like that during sex.

“Love the way that ass bounces, so fucking hot.” This was the way Bucky fucked - from behind watching the girl’s ass jiggle. He wasn’t one to fuck any other way. Bucky didn’t give a shit to watch her face or look into her eyes, he just wanted to cum as fast as possible so he could move on with the rest of his day. He thought missionary was quite possibly the most boring position ever created, not like he ever made it to a bed anyway.

“Shit, gonna take my cum, bitch? Yeah, you fucking are, just a little fucking cumdump for me, letting me fuck you in a dirty bathroom, too horny for my fat cock.” He was babbling, just wanting to cum so he could go back out to the party and have another drink, maybe even pick another girl up for later.

Bucky lets out a low groan, filling up the condom with his cum. Once his orgasm is finished, he pulls out, taking the rubber off and throwing it away. Pulling his pants back up, the girl turns around, clearly affronted. “I didn’t even cum, baby.” Her voice was high and annoying, making Bucky roll his eyes. 

“Sorry, but your pussy made me bust early.” He chuckles knowing damn well that it was a lie. He just couldn’t be bothered to make her cum. Why would he put in the extra work to make her cum when he was just having fun? If she wanted to cum so bad she could have handled it herself. He wasn’t stopping her from using her own hands. Bucky either ate a girl out until she came to get her nice and wet if he was feeling generous that day or left her to her own devices while he took his own pleasure from her body.

She blushes, “oh, thanks, that’s sweet of you.” Bucky just wants to get the fuck back to the party and she’s talking too fucking much. “Maybe we can do this again.”

He can hear how hopeful she is and he felt just a little bit bad so he decided to humor her. “Sure, Sherry, whenever I’m free. You know college life and all, working hard in classes every day. Gotta keep up that 4.0 GPA.” As he heads for the door, he hears her squeak out, It’s Sally!

The next day is when you’re supposed to meet Bucky in the library to study, but it’s been a half hour and he still hasn’t shown. You decide to study what you need to. If Bucky wanted to fail you weren’t going to go out of your way to help him. You weren’t his mother; he was a grown man and he was responsible for himself. 

Nearly an hour later, Bucky stumbles in, clearly reaping the effects of the alcohol binge he must have been on the night before. It was no wonder  why he was failing his classes. When he sees you, a smile graces his lips, trying to make you forget that he was more than fashionably late. “Heeyyyy, sweetcheeks. You been waitin’ on me long?” The closer he gets the more you can smell the musk of sex and alcohol.

“James, are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” You know he is and you fight the urge to turn your nose up at the offensive smell coming off him.

“Huh? Oh, shit, I am. Well would ya’ look at that?” He laughs before plopping down in the seat next to you, his smell even worse than before. He tries to give you what you assume is a sexy look, but he just looks like he just awoke out of a coma. “How about you help me change them then, sweetcheeks? Maybe even give me a good scrub, make sure I’m real clean? Oh, and sweets, call me Bucky since we’re gonna get real close.”

There is no way that he is trying to have sex with you when his stink is filling up the entire section of the library. Anger bubbles up in your chest. You were here to help him and he is taking this whole thing like a joke. “I don’t have time for this, James. Unlike you, I actually care about my grades and don’t think with what’s in my pants.”

As you go to walk away, Bucky tries to grab your wrist, wanting to mess with you some more, but his motor skills haven’t come back yet and he was too slow. “C’mon, sweetheart, I was just messin’ with ya’, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Bucky holds his tongue about wanting to sniff your panties, not wanting to antagonize you further, but you just keep storming away and soon enough you’re out of Bucky’s sight.

Bucky huffs, annoyed that you walked away from him. Not because he actually wanted to talk to you, no of course not, it’s because no one has ever walked away from him. He walks away from girls after he fucked them, not the other way around. Grabbing his shirt, he lifts it up to smell it, turning his head away when the stench hits him. “Damn, no wonder she fucking sprinted away from you, Barnes.” Bucky stands up, almost falling over when gets lightheaded, the effect of drinking all night with no food catching up to him.

He slowly makes his way back to his dorm to shower and get out of his grimy clothes, feeling it stick to his skin in the worst way possible. He realizes that he only gave you his number and you didn’t give him yours so he has no way of texting you to see when your next session is. Maybe he would have made it on time if you texted him. It wasn’t his fault he was late. Honestly, you should have reminded him since you are supposed to be helping him.

The next day Bucky sees you in class and luckily he doesn’t reek this time. Instead of sitting in his usual seat, he goes down a few rows and plops down next to you. “So, sweetheart, I don’t mean to question your teaching methods, but seems to me like you’re a pretty lackluster teacher, runnin’ out on me like that.” You slowly turn your head, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man. How dare he say anything about you when he showed an hour  late and proceeded to ogle you like a piece of meat?

“Excuse me? You wanna say that again, James? Because I don’t think I heard you right, because you better not have just said that I’m the problem.”

“I was just teasin’ ya, sweets. But if this is gonna work ya gotta help me a little bit. I mean, you’re the teacher and all.” You wanted to slap that smug smirk right off of his face.

“If this is going to work, James, then you need to try. I’m not going to pull my weight and yours so get that idea out of your head right now. I’ll be in the library at 4:30. If you’re so much as a minute late, I’ll tell the professor to get someone else to deal with you.” With that you got up and changed your seat, not wanting to be around him for another second. 

Bucky felt his pants tighten again. He really needs to do something about your attitude, like fuck it out of you. It wasn’t a lie that he found you attractive and the thought of bending you over your desk and watching your ass bounce made his cock even harder. Bucky was contemplating asking the girl next to him for a handjob but the thought of her hands around his cock didn’t seem as good as what he thought your hands would feel like.

So instead of that, Bucky moved his seat to the back of the room so he could jerk off. A man has needs after all and Bucky has never had to worry about someone taking care of his boners until now.

Bucky decides not to push his luck and he actually shows up to the library on time, sans all of his books, but at least he’s there. He sees you in the corner, hunched over your laptop, typing away. You look cute too, with your tongue slightly passed your lips in concentration and eyebrows pulled together. Reading glasses perched on your nose. His sweetheart was working hard. What the fuck, Barnes? Bucky is taken aback by his own thoughts. He has never looked at a girl like that, when none of his thoughts are about how many different ways he could fuck them.

You roll your eyes when you see that Bucky didn’t bring anything with him, just the air of arrogance that seems to follow him wherever he goes. “Would ya’ look at the time, sweets? I’m early. See I happen to take my education very seriously.” You swear, if you roll your eyes anymore because of this man, they’re going to be stuck in the back of your skull. 

“Yeah, yeah. What did the professor say you needed to work on?” You want to get straight to business. The faster you get this done the faster you can leave.

“Uh, well. I don’t exactly know what.” He tries to smile to soften the blow of his incompetence as he sits next to you, but you are almost vibrating in anger at how useless he is.

Huffing, you angrily click at your laptop, going to check the email your professor gave you, knowing that Bucky couldn’t be trusted to remember. “James, please tell me how your grade is a 13% and you’re still in college?” You had no idea that someone could have a grade that low and not be kicked out of the entire course.

“What! No way, let me see that.” You slide the laptop over to him, showing the proof of his negligence. “Well, damn, we have a lotta work to do then, sweetcheeks.” You ignore his comment and pull up his most recent essay, surprised that he turned it in at all, but not shocked to see how terribly he did.

“James, what did you even think this essay was about?”

“Uh, nature and care?” Your mouth drops open and you just stare at him for a minute, making him squirm under your gaze.

“James, this was an essay on Frankenstein, and you were supposed to analyze the difference between nature versus nurture. You wrote about the fucking trees!”

Bucky clearly didn’t understand the problem with his essay. “Yeah, that’s nature!”

“No, James. Nature as in how you are, like how you were born, not how you were raised. You were supposed to compare how Victor was nurtured all his life but was full of hate and spite, but the creature never had any care but he was benevolent until everyone who encountered him abhorred him!”

You were talking too fast and Bucky didn’t understand a word of what you said. You were using words that he had never heard of before. “So, you can fix it, right, sweets?” That same sly smile was on his lips. The look on your face was enough to make him backtrack. “Uh, so we can fix this right? You know, since we’re a team now.”

The resting bitch face you gave him had him shifting his eyes around the library, trying to avoid it. As soon as he did, however, he regretted his decision when his party hook up locked eyes with him. His eyes immediately went to your laptop, typing random words onto the document you pulled up, trying to seem busy.

“So, sweetcheeks, I’m picking up what you’re putting down. So Victor is a bitch and Frankenstein is cool.” The sound of your voice correcting him by calling the creature Frankenstein is drowned out by the shrill voice of his past trist.

“Hey, baby, haven’t seen you since that party. See you're working hard, keeping up that 4.0 I see.��� She lets out a giggle and strokes his bicep. You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything about his supposed GPA. You’re taking great pleasure in watching Bucky squirm, clearly not wanting anything to do with her now that he’s gotten his rocks off. 

“And who is this? I bet my smart baby is helping her study, right? That’s so sweet of you to help out, really. Not everyone would want to help the ugly girl.” You wheeled your head back, about to bite her head off for daring to say shit about your looks when the foundation on her face was three shades lighter than her chest that was almost spilling out of her way too small top. Now you were never one to judge, but if someone comes for your looks, you come right back at them.

Before you got the chance to tear her a new one, Bucky interjected. “Ya’ know me, always helping out where I can, even those less fortunate than me.” His eyes were glued to her chest and you doubted that he even knew what she said to begin with. “Listen, Sandy, how about we catch up after I’m done and I can help you out too?”

The “sexy” look on her face dropped. “My name’s Sally, nevermind, you can have the ugly bitch!” Bucky cringes slightly at getting her name wrong again; he was never good with those. You don’t know why you were involved with their lovers quarrel, but a twinge of hurt sprouts in your heart. You didn’t even do anything to her and she had to come at you for your looks, and Bucky didn’t say a fucking word.

Grabbing your things, you pack them with more force than necessary, but you don’t give a fuck. “Sweetheart, where are ya’ going? Don’t listen to her, she’s just a bit jealous that I’m with ya’.”

How does he not see what he did wrong? You just glare at him before turning on your heels and walking away. There is no way that you’re going to spend anymore time or energy on him when he isn’t going to try. If it was anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t be so hurt, but for just one second you thought that Bucky wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be.

“Sweets, c’mon, we still have that essay to write.” Was this man really following you down the hall? Yes, yes he was. 

You spin around, eyes ablaze just to walk back up to him and push his chest. “You have an essay to write because I. Am. Done. You don’t give a fuck about this and I refuse to put myself through this for nothing.”

“What did I even do?” Now you were shaking with anger.

“What did you do? You haven’t tried at all, showing up late, trying to get me to fuck you, and worst of all, you let someone talk about me like that right in front of you and didn’t say a fucking word. You know, for a second there I thought you might be a nice guy, but you proved me the fuck wrong.”

Bucky had the nerve to look angry at what you said. Pushing you against the wall, he stares into your eyes. “Sweets, you’re really starting to piss me off. I’m fucking trying and it’s not good enough for ya’. I ought to fuck that attitude right outta ya’.” His eyes drop down to your lips and you’re too stunned to speak, not expecting him to push you up against a wall. 

He was starting to scare you, getting into your space like this, but before you could tell him to back off his lips smashed against yours. It was rough and fast. Your lips stayed still but your eyes were wide open, shocked at what he was doing. You tried to push his chest, but he only got closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, one hand dropping to your ass.

You struggled to free one of your hands, but as soon as you did you slapped Bucky in the face as hard as you could given your angle. He pulls back, shock on his face at the fact that you hit him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing! What made you think that I wanted to kiss you, asshole!” You try to wipe your lips, wanting to get the memory of his lips against yours off.

Bucky just stood there, not knowing what to say. He didn’t know what came over him. You shook your head and practically ran away to your dorm so you could shower and wash his touch off of you. The next day you were glad you didn’t have class with Bucky, but the remains of his kiss were still lingering. You didn’t even want to help him to begin with and this is how it ends up? With him forcing you to kiss him.

You didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, just wanting to forget the whole thing. But you couldn’t avoid Bucky for long since you did have to share a class together. He tried to come up to you, but you saw it out of the corner of your eye and switched seats before he could reach you. The entire hour and a half lecture was spent making sure Bucky wasn’t making his way any closer to you.

Instead of rushing out when class was over, you made your way down to your professors desk. “Professor, could I talk to you in your office for a minute? It’s important.” He might be relaxed most of the time, but your professor always made sure everyone in his class felt like they could talk to him if needed. 

Nodding his head, he leads you to his office and closes the door behind you, but not before you catch a glimpse of Bucky looking like a kicked puppy. He knew what you were about to talk about in that office, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Have a seat and tell me what’s going on. You’ve seemed off the past couple of lessons and I’m starting to get worried.”

You gulped, not knowing why it was so hard to say that you don’t want to tutor Bucky anymore. You didn’t want to let your professor down. Maybe it was because he reminded you of a father that you never had, but you just wanted to make him proud, showing him that you were capable of what he entrusted to you. He was looking at you, waiting to listen.

“Um, well, I have been distracted, but I think that it would be best for James to-” You can’t finish the rest of your sentence when you look at your professor. He trusted you to help Bucky and you can’t throw his trust away. “I think it would be best for James to have a more structured plan and I wanted to discuss that with you.”

The pride in his eyes was undeniable and you forgot about all the shit Bucky has put you through over the last few days. “Of course, what did you have in mind?” When you get out of his office, Bucky is still waiting, most likely missing the next party one of his friends is having.

You don’t even look at him, only grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him with you all the way down to the library. “Sweets, listen, I didn’t mean to make ya’ feel-” Turning around, you cut him off and he stumbles to a stop.

“No, I don’t want to hear it, James. You listen to me. We will meet in this library every other day at this exact time and you will keep your mouth shut and work. Do you hear me?” Bucky feels his pants tighten, but doesn’t say a word about it, slightly scared to talk back to you. 

He just nods his head, finally noticing how beautiful you were. How your eyes held so much emotion in them, even when you didn't let it show on your face. Or how your lips form a small frown, the sides pulling down giving you an adorable pout. The small belmishes on your face, the tiny imperfections, created the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“A nod is not an answer, James. Use your words.” Bucky swears that he could have cum in his pants at that exact moment. No woman has ever been so dominant with him in or out of the bedroom. 

He gulps before finding his voice again, hoarse but still working. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t let ya’ down again. I swear.” You stare into his eyes for a few seconds longer, determining if you believed him or not, giving Bucky more time to appreciate every part of your face he didn’t notice before.

You let go of his shirt and keep walking and Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, eyes downcast to your ass but not being able to see much with your hoodie going down past it. Instead of going to the corner of the library you were at last time, you walk to one of the private study rooms. “Sit and get your shit out.”

Bucky wastes no time following your direction, loving how brazen you were. You sit down next to him, giving him the opportunity to smell your perfume, the light scent intoxicating. “So, teach, what are we working on first?” His eyes are bright and attentive, taking in your facial expressions. He’s trying to butter you up, make you less angry at him.

“We have to fix your atrocious essay. It’s worth the most amount of points so hopefully it will bring your grade up.” You root through his binder, nothing organized at all. When you find it and pull it out you sigh, not knowing where to even start. “Okay, first things first, you need to at least understand what this is about.”

You explain everything to him, stopping to see if he is still following along, surprised to see him paying attention, going so far as to interrupt every so often to ask questions. For the first time since he got to college, Bucky is trying. The two of you sit there for a few hours, going over the essay line by line, fixing his mistakes. To your surprise, his grammar wasn’t too bad. At least he had something going for him.

The next few lessons go by the same way, Bucky working hard to not piss you off, but also to improve his grades. There were no flirty comments, no complaining about you being bossy. He was falling for you, something that Bucky never thought would happen to him.

He didn’t know how it started. Maybe it was that day you told him off, grabbing his shirt and putting him in his place. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. You were so beautiful and smart. God you were smart. It amazed him how easy it was for you to explain the assignments to him. 

Bucky stopped going to parties, too. For once he didn’t find interest in getting shitfaced drunk and sticking his dick in a random girl; although it was giving him his first ever case of blue balls, it just felt wrong to have sex with another girl. He tried once at the last party he went to before he decided to stop going, but her hand on his cock didn’t make him pulse with need. Bucky ended up faking a phone call, saying that his friend was in the hospital and he needed to go see him.

As the weeks pass, Bucky can tell you’re getting soft on him, especially when you called him Bucky for the first time.

 “C’mon, sweets, it can’t be that bad helpin’ me out.” Bucky leans back in his chair, his signature smirk plastered on his face. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, James because from where I stand, I’m losing IQ points by the minute with you.” You still try to sass him but Bucky can tell you’re fighting off a smile. The two of you talk like actual friends now - no more jabs at his promiscuity and no more ogling.

“Ah, I think it’s the other way around. I can feel myself gettin’ smarter with ya’.” Bucky puts his head on the table in front of you, moving so he could look at your face. His eyes glisten, showing the sweet man hidden underneath his tough exterior.

“Oh, give me a break, Bucky, you’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll do all the work for you.” You smile, looking down at him with the same adoration he’s giving you. His name leaving your lips felt right, smooth and sweet.

Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting his name to sound so damn good coming from you. He doesn’t say anything in fear of you going back to calling him James. Now that you’ve called him Bucky, he never wants to hear his first name come out of your mouth again. He wants to be your Bucky.

You can’t deny the feelings you’ve developed for Bucky. The man charming his way into your heart, but you know you can’t act on them. You doubt that Bucky has ever been in a serious relationship, only going for one night stands. Even though you’ve seen first hand how sweet of a man he can be, you still aren’t convinced that he would be interested in dating.

But Bucky doesn’t share the same sentiment. Today is the day he’s going to ask you on a date, hoping that you’ll say yes and give him a chance to prove himself to you, prove that he can be the man you deserve. Like always, you’re in the library before him, already set up and waiting. When you see him walking over you wave, the same gorgeous smile he fell for gracing your lips. 

You could tell that he was nervous, stuttering and not meeting your eyes. “Bucky, what’s going on with you? Don’t tell me that you forgot to turn in the essay that we’ve been working on.”

Bucky smiles sheepishly at you. “No, sweets, I remembered to turn it in. I, uh, well, ya’ know. I got a question for ya’.” Mentally slapping himself in the face, Bucky blushed.

Staring at him suspiciously, you pushed your laptop away, giving him your full attention. “Well, sweets, you’ve been so good to me over these past few weeks. Really turned me around. I didn’t think that I would be able to do all this college shit, you know?” It wasn’t a question that he wanted you to answer. “You made me change my ways. I don’t want to go to parties and get blackout drunk anymore. To be honest, I’d much rather spend my time with you.”

Bucky takes a deep breath while you gaze at him with a blank expression on your face, making him even more nervous than before. “Doesn’t matter what we’re doing, s’long as it’s with you I don’t care.”

You cut off his rambling, afraid of where he is going. “Bucky, what are you trying to say to me?” You know what he is trying to say, but you don’t know how to react to it. It’s not like you haven’t imagined what it would be like to go out with him, but that’s just not the man he is.

“I’m tryin’ to be romantic right now, sweets.” He lets out a little giggle, playing with his hands to try to calm himself down. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, would you like to go on a date with me?” Bucky feels his heart drop when you only stare at him, not even blinking. His knee starts to bounce, the anticipation becoming too much for him.

You sigh, thinking about what to say to him. The two of you have a good friendship, one that you never thought you would have, but starting a relationship with him is terrifying. “Bucky, listen.” Just from the way you started your sentence, Bucky regrets saying anything. “It’s not that I don’t like you, I really do, but I can’t deny that your past scares me.”

“What do you mean, sweets?” For a man so observant, he can be a little dumb.

“You don’t do relationships, Bucky. You’re used to no strings attached and dating includes a lot of strings.” Bucky clenches his jaw, of course his past would come back to bite him in the ass.

“I don’t want no strings attached anymore. I want to be with you and only you.” You close your eyes, putting your head down slightly. You want to believe him, you really do, but you don’t want to get your heart broken. Gently, Bucky’s hand grabs your chin, moving you to face him. “Let me prove myself to you, sweets, just give me a chance and if I blow it I give you full permission to kick my ass.”

That brings a small smile to your lips, but you’re still not convinced. “What if you get bored of me? Being with the same person over and over again?” Bucky’s heart aches at your words, not used to seeing you unsure of yourself. How could he ever get tired of you? He knows that he is the one who caused your insecurities. If he didn’t sleep around as much as he did, then you wouldn’t worry about his loyalty.

“Sweetheart, ever since you put me in my place, I haven’t touched another woman, can’t even think about someone who isn’t you touchin’ me. Just one chance is all I’m askin’ and I promise that I will show you how much I care.”

Closing your eyes, you lean into his warm palm, letting yourself feel him. His eyes hold so much vulnerability and you feel yourself losing the ability to say no to him. “Just one chance, Barnes. And if you hurt me I swear to God.” You’ve never seen Bucky smile so wide, pure joy adorning his face. 

The smile never left his face, only growing wider. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweets. What about you come over to my dorm and we can have a movie night? Maybe you could even stay over?” He looks sheepish, worried you’ll turn him down. At the quirk of your brow he rushes to explain himself. “Not like that! Just to hang out.”

You head back to your dorm to get a change of clothes while Bucky waits outside so he could walk with you back to his. As soon as you walk out, he is rushing to grab your bag from you, insisting that he carries it. “Bucky, I can carry my own bag, you know. I’m capable of that much.” He loves your little attitude, never accepting his help.

Throwing an arm over your shoulder, Bucky leads you away, not giving you your bag back. His dorm is just what you expect from a college frat boy: trash can overflowing, clothes on the floor, food left out, bed a complete mess. Scratching the back of his neck, Bucky shyly looks at you. You decide to only give him a little bit of grief for the mess. “Am I allowed on the bed or have you fucked someone here?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, frantically shaking his head. “No, never brought anyone back to my dorm.” Toeing your shoes off, you ask him where the bathroom is, changing your clothes before you flop onto the bed, letting yourself sink into the fluffy mattress. For a minute, Bucky feels his brain malfunction. The sight of you in his bed is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He would give his left arm to have you naked right now, his cock buried deep inside you, your pussy pulsing around his cock, moaning when he rubs little circles on your clit.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna put on a movie, loverboy?” Shaking his head, Bucky nods and heads over to grab his laptop before climbing into bed, leaving space in between the two of you in case you didn’t want to be too close. “I didn’t know that hanging off the side of the bed was your style, but if you want to leave me to freeze feel free to do so.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to act around you, this whole dating thing is uncharted territory for him. He just moves over, your thigh pressed to his. Bucky had to will his cock to not get hard, the softness of your body was making it hard to think straight. The fact that he’s only jerked off for the past month isn’t helping either.

You move to get more comfortable, which so happens to include you snuggling into his side, curling your arms around his bicep. Bucky has no clue what the movie is about, the image of all the things he wants to do to you in this bed are too much for him. He doesn’t know what the feeling passing over him is. He likes this. He likes the feeling of your body pressed to his. Not in a sexual way, although he wouldn’t mind that either, but in a completely innocent way. Bucky never stayed around after he came, always getting dressed and leaving. He’s never had a woman press their body against his just to find comfort.

Somehow, Bucky is following along with the plot of the movie, but he knows that it was just because of how you interacted with all the characters like they could hear you. Bucky would usually hate that, he hates when people talk through movies, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with you. If anything, he was glad that you kept talking, giving him the opportunity to hear your voice.

Halfway through the movie you stop talking. When Bucky looks down he sees that you fell asleep on his chest. Of course at that moment Bucky’s bladder decided that he needed to pee urgently. He tried to hold off for as long as he could, focusing on the part of your mouth and the bit of drool leaking from it. But try as he might, he needed to use the bathroom. 

He tried to maneuver you to not disturb your sleep but you woke up as soon as he moved. “Where you going?” Shit, he’s going to have to pee with a boner because your sleepy voice sent blood right to his cock. 

“Just gotta take a leak, be right back.” You just snuggle deeper into the pillows, humming in understandment. Bucky has to put one hand on the wall in the bathroom, leaning over the toilet at an awkward angle trying to push his erection down with his other hand so he could pee. It took a bit of work, but he was able to go without making a mess. Now, Bucky might be a lot of things, but unhygienic isn’t one of them and before he goes back to bed he washes his hands.

Once he walks back into the room he sees that you’re more awake than before but still laying in bed. He hits the lightswitch on his way over and turns on the lamp, letting the soft glow illuminate your features. “What took you so long? Almost fell back asleep.”

Before he could answer, you wrap your body around his and feel his hard cock through his sweats. Pulling away slightly, your face gets hot. That’s why he took so long. “Shit, sweets, I’m sorry. It’s just, well, you were in my bed, and you look so gorgeous. Not that I’m expecting anything! But the image of you is fucking hot. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your giggle catches him by surprise. “It’s okay, Bucky. Can’t imagine going from having sex all the time to being abstinent for a month.” With the soft glow of the lamp, you see Bucky’s blush. “Just don’t think I’m going to fix it for you though.” He shakes his head and chuckles lowly, pulling you back into him, keeping his pelvis away from yours even though his dick was begging for release.

Bucky doesn’t say anything back, but his hand moves to your waist, resting over your shirt. His thumb rubs small circles before he trails his hand up to your ribs and you can feel the heat of his palm through your shirt. For a few minutes he keeps his hand there, feeling your heartbeat, all the while moving his face closer.

He can feel your heartbeat pick up the closer he gets. You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and inviting. You’ve never been this close to his face, seeing all of his freckles up close. You don’t want him to pull away, not when your whole body is thrumming with need. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Bucky could be this gentle.

He moves his hand up to your arm, delicately trailing his fingertips up and down, giving you goosebumps. Bucky is waiting for you to make the first move this time. The first time he kissed you was crass and unwarranted. The little gasp that leaves your lips when his palm rests on your cheek makes his cock jump.

Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in first. His plump lips meet yours and you moan into his mouth, not expecting his lips to be so soft and warm. You move your hands to his chest, pulling him closer to you, wanting to feel his whole body pressed to yours. You ignore the erection pressed against your stomach, completely lost in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Bucky frees his other hand from under him and wraps it around your waist, pulling you on top of him. The pressure of his hand caused you to arch your back, gasping when your core meets his hard dick. Bucky doesn’t waste the opportunity to put his tongue in your mouth, groaning at the taste. He has to use every bit of self control in his body not to buck his hips up, but he doesn’t have to because you grind down onto him, searching for friction. The harder you kiss him, the more his will slips from him and he was the first to break the kiss, a trail of saliva still connecting you to him.

Both of you gasp for breath, having deprived yourselves of oxygen for too long. “Why’d you stop?” God, you were perfect. Eyes wide, pupils blown, kiss swollen lips - Bucky knew that he wanted to keep you like this all the time, having you look at him like that was addicting and he was already hooked.

“If we keep going I won’t be able to control myself and I told you that I’m going to prove to you that I’m in this. That I don’t want you just for sex. I’m going to treat you right, make sure you know how much I care first.” You have to bite your lip to stop the moan leaving you. That was the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. The fact that Bucky, the resident fuckboy, is denying sex because he wants to show you what you mean to him first has your cunt clenching around nothing.

You can’t think of words to convey how much that means to you, so you just slam your lips against his, kissing him with as much passion as you possibly could. Bucky has to use every morsel of restraint to move you off of him. “Sweets, you’re going to kill me with this.” The giggle you let out makes leaving his throbbing dick alone worth it, but you take pity on him and ask if he wants to go to the bathroom to fix his issue.

At first he declines, but he eventually caves and goes into the bathroom, shuts the door and handles his business. You scroll on your phone for a bit but you’re surprised when he comes back so fast. “Loverboy, this better not be a sign that you don’t last in bed, because when we do have sex, I want you to fuck me properly.”

As he flops back down on the bed, he groans. When, you said when, not if, when. “Sweets, if I hadn’t just came my dick would be rock hard again. You can’t say shit like that to me.” He rolls over, stradling you. “And sweets, I promise you, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name.”

You just raise your eyebrows, choosing to tease him a bit. “Well, based on the time you spent touching yourself, I’m not convinced. Hope your reputation hasn’t gone to your head because I’ll be honest if you can’t fuck me right.”

Bucky squints his eyes at you before leaning down, like he was going to kiss you again, but at the last moment, he pulls back and tickles your sides. Your laughter is easily one of his favorite sounds. “Bucky! Stop or else I’ll never have sex with you.” That makes him pause, even though he knew it was an empty threat and lays back down next to you.

“Okay, okay, sweets, I’ll leave you be. But I wouldn’t be opposed to you tickling me.” 

“What, is this a kink that you have, being tickled?” He scrunches his nose while he laughs, knowing what he was going to say next.

“No, but I would love it if you would tickle my pickle.” He smirks like it was the best joke ever told, proud of himself. You groan and turn away from him so he can’t see your smile. “C’mon, sweets, that was a good one.”

If you turn around you know you’ll see his puppy dog eyes. “Buck, that was the worst joke in the history of jokes.” 

“Ah, ah, I can hear your smile. You loved it.” You don’t respond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you liked his joke. It’s silent for a moment and you are about to turn back around but Bucky talks before you can. “Do you mind if we spoon? I mean, you don’t have to stay overnight, but if you want to, ya’ know.”

“Well, it is pretty cold outside, and I would hate to have to walk all the way back. And who knows, I could freeze to death at my dorm. Better be safe than sorry.” Bucky knows what you're doing and plays along.

“Of course, sweets, can’t have my girl freeze. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t keep my girl warm.” You skooch back, pressing against his chest and his arms circle your waist, chin resting on your head. “Night, sweets, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Only if I don’t run away, loverboy.” You feel the vibrations of his chest as he chuckles before leaning back to turn the lamp off, falling asleep with your soft body pressed to his.

Over the next few months, Bucky proves himself to be the perfect boyfriend, always asking you how your day was, remembering all the little things about you, kissing you and holding your hand around campus, not giving a single fuck who saw the two of you. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit he was whipped.

“Buck, c’mon, this is the best fucking party of the year, you have to go. It’s gonna be packed with girls in slutty costumes, Halloween man, everyone wants to fuck everyone.” Bucky only rolls his eyes at Steve.

“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, parties aren’t for me anymore. Hangovers suck dick and I have better things to do in my free time.” Steve doesn’t seem to understand how much Bucky loved you. He’s never said it, at least not yet. 

“Like what, hanging out with the nerd who hasn’t put out in three months? C’mon, I know you want some pussy and it’s gonna be on a fucking platter tonight.” Bucky sees red, not giving a shit that Steve is his best friend. No one talks about his girl like that, no one.

“Steve, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you fucking know how much I care about her. If I ever hear you call her that shit again, I’ll put you in the fucking hospital. I couldn’t give less of a shit about how long I have to wait for her to know that I don’t just want a pussy to fuck, not anymore. I’m done with the parties and the random girls, okay. So get that through your thick skull.”

He doesn’t wait for Steve to answer, storming out of Steve’s dorm and walking away, not even caring where he was headed. He doesn’t know how he got there, but he stands outside of your door, raising his hand to knock. You always answer the door for him and this time is no different.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” You were so tuned into him, reading him like a book. Without waiting you pull him into your dorm, shutting and locking the door behind him, leading him to your bed. His jaw was clenched, eyes set. If he was a cartoon, steam would be pouring from his ears.

“Fucking Steve.” He kicks off his shoes and gets comfortable in your bed, you following right after. You would go anywhere he goes.

Cuddling up to him, you pull him into you and his muscles relax at your touch, body responding to yours without thought. “What about Steve? You two get into a fight?” You never really liked Steve, but he was Bucky’s friend and you would listen to whatever he had to say about Steve. He was just like Bucky was before he met you.

“Being a fucking asshole. You wanna know what he said to me?” Bucky doesn’t wait for you to answer, only turning his head to see you better before continuing. “Wanted me to go to the Halloween party tonight, talking about all the girls that want to fuck as if he doesn’t know that I’m with you.” That doesn’t seem as bad as you thought, thinking that they got into a fist fight. It doesn’t surprise you that Steve was still trying to convince Bucky to go back to his playboy ways.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “He had the fucking nerve to say that I should go because we haven’t had sex yet, like I give a shit about that. Fucking disrespected you right to my face.” You couldn’t deny that you were turned on by the fact that Bucky was defending your honor even when you weren’t there, not letting anyone bad mouth you.

“And what did you say, Buck?” Fuck, your voice was breathing, heartrate picking up. You wanted to hear what he said, how he told his best friend off. Bucky didn’t seem to pick up on your arousal, still too heated from his argument.

“Fucking told his ass that if he ever says that shit again, I’ll fuck him up. No one talks about my girl like that, don’t give a shit who it is.” You swear you could cum right now. Why was that so hot? Maybe it was because you’ve never had a man that didn’t let anyone disrespect you, or maybe you just liked to see him mad.

“I want you, Bucky. Want you to fuck me.” It just comes out, shocking the both of you. Bucky whips his head around, eyes as wide as your own.

“What?” 

“I want you to fuck me. I’m ready, know you don’t just want to use me.” Bucky’s dick is rock hard in seconds, all the anger in his body disapparating instantly. 

“Are you sure you want this, sweets? Because I have no problem waiting.” Throughout the course of your dating, Bucky can’t count the amount of times that he’s been hard and left his cock untouched. It’s gotten to the point where the two of you knew he was going to get hard when he was around you, not that it bothered you, knowing how much you were affecting him, but Bucky’s used to ignoring his erection now and he has no problem waiting for it to go away if you don’t want to have sex with him.

“Yes, Bucky, I think I’ve made you wait long enough. And to be honest, if I make you wait any longer I don’t think you’ll last more than a minute.” The mouth on you marvels Bucky every time. 

“Excuse me, sweets, but I’ll have you know I’m no two pump chump.” You only raise an eyebrow and Bucky huffs before kissing you again. It’s slow and hot. Bucky’s never kissed like this before, but with you he just can’t help but savor the feeling of your lips on his. He doesn’t want to rush, if he could he would kiss you forever, stuck in limbo, floating with only your touch to ground him.

You whine, hands pulling at his shirt, trying to get him to take it off. Bucky moves back, smirking at you. “Desperate, aren’t we? Just wanna feel me ‘gainst you, huh?” Teasing hasn’t been something Bucky really did, always hurrying to the main event, but he wants to make you crave him as much as he does you. 

The glare you give him holds no heat, not able to be mad at him when he’s looking so damn hot above you. Bucky relents, just this once, and takes his shirt off, revealing his toned stomach. He sucks a breath in through his teeth when your hands land on his abs. “Holy hell, woman! Your hands are fucking ice cubes!” You giggle but don’t pull away, sitting up and moving your hands across his back, slipping them into his sweats, finding his bare ass and squeezing.

“Well, loverboy, warm them up for me.” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling at you. He takes your hands out of his pants and lays you back down, letting his warm palms circle the soft skin of your belly under your shirt. 

“Can I take this off, sweetheart? Gonna let me see those pretty tits?” Your cunt pulses at his words. Men that you’ve been with before haven’t talked to you like this, making you yearn for them.

“I mean, you can take it off but they’re not that pretty.” Bucky wheels his head back, clearly offended by your statement. For the first time, you shy away from his gaze. You weren’t exactly insecure about your body, but you also weren’t the most confident and you doubt that your body is better than the surplus of girls Bucky’s had.

“I beg your fucking pardon, sweets. I’m gonna need you to run that by me again.” Bucky lowers his face to yours, and you’re sure he is looking right through you. 

“Well, I doubt they’re the best pair you’ve seen, Buck. Don’t roll your eyes at me either.” You catch the eye roll Bucky gave you. He wasn’t rolling his eyes at you, but rather the words you were saying.

“I can’t believe my ears, sweets. The smartest girl I’ve ever met is saying what is quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve heard. And that’s coming from the guy who is friends with Sam.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes and instead of saying anything back to him, you grab the bottom of your shirt and take it off, revealing your naked chest to him, foregoing a bra.

Like any man, Bucky gets distracted by the sight of your breasts on display for him. It takes him a second, but he shakes his head and comes back from his daze. “Fuck, sweetheart, you got the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. Fucking perfect.” Bucky isn’t lying either, he really does think that you’re the most beautiful woman on the entire planet, every part of your body is perfection. “Should be a model, sweets, let everyone see how gorgeous you are.”

You feel the heat creep up your neck and rest on your cheeks. You aren’t used to being looked at like this. The look he’s giving you is so much different from when you first started working with him. It’s not filled with lust, although you can tell it’s there, but filled with awe and love. “Uh, uh, don’t look away from me. Want you to look at me while I make you cum.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before moving down to your neck, sucking on your sweet spot that he found the first time you made out. The little gasps and whines that leave your lips has his cock begging to be touched, but right now it isn’t about him, it’s about you.

You arch your back, pressing your soft breasts against his solid chest, drawing his attention away from your neck and to your tits. Trailing kisses down your chest, he swirls his tongue around your right breast, purposely avoiding your sensitive nipple. He doesn’t listen to any of your protests so you take matters into your own hands and grab a fistfull of his hair and jerk his head to where you want him to be. 

 The moan that leaves Bucky is pornographic, having no idea he liked his hair pulled that much. Bucky abides and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. “Oh, Bucky, just like that, feels good.” Bucky has to buck his hips into yours, never hearing something so sexy in all his life.

His other hand comes up to grab your other breast, rolling your nipple in between his fingers, every so often switching to give each one the attention they deserve. The longer he plays with your breasts, the more you feel your panties soak and you can’t take it anymore, needing some type of release.

Bucky pulls away with a pop, the cool air hitting your wet nipples makes you gasp. “Baby, I need you to touch me.” You can sense the words about to leave his mouth and answer his unspoken question. “Touch my pussy.”

Letting out a deep groan, Bucky grabs the hem of your sleep shorts, pulling them and your panties down when you nod. Your hand jets down to cover your pussy when you remember that you haven’t shaved, not expecting to have sex with Bucky tonight. “Wait, I have hair right now, maybe we shouldn’t.”

Bucky just blinks at you. He can’t believe that you would deprive him of your pussy because of a little hair. “Sweets, I have been a patient man, but I swear to God if you don’t move your hand and let me see my pretty pussy I’m going to lose my mind. You really think I give a shit if you have some fucking hair?”

You just smile sheepishly at him before removing your hand. “There she is. Look at her, so beautiful ain’t she? Yeah, she’s dripping for me, knows who she belongs to.” Fuck, you didn’t expect him to be so enamored with your cunt. “Ya gonna let me touch my pretty girl?”

You gulp before giving a breathy yes and Bucky spreads your legs a little wider and brings his right hand up to your pussy lips, gently tracing them making you twitch and giggle. “Bucky, that tickles.” Bucky smiles and his nose scrunches before his thumb goes from your hole up to your clit. “Fuck, Bucky, rub my clit.”

He just stops his movement, resting his thumb on your bundle of nerves. “This is where I’m in charge, sweets, and I don’t think that was a very polite way of talking to the man who is touching you.” You huff, not used to taking orders from anyone, but you want him to keep touching you so you relent.

“Will you please, rub my clit, loverboy.”

Bucky clicks his tongue at you. “Now, sweets, that didn’t sound very genuine but I’ll let it slide this time because I want to see this pretty pussy soak my sheets.” 

He starts to rub your clit from side to side, making you jerk your hips away. “Don’t fucking DJ my cunt. Circles, Buck, circles. You’re making me lose faith in you, babe.” Heat makes its way up his neck, his selfishness finally catching up to him. He doesn’t say anything, but switches up his method to what you said and you giggle at his confidence wavering.

His little slip up doesn’t slow him down, though, quickly finding the pace and pressure that seems to work best and draws those pretty sounds from your lips. Bucky knows that he isn’t going to be able to get enough of this, of you laid out on his bed consumed by the pleasure he is giving you. 

“You want my fingers inside ya? Cause I wanna feel my pretty girl cum around my fingers.” You can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t remember if you’ve ever gotten to the edge this fast. All you can do is nod, moans and gasps the only sounds leaving your lips.

When his first finger slips inside you, your back arches and somehow the moans leaving you get even sexier and Bucky slips another finger in. “That’s it, pretty girl, suck my fingers in. Doing so good for me, knew you’d treat me so well. Don’t ya think, sweets?” The way he talks to your pussy has you leaking more arousal out.

“Please, Bucky, don’t stop, keep going just like that. M’gonna cum.”

A jolt of excitement shoots up Bucky’s spine. He wanted to see you cum so bad. Using every bit of self control in his body not to speed up, Bucky kept the same pace, curling his fingers to find that spongy patch. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweets, need to feel my pretty girl cum on my fingers. Promise I’ll feed her my cock after.”

Bucky groans with each clench of your cunt around his fingers, more desperate than you for your orgasm. “C’mon, sweets, give it to me. Can feel your clit pulsing. Be my good girl and give me what I want.” That was all you needed to fall off the edge, trusting that Bucky would catch you. 

Bucky’s sure that the sight of you cumming is the greatest thing in the world. He couldn’t dream of fucking you and not seeing you fall apart for him. He never stops moving his fingers, riding out your orgasm, only relenting when you push his hand away. It takes a few minutes, but you come back down, an open mouth smile on your face, eyes closed and Bucky falls even harder for you.

Blindly, you search for his pants, wanting to see his cock. “Bring him out, Buck, wanna see my new friend.” If it wasn’t for the orgasm he just gave you, Bucky would have been positive that you were drunk off your ass. Doubling over, Bucky cackles, not expecting to hear that come out of your mouth. “Don’t you laugh at me, loverboy, know your cock is huge. Let me meet him. Wanna put him in my mouth.” You give him a lopsided smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweets, you can meet him.” Bucky struggles to hold back his laugh. In all fairness, he did refer to your pussy as her, but the thought of you calling his dick him is hilarious. Nonetheless, Bucky strips the rest of his clothes off and you practically drool at the sight of his dick.

A little over average length, but thick as hell. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cock that thick and you know he is going to destroy your cunt. Under his cock, his balls were heavy and full, the amount of cum in there building up just for you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him into you and Bucky has to catch himself with his arms so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. 

You both gasp when his bare cock rubs against your soaking cunt. Bucky has to close his eyes and think about all the assignments he still has to complete to stop himself from cumming on the spot. “Want it inside me, please, Buck, give it to me.” Bucky is near the verge of crying when you grind your cunt on him.

All you want is for him to fuck you until you can’t see straight and so does Bucky, but it takes everything in him to put away, knowing that the next words to come out of his mouth aren’t going to be sexy. “Hold on, sweets. I have to get a condom first.”

You don’t like that one bit, wanting to feel him inside you with no barrier. “Don’t need one, ‘m on the pill.” That has Bucky about to cum all over his sheets and your pussy. He knows that he needs to be responsible, not only for him, but for you too.

“Sweets, I, well, I haven’t been tested since my last partner. I’ve never done it without a condom, but I don’t want to risk it until I get tested.” He hangs his head in shame, yet again his promiscuity is coming back to bite him in the ass. What he wouldn’t give to feel your sopping cunt choke his dick, hell only knows, but his statement seems to sober you up.

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably for the best.” You can’t meet his eyes, the conversation awkward enough even if you weren’t about to fuck. Bucky takes in a deep breath and huffs out, clearly not knowing what to do next so you decide to lighten the mood. “Well, loverboy, you better wrap that bad boy up so you can prove that you can actually fuck me like you said you would.”

You got Bucky to crack a smile before he gave a small smack to your thigh and walked over to his nightstand to get a condom. You wolf whistled when you saw his toned ass. “Damn, baby, you’ve been holding out on me?”

Bucky wheels around and says some clever retort, but you don’t hear it, not when his cock swings around with him, bobbing at the sudden change of direction. Not only that, but with each step he takes, his dick bounces up and down. “Sweetheart, it’s all yours. Stare all you want but close your mouth before I put somethin’ in there.”

Bucky rolls the condom down his length, giving it a few pumps while he admires you laid out on his bed, naked and ready for him to fuck you. Before he climbs back into bed, you stop him. “Wait, loverboy, do a little spin for me, let me see him move.”

Throwing his head back, Bucky lets out a belly laugh, and he just so happens to make his cock and balls bounce. “C’mon, s’all I want.” When he calms down, Bucky relents and circles his hips a few times, his cock, although stiff, moves with his hips and you have to close your legs to try to relieve the ache in your core. “Fuck, need you now, Bucky.”

“Yeah, sweets, you need my cock? Does my pretty girl need to be stuffed with my cock?” No smart retort comes to your mind, only the need to have him fill you up. It’s been way too long since you’ve had sex and you know Bucky’s cock is going to ruin you for anyone else.

“Please, Buck.” Fuck, the way you’re looking at him, with wide, pleading eyes, and a pout on your lips has Bucky’s dick pulsing. He climbs on the bed, in between your legs. “How do you want me?” You’ve overheard Bucky relive his one night stands more than once in class, before he fell for you. He was always adamant that the only positions worth doing were the ones where he could see the girl’s ass, and how boring positions where he could see her face were. 

Bucky stares at you for a second, cupping your face and leaning down to give you a tender kiss. “Want you just like this, sweets, wanna see you.” You swallow hard, willing yourself not to cry at how intimate he’s being. Despite your best efforts, tears well up in your eyes, making Bucky panic.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” His eyes hold so much love, something Bucky never thought he would feel for a partner. You wrap your legs and arms around him, clinging like a koala.

“Not a damn thing, Buck, just love you. Love you so fucking much it hurts.” Bucky feels his heart swell. If this is what it felt like to love and be loved, Bucky would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you, show you how perfect you are, love you as hard as he can and then some.

“Sweetheart, I can’t even put into words how much I fucking love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, made me change from the asshole I was.” Bucky had his own tears welling up in his waterline.

“Buck, make love to me, show me how much you love me.” Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his dick, drawing a gasp from his lips, and line him up with your pussy. He presses his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he pushes in, cock stretching your cunt with every inch.

Crashing his lips into yours, Bucky tries to hide his moan, whiny and long, never feeling such intense pleasure. Neither of you can kiss, just gasping into the other’s mouth. When his hips are flush with yours, balls resting against your ass, Bucky has to stop. If he moves he’ll cum; he knows it. He’s never felt like he would cum on the first stroke, but the way your cunt hugs him has him doubting that he’ll last more than a few minutes.

You can’t handle it, the stretch of his cock almost too much, but you needed him to move. “Please, baby, move, need it.” The moan that leaves him is sinful and you involuntarily clench around him.

“Sweets, can’t. Need a minute.” His arms go to your waist, and he pulls you up, groaning when his cock shifts deeper inside you, and sits with his back against the headboard, keeping you wrapped in his arms, bodies pressed so close together you could feel every muscle. Bucky closes his eyes, resting his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and relishing in the intimacy of the moment, with your breasts squished against his chest, feeling every breath you take, loving your soft hands scratching his scalp.

“Do this with all the girls, loverboy?” The breathiness in your voice has his cock pulsing against your walls.

“Never, sweetheart, never. You feel so fucking good.” Bucky sounded like he was about to cry with how hard he was trying not to cum.

You wanted him to fuck you, pussy leaking down his thighs. You decided that if you annoy him enough he might just fuck you dumb. “Guess I was right then, loverboy can’t last in bed. Gonna tell everyone how I broke your cock, how fast you came for me.”

That seemed to strike a nerve and Bucky rolled over, pining you to the bed with his body. You gasped at the quick motion and the jostle of his cock. “Sweets, now is not the time to tease me. Use your mouth for something better.” He could already hear your, like what, so he cut you off before you could get anything out. “Like moaning my name while I fuck you.”

He doesn’t pull his cock out far, wanting to stay as close to you as possible. Pushing back in, he groans, having to will himself not to cum. You feel so good, pussy wrapped around him perfectly. “Sweets, love you so much, never wanna leave this pussy.” You whine, a jolt of pleasure going through your clit at his words. 

“Love you too, Buck. Want to stay like this forever, want you.” It’s Bucky’s turn to whine, rutting into you, the coarse curls at the base of his cock rubbing your clit, the sensation of your breasts pressed to him new to him. 

He can’t help it, you just look too pretty underneath him, grabbing both of your hands in his, lacing them together and putting them above your head and pressing his forehead to yours, staring into your eyes. His lips meet yours, both of your whines and moans mix together. 

The constant roll of his hips is pushing you to the edge faster than ever before. You take one of your hands, still laced with his, and place it over his heart, feeling the erratic beat. The coil in your stomach is curling tighter and tighter. “C’mon, sweets, can feel you clenching ‘round me. Give it to me, cum on my cock.” 

Bucky is doing his best to hold on, wanting this moment to last, to relish in the bubble the two of you have created. His moans get louder, his own orgasm creeping up on him. Wiggling your other hand out of his grasp, you run your fingers over the back of his head, crashing your lips on his before you fall off the edge, eyes rolling back and body quivering, his body the only thing grounding you.

He had to pull out, your pussy almost milking his cum out, but he didn’t want to cum just yet. He wants to make you cum again, this time while he looks at your face, seeing it scrunch up in pleasure. You didn’t seem too happy at him for pulling out, needing him to be as close as possible. “Keep fucking me, Bucky. I need you to cum for me.”

Bucky groans before guiding his cock back home, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels your pussy somehow got even tighter. Not wasting any time, he starts thrusting again, this time much faster, still rolling his hips, hitting your sweet spot every time.

Pulling his body away from yours, Bucky sits up, resting your thighs over his, keeping his dick inside of you, not missing a single thrust. With the new position, he can see your breasts bounce, but more importantly, how beautiful your face looks screwed in ecstasy. “So fucking beautiful for me, sweets. Love the way your pretty tits jiggle, look gorgeous when your getting fucked dumb on my cock, gonna keep you like this all the time.” 

In this position, your clit is being neglected so you reach one hand down, desperate to cum again. Bucky quickly swats your hand away, replacing it with his own. “Ah, ah, I’m gonna make my girl cum. Just want you to lay there and look pretty for me. Can you do that for me?” You just moan in response, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit, bringing you to the edge again. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes! I’ll do anything you want.” You feel Bucky’s cock pulsing inside of you, thrusts becoming sloppy and losing their rhythm. “Cum for me, Bucky, fill me up with your cum.” You both know that he is wearing a condom, but the thought of his cum rushing into your pussy, stuffing you to the brim, is enough to have Bucky emptying his balls into the rubber, groaning deep, almost whining your name.

He can’t stop thrusting into you, still rubbing your clit, desperate for you to cum around him. “Sweets, so much fucking cum for you, know you can take it. Fuck, cum for me, milk my cock, get every drop out.” Bucky was right, you looked absolutely divine when you came. At that moment you’ve never looked prettier.

Bucky never felt an orgasm that intense, leaving him weak in the knees. Collapsing onto your chest, not able to hold his own weight up. You huff, air being pushed out of your lungs, but you don’t mind, his weight soothing, helping to bring you back down from the highs of your orgasms. You both lay there, hands stroking each other until you fully come back to reality.

“Gonna pull out, sweets, okay?” Bucky has never had his cock in a girl this long after he’s came, and it was getting too sensitive. Words don’t come to mind and you just nod your head dumbly, both of you hissing at the sensation.

Without a word, Bucky gets up and heads to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean himself up. All of a sudden tears well up in your eyes, body cold and craving his touch. He’s been so sweet to you for the past months, proving that he didn’t just want sex with you, but now he’s walking away as soon as you’re done. 

The buzzing of your body goes away, dread filling you. Rolling over, you burrito yourself under the covers, facing away from the bathroom, not able to stop the tears from streaming down your face. It only takes a few minutes, but to you it feels like a lifetime, until Bucky comes back, sliding under the covers himself. 

“So, sweets, what do ya’ want to do? I could go for a bite to eat myself. Don’t know when the last time you ate was though.” Bucky, on the other hand, was basking in the afterglow of the best sex of his life, already thinking about all the things he could do with you, all the ways he could get you to cum for him.

When you don’t respond right away, Bucky thinks you fell asleep. Leaving a kiss to the back of your head, he gets up and puts his sweats on, not bothering with anything else and heads to your kitchen. He doesn’t feel like making a full meal so he decides to just make a quick sandwich and head back to bed after eating.

You burst into full blown sobs when Bucky leaves, assuming that he left your dorm all together, having no idea that he was just outside. How could you have been so stupid to think that he really wanted you? Bucky goes to take a bite out of his snack when he hears your sobs, immediately thinking the worst - he hurt you, did something you didn’t like.

Rushing back into the room, Bucky climbs back into bed, rolling you over without warning. “What are you still doing here? Thought you left?” How could you ever think that he would leave you?

“No, sweets, just went to make a sandwich. What’s going on? Why are you crying?” Bucky has never been so fucking scared in all his life, terrified that he hurt you.

“Thought you left after you got what you wanted. You just left me in the bed after we were done.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting you to say that. He doesn’t know what he did wrong. He’s never stuck around after sex, confused at what’s going on with you.

“Sweets, I’m so sorry that I made you think that, but I don’t know what’s going on. Need you to talk to me. I don’t want you to think I don’t care.” Your bottom lip wobbled, of course he didn’t know about aftercare. It wasn’t his fault that he never had a relationship like this. It meant so much to you that he was asking how to fix his mistake.

“I get really sensitive after sex. It’s annoying actually, but I need to be held and told that you still love me.” You avoid his gaze, more tears making their way down your face, Bucky wiping them away. How could his perfect girl think that her needs were annoying or an inconvenience to him.

“Oh, sweetheart, come here.” Bucky pulls you into his lap, almost petting your hair. “You did so good for me, you know that? I love you so fucking much and nothing is going to change that, okay?” He pulls your head back to look into your eyes.

“It’s just that my last boyfriend said that he couldn’t look at me after sex, said he couldn’t see me the same way.” What in the fuck. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to understand that I know that I’m the fucking luckiest man alive to be able to be with you any way you let me. When I look at you I’m so proud to call you mine.”

You bury your head in his shoulder, letting him hold you and whisper sweet words in your ear. For his first time doing aftercare, Bucky is doing great and soon you come all the way down. Pulling away from him you giggle. “Love you too, Buck. Thank you for that. I know some men don’t care about that. After they get what they want they leave.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, thinking about all the girls he made feel like they were worthless. “I know that you did the same thing, but the fact that you were so willing to change means a lot to me.”

Bucky knows that there’s a lot he has to learn about being in a relationship, but he wants to learn it all to be the man you deserve. He is going to treat you like the goddess you are for the rest of his life, he knows it, already planning on picking out a ring, because he’s gonna love you for a long, long time.

[doctorbeth]

A giant bear and a tiny monkey, from the same home!

Back in August a gentleman reached out to me about his wife's giant panda, Edward (Eddie) Bear. He wasn't just giant by breed, but he was actually a giant at about 5 feet from head to toe.

Here are some diagnosis photos:

In addition to stuffing compression, Eddie had quite a few seam issues, and some (not visible) tears. He came to the hospital for a spa and wound repair. Here he is in his bubble bath (he gets the giant tub).:-)

Restuffing took quite a few adjustments to get his shape right, but soon he was restuffed, fur fluffed, wounds repaired, and ready to head home:

Now Eddie headed home and his family was very happy! They wrote:

"Thank you so much, Beth, for providing the excellent care that our boy needed and deserved.

S and I are 100% satisfied with his outcome, so much cleaner, much less slouched and his wounds are all fully healed.

I wonder how many people realize and act on their true calling in life.

I believe I do with my wood working, and I know you do with Realms of Gold."

Nice, yes? But even better... a few weeks later the gentleman's wife reached out. Now that Eddie was better, she wanted to get her husband's companion, Mr. Monkey repaired. She wrote:

"First off let me start by telling you how happy Les and I are with the care you gave Eddie Bear. He is like new again and we are so pleased! 

Sooo, it got me thinking about Mr. Monkey. Mr. Monkey is Les’ child and has definitely seen better days. I have my doubts as to whether he can be helped because of the shape he is in.  But I thought it was worth a try to inquire."

Here are his diagnosis photos, and if you've been a long time reader of my blog, you may guess my response... he's not nearly as bad as you think and we can definitely help him!

The plan was a spa and recovering Mr. Monkey's brown. The brown area was originally knitted (which I don't repair), but we agreed recovering it in a fur or fabric would add to his stability without changing his personality. So he came to the hospital and....

Here he is in his spa:

Much tinier than Eddie, Mr. Monkey is slightly bigger than a hand!

Of course Mr. Monkey (and Eddie) got hearts of original stuffing... here are the two hearts:

There were several fabric options for Mr. Monkey's brown, and his people opted for a thin minky fur. Here he is all better!

Mr. Monkey headed home and when he arrived his family wrote:

"Mr. Monkey is home safe and sound! He looks GREAT! He said he enjoyed being at the hospital, getting such great care from you! By the way he talks, I think he’s quite smitten with you! He says he’ll miss you!  

Anyway, we can’t thank you enough for your TLC and expertise! 

Don’t you love the red bow tie? It came on a Christmas gift and L snatched it and saved it for when Mr. Monkey returned home. "

And here he is looking spiffy in that new bow tie!

[zriasstuff]

Them watching you get ready <3

Slytherin boys x reader fluff headcanons (warning:delulu asf)

the collage isn’t the best, but at least you have all 6 faces now

It’s date-night, but you seem to be taking quite some time to get ready…

Tom Riddle:

Let’s be honest for a second and admit that if you were taking your sweet sweet time, he’d curse at you because everything has to go according to his schedule (i even doubt that he’d do the whole “date-night” thing, but that’s a separate issue)

He’d turn more impatient by the second and barge into your dorm/bathroom without knocking

Tom would rush you so badly and keep telling you to hurry up while rolling his eyes

While you’re doing your makeup he’d pick up each product with disgust and tell you that you look just fine

When you tell him that you need more time, he tells you that there wouldn’t be a date anymore if you didn’t follow him, besides he’d lecture you on your poor time management

Eventually he drags you out with him and dryly compliments you like “see, i told you you look good” (but innerly he enjoyed that you put in effort and wanted to look good for him, even if it took some time)

Mattheo Riddle:

He wouldn’t rush you when you tell him you need more time, instead he’d take advantage of watching you get ready

When you choose your clothes, he’d encourage you to do a little fashion show for him and he would tell you that you looked perfect in every single one

He would tell you to choose a short and tight dress though, we all know why ;)

During make-up he is totally one of those guys who say “it’s all the same shade”, and in reality it’s like maroon and bright red

As a joke he’d also apply some of the products, but wipe them off immediately because he feels too emasculated

When you ask him if you could do make-up on him some day he’d simply reply “sure, but then i would get to do whatever i want with you”

Draco Malfoy:

When you offer him to watch you get ready, since you still aren’t done, he immediately accepts

Draco totally loves seeing you get ready too because during your relationship he has spoiled you so much that half your closet/vanity is basically from him

Since he grew up close to his mother, he has actually spent a lot of time in his childhood going to barbers/salons/boutiques with her

So from that he has gained excellent taste, even helps you with styling your hair, and helps you pick out accessories

He knows how long this stuff can take, so he just takes the time to make you feel beautiful and confident, showering you with compliments and pecks “you look so good in the things i buy you darling”/“you are always so gorgeous and sexy”

Theodore Nott:

He wouldn’t mind that you were not on time, the date started the second he saw you, so you getting ready was just time that you could spend together too

You are afraid it takes away the surprise factor at first, but it’s not a big deal to him

When you start to change into different outfits, he’s always there to help you undress/unzip the dresses, taking the opportunity to smoothly move his hands down your body

That would just eventually turn into a makeout session though, you just couldn’t resist when he was being that touchy and ravishing too

It takes quite some time for you to actually get ready in the end because he always distracts you in the process, but in the end you would both have had a fun time

Blaise Zabini:

He’d be quite chill and sit on your bed when you tell him to wait, just watching you get ready at your vanity

He would maybe be a little bit annoying—asking you every three seconds if you were ready to go, and he would say “you literally look the same as always, what’s the point of all this”

Eventually he liked watching you more and more though, notice the difference, and carefully pay attention to everything you did

He’d learn to appreciate both your natural and “full-glam” beauty and just observe you with interest

As soon as you were done he’d immediately kiss you (ruining your lip-combo sadly) and his lips would be stained, and he’d be smiling, fascinated by your beauty

Lorenzo Berkshire:

When you tell him to wait outside, he’d respect that at first, but would grow impatient eventually

So, he goes up to you and tells you that he would like to be a part of the process

Opposite to Mattheo, he’d actually be down to you putting make-up on his face for fun (he’s fully convinced that he could pull anyone with or without makeup)

To be honest, he didn’t care much about what you put on because you looked hot in his eyes either way, but he knew the more interested he acted the more appreciative you’d be

Looking at you with puppy-eyes at all times is his specialty, and when you’re finally done he looks at you like you’re an angel fallen from heaven

[nereidprinc3ss]

make me late

in which spencer finds a few minutes to spare with fem!reader in the morning

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering (here we go again), 'slutty' is used to describe an action but not by spencer, spencer slaps r's ass one (1) time, (hot), mild overstimulation a/n: apparently need to post at least one fingering fic per week or i'll fucking die. very short and sweet but as always let me know if you like it, i have a crush on all of you!

You’re used to Spencer’s alarm going off early in the morning—typically you tune it out or sleep right through it. Today, however, it rouses you more than usual. You roll over, blinking your eyes open. 

“Sorry,” Spencer mutters, finally turning it off and leaning over to kiss your head. “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him down again when he tries to get out of bed.

“Don’t go,” you beg into his shirt, slinging a leg over him. His hand slips under your (also his) shirt, rubbing the bare skin of your back.

“I have to. You know that.” 

“I just want you to stay for a little bit,” you insist. 

“No you don’t,” he drawls, voice still gravelly with sleep, “You want to make me late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say innocently, burying your face further into his shirt as if you could extinguish the heat in your cheeks. 

His hand drops from your back to reach under your thigh, pushing your underwear to the side. You gasp when his fingers make contact with your soaked core, involuntarily pressing your hips closer. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Stop it! That’s not fair!” You squeal, attempting to wriggle away once you regain your senses. But the bastard wraps his arm around your waist like a vice, forcing you to stay in place as he sinks a finger into you with no preamble. Instead of satisfying him with a vocal response, you keep your face hidden in the crook of his shoulder and remain obstinately silent. When he begins to slowly pump his finger, you’re forced to bite the fabric of his shirt to shut yourself up. 

“If you’re not enjoying yourself, I’ll stop,” he says plainly, but obviously he knows that’s the last thing you want. His ring finger joins the other and your mouth falls open, a tiny, choked breath against his skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

Don’t give in, you say to yourself. Wait. What are you not giving in to? Fuck, that feels good. You hum quietly—an excellent display of self-control considering the noises you’re actively holding back. 

“Are we already getting whiny?”

“‘m not whining,” you bite. 

“You’re always whining.” There’s nothing to do but prove him right when he begins massaging that spot inside you with a practiced stroke of his fingers—the one that makes you arch your back further and spread your legs a little wider—makes you oh-so compliant and all together, a bit slutty. But Spencer has told you that by definition, you’re not a slut if it’s just him who you lose all self-respect around. “My pretty girl feels so good, huh?”

You agree with a mindless mumble, forgetting that you were ever going to try and fight the pleasure. 

“It feels so good.”

“I can tell, baby. Listen to the mess you're making.”

Soft, wet sounds emanate from where you’re probably dripping around his fingers. A moan is muffled by his shoulder as your own fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt and sink into the flesh of his waist—though you doubt he minds. 

“Please don’t stop, please please please—" It’s quiet, almost demure as you plead. 

“You’re so sweet when you get like this,” Spencer coos. “I wish you were always so well-behaved.”

No, he doesn’t. Both of you know he loves fucking the attitude out of you, and at times, back into you. But you’re not in any place to correct him right now, as his fingers slip in and out of you so quickly, exactly where you want to be touched. 

“Oh, right—right there, that’s—oh, god,” you squeak. 

Your face is still nuzzled in his shirt, your voice is still so delicate and weak with sleep, rising in pitch with your pleasure until it breaks. 

“Right here? This is where you need it?”

“Yes,” you practically cry, “I’m gonna come, Spence—” your hips rock back and forth to meet each stroke of his fingers inside you, vision going white with with pleasure. 

“Yeah? My pretty girl is gonna come all over my fingers?”

“Mhm!” You speed up the motion of your hips. He chuckles, which might offend you if you were in your right mind, but it’s early, and you’re tired, and your soul is trying to untether itself from your body. 

“Let me feel it, baby. I wanna feel you coming, can you do that for me?”

A breathy keen rushes from your throat as your orgasm begins to suck you out to sea like a riptide, flooding your lungs and blood and everything with so much easy pleasure you’re barely awake and you don’t care one bit. 

“Uh-huh, good girl,” Spencer murmurs, not letting up with his fingers as you fall through your orgasm. Another choked moan takes you by surprise when his free hand falls with a heavy clap to your ass, before rubbing the stinging flesh. “Let go a little bit longer, baby, I’m right here.”

You’re barely breathing, still seeing stars as he continues to fuck you leisurely with his fingers, more out of pure affection than anything else. Eventually he slips them out, teasing gently over your clit as your stomach tenses. But you let him keep going. You’ll do anything to keep him in bed for a few minutes longer. To that end, you gather enough breath to speak. 

“Can you please fuck me?” 

He hums pityingly, moving his hand from between your legs to lovingly soothe the tender skin he’d slapped just a moment ago. 

“You know I can’t, baby. I shouldn’t have even done this. I really have to get a move on.”

“But you did do this,” you say, eager to point out the fallacies in his argument, “which means you could also have sex with me and we could be really fast and you could just take less time getting ready for work.”

Your chin is now resting on his shoulder as you look up at him with wide, imploring eyes, and he leans down to kiss your nose. 

“The answer is going to stay no, sweet thing. I don’t care how much you beg.”

He’s already gently sliding you off of him and getting out of bed as you pout. A few moments pass, and you can’t think of a good retort as he moves about the room, gathering a towel for his shower and digging through the dresser. 

“You’re mean.”

“Aw, poor baby. You only got to come once. Nobody has ever had a harder life than you.” Spencer dodges the pillow you throw and laughs, coming back to lean over the bed as you glower at him. “I’m sorry I woke you up. If you can’t fall back asleep in the time it takes me to shower, I’ll make you fancy coffee.”

“Fine.”

“And I’ll be extra nice to you when I get home.” He kisses your head and then your lips, and then disappears into the bathroom. 

In a completely predictable turn of events, you’re dead to the world by the time he gets out of the shower. He makes you the fancy coffee anyway, leaving it in a thermos on your nightstand. 

He’s late to work. He can't pretend to be sorry.

[thefallofruins]

“𝑨𝑭𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑴”— [𝑹𝒀𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑼𝑵𝑨]

Synopsis — being Sukuna’s favourite subjects you to relentless bullying. Sukuna reminds you of your place. As his Queen.

Minors DNI Requested by anon. Part of Sukuna x concubine! reader series

Tw: smut, mentions of multiple orgasms, belly bulging, passing out, violence and bloodshed (it’s Sukuna, duh)

Sukuna is a completely different man the day he sees your tears. Ordinarily, he would have laughed at the sight of a human crying, it seems to annoying pathetic when they do so— a sign of weakness, a sign of helplessness.

But not you, no, none of these rules apply to you. You are exempted from it, he doesn’t know why, but the sight of you crying fills him with rage. Maybe because you were his, his property, his precious concubine.

“T-They said that you’ll… discard me off someday.” You sob. The cruel and neglected concubines, though envious, had spoken the truth. He had done that to a lot of others. They held no meaning to him.

But you? You’ve grown too attached. But how could you not? How could you not when this absolute monster, this terrifying being had given you everything the world hadn’t? Affection, pleasure, love?

He had no value of lives that were of no use to him. If they served him no purpose, they would meet death. But how could he discard you? You, who belongs to him, and rightfully so?

“I hold no such intentions.” His voice is stern, he wants to rip those vile wenches apart for causing you this distress. “You…” he lifts your face, squishing your red hued cheeks “…Are mine. I don’t intend on discarding you for this eternity.”

His voice is a low growl as his grip tightens. “You are mine. For this life and the many more to come.”

He lifts you by your arm using his other hand, crouching down to your height. “Do you understand? Only you have the privilege of having me. Not those insects, and you say I’ll abandon you?”

His fingers play with the obi of your loosely held kimono, eliciting a gasp out of you. He buries his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling your scent. “To abandon you will be an act of utter foolishness, and I am no fool.”

He presses a soft kiss to your neck, followed by another on a lower spot. Your kimono slides off your shoulders and onto the ground below.

“Mine.” He growls into your ear, a hand moving to your breast, fitting perfectly into his hands and he kneads it. His other hand finds your cunt, pressing upon the sensitive nub and causing you to gasp softly.

“M-My lord..”

Your sweet voice only gives him a reason to proceed further, pads of his fingers prodding upon your entrance, your juices slowly flowing onto his fingers and he teases your entrance.

“I have made you the sole object of my pleasure and affection…” he says, hearing your sweet noises as he plays with your clit. “…and you dare insinuate that I will abandon you?”

Your wetness flows down his fingers. He knew exactly where to touch you, something he wouldn’t even try to do to the others.

“I’m sorry, m-my lord..” you speak between soft moans. His words filling you with such great pride. He had so excellently removed the doubts plaguing your mind. “I w-won’t assume such trivial things again—”

He chuckles, slowing down his movements to slow circles around your clit. “Mmh— my lord, p-please forgive me.”

A deep chuckle escapes him again, as he speaks, “that I will. Now lay down.”

Without a moment to waste, you do, skin shining under the pale moonlight as you lay on his bed, legs as he strips off his own clothes, his cock standing hard, drops of precum beaded at the tip. He teases your entrance with it, causing you to groan.

“P-Please, my lord…” you whimper, causing him to chuckle again. “Very well.” He answers your plea, slowly entering your tight cunt that welcomes the entire girth he slowly pushes into you. You gasp as you feel the tip nudge your cervix— he was too big, but you always took him so well.

“So tight.” He groans, slowly bringing himself to thrust in and out of your tight heat. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, my lord!” Your moan as he fastens in his pace, hands wrapping around his neck. He is merciless in pounding into your cunt, nudging your cervix till your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin.

“Look at you.” He chuckles darkly. “You’re truly mine. Taking me so damn well, aren’t you?” Any other would have crumbled under how relentless he is, but you take it so well.

Your moans echo in the chambers as you receive the treatment only his favourite deserves. And by the end of it, you are left in a mess. His cock and loads of cum stuffing your poor cunny full, your moans raspy and he releases load after load into you, his thumb playing with your sensitive nub occasionally, his other hands fondling your breasts and toying with your sore nipples.

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms he had pulled from you, and you don’t know how many more are to come. You simply take it, drool dripping down your cheek, nails dug into his skin, cunt pumped full, and brain numb from pure pleasure.

When he finally does stop, a stream of cum runs down your entrance, loosening the bulge in your tummy from the excess of it. He brushes strands of your hair back with surprising gentleness before he captures your lips with his and parts.

“You truly make a magnificent sight, my Queen.”

Queen. Your heart swarms with a warmth. Eyes pricking with tears. You have so much to say but you’re so incredibly worn out you can barely lift a finger.

“Shhh..” he mutters, sensing a towel between your thighs, cleaning the mess up. Then , covering your bare form with the warm blanket, he kisses your forehead. “Mine. My Queen. For all eternity.”

“Rest now, my Queen.” He leaves you be in the chambers, you want him to stay. To hold you and say it again. And again. To call you his Queen. But for now, he has something more important to attend to.

When he returns, you’ve already passed out from the tiredness. He chuckles softly, kissing your forehead. “My only one.”

Too bad you couldn’t see the sight of his bloodstained kimono or hear the screams of terror. But that was a small price to pay for hurting the Queen of Ryomen Sukuna.

[ririblogsss]

Damian and the strays

ok look we all know the de aged dani (Danny and Dan). But what if we have siblings/ triplets, and I mean what if we take them all the same age (15/16) and make them into the most powerful trio in school . I mean you have 3 good looking individuals all siblings and in the same way, they all excel in different things (Dan-world history, Dani/Ellie- science Sports, Danny physics), but they are all so easy going and charming plus they are all jacked af.

Like tell me if i'm wrong but they would be beloved maybe popular on the downlow until they do something only fentons would risk doing. For example, orchestrating that every monday at 12:30 am the fire alarms would start and lunch would be extended for an hour more. No one can prove it, but none of them have doubts either. The triplets have their own groups but they mainly hang out with each other if you see one the other 2 are close by. 

Anyways i'm thinking that one day they will actually see why the Fenton siblings are observed closely by the teacher and try to make sure they don't cause mayhem.  One guy, a chad of sorts, decided he wanted to pick a fight with Dante, the more violent of the siblings. Chad didn't even finish his first insult before he was slammed through the door by Danny, who was arguably the pacifist of the 3. But the student body kind of got it. The thing is no one expected Dani (preferred name Ellie) to freaking pummel the guy.

No one saw them at school again. 

It went on like this: the trio would move to one school.Would play pranks on the administration and have fun. Then someone would try something on one of them and the other 2 would pummel the person into the ground. The next day they would be gone never to return. They became an urban legend in some of the schools. 

Until they came to Gotham Academy when they tried their pranks a kid would come and stop them. It was getting on their nerves. All their freaking plans down the drain all because of a snobby brat that didn't know how to mind his own.  Eventually they start pranking the kid instead of the school as a revenge for ruining their fun. This leads to an all out prank war between all 4 of them (Dan backstabbed Danny and Ellie first they just followed the lead). 

Soon enough the 3 of them became friends with Damian (they learned his name 4 weeks after the prank war started). The school body was half convinced that Damian and the triplets were actually long lost siblings. I mean they all have black hair, anger issues and green bluish eyes. Damian knew for a fact that he wasn't related to the Fentons; a DNA test concluded this. But that didn't mean that Damian didn't perceive the triplets as family. 

Damian concludes that even if they aren't adopted into the family the Fentons belong. So that's why one day Damian brings Ellie, Danny and Dante to the family reunion. Where every relative and not so relative is there. Damian is showing them around, pointing at things around the house as a mini tour, and people are starting to notice that there are 3 new faces that they have never seen before. 

there are whispers like: ‘really?! AGAIN?!?’ or “WOW im gone for 5 days and he got 3 more”  and even  ‘Damn so black hair, teen and probably sad backstory is the type’

The triplets looked at eachother looked at Damian and smiled like starved piranhas that have just been served a pound of meat and are ready to devore. Damian reflects it with his own devilish smile.

 So all four of them start saying things out of context such as: 

“I'm so glad to be here now” 

“Yeah same we wouldn't have survived that hell of a chamber without you Dames”

“As long as we're no longer hunted for merely existing I don't mind staying for a while”

“Good things there weren't any actual bazookas that could have gone worse”

All four knew that out of context it seemed like the 3 siblings had been hunted and captured by some unknown person and Damian had rescued them and brought them home, but in reality they were just talking about the past paintball match they had earlier that morning. 

So Bruce wanted to know some more but the rhetorical bullet, and asked “Damian… who, who are these kids” Damian proceeded to scoff and say “Why our new family members, truly father, are you incompetent. This is a family reunion hence only family or perceived family is invited” Damian tried to channel his inner 10 year old self whilst trying not to laugh. Danny and Ellie were on the same boat except they made their faces look devastated with tears in their eyes and everything looked pitiful, but on the inside they were laughing their asses off. Dante feigned indifference but he had teary eyes, from trying to stop himself from hitting the floor laughing at the devastated faces around. 

Danny played his act up clearing his throat “we- we can leave if I mean we didn't know, yeah Dami said it was fine but we understand” he purposely made his voice crack to show how ‘hurt’ he was. 

Ellie made herself look small so she could seem self conscious and uncomfortable with the situation. 

Dante solidified them with the small sniffles he let out every few seconds. 

Damian was looking to the ground to avoid being read, because right now he was shaking from laughter, and it would be clear in his face but if he angled himself right (which he did) it looked like he was silently sobbing. Danny put his arm around his shoulder, also looking towards the ground, also shaking from laughter. Dante and Ellie joined in. From an outside perspective it looked like they were extremely upset not being able to be family. 

Bruce panicked seeing his younger child and 3 other kids the same age all begin to cry he just blurted out “NO no that not what i meant Damian I ment their names what are their names, and does Babs have to get involved so we can have documentation”

Damian cleared his tears and looked up at his father trying not to smirk “He is Dante, that one is Dani with an I but she prefers Ellie and that lanky one is Danny” Bruce nodded and went out the room to see if he could get started on the documents. 

Once Bruce was out of the room all 4 of them burst out laughing, falling into a pile some were heard wheezing, others having maniacal laughter. 

Once they finally stopped and looked at the rest of the family all four of them eerily said “he won't ever believe you” And everyone in the room shuddered. This quartet was going to bring wayyyy too much mischief into the family. 

(if you're wondering where jazz is. She's in college living her best life. I mean she is a highly independent person she thrives of off living alone with a clear schedule set)

—

Also i didn't put any specific names for the previous schools or the family members bc I thought it would be better for u guys to decide who witnessed the beginning of the end. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP: The Real Blood Son

It's a year after Damian came to live with them that he decides it is an excellent time to bombard Bruce with his news.

"I had a blood brother." He says to Tim after the other commented how important blood meant to Bruce-ie, not enough to make him get rid of his other sons. "He was the first from the artificial womb mother made with Father's DNA; however, he was disposed of once his heart condition became known. I highly doubt you will last even twice as long Drake-"

"What"

Bruce didn't know that he could make his voice that cold. That dead. What in the world does he mean disposed.

Damian goes still. The kind of still where he isn't sure if he just earned a punishment and is trying not to react to the fear. "My elder brother. Did mother not inform you?"

"Damian," Bruce struggles to level his tone at Dick's hard stare. "She hadn't even informed me of you. Please, can you explain more about your brother."

The youngest nods. "He had no name, but he was my biological brother. He was forced to grow to age of three before they realized he was defective. Grandfather had him sacrificed to the pit."

Jason growls "what do you mean?"

Damian looks confused- as confused as he can with his league training kicking in. "The Lazarus pit is made from the bodies of young virgins. No older then ten. They are sacrificed in exchange for the Infinite Realms' power to sink into the water. The children are not aware of what is happening to them until the very end. They do not suffer."

Bruce feels sick.

They talk a bit more, on how certain followers throughout history were more then happy to offer the great Ra's their own children to renew the pit. How Damain had watched three children when he was seven be sacrifice- it happened every five years- and how the children were given the best week of their lives.

They purposely given the most joy they could feel before the blades to make the Pit as pure as possible. He talked a lot about watching the youngest- five years- be laughing and splashing in the Lazarus water before his mother cut him down, his screams drowning in the green liquid.

"They say the Pit absorbs the last emotion of the sacrifice. Grandfather hopes the children realize the importance and honor they have to be ended for a glorious cause, but occasionally a few are disloyal. When Todd had taken a dip, the previous Renew, had a brilliant girl who figured out what was happening and attempted to escape. She failed, of course, and her arm was amputated in a mission, but she died angry. That's why Todd had such strong madness compared to-!"

"SHUT UP!" Jason roars suddenly, eyes glowing green, and for a brief moment, Bruce swears he hears an undertone of a young girl in his scream "SHUT UP! YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING! YOUR OWN BROTHER IS IN THERE"

Damain scowls "it's a honor. My brother's body was defective. But he at least had aidded in a glorious ritual."

Bruce can't help it; he leans over the BatCave Railing and hurls his dinner. Damian finally realizes that something is wrong.

They host a funeral for his three-year-old son, who died without a name, and place his gravestone next to his parents. They explain to Damian why the Renewal ritual is horrific but Bruce feels it take years before his son can see that.

Jason, went out into Crime Alley to let off some steam and had been going on a rampage against the underbelly of Gotham. He can't find it I'm himself to stop him.

Bruce asks Constantine to come over and do a small ritual, to hopefully unbound his child and let his son soul move on. Constantine warns that with the kid's name it may not work and that they could only free souls they share blood to but the English man tries anyway.

They send his son their prayers, and hopes. And they try to put him to rest.

Across the Infinite Releams to three dimensions to the right of the Wayne's soul resting ritual, The Fenton's adoptived son, Danny Fenton jolts in his English Class.

The strange stabbing scar above his heart- which is why he never takes off his shirt- burns then cools as if someone had tried to place the temperature-changing ointment. He rubs his best, confused.

What was that?

He'll have to check with FrostBite. Maybe his heart condition is acting up again. It happens every five years even though no doctors his parents have taken him to could figure out what it was.

Until Frostbite. The yeti claimed it had something to do with dark arts, but he's unsure what type.

Frostbite is still doing more testing.

"I wish you had lived, brother. I wish I knew you name"

The wind whispers, and Danny feels a flash of deep longing and grief before it's gone. Yeah, he needs to talk to Frostbite.

[sebscore]

EXCUSE ME

pairings: lewis hamilton x driver!reader

warnings: LEWIS GOING TO FERRARI !!!!!! also there is swearing in this.

author's note: i have finally risen from the death. gzd is back, baby!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

The knocking on his apartment door confused Lewis, not expecting anyone that day. He walked over to the front, and looked through the peephole, frowning at the sight of his younger colleague.

He opened the door. ''Y/N? Hey, how are yo-''

The young woman didn't spare him a glance, walking right past him. ''You are going to fucking Ferrari?!'' She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Lewis stood there, momentarily stunned, as Y/N breezed past him into his home. He quickly closed the door, while shushing her. ''How do you know about that? How did you even get into the building? I didn't buzz you in.''

''Nico's daughter did, but that's not the point.'' She brushed his latter question off.

''Y/N, she's six.'' He stated, hoping his fellow driver was joking.

''Don't switch topics! You're going to Ferrari, it's actually true?'' She continued probing, absolutely in disbelief about the news she had received.

The man sighed, glancing around as if someone else was there that would be able to hear them. ''Yeah, in 2025.'' Lewis confirmed.

''Oh my fucking God…'' Y/N slowly sank down on his couch, in shock at the news of him leaving Mercedes the following season. ''Lewis, this is huge.''

He carefully nodded. ''How do you know this? I've barely told anyone, not even Toto knows.'' There had been a permanent frown on his face the moment she knocked on his door.

She smirked. ''Sorry, my sources stay with me.''

Lewis narrowed his eyes at her. ''I won't tell anyone. I'm excellent at keeping secrets.'' The Brit grinned.

''Yeah, clearly.'' Y/N teasingly scoffed, receiving a light push from the World Champion. ''But, dude, this is massive!''

The World Champion simply chuckled at her response, loving the dramatics.

''Lewis, this is like Zayn leaving One Direction! Like when this news drops, everyone will remember where they were on the day that Lewis 'The Great' Hamilton joined Ferrari!'' Lewis just watched on as he let the woman deliver her monologue, enjoying himself.

''Does Nico know?'' She asked him, the face of the German suddenly popping into her mind.

He shook his head, laughing in confusion. ''No, why would he?''

She shrugged her shoulders. ''To rub it in his face, I don't know.''

Lewis chuckled, feeling a tension that always resurfaced whenever his former best friend's name was brought up. ''You're a funny girl.''

She leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms, still wearing that playful smirk. "Oh, come on! Picture this: you strolling into the Ferrari hospitality, shades on, and casually waving at Nico like, 'Hey mate, look where I landed.' That would be fucking epic.''

The Brit arched an eyebrow. ''I doubt he cares that much.''

Y/N's jaw dropped, exaggerating her response. ''Lewis, it's Britney we're talking about. The biggest yapper of all time. Of course he cares.''

Lewis burst into laughter at the ''yapping'' comment, unable to resist her infectious enthusiasm. ''Does Nico know you talk about him like this?''

She shot him a sly look. ''Maybe, maybe not. But I can just imagine all the articles already. Oh! Imagine he takes your Merc seat! Anything is possible at this point!''

He shook his head, but was still smiling. ''You're on the internet too much.''

''Okay, boomer, and you aren't on the internet enough.'' Y/N retorted.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. "Boomer? Seriously? I'm not that old.'' He gasped.

"Well, you're old in internet years, Lewis.'' She smiled, innocently.

''You're one insult away from being thrown out of my house.''

''Hey, Lewis.'' 

''Hey, Pierre. How are you doing?'' He greeted the younger man on the phone. 

Lewis could hear him scratch his voice. ''So, Ferrari, huh?'' Pierre smirked. 

''Not you too!'' The Brit exclaimed, sighing loudly, much to the Frenchman's amusement. ''Where did you get this from?'' He asked. 

Pierre snickered. ''I can't tell you that.'' 

''It was Y/N, wasn't it?'' 

''Yeah…''