#anyway. I love him. he looks so handsome.

[daxisyzz]

Lost for words

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Bucky can't keep his hands to himself while your on a call with Yelena, wanting all your attention, making you lose your focus.

Based off this prompt from Pinterest

Word count: 3.1k+ (I kinda got too into it lol)

Warnings and tags: Clingy Bucky, he's a menace, Yelena mentioned (bestfriend), neck kisses, more kisses, Bucky is basically touch starved, cute relationship dynamics, Bucky can't keep his hands off of you.

A/n: this is my little treat for my 100 followers milestone. Thank you guys!! Enjoy the fic!!

Love you guys <3

Ps. Go read chapter 1 of my new series Business Proposal ♡

Also requests are open.. feel free to send 'em.!!

You liked to think of your apartment as a sanctuary. Sure, the walls were a little thin, and the paint on the windowsill was starting to peel, but it was yours. A cozy home that smelled of vanilla-scented candles, fresh laundry, and the faint aroma of Bucky’s cologne that seemed to linger everywhere these days.

Most days, Bucky Barnes, your sometimes frustrating, always handsome boyfriend—respected that sense of peace. After all, you’d established a routine of sorts: quiet mornings sipping coffee together, mid-day breaks where he’d slip away for a run or to tinker with something mechanical in the spare room, and lazy evenings spent on the couch binge-watching the latest Netflix series.

But today, it seemed, he had other ideas. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, your phone pressed to your ear, talking to Yelena Belova—your best friend, occasional partner-in-crime, and the only person who could drag you into the most unexpected of situations. Today’s phone call was nothing dramatic, though. She was simply updating you on her day, complaining about a near-disastrous grocery trip, while you nodded and made little sounds of sympathy at all the right times.

It started out innocently enough: Bucky roaming into the kitchen, glancing your way, flashing you a quick grin. You raised your eyebrows in greeting, mouthing I’m on the phone, which typically was code for don’t do anything weird. He gave a small salute, as if to say Understood, ma’am, and disappeared around the corner.

But then, just as Yelena began launching into a story about the horrors of supermarket lines and fighting an old lady for pickles, you felt the faintest brush of warmth at your back. At first, you thought you were imagining it. You continued listening, your phone tucked snugly against your ear. But then a hand—large, warm, and far too confident, settled on your hip. You startled, nearly dropping the phone in surprise.

“Bucky,” you whispered, craning your neck to look at him. He was standing behind you, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “I’m on the phone,” you mouthed.

He only grinned in response, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. His voice, when he leaned in, was barely above a murmur. “I know.”

You shot him a pointed glare, one that said Behave yourself. But Bucky, of course, had never been particularly good at following that order.

Yelena’s voice in your ear continued, completely unaware. “So anyway, the cashier looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo for buying that much hot sauce. But it’s not my fault the best brand was on sale—are you even listening?”

“Yes,” you managed, voice slightly strained, “I’m listening. Sorry, I just—”

Bucky took that moment to press closer, his chest aligning perfectly with your back. The warmth of him was impossible to ignore. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, a barely-there touch that sent a chill of awareness down your spine. The phone nearly slipped from your fingers.

“Everything okay?” Yelena asked, clearly catching the odd shift in your tone.

“Fine,” you said too quickly. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force yourself to focus. “Just, uh… I spilled something. Go on.”

You felt, rather heard Bucky’s chuckle against you. His arms slid around your waist, locking you in place. Slowly, he lowered his head to the crook of your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. It was so light you might have imagined it—if not for the way your entire body tingled in response.

You could practically hear Yelena’s eyebrow arching on the other end of the line. “You sure you’re not busy? I can let you go if you’re… preoccupied.”

“No, no,” you insisted, ignoring Bucky’s soft hum of amusement. “I’m not preoccupied. Really, I’m—” You sucked in a sharp breath as Bucky’s lips dragged across your skin, teasingly slow. “I’m good,” you finished, sounding decidedly not good.

Bucky was a menace. You realized that with startling clarity. He was enjoying every second of this, too—the way your breath hitched, the way your shoulders stiffened when he kissed just behind your ear. If he’d come in loud and obvious, you could have pushed him away, shot him a glare, or at least excused yourself from the call. But this was worse. He was stealthy, methodical, lulling you into a trap with that soft voice, gentle kisses, and the faint scrape of his stubble against your neck.

And oh, you were definitely trapped.

“Let me guess,” Yelena said, suspicion in her tone, “Bucky’s there, isn’t he?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Bucky took advantage of your silence, kissing a trail from the base of your neck up toward your jaw, each press of his lips making your heart pound harder.

"Uh,” you managed, “maybe.”

Yelena barked a laugh. “That’s a yes. Put me on speaker. I want to say hi.”

You stared at Bucky, who gave you a quizzical tilt of his head, as if to say What’s she saying? For a second, you debated whether or not to do as Yelena asked. If you put the call on speaker, she’d hear every little sound: the rustle of Bucky’s clothes against yours, the husky laughter you were certain would spill from his lips at any moment. But you couldn’t exactly refuse her, not without raising even more suspicion.

Reluctantly, you tapped the speaker icon. “Yelena, you’re on speaker,” you said, trying to sound composed. It was a losing battle.

“Barnes,” Yelena said, her tone mocking, “are you bothering my best friend again?”

Bucky cleared his throat. You felt the rumble of it against your back. “I wouldn’t call it bothering,” he said. His voice was low, smooth as silk. “I’m just showing her a little attention.”

You could practically see Yelena rolling her eyes. “She’s on the phone, you know. With me. Some people might say that’s rude.”

Bucky’s grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Rude, maybe,” he allowed, “but she’s been ignoring me all day. I had to get her attention somehow.”

You wanted to defend yourself, but the words lodged in your throat as Bucky nuzzled against the side of your neck again. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you had to bite your lip to keep from making any embarrassing sounds.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Yelena said, her amusement obvious. “You’re tormenting her.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin. “Torment’s a strong word.”

“That’s because it is torment,” you finally managed, your voice shaky. “He’s being insufferable.”

Bucky hummed. “You don’t sound too unhappy about it, doll.”

You could hear Yelena snort. “I’ll let you two figure this out. Call me back when Barnes isn’t acting like a cat in heat.”

You tried not to laugh, but the giggle bubbled up anyway, half from the absurdity of the situation, half from your own flustered state. “Okay, okay. Talk to you later.”

The moment you hung up, Bucky wasted no time. He spun you around in his arms so that you were facing him, your phone clutched tightly in one hand. He wore a cocky grin that made you want to kiss him and slap that grin away, all at once.

“You have the worst timing,” you scolded, although your voice trembled with laughter.

He shrugged, not the least bit repentant. “You looked too adorable not to bother.”

You tried to arch an eyebrow in disapproval, but your heart wasn’t in it. Not when Bucky was looking at you like that, with those soft eyes and that infuriatingly handsome smirk. “I was on the phone.”

He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “I noticed.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you grumbled, but you didn’t pull away when he ducked his head to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

His hands settled on your hips, drawing you closer. “I learned from the best.”

Despite yourself, you melted into the kiss, letting the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips chase away your frustration. It was impossible to stay mad at him for long. Not when he kissed you like he was savoring every second.

When you finally pulled away, you were breathless. “I swear, you’re worse than Yelena sometimes.”

He laughed. “High praise.”

You tried to scowl, but the affection in his gaze made it impossible. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He pressed a playful kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll take it.”

Later, you found yourself curled up on the couch, scrolling through messages on your phone. Yelena had sent a few texts, each more teasing than the last. You alive? Surviving Barnes’s torment? You typed back a quick reply: Barely. But yes. Thanks for leaving me high and dry.

Bucky appeared in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets. “Need any help fending off Yelena’s jokes?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who gave her ammunition.”

He smirked, coming over to flop onto the couch beside you. “True. But I’m also the one who can help you forget about it.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “How exactly?”He reached out, plucking your phone from your hand. “By stealing your phone, for starters.” He tossed it onto the coffee table, far out of reach.

“Bucky!” You reached for it, but he caught your wrist, tugging you closer until you fell against his chest.

“You work too hard,” he said, settling you against him. “And you spend too much time on your phone. I’m just making sure you take a break.”

You snorted. “A break from Yelena’s teasing, or from your own mischief?”

He shrugged, running a hand up and down your arm. “Maybe both. Besides, I like having your full attention.”

“You had it in the kitchen,” you pointed out. “Remember? You nearly made me drop the phone.”

His smile widened, and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he laughed. “That was different. Now you can actually enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his fingers slid beneath your chin, guiding you into a kiss. It was slow, deep, and achingly sweet, every bit of teasing replaced by genuine warmth. Your annoyance melted away, replaced by a comfortable haze that made you forget anything beyond the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, he traced a thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry if I bothered you,” he said softly, though there was still a playful glint in his eyes. “You know I can’t help it sometimes.”

You brushed your lips over his knuckles. “I know. And… I don’t actually mind.”

His grin turned lopsided. “You say that now, but wait until next time.”

You let out a mock groan, shoving him lightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Never,” he promised, though the twinkle in his gaze suggested otherwise.

A little while later, you found yourself in the kitchen again, rinsing dishes from a late lunch. Bucky hovered nearby, drying each plate you handed him. The domestic routine was soothing—until he decided to nudge you with his hip, nearly making you drop a fork.

“Seriously?” You glared at him, though you struggled to keep a straight face.

“What?” He feigned innocence. “My hand slipped.”

You snorted. “Sure it did.”

He set the plate aside, then stepped closer, the warmth of his body pressing against your back. You felt his breath on your neck again, and your heart kicked up a notch, recalling how he’d distracted you earlier. His lips grazed your ear.

“You’re adorable when you’re annoyed,” he murmured.

“Funny,” you replied, fighting a grin, “I was thinking you’re adorable when you’re not annoying me.”

He laughed quietly, nuzzling into your hair. “You still love me.”

With a soft sigh, you turned in his arms, letting the water run. “I do,” you admitted, resting your hands on his shoulders. “But you have to promise not to sabotage any more phone calls.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I can promise to try.”

You knew that was the best you’d get. Rolling your eyes, you leaned in to kiss him, the warm press of his lips sending a pleasant hum through your body.

A sudden buzz echoed in the kitchen, and you both turned to see your phone vibrating on the counter. Yelena’s name flashed across the screen. Bucky grinned, lifting a brow. “Round two?”

You huffed, reaching for the phone. “Don’t you dare.”

He put his hands up in surrender, stepping aside with an exaggerated show of good behavior. You picked up the call, putting it on speaker before you could change your mind.

Yelena’s voice came through loud and clear. “Hey, troublemaker. You done making out with Barnes?”

Your cheeks flamed. “That was quick. And you’re the troublemaker.”

“Details, details,” she quipped. “Anyway, I was thinking about that recipe I mentioned earlier—”

“Oh, right. The spicy pickle challenge,” you said, glad to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

“Exactly. I need your help. I can’t figure out if I should make them into some kind of hot sauce, or if I should try a marinade. But I need to test it on someone who’s not me. You in?”

You glanced at Bucky, who mouthed, Absolutely not. Smirking, you replied, “Sure, why not?”

Yelena laughed. “Perfect. I’ll text you the details. And by the way, I’m bringing extra pickles so no old ladies can steal them from me.”

Bucky cleared his throat, stepping closer to the phone. “You’re not going to drag her into any fights, are you?”

“No promises,” Yelena shot back, then paused. “You being nice to her, Barnes? Or do I need to show up and save her?”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to you, a playful challenge in his eyes. “She doesn’t need rescuing from me.”

You decided to intervene before Yelena got any ideas. “Alright, enough bickering. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Fine,” she replied with a dramatic sigh. “But if he bugs you again, you call me.”

“Will do,” you said, rolling your eyes affectionately.

The call ended, and you braced yourself for another round of teasing, but Bucky just slipped his arms around your waist, looking surprisingly thoughtful. You looped your arms around his neck.

“You know,” he murmured, “I like seeing you happy. Even if it means occasionally getting on your nerves.” A warm flush spread through you. There was that sincerity again, the undercurrent of genuine care that anchored all his playful chaos. “You make me happy,” you said softly.

He brushed a stray hair from your face. “Good.”

That evening, you and Bucky ventured out for a walk. The late sunlight gilded the buildings, and a gentle breeze ruffled your hair. With your hands intertwined, the two of you wandered the streets, content to let the conversation flow.

He told you about his latest hobby—fixing up an old motorcycle he’d found cheap online—and you filled him in on Yelena’s plan to experiment with spicy recipes. Every so often, he’d nudge your shoulder or lean in to press a quick kiss to your temple, as if he couldn’t go too long without touching you.

Eventually, you ducked into a small corner café that you both loved. You ordered dessert first, justifying it with a laugh: “Life’s too short not to have cake for dinner.” Bucky agreed wholeheartedly, paying for your order and guiding you to a cozy table by the window.

Once seated, he studied you from across the table, fingers drumming idly on the surface. “So,” he said, “am I forgiven for earlier?”

You tilted your head. “I don’t know. You did cause me a lot of embarrassment in front of Yelena.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling. “Try it and see.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice that made your heart flutter. “For distracting you while you were on the phone.”

Your smile widened. “And?"

He reached across the table to take your hand. “And for enjoying it so much.”

You squeezed his hand, unable to keep the fondness out of your eyes. “Apology accepted, menace.”

The café door chimed, and a few more customers wandered in. You sipped your drink, relaxing in the warm atmosphere. Bucky kept your hand in his, occasionally rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

When your cake arrived, you split it, laughing as he stole the larger piece. He offered you a bite from his fork in apology, and you leaned forward, letting him feed you.

“Good?” he asked, eyes bright.

“Delicious,” you managed, savoring the sweetness.

He watched you with open admiration. “I like seeing you happy,” he repeated again, his voice softer now.

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I’m happy because I’m with you.”

He held your gaze, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away. You saw the man beneath the mischief—the one who cared so deeply, who’d learned to laugh again despite the shadows of his past.

“You know,” he said, clearing his throat, “I never thought I’d have this. Someone to tease, someone who gives it right back. Someone whom i could becso free with.”

Your heart clenched with affection. “And now you do.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “Now I do.”

When you finally left the café, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in dusky blues and pinks. Bucky’s arm looped around your waist as you headed home, the city lights flickering on around you.

You strolled in comfortable silence until you reached your apartment. Once inside, you both kicked off your shoes and made a beeline for the couch. He settled in first, patting the cushion beside him in invitation.

“Come here,” he said, and you sank down, letting him pull you into his side.

He grabbed the remote, but instead of changing the broadcast, he clicked it off. The apartment went quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic through the window. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his steady breath.

After a moment, he turned to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For this. For us.”

You smiled into his shirt. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

He tilted your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “I want to,” he said, and the quiet sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten with emotion.

You reached up, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Well, you’re welcome, then.”

He bent down, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise—of laughter, of mischief, of all the little moments that made up a life together. You let yourself sink into it, letting the warmth of his body and the softness of his mouth fill your senses.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless. He smoothed a hand over your hair, cradling you against him. “We should do something fun tomorrow,” he said. “Before you go help Yelena with her spicy pickles.”

You chuckled, snuggling closer. “Sure. But only if you behave the next time I’m on the phone.”

His laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’ll do my best, doll.” You didn’t quite believe him—but then again, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the end, Bucky was a whirlwind of affection and playfulness, and though you sometimes pretended to protest, you secretly relished every teasing moment. Because beneath the jokes and the stolen kisses, there was a profound sense of belonging that tied you together.

As the evening came by, you drifted off in his arms, content and warm. The memory of his soft laughter echoed in your mind, reminding you that even when he was a menace, he was yours—and you were his. And that was all that mattered.

[aainiouu]

A tethered mind free from the lies

Hen Wilson loves Evan Buckley, it’s just a fact. He is like a little brother to her and she just… loves him. Fiercely. She wants to know things that go on in his life, he wants to hear stuff and likes when Buck asks for her advice. Sure she teases him and gives him grief, but the bottom line is that there is a little Hen wouldn’t do for Buck.

But this? This is something she would have never imagined she would have to and never wanted to do.

“Tommy! You have to stay awake!” Hen yells and Tommy’s glassy eyes turn to her. The helicopter is a flaming husk of debris a safe distance away and Hen is aching all over and the blood is seeping somewhere on her scalp but somehow Tommy had made sure their crash landing didn’t hurt her too badly.

And then had the absolute audacity to demand Hen to leave him there. No way. She wasn’t planning to do that.

The concerning thing is that even if Hen did get Tommy out the situation is not good. In fact it’s possibly catastrophic, but it’s dark and even though Hen patched Tommy up to the best of her ability, it might not be enough.

But if it’s not enough she has to be the one to tell Buck so Hen isn’t giving up anytime soon. Not that she would anyway. Everybody always forgets that Tommy was her and Chim’s friend first.

“This isn’t looking too good, Hen,” Tommy coughs out, “My dad always said I would get myself killed, it seems like he got his wish”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy, you’re not dying here.” Hen grits out and puts on more fabric around the stick (a branch really) poking out Tommy’s abdomen. Hen doesn’t know how Tommy manages it but the look and the scoff he gives her tell exactly how little he believes that.

“Hen, you have to tell Evan..” Tommy starts but Hen shuts him up with a look.

“I’m not telling the lover boy anything because you are going to tell him yourself.” Hen can feel the panic clawing up her throat but she needs to say on top of it. Tommy needs to survive this.

“No, please, Hen, I need to..” Tommy swallows and for Hen’s horror his eyes fill up tears. “I need him to know. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love Evan.”

Hen takes Tommy’s hand which is shaking, clammy and covered with blood. Tommy’s breath is shaking too and Hen feels herself tear up as well.

“Tell me about your Evan, Tommy,” she says and gently swipes Tommy’s hair from his forehead. Tommy smiles and looks at the sky. The fire paints his features strong, sharp but the look on his face makes him look boyish somehow. Tommy is a very handsome man, even crying and covered with blood.

“Evan, is, god, he showed me what could be. I never… I never thought I would get that, I still don’t not really, not the way we keep… we keep messing it up. But he showed me what could be.”

Hen smiles and keeps the pressure on Tommy’s wound, it’s still bleeding sluggishly, but the pulse she can feel on Tommy’s wrist is still going pleasantly strong.

”He’s the one I didn’t see coming, god, someone so light, so good, so gorgeous, so adorable, I didn’t know they made them like that.”

Hen can help but snort and Tommy somehow manages to pinch her hand slightly.

“He has so much life in him, so much love. He is simultaneously so giving with it, it scares me but also so careful on how it is received, it kills me.” Tommy turns his gaze back to her and the sheer adoration on Tommy’s face makes it hard to look away. “I don’t deserve it, I never have but god how I wish… I wish I could. I’ve never met anyone like him, I doubt there is anyone like him to meet. Not to me.”

“You do deserve it, Tommy.” Hen says quietly and the disbelieving laugh Tommy let’s out makes her heart hurt, “You do. Hell, don’t believe me, but believe Buck. The boy is crazy about you. If I let you die here, he’s never going to forgive me.”

“He will, Hen, he would never hold a grudge.”

“He won’t because I’m not letting you die.”

Tommy’s hmms and coughs wetly.

“I’m cold, Hen, and it’s not really hurting anymore and we both know it’s not a good sign.” Tommy grunts. “God, I would give everything to feel Evan’s arms around me right now, he’s like a furnace, a big, gorgeous, clingy furnace. I never felt cold sleeping with him.”

Hen takes off her jacket and lays it on the top of Tommy.

“I just want to see him again, I want to tell him…I—”

Tommy’s eyes slip closed and at the same moment a ray of light reaches them and someone runs towards them. Someone big, not careful, someone shouting their names on the top of their lungs, voice hoarse, panicked and wet.

It’s Buck.

Tommy’s pulse gets weaker and then it’s gone.

[skeletonh0e]

Okay, how about this? The Skeletons with a S/O That really like wearing collars; does not matter if it has bells or spikes. They just Like to wear one for style purposes specifically, and it makes them feel pretty/handsome and it makes them happy. (Love your stuff on swap sans btw, no one has made me this food in years.)

Oooo reminds me of me in high-school, I chokers all the time. Not so much anymore though

And thank you! I love my boy Swap, I'm always happy to provide, anyway-

The boys & Your Fashion Sense

Classic Sans:

Neat

All he has to say on it really, nothing to choke out about ya know? (da dum tss)

Might wanna be careful with spikes though, he'll forget you're wearing it when he nuzzles up to you

He'll probably crack outs when you wear one with bells tbh

Also might play with the bell purely for the lolz

Underswap Sans:

Actually thinks they're really cool!

Always compliments you! Especially when you wear a new one!

Show him your entire collar collection, he'll in awe

Also helps him decide which ones to get when he buys you ones

Let's just say your collection definitely grows thanks to him

Underfell Sans:

Given the general aesthetic of his underground, probably doesn't notice it as anything special until he's been with you a bit them it's just

"what are you? a god damn dog?"

Not convinced that it's not a kink thing but yeah you do you

They are kinda hot he'll admit

Jokes about getting you a lease and might actually tug on your collar when he wants your attention so be careful

Underlust Sans:

Oooo! You two can match!

Of course there's his whole underground gimmick, but he does actually like them for style purposes too

So yeah you're in good company here

The type to buy you matching pairs to wear and also buy you new ones

You're both gonna be looking and feeling fabulous together!

Horrortale Sans:

Doesn't really get it

Like yeah you look nice but also you could wear a trash bag and he'd think that

Axe is not the most fashion savvy person out there, if the fact he wears a blood stained shirt 9/10 didn't give that away

He does like the ones with the bell though so there's that

Might ask if those are uncomfortable depending how often you wear them, more out of concern than anything

Fresh Sans:

Have you seen how this man dresses?

Bro has no right to judge (not that he would anyway but yeah)

Does thing they're pretty neat though

Can he decorate one for you? 👉👈

Don't say yes unless you're willing to wear a rainbow collare with a fuzzy worm with googly eyes attached to it

Killer Sans:

"Hot."

Killer is tactful as always

He's a little shit and gonna be making jokes about you being his pet, like Fell jokes about getting you a lease but this man actually does it then just attaches it to the collar your wearing atm

Bro is just a straight up little shit alright

And yeah this man does grab your collar and pull at it to drag you somewhere. Again. He's a shithead.

Dusttale Sans:

Doesn't get it, but more for sensory reasons than anything

Dust doesn't care for extremely restrictive clothing, so he's just confused on how those don't bother you

If it were him he'd be constantly trying to rip it off

He'll just take your word for it that you do genuinely like them

Pls take it off so he shove his face into the crook of your neck during cuddles tho?

Nightmare Sans:

Also....doesn't really get it

You look good yes but he doesn't get the purpose of them even if you explain the style for him

Whatever, he'll humor it on occasion, buys you more and helps you pick out certain outfits

Forbids you from wearing them at certain gatherings and places though, he's always been a bit controlling about what you wear

Despite that though....does admit you look good

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

James Potter was used to be everyone's savior. It was simple: he saw someone sad, they told him what was wrong and he tried to help, or at least give a good advice.

It was a hero complex that made him be generous because it wasn't fair that he had everything and others didn't.

James Potter was especially used to be Sirius's savior. Because the boy had taught him that sometimes family wasn't love, and sometimes there weren't things that could be fixed.

But James Potter was determined to always have a lifesaver for Sirius. Sometimes it was a deep conversation. Sometimes it was making him laugh with silly distractions. Sometimes it was getting drunk until it was too hard to remember what was wrong.

And James Potter loved fixing Sirius Black.

Lately, James felt useless for his best friend. And that was killing him slowly. They used to be like dirt and grime, until Remus appeared in their lives.

First of all, James was jealous of how close they were and their friendship. But then he genuinely liked Remus and he understood why Sirius liked him so much. Remus became a Marauder even.

Then over the summer, Sirius had a problem with his family. Besides the evident bruises that Euphemia had to fix, James wasn't told about the details. Sirius secretly talked to Effie. And probably talked to Remus. Not with James. His suppossed best friend.

That started the breaking point. James didn't know he could feel this way about Sirius. Never! But right now he was scared of not being his best friend anymore. He was scared of losing Sirius forever. And he bloody missed him!

"So, you're staying in the castle this weekend?"

James asked that morning because they had some time alone. Finally. Sirius was looking everywhere but James. His heart was aching.

"Yeah it is not my fault I have detention"

"So, it was Remus who planned the prank?" James put his hands inside his pockets.

Sirius was looking for something on his drawer.

"We both did"

James knew him pretty well. Sirius was nervous.

James smiled and nodded despite the fact that Sirius wasn't even looking at him.

"I was hoping we could finally spend sometime together, Pads"

Sirius sniffed a t-shirt and sorted it safe to wear.

"We live together, Prongs. We see each other everyday"

It is not enough. James thought. It is not like before.

"I meant do something fun" he rubbed his hair unconsciously "And maybe not with Remus and Pete..." he swallowed before adding "Just the two of us"

Sirius paused and listened.

"Come on" James chuckled "Remus must be bored of you by this point. Why don't you give him a break?"

James saw the way Sirius's chin tensed and his eyes glistened with a million thoughts at the same time.

"I could say the same thing about your little girlfriend"

Little girlfriend was the only way Sirius reffered to Lily lately. Tone of spite was used.

"She has a name..."

"I thought you were going to hang out with her this weekend" Sirius added "Special date and all"

James loved Lily. She was the girl of his dreams, the love of his life, the woman he wanted to marry even if it might be too soon and he was too young. James loved spending time with her. With her smile, her hair, her perfume, and uff her kisses.

But he loved Sirius too and as much. How much did he miss to spend time with him as well.

"I can cancel" James grinned "I see my beautiful Lils everyday" he sighed "Head students patrols and all" he waved off "I would like to see my handsome Sirius as well"

Sirius tried to hide his blush but looking away. He did that ever since that summer. Ever since their mistake kiss. James just wanted things to go back to normal.

"I don't think you want to stay in the castle in a Hogsmeade weekend" Sirius spat "Moony and I will be bored anyway"

James tried not to be disappointed. Or jealous. Again.

Sirius faked a smile.

"Plus, it is the best opportunity to deflower Evans"

James scoffed and felt his own cheeks on fire. It was the plan to make his first time with his girlfriend special. He rented a cabin and all. He had everything planned.

"That doesn't sound very romantic, Pads"

Sirius raised an eyebrow "How should I call it then?" he asked "Make sweet sweet love to Miss Evans?"

James grinned "That sounds better" he said "Very formal"

Sirius scoffed. He procceeded to find some socks.

"It is a very special moment for me, Pads" Although Sirius hadn't asked him if he was nervous or how he felt about it "But I can postpone it for my friends..."

"I have been deflowered, Prongsie!"

James giggled "I have no doubt that your sweet cherry had been popped a lot"

Sirius rolled his eyes with a smile.

"What I meant was that if you need me..."

Sirius's smile disappeared from his face.

"Don't leave your sweet cherry waiting because of me"

"I know, but I haven't seen you well lately" James tried "You skip classes with Moony and..."

Sirius scoffed "Being Headboy is changing you, Prongs"

"You are either sad or explosive lately and..."

"I'm not a bird with the wings broken, James!"

James was kind of taken aback by the reaction. Sirius raised a bit his voice. But James understood why. Lily had said something about fearce animals when they felt they were being attacked, just because they were hurt.

"You haven't even told me about the summer, or your family"

Sirius clenched his teeth. "There's nothing to tell..."

"You told my mum"

"And what? You're curious about what poor Sirius went through as well?"

"I AM YOUR BEST FRIEND!"

Sirius flinched unconsiously. James felt guilty for a second.

It was true what he was saying, practically yelling. And he was desperate. Sirius was his best friend in the whole world. James loved him like a brother, like no one else. He wanted to be close to Sirius again. Be part of his life.

He wasn't curious. He was just worried.

"Why do I miss you, Sirius?" James asked more calmly and with upcoming tears in his eyes.

Sirius swallowed "It's because you've changed. She's changed you"

"Don't get Lily into this" James sniffed.

Sirius ignored him.

"You are Mr. Headboy or Mr. Captain, or Mister Evans?" Sirius snapped "Not just James. Not my James anyway"

James pursed his lips.

"You don't have time for me anymore. You hate mischief and fun and you look at me like I am about to break any second and I hate that!"

James felt guilty.

"It's not like it was anymore"

James took an unsure step forward.

"It's called maturing, Pads" he said gently "I am trying to do things right and Lily..." he smiled with a sigh "She makes me happy, I am in love"

Sirius nodded angrily "You've become boring!"

James took a deep breath.

"What? You want to make fun of others and make them miserable? You want to go around pranking and bothering others? You want to do silly stuff and don't worry about our futures?" James asked

"At least that was fun!"

"We are not kids anymore, Padfoot. We are adults!"

"You're seventeen, not seventy. Give me a break" Sirius crossed his arms.

"I know you are just pissed with your family and everything"

Sirius approached defiantly. James had seen him attack others to protect himself. His parents. Teachers. His brother. He was like an angry dog that was actually with a hurt leg.

"Wow, Potter" he snapped "You're clairvoyant as well?"

James ignored him "Just don't drag Remus into your mess, please"

"Fuck off!" Sirius yelled "Remus is big enough to know what he is doing!"

James didn't answer.

"Remus would do what you ask him and right now you're dragging him down"

James spoke calmly, like a parent trying to make their child understand what they were doing wrong. Then, he just looked down.

"Of course!" Sirius sighed "I am the big monster here. As always"

James looked up. Tears in his eyes.

"Pads..."

When did they get to this point? When did it become to difficult to deal with Sirius? James wanted to hug him right now. Fix everything wrong in his life with a hug.

"Go and have sex with your silly girlfriend" Sirius added, backing away. "I know she is more important than anything at the moment"

"Padfoot!"

Sirius was already on the door.

"I was just trying to help you..."

Sirius ignored him and stormed out of the room as fast as he could.

James was left speechless.

He had been having a bad feeling lately. It was called guilt. James had been losing his life being selfish, making fun of others and doing silly pranks to humiliate. Sirius liked that kind of stuff because of him. James had made him like that.

So James tried to be better. He was using his Headboy power to change the school, to help kids. He was spending more time with Lily because she made him better. And he was getting apart from the horrible boy he once was.

But James had a past. And now Sirius didn't trust him because in the bottom, he knew James was not a good person. Maybe Remus was a better friend for him.

James cursed and cried.

He was going to get Sirius back and he was going to show him that they could be good, that they could be everything. Despite it all.

[chilling-seavey]

Lessons in Lust and Other Illicit Desires (gr63) —THIRTEEN

↳ A/N A little lunch and learning some more George lore ;)

↳ Series Summary: Sensible, wise, and a hopeless dreamer, Rosaline was used to men not giving her a second glance. She soon discovered it was merely those mundane college boys who were nothing more than simply intimidated by her intellect. What she needed was a man — someone who could impart knowledge beyond the Classics and guide her in discovering her own confidence as a woman. The thrill of sneaking around with the ever-so-charmingly handsome Professor Russell was certainly a bonus.

↳ Pairings: OxfordProfessor!George Russell x Innocent!Student!OC, Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc (background)

↳ Chapter Word Count: 5.5k

↳ Chapter Warnings: None

The weather was warmer than it had been all year that particular Saturday. Rosaline was comfortable in her skirt and blouse, her jacket folded over her arm, as she lingered in the well-kept grounds of Blenheim Palace, awaiting the arrival of her company. Despite her love for history, she had never had the chance to visit Britain’s historic treasure; an impressive 18th-century castle nestled in the countryside just a quarter-hour drive north-west of Oxford. She hadn’t even stepped foot in the Palace yet and she already had her breath taken by the impressive architecture, rendering it in her mind as the Versailles of England. 

Birdsong accompanied her waiting as she meandered down winding pathways lined with shrubbery and pristine gardens of blossoming flowers, gravel crunching under her feet with every step. Other visitors walked past her, sharing polite head-nods or ‘good morning’s, each dressed just as nicely for a morning stroll at such a location. Slacks, collared shirts, spring dresses—Rosaline felt right at home.

The buzz of her phone in her hand pulled her from her wandering mind and she peeked at the screen to reveal a text from George. 

G: You look beautiful today

Rosaline smiled at the message and then looked up from her phone and scanned the gardens to see if she could see him. Her free hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun as she turned towards the palace. There, George’s familiar figure stood atop the slight embankment along the side of the Water Terraces Garden where she had been exploring. When she spotted him, he grinned and raised his hand up for a modest wave. She waved right back.

George waited for her as she headed to join him and she tried not to rush as she climbed the few steps up to the main walkway. She couldn’t help but notice his striped collared shirt tucked into slacks—not an unlikely outfit to see him wear—but the addition of the white cashmere sweater draped over his shoulders and tied pristinely over his chest added an air of casual outside of his usual lecturing suits. For a moment, Rosaline thought he looked younger like that; but perhaps it was the combination of the light coloured fabric and the bright spring sun.

“Good morning,” he greeted her with a handsome smile. He set his hand on her arm and leaned in to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Good morning,” Rosaline echoed, trying not to let her words falter from the pleasant surprise of his kiss. 

His hand lingered on her arm even as he stepped back, his thumb caressing the soft skin of her bicep just under the sleeve of her blouse. In a gentle voice, he apologized, “Hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long, I forgot how far the parking lot is.”

Rosaline waved her hand as if to brush aside his concern, “No, you’re fine. It was nice to wander the gardens anyway.”

“I would have picked you up at your dorm but…you know how it is.”

The reminder of their risky relationship didn’t go unnoticed by Rosaline, but she shrugged with a casual smile, “It’s okay. I don’t mind the bus anyway.”

George’s eyebrows raised, “Oh, I don’t think anyone has ever said that before.”

They shared faint laughter for a fleeting moment. 

Then, he gestured towards the palace, “Shall we, then?”

She smiled at him, nudging her glasses up her nose with the back of her index finger, and agreed with a sweet, “We shall.”

The entirety of Blenheim Palace was a historic relic and most of the rooms could be explored either with a tour guide or individually and, since George was arguably a walking encyclopedia, they chose to explore on their own. With tickets purchased in the main hall, George then led the way into the first collection of ornately decorated rooms lined with expensive portraits and custom furniture pieces from centuries ago. 

It was quiet in the palace; other tour groups speaking in hushed tones and walking in slow, gentle steps to respect the delicateness of the space. Floorboards creaked here or there and the lofty ceilings carried even the slightest of whispers across the elaborately decorated rooms and the heaviness of a space weighed down by years of history lingered all around them. 

Meandering side by side through one of the rooms, George and Rosaline took in the grandeur of the gold trimmed furnishings in peaceful silence. She peered up at the intricate carvings on the crown moulding around the perimeter of the room, admiring every detail.

“For the grandeur of this place, it was built for relatively cheap,” George explained quietly. When Rosaline looked over at him, as if wanting to know more, he continued, “It only cost a total of roughly £300,000 back in the 18th century.”

Rosaline’s eyes widened in surprise and she gestured her hand around, “For all this?”

“It’s been renovated on and off since but, yes, the integrity of the palace and a majority of its design and architecture is the same.” George answered without hesitation, “It’s a World Historic Site too.”

“I didn’t know you knew history just as well as you knew literature.” Rosaline teased lightheartedly as they walked through to the next room. 

George shrugged modestly, his hands held behind his back as they took in the sights of the space around them, “Somewhat. History and classic literature often go hand in hand anyway.”

“Can’t know one without the other, really.” Rosaline added.

He glanced at her with a genuine smile, as if in awe of her, “Exactly.”

There was a momentary pause as they took in the new room they found themselves in. 

Then, George added, “I also just really love Blenheim. It’s not far from Oxford so it’s worth the drive up to sit in the gardens and read or grade papers.”

“You’re like a love interest in one of those lovely literary classics, you know?” Rosaline complemented as they wandered aimlessly through the rooms of the palace, “Well dressed, well read, likes to sit in palace gardens…”

George’s lips turned up into a bashful smile and he glanced at her, “That’s some high praise, Miss Kent.”

“Just the truth,” Rosaline shrugged and followed it up with a playful, “You know I’m the best literary analyst in the class.”

George chuckled, the sound low and warm and it made her heart skip a beat. She smiled at him shamelessly as if making him laugh was the pride of her existence, admiring the sight of his well crafted profile amongst the backdrop of golds and velvets. 

He nodded, humouring her with a light, “Yes, that is true.”

Rosaline stopped in the middle of the grand hall they had stepped foot in, surrounded by intricately carved stone columns that stretched up to the impressively high ceiling, supporting thick crown moulding around the trim of the arched ceiling. The emptiness of the vast space had their steps sounding like popping firecrackers over the marble floors, echoing upwards and to every corner of the hall. 

Directly above them, the domed ceiling donned a Renaissance style painting depicting flushing figures in well-preserved colours against a romantic backdrop. It was trimmed and circled in intricate gold, the ceiling arching upwards towards its frame to draw the eye to the composition. Rosaline found herself getting a slight ache in her neck from how long she stood there, staring at the ceiling and all the minute details of the grand hall. 

After a moment of appreciation, she followed George over to one section of the space where, along the wall, hung a collection of gold framed portraits, each depicting generations of the family that once resided in the palace walls. The two of them lingered in front of the small gallery, admiring the artistry of each brushstroke, side by side, silent. Rosaline’s attention was drawn to the nameplates, the name ‘Churchill’ standing out to her. 

“Is this the Churchill family?” she inquired in a whisper so as to not disrupt other visitors.

George, without taking his eyes away from the paintings, replied, “Yes, Sir Winston Churchill was born here in 1874; and back in the 18th century, it was gifted to his ancestors as a celebration of the Victory won over France in the Spanish Succession.”

Rosaline looked at him again, once again privy to the way his expression was relaxed in the presence of subjects he was passionate about, of things that brought his heart and mind satisfaction. His ease of recall in remembering all these facts had a smile pricking at her lips and she looked back at the paintings. She calmly replied, “I wish you could teach me every class. You make everything feel so interesting.”

“I think you’re a tad biased,” George glanced at her with a playful smirk. 

Rosaline scoffed and met his gaze, “Certainly not.”

“Well, I doubt I could make maths interesting.” he argued lightheartedly, “I reckon I’d put even myself to sleep with that one.”

“Oh, no,” Rosaline shook her head matter-of-factly as she looked back at the paintings like she was declaring nothing more than the evening news, “No one can make maths interesting. That would take a miracle worker.”

“I wouldn’t risk trying,” George replied.

When they naturally moved on from the Churchill family portraits, he set his hand on the small of her back to let her lead the way. Rosaline bit back her fond smile and kept her hands tucked under her light jacket she carried as if physically trying to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. Sure, they were safely away from Oxford but she still felt quite exposed exploring a museum with her professor on a Saturday. Forget that just earlier that week he had eaten her out to completion and then came all over her stomach. 

Rosaline’s instinctive clear of her throat to rid those thoughts from her head echoed through the grand hall. 

It was a given that George and Rosaline would inevitably find themselves in the library. Taking up almost a full length of the palace, the library stood just as grand as the rest of the interior, painted a nice calming yellow and accented with elaborate marble columns and trim. The ornate bookshelves were built out from the wall and stocked full of historic texts with gorgeous spines nestled behind dainty metallic mesh. At the far end of the library, all three walls were covered in bookshelves and a narrow ladder led to the mezzanine where another level of bookshelves lined the high walls. 

Rosaline and George stood in awe, peering up at the millions of words that surrounded them, bathed in the noonday sunshine streaking in through the arched windows at the top of the lofty space. The ornately painted and carved ceiling details towered above them, cocooning the centuries of books within those well preserved walls. 

They wandered closer to one of the shelves, knowing better than to touch the artifacts but desperately wanting to get a glimpse at any of the titles the library housed. As they peered through the thin metal mesh that protected the books, they both nearly held their breaths, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. 

Rosaline was so entranced that she didn’t notice the way George was staring at her more than the books. It wasn’t until his fingers brushed her hand that she was pulled back to reality with a hitch of her breath at his unexpected touch. She kept her focus on the books as if to play it off coolly that she wasn’t fazed by his sudden display of affection, even if she truly couldn’t focus on anything but. 

She relaxed her hand to welcome his into hers and she could feel the slight hesitation in his movements as he timidly intertwined his fingers with hers. Neither of them moved for a few long seconds as if what they were doing was horribly immoral and they would be stricken down at any moment. They kept their eyes forward, staring stupidly at the stocked bookshelves, hand in hand. Rosaline nibbled at her bottom lip. 

Then, George spoke, casually, “You know, this library holds more than ten-thousand books.”

Rosaline glanced at him when he spoke, his words cutting through their momentary uncertain tension. The familiarity of his fun facts had a relaxed smile pricking at the corner of her lips. Her hand eased into the comfort of his.

“I wonder how many we’ve read.”

Rosaline didn’t realize how clammy your palms could get after holding hands for so long. By the time they reached the Orangery Restaurant and the host showed them to their table, they had already finished an entire tour of the palace without separating their hands once. When they sat down across from each other, they separated, and Rosaline discreetly wiped her palm on her skirt under the table. 

George was peering out of the white trimmed windows overlooking the gardens as they settled at their table. The mid-day sun streaked in prettily through the glass and across the marble floors of the renovated orangery, the rays of light making George’s hair look almost blonde. Rosaline felt like she was dreaming. 

He had said this wasn’t necessarily a date but she figured it wouldn’t hurt anyone for her to silently pretend it was. Besides, he was a damn good option for her first ever date. 

A brief silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rosaline took the opportunity to actually look at him, at the way the sunlight softened the usual sharpness of his features. He looked relaxed, like he was entirely at home. And so, so pretty. She captured her bottom lip between her teeth as she shamelessly admired him and his profile in the midday sunshine. 

After a moment, he turned his attention away from the gardens and back to her, “I still can’t believe you’ve never been here before. You’re the writer. I’d have thought a place like this would’ve called to you, especially with it being so close to Oxford.”

Rosaline picked up the menu in front of her but barely glanced at it, “I didn’t even know it existed. Clearly I need to get out of those dorms more.”

George smiled over at her, his own menu in hand, amusement flickering in his eyes, “I think we can work on that.”

“Mm,” Rosaline scrunched up her nose in playful doubt, replying with a sarcastic teasing, “I dunno, my Classic Literature professor is a real stickler with the assignments.”

George let out a breathy chuckle, “Oh, wow, he sounds like a right arse.”

“He’s okay,” she smiled back at him.

Their gazes lingered for a moment before they both looked down at their menus. Rosaline found herself rereading every item, unable to process what anything was saying; it was as if she was running so strongly on adrenaline and infatuation that her logical part of her brain was lagging behind. She reached for her water glass and took a sip to try and calm down for a moment. 

“See anything you fancy?” George asked her after a moment.

“Mm, it all looks great,” she answered as if any of the words actually processed in her brain. She nudged her glasses up her nose with the back of her index finger and turned it back on him, “What are you having?”

“Always the same thing,” said George with a smile, “Their fish and chips are the best I’ve had. And that’s saying something since I’ve sworn by the chip shop in my hometown for decades.”

Rosaline set her menu down, “I’ll have the same then.”

“A beautiful woman who has good taste; what a catch,” George praised.

She folded her arms on top of her menu, leaning towards him with playfully narrowed eyes, “Was that a fish pun?” 

George genuinely tossed his head back with a laugh, hand over his chest and everything, “Oh my gosh, not an intentional one.”

Laughter lingered between them, soft and easy, just as the waiter arrived to take their orders. When they were alone again and the menus were gone from in front of them and their drink orders had been quickly delivered, a momentary silence fell once again. George’s eyes drifted back out to the gardens, his arms folded calmly on the edge of the table. Rosaline lifted her glass of soda from the table and took a sip.

“So this chip shop in your hometown,” Rosaline started, swirling her straw around her glass absentmindedly, “Is it one of those mom-and-pop shops?”

As if thrilled by the chance to talk about his hometown, George turned back to her with a grin, “Yeah! Yeah, it is. My family got quite close with the owners over the years—this older couple with no kids of their own—and I frequented it often during secondary school. They always gave me a good discount. Saw me like a son, really.”

Rosaline smiled and set her glass back down to give him her undivided attention, “That’s sweet.”

George’s expression faltered for just a moment, his tone falling quieter, “I attended the husband’s funeral in the winter.”

“Oh,” Rosaline’s shoulders sank, “that’s heartbreaking.”

“Yeah, the wife sold the shop because she couldn’t keep it going on her own and she’s getting up there in age too. The new owners changed so much, it’s really not the same. But it will always exist in my memory; the crispy breading, thick-cut chips, the smell of grease on every surface.”

“The melancholy of growing older and being forced to accept that things are no longer what they used to be.”

George cocked his brow at her playfully to lighten the mood, “What do you know about getting older?” 

“Plenty,” she laughed lightly. 

“At the ripe age of, what, twenty-two?”

Rosaline folded her hands together under her chin, elbows on the table as she stared back at him, “Yes. I have my own life experiences.”

George just stared at her for a moment with a melancholy upturn to his lips and he spoke to her with a kindness that came with his twelve added years of experience, “You’ll have hundreds more and, someday, you’ll look back at yourself in this very moment and think about the million things you should have done differently.”

“No,” she insisted, “not this.”

He let out a soft breath as his face melted into a bit more of a smile. He unfolded his arms and reached across the table for two to take her hand from under her chin before guiding it by her fingers towards his mouth. Rosaline’s heart flipped in her chest as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her knuckles, his eyelashes closed gently atop his cheeks. 

When he looked at her again, he held her hand in both of his, thumbs gently rubbing over her skin. He didn’t offer a verbal reply, but she could see the honesty in his steadfast gaze. 

In that moment, Rosaline didn’t want to think of the possibility of a future without George in it. In all honesty, she had been so caught up in the ‘here and now’ of their agreement that she had forgotten to think ahead and what it would look like in the future…after graduation. She swallowed back those thoughts and kept staring back into his eyes, earning her another few gentle kisses to her knuckles by his soft lips. 

They separated by the time the waiter returned with their plates of crispy golden fish atop a heap of french fries and they passed the salt between them and took their time beginning to eat. Rosaline had to agree that it was arguably the best fish and chips she had in a while. 

She balanced eating with admiring her company, taking in every little detail down to the way he held his fork and knife and how he didn’t eat his chips with his fingers like almost everyone did. As he raised his fork with a spiered french fry on the end to his mouth, the sun caught the wristwatch peeking out from under his sleeve. He was always so put together, the perfect idealized man in her eyes. It made her wonder why he was still a bachelor in his mid-thirties. 

They ate in silence for a little while, Rosaline toying with whether or not it would be appropriate to ask such a question before, finally, she spoke, “Can I ask you something?”

George looked over at her as he lifted his glass from the table, “Of course.”

He kept his eyes on her as he took a sip.

“You don’t have to answer,” she assured.

“Try me,” he pressed. 

Rosaline dropped her hands to the side of her plate, willing herself to speak, “Do you…you’re single, right?”

She internally cringed at how awkward it came out. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip to hide her grimace. 

George’s face bent into an amused smile and he set his glass back down on the table with a dull clunk, “Yes, I’m very much single. I would not be taking you out to my favourite sights or partaking in our agreement if I wasn’t.”

“Okay,” Rosaline nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Did you think I wasn’t single?” George questioned, cutting another piece of fish casually. 

Rosaline shrugged, “Just…hard to believe that you are.”

He glanced over at her again, “Why’s that?”

Rosaline huffed a nervous laugh at his obvious pressing for her confession and she shifted in her chair, “You’re just so…wonderful so it’s strange to think that no one has laid claim on you yet.”

George visibly melted at her soft words and he set his fork down to give the conversation his full attention, “You’re sweet, Rose.”

“It’s true,” she insisted, “I keep waiting for something to happen…some twist to reveal to me that all is not as I’ve been led to believe.”

“Well, I can promise I am single. I have been for about a year now.” he told her, genuinely, “And anything you want to know, I will tell you. I’m an open book to you.”

Rosaline shifted in place for a moment, weighing the options of things she could ask now that he had given her the okay. She nudged her glasses up her nose and crossed her legs under the table and started with the first question that lingered at the forefront of her mind, “Why did the last relationship end?”

George settled back into his chair as his gaze dropped to the tabletop, “Starting with the deep questions now, are you?”

Rosaline flushed, “Sorry, I—”

He politely waved his hand between them as if to brush aside her apology before he answered her question, “We were engaged, actually, for about a year, but I was so focused on my career, my research, my publications, giving everything in me to Oxford, that it got between us. I couldn’t give her the kind of work-life balance she expected of me.

“My career is something I’ve poured everything into, something I’ve worked tirelessly for. I just can’t imagine giving any of it up—not now, not ever. And if a partner can’t understand that, then that’s not the person for me.” George explained so eloquently, so calmly, the truth heavy in his words.

“I’m sorry,” Rosaline exhaled softly. “It must hurt when someone you love doesn’t understand your priorities.”

“It’s fine—it was a mutual agreement,” George shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

A brief silence lingered.

Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, George added, “But she never read poetry.”

Rosaline smiled in dramatic shock, “Never? Maybe you dodged a bullet then.”

George laughed, “Perhaps so.”

He shared some more with her about his past, from his first little girlfriend in primary school to his awkward first kiss behind the aforementioned chip shop in his hometown. Although Rosaline enjoyed hearing his stories and learning about him, the evil glint of jealousy in knowing he had been with plenty of women in his past tugged at her heart.

So, once their plates were empty and cleared and they each dug their forks into the piece of pie to share, Rosaline turned the conversation to something lighter with a simple, “When’s your birthday?”

“My birthday?” George’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise at her question, his forkful of pie held in midair, “February 15th.”

“Oh, so it’s already passed.”

George smiled and took his bite of pie, “There will be another.”

After lunch, George insisted on paying, despite Rosaline’s protests to split the bill. She felt a twinge of discomfort, her desire to contribute stemming from her forced independence that she had grown accustomed to through her life, but his quiet insistence left no room for argument. The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering through the gardens of Blenheim Palace, hand in hand, discussing literature, their lives, and everything in between. It felt effortless, like something they’d been doing forever. Rosaline tried not to let herself get ahead of the moment.

They climbed into the front seat of George’s Mercedes together in anticipation to head back to Oxford. Rosaline glanced around the interior of the car with her hands folded on her lap, taking note of how pristine it all was, not even a speck of dust on the dashboard. It was something she hadn’t noticed before the last time he had driven her home, but perhaps, after the day they had just shared, she was starting to see more of who he was underneath his handsome exterior. 

As he turned the key in the ignition, George asked, “Should I drop you off at the dorms then?”

“Um,” Rosaline tucked her hair behind her ear as she tore her gaze away from admiring the car to look over at him. In reality, the concept of saying goodbye felt absolutely dreadful to her. She decided to try her luck, “Can I stay with you tonight?”

George’s eyes widened as if that was the last thing he had expected her to say. He blinked at her, processing, and she could almost see his brain hurriedly debating the pros and cons of such a situation. She opened her mouth to take it back, but he spoke first.

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

“Yeah,” she exhaled with a smile she tried to bite back to avoid looking absolutely psycho, “if that’s okay with you.”

“Should be,” George nodded as he buckled his seatbelt, “Just…no getting any ideas, okay? That’s not what I wanted out of today.”

“Fine with me,” Rosaline agreed. She’d give anything just to spend as much time with him as possible. 

They drove through the countryside back to Oxford to the soft sounds of radio. They didn’t talk—having done enough of that during their time at the Palace—but the calmness of the drive was relaxing. Rosaline kept stealing glances over at George as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the centre console. He looked so effortlessly handsome and suddenly the idea that she was going to be staying the night at his house had butterflies filling her stomach.

It helped that she had been to his house before, almost a sense of familiarity easing the slight nervousness inside her as he pulled into the narrow driveway and parked. She peered through the windshield up at the modest white paneled townhouse as they unbuckled and she followed him up the front steps to the jingling of his keys in hand. 

He apologized for the mess, not having expected to have company, but in reality, there didn’t look to be much mess at all. It simply looked homely, lived in, with items on the coffee table and mail stacked on the foyer console. 

She followed him into the kitchen and he offered her something to drink like a good host and, with her glass of water in hand, she stood with him as he made something simple for dinner. Their conversation flowed naturally, laughter filling the room with warmth and their voices carrying through the main floor when the topic got more exciting. 

Once the pan was in the oven, Rosaline found her way in front of him, trapping him against the counter as her hands helped themselves around his waist. He didn’t push her away—he never did—and, instead, his fingers stroked through the ends of her soft hair as he stared into her eyes. They shared a few slow, lingering kisses in the privacy of his kitchen after a long day of going without. 

His hands felt so good on her body, even in all the innocent places he touched over her hips and her back, and Rosaline’s arms draped around his shoulders until they were chest to chest. It was sweet and languid and yet it still had her heart absolutely racing with every small sound of their lips meeting and parting. She swore she could have kissed him forever. The timer on the oven broke them out of their reverie with a startle. 

They sat at the kitchen table and each had a serving of the shepherd’s pie he made; a family recipe that his mum used to always make when he was a kid. It was a little dry but Rosaline didn’t offer a single complaint, it was still overall quite tasty. Besides, she was his guest and it wasn’t like it was realistic for him to be good at everything. 

After eating, they shared the responsibility of washing the dishes (even if George insisted that she didn’t have to help) and then cuddled up together on the couch in the living room to watch a movie. Rosaline was impressed with herself at her ability to act normal and not let her hands go wandering. In fact, she was enjoying herself so much just being with him that there wasn’t even much of a need for anything more. 

When the film was over and the night was coming to a close, Rosaline followed him up to the second floor and he showed her where the bathroom was, right at the top of the stairs, and then the small guest room and, finally, his bedroom. Situated at the front of the house, his bedroom was painted a deep royal blue with matching trim to that of the main floor, housing gold framed paintings here and there along the walls. Dark furniture and an antique paisley rug filled the modest space with a matching masculine bedspread tucked neatly over the sizable queen size bed and topped with two throw pillows. Warm, elegant, homey, him. 

“It’s up to you if you want to stay in the guest room or in here with me,” George told her from the doorway, “No pressure.”

Rosaline turned to face him from the centre of his room, her cheeks dusted pink with the unfamiliar concept of sharing a bed with a man despite how much her heart yearned for it, “Can I stay in here?”

George smiled softly, “If you wish. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He let her borrow some of his clothes for bed: sweats and a t-shirt that were only slightly too big on her. She changed in the bathroom and he, of course, didn’t bat an eye. Once they were both washed up, George took the responsibility of taking off the two decorative pillows from the bed and then moved to close the curtains. 

As he did so, Rosaline helped herself under the sheets and took off her glasses, folding them and setting them on the bedside table, and then snuggled down, pulling the covers up to her chin. After months of sleeping on a lumpy dorm mattress apart from the odd weekend at home, the feeling of a real bed was heavenly. She sighed dreamily, “Your bed is so cozy.”

George chuckled and pulled back the covers to join her on the other side of the bed, teasing lightly, “I’ve heard it’s even better with two people in it.”

She giggled, “Not that I’d know.”

George settled and turned his head to look at her with a smile, “Now you do.”

She met his gaze, illuminated only by the warm light of the bedside sconces and shadowed in some places. After a moment, she whispered, “Thank you for today. I loved it.”

George smiled genuinely, his eyes crinkling slightly in the corners, “My pleasure.”

Then, as if driven by instinct, Rosaline moved her body closer, the sheets rustling around them, and he lifted them up to welcome her against him. His arm settled around her waist and he let out a peaceful exhale against her head. 

“Are you a cuddler?” she asked with a small giggle. 

“Very much so,” he replied lightly. 

“Mm,” she shifted under his arm again, “show me how.”

George’s breathy chuckle fell against her temple, “Alright, face away from me. Hope you like being the little spoon.”

As Rosaline rolled over as per his instruction, she couldn’t help the leap of her heart at his words and the way he pulled her body back against his chest to mould to the shape of him. Once they settled, she replied with a simple yet cheeky,

“Guess we’ll see.”

♡ Enjoying my content? Support my writing here :)

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[rakka-chan]

Things that piss me off in KCD2

This is more of a rant to myself and maybe a future letter to Warhorse but anyway, spoilers ahead I guess.

Drinking.

I finished the game and this is how my skills look. Aside from drinking potions and during quests and cutscenes there's no reason to drink, unless you wanna RP. And I would have, if I had an option to just sit near any npc in a tavern and like, invite them to drink or toast or whatever. I don't wanna be getting drunk all by myself from my inventory, that's just lame. Especially lame when you know all scripted boozing scenes are top tier and are parts of the funniest quests in the game (both games even). IDK how hard would it be to code that but a couple of interactions and a handful of lines for all npcs in tavern would go so hard

2. Dice.

This is mainly stems from how sad Hans looks when he's sitting all by himself at the dice table in Devil's Den and you can't even interact with him. Just look at him. Poor bastard.

I should be able to play with anyone who's sitting at the dice table. And Hans even has voicelines for it! So why, Warhorse, why don't you let me play with him?? You can see him playing with some random people, but not me? Some bullshit that is.

3. Different levels of acknowledgement.

We all had this moment of "what if I kill every enemy in this location" and while sometimes game acknowledges it (even if it doesn't change anything), sometimes there's just nothing. You can get a "a miracle has happened!" if you kill every soldier in praguers camp during the siege, but you still have to go to bring reinforsements, which is fair, I don't expect the seige just be over just like that. You can get a different dialogue in a side quest with Jan Posy if you stealth kill all cumans without alerting anyone before getting to his brother (I loved Henry's little "oh you don't have to whisper I killed them all already"). You see this and you expect all other cases would be like this, but then you kill everyone in Maleshov during Taking French Leave before getting to Hans and the game doesn't acknowledge it at all, doesn't have unique dialogue "oh yeah there's no one left in the fortress, we can just leave" like man why have I even tried. Or maybe there is and I just didn't find everyone and there was some lone soldier sleeping in the farthest corner somewhere.

4. Helmets

Warhorse, for the love of God, just give me a toggle to hide the helmet during cutscenes and dialogue. Can't be that hard, BG3 did it. Realism and all but if you wanted me to use a helmet you wouldn't have made Henry this handsome. I want to see my beautiful face and my beautiful hair and beard and I have to resort to going in battle without the helmet most of the time on the chance there will be a cutscene after because I just can't stand the look of them.

5. There's no 3rd tier version of this coat in the game. Only goes to silver. What the actual fuck.

There was something else but I forgot. I'll probably add to this list when I'll be doing hardcore playthrough

[grimmcheems]

Crimson King stuff🩸👑

Yall this has taken me forever and I’m still not fully satisfied with it but I don’t see myself working on it any longer bc I wanna get to other things, plus I’m getting back into coloring so ik it looks different (prolly shouldn’t have taken a break from coloring oop) anyways this is just more of my Armin Crimson King AU with details and stuff.

At some point I thought I drew Armin’s eyes too “narrowed”(?)/tired bc for some reason he looked like Levi bc of the dark eye circles but I figured it’s just the tired look in his face that made him look like that and I thought it really got it across that Armin rly does not sleep in this.

I made some headcanons in my head that sometimes Armin and Ymir will sleep together bc the trauma and things they went through before they overthrew Marley was too much to handle and they find solace and comfort in each other. However I did not have space to actually draw that more clearly, only the little bit of them here all bloody and in cell (ik it doesn’t look like it but pretend they’re in a cell lmao). I rly tried to stay true to how armin looks like but his nose is so hard to draw ngl. I also planned on having the bruised armin be more skinny and malnourished looking but switched it out to have King Armin be that way a bit instead, I feel it makes more visual sense that he looks like he’s recovering from something bc it would make sense with context.

Btw I don’t think I ever mentioned it but Armin in this is a Tybur that Bert and Reiner bring back with them along with Ymir to the mainland. This is also why he is able to maintain his hold on the throne and have such consistent support for his and Reiner’s Rule. My earlier art has Armin with long hair but this is before he grows it out. I want to give the impression that Armin takes on a more “handsome” and masculine look in the early years of his reign before he starts to become more feminine looking overtime. Mainly to keep up with his image in the kingdom and appearances to intimidate neighboring countries. Though Reiner seems to have them covered in that department.

The relationships in this au are also very complicated and ambiguous bc I feel like that plays well into their psyche. Bert may or may not have developed something for Armin along the way. Armin may or may not be using Bert for his own reasons and twisted comfort he gets from his affections with the knowledge he has of their previous lives (will explain this later bc it will be part of the plot but won’t reveal too much bc there’s a solid plot point that is involved that instigates the whole story, but Armin is the only one that has any recollection of their lives. He sort of experiences a time regression?? Some of the other characters regain memories of their previous life as well but they’re not enough to piece together what they mean or what happened)

Ymir and Armin may or may not have shared a kiss or two in desperate moments. Reiner hates Armin and Armin hates Reiner but Reiner’s other personality adores him and Armin knows it so he exploits that about him. Very messy lol. Not a love triangle or a square but a squiggle? This story also heavily involves the warriors and Zeke but I haven’t gotten to that yet. I have an art that’s been cooking for a solid yr now for that😭

Other than that, Ymir and Armin are intially regarded as prisoners of war/spoils and are tortured for a solid year before their planned Coúp. They would’ve died if Armin did not have the knowledge of the main land and managed to convince the warriors and the Tybur family to turn against Marley. But yeah…..I’m a certified yapper.🗣️🗣️🗣️

[claraswritings]

Do you think you could write a Chef Luca x waitress!reader smut where there’s a bit of an age gap and Luca and her have been dating for a while and when they are about to have sex she tells him it’s her first time and he’s just so gentle and reassuring and talks her through it and stops whenever she needs a break or when it hurts (cause we all know bro is packing) and is just so carful yet dominant

Anyways I love your writing sm and it would mean so much if you write this 💕💕

Lmk your thoughts thank you 🫶🫶

Oooh, yes Luca being gentle is 😍

I have left the gap kinda unspecified just that he’s a few years older 🩷.

Warnings: first time so virginity loss for reader and Luca is more experienced (everyone is an adult and it is completely consensual), p in v sex (protected), fingering, oral (f! receiving), Luca is a giver, Luca takes the lead but he’s very gentle, words of praise, mention aftercare, LOTS of reassurance and checking in- we know Luca would 🤭.

Once again, I have not spell checked 😅

SMUT FIC BTC

It had been three months since you and Luca had started dating and it had been three months of the best relationship you’d ever had. Not that your experience was that vast. A few make outs, grinding and…that had been it.

You’d just not met the right guy. Or you hadn’t until Luca.

Your Luca who had made it his personal mission to look out for you when you’d gotten the waitress job at noma, your Luca who had asked you out one night when you were both closing up and you’d instantly agreed (how could you not). Your Luca who was currently kissing a love bite onto your neck, his shirt discarded on the floor of his room.

“I really want you baby.” Luca said his voice heavy “I want to make you feel good…”

Your handsome, kind, sweet Luca who was completely oblivious to your lack of experience.

You should have known this conversation would come up at some point. It was now or never

“Luca…” you started. He was a bit older than you, so him having more experience wasn’t a surprise but you worried your lack of, complete lack of, would be.

“Has it been a while, love?” Luca asked patiently. “It’s been a while since my last relationship too, don’t worry.”

He was so sweet and was looking at you so fondly that you felt yourself getting red.

“No I mean I’ve not…I mean I’m…I haven’t ever…” you felt yourself getting tongue tied

You felt your face heat up and instantly brought up your hands to hide it, sure that he’d freak out or think you were weird.

“Hey.” Luca said and gently tugged your hands down “don’t hide…” he said “don’t…” he said sweetly “it’s okay.” He cupped your face “there’s nothing to be embarrassed over…”

You shrugged a little flushed but trying to listen to his words “you don’t think I’m weird or I’m going to be boring or…”

“Shhhh” he soothed rubbing your hip “you could never be boring to me.”

He leant down and put a kiss on your forehead, a sweet and gentle gesture that made your heart flip.

“Do you want to?” He asked so softly and you nodded.

“If you want to stop at any time.” He kissed your cheek and then moved to the other “I will…lucky me that I get to be your first and make this good for you. Luca paused again “We’ll go slow baby…”

He kissed your lips “I’ll take care of you.” He pulled back for a second, brushing your hair back “you sure?”

You felt a little nervous, of course you did but it felt right with Luca and you knew he’d never do anything beyond your limits. You’d never felt so sure before.

“Yes.”

“Okay baby, I’m just going to get a few things…just before we start okay?”

You rose an eyebrow a little confused and he answered you before you could ask.

“It’s for afterwards baby, I don’t want to have to get up to get it and leave you for even a second, darling” Luca could barely take his eyes from your face. “So I’m going to get it now okay?”

“O…okay” you were a little nervous but trusted him so let him leave

Within a few minutes he was back and placed some things by the bed, wipes, a towel, some of his pajamas and a bottle of water

He came back to lay beside you, gently putting one hand on your waist and using the other to cup your chin, his eyes meeting yours

“Come here, beautiful girl” Luca said and leant down, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. He deepened the kiss, his hand stroking your waist gently, his tongue slipping into your mouth and pressing against yours.

This was okay, you’d made out with him lots of times.

He pulled back after a few minutes. “Is it okay if I take this off?” He asked and gently traced the fabric of your bra along the line where the skin met it.

“Yes” you said, voice low and you lifted a little to let him unclasp and move the straps down your shoulders, putting little kisses as he did, before he slipped it off.

You felt a little cold and exposed at the air but Luca was looking at you so sweetly, it reassured you.

“So beautiful baby…” he soothed and began kissing you again, a few pecks on your lips before trailing kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. He took his time, waiting a few seconds before he moved lower each time, giving you time to refuse if you needed. One of his hands came up, and softly with just enough pressure that you could feel it, squeezed your breast. You let out a little moan, signalling to him to go on and he moved to roll a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“How’s this for you?” He asked into your neck and you sighed,

“S’good” you managed to say as the sensation caught in your throat

“Yeah?” Luca asked and encouraged by your enthusiastic response, moved lower and took one into his mouth.

“Yeah, god Luca” you felt the words slip out and your hand moved to card through his hair as he licked and sucked and grazed against the harden peak, pulling back to blow on it with his hot breath before moving to the other, alternating between them switching his hand and mouth.

His free hand grazed down your stomach and rested on the waistband of your jeans. Luca began kissing down your stomach, rubbing your hip as he did. As he reached the button, he looked at you for any sign you wanted him to stop and when he didn’t see one, he edged them down, kissing your hips and thighs.

“Good girl, you’re incredible, you know that? So beautiful” he said “let me take these off…” He lifted your legs to pull them off and sat back admiring you for a moment before he tilted your head up to meet his eyes.

“Im going to take my jeans off too baby…but you can still tell me to stop at any time, it’s just so I’m more comfortable” he said, knowing he was half hard and aching to explore your body more.

Luca shuffled off his jeans discarding them to the floor and came back to lie over you, kissing you before working back down to your stomach.

“Have you done anything before baby?” He asked carefully as he traced along your underwear line and you could feel the wetness between your legs grow with want for him.

You shook your head. “No.”

Luca let out a breath, fanning over your stomach. “Okay, I’m going to touch you baby, just to make sure you’re ready for me…” he said “I want to make you feel good first… or if that’s all you want to do tonight that’s fine too.” He said

“I want to, Luca, I really want you,” you said. Your heart was racing but you couldn’t help but want him.

Luca made his way across your body with little teasing kisses until he reached your underwear line. He drew a line along it with his tongue and planted a little kiss right at the centre. “Can I take these off?” He hooked two fingers along the waist band and waited for you to give him a nod before he inched them down, kissing across the exposed skin.

Once he’d pulled them off, he gently brought his hand up and cupped you, barely touching you but enough to let his fingers dampen on the wetness that had seeped out.

“Perfect…you’re soaking baby…” he groaned “Can I touch you?”

You let out a ‘please’ that was far more wanton than it had sounded in your head which made Luca groan.

“Please touch me Luca…”

He carefully spread your folds and slipped one finger into you, pumping at a slow pace, savouring the look of pleasure that crossed your face. His fingers, damp with your slick, drifted to your swollen clit and he touched it carefully, just a brush which caused you to arch off the bed, grinding down on to his hand

“How’s that, love? This okay for you?” Luca said with a lazy smirk. “You like it when I touch you like that?”

“Feels good Lu…” you were quick to answer him “More…”

“Patience baby…” Luca smiled and rubbed circles a few more times, drawing moans from you “Can I taste you baby?” He said “I bet you taste fucking incredible and you’re so wet for me…”

Again you found yourself nodding, your need for him obvious.

“My girl, so good for me…” he said and positioned himself between your legs “…I’m going to taste you now baby….Don’t hold back, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m going to make you feel good…”

Carefully he spread you with his fingers and brought his mouth milimetres away and let out a breath over you, causing you to jolt with surprise.

“Yeah?” He said, doing it again but closer, getting the same reaction. Again you shivered with pleasure and he brought his mouth right over your hole and pressed his tongue against you. “You want more baby?”

“Ohhh fuck Luca”

You arched off the bed, fisting your hand in the sheets and the shudder that escaped you was uncontrollable as Luca worked his mouth against you, using his lips and tongue, licking stripes up from your soaking centre and back down from your clit before returning to circle the most sensitive nub.

“That good baby? You sound so sexy…”

Your hand found its way from the sheets to his hair and you tangled it in the soft blonde locks, which you could have sworn you felt him smile into you as he worked his tongue up and down your slit.

“…s’good, please Lu, keep going”

He groaned into you, the sound of your moans making him even harder as he focused on bringing you pleasure. Luca rolled his tongue delving back into you

“My god Luca…please…I’m…” you could feel the pressure build, edging you closer.

“That’s it…you’re doing so well baby…” he coaxed, barely lifting his mouth from you, instead returning his focus to your clit, working against it with his tongue. “Cum for me, baby,”

That was it. You felt yourself peak, letting out a throaty moan, then gasped to catch breath as he returned to lay over you and his hand moved to card your hair back.

“How was that, love?” Luca asked carefully “That good?” He gave you a little smirk that sent another jolt straight between your legs.

“Incredible Lu…thank you…”

He laughed a little, thinking how cute it was that you thanked him and handed you the water. “You sound so pretty, I wanna make you make that noise again baby,”

Luca’s hands ran over your bare thighs.

“Can I baby? Can I make you make that noise again?”

You took a sip and instantly put it to one side, you’d never felt so hot, never felt so needy and so desired all in one.

“Please…Please Luca….I want you…” you said breathlessly “I want you…inside me.”

Luca leant in and kissed you, smiling at how eager you were.

“Okay darling…” Luca said and moved to position himself between your legs, parting them. His breath caught at the sight of you, spread and ready for him. “If you need to stop at any time just tell me okay?”

He leant in and kissed you once more before sliding off his boxers.

You felt your breath catch at the size of him. He was not only long but thick, and seeping at the top and watched as he rolled on a condom and could barely take your eyes off him as a mix of excitement and nerves swelled in your stomach.

“Will… it…” you felt yourself start to ask “Will you fit?”

As soon as the question was out, you felt yourself flush wondering if you’d asked something horribly embarrassing but instead Luca only leant in and kissed you again.

“It will baby, we’ll go nice and slow. Lie back and let me take care of you…you’ll fit me just fine, I promise.”

Luca carefully lined himself up with your entrance, spreading you with his fingers as he began to push inside, nudging you apart gently.

You let out a low hiss and he stilled for a second, waiting for you to meet his eyes and give him the reassurance you were okay, before pushing a little further in, still at a cautious pace his fingers finding your clit to tease at it, hoping the pleasure would help.

“Alright baby, you got this, you can do this okay baby, you’re doing incredible…squeezing me so good…”

You nodded again and Luca let out a moan as he pressed further, your tight walls seizing around him. As he was around halfway in, you let out another gasp and he paused, giving you a breather to get used to his size.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” He didn’t move anymore, instead rubbing your hip, coaxing and reassuring. “I’ve got you baby. Just a little more okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

Luca picked your hand up and kissed it “you’re doing amazing baby…you feel incredible…” he said “taking me so well…are you okay?”

You let out a little sigh. The sensation was a little sore but it was far more pleasurable than it was painful. “I’m okay, I want you…Please.”

“Are you sure?” Luca’s hand brushed your cheek.

You nodded “Please baby. Please.”

Luca kissed your hand again, before he linked your fingers and pushing further into you, a moan of his own escaping him as he felt you stretch to accommodate his size.

“That’s it baby…take me in” his voice was low, eyes heavy. “So fucking tight”

You squeezed his hand and amongst a few more whispered words of encouragement, you could hear Luca’s own breath hitch as he slipped the last inches into you, bottoming out.

You gasped and Luca stopped again, letting you adjust to the full feeling, his eyes looked down at where you were joined. “You feel amazing baby”

Luca gives your waist a small squeeze “This okay for you?” He moved very slightly and you let out a strangled moan of pleasure.

“Lucaaa” was all you managed “yes…feels…good Lu, so good” it was a little painful, you could feel an ache, but the waves of pleasure you felt each time you adjusted to him overwhelmed it.

That reassured him, the clenching of you around his length, the look of surprise mixed with pleasure on your face, your words all enough and he pushed in and out a few times again, letting your breathy shudders settle after each thrust.

“I want to make you cum again, baby…” Luca slowly starts moving inside you, back and forth at a slow but more steady pace.

Your moans encouraging him, reassurance that you were comfortable. The twinge of discomfort was as fast fading, replaced with the satisfaction you felt every time Luca moved in and out gently.

“You’re amazing baby, that’s it…making me feel so good,” he praised, his words of encouragement causing you moan “just like that…god fuck baby…”

Luca could have looked at you forever, he held your hips edging you closer and the gasp that escaped your mouth almost had him finish there and then.

He leant in a little and pressed a kiss to your lips, slowing the pace a little so he could tease at your lips in an open mouth kiss, swallowing your shared moans as he moved in and out of you.

“I’m close baby…tell me you are too…so tight baby…” Luca sighed.

“Yes…” you muttered. You were close, you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten like a spring about to release.

The full feeling was something you never knew before but you knew you’d now feel empty without.

“Look baby…” he said “look at how you’re taking me in…” and your eyes were drawn to where he was pushing himself into you again and you gasped as he in tandem with this began to work your clit, whispers of encouragement falling from his lips until the coil snapped and you felt yourself clamp around him, peaking.

Luca followed only a moment later, another thrust or two and he’d finished in tandem with you.

****

He was even gentle in the aftermath. He disposed of the condom and was careful when he leant down to scoop up the wipes he’d left by the side of the bed. His feather soft touches cleaned you, planting kisses on your stomach and hips as he did. Once you were clean, Luca he took extra care as he lifted a borrowed pair of his pyjama trousers over your feet and then your hips . He planted a last kiss on your stomach and then pulled you into a cuddle, tracing shapes on your bare shoulders.

You hid, burying your face into his chest.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” He said “You were so good for me, my girl” he reassured, whispering sweet things to match his traces. “Are you okay? You’re not in pain?”

Luca rose your chin with his fingers, so his gaze could meet yours, hopeful that he’d been careful enough to not cause you any pain.

You shook your head “A bit delicate and tender but…I’m okay. That was incredible.”

He smiled relived and kissed you. “I’m glad sweetheart. Anything I can do for you. My girl. Forever my girl”

And with that, he pulled you back into his arms and into the best nights sleep you ever had.

[yumenari]

Leona I drew yesterday 🙂‍↕️✨

[littlelightfish]

Disliking Tallchuck is a MAJOR skill issue.

[moeblob]

Gavin mentally: wait... that doesn't add up........

[papita474]

Im screaming

More detailed one below

[nootnootles]

Dump of Tellius school scribbles :D

[theylovevenus]

(Woodstock au) Something in the way she moves, attracts me like noo other loverrrr

[christiangeistdorfer]

JAMES HUNT messing around with GÉRARD DUCAROUGE during the 1976 FORMULA ONE SEASON

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hiii quick question what do you mean erik's heart EXPLODED when he tried to work together with storm??? how did this happen???? WHAT DID THEY DO

HIIII QUICK ANSWER and a severe need for correction on my end: i got my info horribly mangled SPOILERS storm did not explode his heart

during the AXE (Avengers/X-Men/Eternals) Judgement Day story, in X-Men Red #5-7 erik has his heart ripped out by uranos and has to exhaust his magnetism to keep his blood flowing

[X-Men Red (2022) #5]

[X-Men Red (2022) #6]

because As We Know electricity affects magnetism, storm jumpstarts erik's powers and keeps him going for a lil longer until they've dealt with the threat at hand

[X-Men Red (2022) #6]

[X-Men Red (2022) #6]

he'll die after this tho Evidently not from an exploded heart by storm (who, ironically, was trying to keep him alive with her electricity). he dies from the inability to keep his blood flowing anymore. because his heart was ripped out earlier and he has a gaping hole in his chest VJELKEAKL

[X-Men Red (2022) #7)

ANYWAY thank you for the opportunity to correct myself: erik's heart did not explode from storm overcharging him and i have to go fist fight my brother for giving me the wrong info