#huge book haul

[justplaggin]

— and scene.

[ct-hardcase]

reading old thr reviews out of sheer procrastination and I knew it in theory but ah. this is why the current comic run was thrown in continuity separation jail, to the point where avar can't even acknowledge ceret by name in totf when ruminating on the drengir, or elzar can't mention keeve when going over jedi patrolling the oz lmao

[kirsctein]

I’ve seen a lot of those reels/tiktoks where bookish “influencers” show their shelves and turn around the books they haven’t read yet, and the read to unread ratio made me so angry and frustrated (the goddamn consumerism just for the sake of buying things and trying to stay relevant!!) that I wanted to do that with my own shelf too

And well……

……maybe I should judge too hard actually (accidentally didn’t turn two of these! So two more unread actually :^)

[livvyofthelake]

i think the biggest reason it’s taking me so long to read chain of thorns is because i need to take so many breaks. i read one page of thomas and i have to contemplate for three hours. i see cordelia doing something horrible and i have to close the book in secondhand embarrassment. i get mad at jesse again and i have to take a break to cool down. this is no way to read cassie a girl cannot live like this…

[bi-writes]

ghost is such a daddy, isn't he? ;) too bad he's such a dick. (18+)

but it's hard to find a donor. you've been single for practically your whole life, it's the whole reason you're looking to just get pregnant by yourself. you don't need a man--you can walk into a clinic and pick from their little flip book.

but none of them fit what you're looking for. too short, hairline too far back, you don't care for the look in their eyes or the occupation they chose or their descriptions of how much they like model trains and reading george orwell every christmas. they're john does in different colored suits, and they reek of entitlement and the need for perfection and lack the individuality that you crave.

not special, no--you're looking for an edge. and none of them have it.

you're glaring at your lieutenant from three hundred yards away when your eyes soften with realization. ghost is such a bastard to you; he snaps at you easily, uses his obvious stature to overpower you in the most inconvenient of situations, and he always turns his nose up at you for being even slightly less than perfection, just a smidge off your target or just below your personal record.

he demands more of everyone he commands, but you in particular he likes to pick on. you used to think it was because you were the only woman around, but that wasn't it. ghost isn't a misogynist, he's just a right asshole.

but a gorgeous one. not in the way he looks, per say, because his face isn't all that pretty. you've seen his face, glimpses of it, enough to put the puzzle together in your head. he wears mangled skin, torn apart at the seams and scarred to high hell, but ghost is more than just stitched together skin.

he's huge. large and so fucking well in charge. he takes up space, and he does it with intent. spreads his legs when he takes a seat, crosses his arms over his chest when he's standing idly by. his expressions aren't visible under the mask he wears, but it is very obvious when he isn't happy. his glare burns through the fabric, dark eyes narrowed intensely; it is impossible to not understand when ghost is less than amused by you.

he's so capable. you've seen him take apart his gun and put it back together many times. big fingers sliding over metal and fastening it back together with practiced ease. you've seen him haul over two hundred pounds of man over a railing, seen him set up his sniper rifle and shoot a target more than a thousand yards away. he's smart, and he knows what he's doing, and even in the face of uncertainty and chaos, he's oftentimes the voice of reason in the field, and it's sexy.

god, he's so fucking hot. especially when he's rolling up his sleeves, showing off one sleeve of shitty military tattoos and telling the private that's practically in tears what a fucking muppet he is for assembling his standard issue pistol without a fucking magazine loaded into it.

that's what you want.

someone resilient. capable of overcoming tragedy, of finding purpose even when there really isn't anything to live for. the drive of bettering yourself, of not fucking it up, of being able to breathe easy and get out of a corner even when the path ahead is just more of the unknown.

unable to die.

"ever thought of being a father, lieutenant?"

he laughs, bitterly, licking the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot on the scope of his rifle.

"fuckin' hate kids," he mutters. "loud. dirty." he grunts. "besides. bloodline dies with me. don't need anymore fuckin' rileys mucking up this place."

you bite your lip. it's not the worst reason you've ever heard. it's just too bad he's exactly the kind of baby daddy you're looking for.

"that's too bad, lieutenant," you purr, standing up. you pass by him, your hips swaying and brushing against his shoulder. it's enough of a touch that his gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes flickering to the curve of your ass as you leave. "you'd make such a good daddy."

the fuck?

it's hard to focus. you keep bending over in front of him; dropping papers, picking things up, leaning over desks just to make his face twitch under the mask. you're constantly in his line of sight, wearing the tightest fucking shirts he's ever seen. cleavage on display, definitely a violation of protocols that no one is enforcing, and it's making his head spin as you lick chocolate off your fingers and swipe it off the curve of your breast. he thinks you must be mad when you make eye contact with him and keep it as you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck.

the worst was when he was stuck in the back of a humvee with you. the back was packed, soldiers pressed together as they rode back to base. he was sweaty and exhausted, leaning his head back as the truck rattled along the dirt road. on a particularly rough bump, you bounced into his lap, ass pressed back against his pelvis. on instinct, one gloved hand caught you by the curve of your waist, and you hummed as you leaned back against him.

"sorry, lieutenant," you had cooed, in that soft, honeyed voice he hated. "am i hurting you?"

"fuck you, sergeant," he had snapped, but his growl was cut short when you arched your back a little, nestling your ass against the fucking hard rock in his pants.

"just happy to see me then?"

acckkk, a fucking fiend, you are. pressing up against him when you slip into line in front of him in the mess hall. asking him for help because your aim is off, just to look at him from over your shoulder and give him that smile. the absolute doe eyes you give him when he berates you for the hundredth time that day, just for you to mumble back, "oh...yes, of course, sir..."

ngghhh...and he's thinking about you. thinking about smoothing a hand down your back as he bends you over a desk. thinking about what it would be like if you climbed over him on his cot and sat your fat ass down onto his face. thinking about the sounds you'd make, the big, wet eyes you'd give him, how good you'd look in his bed and wearing his clothes and cumming on his cock--

"the fuck are y'doin' ta me?" he growls in your ear. you blink up at him, tilting your head back, leaning against his door.

"johnny said you were training, so i thought i'd wait for you. got something real important to talk to you about."

you smile at him innocently, ducking under his arm as you slink into his room. when he shuts the door, you spin around to face him again, giggling.

"there's something i want."

"out with it."

"something i need."

"fuckin' tolk then, yeah?"

"want a baby, lieutenant."

"yeah, right mad about tha', luv."

"want your baby."

he laughs, humorless, "be fuckin' honest."

but you are honest. you're honest when you smile wider, and you're honest when you turn around. you're honest when you bend over onto your forearms against the cot in his room, and you're honest when you shimmey your trousers just low enough, right under your ass, showing off the wet cunt you've had since watching his arms flex as he stacked boxes after breakfast.

he steps forward, leaning over, smoothing two big hands up your plush thighs before spreading your ass, watching your little hole pucker. he smirks, chuckling low.

"'f y'want t'be a riley so bad, don't need to 'ave m'baby, swee'eart," he murmurs, but the echo of his belt undoing clinks in the room anyways. you squirm a little when you hear the zipper of his pants.

"but i want it," you whine, and you slide your arms out in front of you, pressing back against him as you grip the thin sheets on his bed. "i want it!"

"shhhhh," he scolds, gripping his cock with a calloused hand and shoving it between your thighs. you moan as he wets his cock along your folds, grinding slow, getting himself nice and slick. "y'want m'baby, swee'eart? wanna 'ave my cubs? gonna be bears, love. they're gonna split y'open, got such a little cunt."

you cry out, pressing back against him.

"want it! i want it!"

ghost chuckles again, laying over you, his weight pinning you down as he laces his fingers with yours. he's so big, you can feel him heavy and throbbing between your thighs. you need it, even if it doesn't take, even if he just takes you apart right now, you need it.

"you'll make such a good mama though," he mutters, mostly to himself. "fuck...you'll get so bloody nice and fat. nnghh..." he lets go of one of your hands to smack his paw against one side of your ass, gripping it tight and jiggling it. "every part of ya. right for the taking, luvvie. oll f'me."

he reaches down between you, notching the head at your entrance before sinking in easy. you're so wet now, dripping between your thighs, and he grunts as his hips meet your ass quick.

"tits'll get so big..." he smacks his lips together before giving you a heavy thrust. "fuckin' hell...takin' y'out afta this...gonna make you a fuckin' riley today. how's tha' sound, aye?"

you gurgle a little, a line of drool dribbling down your chin. he leans over, pushing his mask up, and he licks your spit off your face, his breath hot as he starts to pick up the pace, fucking into you quick.

"want y'just like this, every day," he growls in your ear. "in m'bed...spread out for me..." he sucks on the edge of your ear, making you cry. "gonna 'ave y'for oll three meals, swee'eart--fuck--until we know it takes."

you smile, your cheek smushed into the bed and rubbing raw against the sheets as he fucks into you from behind. his big hands squeeze your own, holding onto you tight, and you push back against him, your orgasm coming unexpectedly as he babbles in your ear about your tight cunt, your pretty face, the perfect place for him to empty his cock. it makes your vision go white, but you don't feel satiated until he holds his hips against you from behind and curses as he spills inside.

so creamy, slick and soft, but he refuses to waste a single drop. he keeps his pelvis against you, wrapping a forearm around your waist and yanking you up until your back meets his chest. you giggle, dizzy and a little drunk, leaning your head back against him.

"knew you'd fuck me," you mumble, sticking your tongue out, not satisfied until he leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you wet and sloppy. he laughs, his chest rumbling, and you put your hands over his, scratching along his skin as he licks into your mouth.

"tha' right, luv? why's that?"

you giggle. "because i always get what i want, simon."

next

[freaky-flawless]

I have this irrational fantasy in my mind where I wear some of my MH or Bratz merch, and an acquaintance sees it and comes up to me like "Oh you like Monster High/Bratz? I have a bunch of old dolls, would you want them?"

I'm lowkey mad it hasn't happened yet.

"You know I have a Monster High doll in my house from when I was a kid"

Why are you telling me this if you're not gonna follow it up with "and I'm gonna give it to you"? Please I will give it a good home it will be like when they put rescued tigers in animal sanctuaries she will live a happy life

[reki-of-the-valley]

I love going back to my high school ways, aka walking around in socks because shoes/boots are bad

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Blue states should play “constitutional hardball”

NEXT WEDNESDAY (October 23) at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

Nothing's more frustrating that watching the GOP smash norms and decency to advance policies that harm millions of Americas, unless it's that, plus Democratic officials stamping their feet and saying, "C'mon guys, play fair."

The GOP's game is called "constitutional hardball." Think: Mitch McConnell refusing to hold confirmation hearings on Obama's federal judiciary appointments, not never for Merrick Garland's Supreme Court seat – then filling the Federal judiciary with the least-qualified, most FedSoc-addled lunatics in US history, all for lifetime appointments.

As bad as this is at the federal level, it's even worse at in the states, especially the Republican "trifecta" states where the GOP holds the governorship and the state house and senate, where shameless gerrymandering and legislative attacks on hard-won ballot measures are the order of the day. GOP-held state governments engage in rampant interstate aggression, targeting out-of-state abortion providers, publishers, and journalists.

This is a one-sided Cold Civil War, because state Dems, for the most part, are unwilling to play hardball in return (the closest they come is when, say, California sets strict emissions controls and manufacturers adopt them nationwide, rather than making special cars for the giant California market). Republicans engage in constitutional hardball and Dems refuse to fight back, a phenomenon called "asymmetrical constitutional hardball":

https://columbialawreview.org/content/asymmetric-constitutional-hardball/

Writing for The American Prospect, Arkadi Gerney and Sarah Knight make the case for symmetrical constitutional hardball:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-10-18-playing-hardball/

The pair argue first, that the best way to get Republican state houses to play fair is to credibly threaten them with retaliatory action. They cite the recent attempt at a last-minute change the way that Nebraska's Electoral College votes are apportioned, which would have given all of five the state's EC votes to Trump. Maine threatened to effect the same change to its Electoral College system, which would have given all four of its EC votes to Harris. Nebraska surrendered.

But there's also a second advantage to playing Constitutional Hardball: it makes blue states better. For example, Minnesota gives free college tuition to exceptional low/middle-income students. Neighboring North Dakota got tired of losing all its smartest kids Minnesota schools and created its own subsidy. As Gerney and Knight point out, Minnesota (and other blue states) still has a huge advantage when it comes to attracting top talent, because attending university in a state with legal abortion is vastly preferable (and safer) than doing a degree in a forced-birth state.

Red states are bent on making life horrible for some really great people. The hardworking, talented Haitian migrants caught in the Springfield pogroms that Trump incited would be a fine addition to any blue state town – anyone who's got the gumption to haul ass out of a failed state and make their all the way to Springfield is gonna be a fantastic neighbor, citizen and worker, just like my refugee grandparents and father, who endured a million times more hardship than their neighbors ever did, getting to Toronto, finding jobs, and starting their family.

Influxes of young, hardworking immigrants are especially good for rural towns with dwindling populations. No wonder rural towns with above-average net migration swung for Biden in 2020.

All over America, families are despairing of their lives in red states. Whether you're worried that you or someone you love might need to terminate a pregnancy, or you're worried about gender-affirming care for you or a loved one, you can put your worries to rest in a blue state. Same goes for nurses and doctors who are worried they can't do medicine unless it accords with the imaginary dictates of Bronze Age prophets as claimed by pencil-neck Hitler wannabe Bible-thumper with a private jet and a face from Walmart. Fill the blue states with great schools, libraries and hospitals, and invite everyone who wants to do their job in a free country to come and work at 'em. Line every state border with abortion and mifepristone clinics, and set up billboards advertising the quality of life, the jobs, and the freedom in blue state America.

Every blue state public pension fund should ban investments in fossil fuels, and invest like crazy in renewables, especially in Texas, to hasten the bankrupting of the petro-kleptocracy that controls the state. Blue states should tack surcharges on goods imported from "right to work" states where unions are effectively banned, to compensate for the additional product testing needed to ensure that scab products are safe to use (ahem, Boeing).

Create joint occupational licensure rules across blue states: if you're certified as a teacher, nurse, hairdresser or auto-mechanic in New York, you should be able to carry that certification with you to Minnesota, California, or Maine. Create multi-state funding pools to build public housing. Offer med-school scholarships to the smartest red state kids, at universities where they'll learn evidence-based obstetrics rather than the Lysenokist nonsense taught at the Roy Moore College of Pediatrics and Obstetrics.

Dems have to get over their fear of "states' rights" and start playing state-level hardball. This doesn't mean escalating cruelty. Quite the contrary: every cruel measure enacted as red state red meat is a chance for blue states to extend a kindness, and capture even more of the best, brightest and kindest of the nation, creating a race to the top that Republicans can only win by abandoning their performative cruelty and corruption.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/18/states-rights/#cold-civil-war

[crispy-bonnie]

MK1 guys attending the fair with their S/O

(Tomas Vrbada, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Raiden, Kenshi Takahashi, Syzoth, Liu Kang)

i just need to write these down because oh my god they've been stuck in my head for too long

this also ignores canon a bit (cough cough lin kuei cough cough) because i'm delusional and refuse to believe anything that bi-han did was canon /lh [lighthearted]

also not proofread and just a bit ooc , just made this outta impulse

• • • 🍟

Tomas likes to go on the rides, specifically the more intense ones. He just finds the thrill of being tossed and turned around fun. He will do his best to comfort you if you don't do well on those kinds of rides and will even bring motion sickness meds just for you. Also please hold him whenever you're scared on those rides because it makes him feel so happy to know that you're willing to cling to him shdbsb

Tomas also enjoys the fair games a lot, the both of you trying and failing miserably to win the games and simply laughing about it. There was only one time he ever won a game, and it was only because he used a bit of his magic to toss the ring around one of the poles. Even so, it was a win in his book.

• • • 🍟

Bi-Han doesn't really care for the fair. He's only there because both you and his brothers dragged him along. However, he seems to lighten up just a tad when he sees you gushing over how adorable one of the prize plushies is. He wastes no time in buying play tickets and making his attempt to win it just to impress you.

He eats shit every attempt that he tries. Eventually runs out of tickets and gets mad so he just uses his cryomancy out of pure rage. The poor guy at the stall is scared shitless and just claims that he won before handing him the huge ass plush out of fear. Bi-Han immediately hands it to you and just smiles tiredly at your giddy behavior as the two of you walk away hauling the big ass stuffy.

• • • 🍟

Kuai Liang has you on a leash because you get lost easily. Either that or he's just worried about losing you in the crowds. The leash is most likely latched to some kind of bag or belt that you might be wearing. Whether or not it's you or him taking the lead, he always makes sure he's got a firm hold on the leash.

If you get distracted or overwhelmed, Kuai Liang will tug lightly at the leash to bring you closer whilst muttering 'C'mere' under his breath. He'll hold your hand to keep you from straying and as a means of comfort. If you're too overstimulated, he'll cradle you to his chest and shield your face from the noise, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances for you to focus on.

• • • 🍟

Syzoth has had very little experience with fairs. Closest thing he's gotten to one is the Sun Do festival, and he's only experienced it once. You'll have to guide him through a lot of the stuff. He doesn't really like the rides (aside from the chill ones) but will do his best not to projectile vomit acid anywhere if you do.

You two are strolling down the place while munching on some fair food when you spot a cute looking prize at one of the game booths. You decide to use some tickets to try and win one, but you don't seem to nail it. Syzoth offers to give it a shot, scarfing down the rest of the turkey leg in his hand (that both of you were supposed to share together) before trying it out. He wins, like- perfectly, managing to win you the prize in one shot while leaving some fairgoers and the vendor stunned.

• • • 🍟

Kung Lao is absolutely destroying all the food at the fucking stalls. It's a wonder how this mf isn't built like a 1x1 lego piece from the sheer amount he powers through. He likes to share portions with you so that you can have a nice taste of whatever high-calorie junk is being served.

Oh my god and don't get me started on the stranger sides of the fair food. Kung Lao would happily order the weirdest shit only to regret it two seconds later. Except for once. There was one time where he tried pickle drink, which is just pickles in Dr Pepper. To your misfortune, he liked it, and now it's something he whips up at home every now and then. I hope you like pickles.

• • • 🍟

Raiden prefers to just have a chill day with you, doesn't want to do anything intense. He just walks around with you, looking at the shops and such while eating some fair food or something. He doesn't go on any of the dizzying type of rides, and will simply watch from the ground if you decide to do so.

Even without all the thrilling shit, Raiden does his best to make it enjoyable, mostly through romantic actions. Like- my dude will get matching stuff for you, stuffed animals or treats with the cheesiest lines ever—it's like you two are on a first date with how he tries to treat you. You find it adorable, especially when he gets flustered after you return the favor.

• • • 🍟

Johnny Cage thinks he's an absolute legend at the fair games. He's really not, but he will always boast about it anyway. He'll most likely drag you towards where most of the games are and use his fuckload of tickets to play. If you point out a prize, he will absolutely fight tooth and nail to win the prize.

He never does and eventually the vendor gets so tired of his attempts that the guy just hands him the prize. Johnny will probably go on about how he totally won that while you simply chuckle and roll your eyes as the two of you move on. He also will be taking an excessive amount of photos during the fair—but that's pretty par for the course on anything with him.

• • • 🍟

Similarly to Raiden, Kenshi isn't very fond of the intense rides, especially the ones that spin a lot. He just likes to stroll around and chill with you. He also doesn't really favor the games all too much, and if he does play, he's probably using Sento to help out.

Kenshi likes to hang around the animal-petting zoos, seeing as it's one of the few things he really can enjoy with his blindness. The two of you like to play this game where you hold an animal out to him or guide his hand towards one, and he has to guess what animal he's touching. The animals also seem to be very fond of him. Especially the fluffier ones.

• • • 🍟

Liu Kang is kind of a mix of Raiden and Syzoth. He doesn't really care as much for the fair than he does your happiness and enjoyment. He'll happily go along with you around the fair or on rides, except for the dizzying ones. He'll gladly try some fair food, play some games, all to see you smile.

While Liu Kang often chooses not to play any of the games, he's actually jacked at this shit. Point out a prize and he'll fuckin slam dunk that game like it's nobody's business before handing you the thing you were eyeing. He doesn't pay mind to the shocked stares around him, content with watching that grin of yours shine as you giggly thank him. He also likes to go on the ferris wheel—he finds it relaxing and it gives him time to just be able to sit in peace with you whilst the fair goes on from below.

• • • 🍟

[avocado-writing]

Okay, I've had this idea bouncing around in my head, waiting for you to reopen suggestions, haha. How do you think the Origins Companions + Halsin, Rolan, Dammon, and Zevlor would react if they found out that Tav had been hiding a very serious injury from them? The kind of injury where Tav is convinced that they're fine and they don't want to worry anyone with something they can handle on their own, especially the people they care most for, but as they try to ignore the injury it only gets worse until it's potentially life threatening and they can't keep up the facade anymore. I will leave it up to you whether or not Tav and the other individual are in a romantic relationship. I think both ways have potential for wonderful angst 😆

ooohhh noooooo! but also oh yes, LOVE this sort of angst lol. written as if you have had an infection come on from an injury. this is gonna be a long list so let's buckle up...

Astarion

really tries to hide his panic but fails miserably.

can't help but start snapping - how could you keep something like this from him?

you try to give your excuses but he waves them away, angry, but mostly because he's terrified that he might have lost you.

if he has any healing potions he helps you take them, if he doesn't he immediately... sources some from somewhere.

holds you as tight as he dares, worried that he will aggravate the injury otherwise.

as you begin to heal and drift off to sleep he spends the whole night watching you rest, making sure that you're still breathing, still safe. doesn't mind when you cuddle up to him in the night, sleepily.

Gale

curses himself for not noticing your condition. he's a wizard, damn it! he's meant to be bloody perceptive.

wishes for the first time ever that he didn't just know wizard spells. wishes he knew how to heal, too.

makes you as comfortable as he can while he finds a book about what he can do for an infected wound, probably swallowing his pride and going to Shadowheart if it's bad enough.

you manage a weak, "Gale, you don't have to--", and he cuts you off, "if you're going to insist that I don't have to look after you, I'm telling you that I do."

fixes you something to help with the pain and infection, makes sure you drink it all despite the horrid taste, then tucks you into his bedroll to let you rest.

when you go to reach out and cuddle him he slips into your arms, presses his lips to your hair, and whispers as you fall asleep about how much you scared him. about how he'd never be able to lose you.

Lae'zel

only realises how unwell you are when you fall over mid-journey.

"tsk'va! why did you hide the extent of your injuries from me?"

hauls you onto her back and carries you back to camp, muttering about your foolishness the whole time.

makes you comfortable in her tent and uses her knowledge of githyanki medicine to help start healing you.

it isn't comfortable as she works on your infection but for the first time you feel her hands being soft rather than vicious.

"you should not have kept this from me." "I know. I'm sorry." "hm. ridiculous thing. zhak vo'n'fynh duj."

goes and intimidates the camp into being quiet so you can rest. it works. this is the nicest she's ever been to you. you could get used to it.

Shadowheart

obviously this is not a huge problem for her, but she is still worried that it got so far without her noticing.

immediately heals you, pouring far too many spell slots into your body in order to get it up and running again.

it helps, immediately breaking the fever you've been nursing, and the touch of Shadowheart's hand to your face is cooling and reassuring.

"lady shar teaches us to embrace our pain... but not like this. you should have known better. you could have died."

her hand slips down to cup your cheek, you cover it with one of your own. she's telling you off but you can tell it's because she cares.

"I'm sorry that I scared you." "I know. don't do it again."

she smiles and the ache in your heart is lifted, too.

Wyll

panics.

you collapse on day in camp and he immediately calls on the others for help, not so proud as to be unable to admit when something is out of his knowledge. he is not a healer. he needs help.

he manages to catch you in his arms as you tumble, hugging you close to his chest while magic is worked or a healer checks you over.

lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when you begin to stabilise.

helps you back to your tent to rest, gently chiding you but letting you know that he's glad you're alright.

when your hand weakly comes up to touch him, he indulges you in a kiss to let you know how relieved he is.

constantly watching you on the battlefield from that moment on. if he can help it, you'll never be hurt again.

Karlach

another panicker.

scoops you up in her arms and holds you to her chest, running to the tent of the nearest healer in camp - or, if you're in the city, kicking down the door of a local doctor.

begging the healer to check you over, but is reluctant to let you go. if she stops holding you it's like she's relinquishing control and that scares the life out of her.

you're healed and she feels you start to stir in her arms, peppering you with kisses of relief, choking through her tears that you're never to scare her like that again.

carries you back home, even if you're totally capable of walking. she just wants to make sure you're okay.

Halsin

sternly disappointed that you didn't tell him, but more annoyed that he didn't notice something was wrong himself. how could he not see how out of balance with nature you were?

squirrels you away to his tent to heal you, make you soothing and medicinal teas, his big hands over the source of the infection.

you burrow into his touch, into his chest, and you end up sitting in his lap as he heals you.

he wants to tell you off a little, but is more relieved that you're alright. encourages you to share all your burdens with him.

kisses you on the forehead, then on the mouth when he's sure you're strong enough for it not to knock you flat.

Dammon

my poor boy is just a blacksmith, so though he doesn't exactly panic, he does scoop you up and try to find a healer as soon as he can.

waits quietly and nervously as you are examined, silently cursing himself for being too busy to see how you were hurt. he's meant to be better than this. he's meant to love you, how didn't he notice?

when you come to he can't stop apologising, and it takes several of your kisses to soothe him and tell him it was not his fault but yours.

he makes you promise that you'll always tell him when you're hurt. has you look into his eyes and swear it.

he can't do much on the battlefield but he can protect you where he can.

Rolan

another one cursing that he doesn't know healing spells.

"you aren't meant to die, gods damn it! you're meant to be strong... what good am I if I can't keep you safe..."

rushes you to the best doctor in Baldur's Gate. pays for all the treatment that you could need. holds your hand at your bedside for your entire recovery... until you come back to consciousness, of course, at which point he just starts telling you off for being stupid enough to get into his mess in the first place.

you grab him by the collar and drag him down for a kiss. that finally shuts him up. but he never lets you forget how foolish you were.

Zevlor

practical but still worried about you.

you collapse in the field and he finds a safe place to hide the both of you from dangerous eyes, using his Lay on Hands ability to channel his magic into healing.

you try to apologise but a finger to your lips silences you, and all you can do is watch in quiet wonder as he burns the infection out with his Paladin's light.

when you're better he gently chides you. tells you that you have people relying on your leadership, and that a problem shared means there are more heads working on how to fix it.

when he sees how sorry you are lets you cuddle into him. when you say you'll repay him, he insists your happiness and well-being is enough for an old warrior like him.

does take the kiss you offer, though. he's been wanting to do that for a while...

[bonaesperanza]

Okay, so prev asked me if she had other nonsense reviews and I went back to look. She has over 300 reviews and most of them are quite cogent BUT! She seems to read exclusively cozy British mysteries, and in really really massive amounts.

So now it makes more sense, right? Because if the book got lost in the wrong section, the castle and the historical painting would tell her that it's probably set in a rich aristocrat's house/castle and, considering how mystery novels are usually named, the word "knight" in the title isn't really worth noticing (Agatha Christie's Five Little Pigs doesn't really heavily feature pigs, does it?). It also explains why she was so blasé about picking up book 3 in a series: mystery novels are collected in a series because they all have the same detective, but they have no character or plot progression between them and can be read as standalones.

She does also start by saying "I should have looked inside and read some of the pages before buying this one", and then concludes that her review should not discourage readers actually interested in historical novels haha.

The most baffling Goodreads review I've ever seen is one that's for book 3 in a series of historical novels, which has the word "knight" in the title and a historical painting juxtaposed over a photo of a medieval castle as a cover, and a subtitle explicitly saying that it's the third book in a series.

The reviewer said that they read the first 8 pages and were aghast that this was a (gasp!) historical novel about stuff like the 1600s and knights of the round table (????), which she doesn't like, and left a 1-star review over that.

[burrcapts]

Furry Midnight Haul

Nobody really knows how such places come to be, but it typically doesn't take very long before they are noticed by those who had the misfortune of living nearby. Most of the time it starts with people simply having a strange, uneasy feeling if they happen to get too close. But with time, the stories behind them begin to grow and fill with new, frightening details. The locals start whispering about those who went missing after going there on a dare, or just because they did not believe the rumors and had something to prove. Unfortunately for Quinn and Leo, they weren't locals at all and heard no such warnings.

After Leo's gps sent the two of them on a goose chase across the countryside, suggesting an apparently far more optimal and 12,7% faster route that eventually turned out to take them through a good handful of different dirt roads, they somehow ended up in the absolute middle of nowhere. Somehow even despite that the duo was still in a pretty upbeat mood, chatting merrily about the amazing concert they were at earlier that evening. Unfortunately it was already well past midnight and Leo was starting to feel really worn out after all the different excitements of the day so driving much further did not seem like such a great idea.

The closest town on the map was almost an hour away and even then, it was so small that Quinn and Leo doubted they would have found an open motel there anyway. Instead they decided to spend the night in the parking lot of this old truck stop they happened to be passing at the time. It looked abandoned, but most of the lamplights around the property seemed to still be working so they hoped that at least no animals would be disturbing them till morning.

Quinn needed to take a quick leak before bedtime but Leo was so wiped that he wasted next to no time reclining his driver seat all the way back and rolling up some old sweatshirt he found on the backseat for a makeshift pillow. Of course he agreed when Quinn asked him to try and stay awake until he was back in case something were to happen. But it wasn't even a full minute after his friend closed the car door behind himself that he began dozing off.

Quinn was only planning to run behind the building and have a piss there, but as he got closer, he realized that he could see a faint light flickering behind one of the windows. Maybe this place wasn't really as abandoned as they originally thought… Upon closer inspection, he found the door to the public toilet at the side of the building, that's where the light was coming from! 

Much to Quinn's surprise, while not spotlessly clean by any means the bathroom wasn't a complete sty like he would have expected and after taking a small peek, he decided to try going inside, not knowing that nobody had been there in ages. He noticed a bit of a funky, musky aroma in the air, but honestly, that wasn’t a total dealbreaker. He walked up to the stalls and found them in a more than acceptable state as well. Those were going to be useful in case that double sized chili hot dog he got at the last gas station came knocking…

But one thing that caught Quinn's eye in particular had to be graffiti that covered the walls inside the stall. He giggled, wondering if he accidentally stumbled upon some secret gay cruising spot. The drawings were pretty simple and rather crude, depicting numerous beefy, burly men, with big cocks and even bigger beards! Quinn giggled when he noticed just how much care and attention was put into drawing their junk and their body hair, but how little anything else. 

Upon a closer look, it was almost like a comic book of sorts, showing the lives of a pair of particularly hairy, bearded truckers (but really, mostly just the two of them fucking each other and the men they met on the road.) One was drawn almost like a round ball with how huge his gut was and while the other had a pretty hefty potbelly too, someone definitely put the most effort into making his arms look as big and muscular as possible. 

Back in the car, Leo could see those same two arms in a much greater detail. As soon as he'd fallen asleep, he found himself having a very strange dream... In it, he was also reclining in front of the steering wheel in the middle of this same parking lot, only he was inside of a huge semi truck, rather than the old sedan he got from his dad. When he tried to move, Leo realized that he was occupying the body of someone else.

Someone big… really big. Those furry arms he saw waving in front of him were just enormous! He also had a beard, and it must have been really long and bushy because Leo could see its end brushing all across his meaty, ridiculously hairy chest whenever he looked down! He immediately blushed when he realized that wasn't the only thing he could see… This guy's fly was popped wide open with a fully hard, beercan of a cock sticking straight out of it!

And the freakiest thing was that as soon as he saw it, Leo began feeling so damn horny, as if he'd just been beating it off himself… suddenly it was almost getting hard to keep himself from wrapping this furry paw that he now had for a hand around the engorged, leaking piece of meat. Why not give it a few strokes? It wasn't like he was planning on cumming before the huz was back… that thought came so naturally to Leo that it didn't really occur to him to ask who was this ‘huz’ that he was talking about.

The burly trucker whose body Leo was now inhabiting did not like to think too hard about things, especially not when he was this hard and horny himself! If Quinn had still been around, he would have seen Leo squirming in the car seat, moaning pleasurably as the coating of stubble around his mouth began sprouting darker and thicker. But what was going on inside Leo's dream in that same moment was far less tame…

After giving his swollen meat a few timid strokes, he quickly discovered just how good it could feel to jerk off in the body of such a hulking, furry beast of a man. By now he was completely consumed by lust, grunting loud and beating it so hard that his huge, hairy balls were swinging in the air. Leo could actively feel himself growing dumber, but it was impossible to resist all that pleasure. As if this mind, limited to only the horny, brutish thoughts was experiencing them with that much more intensity.

Some of this horniness must have been rubbing off on Quinn because as he continued to study the lewd graffiti, his cock started to tent up in his pants without him noticing. His eyes were so tightly glued to the drawings that he also failed to realize that little by little, the space around him was changing. Paint was losing its vibrant color and peeling off the walls, the white tiles on the floor turning to shades of grey and freely overgrowing with grime. The unwashed smell of sweaty, wild sex was allowed to fill the air, opening the door to numerous, dirty and perverse thoughts that were just waiting for an opportunity to sneak into Quinn's head.

He found himself picturing what those two bearded truckers might have looked like in real life. Somehow not finding it strange at all that his interest was gravitating particularly towards the drawings depicting the most explicit sex scenes. They both had such massive cocks… the one belonging to the beefier trucker was hella thick, but so was the meat of the guy with a huge gut, and it might have been even longer! Quinn let out a moan as his cock started to grow even bigger, pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. 

Ugh, why the fuck was he wearing something so damn tight while on the road? It always felt best to ride in nothing but his jock so he could always whip out his cock whenever he got horny and give hubby a hot show… and since the jockstrap was right there, he would always have something around to wipe up all that cum off his belly too! Suddenly Quinn had the perfect image of a blonde, big bellied trucker with an enormous, matted beard pressing a nasty, yellowed jockstrap straight into his face. He grinned and gave it a snort, then, a moment later, Quinn found himself making that exact same sound, his hand tightly squeezing the bulge sprouting from his crotch. 

Fuck yeah, horny manstink always got him so damn hard! Quinn started to lift his other hand towards his face, he felt something between his fingers… its crusty fabric was soaked with so many  old loads that he could already smell it… his ripe, old jockstrap… suddenly Quinn was pushing his face right into it, taking a deep snort as his faint, weekend's worth of stubble started to grow longer and denser. Already making him look like he hadn't shaved in well over a month, and probably hadn't bothered to comb his shaggy mess of beard in about as long too. 

Oh damn, this manly stink was really getting him going! Quinn was in the process of trying to clumsily undo his belt and get ahold of his cock. But fuck, he needed more! His mouth was opening, the tongue sticking out further and further, something was telling him that he just had to give this rank jock a good lick… he could already almost taste those salty, countless loads spilled into it… but then suddenly Quinn opened his eyes, asking himself just what the fuck he was doing?! He tossed the jockstrap against the wall, pushing the stall door open and bolted outside.

Unfortunately for Leo trying to resist the influence of this place was proving to be far more difficult while asleep. Even despite his dwindling intellect, he could tell that this was no ordinary dream. Everything was too real… the inside of this cab, this hulking, beefy body covered in coarse fur, the way it felt when he squeezed this beer can thick cock that constantly dribbled with pre. He had this sudden urge to give it a taste and once he did, he simply couldn't stop! He was such a horny pig! Constantly beating off and huffing his ripe pits.

Leo was still able to tell that the deeper he sank into this lustful frenzy, the harder it was getting to recall ever doing anything else, ever being anything else than this massive, furry trucker! But who cared? He was so fucking hot now! Leo wasn't able to resist tilting the rear view window towards the cabin so he could see more of himself in the reflection. Getting so damn turned on admiring his broad, meaty chest and caressing the enormous beard that was hanging down from his tough, brutish face. 

Back in the real world, Leo's body was moving in that exact, same fashion. Fingers combing through what was now a full beard, densely covering his cheeks while his other hand tugged on his swelling cock. Somehow Leo knew what was happening to him, that his real self was changing to resemble this burly, constantly horny, hirsute beast of a man but he was powerless to do anything about it. Completely trapped inside this horny wet dream and unable to wake up. 

Even his best efforts amounted to little more than making himself shift from side to side in his seat. Except by now, it was a tall and wide driver's seat of a massive semi truck and with every stroke of his cock, Leo was getting closer to filling it completely with his furry bulk. He knew that the only hope he had left was for Quinn to quickly get back and wake him up before it was too late!

Unfortunately for Leo, his friend was going through a major crisis of his own at that same moment when he ran out of the bathroom stall and saw himself in the mirror. He was so unrecognizable that at first Quinn screamed, thinking that someone else was in here with him, but when it finally sank in that he was looking at himself, he was far too freaked out to make even a peep. His puffy face was completely covered in shaggy, matted hair! The only thing that Quinn could think of was that he must have been having some kind of an allergic reaction because the rest of his body was suddenly so swollen that his normally loosely fitting hoodie was ready to burst at the seams.

Quinn was panicking so much that despite having felt the messy hairs against his fingers, he still refused to accept that such a huge beard could have sprouted all around his mouth just like that. He rushed towards the sink, convinced that it was something he could simply wash off. Turning on the rusty tap and splashing his face in such a hurry that it was only when his beard was completely soaked wet, that Quinn got a good whiff of just how badly this water reeked. 

It was so unbelievably ripe and musky, as if someone made a whole bunch of brawny construction workers wipe themselves with only a single towel after their shift, and then wrung it right above his face. Quinn let out a strained groan as he tried to hold his breath, but it was too late, his chest started to swell so rapidly that it felt like he might suffocate if he didn't pull off his hoodie. Only to find a massive, round gut flopping down onto the sink alongside a pair of fat moobs when he did.

It was just immense and it was still swelling larger and covering in thick, sweaty hair right before his eyes. Quinn’s gaze constantly darting back and forth between it and this massive, unkempt mess of a beard that was now cascading down his chest. Quinn had no idea what to do now, he only knew that somehow, watching it all happen was getting him so unbelievably horned up that he was only moments away from tearing his pants open to whip out his rock hard cock and start beating off.

But then it turned out that he won't even have to wait that long. Suddenly a big, muscled arm covered in thick, dark fur appeared on top of his belly, with another one undoing his belt and grabbing his cock from behind.

“Fuck huz, should have told me ya wanted to stick around cruisin’ for some cocksuckers round here, would have joined ya earlier! Or maybe even taken care of that gigantic schlong myself!”

Quinn moaned when he felt the grip tightening around his meat as the visitor's broad, rough fingers began massaging its entire length. He looked up and saw the gruff face of a hulking trucker brute with a beard almost as massive as his own. After a moment and a closer look Quinn recognized him, and of course he fucking did! It was his husband Leo, the horny pig couldn't even wait till he was done having a piss and had already stomped here with his cock out, wanting to fuck! But that was why Quinn loved that bastard so much, the only man he'd ever met who was as much of a horndog as himself! He grinned and pulled down his pants all the way, opening his hairy ass wide and sliding it onto Leo’s thick, throbbing cock.

“Yeah, give it to me you hot fucker! Yer gonna be tasting that load when ya rim my arse at the next stop!!!”

Wait… why was he saying that… Quinn wanted to tell Leo to stop but instead only kep spewing more dirty, perverted things and encouraging him to fuck him harder. God, that felt so damn good, seeing just how much his gut was turning this beefy trucker on! Leo was moaning even louder than he was when he caressed this furry, swelling beach ball with his meaty paws. Inside, Quinn was still desperately trying to tell his friend that he had to stop, but the only thing leaving his mouth was a horny litany of the dirtiest curse words ordering him to keep going until eventually even he was too turned on to talk at all.

Only grunting wildly as he tugged on his big nips and pushed his ass deeper and deeper onto Leo's beer can thick fuckstick. After all those years they've spent on the road together, fucking multiple times per day, they could both tell without fail just how close the other was to blowing his load. And with how loud and savage Leo's groans were getting, Quinn knew that the huz was already on the edge.

“Do it fucker! Blow that load in my… HNNGHHHHH!!!

He couldn't finish before he felt Leo squeezing his cock as hard as he could take it and jerking it rapidly until it began spewing thick globs of prime trucker spunk all over the floor in front of them. Then thrusting his cock as deep up Quinn's ass as he could before he started cumming as well, completely flooding the big bellied bear's insides. As always, the intensity of the orgasm leaving them heaving and panting loudly, completely dripping with sweat. After Leo slid his cock out, Quinn gathered some of the cum still oozing from its tip onto his tongue and pulled his man into a sloppy kiss, already looking forward to finding out just how much better this load was going to taste after marinating inside his hole until the next truck stop.

If you liked the story and would like to read more bear themed transformation fiction, or have something written for yourselves consider subscribing to my Patreon! This one in particular was a request from two of my subscribers!

I have also set up two extra accounts on twitter and bluesky for caption purposes! https://x.com/burrcapts https://burrcapts.bsky.social/

[winterarmyy]

Around My Scars

Glimpses of mafia!bucky and his wife's arranged married life.

Summary: A careless decision leads to Bucky almost losing his wife.

Note: Read 《 Plot Twist 》 for backstory of the couple.

Words: 5.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, physical assault (not from bucky), sexual assault (not from bucky), graphic violence, reader is lowkey a badass, pussyjob, reader on top but bucky in control, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, extra soft!bucky, fluff, tiny angst, etc.

P/S: If you have not read the original story yet. You can read it first for backstory. If not, you still can read it as standalone. And for those who came from plot twist series, I noticed there's a lot of you wanting more from this couple. So here's one of the glimpses of what happen somewhere in the future. Enjoy ♡

Read my other works here: Masterlist

All her life, she never thought a kiss could be this gentle. In fact every time Bucky's lips graced on her skin, it was impossibly tender. His kisses trailed along her bare back, from the center of her waist up to the back of her shoulder.

His lips followed the surrounding shape of her scarring wounds, as if he was tracing the shadows of them. His hot breath fanning against her cold skin and the deep, and subtle hum of his voice lulled her to near slumber.

Unlike his soft pillowy lips, his hands however were the opposite. His right was calloused and warm while the other was smooth and cold. Yet both of them were cupping her bare breasts perfectly; they felt so good on her skin.

It felt good like this; nothing in between them. Not even a single piece of clothing separating them apart. Bare and naked.

"Bucky..." a quiet moan was drawn from her lips as his hands squeeze her softness before they roamed around her frame.

Bucky only tightens his hold on her upon hearing her voice. It was if he was afraid that she was not real. As if she was just an illusion he was despretely holding onto.

He pulled her impossibly closer, his metal arm wrapped around her waist, gripping on the side while his right hand palming her chest, right above where her heart was beating.

She's real. She's here.

His own voice reassured his doubtful mind.

However, Y/N was getting nothing from her husband. Only grunts and growl and him snuggling into her, "Bucky, baby? What's wrong, honey?" she coaxed him softly as her hand reached back to played with his hair.

It took a few moments of silence before Bucky finally replied, his voice sounded like regret, "It's my fault, y/n."

~ ~ Flashback ~ ~

It was a normal day for the couple. A lovely day, in fact. They were on one of their 'undercover' dates. At least, that what Y/N called it. A name she came up with that makes Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Apparently, after the diner date they had before, they find themselves wanting more of it. The normality of life outside of the reality they lived in. And they surely made it a weekly schedule. Not that it was chore for them though, it never was, never will be.

After visiting the Brooklyn Book Festival and basically almost hauling the displays, they were planning to eat the new cafe near the location. But, as soon as they find the seats, Bucky got a call.

He was not supposed to even received any call.

That was one of the rules he set himself; no business during their dates. For whatever reason, this one got through him.

"Probably something huge." Y/N guessed as she watched Bucky excuses himself to pickup the call.

And her hunch was true. It was a huge deal. Especially when she saw his expression when he was approaching their table.

"I'm sorry, sweets. I really hate to leave you like this." He apologized when Y/N said she was okay to eat lunch alone.

"It's okay, I'm already here so it'd be a waste to completely cancel the plan." She continued to justify her decision for the reasons that the new café was hard to book a table, as if Bucky couldn't just book the whole goddamn café everyday for the rest of their life for her.

But, in the end, she did managed to persuade him. Bucky gentlely pulled her by the chin, before placing a soft kiss on her lips; whispering promises to make it up for her.

As his promises were laced with sweetness and sin, Y/N couldn't help but to smile against his lips, humming in agreement before watching him jog to the car.

She waved him a final goodbye and smiled at Steve who came to pick him up. The car drove away, leaving two of Bucky's men behind to look after Y/N.

If only Bucky knew how careless his decision was to leave those particular men in charge of his wife. Both were high on drugs and was not in a condition to be on duty. Especially a duty as important as protecting the lady of mansion.

At first it wasn't clear why she felt a little out after her lunch. She thought she would be fine after a little walk at the nearby park but she was wrong. Utterly wrong; especially when her vision went dark all of the sudden.

When she woke up in that basement, it clicked her. Her drink or food must have been spiked.

How long has it been since? How far away is she now from Bucky? Y/N woke up knowing nothing. Not knowing the place she was in nor the duration she had passed out.

Her heart was pumping fast, all the while her body was deadly cold. She was expecting to be tied up on a chair, at least she could try wiggle herself out of it but luck wasn't on her side.

Metal chains securely cuffed around her wrists as well as her ankles. Her movement was limited as the end of the chains were attached to the wall behind here. Anxiety threatens her to cry but she tried to stay calm.

Y/N looked at her surroundings. It seems to be a run down basement. There's lack of natural light source; the very little lighting were coming from the dim fluorescent lamp right above her head and another two in different location.

Clearly some empty bottles of alcohol were scattering all over the place. But none of those items were close enough for her to reach out to. Y/N heard laughs from behind the rusty metal door. It had two distinct voices; one deep and another was rather squeaky.

A clacking sound seemed to indicate that someone was unlocking the door. As the door opened, a man in his mid 30s walked in with a cruel smile.

He walked closer followed by two other man behind him; both were armed. Y/N frantically crawled back to meet her back to the walls behind her, the metal chains rubbed with each other, breaking the silence in the room.

"Stay back!" she warned.

The brutal man took a chair and sat in front of her. He looked like that type of person who would do anything for power. He had nothing but fiery eyes.

He look down and said "What's your name, sweetheart?" his voice demand nothing but a clear answer.

Y/N glared up to him, "I'd tell you, but I don't like being labelled." If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. The man could see she was not afraid to bite if he reach his hands out.

He chuckled darkly, "You're funny..." But unfortunately, he wasn't the type to reach out, he's more likely to; lash out.

The silenced room was once again tainted with sound, but this it wasn't just the moving chains but there was also the sound created from the impact of the harsh slap across Y/N's face.

The back of his hand hit and she fell with the force of it, "Urghh.." she groaned as she fall flat on the ground. The man continued, "... but not funny enough."

She can taste the coppery liquid on her tongue; she must have injured herself. Her cheeks stings as hell but Y/N was never the type to stay quiet and cry in front of people, especially to her enemies.

She giggled eerily as she sat back up, the undying flames in her eyes burn brighter, "Well that was fucking weak." she spat out the blood right on his shiny black shoes.

The man slipped out hysterical laugh, "I see why he like to keep you around." he smirked and stood from the chair. He dragged the rickety wooden chair away and threw it farther away than the original position.

Y/N had her gaze as strong as her will to live. The man look back to the tiny woman on the dusty floor before walking away. "Sir, what do we do with the girl?" One of the guards asked.

The man stopped midway through the door and stay silence for awhile, a wicked thought came through him, "Do whatever you want to do. As long as she remains alive." he snapped his head back to display a meaningful malicious grin and closed the doors behind him.

It was just a second of a glimpse, but the man clearly saw Y/N's despair in her expression. Too bad he had to go so soon.

As the doors closed, the two man look at each other and back to Y/N. A person doesn't need be a genius to read the mood. She knew exactly what's going to happen and for the first time a long time, she was petrified. For the first time in forever, she was scared for her life.

She couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking her. Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her. But no one would, no one was there.

A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, "Get away! Don't come any closer!" she felt a drop run down her cheek. It seemed as if this was the end of the road for her.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Y/N roared hoping the two man had a little bit fear but considering her position, that obviously not going to happen.

The man fearless and shamelessly grabbed her despite she was crying out pleads. "Come now, sweets. Make this easy for us."

Sweets. It sounds so disgusting coming from another man.

One of the man grabbed a hold of her wrists while another took his time feasting her with his eyes.

"P-please don't d-do this..." she sniffled as her strength were getting weaker, despite all of the quarrels and battle she had gone through before, she should be fearless.

But, when one is looking into eyes that lurked with such dark lust as those she was seeing right now; fear is bound to creep in. No matter how strong-willed a person see themselves as.

"Don't worry, we'll be gentle if you behave." he licked his upper lips as he run his hand along her waist up to her chest.

It was disgusting, every cells on Y/N's body was rejecting his touch; her throats seemed like it was trying to force her to puke something out but there's nothing but the nausea.

Tears kept falling down as they escape from the corner of her eyes. She was beyond terrified, even with her struggling; it seemed to be useless.

The man grabbed on the fabric of her sundress that was framing her collarbone and forcibly ripped them apart, exposing Y/N in her bra. The man scanned her body once more, cock straining in his pants.

Damn, she looked like sin.

He managed to gripped her hands together in one hand before she could protest even more. His other hand reaching to her breast.

No.

His rough grip on her breast was only bringing her pain than pleasure. But he was rather enjoying the tenderness of her body.

No.

He dipped in closer; he stuck his tongue out to lick the valley of her breasts, leaving trails of his disgusting stickiness behind.

Stop.

He hummed in satisfaction, approving the way she tasted. His bulge rubbing against her clothed core, humping for pleasure. Y/N couldn't look at him.

Please, stop.

But the moment she looked away, she made eye contact to the other man behind him. He had his cock in his hand, lazy strokes and a wicked smile when the tears fell down from her eyes.

"So pretty, baby" he mouthed.

For a moment there Y/N stopped struggling. She sat still like a doll who loses its' battery power, the man's statement rang in her head in an infinite loop.

"You're beautiful, y/n" Bucky's voice resurfaced in her mind.

"You're always going to be mine." the voice continued.

"I'm always going to be there to protect you, sweets."

The flashbacks run through her head faster than a bullet train.

Seeing how Y/N stopped moving, they thought she gave up. But then again, some people never learn. Don't ever underestimate your opponent.

She get the hold of herself, pulled her head back and headbutt the man in front of her. She didn't even care if she could get a concussion herself from the impact. The man ended up falling back on his ass as he grunts in pain.

"Stay. The Fuck. Away. From Me." She threatened.

Though her defiant only spark anger from the man, rather than fear. When he regained his balance, he slipped the leather belt from his pants, "You asked for this little girl. So be it." he grunts as he pulled a hand back.

His palm strikes her on already stinging cheeks, making her fall on her chest. Before she could pushed herself up, she was forced to stay down as the man pressed his boots at the back of her head.

"You need to be trained like a bitch. And I'm gonna give you exactly that." His words only sounded like a warning to her.

Which was exactly it, when she felt the first strike of his belt across her back. It was one of many mean and harsh whipping on her delicate skin. Until she was aching, bleeding.

As sick as he was, enjoying the thrill of torturing a defenseless girl, the other man was much more twisted, as he kept stroking himself as he watched Y/N bleed and whimpered.

It was disgusting, it was painful; And at one point her hands were reaching around only to clung on the man's other foot.

Surprisingly he stopped, "Learnt your lessons yet, mutt?"

Y/N can hear his sinister smile despite her face planted on the floor. She didn't reply, the only sound can be heard from her, is her unstable breathing.

Wanting as answer, he foolishly pulled his foot away from her head, "Are you deaf? Answer me!" He pushed.

Foolish he was.

Y/N fought against the agonizing pain on her back and took the advantage to pull his leg as hard as she could, making his fall on the floor. She was swift with her next move; she hit the man's groin with her elbow, automatically lower the protection his other part of his body.

As he was busy tending his wounded balls, Y/N slide behind him and wrapped the chains around his neck, she yanked the man as she tighten the crossover metal chains.

"You better stay the fuck away from me or he's dead." She warned the other man who was trying to get to her, he called her bluff. He took a step closer, still pushing his luck.

Y/N strengthen her grip as well as pulling the chain as hard as she could, practically strangling and knocking out the breath out of his throat. "S-Stop. S-stay there." the dying man stuttered.

The other obliged and had his hand up in the air as a sign of surrender. Y/N glared up to the man, "Lay your filthy hands on me again, I won't hold back." she growled in his ears before drifting his head towards the wall, knocking him unconscious.

Upon seeing his accomplice slouched to the floor with a bleeding head, the other man tried to grabbed and hold her down. But she quickly grabbed the gun from the unconscious man, and pulled the trigger.

Her aim was off but enough to disarm him. His right shoulder now had a hole through it. He grunted to agonizing pain on his shoulder, but he should've known to not let his guard down. Then, it hits him. Another hole through the shins of his left leg.

He screamed and wailed, sucking air in and out of his mouth, holding on to the last cliff of his life as he fell into his knees and down to the floor.

Despite the lack of protest from the man, Y/N didn't let her guard down as she still holding on the gun in her grip.

At this point, Y/N was losing more than just her blood, but her strength and vision too. She blinked slowly, waiting for glimpse of threat from the entrance.

Even if the two men were rendered immobilized, however she knew gunshot will alert the others. Anyone could barge in at any point of time. And she needed to be ready for them.

The door was getting blurry in her point of view and the cracking headache greeted as painful as the other wounds all over her back.

The dark silence didn't last long as Y/N can clearly heard a lot of movements from the level above her. One time she heard multiple footsteps running around and another she heard loud cracks much resembles a sound of a "Gun shots..." she breathed.

It took a single kick on the rusty old metal door; Y/N's body jumped out of reflex to the sound of the door fall from it's frame. As the door fell down, it revealed the face of a man who Y/N thought she could never see ever again.

His face were painted with the colour of crimson, almost covering half of his beautiful features; but his sapphire eyes shines the same. Even if her hearts was pumping fast, it seemed like the man was more desperate for air than she herself.

A sense of relief hit her like the crashing wave as she called out his name, "Bucky..."

Bucky stood there,dark and dangerous; just a few steps away from the woman he claimed as his. His heart seemed to stop for a split second; there she was — crawled in the corner of the dim lit room, both hands and legs chained to the wall behind her.

It's not that Bucky couldn't see there were others in the basement besides her; he knew that, he could see them but the nudity of his wife's chest caught his attention and he could see the pieces of her torn clothes were near her wounded ankles and wrists.

The cuts on around her skin, cause by the metal cuffs symbolizes her struggles. The bright pair of eyes that Bucky had always admired; they glint, however, in pain and tears.

A sight that Bucky never wanted to see.

Frozen in his spot, Y/N gathered all the strength she had left, to shout his name once again, "Come here, Bucky..." the sound of the strained metal chain echoed along with her shaky plead, as she reach her arms out towards her husband.

Pleading for his touch, his warmth.

It took less than a second after hearing her calling, for Bucky to sprint towards her. Completely ignoring the riot of bullets echoed from above them, even stepping on the men on the floor.

He had lost her for less than seven hours, but it felt like forever. Bucky fell down to his knees as he wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her head to his chest. He hold onto her tightly, as if someone was trying to rip her away from his grasps.

It was slight, but Bucky could clearly feel her body shivering body in his embrace as she cried to his chest, a piercing pain struck his heart, "I'm here. I'm here." he whispered softly.

His hand found it's way to her back, wanting to give her a tender stroke of reassurance but he found himself frozen to the sensation on his palm.

At first he felt it; wet and sticky. But when he brought his hands up to the light, he finally saw how his whole palm were covered in blood. Her blood. His wife's blood.

A wave of pure rage reigned his whole being and what happen that day had become one of the things Bucky's men will never forget.

Bucky made sure it rain blood that day.

And it was truly a gruesome sight to see.

~ ~ End of Flashback ~ ~

Since the day Y/N woke up in their bed, Bucky never left her side. Not even for his business, for weeks now Bucky had temporarily place the authority to Steve and he had spend his day tending his wife as he should.

Now, weeks later from that day, Bucky is claiming that it was his fault that she was kidnapped?

No, it absolutely was not. Far from it. How is y/n getting kidnapped is his fault? How is y/n getting tortured is his blunder? That does not make any sense. Not in any universe.

"I should've been there with you." He explained.

Bucky's kisses took a halt in the crook of her neck, he relishes the sweet scent emitting from her as his lips rested on her weak spot. Where does the scent coming from? Was it from her body lotion or from her shampoo. Eitherway, it was intoxicating.

He almost felt guilty for finding a calming relief from it. He wasn't nearly worthy enough to find peace in her. And yet here he was; selfish and greedy for the friction of her touch, the influence of her scent, the melody of her moans, all of her.

Y/N release herself from his embrace and swiftly changed her position to straddling him. His eyes searched her face, wondering if she was uncomfortable and how can he please her.

She run her hands through his hair as she chooses her words carefully, "Yes, you should. But that doesn't justify why you blame yourself for it." She leaned into him, brushing the tip of her nose on his.

Before Bucky can protest, Y/N shuts him up with a kiss on his lips, "It was not your fault. No one knew that they going to spike my drink. No one knew that they managed to drug up your men. Honey, it was an accident. It was not your fault, it never was and never will be." She was only speaking the truth, even Bucky couldn't argue.

He leaned his forehead on her before speaking up, "I just hate seeing you get hurt, sweets." Bucky sighed, as a frown formed on his face.

Y/N does not want Bucky to dwell in this darkness again. He kept doing it for the past weeks, and though some days she managed to pull him out, some other she failed. This worries her; it scared her.

Bucky might not notice it right now since his mind was blurry with worry; but if he was more aware of his surroundings he might just notice how Y/N was slowly leaking on his cock. His girth was slotted perfectly between her pussy and the sight of it turns her on.

It's been awhile since they feel each other; due to her injuries Bucky was constantly worrying about hurting her during sex.

And she was desperate for him, she want him to remove all the bad memories of that day. Douse her with his touch, mark her body so the traces of the man will no longer bear any meaning to her.

Her cunt twitches to the thought, she couldn't help but to grind her hips. Letting his cock glides through her folds; getting it wet from her fluids, "Then love on me, Bucky." It was an instant respond from Bucky, his cock was growing hard on command.

His gaze briefly fell on where his cock was buried between, before looking up to her hazy eyes. "...If you don't want to see me hurt. Then make love to me, let me show you how good you make me feel." She coaxed as her hips continues to grind on him.

Each movement causing throbs of need on her clit. She kept brushing it along his length, presses a little force when it reached to the tip of cock. Bucky moaned in sheer pleasure everytime she did that.

"Please, Bucky I miss you..” She mumbled softly, rolling her hips a bit, making him groan as he melted, "I miss you too, babydoll." He breathes out deeply before placing a sweet kiss on lips.

Bucky held her by the side of her hips and pushes her down further, as he slowly thrusted his hard throbbing cock in between the wet slit of her pussy.

The immense sensation on her was beyond words to describe. She thought she knew pleasure before but turn out she was wrong. Unable to even utter a single coherent word, Bucky on the other hand wasn't planning disappoint her.

Bucky's thrusts get faster and rougher by time until he started to hump her almost uncontrollably, letting out these little desperate groans.

"Feel so good, Buck-- ah shit--" Y/N moaned, her face flushed pink, mouth hanging open as her pussy throbbed against his drenched cock. Every time he push forward, he could feel himself spreading the lips of her pussy apart.

His pace did not drop as his goal is to make her cum just by him fucking through her folds alone. He want see her feeling good. And sure enough, she began to whimper, "I'mma cum. Bucky, please don't stop. I'm cumming."

Bucky leaned into her ears and whispered, "Go ahead, babydoll. Cum for me. Let me see your face when I make you cum. That's it baby, hmmm, so pretty. Can feel ya clenching. Feels good doesn't it, sweets. Yeah you do." He held her still as he thrusted against her slick again and again, letting her ride her high; his pace was faster and maybe a bit more desperate than before while she from her orgasm.

Bucky caught her from falling back into the mattress, he leaned her body towards himself. Letting her rest on his chest. Slow drag of his cock on her pussy felt so good, she might have had a mini orgasm from it.

"Babydoll, gonna make you feel even more better. Gonna stuff your pussy full. Can I? Promise it'll make you feel so good. Want that, sweets?" Bucky coaxed her with sinful temptation that she couldn't resist.

"Yes please. Wanna be stuffed and full of you and your cum. Please?" She didn't need to beg like that for Bucky to comply.

His hand searched for hers before he interlock her fingers with him. He sit her up on her knee, using one of his free hand to line the tip of his cock at her entrance. 

Y/N's whole body trembled when he thrust himself up into her one swift movement. He watch as her eyes are furrowed shut, lips parted in pleasure. Her knuckles whiten as they grip the sheets and his hand.

Oh she was so full. So full of him.

Bucky bite his lip at the feeling of being inside her, the clenching her walls around his needy cock. He lift her up off him slowly, ceating a slow but deep pace, she let the sounds of his deep groans fill her ears. He’s not noisy, but just very vocal, every breath coming out as moan of pleasure.

"You’re so good for me, Bucky."  She praise breathlessly. "So good".

His hips buck up and she hiss as he inadvertently thrusts into her deeper than before. "God," he almost whined, lost at the feel of her warm cunt.

Y/N was also feeling as good. The sting of the stretch was amazing. She bite back her moan as he rubbed all over her favourite spots inside, "Hmmpph! Buck- ahh. please, ahh-- fuck me so good." She let out a breathy mumbling noises as he continue drill his cock in and out of her.

"Feels amazing being inside you, sweets. So warm, so wet. Fuck-- yeah just that, milk me like that yeahh" Bucky's hips moved upwards and downward as he fucks her rough and messy, holding her tightly against his body as he bounces her up and down on his cock.

Both of the pair of eyes never left each other. Eyes roaming to stare either at each others fucked-out face or to where their sex was connected.

How lewd it was; the way he languidly pumps himself in and out of her. How her small little hole could swallow his cock perfectly in each of his hips thrusts. How beautiful the sweat glistens across her skin;

The way Bucky dips his head into her to pepper kisses on her neck, the way his brows furrow when he gives a particularly deep thrust. Every single thing about it was beautiful.

Bucky felt so thick inside of her and he's hitting so deep, it felt fucking incredible. She can feel the pressure building inside of her, "i'm gonna cum again... oh god, bucky baby,-- ahh fuck-- "

Bucky encouraged her with with low growl and she moaned raggedly as she came on his cock; squeezing him tight, and his thrusts become even wilder, "fuck yes, squeezing me so nice. Gonna cum inside ya, sweets. Will have my load leaking from your pussy baby." his groan were starting to sound more desprete.

Still high on orgasm, she nods in agreement, "yes, Bucky. Wanna feel you leaking please" She pleaded as she felt another wave of pleasure was trying to burst.

Bucky's thrusts loses it's pattern as he chased his high, "oh fuck, i'm cummin' inside ya, sweets! Fuck fuck fuck" strings of curses spilled before he let out a long moan as his cock burst on his high, filling her to the brim with his thick hot cum.

Naturally, she came as well, accompanied by a sweet mewl as her walls pulsed around him while he empties ropes and ropes of his cum inside her, whimpering into her ear.

When he's finally finished he gives a long, contented sigh he slowly lay on the bed, gently bringing her along as he rested her head on his chest. With his cock still resting in her throbbing pussy, Bucky thought of going for round two.

But when he heard the soft snores coming from his wife, he put that thought in a backlog, and instead decided to help clean his babydoll up so she could get a better rest as she deserved.

By the time she was well taken care of, Bucky scrolled through his text messages with Steve. The 'temporary in charge' was apparently also in charge of depriving life out of the two men who had assaulted Y/N.

"Are they dead yet?" Bucky prompted.

"No. They beg to though." Steve replied.

"Then, let them beg to death." Bucky ended the conversation, before placing his phone aside.

Though he takes pleasure in torturing his prey with his own bare hands however nothing is more important than being by his wife's side when she needed him the most.

Besides, those scum will live long enough for Bucky to come down there and bring hell to them himself. He will make sure of that. But until then, nothing matters to Bucky than being here for his babydoll.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

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Taglist: @melsunshine @splendidreads @florence-end @spn-obession @my-lady-of-the-various-sorrows @buuuuuuucky @raevyng @kamaria-sweet-writes @chemtrails-club @just-another-writer-05 @touchstarvedforbuckybarnes @thezombieprostitute @wifeofbarnes @oldermenaremyreligion @bemysugarbean @thischubbydumpling @barnes1031 @winterslove1917 @barnesstanbucky @butterflyimmortality @iamfandomwasted @goldensunflowe-r

[r-f-m-writes]

A Lark In a Hollow Chapter Three

Lark knew how to make adults like her. 

            She knew how to make herself clean, presentable and sweet seeming with two long brown plaits laid down each shoulder, a pink tee shirt and raggedy denim shorts that stopped just past the sharp points of her knees. She understood the different ways to speak to men and women, how she should present to strangers on the bus or her teachers at school.

            Adults like girls who speak softly and only when they’re spoken to. Adults like girls who address them properly and look them in the eyes. Adults like girls who behave like tiny grown ups, tiny women.

               Adults love little girls with good manners. 

              Mrs. Parker used to go on and on about it, pinching Lark’s cheeks and cooing at her as she dolloped another heaping scoop of mashed potatoes onto the girl’s plate. “You see how Lark finishes everything she’s given, Missy? She’s a good girl - good girl’s get ice cream for dessert."

              Dinner at the Parker house had been a staple of Lark’s routine before. After school or on the weekends Missy would ask her randomly, mumbling the invite to her phone more than to Lark, blue eyes splitting focus between whatever was on screen and her friend sitting in the swing opposite.

              Lark always said yes. Missy’s dad would pick them up within the hour in his red Mercedes, and Mrs. Parker would be at the door to greet them, hair perfect, grinning with teeth whiter than the pearls around her neck. 

              The family were rich and strange in a harmless sort of way. Lark had been friends with their daughter for years - but she never cared for her much. Missy was the sort of despondent, rude girl that Lark had mostly seen stereotyped in movies and books; Veruca Salt or Nellie Oleson. 

              She was spoiled, pretty, and frantically, crushingly alone . 

              Lark pounced on her loneliness quicker than a starving street cat to a plump mouse. She had held it, dripping wet and half dead, between her teeth since their first conversation on the playground swings as elven year olds, because she needed Missy’s family as badly as Missy needed her friendship. 

             Lark’s life had depended on it. On the dinners Mrs. Parker fed her. On the spontaneous sleepovers that let Lark rest without the fear of something happening while she slept.

             Dad overdosing. Dad wandering off into the night when he was high. A stranger barging into the apartment and hurting them because the lock on the door was broken and the chair she jammed up under its knob every night would only do so much. 

             Mrs. Parker was sweet and erratic. Mr. Parker was impassive and utterly indifferent to Lark. He didn’t speak to her and he didn’t stare at her the way other men did - low and hungry.

            Not like the man who owned the convenience store two blocks down from the apartments. He had stared at her the most of any of them, constant and starved, eyes carving into her like a physical thing, marking the tops of her shoulders and the back of her thighs.

           Lark wasn’t oblivious, she couldn’t be, it was dangerous not to know how men saw her, what they would try to do if she got close enough.

           Lark would never have allowed the clerk to touch, but she let him look for the steep price of ten dollars on weekends and sometimes after school.

            As a minor, it was illegal for her to work stocking shelves or manning the till - forget hauling huge boxes of beer from forklifts into the back of the store like she did on most Saturday afternoons or being responsible for throwing away expired food.

           He knew having her work there was as wrong as him trying to steal glances up her skirt, Lark knew that if she went to the police her ‘boss’ would be in jail before she could say boo. 

           She might have mentioned it to him one muggy afternoon when he tried to cut her pay, and then again a week later when she decided her work was worth fifteen dollars an hour, not ten. 

           Lark knew how to make adults like her, but more than that, she knew how to make them do what she wanted, leading them around by the tether of her will without them ever noticing. 

           When Mr. Hollow pulled up to a sprawling wood log cabin carved into wild, bright green mountainside, a scatter of deer rushing away from its front porch at the sound of the engine, Lark prayed she could make him like her, too. 

            Because there wasn’t another house for miles and the closest town was two hours away by car.

           Her heart was in her throat when he climbed out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side, pulling open the door and holding out a hand for her as she lowered herself down on shaky legs. 

           If Christopher Hollow decided he didn’t like Lark, if he decided that he wanted to take the lock off her bedroom door, or watch the backs of her thighs all low and hungry - if he decided she wasn’t worth liking;

            There wouldn't be anyone to save her if she screamed.  

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU (ch.3)

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| you're here! AO3 Word count: 3349 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

The empire has met you with nothing but silence. 

You don’t know what you were expecting – a quiet servant, sheltered just as much as your princess was, you had no idea of what to expect from a place that was supposed to destroy any ounce of drema you still had in your tired, weak body. For all you know, all the people from the empire had beast heads instead of human ones and ran around the cattle like barbarians they are. For all you know, the Empire could have flying carriages and the methods of transporting a message from one person to another immediately – and hoarding that knowledge to themselves, like the egoistic maniacs they are. 

But, the empire is quiet. If anything, it is as normal as your country should be – if only you stepped outside of the castle walls even once to check if that’s true or not. If only you were independent enough to take the Princess by her hand and run away to the wind, searching for adventures. If only you weren’t covered in König’s cloak, sitting heavily on your shaking shoulders, if only your legs weren’t helpless from all the long days of traveling by horse. 

— Not impressed, little princess? The emperor is wild, the emperor is rude, and terrifying. He forced you to sit beside him, pressing you closely against his chest, and you never felt weak in your life. His strong, muscular form is keeping you pinned to him, stopping you from ever attempting to leave. After your last little stunt with jumping from his horse, he held you tighter than ever – by your hand, by your neck, sometimes simply grubbing you by your shoulders and hauling you like a sack of potatoes. He isn’t soft with you, isn't fragile at all – sometimes you wonder if he really thinks that he could treat a princess this way. Makes you think that he already blew off your cover, revealing nothing but endless possibilities of torture. 

— I’m not impressed by architecture that was stolen from other countries, my lord. 

— We didn’t steal anything. They agreed to join the Empire. 

— Like I agreed to marry you, sir? 

— Ja. Something like that. 

He laughs, and you force yourself to look nowhere but forward. He is smiling, and you force yourself to not imagine how his face must look right now – you try to convince yourself that he is ugly, a freaking beast, someone who shall never be called by his name – if he was normal or somewhat handsome, he wouldn’t kidnap you, right? He would just find some other princess and ask for her hand normally. 

 The empire is big, you read about it in books – but the bordering city isn’t as impressive ad you thought it would be. If anything, people here look normal. If anything, the dissonance makes you want to scream. 

König laughs when you frown at his words and pushes you from the horse. This is a small ritual now – constantly having you in his arms, your hands are finding his shoulders in a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. He might be a beast, but you refuse to die a slow and agonizing death from a broken hipbone – you’d much rather find a good knife and…

As a servant, your most important mission is to serve – to help Princess with whatever she may need. And if her illustrious Highness could not make it to the safety of various relatives of the royal family, the only thing you could do for he is to die – so you could proceed to serve her. It would be an honorable death. Much better than screaming in agony under the Emperor. 

Alas, you were here now. The first serious stop on the way to the capital. Your personal road of shame – with your face displayed openly for everyone to see and with your broken, torn dress that was only accented by tear streaks that weren’t drying on your cheeks, you were nothing close to a wife – you were a trophy. Another conquest, another fancy name to the title, and riches that can be extracted from your country. 

Your only mercy is that the Princess isn’t here to witness your shame. Unfortunately, König is. 

— Why are you so nervous, little Princess? You should get used to the sight of your husband’s body. 

The steam filling the room wasn’t nearly enough to cover his naked glory or your broken embarrassment. You would wish for the steam to fill the whole place, to cover every last inch of his scarred, somewhat tan skin. You can see the bronze of his sun lines the way he had so much scarring on his chest and stomach that it’s almost fully white. You find yourself wanting to trace the little scarring – you find yourself stopping and nearly hurting yourself over having such silly thoughts on the matter. 

To your surprise – utter, complete shock as you could not believe what you were seeing – he was still wearing a mask. The wet sack on his face was, indeed, uncomfortable – but you couldn’t even concentrate on the sight as you were too charmed while looking at his…

The water was clear, only filled with some transparent aromatic essence that smelled like metal and some healing elixirs, but it wasn’t enough to cover what was happening down his sculpted chest, perfect waist, and large, thick legs. He is built like a tree trunk, larger than any man you knew – which only made you oh so aware that you will not survive the wedding night. There is no way anything that is close to whatever was peeking from his spread legs would fit into you. Not that you know too much about reproduction anyway. 

— It’s… perverted. To see you like this. 

— Ach, meine Liebe. It’s natural for husband and wife.

— We’re not married yet, Your Highness. 

— Might as well be. I’m not letting you go anywhere. 

Despite his antics and confident demeanor, Emperor was…nervous. A little bit, yes, anxiety creeping to his form while he was too distracted by looking at your scared face and trembling hands – he knows that you’re a princess, a being with a fragile mind and weak stature. You can think that he is ugly – that his body, maimed on the battlefield and belonging to the war, not the bedroom, resembles more of a monster than the one of a husband. 

You can faint right now – he can see the trembling of your hands, the way your lips are quivering and shaking. You were crying almost the whole ride, only stopping to eat or argue with him, and while he adores your pouty face and miserable expression, it only made him understand more just how dangerously fragile you are. 

All the battles he fought, and now he is scared of what his bride will think of him. 

— I’d advise against looking at old soldier like this, Liebe. I might get…ideas. 

He laughs, but there is underlying anxiety behind this laugh. You look at him, blink a few times, heat spreading across your cheeks. You used to bathe the princess, so various toiletries and elixirs are nothing new to your sight. Of course, König doesn’t use rose water and fragile colored salts – his bath smells like pinewood, like blood and metal, nothing you were used to. 

You aren’t sure what traditions the empire has, but you never heard that the wife is supposed to bathe her husband – especially if said wife is a princess. Your hands are used to work, you can almost imagine a princess playing in her marble bath as you go around with cleaning cloth and make sure she doesn’t have to even lift a finger – but you suspect that acting like a loyal servant would only break your cover of a spoiled, treasured creature. 

— Ideas? What are those, your royal…

— Call me König. 

— I won’t call the name of the conqueror. 

— But you’re fine with calling me Your Highness. Full of contradiction, princess. 

You call him like that because it helps you to pretend that everything is fine. That princess is here with you, that you are going to bathe her for the evening, then take on her precious jewels to warm them up before they would go on her body – that you could do everything for her, whatever she needs. That your life still has a purpose other than lying and hoping for a quick death. 

But, König is perfect in the bath – you can’t pry your eyes from his muscles. Not a statue worthy, exactly, because they would spend too much marble on a statue of his size – but you beg to allow yourself to trace his scars, blue veins, little tan lines that were going all the way down his…

— I won’t force you to bathe me yet. 

— I appreciate your modesty. May I leave? 

He laughs, turning away from you. Showing you his back – predators would use it as a sign of assigned weakness, but you are mesmerized by even more scars covering him. Just how can a man survive this many stabs in the back? Almost made you want to put a few new ones, just as a little treat. 

König turns away from you and, with a swift motion of his hand, removes the wet hood from his face. You look away immediately, not wanting to look in the face of a monster – putting human features into your nightmares would break you fully. He chuckles softly, tracing his hand to yours – not allowing you to leave, no matter how much you wanted to simply ran away. 

— Wash my hair first, little princess. This is empire tradition, ja? 

— It’s a work for…

You bite your tongue before you can say “servants”. You tried to play the role of a spoiled brat, and not having to work felt nice – but you can only see the long, wavy red hair running from under the hood, free of containment. You want to touch the fiery locks, play with them and put some flowers inside – the urge to care for someone, to do your job as a royal dog, is rooted deeply in your body. 

— A wife must serve her husband, no? Come on, put your royal hands to work. — I believe you have servants for this. 

— I do. And I want you to wash my hair. — It’s really…

— I’d love you to wash some other things, in that case. My hair isn’t the only thing that is long. 

You gulp, trying desperately not to slap him. König is crude, like an old soldier – because he is one, as you are reminded constantly. Not a fragile and attentive prince from your dreams, but a horrible monster who’d love to simply use you like a freaking…a freaking something. His wife, you’d say before, but the princess and royal consort won’t be used like a lowly servant. Nothing in your soul stirs again, washing him whole – and this is why you’re nervous. The desire to serve is going to break your cover. Break you.

God, his hair is beautiful. 

Long and thick, ginger with hints of early silver – you could touch it the whole day, trace every lock, and play with loose strands. Maybe putting them in braids, just about a billion of them – he’d look perfect with touches of gold and bronze, with something to accent the beauty of his hair, something for…

God, you almost started to like him. Or, more naturally, his hair. Same thing – and terrifying at it. 

You gently flush his locks with warm water, feeling the softness under your fingertips. This is a job you’re familiar with – you braid his hair with surprising ease, playing with the softness as much as your heart desires. If you close your eyes, you can almost pretend that you’re with your princess, cheering her up with some silly stories and fairytales you both were reading like a holy book. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend that the world will end when you open it. 

But, the emperor – your emperor, if nothing would happen to prevent it – wants you to look at him. But, he is securing his face with a second, thinner mask that doesn’t intrude into the process of washing his hair. You don’t ever try to peek at his expression, too terrified of him actually having scales and furr – even though you can see his skin fully, and it doesn’t resemble the one of a monster. 

— Don’t close your eyes, little princess. 

— How could you…

— Good soldier always pays attention to his surroundings. Water is a perfect mirror, meine Dummes Mädchen. 

You don’t know what he just called you – and, quite frankly, you couldn’t care less about the opinion of a person who kidnapped you, who endangered your princess and tried to force her into marrying him, an old bastard of an emperor, the worst person imaginable, the…ah, but he does have great hair. And you are just a sheltered lady in waiting, frail maiden with no prospects of romantic love – even as much as stealing a glance at the stable boys when you were of their age would make Princess incredibly jealous. 

Now you have the full attention of the one whose hand in marriage was the most feared and the most desirable – and you don’t know whether you truly want to dismiss it, or to give it a…ah, no, you’re daydreaming again. Perhaps all this work on his hair made you delirious, made you think he may actually be a decent human being. To hell with him and to hell with his gorgeous, fiery hair. 

Hair that you…already made into a thick braid. You were thinking too much, dwelling on the past like an old lady of the castle – and now, the nostalgia for having to braid princesses’s hair is almost unbearable. You took the aromatic oil – even more pine with a rich, expressive scent that made you wince. 

Emperor laughs, a little rumble coming from his chest. He touches his hair, thick fingers going into even thicker locks. You were expecting to be killed for such frivolity – then you remember that, oh god, you are not a servant anymore. Husbands have their ways of disciplining disobedient wives, as you think from rare romantic books you were able to get from the library, and you don’t even want to imagine what those ways could be. 

— You’re good with your hands. I wonder what else you could play with. 

— I can play lyre and piano. 

— Ach, what about flutes? 

The implication makes your cheeks burn. You can’t tug his hair in fear of the punishment, so you simply huff in frustration and start dropping oil beads into his hair. It’s a surprise for such a manly and strong soldier to have scented oil in collection for his bath – if anything, you thought he would be a murderous beast who never takes a bath and prefers to wash his hair in the blood of his enemies. Alas, he smells of pinewood and clean water – you force yourself not to push his hair up to your nose, inhaling his essence. So different from the rose oils and flower extracts you were using for the Princess, but…perhaps you miss your old life too much. 

König stirs nervously in the bath. He knows that having a scented oil for his hair and body isn’t something that he usually does – his manliness is coming up with little cries of frustration every time he smells the essence on his skin. It’s not something a soldier should not – maintaining his hair in empire fashion, long and wavy, is hard enough, taking too much time to prepare in the morning, and comes as a horrible challenge in battles – but he sees the way your face lit up when you took his hair into your hands and, well…god, he is getting sappy over a little princess. It might just be his downfall. 

He is anxious about your opinion of him – not because he thinks you really have a choice in marrying him, but because he doesn’t want you to hate this marriage. He got quite a few concubines who loved his rank and even more enemies who hated his guts yet were still available for pleasure – but you, his dearest bride, shouldn’t hate him. Not too much, at least. 

— What do you think? 

— About what, Your Highness? 

You speak those words so quickly, it’s a surprise for him. Is the king, your father, so strict that his beloved daughter had to always address him by his title? Do you hate König so much that you force that abyss between you and him with ease at the click of your tongue? 

Your hands are good with washing his hair, your manners are excellent for someone who grew up spoiled and pampered – he thought that he’d have to spank the brattiness out of you and buy your affection with expensive gifts, but so far, you were just a sassy mouth and smart tongue. 

You are…weird, for a princess. Really, really weird. 

— About the essential oil. Not so soldier-like, ja? 

There is nervousness in his voice. It’s absurd – he had fought countless of battles, but he is scared of what this spoiled girl can think of him. He is the ruler of the largest empire on the continent – yet he is as scared as a little boy just stepping into knighthood. You’re making him soft, and he almost wants to drown in your touches, eat from your hand and force you on your knees so he can bury his head between your legs and show you what a real treat feels like. 

— I don’t think there is anything wrong with smelling good, Your Highness. Unless you appoint your fighting abilities with smelling like a wet dog. 

— You like it. 

— I am fine with it. As far as I’m aware, I should not touch your naked body before the wedding. 

— You’re lucky I adore your pouty face too much to whip you. 

— I’m glad that I’m lucky then. 

He can’t take it – not with your adorable expression and shaky hands, not with how tender you were with his hair, like he was made of glass. He is the strongest fighter in his country, the one who managed to capture dozens of terrible supernatural beasts – yet he never had anyone touch him so…softly. Your fingers are delicate, your touches are gentle, and he feels almost fragile. None of the rare concubines ever came as sincerely in their desire to please him – even when mixed with hatred. 

He grabs your hand and pushes you to the bath with him – the expensive nightgown he had gifted you when you came to the bordering Empire city is now heavy with water. You whimper immediately, all the sass escaping your body when he first touches your collarbones, your wrists, traces your burning face, and forces you to look at him. König almost rips his mask from his face, only stopping because he wanted to show himself at the wedding – as to not ruin the surprise. 

You try to run from his hold, wet clothes clinging to your body, revealing way more than you wanted to – every curve and trace of your figure is now open for him to devour. His burning desire is evident in the water – so you don’t look in between his legs, deciding to simply turn away even as he pushes you closer to him. Like a little kid, and you feel…

This is so like the old times, with Princess and her little pranks – and you can’t help but sob into his chest, the overwhelming recognition that nothing will ever feel quite the same as before. He soothes you with a hand on your back, making you hide your face in his chest and cry to all your heart’s content – the smell of pine wood filling your nostrils, further speaking on how utterly alone you are. 

You sob in his chest, allowing your emperor to touch you as he pleases. For some reason, you find comfort in this. 

[plor-bindery]

Bound: Long Haul by @wolfpants

As a writer, I often am fondest of my shorter stories, but these fics are not the obvious choice for binding because they're so little. I actually started setting this story a while ago but put the typeset aside when I realized it was going to be such a low page count.

But more recently, I have been experimenting with a pamphlet bind to see if short stories and/or text blocks can be bound to my satisfaction, and yep! They can!

I love this short story by wolfpants and I have read it often enough that it deserved to be bound and put in my library. The story contains lovely delicious smut and (as you'd expect from wolf) excellent character-building, dialogue, and just exactly the right amount of realism. Wolf writes true adult characters and I adore this about their writing.

More about process and materials under the cut!

Materials: This is a quarto letter pamphlet bind using letter-sized 24# paper. The end papers are chiyogami acquired in Montreal. Book boards are actually cut from matte board that came in some packet of supplies or another, about 1 mm thickness and quite a bit bendier than my usual 2 mm book board, but worked nicely and feels appropriate for this little baby.

Book cloth is wooqu off Amazon as per. I sewed the pamphlet using three strands of waxed embroidery floss. Spine is strengthened with mull and a little strip of the same paper as the text block. Cover decoration is HTV vinyl. A few titles are foiled with toner-activated foil and a laminator. (Big shout-out to @sits-bound for technical assistance with figuring out that process!)

Process: This is a sewn 64-page/16 sheet quarto. I followed DAS Bookbinding's YouTube video here pretty closely except (as you can see) I went for a full cloth bind. I also added the paper layer on the spine before wrapping in cloth. I did this because I found mull alone — at least my cheap-ass mull — was not making for a smooth spine. The paper was a huge help on this front.

This is actually my third attempt at this style of binding (not counting the versions I did in class under adult supervision) so please do not be too impressed, lol.

The whole thing is held together by 50/50 corn starch/PVA mix (as well as the thread.)

I trimmed the tail twice by accident so then I had to trim the head twice too, and so that's why my margins are slender. :D

The HTV decoration was designed by yours truly (if you look at it for very long you'll be like "oh yeah I can see that" ahahaha) but I was really pleased with how it came out. I think I'm FINALLY finding my successful approaches for applying HTV. And yes, it was a monumental pain in my ass to weed. Worth it!

Peep the grease mark on the front title page. Sexy. No idea where it's from but yowza.

Bind short fic! Short fic also deserves binding! *steps off soapbox*