#what could be sweeter?? than the love of such a good and honorable man????

[wildsaltair]

how DARE he show off that arm muscle in the last two pictures if I can’t passionately kiss it immediately

Gladiator

[thevillainswhore]

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears. 

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him. 

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down. 

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since. 

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right. 

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class. 

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.” 

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.” 

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”  

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair. 

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”  

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“ 

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance. 

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over? 

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair. 

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating. 

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it. 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long. 

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress. 

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock. 

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee. 

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away. 

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour. 

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that. 

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow? 

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place. 

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind. 

What if you were his perfect route for revenge? 

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college. 

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over. 

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved. 

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble. 

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse. 

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one. 

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you. 

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels. 

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too. 

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.  

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.  

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career. 

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen. 

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?” 

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.” 

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud. 

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.” 

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.” 

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.” 

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?” 

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of. 

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.” 

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?” 

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you. 

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?” 

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!” 

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled. 

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats. 

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant. 

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table. 

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven. 

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.” 

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.” 

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.” 

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop. 

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.” 

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.” 

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.” 

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table. 

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!” 

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.” 

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it. 

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset. 

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. 

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.” 

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.” 

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table. 

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten. 

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you. 

Not that he was complaining. 

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you. 

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.” 

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”  

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted. 

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.” 

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.” 

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor. 

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.” 

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.” 

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged. 

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it. 

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.” 

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.” 

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness. 

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto  his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”  

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.” 

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.” 

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread. 

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt. 

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.” 

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house. 

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?” 

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.” 

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up. 

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?” 

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.” 

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!” 

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you. 

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?” 

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.” 

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.” 

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.” 

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?” 

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously. 

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?” 

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.” 

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.” 

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.” 

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear. 

Jackpot, he smirked to himself. 

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?” 

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?” 

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“ 

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?” 

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.” 

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.” 

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?” 

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.” 

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“ 

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.” 

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it. 

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.” 

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.” 

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.” 

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.” 

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair. 

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips. 

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?” 

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands. 

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.” 

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.” 

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.” 

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak. 

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?” 

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move. 

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you. 

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position. 

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you. 

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.” 

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him. 

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself. 

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.” 

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.” 

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.” 

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound. 

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again. 

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky  that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you. 

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!” 

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.” 

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more. 

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.” 

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you. 

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man. 

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly. 

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.” 

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer. 

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.” 

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole. 

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!” 

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his. 

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.” 

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.” 

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.” 

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you. 

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?” 

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him. 

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.” 

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy. 

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.” 

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.” 

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you. 

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets,  but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears. 

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?” 

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!” 

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.” 

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?” 

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of. 

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.” 

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app. 

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.” 

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane. 

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.” 

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further. 

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet. 

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high. 

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.” 

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.” 

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you.  Please, it’s you!” 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.” 

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan. 

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?” 

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle. 

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.” 

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?” 

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.” 

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.” 

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.” 

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter. 

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy. 

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating. 

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.  

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.” 

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat. 

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop. 

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him. 

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you. 

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers. 

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?” 

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.” 

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee. 

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”  

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump. 

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.” 

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.” 

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen. 

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up. 

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey. 

[justwinginglife]

'Til Death Do Us Part

Okay I never trigger warning cuz I don't like spoiling plot, but this one is about abusive relationships, this one is depressing, and this one does not end well. I wanted to write a fic based off of the song "Lie to Girls" in honor of Sabrina Carpenter's new album, but the song hit too hard, and the depression kicked in too hard hence depressing fic. And of course, I did not think anyone in Kaiju would be destructive and unhealthy enough for this fic so I'm writing about Manjiro Sano from Tokyo Revengers when he's older (in the future). That's all, proceed with caution.

You knew Mikey was a mess. 

If anyone asked, you’d deny it over and over. You’d keep denying it until your throat bled, the sting of those same, acidic words clawing their way back up like they’d triggered your gag reflex. You denied it so much, like you hoped it would become the truth, hoped your reality would morph into the falsities that you spewed.

You also knew that loving him was a decision, a conscious choice, an ongoing commitment you’d devoted yourself to time and time again. Yet, when pressed, you still claimed that loving him was unavoidable, that you were simply unable to unlove him, unable to resist. 

So, when he’d come home fucked up from his latest fight, blood smeared on his hands, the devil lurking in his eyes, you’d simply welcome him inside, arms spread wide, a warm smile at the ready. You didn’t know whose blood you were cleaning off his knuckles, or if that person was lying dead in some back alley somewhere, but you hummed to yourself and tended to him anyway, swallowing the unpleasant thoughts down. 

“How was your day today, baby?” You’d coo to him as though he had just come back from his 9 to 5, just another day in the office. 

He’d mumble something incoherent and pull himself off of you, trudging to the kitchen, eager to drown his demons. If your liquor cabinet ever found itself empty, he’d probably down the rubbing alcohol next, just to have something, to have anything to numb his humanity. 

You made your best attempts to coax his softer side out, reminiscing about the older days, the sweeter days, the gentler days. But those were days he’d rather not remember. Your greatest treasures, your most cherished memories, they did nothing more than remind him of a time when he was happy, of a time when he was more than the monster he’d become. 

You made his favorite meals, put on his favorite shows for him to watch, tried to make him feel comfortable, to make him feel loved. But he didn’t know how to love you anymore. He’d long forgotten emotions like love. He’d rejected emotions like love. And you knew that. But still, you’d convince yourself that your husband would come home one day, that the man who’d smiled so wide when you agreed to marry him that you worried his cheeks might burst, would walk through the doors at any moment, hands clean, eyes lit up, as he said to you, “Sorry for keeping you waiting, love.”

So you told yourself the most sickeningly sweet lies. Drowned yourself in delicious deceit. Got drunk on a version of him that no longer existed. 

Sometimes, the delusion was strong enough that you could convince yourself that you even loved the beast that he’d become. That you didn’t mind the steel in his gaze, didn’t mind the ice in his demeanor, didn’t mind the venom in his voice. He pushed you away to protect you. He pushed you away because he loved you. He pushed you away because he couldn’t control the sheer depths of feelings for you. That was it. 

He’d never forget your birthday. He’d never forget your anniversary. He was just late. He was just picking up a gift somewhere. It was going to be the most magnificent gift you’d ever seen. He was just stuck in traffic. 

The cops that frequented your doorstep didn’t know what they were talking about. Your friends didn’t know what they were talking about. Mikey’s friends didn’t know what they were talking about. No one knew him but you. You knew he was a good guy. You knew he wouldn’t do the things they said he did. You knew he was coming home any minute, just waiting for you to welcome him, just needing you to believe him, just needing you to love him. He’d saved your life so many times, this was the one thing you could do to repay him. You could love him through anything. You would love him through anything. Whatever this was, this was a phase. This was a rough patch. All marriages had them. Yeah. This was normal. 

And when he’d forget your name, hurl insults at you, get so drunk he threatened you with a broken glass bottle to get out of his house, you still ignored the aching in your chest. Your heart wasn’t broken, it wasn’t empty, it wasn’t lonely, it was simply on sabbatical. Even as the tears burst from your eyes, even as the bruises on your wrists deepened in color, you swore you loved him. You swore you’d love him until the day you died. 

And when the day came sooner than you thought, when the bodies of your friends, of his friends, filled the morgue, the stench of betrayal and rotting flesh ripe in the air, when his cold eyes, his distant eyes, finally found your gaze, finally looked straight at you, for the first time in months, his gun digging itself deep into your forehead, you still swore to yourself that he loved you, swore to yourself that you loved him. And when he hesitated, you swore you saw a glimpse of the old Mikey. You swore you were looking into your husband’s eyes. 

Then he pulled the trigger.

[gravehags]

Your choice of Papa or ghoul/ghoulette f!reader can be NSFW or not.

New sibling of sin jumpy over everything. Every little sound.

Hope this helps!!

the ghovie got my on my papa iv shit. something sweet for you :)

~~~

"Shit."

The clatter of your dropped mop echoes in the marble room and you look guiltily at the mausoleum occupants as if you've somehow disturbed their rest. You didn't think you were easily freaked out before you joined the Ministry but ever since moving in as a novice after your unholy baptism you've been on edge. The sister who assigned the duties around the abbey must have smelled the fear on you when she tightly smirked and informed you you would be working graveyard cleaning duties in the Emeritus crypt. Bitch, you think sourly as you push your reacquired mop into your bucket and slide it along the floor. You didn't know what you had expected when you joined the Ministry but the precarious social hierarchy is not something you particularly excel at. More than anything you just want to catch a glimpse of Papa once more. When you attended your first ritual and watched him on stage in those tight pants and sequined jacket you were enthralled - and that was before he even started singing. Your infatuated sigh echoes in the dimly lit room as you think about his big, gloved hands and what they could do to--

"Eh, hello."

"Fucking shit!" you shriek, once again dropping your mop and spinning on the spot with your hand over your mouth. The person standing before you winces. He's slight and wears a red velour tracksuit over a black shirt that says something you can't see from your position. On his feet are black dress shoes and his hands - currently anxiously clasping each other - sport black leather gloves. When you look at his face - bare except for the black paints around the eyes and upper lip you've come to associate with most upper clergy - it takes you a minute of squinting before you're able to mentally apply the rest of the makeup.

"Oh God," you breathe, "You're him."

"God?" he asks, "Eheh, no I'm definitely not him."

You force yourself to not roll your eyes.

"No," you say, taking a tentative step towards him, "You're Papa."

"Ah," he says, nodding with a nervous little smile, "Yes. I am...he."

There's something so different about the short, slender man who stands before you in comparison to his oversized stage presence. This man is softer, sweeter, and his demeanor immediately sets you at ease.

"I was at the Albuquerque ritual," you blurt out, "Last year's tour? I...you were wonderful. I hadn't heard the band before that night but afterwards I went home and spent all night listening to your music. It's...it's why I joined the Ministry."

"I'm honored, sorella," he murmurs, taking a small step towards you, "And now you're eh, stuck here doing graveyard mop duty."

Oh yeah. You have a job you should be doing. A job that you're neglecting in front of your boss.

"Shit, sorry, let me just--"

"No, no!" he interjects, reaching out to you as you start to stoop to pick up your mop. "We are having such a nice conversation. Will you sit with me?"

He gestures to the lone marble bench in the room and your heart skips a beat.

"O-Of course, Papa," you say, stepping over and slowly lowering yourself. He follows suit, groaning slightly as he sits. A comfortable silence passes between the two of you when he gestures up at one of the crypts.

"That's my dad," he says. You squint at the name inscribed on the marble.

"Papa Nihil," you murmur, "I love the songs he put out."

Papa's lips turn down in a frown and he looks at you askance.

"They're not that good," he mutters, crossing his arms.

"Not as good as 'Life Eternal'," you say, tangling your fingers in your lap, "Shit, that sounded like such ass-kissing, I am so sorry--"

Papa's frown morphs into a gentle smile, his mismatched eyes glittering in the low light.

"You liked Prequelle?"

"Liked it? It's...it's my favorite."

The way he puffs out his chest and looks ridiculously smug makes you giggle.

"I cried the first time I heard 'Life Eternal' - that night when I got home from the ritual? Must have been 3 am and I was sitting on my apartment balcony listening to the album from my shitty portable speaker. I think that was the moment I decided to come here."

"I...I am very pleased to hear that, sorella. How do you find the Ministry so far?"

Ah.

"I um..." you begin, chewing on your bottom lip, "It's..."

"I know exactly what you mean," Papa nods with a sigh.

"Don't get me wrong," you say hastily, "I don't regret my decision it's just...a lot like high school so far."

Papa snorts.

"It is. And if you don't know the right people or say the right things or fit in the way you should you end up-" he gestures at the cold room you both currently sit in "-here. On shitty graveyard shift surrounded by dead papas. A fate I do not think you deserve, sorella."

"You...you don't?"

"Nah," he confirms. He pauses a moment as if considering something and then turns to you.

"Are you eh, any good with computers? Paperwork?"

You laugh.

"I was a secretary in my uh...past life. Had to take it up after my art career flopped. Why do you ask?"

Papa raises a hand to smooth the skin on his upper lip as if he's used to hairs being present there.

"I've been meaning to hire an assistant," he says slowly and your heart stops, "Sister's been chewing my ass out about it. You interested?"

Interested? In working with directly with the man responsible for you changing your whole life? The man you spent an entire concert sighing over, your heart pounding in your chest?

"Papa, I would be honored," you murmur. He gives you a smile and makes a goofy little noise.

"Perfetto!" he says, clapping his hands and rising to his feet. You do the same, a ridiculous grin on your face.

"I'll eh, notify the right people. Ah shit, I don't even know your name."

You tell him and when he repeats it back to you you nearly faint at the sound of it coming out of his mouth. He smiles once more and turns to leave when you boldly reach out a hand and touch his arm.

"Papa...thank you. For everything. I mean it."

He waves a hand at you and even in the dim light of the mausoleum you can see his cheeks turn pink. The sight delights you.

"It's nothing. Buonanotte, sorella. And eh, fuck the mopping. Go to bed."

You laugh.

"If you say so. Good night, Papa."

He gives you one last smile and nod and leaves the crypt. And if your eyes are on the movement of his rear as he exits the room, you'll never tell.

[ghuleh-recs]

In honor of @anamelessfool’s birthday I have made us all a mixtape of my personal must-reads from her incredible arsenal of fanfiction. You are not ready for how brilliant her writing is. There is truly something for everyone. Whether you’re a reader-insert enjoyer, a terzomega enjoyer, or even a late-1970s noir mystery enjoyer—Fool’s got you covered. Tight plotting, satisfying characterizations, and lovingly constructed lore can be found in every single one of her creations. Her world building is unmatched and never fails to blow my mind. Don’t even get me started on her young papa portrayals. I frequently have to kick my feet and scream into my pillow over how wonderful (and sometimes heartbreaking) they are.

To top it off, Fool is a terrific artist and such an interesting and lovely person. Have you seen @resin-popia?! What can’t she do?

Please do yourself a favor and check out the recs below. Be sure and leave some bday comments and kudos if you do! Like I said, there is something for everyone.

Recs under the cut.

Violence & Gentleness - Primo x OC

You made me forget myself...I thought I was someone else, someone good... LATE OCTOBER 1979 Primo has his work cut out for him as the bodyguard of the beautiful and fearsome Mater Emerita Jocasta. As mystery after mystery unfolds, it becomes harder to remain a honest man in this den of thieves called the Ministry.

For One Creature's Sake - Primo and Copia

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it."- Frankenstein's Monster Moments in Primo's and Copia's lives.

Ribbons & Ties - Terzo x Omega

For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.

Reciprocity - Terzo x Omega

Terzo and Omega spend a tender afternoon together. Nothing bad ever happens to them ever again.

No Deal - Nihil x F!Reader

1970Nihil was one of these friends of friends of friends. Some forty-something cat who lived further up in the mountains, in what you suspected was some sort of commune. Shit like that was pretty common around here. The higher up in the mountains, the weirder folks got. Could be the altitude. You've decided to live a quiet bohemian life, but one of your clients Nihil has plans for you that afternoon other than just chatting about the latest albums.

Sweeter Red - Copia x OC

Your kiss so sweet, your sweat so sour…sometimes I’m thinking that I love you... but I know it’s only lust. Copia is a scrungly little nerd and this totally happened to him. There's something about Cardinal Marian. Maybe it's the way she infuriates him with her laissez-faire attitude, or ingnites his soul with envy of her free spirit. Rage and love, at a certain point they merge together into an overwhelming burning in the heart and mind: passion.

VIII Strength - Copia x GN!Reader

VIII STRENGTH Strength (Physical and Will), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Copia is a pent up sort of man, he always has been. He enjoys being Papa but on his worst days the title has a near physical weight pressed across his shoulders. He comes home to you, and you can tell when it's been one of those days. Luckily, he has you to guide him.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[senka-mesecine]

I remember a while back you wrote some headcanons for Chris loving Barnes wife and then one earlier where he loved an unnamed relative (both were great btw), but I think especially in those scenarios Chris’ darker kinks would come out, and maybe even a bit of Rhahs influence (comparing them to Lilith, ladies of the night etc)

Also imo rhah would have a degradation/praise kink, probably in the same sentence, and a dacryphilia kink

---

I mean, it's weirdly logical, because see, if Chris views the type of man Barnes was as everything wrong with the world, as the devil, as a savage, as a lunatic, as someone not right in the head, as someone who needs to be killed for the greater good, as someone too far gone to be saved, as someone who he's gonna carry with himself for the rest of his life, you name it...what would he see someone like, say, Barnes's figurative significant other as? You know, someone who was willingly with a man like that in the first place? Stands to reason that if Barnes was the devil, his wife's quite literally the devil's whore, not to sound like Rhah over here, but yeah. No matter if she's possibly the most well adjusted, nicest person ever; something has to have been wrong with her to be with Barnes, no? That's the logic at hand here. If Chris rotated back to the world and ever found the woman whose very husband he's personally killed, well, I don't know why or how, but I almost see him developing an obsessive fixation on her.

She's both the widow of the worst man he's ever met and yet Chris is exact the reason why she's a widow in the first place. He did this to her. There might be an honorable need for him to set the record straight and check up on her because in effect, Taylor isn't a bad person and he has a conscience, maybe even the tendency to be a bit of an overidealistic white knight and yet, simultaneously, he might just deep down think that Barnes's wife could very well be as bad as Barnes and that someone should keep an eye out for her and that someone should be him.

He is speculative of her, yet protective.

Possessive, yet paranoid.

Judgmental, yet unexpectedly empathetic.

He feels responsible, yet feels like he doesn't owe her shit.

He condescendingly might be convinced she needed to be saved by someone before she could've ever tied to herself to a guy like that and that that someone doing the saving could've been him in some figurative scenario and at the same time also feel that she deserved what she got by being with Barnes.

He feels ownership over her, yet simultaneously doesn't want anything to do with her.

He is wreaked with guilt, yet thinks he made the right choice killing her husband.

Would do it all over again.

Oh, the conflict.

He possibly feels extremely bad over her grief because he's the cause of it all while being convinced Barnes brought it upon himself and the sweeter and more outwardly kind and commonplace the widow proves to be --- you know, she's just a person and not the horned one himself --- the more Chris's conflict deepens and he goes out of his way to find reasons on why every tear she's shedding over that animal is well deserved. When he finds no reason? Yeah, the darkness you mentioned really starts rearing it's ugly head mingled with frustration of the most pathological kind.

And ironically? Chris Taylor ends up seeming more like Barnes than ever before.

Almost like a prophecy ends up self-fulfilling.

He starts resembling, behavior-wise, the very man he murdered.

Because, hey, the only person who can kill Barnes is Barnes, right?

Rhah himself predicted this.

You know how reincarnation is a reoccurring motif in this story? Chris Taylor could be there, pushing the teary-eyed widow against the wall, slamming his fist against it, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him, demanding that she stop sniveling and being so damn aggrieved over a worthless piece of crap that her deceased husband was and it's almost like Barnes found a way to come back from beyond the grave and return to what's his in another form; because it's not like death itself would ever stop him.

[ionianwanderer]

can you save my bastard soul? --      Drinking hadn't always been something he'd turn to to cope. It happened as a trickle. Days he'd be frustrated with himself, with his family, or with his studies– he'd turn to it. One constant was the slow burn down his throat and the warmth that followed. Enough to make you loosen up– that's as far as he'd indulge, he reassured everyone that. There's moments where he deflects when Yone asks about it, he even teases his brother that he cant handle his own liquor. No one had to know just how wonderful this sweet ichor became a crutch for him.

     It isn't until the war has reared its ugly head at the gates of his village that it changes, a gentle inviting trickle begins to drown him. A wanted man, how could he not indulge? It doesn't matter what he did or didn’t do after all as he's shunned and hunted by the very people he considered family. A drink holds his consciousness in a state of suspense. Could he dwell long enough on the past as soon as the smooth taste of sake hit his tongue? Unlikely. He'd learned to nurse each sip carefully, the hangover staved off by months of practice of knowing his limit to which he always pushed further and further each and every time.      And when Yone– he hates to remember. So he continues to indulge and forget. A lovely little light hearted word. Yes he simply indulged in his drink. He wasn't running. He never did. It becomes a constant as restless nights filled with night terrors cling to him like a second skin and run him ragged. But whiskey and sake always quieted the world, the running, the nightmares-- and without it… it was torture. He’d learned to hold his head high while knocking back glass after glass. Being sober meant remembering and he was trying to forget. So another round came and went.      Though indulging certainly had its price. Once bubbly, ditzy, and social after a few sips became something worse-- cold and angry, outbursts in the middle of taverns; everything he tried to keep locked down inside of him clawed its way out of his chest and tore through what little of a facade he had left. He had to sit with it, this thing he nursed so gingerly that shredded what little composure he had about everything that had grown bigger than him. For once in his life, he felt so small-- a man once holding himself so highly reduced to a drunken murderer.      The anger turns inward and the cycle begins anew. Traveling between villages and cities it always begins and ends the same: a bar, a few drinks, an unnecessary altercation, and the consequences of such. It goes on for months until the scars from fights that escalated became too many to count. And briefly-- briefly he considers cutting the drinking completely, but temptation is sweet and when this is all you’ve known for a majority of your life it makes letting go all that much harder.      He watches himself, rationalizes drinking socially to celebrate or to just have a moment to breathe. He reflects after a few sips-- picking up shattered pieces of his memories and puzzling them back together to where they make a clearer image. Something he begins to hold dear instead of just the sweet burn of alcohol. He thinks eventually he’ll have the strength to put it all back together again, each piece good and bad made him who he was and that was something he’d have to live with.      He never admitted it but he held onto the lessons Yone taught him, even if it was too late. Now instead of raising his drink to pity himself he raises it in honor of his fallen kin and as liquor creeps past his lips it tastes bittersweet. Ever since it’s been easier to let go-- to allow himself to feel and weep. Life tends to be that much sweeter when emotions are allowed to exist and be worked through. He doesn’t drink to forget anymore. He’s allowed to remember.

[ruanais]

FOR AFFECTION IS SWEETER THAN ANYTHING-☆

ORDER☆ made by @ciarchivez; hello, rua !!!!! i saw you wanted to write so... pls... write... ayato... plz... 😞🙏🙏🙏💗💗💗

RECIPE; Hmm..what are Kamisato Ayato’s love languages?? :0 ooo! you’re his lover?? come on darling, spill the tea! how does the head of the Kamisato clan show his adoration for you?

☆FROSTING; f! reader, noble reader, reader is engaged to ayato :0 lovesick ayato, ayato appears in near end, chisato is reader’s close friend, uh. they’re all teasing reader btw </3 and apologised for my bad writing jiji :( also. the five love languages are included!

NOT PROOFREAD English is not my first language and idk Japanese that well so sorry if I made any mistakes </3 words are reused quite often due to my bad English :(( first time writing ayato LOL-

“LADY L/N, how does your fiancé show his love for you?” a noble lady asked, a mischievous smile formed on her face as she turned to you.

“a-ah? well..hm…there’s quite a lot.” you placed a finger onto your lips, “oh my! do tell us!” the nobles chattered like robins, their heads nodding as they agreed.

“ahahaha, of course! ahem. well, how would you like me to begin?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“hm..maybe tell us about all five of the love languages? rate them from 0-100% of how and which one he uses.” Chisato suggested, drinking her cup of tea.

“that’s a good idea! thank you Hiiragi-san. now.” you cleared your throat, “let me begin.”

❄️ -> QUALITY TIME; 60%

definition; time in which one's child, partner, or other loved person receives one's undivided attention, in such a way as to strengthen the relationship.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

ayato is a fairly busy man as all of Inazuma knows. but somehow, he always seems to have time for you and only you.

he also tends to be clingy. calling you to his office to do whatever you’re doing while he’s working on his massive piles of paperwork. or maybe taking whatever chance he has to spend time with you.

he also likes it when you feed him snacks and etc!! it’s quite a nice thing that you two have :3

❄️ -> GIFT GIVING; 90%

definition; something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance; present.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

oh my, you have to agree one of the Yashiro’s Commissioner’s main love languages are gifts :0

everyday, you’re constantly showered with pretty flowers from either Mondstadt, Fontaine, Sumeru, etc. or either you’re gifted with a cup of bubble tea, basically anything he could get his hands on for the day!

on special occasions though…you can definitely say he goes all out! giving you rare and expensive items to basically anything you want!

safe to say, many of the servants in the estate gossip about you taking advantage of him. well…used to. that is. until ayato found out and fired them :3

❄️ -> ACTS OF SERVICE 20%

definition; a language that can best be described as doing something for your partner that you know they would like.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ oooh well, acts of service are definitely!! not what he prefers! he might do a massage or make you tea, other than that? nope!

most likely, you’re the one doing that :D ayato is extremely busy almost all the time so he wouldn’t even get the chance to do it even if he wanted to -_-

although you have to say, he really appreciates it if you help him with his workload!

❄️ -> WORDS OF AFFIRMATION 50%

definition; any spoken or written words that confirm, support, uplift, and empathize with another person in a positive manner.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

this is more of a half and half since while he does do it, it’s not as often as you think.

yes, kamisato ayato definitely smooth talks wayy too much. but, for you, his fiancé, he wants to keep his words genuine. so even though they don’t come often, he throws them in your way every once in a while!! :D

okay. he does smooth talk to you. but. it’s only for him to skip his workload (to buy his beloved bubble tea ig hehe) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

❄️ -> PHYSICAL TOUCH 100%

definition; expressing and receiving affection through touch, physical closeness, and other forms of physical connection

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

okok. this man. when it comes to physical touch. is like a koala. he is most certainly sticking to your side at all times >:/ (he’s touch starved :(

if you’re in the same room with him, you’re either: holding hands, cuddling, or just sitting on his lap (okay. this is innocent yall. :( mightttttt write something suggestive tho-)

and when you’re in bed, he’s embracing you till morning and when he’s free (such a rare occurrence) he’s gonna not let you go &lt;/3)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“oh my! who would have thought that Kamisato-san would be so romantic?!” the ladies gushed as you turn pink, face buried in your hands.

“i agree, kamisato-san truly is a romantic.” chisato laughed, hand on your shoulder. “that truly is something to talk about for quite a while.”

“I-I regret telling you guys now…” you trailed off, “oh nonono! i truly wish my husband is like that! Haha~“ a young woman in her mid-twenties chuckled.

“ahh! you’re so right Saito-san! if only my lover could be this loving..” another girl named sumire spoke up.

“Ahaha, as much as I would like to continue hearing wonderful conversation about me, I’m afraid that our darling Kamisato-san to-be is going to die of pure embarrassment soon.” a new voice joins into the conversation and you all look up in shock to see ayato with a closed eye smile, a pretty bouquet in his hands.

“A-ayato?!” You shriek both in surprise and embarrassment, standing up from your seated position immediately.

“hello darling.” ayato opens his eyes to stare at you. “It seems like you all had quite the pleasant time I see. Thank you for hosting Hiiragi-san.”

He bows slightly as thanks to chisato, “although I’m afraid that I have to take my lover back to the estate now.”

“Ahaha, I understand. I shall escort you to the door?” chisato asks, a polite smile appeared on her face.

“thank you. I greatly appreciate the gesture.” He smiles back as he takes your arm. “let’s go back, shall we love?”

“a-ah. Okay. um. thank you for this wonderful time. I hope we can all meet each other soon again.” you said gratefully, your heartbeat slowly calming down.

“well? let’s go then.” ayato gently tugs you to the door as chisato leads the way. when you arrive to the enterance of the Hiiragi Estate, chisato gestures you to come closer.

when you comply, she whispers in your ear: “if he ever makes you upset, feel very welcome to tell me. but I do have a feeling that he treats you very well so let’s hope that never happens, yes?”

you nod in response. “thank you hiiragi-san” you whisper back as ayato stares at you two with a amused chuckle.

“Well then, I hope to see you again, L/n-san.” She says out loud this time. before waving goodbye and heads back to join the small group.

“..why did you have to sneak up on me like that?” You suddenly turn to ayato, “you scared the living daylights out of me!”

“ahahaha, but you had a great time gossiping about me, no?” he takes your hand into his, playing the with ring he gave you.

“that wasn’t gossiping love. I was just sharing facts.” You huff, a pout on your face.

“alright, alright. anyways, this is for you.” He said, giving you the bouquet of flowers. “I hope you forgive me for this little incident?”

“…alright then.” you take his hand and start to head towards his favourite bubble tea stand.

“this time, it’s my treat, alright? Ayato?”

“of course, Darling.”

Rua’s notes; okay. This is flopping :/ help I’m so sorry jiji :(

ruanais-do not repost, translate or use!! reblogs are very appreciated!!!

[terrestrialnoob]

For the Arcs VS Episodes: Yeah, I consider arcs one “episode” because the story isn’t complete if you only watch one part. You can’t properly judge an incomplete story, so it’s – not impossible but – extremely difficult to choose a single part as a favorite.

Season 1-4 are the Main Show, created cohesively as one show. Season 5 is where network medaling started to happen, the show was too dark and too adult, and The Lost Episodes didn’t convince the Network that the current team was going to do what they wanted, so they created Fast Forward at the same time as a soft reboot. Controversial opinion but: Fast Forward isn’t the worst. It’s not as high quality as the previous seasons, sure, but it’s far from bad. The art style isn’t bad either, just different and more reliant on computer animation than seasons 1-5. Back To The Sewers is that bad, though. Another soft-reboot before the previous reboot could even find its footing. This one actually had a bad art shift – those eyes, those fucking eyes – but I can see could have been cute if anyone competent had been involved; you know, more kiddie for the younger audience they already had by not talking down to them before deciding they needed to talk down to them.

Anyway. Turtle’s Forever is good but not great. It’s a good ending for the series, but has some aspects that could have been done better.

Personal TOP 5 Episodes:

Return to New York (Season 1 episodes 21-23) They just tear through the Foot Clan and Shredder’s home to kill him. Love this way better as a season finale than The Search for Splinter.

Reality Check – The Real World (Season 3 Episodes 19-23) Does no one want to talk about how Mikey killed an alternate version of Splinter? How Raph turns into Leo when put in charge of a team? No one? We’re just going to focus on Bad-End Donnie and how cute Leo and Usagi are? Yeah, okay. Fine.

Shredder Strikes Back (Season 1 episodes 17-18) Proper terrifying unkillable Shredder, Darkest Moment, this arc as set up for Return to New York makes their complete decimation of the Foot Clan so much sweeter.

The Big Brawl  (Season 2 episodes 23-26) Much needed Splinter development, and each turtle gets time to shine separate from their family. Like, each person, all of them, gets to show off who they are, make a friend or make an enemy, and just be able to enjoy fighting for the fun of it, for the art of it, without the threat of death (for a little while at least)

Good Genes (Season 4 episodes 23-25) Purely self-indulgent pick for this one, everyone gets some sweet, sweet angst.

Honorable Mentions:

The Ancient One-Scion of the Shredder-Prodigal Son (Season 4 episodes 14-16) Leo’s suffering arc comes to an end in the best way possible, he gets his trauma with Shredder treated and Karai slips perfectly into her new roll as Shredder 2! Man, I wish we got more of Shredder 2 instead of – the two other Shredders that didn’t need to be Shredder and could have just been their own things.

The Nano Trilogy (Season 1 episode 5, Season 2 Episode 11, Season 5 Episode 7) I loved that funky little robot.

DNA is Thicker than Watter (Season 6, episode 23) Best episode in the Fast Forward reboot, deep philosophical questions, clones. You get it.

Personal BOTTOM 5:

Dishonorable mentions: Season 7, all of it. And From Season 6: Episodes 4, 5, 8, 17, 21, 24,26 (only about a quarter of the episodes; even I, The Fast Forward Defender, didn’t think it was that redeemable).

The Entity Below (season 3 episode 6) Worldbuilding that made the world smaller and less interesting than if this episode just didn’t happen.

A Wing and a Prayer (season 4 episode 7) Bad filler

All Hallows Thieves (season 4 episode 12) Bad filler.

Reflections (Season 2 episode 9) Filler recap, maybe if it was the beginning of a season with a long break between, it’d work, but it’s totally skippable.

Ninja Tribunal (season 4 episode 26) the beginning of the end.

Weird?

Garbageman and Juncklantis (Season 1 episode 9 and season 2 episode 17) Love the Professor and his two dudes, but what the fuck?

The King (season 1 episode 16)Tribute episode, and a fucking acid trip. No logical consistency, just vibes.

The Golden Puck (season 2 episode 18) Casey loves hockey! Cowboys hate hockey? No ice in Texas? Casey’s a fucken gem!

Return of the Justice Force (season 2 episode 22) I love old people! And Retired Superheroes with a convoluted love story? Why are Mikey’s comic book characters real people?

The Lesson (Season 3 episode 13) Oh, that’s adorable! Why are we telling this story again?

I’m Curious

I had a thought just now and felt I needed to ask it. So here’s what I want to know from the 2k3 fanbase;

What are the 5 best, worst, weirdest episodes of this show?

I have a general idea what a few of the best episodes are, but I want to see what the general opinion is for the worst or oddest episodes.

Does the fan base consider arcs as a whole episode, or would a stand out episode of said arc fit better. What about the latter season compared to the first four? How do most people think of Turtles Forever, good, bad, could have been better?

I’m genuinely curious

Respond to this post if you’d like. I’d love to see everyone’s favs and least favs.

[marlena-immortale]

New Experiences: Part 1

Summary: Damiano wants to explore a new kink and is nervous to bring it up with you, but you ease his nerves. 

CW: SMUT, masturbation, anal play, choking, d/s dynamic (dom reader), dirty talk, discussion of pegging 

Word Count: 2.3k

Damiano David is a confident man. Anyone that’s met him can see it. He knows he’s hot and he doesn’t care what other people think of him, except for you. He holds your opinion very highly and definitely cares what you think about him. So when he discovers something new about himself that he wants to try out, he is very hesitant to bring it up to you. He knows that you’d never judge him and you’d probably even be into it, but his nervousness seems to still be weighing on him. 

A few weeks ago, Damiano was scrolling through Instagram when he found a post of a man dressed in panties, arching his back and bent over, with a woman’s hand on his back pushing him down. He could feel his cheeks heat up and couldn’t help but screenshot the picture (for research purposes only of course). He didn’t know why it had such an effect on him but he decided to file that away to deal with at another time. 

-------

Days later, you were out with your friends and Damiano had the whole house to himself. He lays down on your shared bed, cuddled up in the freshly-washed sheets. He opens his phone and finds the picture his mind just won’t let go of. Without realizing it, his other hand drifts down his own body, pretending it’s the girl’s in the picture, or better yet, your hand. He imagines your breath in his ear as you push him down into the mattress. His hand tucks inside his underwear and starts playing with his half-hard dick. 

He lets out a frustrated moan as he imagines your hips pressing into his ass. He puts his phone down, his imagination more than enough now, and brings his other hand down the back of his underwear, reaching in as he shifts to lean more on his side. His finger makes its way down further and he presses it lightly to his hole. He gasps at the new sensation but it turns into a moan once he decides that he really likes the feeling. He lets himself experiment a bit and starts rubbing little circles against his rim. His mind clouds with thoughts of you telling him what a good boy he’s being, moaning so loud and making such pretty noises while he explores himself. He can feel this new sensation all over his body and instantly knows that this will be a staple in his self-pleasure routine from now on. 

His other hand quickens its pace on his cock as he reaches his climax much quicker than expected. He can feel his hole contract on the very tip of his finger as he cums all over himself, his body shaking with pleasure. He sits there for a moment, processing what he just did and how good it felt, realizing that he definitely has to work up the courage to bring it up with you now. 

-------

The next day, he wakes up to an empty bed and the smell of coffee and carries himself to the kitchen to find you making espresso. You turn around to see your lovely boyfriend clad only in his snug underwear and open oversized flannel falling off his toned shoulders. A smile spreads across your face at the sight, pouring two cups of coffee. You can tell that he seems a little nervous for some reason by his hesitancy to walk closer to you like he normally would. He stays rooted by the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot, to the other, to the doorframe, and back. 

“Everything ok baby?” you ask while setting cups down on the table in front of him and pulling out the two chairs and sitting down. Damiano follows your lead and sits across from you, taking a sip from his coffee. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine…. I just have something I wanna talk to you about,” he confesses, his eyes casting down at his cup held tightly in his hands. 

You try not to get nervous yourself at his hesitancy to tell you. “Okay, what is it? You can tell me anything,” you respond, reaching to take one of his hands in your own, stroking his thumb. The gesture calms him down a bit and he takes a deep breath before replying.

“There’s something new I want to try…. like, in the bedroom,” he says, attempting to maintain eye contact the whole time. You instantly relax, a small smile now on your face, knowing it’s not anything serious and that you’d be happy to try anything he’s interested in.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe we could try…. pegging?” he says, surprised at his own hesitancy to admit his secret to you. You’re not sure why he was so nervous, it’s not like you haven’t casually brought it up before or joked around about it. In fact, you’re more than willing to try it out with him and already have some fun ideas swirling around in your head about how this could go. 

“Is that all? I’d love to fuck you darling,” you offer with a smile, threading your fingers through his own now sweaty ones. His face fills with relief and he lets go of some of the tension in his shoulders. “How about we go to my favorite sex shop and pick something out together?” you offer. 

“That sounds good. You’re really into this right? You’re not just doing this for me?” 

“Oh trust me, I am most definitely into this,” you say as you stand up and stalk over to his side of the table, climbing onto his lap, running your hands over his chest. “I can’t wait to have you trembling beneath me, my cock deep inside of you,” you whisper into his ear. You hear a soft whimper come from his mouth.  

Your words ease his worries, and also makes his heart beat a little faster and breath get a little heavier. You take his jaw into your hand and guide him to look up at you as you continue, “I’ll take it slow though baby, don’t worry. I’ll have you all stretched out and ready for me. You’ll be making such pretty noises for me, I promise it’ll feel so good”. You can see his eyes dilate and feel him getting a little excited when you shift your hips in his lap. Your hand travels lower to wrap lightly around his neck and his head tilts up, allowing you more access to feel his blood pumping under his skin. “How’s that sound baby boy? Do you like the sound of that?” 

He nods dumbly and you let him try again. “Words sweetheart,” you urge. 

“Yes, yes that sounds… really nice”.

“Yeah? Good. Why don’t you use that pretty voice to tell me exactly what you want” you whisper. It’s so easy for you to have him blushing and whimpering like putty in your hands. You just barely tighten your fingers around his throat and listen to his breath hitch and a pathetic noise leave his mouth, surprising even him. 

“I want you…” he trails off. 

“Aww, did my baby get all shy?” you coo at him. 

“I um, I want you to… I want you to shove your fingers inside me and thrust so deep I can feel you everywhere. I bet you’d just love to see me all helpless and fucked out,” he says, his bratty energy coming out in full force. His eyes are dark and lidded as he looks at you with a smirk. You raise an eyebrow, a smirk appears on your own face, seeing how he wants to play this game now. 

“You’re right baby, I would love that, to have you writhing and desperate, grinding your hips down onto me,” you say with a tight grip on his throat and the other hand slipping down to his inner thigh for emphasis. A broken whine escapes his pretty lips and you feel his erection growing against your ass. 

“But I guess you’ll just have to wait for now,” you say with a cocky smile, and swiftly lift yourself off of him with a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him turned on and missing the feeling of you on his lap. 

-------

   The next day, you’re on your way to the sex shop, Damiano practically hanging off of you as you walk to the entrance, a lazy smile plastered across both of your faces. When you get to the shop, you immediately guide him to the section in the front where you know the strap-on harnesses are. His cheeks heat up, imagining you wearing it, and his head instantly goes to burrow into the space between your neck and shoulder. You run your fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp soothingly and when you see that it’s just an embarrassed smile on his face and not anything bad, you pick out a nice leather harness and lead him to the dildo section. 

You can tell that he’s getting all shy and a little subby so you decide to play with him a bit. “Why don’t you pick out one you like, sweetheart?” you ask him, your fingers tilting his chin up and to the wall of dildos in front of you. He looks around, flustered and slightly overwhelmed by all the decisions. He’s still attached to your side, acting less bratty than usual, being too out of his element to attempt to annoy you. This sweeter side of him is just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and you plan to see just how sweet you can make him. 

“I want you to pick it out for me,” he whispers, still a little ashamed even though there’s no one nearby. 

“Are you sure baby?” you ask, honored that he trusts you to make the best decision for him. 

“Yes,” he says, nodding while pawing at your waist like a little puppy wanting all of your attention. You melt seeing him be so cute and submissive for you. 

You look to the wall of dildos and find the perfect one; a pretty pastel pink one that’s as close as you can find to Damiano’s actual size, “so you can get a taste of your own medicine,” you say with a wink, placing it in your basket. 

His blush deepens pinker than the dildo realizing that he’s intimidated by his own length. You guide him further into the store, the both of you still with stupid smiles across your face, so enamored and in love with each other. You find the lingerie section and pick out a pretty white lacy set for him, knowing he loves the feeling of lace against his skin and knowing just how sexy  he’ll look in it.

You pick up a few more supplies you’ll need for the big night and check out at the counter before walking back to the car. As soon as you put the bag in the backseat and get situated in your seat, you look over at your beautiful boyfriend and sub to find him looking more embarrassed than he has been all day which was strange considering you’re alone now and not staring at a wall of dildos. 

You look down to see the cause of Damiano’s embarrassment; the growing bulge in his pants. You smile, knowing how shy he gets about getting hard so easily. 

“Aw, my poor sensitive puppy, always so easily turned on,” you say, leaning in close, your breath on his neck and your fingers brushing gently across his clothed erection, teasing him. As soon as he whimpers and starts to buck up into your hand, you sit back up and start the car. 

“Nooo, please touch me,” he whines when you start pulling out of the parking lot. 

You laugh and respond, “Well if you behave like a good boy, I’ll give you a nice reward when we get home”. He pouts but doesn’t say anything else. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”

“Yes, I promise,” Damiano desperately responds, needing some sort of release. 

“Okay then, I want you to unzip your pants, pull your cock out, and make yourself cum,” you instruct him, keeping your eyes on the road ahead of you. His hands immediately fumble at his zipper, trying to get it down as quickly as possible. He pulls his pants and underwear down just far enough to pull himself out of them and immediately begins softly stroking. You can feel yourself getting turned on hearing his noises beside you as you navigate your car along the highway. He gasps as his thumb rubs across his tip, his head thrown back and hips moving of their own accord.    

“C’mon baby, I know you can do better than that,” you encourage him condescendingly. 

“Please, I need your hand,” Damiano begs you as he desperately strokes himself, staring at your hands clutching the steering wheel. 

“Aw honey, I know you can do it yourself. You’re being such a good boy for me,” you say. Your words bring him closer to his climax as his hand speeds up on his cock. The car fills with the beautiful sounds of Damiano’s moans and gasps and quiet whimpers of your name that barely are able to make it past his lips. He only needs a few more strokes until he’s loudly moaning and spilling all over his own hand and shirt. 

“This is gonna be fun,” you say, a big smile on your face as Damiano catches his breath, recovering from his orgasm.

[messers-moony]

Tomorrow | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: James is nervous to marry Lily so he asks his best friend how he managed to marry his wife.

A/N: I know that this is vote number one instead of number two (which won) however, I decided to scrap what I had for number two because it wasn’t good. This is better and I’ll continue to rewrite number two until it’s to my standards. I hope you understand.

His hands were sweaty. He was nervously pulling his hair which received multiple slaps from his best friend for ruining his hair. James stepped foot in the full-length mirror readjusting his bow tie while Sirius stood behind him, chuckling at his nervous best friend.

James sighed, “How’d you do it, Pads?”

“Mm?”

“How did you marry Y/n?”

Sirius chuckled, “Have you turned daft?”

James tilted his head in confusion, “You were my best man! You were there the entire time.” Sirius replied playfully.

“No, no, I mean, how did you really do it? Like step on the altar and marry her?”

“I just did?” Sirius answered, and James gave him a look, “Bullshit.”

“Okay, fine! Fine!” Sirius relented, “I was practically shitting myself. Y/n means a lot to me, ya’ know?”

James was silent, letting his best friend rant about his wife, “Y/n means everything to me. She’s been with me through thick and thin. There’s nothing more I wanted than to marry her even if it was in the midst of this war.”

“You’ve been chasing Lily for years, mate. I can promise you that she wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t really want to.” Sirius assured.

“You’re sure?” James inquired insecurely, “I’m one hundred percent sure.”

A knock resonated on the door with a soft voice on the other side, “It’s just me!”

The female voice on the other side of the door walked in, styled h/c hair and makeup placed upon her face. She was greeted with Sirius, and a hug pulled tightly into his chest. She saw James looking at them nervously, and she let go of Sirius to hug James tightly.

“You’re going to be okay? I promise.” She stated, pulling apart to look at his hazel eyes, “Lily loves you. Godric, she loves you more than anything!”

“Thanks, Y/n.” James smiled softly, and Y/n pulled her lips to his ear to whisper, “Lily’s liked you since second year.”

James and Y/n laughed as they pulled apart, “But that stays between us!”

“Oi!” Sirius interjected playfully, “Taking my wife, are you?”

“Never.” James replied smiling, all nerves having left, “Thank you both for being here. Seriously it means a lot to me.”

They smiled, “Anytime.”

Someone cracked open the door and spoke, “We need the maid of honor and the best man so we can start.”

“Suppose that’ll be us?” Sirius questioned teasingly, “I think so.” Y/n smiled.

Y/n kissed James’ cheek, “You’ll do fine, and we’ll see you soon.”

“Of course, Mrs.Black.”

Sirius wrapped his arm around Y/n as they walked out to the aisle and altar. Sirius took his spot on the right and Y/n on the left. Smiling at each other from the side, remembering what it was like only a few months ago when they got married. When Lily was in the maid of honor spot and James was in the best man spot. Now roles were reversed.

James stepped out, gaining a reassuring smile from them both. Lily following not too far after with her father. James and Lily looked like lovesick puppies. It was adorable. Vows were exchanged, and tears were shed, especially from James and Lily. On the alter, someone took pictures of the four of them together. Sirius told an absurd joke making them all laugh. A picture was taken at the exact moment.

It was nice. Y/n and Sirius sat at a table together. His arm was around her shoulders as they watched their best friends dance together and laugh together. Sirius took the clips out of his wife’s hair and scratched her scalp, causing her to move into his hand. Multiple hours of clips in Y/n’s hair gave her headache, and Sirius was relieving it.

“Feel nice, love?”

“Yes, these bloody clips. Make sure you save them. I’m going to throw them at Lily later.” Y/n stated, and Sirius chuckled, “Mhm, okay.”

Hours later, James and Lily began to act like fools. Y/n picked up one of the clips from the table, aiming precisely with some help from Sirius - a former Quidditch Beater - and threw it at her. At first, she didn’t notice, but after the third one, she did. The smile on her face was unmistakable.

Lily picked up the three clips and turned toward her maid of honor with her hair down completely. Another one was thrown at her, and Lily laughed loudly. Then one was thrown at Y/n and Sirius. Fortunately, Lily threw it and missed Y/n completely, instead hitting Sirius right in the face. James, Lily, and Y/n were laughing like the only people in the building.

“Oi!” Sirius yelled, “Control your wife, Prongs!”

Y/n stood up, reaching a hand out for Sirius, “C’mon Siri. Let’s go join them.”

Sirius smirked and took her hand, joining their best friend dancing together, jumping around like fifth-year Gryffindors in the common room. They looked like complete idiots, but that didn’t matter. Lily and Y/n holding hands, twirling each other around, laughing together. James and Sirius began to throw the clips at each other. Remus and Peter were on the side watching the idiots.

Lily and Y/n traded. Y/n danced with James, and Lily danced with Sirius. The girls could remember back in sixth year complaining about their boyfriends in the girl's dorms but always remembering that they love their idiots. When the night was over, just the four of them at Godrics Hollow, they just laughed the night away.

“So, Mrs.Potter, how’s it feel?” Y/n teased, “Surprisingly, it feels great.” Lily replied.

“How about you, Mrs.Black?”

“Being married to Sirius is a dream.” Y/n joked, “No, no, but in all seriousness, he’s delightful, sweeter than I imagined.”

Lily’s eyebrows quirked, “What’s he like?”

“Perfect?” Y/n replied, “Does laundry, cooks, cleans, makes my coffee every morning before order stuff?”

“Mother of Merlin! I never would’ve expected-“ Lily exclaimed, “I know! It’s crazy!” Y/n interrupted.

“We got lucky, didn’t we?”

“Indeed we did, sister.”

They clinked their glasses of firewhiskey together. Both girls finally married, finally together. Lily and Y/n hit the motherload with their husbands. Both were gentlemen and chivalry experts. Both girls fell asleep together on the couch, leaving both boys to bring them to bed. Sirius and Y/n in the guest bedroom. James and Lily in their bedroom.

The following morning the four of them woke up. Lily and Y/n were making breakfast while the two men tried to help despite having no knowledge of cooking. Two hours later, breakfast was made and being eaten at the dinner table. Clinks of forks and sounds of chewing were the only sounds coming from the table.

Until Sirius spoke up, “So, how was yesterday, newlyweds?”

“Perfect.” James answered, Sirius then turned to Lily, “Despite everything going on, I think we really needed it.”

Y/n nodded, “Completely agree. It was nice to let loose for a couple of hours.”

The conversation then went quiet, “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.” Said James solemnly.

“Yesterday was great, but what we don’t know is the future, and I know that right now it’s a dark time. It’s probably one of the lowest points I’ve been in my life. My parents being terribly sick, the Dark Lord on the rise supposedly. Everything seems to be going in a downhill spiral.”

“But for the first time in months, yesterday I felt like a first-year at Hogwarts performing my first prank. I felt like that second-year who blew up Y/n’s cauldron for fun. The third-year who decided it’d be a brilliant idea to dye Sirius’ hair pink.” James stated as everyone laughed, “Let’s just say I didn’t have hair for a week.” He murmured.

“Fourth year when I stole Remus’ book, and he nearly killed me. Fifth-year, when I turned into an animagus for Moony. Sixth year when Lily finally decided to give me a chance. Seventh year when we blew up fireworks in the Great Hall for the graduating class of 1978.”

“Not knowing what tomorrow brings leaves us anxious and nervous. But there’s one thing I’m sure of.” James informed, “That if anything ever happens to me, just know, that every second we’ve spent together, every memory we have together, I hold them close to my heart. They all mean something to me. Even if it’s as simple as sitting in the common room together.”

“James-“

“I’m not finished.” He interrupted, “This is a scary time, but I’ve always been certain of one thing, that thing is you guys. You guys have always been constants in my life. Always been there for me through thick and thin. Sirius being my brother, Lily being my wife, and Y/n being the little sister I never got and my shoulder to cry on.”

Y/n chuckled, “Hey!”

“I still love you.” James replied teasingly through his tears, and she smiled, “I know, Prongs.”

“I’ll eventually have to repeat the same speech to Moony and Wormtail, but for right now, I haven’t felt happier. I wanted to say all of this at the wedding, but Lily didn’t want to dampen anyone’s mood, which I understand. Yesterday was a breath of fresh air for what’s to come.”

“But tomorrow, we will all go back to our Order missions and meetings. One thing I can be sure of is that I can always trust you guys, through and through. If for some reason something happens to me, just know I love you guys.”

“We love you too, James.” Lily replied.

Sirius sniffled and smiled through his teary eyes, “Nothing will happen to you guys. Not with me here. You guys have given me too much to let you guys go without a fight.”

“And that’s why we love you, Padfoot.” James stated, smiling at him.

“Everything will be okay. We’ll get through this.” Y/n said with hopeful optimism that would always brighten her friend's days.

[astaroth1357]

Yandere Demon Dating Game!!

Pick your sweet, sweet poison today!

Congratulations!! You, dear reader, have the exclusive opportunity to select a lover straight from the upper echelon of Hell! We've rounded up nine fantastic demon suitors all ready to take your hand for their own, completely stress free and with no awkward courtship! There is just one catch though, they already love you quite a bit… in their own demonic way. 

Please, browse our eagerly awaiting bachelors to your heart's content! Once you've made your choice, CLICK BELOW THE CUT to see who your new love gets to be!

Warning: Yandere Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Probably Some Implied Violence

All behavior described is for the purpose of fantasy and this is in no way an endorsement of performing any of this in real life!

Bachelor #1

Bachelor #1 could compare you to the moon and the stars but in his eyes not even those could compare to your radiance. You are the most precious being in existence and he’ll do everything in his considerable power to see your every need met! There’s not a thing between Heaven and Hell that he can’t provide for you and he’ll do so happily. You are, quite simply, his world.

But being a person’s everything can have some drawbacks… Bachelor #1 will only feel comfortable if he knows that you’re his. Really and truly in every way possible, and he’s not very used to rejection… at all. You won’t be able to overpower nor escape him, even if you could get some distance between you it’ll never last... Best resign yourself completely because he’ll own every part of you that he wants to... body and soul.

Bachelor #2

Bachelor #2 cherishes every bit of you and all that you stand for as someone truly without no equal. He’ll turn to you first on his rainy days and he’ll want to show you off on his sunny. He’ll never get enough of being with or worshipping you and only you. Flaws and insecurities be damned! He will love you with a depth that could rival the sea and a strength that even God couldn't break. He’d challenge anyone to try.

They’d all fail, of course. Bachelor #2 will know the most about you, even things you thought he never could… because he’s been following your every move. If he can’t be attached to your hip, then he’ll tail you like a shadow, keeping details meticulously stashed away in his mind.... Unfortunately, if you speak to anyone else that means he’ll know right away, and he’ll make it very clear how much he hates you giving your attention away so freely...

Bachelor #3

Bachelor #3's love is as pure and true as a fairytale. He wants nothing more than to shield you from all the horrors of the world, human or demon, and he's loyal to a fault. Truly, you could not be in safer hands. He'll do almost anything that you ask without complaint just to see you happy… He does so love to see your smile...

Now, Bachelor #3 would never hurt you, in fact, he’ll make sure that nothing ever will. Your smile is all he cares about and he’ll guard it with his life. So best keep that smile up because he won’t care to listen if he ever finds you sad. If you’re upset, then he’s upset, but he’ll express that through Pure. Destruction. It doesn’t matter who hurt you, you don’t get to stop him. You don’t get to argue. So just keep sitting and smiling for everyone else’s sake… Because if you’re smiling then you must be happy… right?

Bachelor #4

Bachelor #4 only wants you to see the best of him as he’d like to see the best of you! He sees within you more than just kindness, but a genuine potential to be everything he’s ever wanted. He loves you from the depths of his soul and he believes that you can do this! Though he may not say it, in his dreams, the two of you will be together forever. Happy and content no matter what life throws at you… but some things just take… adjusting.

Bachelor #4 wants only the best for you, you know? His words may sound harsh but he means well. He may lose his temper once in a while, but that’s just to make a point. He’d never hurt you, truly he’s never! But how else is he going to make you remember how much you need him? What about when you don’t listen?? Honestly, that independent streak of yours is going to have to go… Just follow the rules, love, please… This is all for you, you know?

Bachelor #5

Bachelor #5 wishes to discover all that he can about you, your every hope, dream, and interest. To him, you’ll be an endless fascination meant for his enjoyment alone. He’ll find every way he can to make you laugh or smile at a feverish pace and commit them to memory like it's etched in stone. He’ll never get enough of drinking in your reactions, truly you are a work of art!

But by every reaction, we mean every single one... Bachelor #5 wants to see it all, the good, the bad, and the genuinely harrowing. He’ll know your every hope as well as your every fear and will soak it in with delight all the same. It’s not his fault, love, really. When everything about you is just so captivating, how can he ever hope to look away? You’re strong enough to give him what he wants… aren’t you?

Bachelor #6

Bachelor #6 may love you quietly but make no mistake, the sheer intensity of his feelings are practically unrivaled by any other option before you today. He won’t be satisfied until you’re both seen as one whole, a package deal that no one would ever think to break. Life with him can be filled with nothing but softness and bliss, light touches and impassioned words, until the worlds fall down around you…

To clarify, the keyword here is “can.” Bachelor #6 will make one thing very clear, you are a package deal and that’s how you’ll stay. Where you go, he goes. If he doesn’t want to go, then you stay. Plain and simple. If you want to go, you stay. If others die, you stay. If the world ends, you stay. Even if it kills you, you stay. So why not just enjoy the bliss while it lasts?

Bachelor #7

Bachelor #7 wants only the best for you because he knows it’s what you most deserve. For anyone to catch his eye quite like you have, then you must be just that special and he’ll seek out every opportunity he can to make your life much sweeter. In essence, he’ll take care of you better than anyone else ever could, including yourself, and he’ll take pleasure in making sure that your every need is met. You’ll want for nothing that you can have…

But you’ll never have your freedom back. Bachelor #7 sees no reason for you to be without him (however would you survive?) so he has it all planned out for you. You’ll be in the lap of luxury, the pinnacle of comfort, truly your new home is a magnificent gilded cage. He’ll treat you gently so long as you do the same for him. But even the nicest cages can be covered and forgotten if the owner so chooses… No matter how pretty their pet sings.

Bachelor #8

Bachelor #8 lives in worlds one can only dream of and yet you’re by far the best thing he could ever ask for. Try as he might, he can’t think of anything that really compares to you. Your magnificence is beyond the description of even the most skilled of poets… Truthfully, he hardly can stop thinking about you. You take up so much space in his mind that he can scarcely imagine his life without you in it...

So… he doesn’t. Bachelor #8 genuinely believes that you're the happiest couple in existence. Not, “you will be.” You are. And to his credit, his love is sweet and true even if he sees things slightly… obtuse. You won’t be able to reason with him because he buried logic a long time ago… He loves you and you love him, even if he gets upset, you love him. Even if he hurts someone… you love him. Don’t you?

Bachelor #9

Bachelor #9’s devotion to you will never be in question. He’s given himself to you wholeheartedly and would be thrilled if you were to do the same for him. He’s more than willing to throw everything aside for you and that’s not an honor he offers to anyone. Just know that he'll always be there to protect you and he'll do anything to prove his love to you… whether you know it or not.

And there's a good deal you won't know. Bachelor #9 will come across as the most heroic of the bunch, a true lifesaver, but don't be fooled. He isn't saving you from anything. Or, well he is but he’s behind the danger to start with. Not that you'll never know it mid-rescue, tucked up within his arms… you'll never feel safe without him. He'll make sure of that.

When you've selected your fine Bachelor of choice click the cut to see what lucky man you're taking home!

Bachelor #1: Diavolo

Aiming high aren’t we, reader? Congratulations, you’ve chosen the Prince of Hell! Being with Lord Diavolo will be a bit of a roller coaster so we hope you’re prepared. For as much as he has to offer he’s a little… demanding at times. Keeping up with a princely schedule will do that to a person. Just enjoy you gold and your gems when you can… you certainly won’t be getting much rest, that’s for sure.

Bachelor #2: Asmodeus 

So you’ve selected Asmodeus? Excellent choice, reader! Really, he’s among the safer options on this list as long as you don’t mind giving up some of your privacy. Well, okay all of your privacy but what’s yours is his and everything about you is his now. Please don’t get too upset, he’ll be nice! Just remember to keep those eyes where they belong, right~?

Bachelor #3: Beelzebub

It looks like you’ve chosen the ever-loyal Beelzebub! Wonderful selection, reader, clearly you care deeply about your own safety. We suppose the same can’t be said for anyone else, but hey? What’s a few black eyes and broken bones between friends? You can always stand to lose some family, can’t you? It’s all in the name of love after all.

Bachelor #4: Lucifer

Well, well reader, you’ve selected the eldest brother, Lucifer! You’ll be delighted to know that your new beloved will treat you as dearly as he would his own heart… so long as you follow his instructions and listen to his "advice." Even dogs can follow basic commands, so you can too… can't you?

Bachelor #5: Satan

Fantastic choice, reader! We're certain that you and Satan will make quite the happy couple! ...most of the time. He is a curious fellow and may need to "test" your limits from time to time but it's only because he adores you so much. No worries, it'll all be over soon… but then again, what is "soon" to a demon?

Bachelor #6: Belphegor 

Congratulations, dear reader, it seems you've picked the seventh brother, Belphegor! You can expect to spend long hours lazing with this dreamy demon, he'll want nothing more than to be around you… and he'll growl if you try to leave. Always remember, he'll make sure you stay in his bed one way or another...

Bachelor #7: Barbatos 

Very good choice, reader, picking the butler himself means you must obviously have some classy tastes. You really won't have to worry about much but… do you handle isolation well? Best hope so, he's a busy man and, frankly, you won't be going anywhere anymore.

Bachelor #8: Leviathan

Looking to make Leviathan's dreams of bliss a reality, are you? What a commendable endeavor, reader! We respect your choice. Though don't worry, you'll live up to his expectations. You don't get a say in the matter.

Bachelor #9: Mammon

A bit of a White Knight chaser, are you? Well your life won't be lacking excitement with Mammon! Back alley gangs, run away trains, suspicious fires, you name it and he'll be there for you. We're sure you'll be fine, you're in Mammon's hands! His very… "capable" hands. Why be concerned?

Did you make the right choice? 

Check out my Masterlist for other stuff I've posted.

[snowbellewells]

@whimsicallyenchantedrose When I first read this addition yesterday, it had me all teared up and emotional and I didn’t get around to leaving my review. This time I’m going to keep it together, but my heart still just aches for both of them. Each has come to love the other one, but they are both honorable and devoted enough to deny themselves that because it would be wrong in of Emma’s marriage. Even the pride and happiness Killian should be able to feel at finally finishing his book is dulled by the love he feels but can’t do anything about. Passages like this one made that all the more beautiful and keenly felt: “…When he’d come in view of the house he saw her.

She stood on the balcony off of her bedroom, dressed in a long, demure dressing gown, her glorious golden hair blowing freely in the breeze, wrapping around her like a cloak, before being once more blown aside. She had evidently taken advantage of a free morning to wash her hair and let the salty sea breeze dry it.

She was the most beautiful vision he’d ever seen, and it was at that moment that he’d known , simply known that he loved her and there would never be another woman for him.

It was exhilarating….but it was also the most tragic thing that could have happened. She was married. She could never be his.”

It struck me (and maybe this is even why you chose Mr. DuLac to be his boss?) as Killian was confessing his feelings to Mary Margaret, that he and Emma’s plight is like that of Lancelot and Guinevere. It can never be, and so he plans to leave for both their sakes, to remove the temptation and ease the pain. I liked too that MM promises to keep his secret, but tries to give him hope as well - very much a “Snow” thing to do! 😉🩷

And then you gave us Emma’s side of things - as Killian brought his bags downstairs on the morning he planned to leave, and I really did think my heart was twisting in my chest. 😭💔 “Emma’s heart broke at the sight, though she’d been trying to prepare herself for this moment since he’d told her of his plans at the beginning of the week. He was leaving, and she knew she would never again be the same.

She’d fallen in love with him.

For weeks–months even–she’d tried to deny the fact, even to herself. She was married after all. Nothing could come of feelings for her boarder.

But in the depths of her heart where the truth could not be denied she knew, she’d always known. She loved him.

A new pain, sharper, and yet sweeter than any she’d ever known had entered her life at the realization. Yes, her life to this point had been difficult. She’d married a man she didn’t love, didn’t even respect. He’d returned to her after an accident as little more than a child in mentality, someone she’d need to care for for the rest of his natural life. All of it was hard.

But it was bearable as long as she hadn’t known what real love was. Now…now she didn’t know how she’d survive the endless empty years that loomed before her.”

Anyway, you get the idea… But somewhere amidst all that angst, I did love how Killian came to stand just behind her and thanked her for her help and care that summer, and how you worked in the “not a day will go by” and the “good” response I to this. I don’t yet know quite how it will happen, but it gives some sort of hope that things might yet work out and it won’t really be the end.

I really felt for poor David in he and MM’s section of this too. Obviously as a doctor he feels a responsibility to share what would lead for the best outcome for someone’s health, but he doesn’t want to make things any worse for Emma either. It was a quandary he was clearly wrestling with intensely. And you see both his character, and then Emma’s as well, when they both do what would be best for Neal - even if it might make things more difficult for them.

And the end of the chapter?!? Well, let’s just say I am headed on to chapter six RIGHT NOW!!

At the Dawn There is Rejoicing--a birthday gift for @kmomof4 (Chapter 5)

Summary:  Birthday gift for Krystal, @kmomof4. Based on the story of Leslie Moore and Owen Ford in the book Anne’s House of Dreams–the 5th book in the Anne of Green Gables series.  Emma Gold has led a difficult life.  Her brother and her father died when she was a child, and she was then coerced into marrying the odious Neal Gold.  She thought she’d been granted a reprieve when he was believed to be lost at sea–only for him to return disabled and in need of a caregiver.  Killian is a newspaper reporter who is tired of his routine life.  When he falls ill, his editor forces him to take a sabbatical.  What will happen when Emma takes Killian in as a border for the summer?

Word Count: 3266

Other Chapters: (Prologue) (1) (2) (3) (4) (6)

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Chapter 5

Killian knocked on the Nolans’ front door and waited patiently for a response.  Just that morning, after three months of work, he’d put the finishing touches on his novel.  It was good.  He knew it was good.  This work would bring him acclaim, maybe even fortune.

But for all that, it was the time here that he’d found most precious.  The lovely afternoons spent by the sea, his trusty notebook in hand.  The days spent collaborating with Captain Nemo, hearing his harrowing tales–all of which he swore up and down were the Bible truth–discussing ideas, hearing his thoughts on his manuscript and the world in general.  It had all been more exhilarating than anything he’d ever experienced.

Except, that is, falling in love.  That had been exhilarating on an entirely new level beyond anything he could have imagined.  For he could deny it no longer.  He had fallen deeply, passionately, irrevocably in love with Emma.

As he waited for the door to be answered, he thought about the moment he’d known he loved her.

It had been several weeks past. He’d had plans to go to the shore and write until his hand cramped and the words would no longer come.  Accordingly, he’d bid Emma goodbye for the day and headed out.

An hour later, however, he discovered his pen had run out of ink, and he went back to the boarding house to grab another.  When he’d come in view of the house he saw her.

She stood on the balcony off of her bedroom, dressed in a long, demure dressing gown, her glorious golden hair blowing freely in the breeze, wrapping around her like a cloak, before being once more blown aside.  She had evidently taken advantage of a free morning to wash her hair and let the salty sea breeze dry it.

She was the most beautiful vision he’d ever seen, and it was at that moment that he’d known, simply known that he loved her and there would never be another woman for him.

It was exhilarating….but it was also the most tragic thing that could have happened.  She was married.   She could never be his.

This morning, having finished the first draft of his novel, he knew his time on the island was coming to a close.  Mr. DuLac had begun asking about his plans to return, and with the book finished, he knew he could put it off no longer.  

And that’s what brought him to David and Mary Margaret’s home this afternoon.  He knew his love was hopeless, and he had no intention of declaring it to Emma, but he had to tell someone.  He had to unburden himself, and there was no one who was a better listener or more sympathetic than Mary Margaret.  Though she was a few years his junior, there was something almost motherly about her.

The woman herself opened the door a moment later, and looked up at him in surprise.

“Killian, this is a surprise!” she said.  “Come in!  Would you like some tea?”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Mary Margaret,” he said quickly, “in your condition you don’t need to be waiting on me.”

She looked down at her protruding belly and chuckled.  “I can’t believe I still have two months to go.  I feel rather like a beached whale already.”

“You look lovely,” he said gallantly.  “But I’m sure you need your rest.”

“Indeed she does!” came the businesslike voice of Johanna from the kitchen doorway.  The Nolans had hired Johanna a month before as a kind of nurse and housekeeper.  Mary Margaret had balked a bit at bringing a stranger into their home, but Johanna had quickly become family, and she’d be indispensable once Mary Margaret entered her confinement.  “Don’t you fret, Mrs. Doctor, dear.  Johanna’s at the helm.  I’ll put the kettle on.  You simply enjoy your visit.”

Mary Margaret laughed. “I feel as though I’ve been dismissed.  Something tells me if I attempted to enter my own kitchen, I’d be summarily tossed out.”

Killian smiled.  “I wouldn’t test her.”

Mary Margaret led him to the sitting room and indicated an easy chair, which he accepted gladly as she took her own seat on the sofa.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?  Is everything alright?  Killian, you’re not looking well.  You’re not suffering a relapse are you?”

“Oh nothing like that,” he was quick to assure.  “I finished my novel this morning, and I plan to return to Montreal at the end of the week.”

“That soon?” Mary Margaret said, “we’ll all miss you terribly!  You’ve been such a splendid addition to our group!  You must come back again soon!”

He was quiet for a long moment, before speaking again.  “I’ll never return to the island.”

And then it all came spilling out, the whole beautiful, tragic tale of his love for Emma, of his need for her, of his knowledge that she was the only woman in the world for him.

“Oh, Killian, you didn’t say anything to her did you?” she asked tragically when his tale was finished.  “You know nothing can come of it!”

“Of course I didn’t!” Killian said vehemently.  “What kind of a monster do you take me for?  I know my feelings are hopeless, and the last thing in the world I would ever want to do is burden her further with them!”

Mary Margaret breathed a sigh of relief before adding.  “Does she feel the same about you?”

Yes, she does.  I know she does.  I’ve seen it in her eyes, felt it in the gentle way she’s cared for me while I recuperated.

“No,” he said aloud, “of course not.  She can’t.”

Mary Margaret smiled sadly, and he could see that his protestations didn’t convince her.

“I don’t expect anything from you or from her,” Killian said.  “I just…I had to tell someone.  Never fear, I will leave and never return, but for one moment, I…just needed to unburden myself.  I can count on your discretion can’t I?”

“Of course”, she answered, “I promise to not tell a soul–not even David.  But Killian, don’t give up hope!  If there’s anything I’ve learned through my life, it’s that there’s always hope, even when things look the bleakest.”

He smiled sadly.  “I’d like to believe that, but just now, hope seems like nothing but an unattainable dream.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On Friday morning, when Killian came into the kitchen he was carrying his suitcases.

Emma’s heart broke at the sight, though she’d been trying to prepare herself for this moment since he’d told her of his plans at the beginning of the week.  He was leaving, and she knew she would never again be the same.

She’d fallen in love with him.  

For weeks–months even–she’d tried to deny the fact, even to herself.  She was married after all.  Nothing could come of feelings for her boarder.

But in the depths of her heart where the truth could not be denied she knew, she’d always known.  She loved him.

A new pain, sharper, and yet sweeter than any she’d ever known had entered her life at the realization.  Yes, her life to this point had been difficult.  She’d married a man she didn’t love, didn’t even respect.  He’d returned to her after an accident as little more than a child in mentality, someone she’d need to care for for the rest of his natural life.  All of it was hard.

But it was bearable as long as she hadn’t known what real love was.  Now…now she didn’t know how she’d survive the endless empty years that loomed before her.

“All packed up?” she said with a falsely bright, cheerful smile–one she knew didn’t fool anyone, least of all him, who seemed capable of reading her very thoughts.

“Aye,” he’d answered with a sad smile.  “Once breakfast is over, I’ll head to the station.”

“Neal can help you with your bags,” she said, turning toward the stove, giving the eggs one last, unnecessary stir while she willed the tears from welling up.  There would be time to give vent to her grief once he was gone.  She wouldn’t make a fool of herself with it while he was still here.

He came up behind her, his nearness distracting, somehow the greatest pleasure mixed with nearly unbearable pain.  He put a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him.  “I appreciate it,” he said simply.

“It’s no trouble,” Emma tried to say casually.  “Neal likes to be helpful, and I know he likes you.  He’ll enjoy helping you take your luggage to the station.”

“I didn’t merely mean about offering Neal’s services, love,” he said softly.  “I appreciate everything you’ve done, everything you’ve been to me over the past four months of my stay.  You’ve been a true godsend.”

She tried to shrug off the thanks. “I didn’t do so much.”

“But you did,” he continued.  “In those early days when I still barely had the strength to climb a flight of stairs, you cared for me, bringing me everything I needed, inquiring about my health.  You made me feel welcome, a part of the family.  You brought me into a circle of friends who have become dearer to me than anyone I’ve ever known.  I can never repay you for all of it.”

“It…it was my pleasure,” she said, her voice breaking.  “But enough talk.  My breakfast is getting cold.”

During the meal both of them stuck determinedly to light topics–there was no word about feelings, departures, the future.

But eventually, every bite was eaten, every sip of tea drunk, and the inevitable could not be put off any longer.

After setting his empty plate in the sink, Killian turned to Emma, his eyes sad.  “Thank you again. For everything.”

“Think nothing of it.”

For long moments they merely looked at each other, their eyes speaking words neither was free to say.

“Emma,” he said finally, his voice gravelly and tragic, “there’s not a day that will go by that I won’t think of you.”

She swallowed hard several times as the tears welled up, one finally spilling over when she could no longer contain it.  “Good,” she said simply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mary Margaret Nolan sat in her favorite, high backed chair before the fire.  It was only early September, but the nights were already becoming cool, and she was grateful David had built up the fire tonight.  

The baby kicked, and Mary Margaret smiled, massaging her distended belly where the little one seemed determined to make his presence known.  She couldn’t be sure, of course, but she was convinced their baby was a boy.  Mother’s intuition, she supposed.

She was so confident, in fact, that the pair of tiny booties she was attempting to knit were a light, sky blue.  Attempting being the operative word.  Though no novice at the art of knitting, Mary Margaret had made more than one mistake this evening and had to rip out several rows of work.

Mary Margaret frowned, setting her knitting aside and gazing thoughtfully into the fire.  What a mess it all was!  First Killian confiding his feelings for Emma and then Emma doing the same not a week later.

She’d gone down to the shore one evening when David was again out on calls.  He didn’t like her venturing so far on foot by herself in her current condition, but she figured what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  She was sure Johanna would keep her secret.

What she’d found at the shoreline wasn’t the peace and tranquility she was accustomed to.  Instead, she’d found Emma rather frantically pacing back and forth.

“Whatever is the matter, Emma?” she’d asked in concern after reaching the other woman.

“Mary Margaret, I am such a fool, such an idiotic fool!  How could I let this happen?”

And then the whole tale had come out.  Despite her best efforts, she’d fallen in love with Killian Jones, and now he was gone, and she felt utterly bereft.

“And the worst part?” Emma had said. “The worst part is that I’m sure it would have been even worse if he’d stayed.  How could I endure that torture–being so close to the man I love knowing nothing could ever come of it?  That is, of course, assuming he even felt the same, which I’m not vain enough to believe to be the case.”

Mary Margaret had said little, aside from whatever paltry words of comfort she could find.  She knew, of course, that Emma’s feelings were more than reciprocated, but she’d made Killian a promise, and she intended to keep it.

She rather thought she’d keep the information to herself even if he hadn’t exacted the promise from her.  The knowledge would do nothing but bring Emma further pain.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Emma asked. “Not even David?  I couldn’t bear to think of anyone else knowing what a terrible person–what a terrible wife I am.”

“You are NOT a terrible person, and you are the last person anyone would consider a terrible wife,” Mary Margaret said firmly.  “You’ve done more for that miserable man in the last twelve years than anyone could have asked of you.  Still, I promise.  I won’t tell a soul.”

Mary Margaret was not known for her ability to keep a secret, but she felt sure she would have no difficulty keeping either of the promises she’d made.  It was all so horrible.  A month and a half after Killian had left, and Emma was clearly suffering as much as the day he’d gone.  It seemed the saying was true.  Absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

“Mary Margaret,” David said slowly from the chair beside her.  

She heard the hesitation and uncertainty in his voice, and looked at him in concern.  He had been unusually quiet all evening, and she’d wondered if something were the matter, but when he’d said nothing, she assumed he’d lost a patient or some other aspect of his work troubled him.

“Yes?” she responded finally.

“I….I” he stammered before clearing his throat and turning to look at her directly.  “I find myself in something of a quandary.  I know what I should do, but the last thing in the world I want is to do it.”

Well this didn’t sound good.  A sudden foreboding came over her.  Somehow she knew she was not going to like what he had to say.  Still, she laid a comforting hand over his and interlaced their fingers.  “If it would help, I’m happy to be a listening ear.”

“You know this afternoon I was over at the Golds. to lance a boil Neal had on his neck.”  After her nod he continued.  “I decided to take the opportunity to examine his head–specifically the area where he was injured that night so many years ago.”

He stopped again, and she squeezed his hand, urging him to continue.

“Mary Margaret, I think there may be a way to surgically fix what’s wrong.  I think it might be possible to restore him to his right senses.”

Mary Margaret pulled in a quick, agonized breath.  “David you can’t!  You know what that would do to Emma!  Neal as, basically a child is difficult enough for her, but to return the horrible man she married?  David it would be torture!”

“I know, Snow!” It was a nickname he’d given her years ago, one he only used in moments of great emotion.  “It’s killing me to even think it!  The last thing in the world I would ever want to do is harm Emma, but now that I’ve seen it, how can I not tell her?”

“You can’t David!” Mary Margaret said again, hearing the near hysteria in her voice.  “Could you even do the surgery?  You’ve never done anything neurological before!”

“No,” David said quickly, “it would be beyond my skill, but there are doctors in the city who would be more than capable.  There’s no guarantee anything would come of it, but there is a chance.”

“There you go!”  Mary Margaret said, getting to her feet and beginning to pace.  “It’s not a certainty!  You know Emma doesn’t have the kind of money to spend on the trip and what is sure to be an expensive surgery!  Please, David, you can’t tell her!”

David was quiet for a long time, and then hung his head, hands holding the back of his chair, and leaning into it as though it were the only thing holding him up.  “I’ve told myself the same things you are saying over and over again, Snow, but I can’t get away from it.  As a doctor, my first duty is toward my patients.  Emma may choose to act on my information or to not act on it, but I have to at least tell her.  I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma took the news as stoically as she was able, hearing Dr. Nolan out, refusing to let her face betray the utter dread she felt at even the possibility of having Neal restored to his senses.  David had been wonderfully gentle and understanding, offering her an out.  Assuring her he would think no less of her if she chose to forego the surgery.  It was, he said, a long shot and would be quite expensive.

She’d said very little to him, bidding him goodbye as soon as he’d finished speaking, but that didn’t stop her tortured thoughts.  All night she’d tossed and turned, able to think of nothing but the choice in front of her.

One minute she’d resolved to dismiss Dr. Nolan’s suggestion, and then the next the guilt convinced her she had to at least try to restore Neal.  Back and forth it went all night.

But when dawn came, she’d come to a decision.  She had to do the right thing.  She had to take Neal for the surgery.

Accordingly, at the end of the week, she took Neal to the city and allowed the surgeons to do their work.

After the procedure was over, the doctor had come to her, assuring her that all had gone well. They’d need to wait for him to wake, though, to determine if it had been a success.

Several hours later, Emma was sitting at Neal’s bedside when he awoke.  “Neal?” she said tentatively.  “Do you know me, Neal?”

For a moment he simply looked at her.  He looked confused, but his eyes no longer held the vacant look she’d seen in them for the past twelve years.

Then he spoke. 

“Emma?  Is that you?  Why are you calling me Neal?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes:

–Let the yelling commence that I ended it there and am leaving you hanging, lol!  What exactly did that last line mean?  You’ll have to stay tuned to find out!  (But, if you’re dying to know what just happened, never fear.  Krystal has given me the puppy dog eyes when I told her I had a cliff-hanger in store for her, and as a result, I have succumbed to her pleading to post the next chapter on Sunday.

–Given the fact that I now have the first draft of the entire fic finished, I plan to actually post 3 times next week: Sunday, Tuesday and Friday.

–Up next:  We learn what my last sentence above actually means.  We learn whether or not the surgery was a success and what exactly that means for all those concerned.  In addition to the Emma/Neal portion of the story, big changes come to both the Nolans, Granny and Marco.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[rainbowsky]

Taste Test: Bubly and Chinese Lay's

For a bit of a change of pace, I figured I'd write about some snacks I recently tried.

Apparently these are the two most popular Lay's flavors in China, so they've been made permanently available here.

As we all know GG is a snack lover, and he especially loves Lay's chips. He used to endorse them a while back and there have been occasional rumors that he'll be endorsing them again (they never materialize into anything).

I've seen photos of GG eating cucumber Lay's in the past, but unfortunately I couldn't find any for this post.

Here's one of his old ads.

The man can make even chocolate covered potato chips look appetizing.

I am actually glad that he doesn't endorse Lay's anymore, because I have a weakness for Lay's potato chips and I don't need any extra excuses to indulge!

Western Paranoia

They really want the consumer to know: while these are Chinese flavors, they are made in Canada! Don't worry, honorable Canadian, these were made in a trusted Canadian factory with trusted Canadian ingredients, not in some shady Chinese factory where who-knows-what is being thrown into the mix! 😅

Cucumber Lay's

These chips were a real shocker. I don't know what I was expecting, but these look like sour cream and onion chips, and they taste... like cucumbers. Not like pickles or marinated cucumbers or something, but like cucumbers plucked fresh out of the garden.

They also smell very strongly of fresh cucumbers, the moment the bag is opened. I found it off-putting.

...

I respect that these chips exist, but I wouldn't choose to eat them. 😅

My partner, on the other hand, has already devoured half the bag. I'm at least glad they won't be going to waste!

Verdict: 1/5 🏞️🏗️🏗️🏗️🏗️

Chicken and Tomato Lay's

Chicken and tomato... I was trying to think of any occasion in my cooking where I would put these two ingredients together, and I really couldn't. Maybe in a chicken taco or something? Or Chicken Parmesan (which I'd probably never make)? It seems such an odd flavor combination to me for some reason.

These taste exactly like tomato and chicken, and it's surprisingly good. The chicken flavor is savoury and the tomato flavor is a bit sweeter, so those who are into the whole 'sweet and salty' thing might really enjoy these.

My only complaint is that they are a bit too sweet for my taste (sweet in the way store-bought ketchup is sweet, as opposed to sweet like candy). I am much more into savoury flavors than sweets, and this was just a bit over the edge of sweetness to where I don't think I could eat many of these.

Verdict: 2/5 🐞🐞🪳🪳🪳

Blackberry Bubly

Wow, I was NOT expecting how amazing this would be. It is fresh and fruity with absolutely no sweetness. It smells as good as it tastes, too, and fills the air with the refreshing smell of berries.

I have always scoffed at the idea of paying for what is just flavored club soda. It seems perverse and excessive in some strange way. But when I tried this I immediately knew that I was going to be buying more Bubly, without a doubt.

And then I reflected on it some more and realized, pretty much everything we drink, whether tea, coffee, ginger ale or whiskey is all just flavored water in the end.

The fact that this is really simply flavored is a feature, not a bug.

I love that there is a delicious, refreshing fizzy drink option that has no sugar and absolutely no sweetness (nor any chemicals or food colorings). Bright and clean and flavorful. This will be perfect in the summer.

The funny thing is, I don't even like blackberry. At least, that's what I thought before I tried this. Blackberry wouldn't have been my first choice by any stretch of the imagination. But the only single cans available were blackberry and lime and I felt lime was too generic a flavor to really get the 'Bubly experience'. After all, club soda with lime is something I'd probably normally drink in the summer.

But the blackberry is absolutely delicious. So fruity and refreshing.

I can now confidently buy the grapefruit Bubly I've been eyeing every time I'm at the grocery store. I'm sure I'll drink every can. Maybe I'll post about it once I've given it a try...

Verdict: 4/5 🛼🛼🛼🛼⛸️

Anyway, hope this was interesting. If I come across anything else that I think is relevant, especially if it's something GG and DD endorse, I'll try to do something like this again.

[anxious-allie-ren]

The Rumors.

Coming at you with the next chapter! This one was fun! I really laid some good ground work here and planted some hints for future important plot points. So, see if you can find them! I hope you enjoy!

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The next banquet was once again held at the King and Queen's summer estate. But rather than showing up in the evening for a night of dancing and conversation, guests came instead to share a meal and a few waltzes.

All that were in attendance had just enjoyed a delicious three-course meal. A light vegetable soup served with a side of bread, followed by roasted pheasant with glazed potato, and finished off with a delicious iced pudding. You had starved yourself all day for the meal, expecting nothing but a grand spread. It's safe to say you were not disappointed. Your father on the other hand, he was a different story. He had nothing nice to say about the meal, stating that his pheasant was dry and the pudding was too sweet. You were able to conjure up an excuse to get away from him, walking away from your table and into the crowd. You needed to breathe.

You're watching the couples dance around the floor as you feel someone come up to your side.

"Did you enjoy your meal, my lady?"

You turn to see Poe standing next to you, looking as dashing as ever. He's dressed in his usual tuxedo, curly brown hair tamed in a perfect mop on his head. You smile up at him and nod.

"Yes I did. How about you, Lord Poe?"

"Just Poe, remember? I did enjoy it, but I have to say, I wish the pudding had been sweeter."

His response makes you giggle, looking down at your hands. He was so drastically different from your father. Of course they would even differ on something as simple as the dessert.

"Of course, Poe."

Poe turns to look at you. He holds out his hand for you just as the previous dance ends.

"Would you like to dance with me, miss Y/N?"

You nod quickly and place your gloved hand in his, allowing him to lead you out onto the dance floor.

You are swept up in him as you waltz about the room. You could feel that spark from your stroll in the park. Only now, it was beginning to burn brighter, being fanned by the closeness of your bodies. The way he was looking down at you had your cheeks burning red. Poe smiled and held your hand just a bit tighter.

"I very much enjoy the time we've spent together, miss Y/N."

His words take you by surprise. Of course you enjoyed his company. But you were not expecting the feeling to be mutual. You look up in his eyes, a bright smile spread across your face.

"I have as well, Poe. But please just call me Y/N."

_______________________________________________

Those in the crowd watch the two of you as you dance. The spark could be felt by everyone in attendance. It seemed that the young woman who gained praise from the King had found her love match. Any one with eyes could clearly see the connection between the two of you.

That of course meant that both your father and Lord Hux could see this as well. The men were standing off to the side watching.

"I knew she would fall for a younger man. We should have just arranged the marriage and been done with it. You promised me this would be no problem."

"Lord Hux, I can assure you this will simply be a little obstacle in our plans. MY daughter will be your bride by the end of the season."

Lord Hux looks at your father, his brows furrowed in anger. He slicks back his ginger hair with his hand and sighs.

"You're right, your grace. Because I'll be taking matters into my own hands."

With that, Lord Hux makes his way through the crowd and onto the dance floor.

_____________________________________________________

You are broken from your moment with Poe as Lord Hux comes up to the both of you, your father following closely behind.

Poe turns to face him, dropping your hands from him.

"Good evening, Lord Hux. How can I help you?"

Lord Hux scowls at Poe and turns his direction to you.

"I've come to ask my lady to dance with me, if that's alright with you."

You couldn't believe the brazen actions of Lord Hux. It is more shocking that your father was going along with this. He had been so demanding that you behave, but certainly this little stunt would not look good to the ton.

You swallow the lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted to do was dance with him. He had made his intentions very clear in your last interaction. You didn't want to do anything more to give him the wrong idea. Lord Hux stood no chance with you. Poe looked down at you, sensing your hesitancy. He was about to answer when your father stepped in.

"Of course, Lord Hux. Y/N would love to dance with you! It would be her honor."

Your father punctuates those last words with a hard look at you. It was clear you had no choice in the matter. It was either behave now and come out of this with your dignity intact, or walk away and lose the good graces of the King and the ton.

You stay silent as you take Lord Hux's hand and begin to dance with him. Your face is as still as the statues that decorate the elaborate ballroom. You wanted to make it clear to all that may be watching, along with your dance partner, that you were not enjoying this.

Lord Hux drones on about his vast estates, wealth, etc. but you can't bring it in you to listen. None of this information mattered to you. As he continues going on about some group of men he's assembling, you catch the eyes of the raven haired man from across the room.

He's standing amongst the crowd, dressed in a fine tuxedo. You couldn't even take in his attire. All you could focus on was his gaze, which was fixed right on you. The both of you couldn't keep your eyes off each other. Even as Lord Hux twirled you around the floor, your eyes still managed to find him. As the song ended, you nodded to Lord Hux and turned towards the direction of the man, but found that he was gone.

You made your way back into the crowd. You were hoping to find Poe or even the mystery man. You stopped at the refreshments table to get a glass of champagne. As you turned, you spotted the man again. He was talking with a few other men, but the second he felt your stare he looked up at you and met your eyes. You were tempted to make your way over towards him but stopped as two other debutantes joined you at the table. Both girls were beautiful. The one closest to the table had short auburn hair with deep brown eyes. She was wearing an emerald green dress accented by silver beads. The woman next to her had hair that was a bit longer than the other's, but it was a lovely chocolate color. Her eyes were blue, just like the dress she had on.

"Lizzie, honestly. No King is going to be joining the ton this year." The woman in the blue dress states as she grabs a glass of champagne for herself.

"No I'm serious, he's here! Look, he's right there!" Who you now know as Lizzie says and points wildly across the room. You follow her finger and find she is spotted at the mysterious man you've been exchanging glances with. You had to be mistaken. Maybe she was pointing at one of the other men in the group.

You look back to the pair and step closer to them.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude on your conversation. But I couldn't help but overhear you say a King is in attendance?"

The women both turn their attention to you and prepare to make an introduction. The woman in the emerald dress speaks up first.

"Yeah, sorry! My name is Elizabeth, but you can just call me Lizzie. This is Julia."

"Lizzie here thinks that a King from another country has joined the ton this season. I think she's delusional."

You laugh at Julia's comment and introduce yourself.

"Julia, I'm not kidding! My mother told me all about it after the last ball. He was seen talking to

Charlotte. I guess the interaction didn't go so well."

You decide to join in, hoping to get more information.

"Which one did you say is the King?"

Lizzie once again points in the direction of the raven haired man, who is still in conversation.

"That man there, the dark haired one. My mother says he's king of Chandrila. A really broody one."

Julia pipes in, staring at the man along with you both.

"Well, he is handsome. Tall and broad. How do you know he's broody, Lizzie?"

"Oh, he's drop dead gorgeous for sure! But my mother knows some of the lads that served in his army. Said he was brutal."

You let those words sink in for a second before you speak up.

"Well shouldn't you be brutal in battle? I mean especially if you're commanding an army."

"Oh yeah of course. But this wasn't just on the battle grounds. This was to his servants and townspeople as well. Said he would have a big outburst and break things, scream at people, all of that. Seems like a case of another horrid man blessed with good looks. Feel real bad for the one who ends up with him."

You and Julia nod along to her remarks. The two women go on gossiping about others in the ton. You pretend to follow along. But you continue to go over Lizzie's words in your head. Has a king from some other country really come and joined your ton? If so, what was the reasoning? Was he really some dangerous man? It sounded as though he was. It seemed as though you had caught his attention as well.

_____________________________________________

Kylo's POV

Arriving late was not something Kylo was fond of. He hated doing so. But being so far from home meant letters and packages took a bit longer to arrive to him. This resulted in his duties not getting done in the timely manner he was used to. All of this made him late to the banquet. He knew this would come to bite him in the ass.

Kylo had full intentions of going, introducing himself to you, and asking you to dance tonight. But with how late he arrived he wasn't even sure a dance would still be open for him. Or if you'd even still be here.

Kylo scanned the crowd, hoping to spot you amongst all the women in frivolous dresses. With no luck, he turned his attention to the dance floor. There, he spotted you with the ginger haired man from the ball. It was easy to see your distaste for him. It was written all over his face. It took everything in him to stay in place and not remove you from the man's arms. No true gentleman should make a lady that uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to move on and find a drink, you looked up. Kylo felt as if his heart had leapt into his throat and then dropped to his toes. Your gaze was enough to hold him in place. Each spin, twirl, or dip he stayed right there to meet your eyes again. Each time he got that same feeling. He couldn't put a name to it, but he knew for certain he'd never felt anything like it before. He needed to get out of there. The feeling was beginning to get overwhelming. Kylo quickly made his way towards the drink table, grabbing a glass and walking off to a quieter part of the room.

Though of course it didn't stay that way for long. Just as he was catching his breath, two gentlemen came up to him and began conversation. He didn't want to seem rude, but fuck could a man get a moment of peace?

He listens to the men talk about their respective territories and such, including his input every now and then. Suddenly, he felt as though someone was watching him. He looked up to find you staring at him from the refreshments table he had just been at. It felt as though he was just missing you. You turned your attention to the two women who had joined you. Kylo looked down at his glass, half listening to the men in front of him. He was determined to meet you by the end of the night.

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Many had left already. A few couples stood around chatting while their chaperones watched. Kylo continued to scan the room, hoping he hadn't missed you.

He walks out into the main hall near the doors to the estate. There, he spots you standing off to the side while an older man, whom he assumes is your father, talks with the ginger haired man he'd seen you dancing with earlier. He stands and admires you for a moment. You quietly gaze at the chandeliers and art work that graces the walls, content with just being there.

Kylo walks up to you silently hoping not to scare you from your trance. He comes to stand a few feet from you. Now that he is up close, he can really take in your beauty.

He had very limited experience with women, but he understood beauty. He thinks back to the deer in the forest from when he was a child. It was so naturally beautiful standing in the tall grass. It's antler's seemingly reaching the sky, showing off the deer's strength. He remembers how beautiful he found the animal, how intrigued he was by it. Even up until the end, he wanted to protect it. As he looked upon you, he was reminded of that deer. Beautiful, strong, and something he wanted to protect.

You finally felt his gaze and turned to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise. Kylo thought for certain he saw fear flash before your eyes before you quickly hid it behind a polite smile. He quickly snaps out of his thoughts. Kylo clears his throat and tries to provide a smile back.

"Hello miss, I wanted to finally introduce myself. I am Kylo Ren, King of Chandrila."

You stand there staring at him for a moment. He's scared he's upset you in some way. Or even scared you off with his title.

"Hello, your majesty. It is an honor to meet you. I am Miss Y/F/N, the daughter to the Duke of Selonia."

Kylo can't help the small smile that begins to form as he hears your name leave your lips. He knows instantly that it will be a name that plays on loop in his mind for days to come.

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There we have it! They've finally met. About damn time am I right? Any guesses on what's coming next?

Also wanted to add that I will be going on vacation for two week starting Saturday. So I will do my best to update in-between then. But I can't guarantee anything.

Love,

Allie

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: How to Steal a Scoundrel's Heart by Vivienne Lorret

5/5, releases May 24.

Prudence Thorogood has been ruined. After being caught in a compromising position with a man who refused to marry her, she is damaged goods, and her only hope for stability is to steal back the inheritance that was taken from her.

Leo Ramsgate, Marquess of Savage, needs a mistress. Refusing to fall in love or even engage in long term relationships, Leo takes a mistress under contract for four months at a time, and no more than that. Upon meeting Prue, he's immediately taken by her dignity and prim and proper nature (at odds with her reputation). So he offers her a deal: if she takes the role of his mistress for four months, he'll help her reclaim her inheritance. With no other options, Prue agrees. Her plan? To leave London as soon as the affair is over and she has what she needs. But her growing bond with Leo could threaten everything the two of them thought they wanted...

This! Was! So! Good! I've never read a Vivienne Lorret before, and God was this a great first impression. Right from the jump, Lorret tells us what her hero is about without mincing words. He's essentially dumping his current mistress in the first chapter, and quite coldly. He's a gentleman about it, giving parting gifts to the women he leaves, but there's no emotion involved. And Prue meets this very mistress (who I'd frankly love to see as the heroine of another book, shoutout to Lady Chastaine) and is told about all of the benefits of being a fallen woman and having a lover like Ramsgate. It's this embracing of the fallen women that I really appreciate. Because like... yeah. This is a sweet deal. Sure he won't marry you, but he's hot and great in bed and is going to show you an awesome time for four months, covering all of your expenses and buying you whatever you want during that time, before leaving you with the "parting gift" of... like... a house?

It's not bad! Seriously not bad!

And it's no wonder that Prue realizes this (though I appreciate the minor time jump in the book, as it emphasized how important her values were to her and what it meant for her to give them up). Her decision is completely rational... It's just made a bit sweeter by Leo being. Really hot. Like, I don't fuck around when it comes to sexy heroes--this is a sexy hero. Definitely in the vein of a St. Vincent more than a Craven if we're going by the Kleypas Scale--a bit of a reprobate, extremely charming and cultured, and smooth as fuck.

There's so much care taken regarding Prue's sexual comfort and experience, too. Just because she comes to Leo as a ruined woman doesn't mean he's presumptuous. His initial offer of making her his mistress is just that--an offer. Kind of like a job opportunity, to be honest. There's no pressure, no "where's my hug at" which has been the issue I've encountered with other "mistress" historical romance plots. When she initially turns him down, he's good with it. When she returns to see if he's still open to the idea, he actually honors his previous verbal agreement with another woman who he hadn't yet signed a contract with--though he doesn't get into a physical relationship with that woman yet, he continues to cover her clothing expenses as she'd assumed she would have his financial aid. It's... a call that gets him into some trouble, but it makes sense and it underscores the professionalism with which he treats these arrangements.

Which is why it's so satisfying and delightful when he starts to fall for her (which doesn't take long, of course, because Prue is delightful, but he's an idiot so he doesn't realize that just wanted to cuddle your mistress while she's on her period is like... falling in love with her... we love morons). Both Prue and Leo are set up so well as individuals that the way that they start to grow and compromise for each other is amazing. Prue initially approaches sex as something "dreadful" that women have to put up with--but eventually, she really, really wants it with this guy, even if she keeps telling him that she just wants to "get it over with". Leo claims that he prefers his mistresses to be detached, but he's immediately charmed by Prue being a complete mess around him. They can make all the excuses they want, but we the readers know they're falling in love--and isn't that the fucking point of these books? I just want to watch two damaged people who can't accept their feelings fall in love with each other while performing various sexual acts in a historical setting!!!

And yes, as I must always note, the sex is bomb. There's actually a fuckton of foreplay leading up to the actual sex, for plot reasons--but it's good foreplay. It's really good foreplay. And while it's made very clear that Leo WANTS this woman so badly, much of the sex is based on her pleasure. Not to the point that you feel deprived or concerned about him being into it (he is... into it) but to a point that makes sense. Prue begins this book truly skeptical about sex being pleasurable at all, and if she continued that attitude for long into the game as Leo's mistress... we would've had issues. Him truly seducing her in a drawn out manner is a great choice.

This is the book I mentioned involving a puppy. It is excellent usage of a puppy. And also! We have a stinger at the end of this one. Everyone is really killing me with these stingers leading into books that aren't out yet. This novel has a truly killer one--I'm dying for a release date for the next book. But I guess I have to put up with the wait by getting into Lorret's backlist. You know I will!

Thanks to Netgalley for providing me with this book in exchange for an honest review.