#comment reblog ❤️

[elixirfromthestars]

Stoooooop it, you’re too kind 🥹🩷🩷 Thank you for reading and reblogging!! 🫶🏼✨

By The Warmth Of The Oven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. tipsy bucky.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> is it those cookies that smell delicious or is it you?

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Bella @nickfowlerrr ♡ In honor of Can You Feel It? being the first of many beautiful fics I read of yours 🥹🩷 Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

“Smells good…” Bucky’s voice comes out of nowhere from behind you as you grab another tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. You glance over your shoulder to find him sauntering into the kitchen, making his way over to you. 

“Freshly baked cookies always do,” you reply with a gratified grin, placing the tray on top of the stove so the cookies have some time to cool off before you plate them. Your friends had already gone through three batches of them and they practically begged you to make more. It was a nice feeling, almost rewarding in a way, knowing something you made was so loved by your friends. 

“‘m not talking about the cookies, doll,” there’s a bit of a slur in his cadence that catches your attention at the same time that your heart skips a beat at his words. You turn to him to see he’s staring at you with a dreamy smile and a twinkle in his eyes, propped up against the counter by his elbow. You frown at his unusual nonchalant demeanor. You’ve never seen him act this way before. 

Your head tilts slightly as you examine him a little closer. There’s a bit of a sway to his stance and his cheeks are tinted pink. “Bucky, are you drunk?” Almost immediately he shakes his head at your question, “No. I can't get drunk,” he replies with an obvious tone, and yet the pouty frown on his face tells a different story. 

“Right, you can’t…” you affirm, mulling it over for a moment,“Unless…did Thor give you some of his special Asgardian liquor?” You ask, stepping slightly closer to him, the apples of his cheeks getting rosier in response. 

“I took a shot. I started feeling funny and came here—felt safe,” he mutters that last part reluctantly, sharing something with you he wouldn’t if it weren’t for the alcohol in his system.

“In the kitchen?”

“With you.” 

Your amusement is replaced with a soft expression at his response. He most likely hasn’t felt the effects of alcohol in decades and a part of him doesn’t know how to cope with the resurfaced inhibitions. The fact that while feeling unwell his first instinct was to come looking for you—it made a warmth spread throughout you that could easily rival the heat of the oven.

You reach out to cup his cheek, soothing the flushed skin with your thumb. He instinctively leans into your touch, his eyes shining with a gentle vulnerability that causes your heart to squeeze in your chest. You and Bucky have always had a flirtatious friendship for as long as you can remember, but it's never gone past that. Seeing him so openly affectionate with you stirs emotions deep within you that you aren’t sure you’re ready to bring to the surface.

“I don’t think the alcohol is going to stay in your system for long, Buck. How about we do this…you wait for me here while I go out and serve the cookies I baked,” his eyes widen slightly and you can tell he wants to protest until you add, “I’ll bring back some hot chocolate for us to share and we can enjoy it along with some cookies while we wait for that liquor in your system to wear off. How does that sound?” You suggest softly and you can see the way he thinks it through before he agrees with a nod.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you plate a few dozen cookies on decorative plates, leaving a handful behind for you and Bucky to share. You make sure to quickly take them out to your friends and serve up two piping hot mugs of hot chocolate before making it back to the kitchen in no time. 

When you meet back with Bucky you find him sitting on the counter where he watches his legs as he swings them lazily to and fro. You observe him fondly for a moment longer than necessary. Trying to commit to memory how carefree and unguarded he is at this moment. When he notices you his face lights up in a way that makes you feel like the most precious person on earth. 

“Here, as promised,” you hand him a mug of hot chocolate which he takes eagerly—too eagerly—as he immediately goes for a sip of it. Before he can, however, you stop him, placing your hand as a barrier between his lips and the mug. His mouth ends up pressed into your palm, and you ignore the heat that finds its way to your face at the softness of his lips brushing against your skin.

“Bucky, it's scalding hot! You’ll burn yourself! Wait until it cools down a bit, please.”

“It’s not gonna burn me, doll. I’m a super soldier. Watch��”

“Bucky!” 

You use the cookies as leverage to coax Bucky into waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down before he drinks any of it. For the next hour or so, you enjoy each other's company. Between the sweet treats and the lighthearted conversations, time flies by in a heartbeat. 

Then, while in the middle of a discussion over your last mission, Bucky does something that completely takes you by surprise in the best way possible—he kisses you. It’s short, but profound in the way he pours everything into it. Every flirtation you ever questioned could mean something more was proven here with this kiss, that it had meant so much more for more than just you. 

You’re speechless when he pulls away beaming as if his heart might burst.

“Looks like I was right.” 

“Huh?”

“I asked myself what was sweeter. You or the cookies. I knew it'd be you,” he states as a matter of fact, drinking up the way his words affect you as much as the kiss had. There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe him, but it's not because of him, but more so because you think you must be dreaming. 

“That's the liquor talking.”

“I've sobered up a while ago, doll.”

You search his eyes for the truth of it all and you find it. This is real. This isn’t a dream. And the yearning that burns bright in his eyes is one you know all too well. It’s the same one reflecting in your eyes as your gazes lock on one another.

“I still think the cookies are sweeter,” you whisper, your eyes shining with a playful challenge despite the way your heart races in your chest with anticipation. He catches on, licking his lips as his flesh hand snakes its way to the back of your head to cradle it gently.

“‘m gonna prove you wrong, doll,” he declares in a huskier tone as he pulls you in for another kiss. And that night, by the warmth of the oven, Bucky continues to kiss you until he successfully proves you wrong. 

[th3-sad-3mo-princ3ss]

🦇🕯𝕴𝖙'𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖉𝖆𝖞 🕯🦇

Well.. im old as hell yo 🙃 31 huh

I just want to say thank you to all the people who follow me, some since forever, others only recently. Thank you for all the love ❤️ 🔥 a stranger, your mutual, your friend, your favorite person or your crush, I just want to say that I love you. 🌹🫶

Can't be with all my tumblr friends, but we can have some emo cake ,so, here's some cake for you 💕🍰

Like/comment/reblog ,also feel free to add cool stuff ✨️

[pursuitseternal]

“Maybe we should fight more often…” update to “Bites in the Night:” Astarion x F!Reader, nsfw fight/reunion fic

Astarion x F!Reader |E| 4.7K of fight/reunion sex

Summary: He’s so insufferable when he’s hurt, intense when he’s angry, if only you could find the words to soothe that rage and tell him how you truly feel… And once you do, the reconciliation is just as intense and twice as worth it

CW: Repressed emotions, angst, hunger striking vampire rogue, anti-Gale jealousy, True Feelings Confession Again ™️, sweet snuggles and cuddles, semi-public make up sex, appalled campmates when it’s not so semi-public anymore

Read here if you prefer AO3

“Maybe we should fight more often, my sweet…”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Well,” he sniffs, scanning his sharp, narrowed eyes down you, “look who dragged themselves back to camp at last. Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence again… darling.” He snips, acerbic in tone, his lips pressed firmly, arms crossed in that way that shows his annoyance with you. Astarion shifts slowly on his feet, all ice and disdain as you fumble to remove your armor.

“We’re in one piece if that’s what you’re upset about…” you reply, unable to fight the rising preassure of your own blood, matching his irritation.

“Barely, by the looks of it.” His gaze shifts to Shadowheart, busy healing Gale, his mortal skin spotted with bruises and riddled with slashes and wounds. “But perhaps I should thank you, after all, I’d rather Gale take the beating than ruin these magnificent looks, wouldn’t you agree, darling?” He sounds… caustic. Mean.

You meet his eyes, even as he stares at the wizard across the center of camp. His crimson gaze narrows, his lips draw in a sneer. It’s enough, your bile rises as you return his harsh tone. “Oh, so the rest of us tend to our wounds as you lick your wounded pride, is that it, Astarion?” you hiss. “You’re hurt I didn’t bring you with this time?”

“Wouldn’t dream of being hurt, dear. You’re the fearless leader, after all. I wouldn’t deign to force my many skills on you.” He flashes that wicked, twisted smile at you. “No matter how many of them you have seemed to enjoy to your… benefit before.”

You stiffen. Irate. Irritated so much you could… slap him. Your blood is running high at any rate after batte.

“Tch,” his eyes glance at your balled up fist at your side. “Don’t you fret any, darling, don’t expend yourself any more than you have done… without me. I can take care of… beating myself tonight… besides, your hands look filthy after all that,” he grimaces in feigned disgust, “work. And I, I have my pride, by beauty all in tact.” His hand rests on his chest, his whole body crowding you as he curls inward. So dramatic, so obnoxious.

Your whole frame shakes with your pounding pulse. “I hope so,” you huff. “Since you seem so full of yourself, I doubt you will need to so much as feed a drop from me tonight either.” You can’t help it, taking a single finger and prodding it into the middle of his hardened stomach. “No room in there for anyone else, it seems.”

“Perhaps.” He gives a dramatic wave of his hand, long fingers unfurling so gracefully. “Enjoy waking without feeling lightheaded and aroused, then,” he sneers.

You match his stiff posture, craning your neck to meet his furious stare. “See you in the morning, dear,” you snipe back. Watching as he turns on his heel and stalks into the woods. That rage swells inside you. Hands shake as you struggle to peel the remaining clasps and buckles open. You finally lift the plates from your body, throwing them loudly at your feet with a crash and a guttural scream that tears your throat.

As if the whole camp hadn’t heard your spat.

You bury your face in your hands, anger swirled with sadness tugging at your heart and souring your gut. He would not understand. Not when everything was just so… petty about him. Vain, arrogant bastard. Only thoughts of himself in that beautiful head of his. It makes you sick. Heart sick.

He wouldn’t understand.

Not when you were weak. Your thoughts only about… him. About how you couldn’t face losing him, watching his undead body actually look… dead. Watching his broken frame revived by magic at the last possible moment. Gods, you managed to survive it once. You weren’t sure your heart and soul could make it a second time. So you had to choose, injure his petty vanity, or risk losing him forever.

Now, you had to suffer the ire and loneliness that came with it. But at least he was alive. Your one consolation as you felt some distant stare from the forest line as you crumpled to the dirt by the fire. As if bright, crimson eyes watched as you fell apart.

You could almost feel it in the air between you. A wavering of uncertainty, maybe a single footfall back in your direction at the sight of you defeated.

But then, a hand rests on your shoulder, warm. Mortal. And your heart sinks as you look up to find it is not a smirking, pale elf offering you comfort. No.

It’s Gale. That tepid smile and those kindly eyes. He doesn’t need to say anything. Not that you would hear it. Not with how your ears are trained on the growl from the trees and rustle of something big in the underbrush.

You brush the hand from your shoulder, spending the rest of your night cleaning the blood from your skin. Alone. Sleeping. Alone. And you do wake in complete health, that fuzzy, tingling feeling absent. That slick you wake with down your thighs too, gone.

You sit in your bedroll turning your head to his tent.

But his tent is already packed, neat tidy rolls he might have spent hours making. You wonder how you didn’t hear it, you wonder more if he slept at all with how long he usually takes making sure his effects are perfect for your journeys.

That’s when you see him, carting a chest of his things to the side. His eyes lock into yours for a moment. Intense. Cold. Assessing. Concerned.

Then he breaks away. Whispering something under his breath as he strides away.

You’re still too tired, too… ashamed of how you feel for him. Too frightened to tell him the sharp thorn of truth that threatens to rip from your heart. So you begin the same process. Packing up.

Beginning your journey. Searching down your next potential cure. Day turns to night again with little event. Camp remade. And still he hasn’t said a word.

Only those penetrating looks you barely catch him making at you when your back is turned.

You’ve kept your distance all day from everyone. But you can’t help but feel the heated bristle that comes when your wizard does… anything. Hands you a bowl of fresh-made stew. Asks you directions about which trail to take. But the one that breaks your vampire rogue is when Gale tries to roll out your bedding by the fire for you.

You can almost hear his undead pulse spike, his nostrils flaring with enraged breathing. You turn just in time to see him rip the soft roll from Gale’s hands. Nothing more than a cold snarl on his face as he takes it, sweeping it on the ground with a flourish. Making sure he lines you up within view of his tent, you notice.

He crouches by your bedroll, patting it down, his lithe hands fluffing your pillow for you. That’s when you finally swallow your… pride… your fear of facing him. You tug your shift lower, already stripped down for your long sleep. Wishing the fabric was thicker as you approached him, to where he coiled at your bedside like the hunter he is. Your sweet, ruthless hunter, setting your bed arights. You kneel across from him and catch his cold hands in yours. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Those two words seem to startle him from that red cloud of rage he’s shrouded himself in all day. “For being a decent person, worthy of helping?” he hisses. “So good you can see it when it comes to the little, insignificant things between us. Shame you don’t let that extend beyond.”

“What are you going on about?” you shake your head, feeling his hands clench under yours before he yanks them away.

“Ugh,” he scoffs, letting that wounded tone sharpen his words again. “Like you don’t know, don’t realize how you’ve… undermined me. Leaving me here to wallow and drink while you go headlong into danger…”

He swallows. Loudly. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Words he’s keeping at bay by clenching his fangs hard on his own lip.

“You… you’re hurt I didn’t take you yester…”

He gets up. Eyes narrowed to pinpricks as he frowns at you. “I thought we knew each other better than this,” he… he groans. “I thought you, of all people, knew me better.”

Astarion begins to leave you, you shudder. The reality of so much being said unspoken beginning to dawn on you. You watch as he grabs a book and flops himself down before his tent. That’s when you notice your cleric daring to approach him. Her voice is soft, his is biting and sharp. You watch her stop at a great distance, a question on her voice. You hear his exacting answer of, “No, fuck off. Not even Shar’s favorite princess can help me with this.”

More quiet mumbling. A wary look thrown over her shoulder at you with those concerned, tragic eyes. You watch as she hands him a bottle from her side. But he takes it, sniffs it, and tosses it to the ground at his side. It shatters, glass breaking muffled by its contents.

Even from where you crouch, you smell it. The stale metallic tang of old blood.

“Leave me alone, princess,” he snarls, “with all due respect.”

You watch her leave, Astarion buried back in the pages of his book. But Shadowheart’s look makes your heart leap right into your throat. She doesn’t need to whisper to your ear or your mind. He’s hungry. Refusing to feed. He’s angry, hurt. Irritable. Irascible. Intolerable.

And it’s… your fault. Your fear clutching that truth of how you feel too tightly in your chest. You look down at your hands, how they shake on the ground. Whether from guilt at causing his suffering or the fear of what you have to confess in order to ease it all, you don’t know.

“You know you have to tell him,” that soft, deep voice comments from over your shoulder. “Tell him how afraid you are,” Gale whispers.

You stand slowly, careful not to draw too much attention. Just. Careful. “How..?” you hiss under your breath, sure Astarion hears every beat of your heart let alone the words you try to muffle through your lips.

“I don’t need any spell to know how relieved you were that he was safe here. After all, it was just last week that we almost lost…”

You press a finger to your lips, you can’t even bear to hear that mentioned now.

“Sorry,” Gale mutters. “But you need to give him the truth. With all the lies he’s endured, all that has been kept from him for centuries, you owe him that.”

Breathing, sighing, you feel the weight of your confession growing. “Fine,” you groan, but it’s dramatic, affected. Really, your throat grows tight, your stomach twisting into knots as you turn towards the crimson and rose flaps of his domain.

You stop shy of the entryway, waiting. You know he sees you from his perfect periphery. You can hear his breathing steady, the slow tracing of his finger on the page as he prepares to turn it. But he… ignores you. You clear your throat, earning you a scathing glance from over the tome in his hands. Those eyes hold yours for a second before flashing back down to the page that hides half his face.

“Astarion,” you breathe, “please…”

“Please, what?” he spits through clenched teeth.

You pause, letting your body move instead of your words. You settle on the ground beside him, careful only to get close, not to touch. “I need to tell you something…”

He shuts his book, slamming it to the side as he turns his face fully towards you. You read it all in those etched lines and narrowed eyes. His hurt, his anger, his… worry. “If it’s anything to do with my newly appointed role as camp décor, then…”

“I… I couldn’t risk you…” you interrupt him. “I left you behind because I just can’t risk losing you. Not after what I already have had to do to keep you… to heal you from the other… fights when….” You swallow the rest of the story. Of when he almost died.

That fire of irritation chills, the hard wall of vain hurt crumbles. But the pain remains. “So you took... Gale?” he scoffs. “Gale will protect you? Gale will keep you safe?” He snorts unbecomingly through that handsome nose. “I doubt it. Not like… I would.”

You pause. His resentment, his pain… it was the same as the barbs that needle you with worry. You look into his eyes, that veil of anger melts as he sees how yours pool with tears. It’s so much, this ache you carry. “I’m so, so sorry,” your voice wavers with the unshed tears in your eyes, your throat. “I care too much about you to lose you…”

Those last words get swallowed in a sob. You bite your lip as it trembles.

“Really?” he breathes. Heavy and laden with much more than just a question should hold.

“I don’t know how I could face… anything, everything, without having you with me. That’s why I asked for you to stay behind. To keep you, for myself… That’s how… I feel…”

His eyes flicker over your face, centuries of looking into the faces of liars, a skilled student of deception, he can see it. Your brutal honesty. His eyes soften, his hands, reaching across the span between you to scoop up yours.

“I… feel it too, you know,” he whispers, all those silken tones stick in his throat, leaving his voice rasping and quiet. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do, fighting at your side, to keep you safe, to keep you with me always.” Pain flashes over those sharp features. They harden in that second. “And when you left me… behind… it was punishment. Agony. The massive uncertainty of not knowing if you would walk back in here covered gloriously in the blood of our enemies, or bound up in linens for burial.” His eyes fall to his lap, to where your hands are joined.

Your fingers squeeze his. “I was only… afraid of the same for you.” A sticky, tear streaked laugh comes from your throat. “Besides, we could have used you…”

He lets out a single low giggle, a smirk dancing at his lip as he turns to stare into your face. “Tell me, how badly did Gale fuck up? I want to know… every detail.”

“Horribly, more than words can say,” you giggle quietly.

He… just smiles. That hardened, long-suffering sharpness to his face instantly lifted.

And you… you feel it too. That pulsing comfort between you. His thumb softly stroking over the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist. Little tender brushes that aren’t meant to arouse, but to simply… appreciate.

Just as you feel for him. That little bud inside your heart, threatening to bloom into something more. More feeling, more possession. More… you stop yourself from being swept away by the depth of affection he pours on you, what with those wide eyes and tender smile.

You just wish you could be so much closer to him, to bind up all that pain and suck it from his soul like venom, to bring him into your very being. To meld your souls and share your fates. But, for now, bringing your bodies closer was all you could do, and you slowly shift yourself into his lap. The hem of your shift rucks up, but all you can do is chase that need to press his hard body and hardened soul against your thumping heart.

Instantly, you feel that wiry strength ease in every muscle, his arms wrapping around you softly. He guides your legs around his back, clutching you hard and flush against him. You can feel it, the cool hardness of his pelvis seeping into you, chilling you where you are on fire for him. His hands cradle your hips… you cherish him so close to you, the way his belly presses gingerly against yours with every breath. With a sigh, you rest your head on his shoulder, the top of your head tucked perfectly beneath that sharp cut of his jaw.

“Astarion,” you breathe inhaling his soft citrus scent, so many raw feelings splitting you open. He just shushes you gently, reaching for a soft blanket, wrapping its warmth around your middle. Its supple fabric is so warm, so plush, like everything Astarion keeps for himself, knicking the best, most luxurious things he could carry. The heat from your body seems to bleed into his usually cold and lean frame. For that moment, he just… holds you. As if there was no greater treasure to purloin in the realms than you.

His fingers wrap delicately beneath your chin, guiding you to look back him once more. Wide crimson eyes gaze on you, their soft intensity scanning your face, as if he is committing every detail to his long, ancient, undead memory.

He hasn’t murmured another word, and by the way his throat bobs with rapid swallows, you don’t know if he could if he tried.

The language of your bodies might just have to suffice.

You wrap your legs around him tighter, savoring the way his breath passes down your neck, fluttering over the dip in your neckline. “What is it you wish to feel?” he finally breaks the gentle silence between you.

Your brow furrows slightly, mind racing through so many thoughts… so many feelings and desires. None of them suffice. All of them frighten you.

Finally you force yourself to inhale, that scent of his skin going right to your head. “You,” you finally let a single word form your tightened chest. “All of you.”

You feel his hips shift, pressing his body, the planes of his stomach… and lower… firmly into your own belly.

“Not just your body, Astarion. I wish to feel all of what makes you…”

His eyes narrow slightly. A wince of pain gathering at the wrinkling corners of his eyes. “Some of what has made me who I am will feel… awful, unspeakable…” His voice is harsh as his body stiffens against you, arms gripping tighter in his embrace.

But you hold just as firmly into him, clung around his neck. “I don’t care. It is nothing compared to the pain that would be to lose you…”

Head cocking to the side, he breaks his stare from you. You hear his throat wet, hard swallows as his arms hug you tightly. Ever since your first embrace, he’s never shied from holding you, but this… this feels different. Desperate. Intimate. As if he clings to your soul by clutching the body that houses it.

“Then you won’t lose me, ever,” you barely hear the words. You aren’t even sure if they were meant to be heard. So quiet. Barely more than air from his lips.

Something loud clatters behind you, the smells of roasting meat and stewing vegetables wafting from the distant fire. You startle, trying to crane around to see, but his fingers return to hold your face fast and facing him. Something smolders behind those scarlet eyes now… that glimmer of hunger, a pang in your own stomach at the smell of food, you see its reflection in his gaunt face. But it isn’t food of which he is starved.

It’s you.

You witness that shift inside him, that awakening of the predator as he licks his lips. He pulls that blanket around you tighter. The thick material covers your back as his touch steals behind its curtain.

His hands are searching your body, caressing… exploring. Cold fingers slip into your lap, and you swallow the gasps as his touch brushes over your thighs. Skating higher, racing up your leg.

To find you bared already.

A sultry smirk teases one corner, a single brow arching as he looks into your face. Amused. “You come to fight with your lover so defenseless for… battle? I’m glad I did not underestimate you, darling…”

“I…” you swallow, feeling your cheeks flaming as you realize his fingers only delve deeper into your folds, even as the others in camp mingle around by the distant fire. “I’ve taken to sleeping like this… just in case,” you feel your own prideful, lustful grin turning your lips as he hums his approval.

“In case of what, darling?” He keeps that arrogant smile far enough away to watch your every little expression. “I want to hear you say it,” that honeyed tone sinks into his chest, barely more than a growl for your ears alone.

“In case, you… In case I… ahh,” you have to clamp a hand on your mouth to keep from moaning out loud as his finger hooks right on your clit.

“In case I… ahhhh-maze you with my seduction? In case I ahhh-rouse you with a midnight feeding?” He presses his lips on that column of your neck. Nothing more than a peck, but you can hear your pulse in your ears. “Mmm, speaking of feeding…”

“You could have swallowed that stock Shadowheart gave you,” you tilt your head where the shards of broken green bottle laid beyond the edges of his tent.

“But why should I, when all I want to feed on is right here…” his tongue laps at your neck, his finger shoves deep into your cunt. “To be clear, I mean both these parts of you, darling, in case you missed my meaning… any everything in between…”

You hiss, muffling your sounds of pleasure through bitten lips. “You know I didn’t come crawling over here just to ask you for sex…”

“I know,” he arches a brow in wry amusement at how you grit your teeth to keep from moaning, his fingers playing deeper inside you now. “You were too spitting angry to do that. Call it… a gift, a little something to sweeten our reconciliation.”

“I’d warn you… the others…. Ahh,” you pant mid-sentence as he hooks once more right across your clit.

“Tch, you know I don’t care. They can all watch if they wish. I’m sure it would be most instructive,” his brows furrow for a moment. “Except for Gale, I doubt any lesson would sink into his thick skull.” But his arm pulls that blanket around you tighter again. “But don’t fret your sweet sensibilities,” he gives you that rakish smirk and a gentlemanly nod, “I’ve quite literally got you covered, darling.”

His other hand shifts between your bodies, but you barely notice as you’re too busy feeling that heat and dampness building. His thighs raise your body slightly, and that’s when you feel it… when you realize what he had been busy doing.

As he shifts to have you sink onto his cock.

Your mouth hangs open. You aren’t sure if it’s in shock at his audacity or at just how good it feels to be so… connected after hours rife with separation. Hands grab beneath the blanket, pulling you flush, joining you so fully. You bite your lip, fighting the urge to push him down to the ground and ride him. But you give a shaky exhale.

Astarion smiles widely, his tongue rubbing over his fangs. “Come closer, my sweet,” he purrs, hands shifting your legs beneath you, raising you to your knees.

You groan, feeling the pressing, pulsing friction of his cock inside you dragging as you shift. You tilt your head, presenting your neck, a visible feast for his mouth, as you grind on his lap, almost imperceptibly, filling you to brimming. As you sink once more, his hips giving a slight thrust, his teeth slicing those razor edges into your flesh.

A grunt escapes your lips, loud. You slap a hand over your mouth to hide it as his mouth sucks and swallows, laps and drinks. Your ears train in the distance, but nothing sounds off… perhaps they’re used to you being fed on, by now, it was common enough.

Not as common as having his cock buried deep into your cunt, the rest of them unsuspecting, bustling around the camp. Barely giving you any notice.

He’s giving those little noises as he feeds, so hungry, you feel his lips sucking hard, taking what is his. The tickling of his tongue over your skin, the pursing of his lips hard enough to bruise.

He’s humming his approval, timing it to cover every little sway you make on his lap. Biting your lips, you grind oh, so slowly. Just enough to stir the friction of his cock deep inside you, the curve of his length pulsing and pressing against that tingling spot he sets on fire every time he fucks you.

And each imperceptible grind on his lap catches right on it. He’s shushing you now, bloodied lips grinning like the sated predator he is. So fucking proud of himself. Arrogant at how he’s slipped right in, conceited that no one else knows your dirty little secret.

“You’ll smooth over this little tiff by coming for me, won’t you, darling?” he rasps into your ear. Making you buck, hard and high, wanting nothing more than to feel him pummeling hard and fast into you.

“Yes,” you moan, so softly, “if you do too…”

“I’d never dream of it otherwise, my sweet…”

That’s when something cold steals over your thigh, shoving its way to catch on your clit. Your eyes flash wide, your mouth hangs slack in a silent scream as he circles his finger right over your clit.

“Hells,” you groan, “you want us to get caught?”

“Of course,” he purrs, “if they’ve watched our spat, the least they could do is appreciate our…” gods, he’s circled more of his digits into your honey-dripping cunt, “… reunion.”

“Hgnf,” you grunt loudly… and all your vampire does is laugh and feed at your neck once more. Letting you jounce on his cock at that subtle speed that he’s making increasingly harder to keep.

“Oi… are you both feeding or…” your tiefling’s merry voice is tickled with suspicion.

“Ugh,” Shadowheart’s jewel-toned voice chimes in, “they’re fucking again. Disgusting. Couldn’t even get her inside your tent this time, vampire?”

Your vampire only laughs and licks at your skin, hands now clutched at your hips. He raises you to slam on him now. “Might as well, darling. They sound so happy for us, so delighted we’ve reconciled,” he comments loudly enough for all to hear.

“Well,” it’s Gale’s voice that you catch next, not that you notice much else now but the all-consuming bloom of pleasure that’s taking hold. Now that you buck your hips against his lap with reckless abandon. “It’s better than fighting, at any rate.” He gives a weighed sigh as his voice grows more distant. “Leastways, they aren’t screaming and shouting at each other.”

“Oh,” Astarion gives a mirthful, taunting giggle. “Screaming and shouting can be arranged…”

He leans back against the pillows, grabbing your hands to splay them on your chest. You need nothing more. No quips or instructions or flirtation. You just let you body chase your climax, releasing all those swallowed moans and cries you buried in your chest until you didn’t know if your throat was sore from chastising your rogue, confessing your need for him, or from screaming as that hot bliss of orgasm wraps around you at last.

He’s clenching under you, tearing his nails into your hips, bucking and thrusting and pulsing inside you as he spews his seed deep. Until it drips down to smear on his thighs too.

“Maybe, just maybe…” he pants, rakish, contented smirk on his face as you gaze down at him with lidded eyes and slack smile, “maybe we need to fight more often, my sweet.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

To explore more, here is my Master List✨🩸

[blitzwhore]

Friendly reminder to double-check if fanart has been reposted without credit/permission before reblogging it.

I know we all reblog stolen art without realising it from time to time. It's a mistake we can all make, and I'm positive I've made it before. We can't always be paying close attention to everything we reblog. But, if you can, please just... be careful.

My heart just broke a little because tumblr just recommended me a blog with a bio that essentially says "yes, I repost art, if you're not okay with that just block me and don't bother me with your stupidity". And to see that some of the stolen Stolitz fanarts, reposted on that blog without the original artists' knowledge or consent, have ~2k notes, is just... Oof.

That's love that the original artist isn't getting. The reposter, who put exactly 0 effort or love or ambition into that piece of art, is the one being rewarded with all the praise and love and attention instead.

I just. I don't like engaging in fandom drama, and actively try to avoid it. This post is definitely not intended as a callout, and I don't intend to point fingers or "cancel" anyone (I'm saying this because I know how the Internet can be sometimes 😓). This is just me saying, hey, be careful, and treat others how you'd like to be treated. And just... don't reward this kind of behaviour. Please. If you've ever had this happen to you, you know how heart-breaking it is, and if you haven't, I hope you can empathise anyway. When you put so much love and effort into something, it means so much see and know that other people like it and appreciate it. And finding out that your creation is getting all that love away from your sight, and someone else is receiving all of that love instead of you, is genuinely really fucking upsetting and demoralising.

[mariamariquinha]

Okay, so... I had an amazing feedback as always, but this one made me laugh more 😂😂😂 Let's talk about the interactions here:

@nerdyreaderpapi

Yes. You're right. Tbh, I love his style here and Benny is probably one of this sexiest characters.

@ammirabilis

RIGHT???????? My God, this is the type of thing you look, consider for a moment and say well at least he's cute.

@the-hinky-panda

I loved your comment so much, it's a mix of science with a character reading 🤯 QUEEN!

And I agree with you! Honestly, I believe he's into that "never quite grow up" because he like the idea of being the cool guy and shit. The others are basic. He doesn't even need to compete with Nick - still, he makes history with these looks.

@mysoulisasunflower

I LOVE THESE GIFS WITH ALL MY HEART BUT I COULDN'T FIND THEM TO MAKE THE POST 😭😭😭😭😭 thank u.

At this point, we can all agree that it's better for him to just... Be there. Gerard Butler will deal with this by himself 😂

@thoroughlymodernminutia

Oh no, I love the 90s! One of the best fashion eras for me. And Benny fits with it really well, just as I know you too! 😍

Of course his mother dressed him like that. There's no other explanation - even if I believe that his mother would have a better fashion sense.

@cheesybadgers

Flannel shirts? 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

That stupid tea cosy hat? 😐😐😐😐😐

But let's pretend he just needed to keep his hair in place 😂

Benny Magalon's Wardrobe - A study

OKAY, LET'S TRY AGAIN. After having a colapse because I DELETED the whole thing yesterday (I was doing here, mobile, because I was bored), we're trying again tonight. Now I'll save the drafts 😁

First and foremost: His style.

Maurice said while promoting Den Of Thieves that he had a finger on creating Benny' looks. I think it's awesome! Even if he appeared for, like, five minutes during the whole movie (and maybe that's the reason why they let him have this 'freedom' 😅), I truly believe that there's a lot of Maurice there.

That being said, all of my comments here comes from a place of... My own headcanon. Fuck the canon. There's no canon. And you can disagree, okay? 👀

He is from the 90s. Head to toe. Maybe he was the type of teenager or young adult that loved that Ice Cube movies. I KNOW HE DID. Posters and all. And he could be that type of listening to Snoop Dog, Dr. Dre, Tupac Shakur kind of guy, but his mother would scold him for listening to these songs. Perhaps he wanted to be the bad guy, the gangster - then one of his cousins ended up in a difficult situation and it scared the shit out of him.

(I'm going too far here 😅).

ANYWAY, he's stuck. 90s. Let's go.

---------------------------

THE FLANNEL SET

Flannel. That's it. The verge of being inside the 90s style (California Loooove 🎶🎶🎶) - and honestly? I love this. Maurice looks good with buttons.

THE MY MOM DRESSED ME

I don't like this one. The tac vest? The cap? (That's how we call it?) The sunglasses? Great. The shirt with the long sleeve undershirt? That's a big no for me. Sorry.

THE ALL BLACK

I will say something here that is more of a snippet of Bossa Nova than a separate comment, BUT - he was wearing this during that first encounter at the crime scene. Discreet, really what he is, and the pecs... Damn. Good boy.

THE I SHOULD BE AT HOME

He should. And I'm choosing this gif because he looks good being annoyed.

-------------------

What do you guys think? As always, you can add your personal favourites (even if I don't think he appears THAT MUCH during the movie 😅).

Taglist:

@cheesybadgers

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@mysoulisasunflower

@the-hinky-panda

@seaweeden

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@nerdyreaderpapi

[skellydun]

starting to realize why I never used twitter or reddit after my carefully cultivated internet enclosure gets broken into

[poisonousquinzel]

why tf did they make the Arkham guards give him a shave??? i can't tell if the blood from his mouth was supposed to be an inflicted purposeful wound, but i didn't even see it happen 😭 but accurate for Arkham ig, it sucks lmao

[talshiargirlfriend]

Me to everyone who comments on and reblogs (and otherwise supports) my fic 🥰

[katerinaaqu]

I am seriously considering laying down from writing at this point guys 💔 given the latest poor performance online of not only my project with @yararts but also Greek mythology material and the way I feel like I am forcing my stories to people with my begging for attention and mentions and tags or my promotion for my writing here or in ao3

So I think it is better for all if I lay down a bit

I will absolutely continue replying to your amazing asks (and I am reading them all guys sorry for being late!) And analysis and random thoughts upon mythology or history etc

But I am not sure that my fanfiction shall continue because honestly the fact that fandoms have taken over so that only people who quote the retellings get proper attention is discouraging and turns other works into echo chambers where writers have to beg their way through. Doing things you like is great but the things that need to be begged through when you post them online literally to share with people has become emotionally exhausting and discouraging

So yeah after I finish a couple of projects I am working on, I am seriously thinking on laying off writing and publishing for a while... maybe I will still publish one or two stories from time to time but yeah...

[nebula-remnants]

I bet you guys didn’t know I was a writer okay you probably did I mention it a lot in offhand comments WELL I BET YOU HAVENT SEEN ANYTHING I MADE YET THATS GETTING COOL (Writers purgatory (writer’s block) im trying bro I swear pleasf 😭😭😭)

writing process reveal no one asked for because one day I’ll actually finish the au and it will be super cool probably ❤️❤️

step one: idea time

Step two: mental breakdown

Step three: become a hateful creature

Step four: write (optional, but just so you know if you decide not to you will repeat steps 1-3 in an agonizing loop until you do)

[elixirfromthestars]

I think many of us share that same sentiment, my lovely 😂❤️ Thank you for reading and reblogging!! 🫶🏼✨

Boulevard Confessions

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader 

Summary: Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): drinking / fluff / jealousy / divergent from canon timeline / suggestive language / tipsy symptoms / mentions of war + the hardships that came with it

a/n:  Here’s a little piece that’s been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages. For context, this timeline is one where Steve and Bucky both made it back from the war safe and sound and are enjoying their lives now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ As a little psa my writing challenge is still ongoing!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

for ambiance 🎶

“ I am about to spew my dinner all over this table,” you grimace, downing the rest of your martini. The bitterness of the spirits was lost on you as your consumption grew in time with your sour mood.

Peggy eyed you from across the table, holding back her amusement, “ If you keep stuffing your face with martinis you will.” You reach out to grab another unclaimed drink, but before you could, Peggy slid the rest of them away from you. You crossed your arms, blowing out a resigned sigh. Even in your inhibited state, you knew better than to argue with an SSR agent. 

Peggy shook her head at you, “ As your best friend I have an obligation to put a stop to this. Don’t you have a shift tomorrow at the clinic?” Your eyes went wide at the reminder. 

You slump in the booth, dreading the bad hangover awaiting you in the morning. “ I do, but thankfully it's in the afternoon. I won’t feel it by then. . .” You trailed off, failing to convince Peggy, or yourself, you wouldn’t be miserable at work tomorrow. Peggy turned to look at the dance floor before returning her attention to you, “ You know, maybe you should dance the dizzy away. It might help you sober up.” Your lips purse at her suggestion, noticing a certain blonde-haired blue-eyed super soldier returning from the bathroom.

 “ It's easy for you to say. You have a dance partner,” you motioned over to Steve. 

“ You would too if you would only go up and ask him,” she pointed out. 

You glanced at the dancing couples, “ No way. With the way that leech is clinging on to him—I’d never get one word in.”

She shrugged, “ You’ll never know until you try.” These were her parting words before Steve arrived at the table and escorted her onto the dance floor. You watched them, your head bopping along tiredly to the swing music. 

Maybe you should have stayed home. 

You almost didn’t come to the outing—being the third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn’t exactly your ideal Thursday night fun. However, Peggy had mentioned Bucky would come along, and seeing as you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks due to conflicting schedules, you thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up. 

That was until the leech—a woman named Darla—decided to hog Bucky all night. Darla had been trying to get with Bucky for over a month now. You found this out tonight when Steve made a comment about it. Bucky hadn’t paid it much importance, so you thought it must have not been anything serious. However, right about the time you and Bucky were starting to catch up, Darla came over and dragged him away. 

Since then you’ve been inhaling martinis like your lungs preferred them over air. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over to Bucky’s figure. Handsome as ever in his navy suit—your favorite color on him—and hair neatly combed. Watching as Darla threw herself at him with the courage that you lacked. Pulling him every which way on the dance floor, holding his hands to her hips in a tight grip. 

Your stomach contents were threatening to come up again. 

When did things get so complicated? You scratched at your brain for an answer. Spending time with Bucky had been so easy back at the military base where you met. You were stationed there in the medical unit caring for wounded and ill soldiers. During that time, you became great friends with Peggy and everyone on the Howling Commandos team. Bucky would frequently visit the medical unit even when he wasn’t sick or wounded. Sometimes you swore he would fake injuries or aches just to come and see you. Anytime he came in with something new he would refuse to see any other nurse but you.

It made you feel special. While other women were smitten with his charms and stumbled over seizing his attention—you had it without effort. You had so much more than just his attention without even trying. On hopeless nights he shared his fears, on days where the war seemed endless you eased his worries, and when he felt like the world was crashing down on him his heart spilled all vulnerabilities to you. 

You found refuge from the horrors of war in each other—a balm to each other’s wounds that went beyond the physical. In no time, something deeper for him bloomed within your heart. 

Ever since the war was over, however, things have been different. It’s been a couple of years and Steve and Bucky work alongside Peggy for the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Going on missions has become their norm, so seeing your friends is a rarity nowadays. 

You on the other hand were given a job at a children’s clinic in Brooklyn. You were grateful for this small piece of normality coming back to you. Treating smaller wounds on smaller bodies instead of lethal wounds during a relentless battle. Your senses are permanently burned with sights, sounds, and smells horrific enough to induce nightmares—and they do—managing to steal precious hours of sleep from you almost every night.

It was something you and Bucky especially bonded over.

“ May I have the honor of a dance, gorgeous?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to meet a pair of unrecognizable hazel eyes. A handsome stranger stood in front of you, his hand outstretched for you to take. If you had but only one percentage less of alcohol in your system you would have declined his offer. This of course wasn’t the case, and not wanting to reminisce on more melancholy thoughts, you decided to listen to Peggy’s advice and dance the dizzy away.

Even if it wasn’t with the man you wanted to dance with.

“ You may,” you smiled at him, taking hold of his hand. Swiftly you were swept into the sea of couples on the dance floor. The handsome stranger—who you soon learn was named Thomas—was an impeccable dancer. With one hand holding yours, and the other holding you gently at your lower back, he spun you around the dance floor in rhythmic kicks and slides. Thomas’ energy was infectious and you couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm. 

After two dances your footwork and Thomas’ were practically synchronized. Thomas twirled you, causing a giggle to escape your lips. It seemed the alcohol was stubborn about staying in your system as the twirl caused the dizziness to come back—for a split second—making you trip over your own foot. Thomas caught you and steadied you, both of you laughing at your clumsiness. The carefreeness of it all lulled the ache in your heart.

Behind Thomas, you caught a glimpse of Peggy who was dancing as joyfully with Steve. Her eyes met yours and she sent you an encouraging smile. Soon after, her eyes drifted to something behind you, turning her smile into a smirk. You went back to dancing with Thomas, but manoeuvered around to get a look at what caused Peggy to smirk. Your heart did a little jump when you discovered she had been looking at Bucky and Darla, dancing a few feet from where you were. 

Correction. She had been staring at a Bucky you barely recognized. His jaw clenched and body rigid as he glared daggers at the back of Thomas’ head. Darla beside him looked snubbed, tugging on Bucky’s arm to get his attention. His tense demeanor didn’t move an inch no matter how much she protested. The pair were no longer dancing, merely standing in the sea of all the couples. This piqued your curiosity. 

Why had he stopped dancing? And to glare at Thomas of all things?

You didn’t have much time to think about it as Darla, clearly fed up by Bucky’s lack of attention, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him away from the dance floor. You swayed to and fro with Thomas, controlling the direction you were swinging in to try and not lose Bucky from your line of sight. 

Where was Darla taking him?

Your heart stopped when you realized where they were going. Darla was making a beeline for the back of the bar where the honey hallway was. The spot where all the couples went to have a little more privacy and fool around without having to leave the bar. If he was going there with Darla, then maybe things were more serious between them than you previously believed.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when reality sank in. 

You excused yourself from Thomas, scurrying away in need of some fresh air. He offered to follow along, but you declined wanting to be alone. You threw the entrance door open into the Brooklyn night as a sickly feeling spread throughout your body. 

You stepped into the street, the swing music fading into the background as the door closed behind you. You took in a deep breath, once again regretting the amount of alcohol you had consumed.

If you weren’t drunk seeing Bucky with someone else wouldn’t have hurt so much. It wouldn’t have knocked the air out of your lungs like it's doing now.

You know that’s a lie. That’s a damn lie you’re telling yourself to get you through the night. To give you the strength to focus on your surroundings and trudge home. 

You’d eventually do that. First, however, your body seemed to want to cling to a street lamp to bring the world back to you. The cold metal underneath your palms grounding you for a moment. The breeze blowing past you threading through your hair as if to comfort you.

“ Doll, everything alright?” Your heart stuttered when you heard his voice, the thud of the bar door closing following it. You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying or doing anything the liquid courage in your system was trying to wrestle out of you. 

You knew you needed to make a quick getaway. 

“ I’m fine. Just heading home,” you were straight to the point before turning to walk away. Not looking at him as you put one foot in front of the other—and then stumbled. 

Bucky caught you, his arms offering a strong support,“ Woah, Y/n, how much did you drink?” There was a slight annoyance in his tone. As if the mere thought of you having fun was preposterous. 

Or at least that’s how your tipsy state interpreted it.

“ Doesn’t matter. I can have a drink or two if I want to. I get to have fun too,” you retort, trying to push his arms away from your body. Your arms are no match for his, as he doesn’t budge an inch—on the contrary, his hold gets more firm. The world started to spin more, but at this point, whether it was because of the martinis or his proximity—you wouldn’t know. 

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes,“ This isn’t having fun. This is going overboard,” he counters. His constant need to hold you steady and scold you for drinking irked the part of you that was already upset with him—fueling it more. Especially when you had the image of him heading to the honey hallway with Darla ingrained in your brain. And his arms, the ones around you now, swinging her around on the dancefloor. 

There was something dark bubbling an envious brew within you. 

“ Why do you give a damn?” you snap out harshly. He stills at your tone and it's enough to shake his hold off of you. You force yourself to look at him. Intending to shoot him an annoyed glare. Something to convey what your heart felt when your words failed to—but when your eyes met his you froze. 

They were dark—virtually stormy—and yet, there was a hint of pain in them. Almost as if you had kicked him, but he was toughing it out.

“ What was that about?” He finally spoke after what seemed like too long. 

“ What was what about?” You feigned innocence. 

His eyes got darker, a disapproving half smile on his face,“ Don’t play coy. I come out here to check on you. You’re stumbling like a drunk fool. I try to help and you snap at me?” 

“ I didn’t ask you to,” you’re quick with your dismissal.

“ You…unbelievable…” Bucky lets out a scoff, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. In his mind, you’re simply too drunk to regulate yourself. He doesn’t know the vile jealousy that bubbles in the pit of your stomach and gnaws at your heart. He doesn’t know the intense battle your emotions are having with your brain—right in front of him—to stay silent before you truly say something you cannot take back. 

“ Go back inside. I’m heading home,” you say simply, not wanting to dwell on this conversation any longer. You feared what might come of it if you didn’t.

“ No. I'm walking you home,” he shakes his head firmly, his tone matching in conviction. 

“ No, you're not,” you reply, turning to make your way down the boulevard. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, “ Like hell I'm not, doll. I'm not letting you walk home alone.” 

“I'm not letting you walk me home. I don't want you to,” you say adamantly as your feet start moving. Bucky is right beside you as they do, not letting you get away,“ I don't care what you want or don't want. I'm walking you home and that's final.” His voice leaves no room for argument. 

The martinis in your system don’t particularly give a damn, but it is enough to quiet you for the time being. Your speed increases slightly, but Bucky can match it easily. For a moment you consider running—as ridiculous as an idea that may be. 

The sharp patter of your footsteps against the pavement synchronizes with the thudding of his as they mingle down the boulevard. The city sounds around you are an otherwise low hum of the occasional car and distant conversation. The city still whispering its signs of life at this time of night.

The walk to your place isn’t too far. And you know if you don’t shake him off soon there would be an unpleasant conversation awaiting you when you arrive.  

“ Don’t you have someone waiting on you at the bar?” You remind him with a little sting to your heart. Secretly hoping this wasn’t the reason he’d walk away from you.

Bucky frowns, thinking for a moment before speaking,“ What? You mean Darla?” The sound of her name on his lips bristles you. 

“ Yeah, her,” the word her spills from your lips as if it was venomous. Bucky catches that and is taken aback for a second. His footsteps coming to a stop. You push yourself to keep walking. Taking this as a sign to ignore the tiny part of your brain that begs you to stop moving.

Not a minute later Bucky strides to your side,“ Doll…are you jealous?” He asks with the tiniest bit of doubt, his small smile overshadowing it. 

“ Me? Ha! No,” your denial is quick—too quick. His small smile turns into a wide grin. You’ve just confirmed his conjecture,“ Yes, you are.” 

“ No. Go ahead and marry her for all I care. I won’t be at the wedding anyway,” you don’t mean what you say and yet you said it anyway. Playing up the indifference act you’ve dawned. 

“ You won’t be at my wedding?” He’s not upset when he responds, he's amused. He has to hold back his laughter at your train of thought. This gets under your skin and you grumble a snippy no before picking up your pace. You’re now imagining Darla in a wedding dress next to Bucky in his suit and it does devastating things to you. 

“ That’s impossible.”

“ How so? I just won’t go.”

His tone takes a more serious turn when he replies, “ It’ll be hard to have a wedding without the bride there.” You come to a halt, your head whipping so fast to look at him you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“ What?” You manage to find your voice. His gaze softens,“ You heard me, doll.” He’s being completely sincere—you know this deep down. However, there’s still a part of you that doesn’t believe this is happening. That believes this to be a dream.

“ You don’t mean that.”

“ I do. If you were to ask me where I see forever—I see it with you.”

His confession takes your breath away. The mere admission of him thinking of you as his eternity—as the one he wants beside him for life—your heart could burst at how delightfully overwhelmed it feels. 

“ But you—” you start and his pointer finger gently presses against your lips to shush you. He already knows what you’re about to bring up and he needs to nip it before your drunken mind jumps to wilder conclusions.

“ She’s just a friend. She’s a secretary at the SSR—nothing more. I was dancing with her to be nice. Honestly, I was trying to find a polite way to leave her and get back to you until I saw you dancing with that guy,” he removes his finger from your lips once he’s done explaining. At the mention of Thomas, his jaw clenches briefly and annoyance flashes in his eyes. 

It dawns on you why he was glaring at Thomas earlier. The realization of Bucky having felt as jealous as you did sends your heart ablaze. Your heart had gone through so much tonight, you were surprised it hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest already. 

“ Who’s the jealous one now?” you tease, an almost giddy smile on your face. 

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully,“ Yeah, doll. Unlike you, I’ll admit it. I was jealous. I don’t like seeing you with another man. Laughing and dancing—should've been me, not him,” he says stepping closer to you. His eyes reflected pure adoration.

“ Why didn’t you ask me?” your question comes out quieter than you’d like. Enamored with the way he’s looking at you. You can barely focus on anything else. 

“ Because when it comes to you I get all nervous and worked up. It's like I’m a punk again—a dumb kid with a crush. I don’t want to mess it up with you, Y/n. I would never want to do anything to lose you. Guess I got too caught up in doing things right I didn’t do anything at all,” Bucky opens up to you, his answer shedding away any last bit of hesitance in your body.

“ Bucky…I wish it would’ve been you instead too,” you say softly, stepping closer until you’re only a few inches away from him. His features match yours in fondness as he gently reaches out to grab hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, and closing the final bit of distance between you.

Your hands rest delicately at his chest. You can feel the way his heart races under your fingertips, drawing out a small gasp from you. Knowing you had this effect on him delighted you. It made you wonder how long you had been making him feel this way—and how long you had missed the signs.

“ Told you. I’m a dumb kid with a crush,” he reiterates with a soft chuckle. You giggle at his words, beaming dreamily at the way that all of this is real. That Bucky has feelings for you, and you two can only grow closer from here on out.

For a split second his eyes dart to your mouth. Having you so close like this tempts Bucky to no end. Everything he’s ever wanted to do with you crosses his mind and it drives him crazy. He has no idea where to start or if he’ll even let himself start anywhere. 

Your body thrums with anticipation as it waits for him to make a move.  

Bucky ends up tenderly kissing your forehead, “ Come on, doll. Let’s get you home.” Your lips form a light pout, disappointed his lips didn’t touch yours. He sees your reaction and he laughs, giving your hips a light squeeze, “ Doll, our first kiss will happen after you get that alcohol out of your system,” he says, one hand reaching up to lightly swipe at your nose—finding you endearing. 

“ We’ve already had our first kiss.” 

“ Doll we—oh, we have…” 

The memory of you two drunkenly kissing in the medical tent on one particularly lonely night during the war flashes through your minds. The already tension between you rising to a palpable form. 

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes,“ Still. If I’m being honest, I’m not stopping at just one kiss. So let’s wait until you’re sober, alright?”

“ Not stopping?” Your tone is playful as you pry for further explanation. 

“ Oh no, doll. I'll be doing so much more than kissing you,” he smirks, his words laced with suggestion. His hand goes out to cup your face, caressing your cheek. It warms under his fingertips at his implication. The air around you buzzes with electricity. 

He can tell where your mind went and he’s enjoying every second of it,“ Yeah, doll. Like taking you out on a proper date,” he winks at you. A genuine laugh erupts from you at the way he side steps what he really meant. He joins you in the laughter, his eyes telling you the truth of what he really desires.

You. Every bit of you.

You interlace your fingers with his, knowing deep down he has a point. When you kiss Bucky you want to be all there. You want all your senses to be fully awake to drink in every bit of him. 

Especially if it goes farther than a kiss.

Bucky moves you over so he’s walking on the outermost part of the sidewalk, holding your interlaced hands to his waist so you’re pressed right up against his side as you walk. You tease and playfully banter all the way to your apartment. The unspoken promises and unmistakable yearning for one another dancing around you two. Assuring you there was so much more to come. 

[jackstheprinceofhearts]

Eva and Jacks are the definition if opposites attract. I cannot think of two other characters who are as different as they are.

ok i see where you're coming from BUT think about this:

they both want nothing more than love

they both will sacrifice everything for a happily ever after

they both crave affection and validation

they both have had to deal with heartbreak in many different ways

and they have a lot of other similarities

but, they both dealt with their trauma in different ways, that's why they seem different.

jacks became closed off and lost hope while evangeline chose to still have hope that everything would work out right.

thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[firewoodfigs]

a study in reformation

Summary: She doesn’t like him, doesn’t like his hair, doesn’t like his face, doesn’t like his conceited attitude and the way he’s looking at her like she’s wasting his time (and not the other way round).

Roy doesn’t care.

or

the college au where Roy is still a pain in the ass, a thorn in the flesh and the bane of Riza's existence

-

tags: alternate universe - college/university, aka the au where roy gets to do all the grand romantic gestures that he never got to do in canon, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots in love, slow burn, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, fluff, humour, no war trauma just daddy issues!!!

inspired by the @royaiweek 2023 prompts (fake dating & haunted) 🌌

rated M | 6167 words | chapter seven

[🎧 playlist is available here!]

[mariamariquinha]

@thoroughlymodernminutia

"when you decide to make your characters pass through drama because everything is way too peaceful"

Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f! reader) - Eight

Seven

Summary: When Nick’s stuff gets in the way.

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: Bad words, SMUT, protected p in v sex, mentions of oral sex, mention of drug crimes, violence and other things related, mention of strip clubs and slight reference to corruption.

Gatita - Kitten

Author’s Note: Took me a lot, I don’t know what happened. Eh. That’s it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

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He didn’t make love to you - it wasn’t something you personally asked. 

He fucked you.

But it was… kinda sweet, because you didn’t ask to be treated like a whore either. He looked and acted and sounded intuitive. You could guess it before - Benny was quiet, discreet. None of his friends would be able to sell themselves to make a good impression like that. 

He had a sense of self-preservation to begin with. Easy eyes, kind hands, even if the situation itself could eventually be too heated and not very… kind. Benny might’ve had his reputation, the Borracho of his name, but if you thought that your nerdy-facts-conversation was anything but stupid, seeing him really turned on by your talking made you go for some assumptions. 

Continuar lendo

[whimsyvixen]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 100000 likes!