#quaver draws

[howlingday]

Blake: (Leans on Sun, Rubs on him)

Blake: (Purring like an engine)

Blake: (Pulls away) WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!

Sun: Psh! You're weird~!

Sun: (Put catnip in his hair for no reason)

[shagpaboloutpost]

"Log 20.

"I caught an arsonist today. They were in the business district, targeting the customs office. I apprehended them, but -

"Legally we can't hold them very long. It wasn't a Republic building, right? Out there it's all the Hutts'... property.

"They asked me why I bothered to protect the place. They said - Not relevant. Anyway, there's certainly people who hate the Hutts, and might be willing to provide information. So I'm hopeful that not punishing them too harshly might make them inclined to tell me things.

"They said the whole city was built from slavery, though! And not a long time ago. They were a natborn, some Togruta, and I don't know how old they are but they're young. They were sold out the back of the customs office. That's not - I'm a Republic soldier. It's not my job to protect that.

"It's not still happening. It couldn't be. Not with the treaty."

[a pause and a click]

"Why target the customs office?"

"I told you."

"There's been no slaver activity on this planet since -"

"You think that matters? The ships that come through still have people on board that never asked to be there. The Hutts still make their money this way. They pulled it out when you moved in, but you didn't stop anything. This city's money is all slavery through and through. Have you ever walked through those streets thinking about that? How much fucking -"

[a pause]

"Go on."

"You said you would let me go."

"I will."

"Once I give you what you want."

"Here. No cuffs. Go on."

[a pause]

"It's nothing you'd care about. Sir."

"I'm not going to hurt you unless you attack me."

"Who said I was worried about that?"

"Are you going to finish your statement? I want to know why you did it."

"You know - fine. Make me say it. Get off on this, as usual. Everywhere I go out there it's something the slavers brought here. The parties. The trade. The money and food and clothes. All of it's stolen."

"Is that it?"

"I'm done talking."

[a click]

"I let them go. It's not our jurisdiction. They weren't willing to tell me much about the Hutts' current enterprises, if they even knew anything. I just - I didn't know. The city feels so free now. Going out there is like being let into something. They all seem so welcoming now that they've gotten used to us. It can't be everything good about this place.

"But I guess if they grew up here they'd know better than me. And when I moved, and they stopped talking, I could tell they thought I was going for my blaster. So maybe...

"I wouldn't know what they've been through. We're lucky, having the army. Nobody is going to force us into anything, right? I guess natborns don't have those guarantees. Not out here outside the Republic.

"This was a dead end. I'm sticking to more appropriate investigations from now on. Not trying to enlist strange natborns and hear gossip. Just evidence."

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Bunny Breeding

Warnings: MDNI, breeding kink, pet play, slight hybrid fetish

Xavier loves breeding his little bunny girl.

You're giggling as he chases you around the apartment while you wear a ridiculously short skirt with a cotton ball tail right at the top of your ass, a rabbit ear head band on top of your hair. Your tits bounce freely as you look for a place to hide but Xavier has already found you.

With a predatory chuckle he pounces and traps you under him on the sofa.

"No point in struggling little bunny," He murmurs in your ear, licking the shell. His large hands hold your hips and raise your ass, creating a a tempting arch in your back, his hand flipping up the flimsy skirt. His hot erection springs free against your plushy bottom before he adjusts himself, finding your moist core with ease, drawing a quavering moan from you as he stretches you open deliciously, bottoming out and filling you with his length so satisfyingly.

Your cries of pleasure are accompanied by a smile as your cheek is pressed into the cushions, squirming in faux protest as he pistons in and out of your willingly wet pussy.

"Thought you could run away from me did you?" His palm possessively cups the swell of your ass and squeezes. "Thought you could hop away without letting me breed your sweet little pussy?" Xavier grits his teeth as your walls involuntarily clench around him.

"Clearly you needed to be bred my little bunny. Your cunt keeps sucking me in, pulling me deeper and closer to your womb. Do you want me to fill up those fertile walls? Knock you up with my kits and make you a bunny mama?"

The words are growled hotly in your ears and all you can do is whimper, your rationality flying out the window.

"Yes...breed my little bunny pussy...I want your kits..." you whine, the lewd sounds of skin slapping skin filling the air.

"That's a good girl. Raise those hips for me. Wouldn't want to waste this precious load now." You do as requested, your pussy slick from your arousal.

"Please make me a mama...I need you to fill me..."

Your soft pleading mewls are his undoing, and with a final thrust, Xavier buries himself inside your pussy, his cock twitching as his hot seed is released into your awaiting womb.

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[sunasbon]

toji finding out we have a choking kink

TRYNA FREAK YOU DOWN .ᐟ ❞

୨୧ sum : toji finiding out you have a choking kink.

ઉ warnings : 18 + content, choking, mating press, overstim, slight mean toji , dumbflication etc, toji has a tounge piercing..🙂‍↕️

“. . filthy cunt suckin’ me in already . ?” toji kissed his teeth, having you laid against the mattress. your legs leant back behind your head trying to desperately hold yourself upright resting your calves onto his board shoulders, toes all curling up. the faint smirk spreads across his face as one his free hands latch onto the back of your thigh, steadily rocking his hips back and forth feeling the warmth of your walls greedily clasped around him, squeezing him in tight every single time — your fairly certain starting to think your going stupid on his dick, precisely what he wants.

“. .toji . .wait..!” you chewed onto your bottom lip whining feeling the length of his fat mushroom tip massaging your sopping pussy invitingly, thawing his hips up against your ass feeling your tummy flutter. your nails dragging upwards on the flat of his back feeling your vision fuzzy as the he shifts his body urging your legs folding squeezing against your chest, leaning his board body into yours pressing his chest into you. that arrogant smirk paints his face, his piercing gaze never faulted basking in your figure haulting his pace of hips—shortly he puffed out his chest, rolling his eyes sharply peering downward at you . “. . what little girl. . .? . .you that already dumb on my dick? . . or somethin’. your head resting to the side, exhaling a sharp breath rising and falling from your chest trying to muster up enough courage to ask him — the simple question on the tip your tongue swallows hastily biting the bullet of things.

“w-well . . could you . maybe..— um choke me .?” you finally mumbling off the words roll off your tongue smoothly. toji quirks a brow, the flat of his tongue licking a stripe up towards the side of your neck tasting your tingly skin, feeling the cool metal of the tongue piercing slightly brushing fairy over your feverish form — not enough to actually hurt you. your body quavering underneath his posing form, candid eye piercing into you — a raspy chuckle deep within his chest, he firmly let go one of your thigh, sliding his free hand toward your throat, squeezing it lightly.

“. mm . . wonder how tight.. y’er pussy gets with my hand around you like this . . ?” toji coos, continuing driving his hips into yours, feeling the familiar sensation in the deep pit of your tummy, you arched your back dragging your nails against his beefy forearms — jaw clenched tight as he felt the quaint sting form the starches of your nails, the clear sheen of sweat across his forehead pressing against yours as the friction of your nipples rasping against one another — his prominent hand, squeezing down on your throat.

the clear sheen of sweat across his forehead pressing against yours as the friction of your nipples rasping against one another - his prominent hand, squeezing down your throat. the warmth of your walls of your cunt gushing around him tittering you on edge — a glob of drool spills out the inner corner of your mouth. gaping open feeling your throat becoming parched, with the way his mushroom tip jerked against your form shifting his weight around, legs writhing as your muscles tightened, sucking him in by the minute. the sheer clear of your arousal coating at the base - you pressed a hand against your tummy, the bulge of his dick hitting into your sweet spot, your starting vision a hazy- a blisstul sight. "'. .toji!.s'close..shitshit..!"

“..yeah . . y’er pussy likes when i hit this spot doesn’t she. . .? the scent of musk and sweat waffling in the air, feeling your body arch upward into his body, the prolixity of skin slapping, his back muscle tenses up— a dry groan slipping from glossy his lips, feeling his balls tightening and draw up into a frenzy grasping your tightly ensuring you wouldn’t run —brows knitting together. “ that’s . . it want me to stuff this tight pussy . ? yeah? . .” toji hissed, the faint grin splayed across his face — your shut your eyes tightly clamping down onto his base, body shuddering out and jerking in his hold, dragging your hips against his pelvis, his body shuddering chest heaving up and down— feeling his hips slowing as you tensed up slowly against the mattress, basking in toji muscles tensing up, the white ring of his cum forming at the base —not pulling out of you just yet, the bed still creaking underneath the weight of you both, the legs of the leaning to side, snapping leaving just the mattress standing. “ . . fuck . . toj that was expensive . .!

“heh . . im not paying for it . .good luck.”

[screampied]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE choso x artist!reader in which they're dating for just a few months and reader has a sketchbook full of drawings of him but keeps it a secret fearing he'd think it's weird or something and then one day he finds the sketchbook and is absolutely flustered and think it's so endearing and showers reader with praise for their drawings (it could be a little nsfw by maybe making it so that there are a few sketches of choso shirtless/in bed)

- 🍧

꒰  warnings . . choso x fem!reader, touch starved choso, overstim, praise, cowgirl. mdni. wc: 1.7k

choso knew about your hobby, just not the particular filthy things you’d draw.

he’s been dating you for a few months and you always expressed your love for your hobby, he even let you draw him a few times. he’s always praised you and showered you with various compliments, telling you how talented you were.

yet one day, you end up leaving your sketchbook over his house—he didn’t mean to peek, but you did leave it wide open. coincidentally open to the most revealing pages.

his eyes widen ever so slightly…

scanning the thin lined paper with perplexed eyes, the sketches of him, shirtless, the more he looked through the pages, the more lewd they became. some were even intimate, shirtless and with the cutest yet embarrassing expressions.

his head fills up with fog just imagining you, his pretty artistic girl, sitting down to draw this—draw him.

“…you weren’t supposed to see that.” you suddenly spoke, running a hand down your neck.

choso turns to face you, and he’s so flustered, and maybe even a little hard.

“shit, ‘m s-sorry baby,” he mutters, his ears growing hot from the very sharp tips—as if he’s a deer in headlights from being caught. he closes your sketchbook and has a cute sheepish grin. “i was gonna drop it off to you but then i-”

“it’s okay,” you utter, sitting down beside him. he lets off a cute gasp once you sit right down on his lap — your back pressing against his thin tank top, re-opening your minuscule-like sketchbook. you flip towards the very back, to some of the drawings of him more unclothed, more…nude. “i was gonna tell you. about um these.”

his hard-toned chest was pushed up against you, and he feels all warm once you grab his hand, making him trace a finger across the lines of your drawing. “ever since two days ago, my drawings got kind of.. y’know, dirty.”

two days ago…

when the two of you had sex, choso was a mess. constantly whining in your ear….begging for you to keep praising him, wanting you to tell him that he’s doing a good job at pleasing you. so that’s where those facial expressions came from.

he was so embarrassed, even more-so that you were sitting on his lap. you feel something poke underneath you and you smile to yourself. “you remember too? you were so whiney, choso. it was always on my mind, and whenever i’m away i just drew my imagination.”

“why imagine when we can do the real thing, baby...” he whines — pressing a soft chaste kiss near your neck, cutting off your words.

he grows so needy, just the thought of you drawing him in such provocative dirty ways made him feel things he couldn’t even comprehend. you smile — feeling him snake two hands around your waist, the tips of his fingers ghosting against the thin pink fabric of your shorts. “i missed you. missed touchin' you.”

“did you?” you hum, placing down your pencil before turning your body to face him. he tries to speak but a cute whimper exits his mouth, and he’s already tugging at your shorts.

“yeah yeah,” he sniffles, and he couldn’t wait anymore. his patience ran thin — and not even seconds later, he yanks your shorts off, only to now being exposed in your pretty lace underwear. he starts panting, feeling you teasingly start to grind against his bulge. “…fuck,” he murmurs, running a finger down your slit, watching you quaver as a response. “looks like you missed me too, baby. ‘s wet for me already. nasty g-girl.”

his attempt at dirty talk was so cute — you couldn’t help but kiss the tip of his nose, making him grow even more flustered before you bring down his sweats, eagerly springing out his dick that was just aching to be inside.

it twitched as your hand wrapped around it, and he leans back against the wooden chair — a soft groan leaving his mouth, “could have been.. fuckin’ me the entire time instead of drawing me, baby..”

“stop whining,” you tease, sneaking a wet kiss on his mouth, choso’s pink lips tremble, so needy for more of your taste, he whines again the moment you pull away, you watch him slide his tongue across his lip, savoring your candied lip gloss taste.

you bite down on your lip the second his throbbing cock prods against your leaky hole, he feels all hot. a tad bit dramatic, it’s adorable, the way he looks like he’s about to cum already.

“y-you make me feel things, baby,” he stutters out, ripped and clenching underneath his top. you intake a single rickety breath — before slowly sinking down on his length. “been two days but felt like,” and he pauses to thickly swallow. “two years, f-fuck…”

“you know i drew this too, choso?” you whisper against his ear — softly nibbling on the tender skin and you’re just driving him crazy.

he grips down on your hips, shivering at the way you start to rollick your hips against him. “drew this exact position, baby. of me riding you, making sure to sketch the way your eyes roll back and…”

“t-tell me more.” he whimpers — giving your ass a tight squeeze, his jaw clenches and he feels so warm, thanks to your warmth. you squelched against his again and again, his thigh starts to bounce in retaliation.

you giggle at his needy enthusiasm and sheer curiosity, he’s stuffing thick inches into you that makes your brain spasm for a bit, so good….

“i always make sure to memorize you when i draw you, choso…” you hum, peppering a plethora of kisses up and down his neck, his pointed chin raises a bit and he moans at the sweet soft feelings of your lips making contact with his hot skin.

“memorize every inch of your body, so i can sketch it well,” you continue, and he squeezes more against your hips, he’s the one biting his lip now. his ears continue to burn up to the tips of it, and with the smoothness of your voice — he was sure he’d cum early, there was just no predicting with you. “…sometimes i let my mind run loose a bit, and sketch out the time when you and i are.. well…intimate.”

“baby y-you’re so perverted,” he moans, his eyelids grow heavy and he doesn’t want you to stop, his voice was so sweet — cloying with silk dripping from his tone, just listening to him made you even more soaked. “my…perverted girl,” and he brings you close to him before licking a stripe up your neck. “but ‘s okay…knowing that you draw such things about me makes me like you even m-more.”

you brush a thumb against his lips, staring into his eyes before humming as a response. “yeah?”

“y-yeah,” he whines as a response, nodding fervently. his grip on your waist never lessens, and he’s balls deep — each stroke, each rough smack that thwacks against your pussy makes him so hot and bothered. “wish i could draw you how you draw me, b-but you’re the talented one.”

“i can always teach you,” you purr — teasingly sliding a single finger down his chest. “i can be a model for you too, just for you choso.”

he stares at you, and his expression is so cute, his eyes glimmer and he has a face that basically says, ‘really?’

“w-woman, talkin’ to me like that… ‘s gonna make me cum so hard,” he sighs, his grunts were heavy, chest completely heaving.

something rang throughout his ears with the way you bounced and rocked against him. his head spun and he was so obsessed with watching your body.

the way it jerks against him, taking him fully every time, despite his girth deliberately stretching your pussy out to its fullest.

“i know, i know…..” you coo against his ear, choso’s nearly trembling underneath you he’s lost in a trace with the way you pepper such kisses all over his face — he feels all tingly from your affection, and the way you’re making him feel.

such low wolffish grunts escape his mouth and its sexy, a tiny pussy-drunken smile purses against his lips after you ghost your lips against his. “you gonna be messy and cum for me?”

“…yeah, only if you let me…?” he moans, and his tone forms into a cute question.

digging his fingers into the depths of your waist, your cunt clenches down on his numerous times, you can’t even count how many strokes it’s been. “baby..”

“go ahead,” you mumble sweetly, planting a single kiss near the tip of his nose, just that single gesture alone, he’s so weak.

choso whimpers, chasing his incoming high. teeth clenching in utter desperation and lust, he craves his release so bad. “you can be a little messy.”

“okay, okay….o-okay,” he hiccups, leaning in, pulling you close towards him, he’s nearly sweating and it hasn’t even been that many minutes, he shoots out a sticky load of such thick ropes inside of your pussy.

it makes you moan yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck, softly nibbling on his collarbone. “s-shit, ‘s much comin' out for you, baby…”

choso continues whine — pulling you lightly by the neck, bringing your into a wet deep kiss, and between kisses you hear him mutter out, “love you,” for the first time. his voice was so sweet, shaky and all — you blink twice, wondering if he really said it and he grows flustered immediately once he realized what he said. “w-wait, baby, i mean-”

“i love you too,” you tease — sitting up and pulling his twitching now flaccid dick out of you, he grows quiet at the wet sounds of his own cum seeping out of your cunt, his bottom lip quivers at you being in such control before you grab your sketchbook from the table, pressing a final kiss against his mouth. “do you think i should sketch this too for you to keep? all your cum just spilling out of me?”

“please,” he whines. “draw it now, baby. i’d put that in my wallet for only me to s-see.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 20

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The crackling of the fire grows clearer as the tides of sleep swirl and still. Your eyelids part to the flicker of the hearth, a figured limned in the rustic haze, looming over you, lifting you, moving you with ease. You stir and fidget, pressing a hand to the firm wall against your arm. The woolly tunic scratches against your palm as you feel the pulsing of a heartbeat beneath.  

You look up at the square jaw of your accoster. King Geralt lays you on the mattress, your disposed clothes cleared away from the corner. He's gentle as he sets your head on the pillow, caressing your cheek and your hip as he draws away. He stands, looking down on you as his fingers curl and extend, a hot breath rushing from his nostrils. 

You watch him as the the world sharpens around you and a flow rolls over you like cold water. You push yourself up on your elbows as the king's eyes rove your figure beneath the thin shift. He sways and brushes his hand over his chest, letting out a deep rumble. 

You want to say something. Anything. Just a word to break the fragile tension between you. You can't get a single noise out. He stares down at you with his gold eyes, like coins shining, forged in flame. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, snug to you as he rests his hand on the other side of you, tenting his arm over you. His other crawls along your shoulder and down to your wrist, walking back up again. His fingertips spread goose prickles along your flesh as you lay frozen in his fiery exploration. 

The haze of the fireplace, the gleam of his eyes, and the dregs of your drowsiness make you doubt the realness of it all. Are you dreaming still? Everything is so much more than it should be. His heat, his touch, the way you can feel his need radiating from him. 

You fall flat, staring at him, entranced by him. He brings his calloused palm to cradle your face. You gasp and latch onto his wrist.He lets his fingers flutter away and turns his arm, looking down at your grasp on him, cautious but firm. You see how his cheek strains and he sits up, grazing his other hand over yours.  

He covers your hand with both of his and draws it up. He unveils it like some precious treasure and kisses each knuckle. You shake as each brush of his lips tingles through you. He pulls back and keeps hold of you, lowering your hand between you. 

"You fear me," he says, "you fear what I want from you." His voice is low and sonorous, "I want nothing from you. I only want you, my summer maid." He inhales deeply and lets it out with a quaver as you feel the tremor in him, "my treasure." 

Your eyes sting and tears soften the lines in your vision. You shake your head, a knot in your throat, a pinch in your chest. He brings your hand flat to one of yours and twines his thick fingers between yours. The difference is drastic, a reflection of your status. He is all-powerful and you are a speck in the wind. 

"I have worn a heavy crown, I have raised an army, I have bled in battle, and not of it can compare to this, my treasure. You are my greatest achievement. By fates, I found you. I thought that I was destined to sit the throne, to unite these peoples, to hold it all in my hand," he squeezes, "but this is all I need have in my grasp. This is what called me to your southern plains. All of it for you. I have won it and so quickly as you bid me, I would give it up." 

Your lashes flick as your heart swells. He cannot mean it. Not any of it. You are only a maid. 

"You have your fear, little maid, and I have mine. They are one and the same," he gazes down at you, eyes wrought in layers of pain, sadness, and longing, like the sediment of the earth, worn and weathered through the years. "I fear myself all the same as you. I have withheld myself for as long as I can and yet I feel myself dwindling. I feel the rope fraying." 

You sniff and shake your head, "your highness..." you croak and your voice seems to crackle in the air, "Queen Jazlene--" 

"Do not speak her name. I beg of you. Treasure, I beg. I will beg you anon." 

He keeps hold of you and shifts off the bed. He brings himself to his knees at the side of the bed, clinging to you as he once more kisses your hand. As you lay helpless to him. 

"Do not fear me. How can you when I only mean to worship you," he rasps. "As any treasure, I only mean to prize you, to hold you dear, to keep you from those who would steal you away. To keep you for my own. Treasure, you are mine, all mine. By rights, I, King Geralt of Rivia and the Hinterlands, claim you. No other shall have you. Upon my life, I could not bear it." 

You close your eyes, ice trickling into your veins at his declaration. He is king, he is the almighty, and you are his. You are sworn to serve and by rights of marriage, you are bound to him. Even if it wrong, even it transcends the vow he spoke to another, a king may bend the laws as serve his purposes. A maid may only obey. 

"You have forsaken me," you whisper. 

He kneels in silence, lowering his head to rest on your hand. You lay in tableau, strangled and solemn, as he prostrates himself at your side. As a mourner might do for some tragic corpse. Is that not what this is? Grief for the treachery of it all. 

"I belong to you," he speaks at last, rising as he releases you. Your eyes roll open and pinpoint on him.  

He turns away and pulls at his tunic, stripping it from his broad shoulders, revealing a back ridged with muscles. He drops it on the seat of a chair and sits in another. He is patient as he unbinds the straps of his boots and removes each in turn, placing them neatly aside. He undresses piece by piece, rapt in the task of his dissembling. 

He remains only in his braies, the short garment ending at the top of his thick thighs. His stomach is as thick as the rest of his, muscles wrapping around his arms and chest, fur like the very wolf he's sewn into his cloak. He approaches the bed and you steel yourself for him. 

He lifts himself over you, hovering just above, his hands above your shoulders as he holds himself on his knees, straddling as he once did in the moonlight of your unconscious. He peers down and breathes a scalding plume upon you. You shiver and meet his eyes, unable to repress the wash of terror that comes over you. 

He pushes himself to the other side of you, folding his arm to fall upon his side. His other stretches over your stomach as he nestles against your side. He lays on his shoulder, facing you, and his nose brushes your temple. You clutch a fold of the blankets in your hand as his traces the shape of your side, playing with the seam of your shift. 

His touch creeps over your stomach and his lips dance on your cheek. He exhales your name into your ear and his hand cups one side of your chest. A whimper escapes your throat as your nipple hardens, poking him as he fondles you. He is gentle but diligent, eager as he explores your body, as if you are another map to be conquered. 

He trails up to your neck and his thumb draws a line along your throat. You feel his gaze but cannot face it. It burns hotter than the heart. He touches jaw and chin, as if he's never seen anything like you; cheekbones, nose, forehead, as if he is an artist moulding a statue.  

He presses his straight nose to your cheek and drapes his arm around you once more. He embraces you from the side. He tucks his fingers under you and you bring your hand to his thick forearm, feeling the soft hair along it. You claps onto him and shudder at the ceiling. 

"You will not always fear me," he whispers, "when you see the world for what it is, when you see me truly, you will feel as I do." He snarls as he leans his weight into you. "You cannot fight fate, my treasure. Even a king cannot bid what is written by destiny." 

You let every ounce of strength drain from you. You sink into the mattress, surrendering to his will. Whatever he might do, whatever he might demand of you, you will give in. That is your duty. 

He purrs as his own body relaxes, "I only wish to feel you, little maid. My soul needs yours close." He closes his eyes and bows his head to rest against yours. You shut your eyes once more but know you will not rest.  

You are afraid. You are terrified. All your life you've served but this is more than you've ever been asked. The peril is all yours. A king would never face the same atonement as a maid. 

⚔️

The king enshrines you in his warmth. You examine the white strands of his hair as you lay in his arms. Your gaze wanders further to his rounded muscle, the unmatched strength woven in his body. His statue matches the intangible authority attached to his very being. He is power incarnate. 

You feel smaller as you lay beside him. The night passes, as it will not matter water. Time marches on like the very army that invaded your homeland at the behest of the man now clinging to you. Just a maid. Just a deceiver. 

You turn your eyes past the king's sleeping form. His rumbling snores underline the soft crackle of embers breaking down. You cannot remove the danger buried deep in your chest. Memories only drive it deeper and deeper. 

Your remember when Jazlene was only a girl. You've known her through every year of her life. You've seen her grow from cradle to crown. She might be flawed, she might be selfish and rotten and mean, but she is still that life you watch round the duchess' stomach when you were but yourself a child. She is still a living being. 

There was a time when she did not obsess over jewels and silks and bottle. When you both were just young and naive. When she counted and you hid, then switched places. When you revealed yourself form behind your hands and she giggled in amazement. That time is gone and you only see doom ahead of you. 

You can't lay there any longer. 

You move the king's arm off of you and sit up. You put your back to him and bend over your lap. How you could melt to a puddle like the icy outside those castle walls. How you might wilt away like a flower without shade. 

You do not dare leave the bed. Your emotions cannot overrule the man behind you. You flinch as he quiets and his snoring turns to a long groan. A tickle crawls up your back as he touches you. He pinches the fabric, tugging it as if to get your attention. 

"Are you well, treasure?" He asks with grit in his throat. 

"It is morning," you say, though the shutters block out the day, "shall I fetch you something to break your fast?" 

He sighs and his hand fists the back of your shift. He pulls until you twist to look at him. He props himself on one elbow, holding his head as he looks at you. His expression is not as stony as it usually is. He is not the statuesque king, he is just a man, entirely vulnerable in nothing more than a piece of cloth. 

"I don't want you to be maid this day," he touches your hip, his eyes dipping to watch his hand. "I want to... show you something. I want you to know this land. Once you do, you will know me." 

"As you wish, your highness." 

His brows lower and he pushes himself up, sitting against the pillows, "it doesn't need be. What do you wish, treasure? Tell me and I will grant it?" 

You push up one shoulder, "I wish for nothing. A maid does not..." 

"Not a maid," he insists again, "you, what do you wish?" 

You lower your head and turn back to the chamber, "I would see your land. Show me then what I have not already seen." 

His forceful breath uneases you. He is disappointed, though you say exactly what you should. What he should want. You will heed his desire, he only need declare it. 

"Very well," he jostles the bed as he moves to sit beside you, "you will need to dress warmly. I will have gloves and a hat. Some boots," his arm is snug to yours, " 

"Thank you, your highness," you utter. 

"No, Geralt. My name is Geralt." 

Your chest racks and your shoulders feel as if there are pins stuck in the joint. Your lips part then clamp together. You try to muster your voice but it catches like phlegm. You nearly choke. 

"Will you say it?" He asks gently. 

You turn to glance at him. It feels next to blasphemy. You blink and he reaches to frame your face with his large hand. 

"To hear my name on your lips would me like a sacred melody. Please, treasure, just for me, you can say it," he pleads. 

You take a breath through your nose and let it out in a wisp, "Geralt." 

He smiles and his thumb runs along your chin to your lower lip, "again." 

"Geralt," you say louder and he toys with your lip, his golden eyes narrowing on it, hungering for it as if a starving man looking upon a fine citrus. 

"Again," he commands once more. 

"Ger--" 

You cannot finish is name as he covers your mouth with his. He smothers you in his need, pulling you against him, snaring you in his arms. He brings you over him as he falls onto his back, moaning as he delights in the taste of you, nibbling at your bottom lip. He hums and draws away as you breathless stare down at him. 

"I have never known paradise, not in the hinter or the summer, but I find it here," he growls, "upon my very chest, in my very arms. If only it could be forever." 

[cardo-de-comer]

replaying good ol' Overlord lately and decided to draw my favorite jester, Quaver <3

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whisper of the Forgotten | pt. 5

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,2k words | warnings: mentions of trauma and violence | masterlist

Your head whips into his direction, eyes wide open, heart racing. His shoulders are squared, shadows slowly dancing around him, his face unreadable, emotionless as he looks at you. 

"I wouldn’t know what there is to talk about." You focus your gaze back on the book, trying to ignore him. But he is like a nasty fly, he lingers and then draws closer.

"About us."

"There is no us!" You spit and whirl towards him, getting up quickly. "You destroyed us five centuries ago!"

"Y/N." Azriel reaches for you but you rip your arm away. "Please, let me explain."

"You betrayed me. You left me to die, Azriel." You channel all the energy you have left, straightening your posture, squaring your shoulders. "I don’t want to talk to you, Azriel, ever again. I told you I loved you and a day after you betrayed me. I don’t think there is anything to explain."

You are seething with anger, fire blazing through your veins, your heart aching so fiercely.

"I loved you too.” His voice is hoarse, his chest heaving with a deep inhale.

"You wouldn’t have betrayed me if you really did,” you snap.

Azriel lifts his scarred hands, then drops them and looks desperate. Gone is the strong and powerful warrior, his shoulders droop, his lips quaver. "There was no other choice.” He swallows and a shudder courses through his body. “Please, listen to me. Please, let me explain."

"I don’t want to hear your explanation! I don’t want to hear it!" You are screaming at this point. "I can barely breathe when I am in the same room as you. You make me feel like I am getting suffocated." 

Your shouts have been so loud, they alert Gwyn and Nesta who come rushing into the room.

The door swings open and Azriel whips around.

In an instant, Gwyn is at your side, your body vibrating so fiercely with anger and betrayal, she can feel it.

“What is going on?” Nesta asks, her voice kept level, but you can hear the anger and worry within her tone.

You feel how panic starts to rise within you and know that you have to get out. You are so close to breaking. You need to get out. 

“I can’t do this,” you breathe and before anyone can stop you you run. Past Gwyn, past Azriel, past Nesta, your heart racing like a horse in the wild.

You rush outside the living room, down to the Library. You need to get away. Away from Azriel. You can’t be near him, the pain over his betrayal breaks once again. 

───��─ ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

“What did you do?” Nesta questions Azriel. Her brows are furrowed, her finger poking into his pectoral.

“I tried to talk to her.” Azriel lowers his gaze.

Nesta bristles and so does Gwyn next to her.

“I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you, but what I know is that she is deadly scared of you and doesn’t want to be near you,” Gwyn says, frowning at Azriel. 

Azriel shakes his head, the void within his heart only growing.

But what she doesn’t know — what no one knows— is that he loved you. And maybe, finally it is time to reveal everything. To Gwyn and Nesta, and later to everyone else.

“We used to be lovers,” Azriel admits in a low voice. And then he opens up, tells the whole story about how you met in Illyria —not in the war camps, but in the Steppes. Your relationship was new and secret, not even Rhys and Cass knew, but somehow Rhysand’s father found out about you and saw you as a threat. And then it happened; he wanted you dead, worrying you could defeat him, overpower him, or get in his way. 

Azriel only had two options: your death or the Prison. Obviously he chose the latter. He would have done everything to save your life — even accept his own death.

“Do you understand why I need to talk to her now?” He is impatient, wants to follow after you, but the two Valkyries don’t let him.

Nesta inhales deeply, arms crossed over her chest. She turns to look at Gwyn and then says, “I don’t like the idea of you following her when she is so scared of being alone with you, but I think she needs to know the truth as well.”

It is all Azriel needs to hear. He brushes past Nesta and heads for the door. And then hurries to the Library until he stops at your door (he knows it is your door because he has been here before, followed you the other day but didn’t knock then).

His scarred knuckles rasp against the door, he inhales a deep breath and waits. Then he knocks.

“We need to talk, Y/N.”

He stands in the doorframe, not allowing you to close the door and it angers you. You want him to leave. He broke you. And now he stands here, thinking he can fix all the shattered pieces with a few words of apology.

“What I did was the worst I could do to you, but now that we got another chance I want to use it.”

Azriel is faster than you can react, sliding into the room, now standing right in front of you, so close you‘re breathing the same air.

“We didn’t get another chance, Azriel.” You move closer to him, despite what this does to your body. Despite the anger simmering within your veins, despite the wounds being ripped open once again. One by one, the pain is so strong it nearly makes you whimper. 

“Because there is no we.” You spit the last part, jaw clenched, forehead lying in furrows. 

It hurts so much, seeing him standing there, acting like what he has done is not the worst that someone could do to a person they allegedly love. He did not only break your heart back then, he broke your soul. And he broke the connection between the two of you.

You had felt it the first time you had laid eyes on him. You had felt it right in this moment – the bond. The mating bond, the probably most powerful connection between two people. 

But he had given you no chance to reveal it. You had wanted to wait for the right moment, then you had told him you loved him and the next thing you can remember is getting caught, people – males– hurting you and him hauling you away to the prison. 

You hated him in this moment. You have loathed him for that since then. But when you really think about it, you have to admit that hatred has never been the feeling in the foreground. It has always been pain. Hurt. Anger. Betrayal. 

You loved him, more than anything in the world, more than your own life and he did something like that to you. Hurt you like that. You could have never been prepared for a feeling like this. 

“I did it to protect you,” he whispers. His chin drops to his chest. “I never meant for it to happen that way, but I had to do what I did in order to protect you.”

You ignore him — not able to listen or wanting to listen to him. Your eyes are burning, the back of your mouth aching. You want to hit him, scream at him, but you are left without words. Your body feels exhausted, tired, empty. You want to sleep, and feel nothing. 

“Do you have any idea what was done to me in the Prison? What I went through. What I had to go through. What I suffered.” You finally speak up after a long moment of silence. Slowly you lift your gaze to him, wanting to see the look in his eyes. 

The former cold is now replaced by regret, remorse, his shoulders are slightly slouched and the corner of his mouth twitches. 

Slowly, Azriel shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I can imagine. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” His throat works on a swallow. “I wish I could have protected you from all the pain.”

“You are the one who caused me the pain!” you scream at him, each syllable dripping with betrayal and anger. “You broke me Azriel.”

“I did it to protect you,” he once again says and you want to tear his tongue out for saying this all the time. It is bullshit. He did it to impress the High Lord. He did it to create a good image of himself. 

The same thing you try now in order to regain your powers. You have to act good around the High Lord of the Night Court and his IC and once they trust you enough to give you back your powers, leave. 

“Y/N–” he starts but you cut him off. 

“Do you know what they did when they caught me? When your men caught me and brought me to you?”

You step away from him.

“I didn’t send them.” They weren’t Azriel’s men. They were Rhysand’s father’s men, but you don’t know that, Azriel realises in this moment. The High Lord had sent them back and he tried to be there before them, to save you from them, but he was too late and the damage had already been done. 

“I tried to be there before them.” He folds his hands behind his back, his chin lowering the slightest bit. 

You hold his gaze, tears burning in your eyes. Your hands move to your neck. 

“Don‘t lie to me.” You grind your teeth so hard, your jaw starts to ache. But you hold his gaze, withstand the urge to look away. You won’t give him that. You won’t be weak in front of him. 

Azriel swallows again and parts his lips, probably wanting to say another silly lie or apology, or probably trying to convince you he didn’t send them. But you don’t want to hear it. You lift your hand to stop him.

“Don’t lie to me, Azriel,” you say again. “Not after everything you have done to me.”

Your hands drop to the dress you are wearing and slowly you start to unbutton it. 

Azriel’s breath catches because he has no idea what is happening. HIs eyes are trained on you, he can’t look away. 

You peel away every layer of clothing until you stand bare in front of him. But this is not a sexual act and in his eyes there is no desire, no lust. There is only shock. Horror. Pain.

He is mortified by the look of your body. Your skin is marred, scars adorning every inch of it. The chilly air brushes your skin but you withstand it, having grown so used to it. The cold has slowly become you, you have become cold. Your heart has become cold, empty, dead. 

“That’s what they did, Azriel,” you tell him. “That’s how they treated me when they found me.” You let the dress fall to the ground, shivering the slightest bit, you still hold his gaze. 

You know what your skin looks like, having brushed your fingers over the marred skin many days, thinking about if you would ever be able to love yourself again.

But you have managed to do so. This is your body, your home, you temple, you would never hate it and the scars are only a testament of how strong you are, what you have survived. 

Azriel says nothing for a long moment. He only stares, stomach coiling, chest squeezing.

“That’s what the High Lord’s men did when they caught me. All these scars,” —you brush your sharp nails down your cleavage— “is what the caused me when they tried to catch me, using their knives and swords.”

Your throat works on a swallow.

“And then you arrived.” You move towards him, stepping over your clothes. “And I thought you came to save me, that the nightmare finally has an end, but you hauled me away and put me into the Prison.”

You move closer to him.

“Do you want to see what they did to me?”

He wants to say no, but he can’t. He has to see it. You had to go through it and live with it. The least he can do is see it, knowing it will break him apart, but it is what he deserves. 

“Show me.”

You slide your hand around his throat and slowly each sharpened, pointed fingernail digs into the flesh on the back of his neck, until you are inside – inside his mind.

tag list wotf: @goldenmagnolias @chessebookgirl @blackgirlmagicforever @mollygetssherlockcoffee @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @janebirkln @cleverzonkwombatsludge @namelesssav @sidthedollface2 @brujitafantomatico @ruler-of-hades @favsrachz @katherinejess @jesus-is-me @ashbatz @onyx-obsession @mischiefmanagers @thesnugglingduck @wandas-dream @emryb @esposadomd @marvelouslovely-barnes @landofpetrichor @sheblogs @zoe2 @leeknows-wife @secretlyhers @itsswritten @lupinswolfsbanes @auggiesolovey @going-through-shit @esposadomd @ithan-holstroms-girl @v3lv3tf0x @hibye02 @karinalight @darling006 @just-a-social-casualty @shedreamswithstars @dr4g0ngirl @quinzzelx @shadowsingers-redhood @sirenpearldust @rhysandorian @starcrossedsan @spideytingley @historygeekqueen @starryhiraeth @fasoaurore @thegirlintheshadows101 @sleepylunarwolf @kalulakunundrum @mybestfriendmademe @emryb @63angel  @highladyivy @saltedcoffeescotch

[fuk1ngb1tch]

Kids and my AU Flowey + Extra

Raaah more Undertale au art upon thee!! I love my silly au<33 but this time it isn't just the au- (which is called Mutated Cores) but I'll talk about that last. Anyway talking about the drawings and characters under the cut to save space, which will also have cropped versions of the image<3

First, I'll talk about my AU version of Flowey the Flower. Look at this silly mf

He's MUCH bigger. Context: Frisk is 10 years old!(A little short for their age, but yk) "Normal flower size" is how big he used to be. He's still got the same personality as og Flowey though.

Anyway, I made an OC! And drew Clover!! The OC is the integrity soul, the soul that fell before Clover! Her name is Quaver (Eighth note) and they go by She/They pronouns^^ (oh, and, she's clover's older sister^^)

Btw individual closeups of Clover and Quaver cause I feel like it<3

She fell into the underground when she was 13, and when Clover was 7, Clover going to the underground 4 years later, when they were 11.

Man, I wonder why two siblings both fell in the underground. Definitely had nothing to do with their shitty parents 👁️👁️(headcanon of mine for clover considering things said in undertale yellow, but their main reason was still to do with the fallen humans ofc)

Also NERD (I love him)

Also mini comic?? Wanted to draw my au Clover and Quaver together (as I unintentionally made certain things of their hair very similar which I found neat and wanted to compare them) and it turned out as lighting/shading practice. So proud of myself bro<3 (did not wanna draw that background tho lmao)

Also ended up drawing Starlo and Frisk for it too (I was gonna draw Chara too but I didn't know what to do for em) so ye😋

Anyway wanna learn about my Mutated Cores AU? You can find Frisk&Chara, Papyrus, and Sans too for additional context about the AU! Frisk&Chara will have the most info about the AU itself though currently, along with Papyrus!

Anyway, Finally, the Grillby! He's from a roleplay au:) he's got first that looks like hair just cause it looks cool.

You can find papyrus of the same au of the random Grillby here^^ hope you liked my drawings:)

[cuffmeinblack]

Idk if you’re taking requests but I have one and I’ve loved you’re writing for Ominis so let’s go!!

⚠️spoilers ahead just in case⚠️

I was wondering if you’d be willing to write an Ominis x fem!hufflepuff! Reader where they’ve liked each other but it all comes out before the Scriptorium mission. Like he tells the story on why he won’t use crucio and everything but when Sebastian uses the curse on her Ominis is the one to rush to her and help her. I just want fluff and love for this boy he needs more of it!!

I trust you to write this amazingly and please make whatever changes you’d like I’d just want this boy to be loved ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hold me close

Ominis Gaunt x gn!reader

Tags: angst | hurt/comfort | torture curse

1k words

A/n: Thank you for the request! This is a short little one shot rewrite of the In the Shadow of the Study quest so ⚠️SPOILER WARNING⚠️. Hope you like!

Quite how you ended up in Salazar Slytherin's secret Scriptorium with a couple of Slytherin boys was a mystery in itself, almost as baffling as the one presented directly in front of you. You'd left the cosy Hufflepuff common room only an hour ago, and now here you were, staring at a huge, ornate door decorated with serpents. Salazar Slytherin really liked snakes.

"That must be the voice I hear," Ominis says beside you. " I don't believe I'm about to do this."

Your heart flutters in your chest as you watch him approach the door and take a deep breath before speaking, if it could be called that—a quiet hiss escapes his lips. You jump back in astonishment as the mechanism on the door jumps to life, the eerie green glow of the serpents' eyes illuminating the dim corridor.

"Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed," you say, marvelling at him.

"Between the two of you, I'm starting to feel left out," Sebastian says from behind you.

"Between the two of us?" Ominis asks. If it weren't so dark, you'd swear he'd be blushing.

"I…never mind," Sebastian mutters.

You know what your friend means, but you squirm uncomfortably anyway. It's true, you both seem to have rare abilities that others might envy. You make quite the pair, though Sebastian was none the wiser of your mutual affection.

It isn't long before you encounter yet another locked door in this infernal maze. The floor is wet, the room smells dusky and damp, and you quickly notice the reason why. Following the scurrying of a rat in the corner, your illuminated wand shines on a skeleton in the corner of the room. You fight to hold back the bile rising in your throat. A scrap of paper draws your eye, slightly nibbled but still more or less intact, laying next to the long-decayed corpse. You reach down and pick it up with two fingers, your face twisting in disgust as you try to read the scrawled words.

"Ominis...your aunt Noctua…she mentions being trapped here. Blocked by an unforgivable curse," you say shakily.

Your gut twists with guilt, knowing that having agreed to talk to Ominis for Sebastian had doomed you all. You had wanted to help your friend, but you should never have agreed to it, and the pain on Ominis' face is more than you can bear.

"Ominis, I know this is the last thing you want to do…," Sebastian started.

"Yes, it is! I thought you knew me better!" Ominis shouted back.

Your immediate reaction is to go to him. You wish you could hold him, comfort him, instead you move slowly to his side, your hand reaching for his but falling short under Sebastian's watchful eye.

"Ominis," you whisper.

"I won't do it," Ominis says, shaking his head and beginning to pace nervously. "You shouldn't either."

"I understand, but it's our only way out of here. I can take it," you say, trying to keep the quavering from your voice. You muster the courage to reach out and grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Are you going to use the curse on Sebastian?" he asks in a small voice.

"I don't think I can."

Ominis grimaces as you leave his side, walking over to Sebastian by the door, steeling yourself for what's to come. You trust your friend not to prolong it longer than necessary. Balling up your fists, you nod and Sebastian readies himself, raising his wand and hesitating only for a second before expelling the dreaded incantation.

"Crucio."

A crackle of electricity ripples through your body and you see only a red haze before forcing your eyes shut and falling to the floor, gasping for breath. Your nerves are on fire, your very flesh feels as if it's burning as you try to scream but nothing comes out.

"Please, please," a faint voice enters your ears as the pain subsides and you open your eyes, staring at the floor as your vision readjusts to the assault on your retinas, the stones beneath you swimming back into focus. You take a deep breath and fill your lungs, desperately reaching out in front of you, clutching the first thing you feel.

You look up and Ominis is kneeling in front of you, holding your arm and feeling his way to find where you are. You start breathing shakily, trying desperately to catch your breath and feel wet, hot tears pooling in your eyes. Ominis' hands are shaking as they glide up your arms, over your shoulders and brushing your neck, finding your face. He cups your face in his hands, pausing as the tears roll over his fingers, then wipes them away gently. His face is contorted in pain as he asks, "Are you okay? Please, be okay."

"I'm okay," you manage to stutter.

Sebastian seems to be in shock, standing dumbly by the now open door, watching the interaction between his friends.

"I'm so sorry," he groans, leaning back against the wall.

"It's fine, you did what you had to do," you say weakly, attempting to get up off of the floor.

Ominis clutches your arms again, firmly, standing with you and steadying you as you wobble on your aching legs and stumble into him. He doesn't loosen his grip, only pulls you closer, looping an arm around your back and holding your weight.

"I've got you," the soft voice says in your ear.

You rest your head against his shoulder, his hand finding its way to the nape of your neck and gently stroking your hair.

"I…there's a room here…," Sebastian says feebly before retreating behind the door.

Ominis doesn't let you go, the shaking in his hands subsided, now replaced with a tender and assuredly comforting touch. You look up at him, his hands still tangled in your hair, and watch his closely knitted brows relax.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," he says.

"I'd do it again, for you."

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 3)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Part 4⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Music --- Vivaldi - Winter (L'inverno) Quotes - Fyodor Dostoevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘ Warnings - heavy ANGST, mention of murder, non-con

Listened to it on repeat until i finished the chapter. Enjoy. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Calm, boring days, an unknown future, and an irregular sleep, the days pass and nothing new. The absence of knowledge is the presence of paranoia – she crumbles mentally. It's been happening for so long – it is all that is happening, over and over again. She is full of fear, leading to feeling grief. Her life, a tragedy, a land of devastation and destruction. All the bright, precious things of Bucky fade so fast – in the end, memories are all she keeps. It makes her tremble to think back, to remember how she thought their life would be. Her greatest regret – believing so much in their future. She used to build dreams about Bucky and now she can’t believe if she will ever do it again - she treads the icy path between Spring and Winter, slowly and cautiously, for fear of tripping and falling into the snow again, for fear of losing her dearest Spring. She feels the chill north winds coursing through her home, despite the locked and bolted doors…this is Winter, which nonetheless brings it's own delight – after Winter, Spring always comes next.

She spend so much time in my head and in her heart that she forgets to live in her body, not hearing someone entering.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

She blinks at that line of the book, her mind lingering once again to Bucky…but when is a monster not a monster – oh, when you are the reason, it has become mangled…she remembers when those eyes said love loudly, now these walls so quietly shift towards her as he leans on the door frame stealthy, still not alerting her. She puts the book aside, deciding to wash her dishes – her vast inner solitude poisoning her whole existence, there is no dignity in loneliness. The worst moment, when sitting alone at dinner, she has forgotten the ocean eyes, the depth of his laugh, it all had faded into into the past, where memories are silent.

Winter brushes his hands along the hardwood of the door, tentatively waiting for a sign that she had noticed him in the doorway. Three knocks follow on the wooden frame and her shoulders are already quavering, he once again craved a bullet with her name on it, burning Bucky down and in the ashes left behind – coming to burn her.

She glances at the door behind her as she holds her arms wrapped around herself before turning around to face him. Winter seems so human with his genuine smile, nodding slowly when his presence is finally acknowledged. Rage explodes inside, fire rushing over her skin. Winter’s face is flooding with color by then, and she finds that the sight makes her feel refreshingly nostalgic – the shades of Bucky somehow showing.

Dem light plays upon his face, revealing gleaming eyes, a mouth pulled into a grin. Stillness wraps her up in a cold embrace, a chill running down her body as he speaks.

„I warned you and you didn’t listen“

Winter shifts closer, caging her to the counter.

"Oh no…“ she whispers brokenly.

She brakes into a sob she could not contain, hands wrestled free from his grasp and worked their way to shield herself. He grips her hips, drawing her close, and roughly presses his mouth to the soft, swollen lips. Soldat longed for her for so long, dreamed of it as one would of an impossible journey to the moon, and now? How would he ever let her go?

The winters are becoming longer, very monotonous. Spring does come eventually, but it feels so short, looking back – it is not much more than a coupe of days.

He steps back, his fist unclenching, urging her to see – Walker’s work badge. All of her paranoia which played complicated possible outcomes - what an utterly incomprehensible thing has happened - without delay, Winter plucks every vibrating string in her mind by choosing to mock her.

„I warned you“

„You fucking monster what have you done?! I hate you so much I wish they never created you! I want you gone so much it hurts.“

His heart becomes a shriveled rose, poisoned with death and petals fall with every word from her mouth, sending him into a bottomless pit of anger.

„I will tell him, I will tell Bucky the tru-“

If once one has recognized the truth and seen it, you know that it is the truth and that there is no other and there cannot be, whether you are asleep or awake.

The melodious ringing sounds of Bucky’s dog tag chimes deep into her soul – as he holds them in front of her – as if a funeral bell is ringing, pealing for one a last farewell.

„Bucky is no longer“ dressed in all black, he is giving the eulogy „We can bury him together“ he says with the intend to drop them on the floor, but she catches them.

Up in her conscience, it's making her nauseous, she shifts backwards momentarily, but there is no where to run. Instinctively, Winter tightens his hold on her waist, though he neither pushes her away nor pulls her closer – just grounds her in place when she tries to slide to the floor.

„No…it can’t be, I don’t believe it“ comes her unenlightening, despondent response.

„He never picked up the phone that day. It was me, doll“

Now it all began to fall into place. A poor, beautiful, tragic fool - he had thrown her hope away on a moment's false illusion, and she was paying dearly for it. With her hope, her love, her soul.

„No, you are lying“ she whispers brokenly, her voice trembling. She blinks at him, her eyes enormous pools of misery with wetness clinging to the lashes and collecting in the tender indentation above her top lip.

„Stop crying “ he licks the hollow of her throat. "It is getting annoying“ a long, slow lick up her throat "…цветок“ (flower)

And if it frightens and torments her to think of Bucky and the simplicity and silence that accompanies him – she still believes in the illusion that he is there, it’s life-giving.

His left hand slides up gently to cup her chin as he leans in and kisses her once more, and with all her strength that she could find, she slaps him across the face, forcing it to turn to the side. He murmurs her name low. She whispers „no’s“. Winter presses himself close, giving a hollow bark of laughter as his angry gaze searches hers. He feels the trembling woman in his arms, her breathing shallow and uneven, clearly overcome with emotions.

„Тебе лучше, моя куколка?“ (Feeling better, my doll?)

„Don’t you dare call me that“

From the desert of Bucky’s abandoned love, he dares mock her pain. Winter stares her down, watching every reaction as his hands memorizes her curves, groaning, his fingers clawing at her back and quite possibly tearing her shirt.

Bucky dreams - the trees, stripped of all foliage, are white and bone-dry, twisted and curved like desiccated skeletons. Smoke drifts up from the scorched soil that crunches under his feet. In the distance, there’s a hill where, on the other side, y/n stands waving at him. He quickens his steps. She is calling for him, her voice distant, desperate.

The smoke beneath his feet thickens, he is choking as he he is trying to find her.

The fog begins to thin.

He is no longer walking on stone or dirt, but on show.

Winter of the world has come, and her body is lying on the ground, thin layer of snow covering it.

He wakes up, covered in sweat, looking around and everything is so unfamiliar, it’s feasting off his fragile and confused being.

– and there she lies – – not dressed in snow, but in white sheets.

In the deepening grasp of reality, Bucky has no choice but to recognize the trembling in his own heart. A trembling ocean underneath his eyelids. The veil of sadness and shame – causes him to scream as he holds her body, awaiting her warmth.

„Y/n? Baby…what-t, where, baby come on wake up“

„Baby, please wake up, Jesus what happened…I can’t remem-“

But love unexplained is clearer.

She is still clinging on something, still clinging on hope – the dog tags – it seems that she wanted to pour out all her heart into his heart in hopes of waking him up – she loved him, she shall love him always, loving him more than life itself. “Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” PART 4 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tag list @kaz11283 @montyrokz @queenashen @pandabearrrrrrr @depressed-gays-of-marvel @introverbatim @chocolatelovemusic @happinessinthebeing @goodkittyspost @venting402 @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @lovelywritinglady @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @msoldier

[vpyre]

77. “do you like it when i touch right here?” for copia and anyone of your choosing

Hehehe hell yeah >:3

From now on (I say as if I haven’t been doing it already lmao) I think I’ll just default to a reader insert when there isn’t a character specified, if that’s alright with y’all!

Copia sucks in a small gasp, lips parting ever so slightly, head falling back against the headboard with a quiet thunk as you slide your hands slowly and deliberately up the bare skin of his thighs. His cock twitches where it lays, stiff and already leaking, on his stomach. A longing whine quavers in his throat.

“Amore-“

You gently knead at the soft flesh of his inner thighs and he cuts himself off with a blissful little hum. The sound sends a pulse of warmth tingling through your veins to pool between your legs, thick and sweet like honey. He was too precious; it was going to be the death of you one day. He’d make that sound, look at you with those soft, lovestruck eyes, and you’d simply melt away into nothingness.

“Yes, il mio piccolo?” you croon. He blushes faintly at the endearment, looking away bashfully.

“That feels really nice,” he murmurs shyly, and his flush darkens. You can’t resist, not when he’s being this sweet. Gently, you slide a finger under his chin and guide his face to yours, capturing his lips in a kiss so slow, so tender it aches. He whimpers softly, and you open your mouth as if to taste it. He follows your lead, parting his lips eagerly to let your tongue slip inside. You lick leisurely into his mouth, tasting the sweetness of the peach wine from earlier that has been left, forgotten, on the nightstand. Your tongue rubs up against his, and he moans so wantonly, you know your underwear is done for.

Humming with pleasure, you pull away so you can tell him how good he’s being, but he lets out a pathetic whine and leans forward, chasing after you in a desperate attempt to keep your lips on his. You huff affectionately and put a hand on his chest, holding him down. He looks so lost and forlorn it’s almost comical, even as it tugs painfully at your heartstrings.

“Aww, baby! I’m sorry!” You cup his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheekbones. “I was just about to tell you how lovely you are. You were doing so well, I wouldn’t punish you for that,” you reassure him. He nods, looking up at you with wide eyes brimming with devotion. Fucking hell. Those eyes spark something in you, a surge of heat that ignites a wild hunger.

You yank him into another kiss, this one ravenous and insistent. Licking into his mouth with fervor, your tongue curls over his teeth and tangles with his tongue. Your muffled groans mingle with his needy whimpers and you feel his hands scrabble frantically at your back. Twining your fingers in his hair, you reach your other hand down to wrap around his cock. He jerks and keens into your mouth, all high-pitched and squeaky, and you have to pull back to catch the breath he just stole from you with that perfect little noise.

“Do you like it when I touch right here, sweet thing?” you pant, rubbing him torturously slow, drawing out a breathy moan from his kiss-red lips.

“Y- yes, tesoro,” he gasps. “Fuck-”

He bucks his hips, and you can tell he’s not gonna last long. Your hand is already slick with his pre and he’s red in the face, utterly ruined with just a few strokes. God, he’s pathetic. And so fucking cute.

“Oh, my sweet boy. You’re so fucking pretty. So good for me. So fucking good,” you groan, pumping your fist up and down as he squirms and thrusts desperately into your hand; short, sharp cries filling the air. His hips jerk and stutter and jolt; his brows furrow, his eyes scrunch shut, his hands fist in the sheets. His movements are erratic and frenzied, his moans and gasps and cries are getting louder and louder and-

A wail bursts from his throat and you watch, breathless, as thick, white ribbons of spend paint his stomach. You slow, but keep stroking until his euphoric little “ah!”s fade to quiet sighs of pleasure and relief and he relaxes, eyes fluttering shut, going boneless from exertion and satisfaction.

You sit there while he recovers for a second, drinking in the sight of him like he’s water in the desert. He’s gorgeous like this, worn out and covered in his own release, and you wish you could stay here, in this moment, for the rest of time. Just looking. Just adoring.

He blinks lethargically at you, probably wondering why you’re so quiet. But when he sees how you’re looking at him, his eyes soften and he smiles that achingly beautiful smile. The one that only you get to see. The one that tells you more than any words ever could. He reaches for you, and you scoop him into your arms and hold him close, pressing gentle kisses to the top of his head.

[the-dixon-effect]

centre of the universe ✧.*

a/n: 4 months later i'm back, so sorry guys. i got a little caught up. been missing daryl most of all too. i'm feeling a little rusty and tired but here's a cute little thing ig!

requested by: @pandarooooo-blog find the request here :)

summary: having married Negan in order to rescue Daryl from the Sanctuary, you found yourself, 9 months later, raising a kid of your own. the baby being Negan's, you hadn't been particularly enthusiastic to embrace the situation.

words: 1.2k

era: season 8-9, post-saviours

Sitting around Rick and Michonne's dining table embraced by the warm glow of the sky late into summer - what felt like a fever dream at it's best. The past year had left you bruised, emotionally and physically, Hell, you hadn't caught break since the world went to shit. But today, the air was pregnant with sweetness and laughter as you bathed in the company of your family. You stood up from the table once the feast was presumed finished. Your daughter giggled softly, cradled in your arms - her innocence a trait that you only mirrored while everybody fought for her attention.

Rosita imitated her best baby-voice, babbling some nonsensical rhetoric about her being "the cutest" and the "sweetest", while Rick reminisced about the days back on the road with Judith years ago. Noticing this, you thanked him sincerely, "You built this Rick, for Judith, for her," you gestured down to the precious being in your arms. "For all of us." The atmosphere was silent despite the extent of nods and smiles in agreement - the only sound was the sweet laughter of your darling girl.

Daryl, who had been standing by your side, broke the silence "She looks jus' like her mama," he spoke proudly, as though there were a part of him somewhere that wished he was the father; a notion that only remained at the forefront of Daryl's mind when he saw your sweet figure.

"Right?" you agreed, pursuing Daryl's gaze aside from the rest of group. Daryl, as loyal as ever, had stuck by your side during the pregnancy and made sure you were never hungry, uncomfortable, God forbid you were ever unsafe inside the walls. For that you were grateful. He remained your 'best friend', though, and a part of you needed him to know that you wanted him in other ways.

Tears came streaming down your face faster than you could register the situation. Two weeks ago, you kneeled before Negan and the Saviours in the depths of the night. A week later, you were married to Negan, letting him use you to his will only to set Daryl free from the cage they had him locked in. And sure, if that wasn't traumatic enough, this morning you discovered you were pregnant. With Negan's kid.

You were scared, hurt, resentful, but most of all in shock. The overwhelming emotions contained you thoroughly inside your house, and you had not been seen by anyone all day. When a knock arose at your bedroom door, you sprang to your feet and swiftly wiped away the tears that painted your face an unforgiving shade of pink.

"Who is it?" you sobbed, trying to hide your quavering, pitiful tone beneath the question.

"'S jus' me," It was Daryl. You could tell from the husky, gravelly voice behind the door. He sounded concerned. Composing yourself, you took one last look around the messy room before slowly clutching the cold doorknob and twisting it open. His figure towered over you, not threatening - the kind you had been used to - but barricading you from any dangers that stood between him and the rest of the world.

Daryl stood before you, not knowing what to say or do, searching for some trace of an answer in the absent, glassy expanse of your eyes. Absent, there were indeed, for each moment your body stood inside the walls of Alexandria, your mind was back there, in that 'Sanctuary'.

Another wave of tears came down your face before your clouded mind could form a coherent expression.

"Hey, hey, I got ya'," he soothed, drawing your frame into a tight hug, sheltered from anyone's presence, even in your own mind Negan's shadow seemed to dissipate into the encompassing swell of his chest. At least Daryl's stature provided you some respite; it was healing, momentarily. That was until he pulled way, wishing to understand, perhaps, why you were so upset. "Come on, let's siddown'-"

"I'm pregnant, Daryl, I don't know- I don't know what to.." you sobbed, returning to the embrace in an attempt to suppress the rhythmic pound that lay waste to your mind. Daryl, in his own state of shock, could do nothing but hold you. In truth, you did not wish for him to do anything else. Slowly, he walked you to your bedside, his touch not once faltering. With strong arms now safely caging you into his figure, you lay your head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Daryl..." you sighed, closing your eyes in search for some calm.

"Hey, no. You don't ever gotta say sorry, not to me," he gravelled, in that sweet, low voice of his. As he spoke into the crown of your head, you felt his words reverberate somewhere deep inside, moreso than you heard them. He was so tender with you.

"I'm scared," you began. You were embarassed to appear in this manner in front of Daryl. You didn't want to speak. Though you thought you owed him some expression of how you were feeling. "I hate him so much, y'know. I know you know. I hate him, for what he did to you. And me. I just thought," you weeped uncontrollably into Daryl's shoulder, at the notion that Negan - that evil man - would never escape your world. Daryl tried to console you, lifting your head up inches away from his own, though, he too, was flooded with memories and resentment indistinguishable from your own.

"What if my baby turns out like him?" you asked, in rhetoric. Lord knows, what kind of answer you expected.

"Shh.. Dun' think like that," he drawled, laying a gentle kiss on your forehead. The two of you had never been this close before.

"Yer' kid is gonna be strong, and kind, and beautiful.." he trailed off, cursing him damn mouth for running away from his brain. "Just like their momma."

"Daryl?" you spoke, softly, painting a number of maternal images at the forefront of his mind.

"Yeah?" he replied. Not once did he avert his gaze from your tear-stricken face.

"Will you stay.. with me? I'm scared... I don't wanna do this alone,"

"Of course, darlin'." From that moment on, Daryl never left your side.

The warm Virginian sun dipped below the walls of your home in the distance, evening winds stirred, gently, hardly noticeable. You cradled your beautiful baby girl in your arms, your mind empty of all negative thoughts. Just for a little while, everything was perfect. It seemed almost strange, that you were now happier than ever in this post-apocalyptic world.

Daryl strolled up to the gazebo where you perched with your daughter. The setting sun lit up your face like you were the centre of the universe. The centre of his universe, perhaps. It was hypnotic, seeing you in this way, so loving and maternal, more beautiful than ever.

"Hey," you smiled, watching the archer approach cautiously. He was always like this - acting as though his mere presence was a disturbance. You thought quite the opposite. "You can sit down Daryl, you won't wake her," you said sweetly. He simply stood there, an arm leaning on the gazebo fence, smiling down at you. So you stared right back up at him, wondering if he would take you up on your offer.

"I love ya', Y/N,"

"I know. C'mere,"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Outside the Lines 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsessive compulsive behaviour, kidnapping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has her routine and her fellow patient gets in the way of those.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, (lumberjack AU)

Note: I'm feeling it so why not.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Steve takes you downstairs. You marvel at the large kitchen, finished with dark walnut and brass. Bucky sits, dragging his fingertips over the island, leaning as he stares grimly at the wall. His eyes drift to you slowly and you flinch, cowering and shifting to hide partly behind Steve.

“She calm down?” He asks brusquely as he taps his metal fingers on the wood.

“Buck, she just needed to settle in, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Steve reaches back blindly and grabs your arm, drawing you forward, “she’s going to apologise.”

You look at him. You can’t hide your surprise at his declaration. Apologise. For what? They lied to you. How could you know any better? But you suppose you should’ve listened. You nod and Steve lets you go.

You face Bucky and step closer, folding one hand over the other.

“Bucky,” you begin.

“Sweetheart,” Steve hovers behind you, “you call him sergeant.”

Your lips part and you look down at your feet. You place them within the lines of the hardwood and count to three. You’d been standing right on the lines. That's bad luck!

You look up again and bring your hands over your chest.

“Sergeant,” you voice quavers and you swallow to steady it, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But I know now and I’ll be good because I know you’re just trying to help me.” Your eyes well as you remember his angry voice, “I’m real sorry about throwing the tea at you. I was only afraid.” You touch your cheeks and sway back and forth, “I’m not a mean person.”

His blue eyes are icy and his jaw set. He arches a brow and peeks at Steve. He raises his chin and lets his expression soften as he turns to you fully. He tilts his head as he grips his hip.

“Doll,” he says softly, “I forgive you. But I won’t a second time. Got it?”

“Yes,” you pout.

“We talked,” Steve says, “she understands now.”

“Ah,” Bucky hums, “good.”

You nod and look from one to the other. Steve touches the small of your back as he steps up beside you. You slouch and shy away from him.

“Why don’t you show the sergeant how sorry you are and make him a nice breakfast?” Steve suggests, “you know what they say about men.”

You shake your head. Who is they and what do they say?

“The way to his heart is through his stomach,” Steve chuckles. 

“Oh,” you bat your lashes, “so… um, what should I make?”

“Coffee,” Bucky grumbles as he rubs his eyes.

“There’s bacon and eggs in the fridge, can you cook that?”

“Yes! Yes, I can cook,” you proclaim, “I know how.”

“Of course, honey,” Steve drags his fingertips up your arm, “you can do so much. I know you can. A lot more than you think. And we just want to help you learn how to do more.”

You don’t want to seem ungrateful. It’s only confusing. You did overreact. You didn’t even let them explain. It’s no wonder they got a bit pushy.

“Thank you,” you chirp, “you’re so nice.” You look at his hand as he caresses above your elbow, “and this is a very nice house. I’ve never been to a cabin before. It’s so nice you would bring me here.”

“Ha, yeah, you know, me and Bucky built it,” Steve explains.

“You did?” You round your eyes and take another look around. You can’t imagine all that work. “Wow!”

"Coffee," Bucky grits as he leans his chin in his hand.

"Oh, yes," you twiddle your fingers and flutter around, watching your feet as you step between the trim of the hardwood slats of the floor, "I can make... coffee. I don't drink it you know, just tea. Coffee makes me... hyper!"

You spin cluelessly. Not knowing where to begin. You have no idea where everything is. There are no labels like your apartment. Every shelf, every cupboard has the precise contents listed on the outside, just like you like. So everything is in order. You hate chaos.

Bucky grumbles and Steve lets out a soft breath, "sweetheart, one step at a time," he girds.

Steve comes forward as you step back to watch him open a cupboard. He pulls down a bag of coffee, burlap with print stamped across it. The smell of its contents seep into your nose. Comforting even if its too bitter for your taste.

"Oh, thanks," you step forward carefully and hug the bag with your hands.

"Grinder is here," he points, "and the press."

You look between both and try to hide your confusion. Oh. You don't know how to do all that. You chew your lip and loosen the drawstring at the top of the bag. You stare inside tenuously. 

He opens a drawer and takes out a metal measuring cup. He offers it to you.

"One scoop."

You take it and scoop out the beans. Then you just stand there with it. You look at him and cringe.

"In the grinder," he directs gently as he pulls forward the little square machine and pops the top.

You pour the beans inside, the rattle of them making a small rhythm that carries in your head. You bop your head, trying to follow it as your nerves get the better of you. You can't help but make up little nonsensical songs in your head when you feel so lost.

He shuts the lid and steps back.

"Press the button."

You obey and press the button. There's a short whir then the machine quiets again.

He stifles a laugh, "hold it down."

You push and keep your finger jammed. You watch the blade turn the beans to powder and he gestures for you to stop. He slides over the press and pulls a spoon out of the open drawer. You reach over to shut it without thinking. He hesitates but says nothing about it.

"So, six table spoons. Open it up."

You try to flip the top of the machine open like he did but it won't budge. You grab it firmly and try to force it open. He moves forward. 

"You gotta hit the switch--"

Suddenly the compartment detaches from the rest of the machine and the lid opens, dusting you and the floor with coffee grinds. You stand in stunned silence as a growl rolls up Bucky's throat.

"Steve, just make the coffee, I'm dying here."

"I'm sorry," you push your lip out, "I made a mess."

You look around at the smatter of grinds all around you and littered across your dress. You shake it off and shiver. You glance between the men.

"I'm very sorry," you apologise again, "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. Don't be mad."

"It's fine, sweetheart," Steve reaches to touch your shoulder and you flinch, "get the broom out of the closet. Clean it up."

"Uh, uh, alright," you shake off the front of your dress before turning on your heel.

You go to the closet, the weight of Bucky's gaze following you. You open the door and find a broom, taking it out with the dustpan. You shut it and look past it to the doorway that gives a peak of another; a door with windows that look out on a leafy yard.

"Doll," Bucky warns from behind you.

"Sorry, was just looking," you spin and nearly trip over the bristles.

"Can't go outside until we can trust you," he adds.

"You don't trust me," you stand dumbly with the broom and pan. "Why not?"

He gives you a look. Your lips form an O. Yeah, the tea. Fair.

"Sorry," you repeat.

You set to sweeping up the grinds and Steve shows you where the bin is. Then he goes about making the coffee himself as you watch. He peeks over and smiles.

"Bacon and eggs are in the fridge."

You nod and go to the large fridge, a wooden front that makes it blend in with the rest of the decor. You open it and find the eggs easily but can't figure which paper packet is bacon. Not until you see the scribble sharpy scrawled on the other side.

You go back to the counter and peer around. Just as clueless as ever. Steve directs you to the pots and pans and you take out what you need. He tells you to put the kettle on and you stop to do that as he stands back and watches you. It suddenly feels like a test.

You struggle to catch the gas burner, making yourself dizzy as the flame doesn't light. 

"She's gonna burn this place down," Bucky snarls.

"Relax," Steve steps forward and gets the burner going for you. "There."

"She can't do anything on her own."

Steve retreats and points at Bucky. You don't look back as he approaches the other man and you hear the scratch of a whisper between them. You put the kettle on the lit burner, then lay the skillet on another. You focus and repeat what Steve did, managing to light the second.

"I did it!"

Bucky sighs as Steve praises you, "good girl."

You could smile. You're good. You can do things.

You turn on the oven, that's easier. You lay out bacon on a sheet and wait for it to preheat as you add oil to the pan. You search the cupboard and find a bowl to mix the eggs. You examine the spice rack, taking your pick of the many containers.

You shake your head and seal your lips as you have to smell them to see which is which. Steve hums before he speaks.

"What's wrong?"

You shrug, "nothing..."

He arches his brow and lifts his chin slightly. You clutch the oregano and gulp.

"Captain," you clear your throat, "in my apartment, I label stuff so I know. I can't find anything without the labels."

"Labels?" He repeats thoughtfully.

"Use your head. Remember," Bucky scoffs and receives a nudge from Steve.

"Labels, how about we make that your first project. Bucky can go in to town and get you a nice label maker of your own," Steve looks at his companion, "won't you?"

Bucky scowls, "if I don't get coffee soon, I'm not doing shit."

You widen your eyes and cover your mouth. Steve tuts, "Buck, watch your mouth."

"She's an adult, she can handle it."

"You're an adult too so stop being a brat," Steve warns, "sweetheart, keep going. I'll get his coffee."

He nears and pulls down a mug from yet another cupboard. He fills it and holds it up, "the sergeant takes his black, I don't mind a bit of cream. Okay?"

"Black," you nod at Bucky, "cream," you look back at Steve, "I'll try to remember."

"I know," he winks before he walks away.

He hands over the mug to Bucky and comes back to pour his own but you're there first. You put down the oregano and reach up to grab a red mug. You shut the cupboard and fill it, scurrying around Steve to grab the cream from the fridge. You add a little and offer him the cup. A grin slowly spread across his face.

"You're so sweet, thank you," he takes it, "you're a good learner, you know that?"

"I am?" You smile.

"Very smart girl," he raises the cup, blowing across it before taking a sip, "perfect. You got it just right."

You clap your hands together proudly, "see," you face Bucky, "I can do it, sergeant."

He squints at you over his own steaming mug and says nothing as he drinks. His blue eyes pierce you coldly. Your face falls and you tuck your chin down, turning back to take the oregano and you go back to the bowl of eggs.

You can do this. You're not going to burn the eggs. Or the bacon. 

"Do you have a timer?" You ask. That's the only way you ever get anything done but you don't have your phone anymore, which means all your alarms are useless.

"Yep," Steve grabs a small apple shaped timer from the corner of the counter and places it by the stove, "just twist."

"Thank you, Captain," you take it and look at the numbers.

He leans in and lowers his voice, "he'll come around. You'll show him, I know you will, sweetheart."

You bite down your lip and look at him. His eyes fall to your mouth as it curves, just a little, your cheeks burning.

"I'm trying," you eke out.

"I know," he reaches to rub your arm, dragging his hand up around your shoulder and playing with the sleeve of your dress, "did I tell you how nice you look?"

"Thank you," you preen.

"Doesn't she look nice, Bucky?" He steps back and crosses to the island where Bucky nurses his cup.

"Not bad," Bucky says, not quite a compliment but not as bad as you expect.

You'll just have to do better. Put all those tools that Dr. Makira gave you to work.

[sreyaya]

HELL YWAH BIRTHDAY SEGGS W NAIBU 😭

Birthday Soiree

Naib Subedar x F!Reader NSFW

Content Warning: 0.5K words, Dom!Reader, Oral (M!receiving), no sex just oral, overstim, MDNI

(A/n: short fic on this one! Sorry for the no sex part! i'm still trying to improve writing smut scenes sob sob)

(P.S.S: this was for Naibu birthday but i forgot to post it, it was already done too ;-;) smut under the cut!

Birthdays are meant to be special right?

"It's your birthday, Subedar. Let me treat you instead," you purred, pushing his broad shoulders back until his frame was pressed against the wall. Straddling him, you leaned in to return the kiss he had given to you much earlier on his party, a brief and intimate touch between the wet caverns, before your attention shifted downward to his torn black trousers.

Naib groaned appreciatively, his breath catching as you began to lavish and serenade him with your little gift. It didn't take long before you were sloppily groaning around his throbbing length, your hands deftly working the part of him that couldn't fit into your mouth. His breath hitched with every deep plunge towards your insides as the mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum created a slick warmth under your tongue.

He was never silent, the exquisite sensation of your warm mouth drawing out sweet, ragged breaths and soft noises from him. Naib's gentle hands began to grasp your head more firmly as the pleasure became almost unbearable. His cock, enveloped with saliva, slid in and out of your lips. Each movement sending quavers of pleasure throughout his body and down his spine.

As the intensity built and climax getting closer, Naib couldn't resist bucking his hips forward, thrusting into your eager mouth while holding a fistful of your hair. The climax approached swiftly, and with a final thrust, he released himself deep inside you. Strings of his essence coated your throat whilst the excess trickled down the corners of your mouth as you swallowed every remaining drop.

Naib's breathing was left heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he came down from his high. His face looks charming as always with baby hair strands clinging desperately on his skin. The thought of leaving him off to rest after a long day crossed your mind for a while, feeling slightly awful due to how your sexual distress had taken the better of you, but alas, before anything, another idea sparked inside you. Without any warnings, you took him whole once again, plunging deep inside your throat, feeling his rock-solid length kissing the back of your neck.

With Naib being inside you, you decided to stay for a little while longer, not moving your jaw whatsoever. The tip of your tongue playing with the base of his cock, tracing his prominent veins every so often whilst gulping down his tip. The overwhelmed mercenary could do nothing but rigorously whimper, knowing he wanted to continue the everlasting pleasure with you even if it feels like it was too submerging for him to handle. Everything is always better with you afterall～

Minutes passed by as Naib feel his high coming again, feeling a little fleety the second round, now moving your jaw much more languidly as his perfectly pink tip pecked you every thrust. Naib adored this sight of you, your hair slightly tucked behind your ears as a few falls out to the front, with one hand holding them back and the other wrapping nicely on him. The way his cock disappears inside your pretty mouth turns him on exceptionally as you struggle with his girth even on the second round. With one final cloudy imagination of you, he released the waves of white inside you once more. Knowing how good of a girl you are, you’d swallow everything for him, right?

[marenwithanm]

i just wanted to say i love quavers design!

Hey thanks so much! Have a doodle that turned into a whole drawing lol

Shaking souls from her shoes