#i worked SO long on this my god…anyway enjoy!
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Breakfast
Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT
Locked in a bathroom stall with a hungry vampire was not how you planned to spent your time hiding from a herd. Inspired by a post by @norman-fucking-reedus
The herd came out of nowhere, giving you no other option but to be yanked into the tiny toilet stall of the abandoned restaurant.
Bless it for at least having a seat cover so you could sit down while you waited.
Daryl was breathing heavy below you, clearly at his limits after the morning's hunt failed too thanks to possibly the same walkers ruining your camping spot for the day.
You also thanked the overgrown greenery that covered most of the milky glass above you, keeping the sun away from you to a point where it would't hurt Daryl.
"Hey, you gotta eat." You patted his cheek and held out your wrist to his mouth. "It'll be fine, I can't go out and hunt for you now."
He went rigid and shoved you off him, against the stall door. It was as far as you could go seeing your situation. "No humans. Ya know wha' happened. Ya saw me."
You huffed and stuffed your hands into your pockets. "So you killed that guy, we all hated him anyways. He was harrasing you." Taking your hands out of your pockets again, you had materialized one of your tiny knives and flipped it open. "I'm not scared. And you love me too much to kill me." With a wide smile you sat back in his lap again. "Come on, you need the energy. I have my food in my bag, I'll be okay."
It was clear he didn't want to, but he knew it was his only choice if he wanted to make it out alive. Neither of you had any idea how long the herd was gonna stick around and while you could survive two days on your rations, Daryl would be unconcious by nightfall if he didn't feed.
"Yer insane, ya know tha, right?" He shook his head but still braced himself for what he was about to do.
You had straddled him in the most comfortable position you could get in and ran your fingers through his hair to calm him, ever so slowly pressing his face closer to your neck. You were pressed up against each other with no change to get away now, and with a last deep breath you felt Daryl's lips against your skin. He kissed a few times before the harsh sting of his fangs made you tense up. A soft gasp and a squeeze of the strands of hair you held onto went on deaf ears as he busied himself feeding off you.
And god, it felt.. good? It stung at first, but the gentle sucking now went straight down to your core.
But it was clear you weren't the only one enjoying it more than you though, feeling Daryl grow hard in his jeans underneath you.
While you kept one hand in his hair to yank if he got too far, you lowered the other one down to his pants and worked on getting him out of them. He must hurt so bad..
You rolled your hips in trial and earned a moan so deep you didn't think he had it in him. He was normally so quiet.
You pulled his head back but kept yourself attached, moving to shove off one sneaker. With your pants undone and off one leg you sat back down on his lap fully bare before going back to working on his pants, freeing him and continueing to rub against him. "Do I taste that good, baby?"
"Mhmmm.." A rut of his hips and a positive moan answered for you, wasting no more time and lining him up with your entrance and letting him push all the way in, a soft rut with each suck on your neck. You tried your best to keep your moans as quiet as possible but it was difficult with how good it all felt.
Once he was all the way inside he finally took his mouth off you with a deep intake of air. "Fuck, yer even crazier than I thought.." The punctures still bled, slowly trickling down the neckline of your shirt before they were being lapped up in rythm with Daryl's thrusts that kept picking up the pace.
You planned to ride him slowly while he fed but he was holding you still and fucking up into you like he was possessed.
With just one hand he kept your hips in place while the other had your body pressed against him, giving him the perfect angle to keep licking and sucking at your neck while he mumbled praises against your skin.
"D.. Daryl please, fuck, my legs.." You weren't made for bathroom stall sex and especially not while being drained by a very blood drunk vampire.
You held no power against him, every tug to move him was futile. You had to power through the feeling of your legs becoming like jello and his body rubbing against your clit with every thrust. His grunts were getting more frantic. Wet, openmouthed kisses trailed all the way around your neck before he sucked hard on the puncture wounds and you felt the blood flow out in a gush.
He didn't swallow, instead seal his lips and move his hand up to pull at the back of your head and shove his mouth against yours. As his tongue forced its way into your mouth a good amount of blood followed, running out the corners of your mouth and making a mess all over yourselves. His kisses were never very coordinated but this was messy, grunts and moans, open mouthed and all teeth and tongue as you both chased your highs. Your fingers tugging his hair and rubbing your clit between your bodies.
Clenching around him, so close to your climax you hastened your touches and gathered yourself to meet his thrusts halfway to intensify the feeling.
You finished with a harsh bite on Daryl's tongue to muffle your sounds and pulled him right over the edge with you.
He let go of your hip then and you slumped against him, groaning in protest as he licked at the bitemarks on your neck. "Daryl, no.. please.." You barely mamaged to raise your hand to push at him, but he ensured you it was needed. "Helps healin'. Jus' relax." You felt his smile against your skin and let yourself breathe.
"So.." You leaned back a bit to look him in the eyes. "Changed your mind about humans?" Your sneaky smile had him let out a breathy laugh.
"Ya know wha? I'll keep ya with me fer emergencies." He licked his lips, cleaning some blood off them as you weakly smacked his arm and giggled.
Damn. You really had to get cleaned up and eat something..
#sometimes I write#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon fanfiction#twd daryl#twd daryl x reader#twd x reader#twd smut#twd au#vampire#vampires
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Filthy Rich
Spencer Reid x Fem! reader PT.1
✧ Synopsis;; Spencer Reid was filthy rich, for he was royalty. Handsome, charming and a gentleman, a dream dressed in pure silk for any kind of woman. But not you.
✧ y/n is a mere slave of a nobel family who just turned 22. On the night of the prince’s royal ball she is dragged against her will to this dance just to be used as a coat rack for the purses and coats of the family ladies, who, of course, treat her like absolute sh’t, to the point where they could agreed to hand her over for a generous amount of gold.
“Just name your price, sweetheart.”
“Screw you, my prince.”
Just how lucky you were for had caught the
prince’ s attention!
< enemies to lovers 3
17th century royalty! inspired by bridgerton!
CW;; this series might include 18+ content (details will be given at the start of each new part uploaded) MINORS DNI AND SKIP!!!
WARNINGS PART ONE: mention of blood, abuse, cursing and slave trafficking.
Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.
WORD COUNT;; 2k!
Her faced seemed to tell everything: she hated it.
She hated everything. From the music, to the little stupid shoes that clacked against the floor. The floral scent, the wine, the giggles… She hated the ton*. Every single one of them,
Everything. It was a goddamn nightmare.
“y/n! You are letting my coat slip! Do i have to tell you how much it costs?! If you dare let it touch the floor I’ll take the money out of your poor allowance to pay for a new one!” one of the misses glared at you, hitting you in the face with her closed paper fan, its gemstones leaving marks on you cheek.
“We might as well do it anyways, since her filthy hands have touched them already!” her sister laughed, grabbing your face in between her gloved fingers and digging her nails in your skin. “Don’t you think so, y/n? What? Cat got you tongue?” they giggled.
“Children, children!” the woman of the house hushed them with a sweet smile. “You shall never touch her!” she said, taking of the gloves out of her daughters hands to give her a new pair, with a sweet smile telling one of the servants of the castle to burn them. “God knows what she might infect us with!” she laughed, her offsprings following her.
God, you hated her. Her and her stupid daughters. With their stupid dresses and stupid painted faces.
You glared at them, your grip tightening around their belongings, holding your stare and your head up even when the woman stared back at you, her face scrunching in disgust and anger.
“Who do you think you are staring at?!?!” she suddenly yelled, catching the attention of those who enjoyed drinks and company around her, not waiting a mere second to rise her hand and slap you to ‘show you your place’. You took the hits, the metallic flavor of blood filling your mouth due to the continues smacks and hits with the back of her fan. “You filthy ungrateful bitch, you dare stare at us, who give you food and a bed?! I should’ve let you died out in the cold, in the dirt, where you belong to!” you gritted your teeth, your eyes down to the floor as your free hand made its way to your bottom lip, where you felt the skin split, the crimson of fresh blood tinting your frail skin.
“Fucking fussock*.” you cursed her under your breath, loud enough for her to perfectly hear you.
“What did you say?!” her free hand gripped your long and matted locks, making you look into her enraged eyes, her other hand rising up to hit you once again.
Your eyes closed as you expected a new slap, which surprisingly enough never came. The sound of multiple gasps filled your ears and when you opened up your eyes once again, your stomach sank at the sight of…
“Your highness!” everyone suddenly diverted their eyes to the floor, including you, your mistress and her daughters bowed in his presence, the wrist of the first of them all gracefully and softly held by the prince’s, who let her go with a kind smile.
“Is everything alright?” his voice tested the waters, his tone low and soft as the silk he dressed in, his hands jeweled in golden rings joining and intertwining in an elegance you never had witnessed.
“Yes, your highness.” the woman stuttered, showing a nervous smile. “Our slave just seemed to…, misbehave, your highness.” your eyes travelled trough his tall and magnificent demeanor. His fern green suit matched perfectly with the caramel of his skin and his brown and perfectly combed curls.
Your eyes quickly darted always as he had caught you staring once he had turned to you. He fought the lopsided smirk that urged to grow in his lips, stepping closer to where you stood.
He took a glance at the ragged clothes that hid your bruised and malnourished body, probably due to the family’s treatment under your care, your matted hair, cut up hands…
His warm touch spread on your skin as he took your chin in between his thumb and index finger, softly trying to rise your head up, but you denied him, in a harsh turn of head freeing yourself from his touch before giving him a glare.
A new wave of gasps filed the air as you stared right into his eyes, him holding your glare.
You didn’t care if he was a noble or pure royalty. Those ‘pure blood’ were all the goddamn same. With their leather shoes and gold jewelry, fancy words and silk dresses and suits. Their appearance was only a pretty facade that hid the ugliness of their insides.
You hated all of them. Might as well just get your head off as soon as possible.
“You slave! How is it ye dare to stare at the prince, soon king?!” a brunette and tall man talked, you recognized him as the pince’s right hand, but only with a wave of this hand, he stood silent beside the prince.
“Huh…” the smile he had been trying to fight off finally took place on his gracefully sculpted face and full rosy lips. “Interesting.” once again he took a soft grasp to your face, this time not letting you go even if you fought him off. His eyes took everything your face offered him, from your perfect nose to you long eyelashes and your beautiful fierce eyes, which stared at him with pure hatred and anger. “How much?” he suddenly asked, still not drifting his eyes away from you.
The woman stood frozen in place, just like her daughters.
“What does your highness mean with…-”
“How much would you want for her?” he cut her off, the deadly silent that fell on the salon almost giving you chills.
What was he saying?
“Your highness, I can’t…” she was short of breath and words. “I surely doubt thee would want her under your care, she…”
“I don’t care about any of it. Name a price.” everyone was shocked by the situation. Buying and selling slaves was something quite common, that’s how your current ‘family’ have got you, but this…
The prince? Has he gone nuts?
“Your highness, I don’t think…” the prince’s counselor stepped in, shutting up once again as soon as he gave him a glance.
“50 gold coins.” the woman suddenly blurted out, everyone’s jaws dropping at the audacity of the woman and such large figure.
“Mother!” her offsprings whispered-yelled. Not believing her words.
50 gold coins?!
You scoffed, smirking at such nonsense, not noticing the staring of the prince due to your reaction.
She wished you were worth that much. He would never…
“Make it 150.” he closed the deal.
“Your highness!” the counselor exclaimed, completely alarmed.
“I don’t wanna hear it, Gideon.” he hushed the man with his soft hazel eyes.
You watched as the woman who once abused you and starved you for days fainted due to the prince’s words and his daughters kneeling down to help her followed by some of the nearby guests, fanning her pale sleeping face.
You too felt like fainting.
“Hey, eyes on me, sweetheart.” the prince caught your attention once again, when your eyes met a smile growing on his lips. “All you need to do from now on keep your eyes on me.”
“Get off of me!” you screamed at the servants that tried and strip you out of your clothes, pushing their hands away. “I said stop!”
“Miss, they’re orders from your highness.” one of them spoke, her blue eyes soft on you. “He wanted us to help you bathe and and get rid of your dirty clothes.” she explained.
“I don’t care about what he said.” you scoffed. “If he wanted me undressed so fast why isn’t he the one taking my clothes off?” they all gasped at your words and no respect to the prince.
You didn’t care though, they were all the same anyways. Always reaks* that just wanted to have women swoon at their feet. Maybe that’s why he had bought you, just to use you when his cock got cold.
Suddenly, the door on your back opened, the heads of the servants quickly lowering as your eyes met the prince’s.
“Oh, fantastic…” you muttered. Just what you needed at the moment.
“You heard her, ladies. You are all dismissed.” he smiled at every and each one of them, bowing and moving aside with a swing of his arm on the door to let them out, all of them bowing and giggling.
And weren’t you just right?
“Great. And what do I have the honor of your highness’ presence for?” you sarcastically inquired him once he had closed the door behind his back, noticing…, ‘Gideon’ outside. “Got too excited due your new acquisition to just wait?” you mocked him.
“I heard you were putting up a fight.” he smiled, ignoring your words whilst looking at you up and down. “Is there something not to your liking, perhaps?”
“‘Not to my liking’?” you scoffed. “I can’t believe you.” you shook your head, grasping at your locks as you stared at him in disbelief. “How about this whole goddamn situation? I mean, look at this!” you pointed out everything that surrounded you, the whole bathroom with a gigantic bathtub of quartz, marble floors and pillars… “A few hours ago I was being used as a coat hanger in your ball and now I’m in a bathroom with the prince, who, surprisingly enough, bought me for 150 golden coins god knows why?!” you exclaimed.
He stared at you with a funny look in his eyes. His back against the door as his eyebrows raised at you.
“What.” you spit out, a glare in your eyes.
“Nothing, is just that…” he stepped closer to you, his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t seem to…, respect me.” he frowned, his voice low. “Not like all of them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, your highness, for not being another dog licking your leather boots.” you bowed, more of his steps growing closer to you until his thumb took your chin, rising your head up so you could meet his eyes, his face stood serious for a couple of seconds, before a downside smirk grew on his factions. “Why haven’t you cut my head off yet?” you inquired him, not really understanding his behavior. By the way you treated him, any other prince would have already gotten you to the guillotine.
“Why shall I?” he answered with another question, his thumb caressing the wound on your bottom lip, the still fresh blood that stood on it staining his thumb as you hissed in pain, getting away.
You stared at him in confusion.
Yeah. He was absolutely nuts.
“The water will go cold if you don’t get in soon.” he said, drifting off the matter while whipping off your blood from his thumb with his handkerchief. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off those ragged clothes?”
“This is the only dress I’ve had, sir.” you said, his eyes meeting yours.
“What’s your favorite color?” you frowned at his sudden question, which made absolutely no sense. He made no sense. “Crimson, like the purest blood? The forest’s green? The ocean’s blue, perhaps?”
“I’ve never seen the forest nor the ocean, sir. I’ve never left the capital. Though I find the sky’s blue on spring pretty wonderful, not sure it does justice to the ocean’s.”
“It doesn’t.” he said, sitting in the edge of the bathtub, his fingers taunting the warm water. “The ocean is cold, and fierce…, untamable. But it can also be warm, and calm, and soft.” he tried to explain, and from your point of view it didn’t make sense.
It didn’t make sense but you found it…
“It must be beautiful.” you said, him flashing you a soft smile before nodding.
“It is.” he got up clapping his hands together before looking back at you. “Well then, you should really hurry up, the water is perfect.”
“I already told thee, this dress is the only-“
“You won’t need it anymore.” he cut you off.
“And why is that?” you inquired, his steps growing closer to you.
“Because from now on…” he said, catching one of your locks in between his fingers. “You belong in this castle.”
To be continued…
*fussock; a lazy fat woman…, a frowzy old woman.
*the ton; the ton actually refers to English high society during the Regency era, and encompasses every aristocrat from the royals to the gentry.
*rake; ‘rake’ is used to describe an immoral, hedonistic young man circulating in high society.
#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid angst#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid x fem!readr#criminal minds#spencer reid cm
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Shh!
Summary: Y/N and Dean have been overserved...what truths may come from it? Shh! Don't tell.
Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N
Warnings: None. All fluffy silliness. Little bit of crack. Drunk!Dean and Drunk!Reader. Some mutual pining (sort of).
Word Count: 1,379
A/N: Okay, so I'm trying really hard to catch up with my requests. Thank you all for your patience. This fun request came from a lovely anon:
omgomgomg can you please do the giggly smut space with a drunk!dean and reader?? i love your work sm!
This bingo square was already filled, but I said I'd try to write something fun for them anyway. So, I had lots of fun with the silly antics of these goofballs, hope you enjoy. ❤️
“Shh!” Y/N hissed with her finger to her lips as she and Dean stumbled drunkenly through the bunker door. She tried to frown at her best friend and meant to scold him for his noisiness, but he was making a goofy face as he pretended to be tiptoeing towards the stairs and she just ended up giggling loudly.
“Shh!” Dean scolded her.
“Me shush? You shush!” She said, laughing as she followed him down the stairs. As they neared the bottom, Y/N lost her footing in the grating on the steps and pitched forward. Dean turned to try and steady her, but it was too late and she knocked them both to the ground.
Dean landed on his back and Y/N landed directly on top of him.
“Oof!” Dean grunted as his fall and Y/N's weight knocked the wind out of him.
“Oh my god! Dean, I'm so sorry!” Y/N felt terrible, but her drunken mind couldn't stop laughing at the way they'd plummeted to the floor.
When he could breathe again Dean groaned and started laughing too.
“Shh!” He cautioned as he rolled Y/N beneath him. “You're gonna wake up Sam.” He said in a voice that he thought was a whisper. It wasn't.
Y/N nodded and then caught Dean's eye as her giggling subsided. For a moment their gazes connected as their laughter died away slowly, so that they were left pressed close together and staring at each other.
“You know, you're so pretty.” Dean said, his words slightly slurred. “I don't think you know that, you don't know that I think that. You are.”
Y/N shook her head. “No, YOU don't know. I told you so many times, Dean. I told you that time when there was the baseball bat, and then too, where when we were at the drive-in, and…” Y/N frowned and then shook her head. “I told you all of those times. And then more.”
Dean was nodding along with her words as though he knew what she was talking about but then he burst into laughter and Y/N joined him.
“What were we talking about?” He asked as he stood up and pulled Y/N to her feet. They leaned on each other for balance.
Y/N shook her head. “I don't actually know.” She cackled, and then shushed herself. Dean joined her.
“Shh!”
“Shh!”
They were both holding a finger to their lips and giggling like idiots as Sam walked into the war room from the direction of his bedroom.
“Shhh-ut up. Both of you.” He said, barefooted and scowling. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a dark blue t-shirt and had obviously been sleeping.
He was also obviously very annoyed. He ran a tired hand over his cheeks. “It's three in the morning, you two. What the hell are you doing coming home at this hour?”
Y/N snorted and then covered her mouth. “Sorry!” She said when Sam's frown landed on her. “You just…my mom said that when I was like fifteen. You sounded like her, for a second.”
“It's the long hair.” Dean said in a stage whisper, making Sam roll his eyes and Y/N nearly fall over laughing.
“Was your mom a really tall lady?” Dean asked as both of them fell onto each other again, and landed on their asses on the floor - the extreme hilarity taking them both out.
“Oh, Jesus.” Sam said in sleepy irritation. “I'm going back to bed. Can you both shut up and just pass out on the floor?”
“Aye aye, Captain!” Dean called with salute and Y/N followed suit.
“Drunken idiots.” Sam mumbled lovingly as he padded back down the hallway to his bedroom.
Eventually Dean and Y/N stood each other up and then wandered down the other hallway towards Dean's room. When they got there, Y/N's eyes lit up when she saw Dean's vinyl collection.
“We have to play some Black Sabbath.”
She fumbled pulling the record out of its sleeve and almost dropped it.
“Hey! Careful!” Dean protested as he took the precious vinyl out of her hands.
In the end though, it took both of them to get the record on the turntable properly, and then all of their combined coordination to successfully put the needle down without scratching it. But soon Paranoid was blasting through Dean's room, and down the hallways to Sam's as well, where the youngest Winchester growled and slammed his pillow down tight over his ears.
As the song continued, Y/N grabbed Dean's hands and got him to share in a little drunken headbanging along with the wailing guitars, pounding drums and Ozzy’s slightly monotone voice. Eventually though, he let go so he could crash onto his bed.
Y/N kept dancing, offbeat and slightly awkward. Dean watched her and smiled deeply.
“This is the other time!” He called over the music.
Y/N shook her head and turned down the volume a little. “What?”
“This is the other time.” Dean repeated.
“The other time of what?” Y/N asked, scrunching up her nose and furrowing her brow in that adorable way she had.
“The other time when you're so pretty and I'm telling you, but you're not listening.” Dean sighed, suddenly sad.
Y/N stumbled over to the bed and climbed up beside him. “Why’re you…what's wrong?”
Dean shook his head. “No, you never listen to me when I'm trying to tell you. You don't get it.” His mouth dipped into a pout and Y/N was instantly contrite.
“Oh, I wanna listen to you. I do listen. You don't listen.”
Dean stared at her for a moment and then nodded resolutely. “We should write it down. Our things, our listening things. So we don't forget. Then we have to listen to both of ourselves.” Dean's eyes were wide, amazed by his incredible idea.
Y/N nodded and wobbled over for pens and paper from his desk. She brought them back and slumped onto the bed, passing out the writing materials and grabbing two hardcover books from the bedside table.
“For writing on.” She explained as she handed Dean a book.
“M’kay. Do you wanna go first?” Dean asked. “Cause…ladies? Y’know?”
But Y/N shook her head. “We could both go though.” She pointed at their separate pieces of paper.
“Oh right!” Dean said as though finally figuring out her ever-so-complicated plan.
Then they both bent their heads to their task, but after only a few minutes, their pens stilled and their heads drooped towards each other and then banged together gently as they both fell into drunken oblivion.
Twenty minutes later Sam barged into Dean's room no longer able to take the screaming Black Sabbath. He immediately noticed that both of his drunken idiots were sound asleep and snoring, and he sighed, giving his head a shake.
He took the needle off the record and shut off the record player before he walked quietly up to the bed and rolled his eyes indulgently as he saw Y/N with her head on Dean's shoulder and Dean with his head laying on top of her head.
They’re both gonna have such stuff necks in the morning. He thought.
He picked up the papers and books from their laps. He was about to throw the pages away but then he read them. His smile grew wider and wider as he read what they'd each written.
Neither had actually finished, but they were both saying the same thing:
“Finally.” Sam whispered with an affectionate eye roll. “Friggin’ idiots.”
He took the papers and walked to the kitchen. Grabbing two strong magnets he posted the letters in plain sight where they couldn't be missed, even by two fools with raging hangovers, before he shut off the lights and went back to bed.
Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:
@lyarr24
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@globetrotter28
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Dean Fics Only:
@roonthelittlespoon920
@slamminmine
@zepskies
@safiyas-world
Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:
@kazsrm67
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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:
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#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester fan fic#fic request#dean winchester crack fic#dean winchester
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Unwind.
*Images are from Pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.
Pairing: Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x f!reader (afab)
Word count: 4.1k (18+) MINORS DNI!
Summary: Your boyfriend, Dieter, has come home early from a project. Hoping to surprise you, he instead gets a surprise of his own when he discovers what you like to do unwind alone from a long day.
Notes/warnings: Smut, fluff, DUB-CON (one party is under the influence of ouid but they are both very into it), established relationship, accidental pervy!Dieter, accidental exhibitionism, pussy drunk Dieter, masturbation (f and m), sex toys, descriptions of smoking the devils lettuce, mentions of other drugs, porn with little plot, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, cumplay, they are both just super horny and sweet for each other, swearing, no y/n.
a/n: My first Dieter fic, I can’t remember really where or when I got the idea for this fic, but I knew it just screamed Dieter. This is probably quite up there with the filthiest thing i've written, and i'm not sorry, lol. Also, I apologise for my very long absence in posting writing. Life just got the best of me, and I lost all motivation pretty much to write. Ngl I don't think this is my best work, cause I'm a little rusty but it's fun and I enjoyed writing it. But anyway, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with my posts mean the world to me. Love yall so much! <3
*******
Now that his months-long project had wrapped up early, all Dieter wanted to do was surprise you. The both of you had long played the game of hiding behind corners and hiding in all sorts of spots to try and scare each other, all throughout your relationship.
But more often than not, it was you that made his heart jump out his chest, and a long list of swear words leave his mouth as he over-dramatically clutched his chest. To which you always laughed so hard you cried a little at another successful scare and his reaction. “I'll get you next time.” he mumbles, under his breath, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he plans when best to get you back.
So now, with an upper hand, he was hoping that he could give you a big fright and jump out of your closet when you least expect it. But what happened was so much more surprising.
You had just gotten back to your shared apartment after what felt like the longest week of your life. You had been drowning in deadlines at work and were so glad that it was friday evening so you could finally get a proper break. After ‘gracefully’ hanging up your jacket on the hooks near the front door and tossing your keys into the bowl on the entryway table, you immediately take off your bra as you walk into your apartment. Throwing it on the back of one of the barstools sitting in front of your kitchen island.
A loud sigh exhaling from your mouth as the pressure is released from your sore shoulders. It had been a long day at work before you ran around afterwards, getting a whole bunch of errands done that you had been putting off. So you were exhausted and understandably so.
You kick off your shoes as you walk through the messy apartment, not bothering to put them away where they belong or tidy up the growing mess just yet. No, first you need to unwind from the long ass week you had. Besides, the weekend started tomorrow, and you would have plenty of time to clean up then and before Dieter came back a week and a half from now.
You sighed again sadly thinking about your boyfriend. God, you missed him. He had been gone about 3 months now, and each day didn't get any easier. When the two of you were together, you were attached at the hip. Spending all the time you could together; talking, laughing, cuddling and fucking.
So it was quite a change the last few months going from spending almost all your time with your favourite person to almost none, except the few short calls Dieter managed to find time to have with you amongst his very busy schedule.
You tried to remind yourself of the fact that Dieter would be back before you knew it, and then you could once again spend all the much needed time together that you wanted.
You opened your fridge looking for a snack. You could have to tie your over till dinner that you would order yourself later, a treat for the end of a busy week.
You picked a few string cheese packets from the chilly shelves of your fridge before closing it shut with your hip as you walked off into your living room. Sitting down with a big “oof” on your couch and immediately sinking deep into the plush cushions as far as you could.
Dieter's heart was beating fast as he watched you through the horizontal slats of the storage closet door. He waited with baited breath, trying to find the perfect time to jump out and give you both the scare and surprise of a lifetime. He had been lucky enough to arrive an hour or so before you got home, which gave him plenty of time to get ready and pick the best hiding spot before you arrived.
He bites his lip, trying to hold back the chuckles wanting to escape as he imagined your hopefully soon to be shocked face. He watches as you get comfy on the couch and can’t help but look at you with adoration, even with dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly untamed, you looked like a dream, the prettiest thing he has seen.
You quickly finish your cheese sticks, hungrier than you thought you were, and toss the wrappers on the coffee table. Yet another thing to be cleaned up tomorrow. You let out a long yawn and stretched your arms above your head. A cheeky smile graces your mouth as you realise how you're going to spend the rest of your night unwinding.
You waste no time in reaching into the draws of your coffee table before you and pulling out a dark green bong with small red flowers decorating it that Dieter got you for your birthday last year. You put it down the top of the coffee table briefly as you pull out a matching glass box with your stash in it and a red grinder.
Your fingers are working swiftly in their practiced work as you get your first cone ready. You pull out your black zippo lighter with your and Dieters' initials and the day the two of you started dating engraved on the front. You flick your thumb over the flint wheel a few times until it ignites. You take in a fraction of a breath before putting your mouth on the end of the glass tube, tilted towards you.
Holding the flame over dried grounds, watching as the white smoke slowly crawls up the neck of the bong. You let the smoke enter your lungs, filling you with warmth.
Your lips only disconnect when all the smoke is gone and you breathe in a little of fresh air. You hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before you tilt your head back and exhale all the hazy smoke. Your loose fist covers your mouth when you let a small cough.
You decide to do one more hit before you put down the ‘vase’ and let your head rest against the center of the back of the couch. Your legs spread wide, carelessly, as you wait for the drug to slowly take its effects. You groan as you lie back on the couch with a mouthful of smoke. You tilt your head up to look up at the ceiling as you let the hazy white cloud float from your parted lips.
Reaching down beside you, your fingers find something from out under your couch, a rectangle box. You open it to reveal a matte purple 8 inch, life-like, dildo. Fit with veins, balls at the base, and all. Your mouth waters just from the sight.
You have been extremely horny as of late. You always are when Dieter goes away for long periods of time, and you don’t have him to give you toe-curling orgasms all the time. You can never make yourself cum quite as hard as Dieter can make you come, but not from lack of trying. You lazily scoot down the couch a bit so you can take your pants and underwear off.
Dieter eyes bulge in head when he realises what you about to do and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees that you're wearing his boxer briefs, even more so when he sees a glistening line of arousal, saturating them. He palms his now fully erect cock through his jeans, as his eyes connect with your glistening folds.
You take the hefty dildo out of the box and half haphazardly toss the container to the ground. Your breath hitches in your throat as you make quite work of sliding it through your folds, the tip catches deliciously on your clit.
You toss it to the side for a quick sec and reach down to your bong on the coffee table, after taking another cone you put it back on the table and grab the remote of the table, flicking on the tv and putting on one of your favourite vibey sex playlists on spotify on.
You sigh as you lean back and you take off your work shirt, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy old tank top, which you nipples prominently stick out of and some cosy socks. You pull your breasts out of your shirt and start groping yourself while watching the screen playing at a low volume, with hazy eyes.
You soon pick the silicone dick up again and slowly tease yourself by tracing around your lips and through your dripping seam. Your head lulls on the back of the couch. You tease around your aching hole with the tip before pushing in ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back for a second as you moan at the slight stretch. “D-dieter.” You softly call out.
His eyes bulge out of his sockets watching you, his hand unconsciously reaching down under the elastic of his pants to feel his rock-hard erection. He swipes his thumb over his weeping tip and has to bite back a groan.
You pump in so slowly, only till it reaches halfway before you pull it out further again. You continue this to help work yourself open.
He watches you intently, stroking himself to the slow rhythm youv’e set for fucking yourself. He uses his other hand to pinch his base every few minutes, to keep from blowing his load, so close just from the sight of you.
God, he doesnt even care about scaring and surprising you anymore, all he cares about is watching you as you fuck your self, quietly calling out his name as you take your time in getting to your release. He has half a mind to just jump out now and fuck you himself but the sight of you spread out for him, caught up in your own little pleasure-filled world is a sight to good to be true.
He studies your form like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand, like he hasn't spent hours upon hours coaxing the prettiest little moans and whimpers from you, caressing over every single inch of you.
His eyes will never grow tired of the sight of you, your centre gushing with arousal, your eyes fighting to stay open, your mouth on the other hand, fighting to stay closed as a beautifully orchestrated ensemble of curses, moans, groans and his name come flooding out of your mouth.
His mouth waters as the ring of your arousal grows thicker around the base of the silicone cock. He missed the taste of you so much, while he was away. He loved spending hours between your legs, until you were shaking and overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. Crying out “Dieter! Please!” as you struggled to push away his starved mouth.
Your head is feeling quite light now, and the pleasure is rushing through your veins as you increase the speed of your strokes. You keep chanting Dieter’s name, over and over again, softly as if it will summon him somehow. Well shit, maybe it does.
Before he even realises what he is doing, his hand is fumbling for the doorknob of the closet, and he is stepping out, sweaty, and disheveled, all just from watching you. Your heart stops for a second as you hear the closet door near you open, your brain unable to come up with any sane reasonings until Dieter walks out flushed and sheepishly in a trance, consumed by his love and lust for you.
“Dieter?” You whisper, shocked to your core, that he is standing in front of you and still not entirely convinced that he isn't a hallucination caused by your hornyness and longing for him. And also maybe the drugs too.
He swallows harshly, his throat dry. All the liquids in his body seemingly have traveled lower in anticipation. You're about to jump up from the couch and squeeze him till his ribs break, but he beats you to it, sinking to the floor in front of you and hugging your calves tightly. As much as you missed your baby, you can't help but feel a little awkward, having been caught masturbating and still with the dildo between your legs, no doubt.
Before you can even clear your throat and try to explain yourself, Dieter starts kissing along the tops of your thighs, up your stomach, then sternum, up your throat till his lips lock onto yours. He kisses you with such meaning and passion as he tries and conveys all the feeling of how much he missed you and is so glad to see you now into a single kiss
“God. I. Missed.You. So. Much. Baby.” He says in between quick pecks before once again consuming your mouth with his own, trying to make up for all that lost time he wasn't able to taste your lips on his.
You break the kiss with a gasp, looking down to your legs where Dieter is spreading them to see the current state of your throbbing pussy. “Fuck and it sure looks like she missed me too, huh sweetheart. Just oozing and weeping, begging for my touch. Ain't that right baby?” He lovingly teases.
You grin and spread your legs even further to let him get an even better look at you swollen, glistening folds, still clenching around the girth of the dildo. He reaches his hand up between your legs and pulls the toy in and out of you slowly, eliciting a whimper from you.
“Fuck.” He groans, completely enthralled by the sight of you, and the growing creamy ring of arousal you have created around the base of the cock. He continues to slowly pump it in and out of you, as you squirm above him, your once lost orgasm now coming so close to grasp again.
“Dieter...please.” You croon, begging him not to stop as you feel the edge of your high starts to wash over you.
“Atta girl, fuck just like that. Cum for me baby.” He softly demands, as he works the now shiny dildo hard, fast and deep into your cunt. He sits up a bit on his knees and hovers over you.
Leaning his head to the side he starts to suck on your pulsing clit. His eyes roaming between your leaking hole and trembling thighs, up to your red, cloudy eyes struggling to stay open with your brows furrowed above them. Your mouth agape, curses and whimpers as your orgasm hits you full force.
He watches with blown eyes, mouth hanging open, nearly drooling at the sight of your back arching off the couch, as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. He slowly pumps the cock in and out of you, prolonging your high till your legs close firmly around it. He carefully opens them back enough so he can pull out the cock.
He palms himself as he inspects the aftermath, mouth watering from the sight and smell of your creamy residue slathered upon the tip to the flared base of the slick silicone. He sticks out his tongue and brings the base, where most of the cum has gathered in a band round the bottom, to his mouth. You watch stunned and too aroused to speak as he licks it clean of your sweet drippings.
“God baby, missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he groans. You clench around nothing as you watch him, eyes fluttering behind closed lids, messily tongue the silicone like one might lick brownie or cookie batter of a spatula.
After he finishes with the lower half, his lips pink and shiny, he wordlessly brings the tip up to your face. You grin devilishly before opening your lips wide and sucking the fat head into your mouth. You too moan at the sweet taste of yourself, not often shared directly from the source but usually from Dieters tongue do you taste the sticky release of your climax.
He palms his painfully hard cock through his pants, before spreading your thighs wide once again, and feasting on the remaining juices. You moan as best as you can with the cock down your throat, before removing it from your mouth and sitting it beside you as you watch Dieter's beautiful curls bob up and down between your legs.
His tongue slides from your quivering hole to your clit, licking flatly. He alternates between sucking your nub, to fucking into your wet hole.
You fight to keep your thighs open, to not crush his head or let the gorgeous sight below you be hidden, but you can’t any more as the drug haze inside your veins seems to have taken all your strength. Sensing your struggle, Dieter curls his arms around your thighs, holding them open and drags your center closer to his hungry mouth.
You whimper at the dull pain that you feel from his tight grip holding you apart, just under your breaking point. The aching soreness from your legs being spread so wide, only adding to the intensity of pleasure rolling around in your stomach.
He alternates between eating you messily, and slowly picking you apart. Motorboating his lips and nose between your folds, and precise and firm licks on your clit while curling his thick fingers up into that sweet, sweet spot inside you, that has you moaning, incohesive gibberish from your pleasure and drug intoxication.
Even with Dieter being the sober one (surprisingly), he sounds just as wrecked as you, if not more. So drunk and intoxicated on you and your pussy, something he and you both thought he was deprived of way too long.
Soon you are reaching yet another, and surely not the last of night, orgasm. Your thighs shake with the intensity of the pleasure seeping into your veins. Your lips go from being an wide ‘o’ shape to a cheesy wide grin as the dopamine and endorphins flood your system.
Dieter makes sure he licks up every single drop of your essence before he rises off his knees slightly and encases you in a massive, big bear hug. Feeling what little air was left in your lungs, you giggle along with Dieter breathlessly as you squeeze his middle just as hard.
He lifts his head to plant the softest, sweet kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours. You take a deep, tired breath in and your eyes flutter close, his delicious musky scent filling your nostrils once again.
“I missed you so much too, baby.” You whisper. You admire the deep crows feet around his eyes as he grins, his dark rich eyes sparking as he beams with happiness, love, and lust. His smile turns into something that of the devils as he begins to caress your body.
He lifts up your arms and takes off your tank top, throwing it on the ground somewhere. Before his lips lock onto your pebbled nipples. Groaning as he squeezes and plays with the other one, before switching his mouth over. After leaving your tits a glistening, saliva-covered mess he descends further down your body, his kiss-bruised lips planting themselves on every single inch of skin he can see.
“Mm need to fffffuck you sweetttt thing, and ffffeel that heavenly p-pussy wwwrapped around me againnn.” He mumbles, his lips smushed against your stomach. You softly laugh and nod your head. Getting the gist of what he was saying and knowing him well enough to know what he said that you didn't catch.
“Please Dieter. Please fuck me. Need… to feel you. Missed you…. and your cock…. so fucken much.” You garble out in your own form of a coherent sentence.
Dieter can’t help but whimper listening to you, his cock pulses with need for release as he listens to your confession (although mumbled) of need for him.
He can’t wait any longer.
He reaches under your ass and lifts you up and shifts you so you're lying on your back longways on the couch. He quickly shucks his shirt off, getting a little stuck in the process as he does so. You both giggle and laugh as your hands go up to help him. He soon pulls it off and makes quick work off, shoving his pants and boxers off his legs.
Both of your eyes are shining with something so deep and emotional as you admire each other's naked bodies. A sight seen countless times between the two of you but one that neither would ever grow sick of. You reach up and stroke your hands up and down Dieter's front, feeling his strong chest and plush belly that you love very, very much. He whimpers as your hands trail down into the coarse hair at the base of his leaking cock.
Even as he towers over your relaxed form, there is an air of submission to him still. The way his eyes are glazed over with no other drug than love, pupils blown wider than when he was higher than a kite on LSD. His eyes brows slightly furrowed in, his chest moving fast as he pants. His bottom lip trembling with anticipation of connecting your bodies together so intimately once again how they should be. How they would always be if Dieter got a chance.
He shakes himself out of his love trance and lowers himself over you, his forearms resting on the couch beside your head. You close your eyes and kiss him deeply, giving him a piece of you that no one but him gets to have. Literally and spiritually. He groans almost pathetically when you reach your hand down and swipe his tip through your once again dripping folds.
Your squinting and red eyes look up at him pleadingly, just begging to put the both of you out of the agonising wait and finally feel each other. He smiles a soft smile before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into your pulsing cunt.
“Ohhhh….ohhh…oh…yeah, honey.” He moans out as he slowly bottoms out in your cunt. You gasp as you adjust to his considerably large girth. Something you truly will never fully get used to. Your hands clutch as his biceps, grounding yourself as your fluttering pussy adjusts to him.
“God….fucken hell, baby. You feel somehow even better than I remember. Jesus christ.” He pants, his face screwing up from the pleasure just simply inside your beautiful heat gives him. He desperately tries to think of anything else other than your stunning form below him and just made for him cunt, feeling already so close to blowing his load.
He reaches down and pinches his base and quickly begins Jack hammering into you fast and hard, to hopefully get you off before he ultimately finishes way quicker than he intended to.
“Oh f-f-fuck, Dieter!” You cry out, eyes squeezing tight at the immediate hard and fast pace Dieter has set while fucking you.
“Im s-sorry b-baby. Fuckkk. You just feel too damn good. I just n-n-need. Ahhh. Need you come before I-I-I do.” He stutters.
Your heart and cunt clenches around, eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy coursing through your as Dieter repeatedly stuffs his fat tip into the squishy part deep inside you.
“OoOoh shit, baby. Can feel you clenching real good around me, god damn!” He groans.
You lay there bonelessly, whimpering as Dieter’s fingers circle you clit just right. Sending you over the edge into the deep depths of mind-numbing pleasure. Your body shakes as your orgasm comes crashing down and over you, with Dieter only seconds after.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh oh oh shit,” He wails out with every rope of cum that spurts out of him, his hips almost unconsciously thrusting themselves as deep as they can go every time, only stopping on the last rope of cum, burying his now spent cock deep into your pussy. He lets his full weight drop on top of you as he catches his breath from his own high.
You breathe out with a soft smile, feeling such bliss and warmth from Dieter being here with you. He moves his head from your neck and looks at you. You both smile wide and break in hearty chuckles, before kissing each other.
You relish in the feeling of Dieter’s chest booming with laughter pressed up against yours, feeling his beating heart beat under you hand, showing that he is here with you now and just Dieter in general, his body fitting on top of your like a puzzle, like two pieces that you never would’ve known hadn't always been connected together like this.
And that’s exactly how you fall asleep, entwined in each others arms, connected in all ways possible, smiling to yourself as you listen to Dieter’s soft snores and you feel his heart beating strongly against yours, before you two let the sweet blissful temptations of sleep take you too. Everything was going to be okay now that your love was back with you.
*********
#dieter bravo#dieter x reader#dieter bravo fanfiction#the bubble fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo fanfic
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Line of kings
#dragon age#bioware#dragon age origins#dao#warden#grey warden#aeducan#orzammar#dwarves#my doodles#i worked SO long on this my god…anyway enjoy!#erwin
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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Ready to Comply
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Villain!Reader
Plot: Something had been missing. But that has nothing to do with your life time enemy standing in front of you to finally end this.
Warnings: 18+. Smut, light angst and violence.
Words: 4,4OO
He remembers telling Steve and Sam about them – “Their most elite death squad. They speak thirty languages. Can hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”
…and you used to be one of them.
Bucky takes another look around the massive room, wincing when he sees all of his colleagues passed out around the space. It happened way too fast. How is he the only one still standing? They walked in here so confident, so prepared. He had done so much research on you. He knew everything.
His mind is running a million miles an hour to try and process how you are still so calm after single-handedly taking out his entire team. So skilled, so graceful. Only one strand of hair had come loose to hang over your eyes.
It’s just you and him now. Again. Exactly how you ended up last time. And the time before that, long before he had a team to stand with him. You’re the only one who has had nearly all versions of James Buchanan Barnes as your opponent. Why the fight has never been settled before, neither you nor Bucky know …or let yourselves admit.
It is a thing of Bucky’s nightmares. The same one, over and over and over again. You are always in it and always have the winning hand. Never has he been able to figure out how to make the odds turn in his favour. This conniving, effortless and mean – mean – woman. This picture of a villain that heats his blood to a boiling point and makes his skin tighten with frustration. He’s had the dreams for years. For years, the image of you haunted him.
Though if he had to be honest, despite the endless losing battle, seeing you in his dreams was a welcome relief. You became a confusing token for him during these years of recovery. A constant – an image of beauty almost. Now here you are, again.
Bucky turns to you, his piercing eyes connecting with yours as you raise your brows in curiosity.
“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” he scoffs and you admire the way he sounds so cool. Like you haven’t just proven how easily you could beat him. Not that you’d make it quick or easy – not with him. What would be the fun in that?
You have spent years perfecting an attack on this man, knowing he’d return to you time and time again. Like fate wanted him in your claws. Your little plaything. All you can see is a challenge. For you, yes, but mostly for him. To break him, tear him to shreds. Perhaps, if the fates allow, for him to change his alliance. For him to finally embrace that inner darkness, find harmony and purpose with that Winter Soldier monster in his body.
A challenge indeed…
“Scared of me?” you drawl with an indifferent shrug of your shoulder, “No.” You never intended to scare him – of course, not until the next words fall from your lips. “I think you and I both know perfectly well there’s only one thing you in particular should be scared of,” you start, “a part of you that can hurt you beyond torture.” You can tell he has caught on when you see his jaw tick and his eyes harden. Your footsteps are slow and long as you approach the metal-armed soldier in the middle of the large hall of the worn castle you decided to reside in. “And don’t be mistaken, I don’t need ten pretty, Russian words to turn that side against you.” Silence before your final blow, “Your trauma will work just fine.”
That seems to be the trigger as he lunges forward, raising his hands and turning them to claws before you take a few steps back and halt him with a simple palm in the air.
“ –Careful,” you warn with deadly calm. “Every time you show people that short fuse of yours, you make it so easy for someone to grab onto it and light it on fire.” Short puffs of air leave his flaring nostrils and you purse your lips to repress the sadistic smile spreading over it. Until you realise you don’t care, letting the corners of your mouth tug upwards.
“Look at you,” you mock, “still depending on the control exercised on you for years. You have no idea how to take the reins yourself.”
“You don’t think I can exercise control?” The question is his way to take back his power, having had quite enough of you pressing where it hurts. His voice is clear, sharp, the gravel in it completely gone.
Bucky’s face, to your disappointment and his credit, remains stoic and you have no idea how lucky you are he has learned to restrain himself even just slightly, because you don’t know how dangerous Bucky becomes when he is genuinely pissed. Sure, he’s grumpy and harsh all the time and you’ve seen him channel Hydra’s fury, but hardly ever does his own rage come out to play.
“A smart and well-trained assassin doesn’t dive at his target like that. Any chance you’re still as good as the Winter Soldier without Hydra telling you what to do?” A small part inside you is warning you to back off, to not test the dangerous man any further. Just because you know exactly how to push the Bucky Barnes past his limit, doesn’t mean you should.
“The Winter Soldier was created to kill. I can do much more damage.”
“To yourself?” You nearly snort.
Bucky grits his teeth harder. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
“Let me ask you an important question,” he starts, his voice awfully cool and steady, “what on Earth makes you think I need to control myself when I can so easily control you instead?”
And now you know where that voice, the confidence, comes from. You clench your jaw tightly when the heel of your right foot dips down in the open grove between the floor and the heightened platform. A grove that has crumbled down into the depths of the ancient building, where you know the dungeons are. So far down with so much debris at the bottom, one wrong step and the fall would instantly kill you. Even as you are – a super soldier just like Bucky, yet chosen different paths – you won’t survive that fall and Bucky knows it.
You should have known not to pick this location to hide in – shouldn’t have picked the ruin you passed in the way through the mountains. Bucky guided your arrogant self straight into a trap what he assumed is of your own making. The bastard was always manipulative enough to get people to fall into the grave they dug themselves. So pretty, so skilled and somehow… so, so clever.
Sure, you can be impulsive at times, but it isn’t like Bucky is giving you any other choice than to whip out the nearest blade and charge at him. Smirk on his face, Bucky settles into fighting mode and opens his stance to welcome you in. Not giving him any time to realise that he had you fair and square, you summon decades of training into your limbs. Your head goes quiet, eerily still, as muscle memory takes over and your feet and elbows and hands crack into every open spot that Bucky has.
Quakes of pain hit you at every defence he puts up, but you soothe it over with your next blow. Hit after kick after punch, you work Bucky back into the main hall, away from your previous battlefield and trying not to lose all that space you fought for.
Hesitate and you die. Hesitate and you die. The mantra keeps repeating in your empty head and you scream and grunt and yell with every powerful thrust of your fists, only for all of it to be blocked by Bucky. There is more than anger coming to the surface. This rage – this ancient rage at yourself, at the world, at Hydra–
Bucky doesn’t get any time to retaliate, but you know better than to think you can exhaust him with fighting techniques he has memorised himself. So you switch to the sharp end of the blade and you twist and turn it within your hand as you jab and stab for the soft bits of skin on his body.
Your bones shudder when the knife jams between the plates of his arm and Bucky’s hand flies to take the knife during the abrupt pause your body found itself in. But you’re nearly as strong as he is and definitely faster, so you twist the knife with Bucky’s own power to angle against his chest and jam it there.
The blade tugs at the fabric of his shirt and Bucky’s eyes harden as they fall on yours. You narrow your own eyes at him and grit your teeth as you put pressure behind the stabbing instrument. Your gaze lowers to your hands.
His hand is wrapped around yours almost in a gentle way, the length of his fingers curling around your fist which is clutched around the handle of the blade. The touch makes you shiver and you focus all your attention on staying rigid and exercising enough power to remain in your current position. Both your breaths are shallow and the stare you’re exchanging is so sharp, you’re sure you can see a bolt of electricity shoot from your irises to his.
Slowly dragging your hand down half an inch, he wraps his other hand around yours as well, two of his hands now securing the blade against his own chest. You try not to let it show how much his actions confuse you, apprehension burning in your stomach. His flesh hand is warm, radiating heat from his skin to yours, callouses scraping slightly.
“Right here. Through the ribs and into my heart.” His voice is soft and calm, coaxing a paradoxical reaction from you. It makes you want to prove to him he has no reason to be this calm, but his tone calms you down all the same. He trusts you enough to hold a blade to his chest, yet has no faith in you to drive it through his ribs.
Always these games…
Bucky hisses through his teeth, "Kill me then. I fucking dare you." Though his tone is just as calm and quiet as before, private almost, there’s an impatience to his voice. Like he wants you to put him out of his misery.
“Got something to run from?” you purr with a sympathetic head tilt, eyes still narrowed in on his. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
“On the contrary. I have all the time in the world,” he whispers and you notice his head moving closer just an inch, his scent making your eyes flutter. He didn’t seem like the type to smell exceptionally good – but boy, were you wrong.
“Should I make it a slow death then?” you taunt and he smirks.
“Whatever makes you feel the most power.” Damn him. He knows those words strip the power away from you in an instant. He knows it and he knows you know it, too. “But that leaves you with none, doesn’t it?”
You hold your breath to keep your defeat from slipping out with it. Eyes on the blade in your hands with a look as sharp as the dagger itself, you tighten your fists around the handle.
And all of a sudden it dawns on you. Fear. Gut-wrenching, horrifying fear. Not of Bucky. But losing him. The consequences of allowing yourself to plunge that knife into his body. It’s ridiculous, really. You barely know him. Yet–
Yet he is the only one like you. The only one with emotions and personality traits abnormally heightened like your own, with that goddamn serum tainting his DNA. The only other person in constant war within themself - war between good and evil. Good won in him. Evil won in you. Because the world is so awful, so endlessly painful. And Bucky knows that – has been a victim of that awful nature. Yet good won.
He’s good.
And you want to jam a knife between his ribs.
So you do the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do if you were ever in this position, because it would make you lose your resolve: you look up into his eyes.
Grey-blue.
You remember, from all those times staring him down and trying not to think of their colour. That beautiful, innocent colour that you knew he could flatten with just a look, a drop of his brow. All brightness and light gone and eyes empty. But it is there now. You don’t get where the light comes from that shimmers in his eyes. It’s a dark room.
“Why are you hesitating?” he asks, his voice merely a whisper. You never heard him sound like this before.
“I’m not.”
“I could have killed you five times over by now,” he reminds you, his hands twisting around yours, showing you just how easily he could redirect the knife’s target.
“You won’t.”
“I won’t?”
“You won’t,” you breathe.
A pause.
“I won’t,” he breathes back, his eyes dropping down. You swallow and the room seems to shrink, so much so, you hear your heartbeat echoing around you.
You don’t get to release the air lodged into your throat as Bucky lunges again, this time to cover your lips with his own. You hadn’t realised that your grip on the knife was completely depending on Bucky’s hands, until the weapon clatters to the floor the second his hands grab your face to drag it up to his.
You want to enjoy the feeling of his lips, but the rush you feel and your ramming pulse make you feel impossibly dizzy. His tongue taking advantage of the gasp you let out makes you dizzier, and you let out a whine. He groans back, walking you backward in an attempt to get closer to you. This large, solid man pushing and pushing and pushing as he strips all your bodily control from you with his bruising kiss.
You think you’re kissing him back, you aren’t sure, but every step he takes forward, you flee back. Step after step, you refuse to close the distance, his mouth so wild and feral against yours. Until you gasp again, your back hitting a crumbling pillar and Bucky crushes his entire frame against yours, his nails digging into your scalp as the kiss deepens.
Then it hits you. And it overwhelms you now. Your hands clawing at his chest, his shoulders, his neck – closer, closer, closer. God, he tastes like fire and stone and that ancient fight. You moan desperately and he grinds his hips into yours, making your knees nearly buckle over from the pleasure it ignites between your thighs. You need more of that, of his arousal against your own.
Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you realise that this was your fight all along. This was the very thing you needed to settle. A compatibility no one can match. And you want to tell him that, mock him for it when his lips leave yours, but they attach themselves to that spot below your ear and your eyes roll to the back of your head with a low moan.
This man…
“Who would have known,” he murmurs against your skin, accentuating his words with the scrape of his teeth, barely making you able to register them, “those moans might be the thing that actually kills me.”
You almost want to laugh, but he’s right. If your moans kill him, his mouth will kill you. Your heart is beating so loud, so hard, the organ might give out entirely. Your fingers hurt from clutching onto him and you can’t feel your legs. All he’s done is kiss your neck. His grip on you is so tight, so full of frustration and passion–
“Bucky,” you rasp and he freezes.
His forehead drops to your shoulder. “You’ve never said my name before,” he grinds out, his voice rough. “Do it again.”
“Bucky.”
“Again.”
“Bucky.”
His head lifts from your shoulder, his hands still holding your face and his eyes connecting with yours. “I am not going to stop until you have no voice left to say it with.”
He isn’t asking for permission. Not at all. This was a warning – for you to prepare, to finally settle this. You cling to that last piece, that last little shred of dignity and defiance.
“Who says we won’t leave this battle unfinished like all the other ones?” you ask, albeit breathlessly, clinging to that mechanism that keeps him away and angry.
Bucky narrows his eyes, dragging them over each of your features in a slow, deliberate swoop. You feel like your skin might peel off if he looks at you any longer. He can see it, can see the facade. The grip on your face is tight and you try not to swallow away the dryness in your throat.
Then he smiles.
“Nice try,” he nearly whispers, “but now that we’re here, I’m not planning on any unfinished business with you.”
This time you do swallow, eyes fluttering as you look up at him. You try to snap your walls back up, push him away, but your body isn’t listening. It’s whining for him, crying out for that spark. That final puzzle piece. The one man that can handle you. The only one that is still standing there in the end.
You feel it shift– your alliance.
“Shut up,” you snap and crash your mouth to his, fingers clutching to his shirt.
He laughs against your lips and his hands slide around your waist now, dragging you closer and conveniently dragging you up so one of his thighs slots between yours. The touch of his firm muscle against your throbbing core makes your knees tremble and you would melt to the floor if it wasn’t for Bucky’s hold on you.
The shuddering breath you let out has Bucky knowing enough. He never saw this coming, never even considered this. But he felt the shift – he was sure it was your scent that made his body betray him. Somewhere, his mind was screaming at him to not be stupid and drag that fucking knife away from his heart. Yet his intuition, trained for decades and somehow sharper than ever today, had muffled that scared voice and told him to trust his gut. She isn’t going to do it. And it was right. Just like he wouldn’t have done it.
And now – this powerful, deadly, untouchable woman is in his arms. So pliant, so desperate, so needy. He couldn’t feel more powerful himself. Not a serum in the world, not a stronger metal for his arm could grant him the feeling of power he has now. With you on his side, he is unstoppable. You can make him do anything.
He has something else in mind, however. He wants to show you exactly what anything entails, how much he is actually willing to do for you. And the strangled moan against his hungry mouth when he drags your hips over his thigh again, settles it for him. There is nothing like the pride and hunger that rushes through his veins when he hears that noise.
Maybe one thing. When you say his name.
“Bucky.”
Fuck.
Digging his fingers into your body so hard he’s sure he is leaving temporary bruises –Good, you’re his now– he lets out an animalistic growl and gives a hard thrust against you. Your body moulds perfectly between him and the pillar. The answering grind of your hips against him, brushing his cock so nicely, has his heart coming to a stop. The kiss turns messy, tongues and teeth and bruised lips, he doesn’t know what to do with that endless, dreadful need. Both your breaths are uncontrolled and low noises of need slip from both of you. He doesn’t know where his body ends and yours begins, so entangled with each other as he mindlessly grinds you further into the crumbling stone.
“I swear to God, if you don’t take off your clothes soon,” your growl surprises him and he lets out a low laugh at the desperate command. The only reason he doesn’t mock you for it, is because he agrees. Why are his clothes still on?
Quickly setting you down, he starts making work of his clothes, both of you ripping at yourselves to get rid of that last barrier. But Bucky gets distracted and helps you undress instead. And when you’re left in just your underwear and a lose hanging shirt that sags over your shoulders, all Bucky has managed is to shed his weapons and to unbuckle his belt. Earning an unimpressed glare from you at the lack of nudity, Bucky lets out a growl in answer.
“I’ll fuck you slowly later,” he grunts and is on you again.
You want to protest, you really do, but the words escape you the second his lips connect with yours again. Oh, this man is trouble. Softer and languid this time, his mouth drags over yours, tongue taunting and tasting. You slacken against him, your fingers around his forearms to keep from slipping to the ground. Trouble, trouble, trouble.
In such a daze, such a trance from that sinful mouth, you hardly notice his hands slipping between your thighs after his leg pushes them apart. That first touch, so deliberate, so specific, of his fingers to your aching pussy, has you visibly shudder against him, nails digging into his skin.
“I was wrong,” he breathes over your lips. His fingers slip past the flimsy fabric of your panties and a long finger slips through your folds, dipping into your hole tentatively before teasing you further. “This is going to be the thing that kills me.”
And with that painful confession, his finger slips into your dripping hole so easily, so smoothly, so goddamn deep, you lift to your toes and stretch to make it bearable.
It’s unbearable, the pleasure that sparks all throughout your body. You need him to move, need him to– to–
“More,” you plead, unable to open your eyes back up, “more, more, more.”
You can almost hear his cocky grin as he slips another finger in and curls it against a spot deep inside of you. It releases a moan so sudden, you couldn’t have stopped it if you tried, your eyes flying open. Bucky’s brows shoot up with intrigue, pressing his fingertips against that spot again and almost making you curl up into a ball against him. Fuck. He’s going to kill you.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he breathes, his forehead falling to yours after watching that look of defeat on your face, “I got you.”
Thoughts having left your head, you can only nod breathlessly, tilting your head back against the stone as his fingers start working inside of you. The involuntary convulsions of your cunt around his fingers make your neck and cheeks warm, the loss of control making you feel beyond vulnerable. But God, you can’t find it in you to care too much. The way he stuffs you full, the way his mouth works messily against the column of your neck, the heavy breaths that come from him from just pleasing you – it all builds up in your abdomen. Tightening, fluttering, aching. Your toes curl as his fingers move faster, the friction against your entrance so filthy in combination with the sound of your wetness.
Bucky groans, impatience straining through his cock as he wants to feel you around his fingers. He can feel you flutter, he can hear your breathing getting impossibly laboured and he should, he really should, want to drag this out more. But there is this wild, primal part of him that wants to get you to your next orgasm already, and your next, and the one after that.
He sighs deeply, channelling all of his restraint to keep calm and savour this moment. This moment of weakness for you. Weakness within him. Fuck, you’re his weakness. His fingers keep moving into that spot that seems to make you stutter and stumble, his wrist turning to make you feel that stretch, his tongue darting out to touch that spot under your ear. And then, he presses his palm to your clit, thrumming with need, and the shudder that rumbles down your spine has him stand on alert instantly.
Rotating his palm against your clit, his fingers ramming into your spot, he watches in awe as you fall apart around them. The way your eyes roll back, the breathless scream from your lips, the tension building and building and building in your body before weakening to near paralysis. Oh, that does things for Bucky’s ego.
Fingers trembling and bottom lip aching from the assault of your own teeth, you try desperately to get some air back into your lungs. You can’t feel your legs, your head is buzzing and your pussy won’t stop contracting around Bucky’s fingers, even as they have stopped moving.
“Oh my God,” you whine softly, eyes still closed.
“Mhm,” Bucky hums, burying his face in your neck. That was the best thing he’s ever done. Screw making amends, screw being good, this made it all worth it. He doesn’t know why or how, but this makes that neglected part inside of him hum with delight.
But he’s not done. Oh no, not with his cock groaning at him to explore you a bit further. Not with only his zipper in the way of that warmth that is still wrapped around his fingers. Fuck, how good would his fingers taste right about now?
He’s not waiting to find out and then his eyes lock with yours, darkness and light shimmering in them simultaneously. They flutter to close at the taste, at the way you bite your lip as the sight, but he is not losing you out of his sights.
“Winter soldier,” you breathe, a calm sort of power tainting your tone.
Oh, he likes it when you call him that.
You do not need those ten Russian words. At all.
He smirks, “Ya gotov otvechat.”
#hbd to me :-)#is2g this has been in my drafts for so long and i couldn't seem to finish it#but oh my god i finally did it#im sorry you guys had to wait for so long i tried my best#also this is my birthday present to you guys!!! i hope you enjoy it#thank the heavens for how h*rny i am bc DAMN it is baad#PLS TELL ME WHAT U THINK???#its not my best work but i hope you enjoy it anyway#BYEEEEEE#bucky barnes#writing#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes smut#oneshot#e to l
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@possiblycringe @very-very-dizzy @k40su HEHEHEHE OKAY >:3
So! To prevent myself from infodumping too much keep this post somewhat short I can talk about the story goin' on. Know that I'm still working on it, so there's a chance things could change in the future.
Generally it follows the same as canon, but it starts with Azure (Agent 3/Captain 3), Callie and Marie all being werekrakens. All of them were born werekrakens too. Marie started turning around age 5-6, Azure around 9-10, and Callie doesn't start changing until the events of this AU (aka HELLA late).
Things don't really kick off until Azure's gf and roommate, Mist (Agent 8) accidentally finds out about Azure being a werekraken after she fails to make it to the Squid Sisters' place to spend that full moon. Fortunately Azure and Mist are close enough for Azure to still recognize Mist in their kraken state and not feel threatened by her, so things are all good. Mist is then taken to the Squid Sisters' place and educated on all things werekraken, and from there kinda becomes the krakens' caretaker/babysitter every full moon (especially after Callie starts changing, since Cal normally looked after everyone primarily).
Shit really hits the fan when Off the Hook figures out what Callie and Marie are. Marina was semi-forcefully made into a werekraken in the Octarian Army, being told that being turned would only enhance her strength and allow her to better serve the Army. Spoiler alert: it didn't entirely and caused Marina to be under intense stress every time she turned or made herself turn for medical checkups and whatnot to be done on her. In this AU krakens get stressed/scared easily and retaliate when threatened (hence the folktales about them being violent beasts), so you can imagine what happened. Because of her status as a werekraken Marina catches onto the Squid Sisters rescheduling performances and taking full moons off, and wants to reach out to them for help.
Long story short, what ends up happening is Off the Hook getting the Squid Sisters, Azure, and Mist at Pearl's place for a full moon and it goes much better than Marina anticipated (who doesn't understand how skiddish krakens are and only understands her affliction to be a violent "curse" of sorts) and the NSS agrees to educate Marina on herself, help her regulate her kraken, and let her safely and comfortably embrace it. Pearl is especially happy for Marina, who's seen how her kraken is and has always believed werekrakens aren't violent.
Time passes, full moons happen, eventually Callie finally starts transforming. It's a lot for her. Despite waiting for years for her to transform and knowing all she does about herself and werekrakens in general, her strengthened senses and instincts after transforming are extremely stressful for her. Essentially-Callie gets a smaller "plot" about accepting herself and managing her own kraken (which may or may not be even more stronger than a regular kraken as a result of her brainwashing years prior, jury's still out on that).
Time once again passes and another long story short, one particular full moon goes wrong and Shiver and Neo Agent 3 (named Sting) get turned by Marina and Callie, respectively. Now there's more people to keep watch on as they adjust to their new krakens and keeping the secret! Sting especially needs to be kept on close watch, since xey're way too excited about being turned and even let xemself get attacked so xey could be turned. The NSS is fairly certain Shiver can regulate her kraken with enough training, but they're not sure about Sting.
I imagine there's also some other "plot points" about finding a werekraken "cure" and how Callie, Marie, and Azure react to that? But not sure yet. Again, still working on things.
Overall tho, it's mostly just a werewolf AU about being keeping the secret and living life as creatures of sorts :3
#THANK YOU ALL FOR THE ASKS SJDBVKJDFBKJDVVV I LOVE TALKING ABOUT WEREKRAKENS RAAAAGHHHHSDGVJHDGSJDJ#god this isn't even like how my krakens work or anything either and this post is hella long LMAOOOOO#but yeah! this is the story so far :3#I'm not entirely satisfied with this story tho-like I'm not huuuuge on how 'edgy' marina's story is even tho it makes sense i kinda wanna#tweak it#I also originally made frye get turned by Marie but i thought shiver would be a better fit-like even in canon she acts like she's got#everything under control but no the fuck she doesn't LMAOOOO#anyway!!! hope yall enjoy all this :3#snorlasks#speaklax#werekraken au#werekraken#callie splatoon#marie splatoon#squid sisters#marina ida#pearl houzuki#off the hook#shiver hohojiro#agent 3 splatoon#agent 8 splatoon#neo agent 3 splatoon#my ocs#azure oc#mist oc#sting oc
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I have wanted to wear crop tops during the summer for years and years and for so many reasons never felt like I could/should but y'know? Dammit this summer I am going to enjoy the sun and wear a fuckin crop top
Every single butch out there doing the lord's work inspiring my confidence and many of them with my body shape and I can dedicate myself to strength training because it's /fun/ and I want to see what I'm capable of and I like the feeling of power and who give a shit if I am still square and broad and sasquatchy and working out literally only ever bulks me up and never slims me in the slightest
#this is not like a logical conclusion perhaps#but i have been thinking sm about bodies!!!#and how i want to like mine#and if i cant like it for the way it looks i want to like it for what it can do#and im so into butches with my body type so why cant i be into me!!! fr!!! like!!!#anyway gonna really work the upper body to offset the hips and so i can CARRY LARGE ITEMS#plus core work is already what im doing for my hip misalignment#and im okay to add weighs as long as it doesnt hurt my joint#so!!! strong girl!!! farm??? coming to you summer 2024#I LOVE THE SUN I DONT NEED TO HIDE MY BODY FROM IT#gym bros want what i have. rarely eats meat. builds muscle fairly easily#Idk man. like its not TONED muscle. but its EFFECTIVE#god i miss being strong#i am going to start tracking what i can lift#do an 8 week bodyweight to get back in general shape#and then proper lifting my beloved#the duality of fran#anyway u heard it here folks changing your everyday bra to sports and tank bras so u dont hate urself#literally mindset changing#also genuinely enjoy the stiff feeling the day after a workout. feels good. feels organic
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Zerimar
The gone village
this post is about the gone village of Zerimar and it’s relevance / importance to my minecraft diaries rewrite / au:
The Village of Zerimar was a peaceful place in the region of Ru’Aun. It had never known war and its people were kind. It was located roughly around here v
At a time, it was the 3rd largest village in Ru’Aun. Full of mostly humans and me’ifwa. They were rather disconnected the rest of Ru’aunian culture, much preferring their own. An important part of their culture was the use of Rune Tattoos. At birth their parents would choose a name with a meaning. They would be officially given their name and their Rune Tattoo at 1 month old by the High Shaman during their naming ceremony. This means all the people of Zerimar had magicks. Each unique and wonderful.
Being so close to O’khasis was dangerous enough on its own, but being so large and full to the brim with magicks users was a death sentence.
Garte, the lord of O’khasis, at first offered a deal. Zerimar would help O’khasis return monarchy to the land of Ru’aun and in return, the people could live their lives in peace free to govern their tiny bit of land as they always had. The lord of Zerimar refused, knowing it was wrong.
For a while, things were calm, but eventually all peace was long forgotten. Garte sent an army in the inky black of the night. Their only orders were to destroy everything and leave no survivors. Ru’aun would soon forget of Zerimar’s existence.
That night fires broke out in every building, every home. People were slaughtered unjustly and with no rhyme or reason. By the morning, the sky was black and grey and the village was far, far too quiet. The army left before the sun even rose.
Garte had believed there had been no survivors. No one to remember his sins. But there were. Few they were but they were there. Forced to leave and hide their runes but they survived.
These survivors would go on to do great things;
Like Calcifer, a boy of 14 who ran to find help as soon as the first fire started. He found a man named Björn who happened to be traveling past. They hurried back to find nothing. Years later, Calcifer began to forge great weapons, with which he imagined taking his revenge on the man who took away his family and friends.
Like Kenmur, whose family guard got him away from there as quickly as he could. He was no older than 12 at the time. He lost his family but carried on their talents, creating amazing red stone technology.
Or like Cadenza, and her sister Eseryt. Cadenza, who was only 11 herself, helped her 5 year old sister escape to the woods. She helped her climb a tree to safety then set out to find the rest of her family. Eseryt, being too young to understand, soon got restless and climbed down. she wandered trying to find her big sister but could not do so. She was found by a man and young boy by the names of Björn and Calcifer and brought her to the safety of another village, far away, where Eseryt would grow up learning to fight and create. Where she would dream of finding her sister again…
Cadenza spent hours looking for Eseryt but when the sun began to set again she figured the unthinkable had happened. She left to the forest to pick flowers to leave in town when a man and his guards arrived. At first she was scared, terrified that O’khasis had returned to finish the job, but this man was kind. He told her she was safe; word had gotten to his village, Metelli it was called, and that he’d come to collect survivors. Only… it was just her… She’d continue to grow up in a household full of people who loved and supported her. Two fathers and a brother, whom she adored. And she’d make dresses, just like she had done for her sister’s dolls all those years ago..
#hope you enjoyed the lore i’ve painstakingly created in my brain#>:)#god i worked to hard on this#anyway yeah#i thought it would be interesting if cadenza have a long lost bio sibling#oh and it’s implied in canon that kenmur and cadenza were originally from the same village#so i wanted to incorporate that#aphmau#minecraft diaries#aphmau fandom#i don’t support aphmau#mcd#minecraft diaries aphmau#mcd aphmau#aphmau mcyt#mcyt#aphblr#aphmau au#aphmau rewrite#cadenza#aphmau cadenza#cadenza mcd#aphmau minecraft diaries
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They settle and the vet rocks them, a hand playing with the braids in Warriors' hair, hums and it's okays getting kissed into his bangs.
hey so carved // hollowed by @quirkle2 made me feel emotions. hello linked universe nation
#SO AJRHBGKAJRHBL#IVE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR. HOURS#i made 90% of this while on my pain meds so if you see any mistakes no u dont <3#im SO soft for them jay you have NO idea#saw you posted a 20000 word warriors hurt/comfort fic and went OH??????? like a cartoon character#this is the first time ive ever completed a comic page too!!! man. csp frame borders were an Experience#BUT JFSBKLAHBRLAK ANYWAY#THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR FIC WITH THE FANDOM I ATE IT LIKE A BIG BOWL OF WARM SOUP#your warriors literally lands so perfectly into my Circle of Characters That I Deeply Enjoy and i love him :)#i want good things for warriors. he can have some hurt/comfort. as a treat. good for him. thank u op for my life#lu warriors#lu legend#linked universe#also i loved the part in the fic where they go to wars' era and so much of it is just so unwelcoming to him. like....#his house doesnt feel like his. his 'friends' (artemis n impa) dont feel like friends. his people arent his people. not really#and knowing that later down the line he'll be completely disowned and banished really puts it all into perspective that#maybe it was his home once. maybe when he was a child and his mother was still alive to take him by the hand and show him the warm parts#of his era. but she's long gone. and maybe the warmth went with her too. the last of it stored in his scarf.#so he'll have to find that warmth somewhere else. glad that ledge and the others can be that warmth for him. god damn#feeling emotions in this chili's tonight..... im....... Oh My God...... could ramble about this All Night#thank you quirkle :)#this is the first fandom/non oc-related thing ive drawn in years. hallelujah#i am. so tired KARJBGALKJRBLKA#GOOD NIGHT LINKED UNIVERSE NATION#blues draws#maybe that can become a more regularly used tag! perhaps. perchance to dream
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hi there! I was wondering if you could write how Farah would react if the reader got hurt because she's the commander of the ULF?
(Btw you are feeding the Farah lovers! Remember to take breaks and such if needed! 💞💞)
Hello! I'm glad to hear that! I do love writing for the girls, after all! I love them dearly and I'm glad you all do too! And I will take breaks if I need them, don't worry!
Reader got Hurt Because of Farah
I think that, although Farah is a very reasonable person and always uses her head instead of her heart, you getting hurt would be one of the few times where she would act out of emotions rather than rational thought. She can’t usually afford such a thing, no matter how distressed she may be, so it basically never happens. But the person who hurt you will come to regret ever getting close to you. She won’t go after them guns blazing, no, she’s way too smart for that. But that person will be dealt with, either immediately or after a while. Farah doesn’t forget, her memory is far too good for that. If she can see your attackers face, good. That way she can either immediately go after them or track them down by memory alone. But if she can’t see it then she’ll spare no expense in finding out who it may have been. It might take a while, but she’ll get her revenge. In fact, you getting hurt would be another big reason for her to fight her war for peace, because in her ideal world, no one gets hurt. Not you, not her brothers or sisters. However, whoever hurt you won’t live to see such a utopia. Farah won’t torture them, but she’ll make quick work of whoever they may be so that they won’t hurt anyone else near and dear to her. But of course, all of this goes once she’s certain you’re alright. Farah will call the best medics she has to make sure you’ll make it, that you’ll end up in as little pain as possible during your recovery. She won’t particularly have the time to be by your side throughout it all, but she’ll come visit you whenever she can, maybe even bringing you a recovery gift or two in the process. Always has someone check up on you. Someone she trusts will come in every once in a while and ask you how you’re doing to give her a report on your status. Yes, she may be on the frontlines fighting a war, but she always needs to know how you’re doing or else she’ll get even more nervous than she should be.
#cod#cod x reader#farah karim#farah karim x reader#the cod women lovers seem to have found me and liked me enough to want to request something from me. lovely#I am once again really tired today. work was rough and I ate some fried calamari today. the portion was so big and I'm stuffed#now I'm super tired but I have to wait until 21:20 until I can go to bed#at the time I'm writing this it's roughly 17:00 so I still have to pass a lot of time until I can finally sleep#anyway I don't have much to say as of right now#might mess around and finish the other two requests I have in my inbox today so some time will pass#I never would have thought I'd ever get into CoD but here I am and I am enjoying myself greatly#it never occurred to me before that it might have a storyline. and now I've been writing for that silly game for roughly two months now#time really does fly by. I got into it last summer actually so I haven't been a fan for too long#it's been fun. I got back into writing. but I only lost my writing spark because of vocational school. vocational school sucks so bad#had no time whatsoever for anything. had to study the entire time and had no time for my hobbies#god I'm looking forward to my apprenticeship leave exam so i never have to go there again#but enough about me on this post. sorry!
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actually am intrigued by your writing process! writing ficlets just for the exploration and all that. can you tell me more about how this works for you/how have you come up with this/all that? and do you plan on publishing the senseific ficlets somewhere in one place?
wrote a description of the entirety of how I’ve been working on sensei fic and it’s very very long, so. under the cut. (excuse my self indulgence, i absolutely could have answered this more succinctly, but i thought it would be fun (to me) to talk about my process with senseific as a whole)
I mentioned it before, but I am not a planner when it comes to writing, so I just do whatever the hell I want. and this works great since almost all my writing is short one-shots! just start on something as vague as a feeling or as detailed as a fleshed out idea and just start rolling. see how it goes. and then I go over and edit, add and cut or refine. nice and easy.
unfortunately, sensei fic doc (or rather, “yagamikuwana school au.docx” as my literal document naming goes) currently looks like this:
this includes me writing down ideas and some half formed snippets/exchanges that i’m not sure will make the cut, so it’s not an entirely accurate word count, but the point stands. it’s hardly the longest fic in the world by a long shot obviously, but for me this is uncharted territory. I just… don’t write… anything this long. ever. so sensei fic has been kind of odd because I am still very much a “just do whatever you feel like” writer, except that process has been stretched over months and months. I jump around doing different things without necessarily a coherent order, deciding depending both on what I feel like and what needs to be done
I’ll try to outline the progress behind senseific as best I remember it:
well I first had the idea during my first stint with kuwagami after LJ in 2023… I can’t say I remember much from then. I started as I always do. with an idea and a dream. I wanted mundane romance kuwagami. I one day thought about if he’d somehow stay as kitakata and still met yagami. I pushed together as many pieces together as necessary to make it work (and tried to use what was already there because it would be too difficult to make stuff up on my own) – reuse seiryo high, put it in tokyo (it would be difficult to justify having yagami regularly go to the mrc if it was in another city and he didn’t have the main case of LJ to keep him around ijincho). amasawa and the club are a natural addition and an easy way to keep kitakata and yagami around each other despite an initial distaste for each other. I had a few ideas as to some of the exchanges I wanted them to have… some ideas as to fleshing out the new setting… and I did what I usually do and just riffed.
now here’s the main part of the process that I’m sure is already obvious by my saying I’m not a planner:
I try to think through the internal logic of the au setting or come up with a fun idea I want to include -> I make a note of it or start writing it immediately (regardless of its spot in the fic) -> I see where it takes me -> review, add, cut, refine, consider it in the context of the wider fic. see if anything else comes up. use my best judgment and do whatever.
some of the earliest things I remember writing for this fic is the intro, a scene with kitakata being an annoying flirt (kitakata taking yagami's cigarette was an image that stuck in my head hard), and one of the first scenes with the mrc. since I wrote quite a bit out of order, eventually I ended up focusing on bridging, following the natural logic between the scenes I wanted to write, trying to connect things. the scene after the intro. whatever makes sense after that. go over everything, edit some more, make sure everything feels as cohesive as I can make it. (I think somewhere in the middle of this I dropped off until I got my second wind on kuwagami, where I picked it up again)
I have something like: intro (setting up the au and making it all clear to the reader as quickly as possible. probably inelegantly but it was a start), which naturally progressed to elaboration on kitakata and yagami’s relationship, a school club scene, me trying to think of another way to get kitakata and yagami in a room together, kaito and kitakata meeting, whatever progressed naturally as a result from that, etc. go back over, adding more things as I thought of them, fleshing stuff out (hello sawa sensei!) and all that. Though I’m working out of order, eventually a sequence starts to form. The beginning is the most fully formed rn, since I have the clearest idea as to how things should be when they start, and what should logically follow. I also like starting my editing from the top unless I have a specific scene in mind to look at, so I’ve read over the beginning the most times of anything else.
obviously I always had vague ideas as to progression, but now that I was starting to fill in more gaps, I had to think about it more seriously to ensure consistency between older scenes and new scenes. I rewrite a bunch of things for senseific not just as editing, but to add new context that wasn’t there previously, and in some cases totally overhaul them to better fit the tone, to adjust the overall progression. one of the scenes in the middle, which I mentally call “are you seeing anyone", is one I really enjoy, so I worked hard to adjust that to better suit the new context so I didn’t have to scrap it outright. on the other hand, kitakata’s phonecall scene is one that got the total overhaul treatment, because the tone no longer matched – kitakata was originally more… hm… disagreeable there, and it wouldn’t have worked with the way the yagami-kitakata relationship development was panning out, so I kept the bones but wrote it in a different direction. since nothing is really planned, most of this fic is in a state of perpetual flux. everything is subject to tinkering if need be.
it’s probably pointless for me to refer to specific scenes since they’re not posted publicly but. well. I guess it’ll make sense later if/when I post senseific. at least I know what I mean for now.
anyway, since a lot of my initial writing in the “do whatever you want” phase was about kuwagami and the development of their relationship, my first attempts at planning and organising are also about that (though I did try to keep the school stories plot in mind at the same time). I had to try and take what I already had and marry them together, make some kind of logical order.
around this time I was already on tumblr and posting some other kuwagamis and just generally feeling great about writing. I ended up showing four-white-trees (excuse my favouritism) some of my starting scenes on sensei fic since it had mostly settled down by then, and it was certainly by this point that I was feeling More Serious about making sensei fic not only Real (and genuinely trying to make it complete), but hopefully good, LMAO. not just some “if it happens it happens" venture. But yeah I was thinking more seriously about my details and getting some feedback on it for the first time and just. Man. Shit got real for me. I want to finish sensei fic even though I started it not knowing if I could commit.
ANYWAY. I was trying to lock in a sequence of events for the kuwagami relationship progression, ended up making a spreadsheet for my fic so I had a more digestible timeline to look at and understand what beats happen where, how I can smooth out any inconsistencies, where my gaps were. I’ll probably be coming back to that sheet to sort out school stories plot… but yeah. not just pure improvisation anymore.
more details started to creep out of the woodworks. I originally wrote something incredibly stupid that I ended up trying to twist into something serious lmao, and that is the um. Maturity/immaturity throughline.
Fuck. God this is embarrassing. But. I once, half asleep, wrote Yagami comparing Kitakata’s insensitive/rude flirting with him as being like a kid picking on his crush. and um. I read back over that later and. My god. You can’t just mention bullying with Kitakata around and not have it mean something. So, well, I tried to talk myself through it and arrived at something with meaning. Kitakata has to learn to not be an asshole with his flirting. To be mature about it and be a little sincere and honest and maybe not mock Yagami to his face. Yagami also learns that he’s being immature towards Kitakata in some ways and has to grow past that. They both have to grow up and talk like some fucking adults, and that’s how they can move on from the conflict that defines their early relationship. Yeah. And of course the school setting and bringing in Sawa and the students as other comparison points will help develop the theme some more. anyhow, it's not something I’ve fully sorted out, but my point is that I stumbled on this totally by accident. unplanned. I hope I can tease it out in an interesting way because it’s not quite there yet, but it’s funny how it went from a thoughtless line to something that I think is… surprisingly defining… just gotta stick the landing...
but yeah, the big picture kitakata-yagami relationship stuff was coming together. right now I’m at the stage where that plotting is as planned out as it can be without the school stories side being completed. the next big step is getting my notes so I can figure out a proper school story progression that I can line up with my kitakata-yagami plot, see how they fit together.
with regards to exploration writing – while writing/thinking about the main plot, a bunch of details have come up in passing. and while I can be vague and try to write around it, it feels so fake? It feels so obvious to me when I’m writing around something because I haven’t thought hard enough about it.
I was writing a scene where… hm… how much do I say here… Yagami has to come to understand that it’s personally important to Kitakata to make sure his students are okay, and with that is Sawa alluding to what happened with Mitsuru. and to be clear, she’s not so tactless to say it outright, but I knew, deep in my heart, that I was writing some non-committal bullshit. I was writing about her talking about what happened without enough knowledge myself as to how I think it changed Kitakata. So I forced myself to understand how Mitsuru changed Kitakata by writing about what happened between them. That’s the ficlet. And then I could look over what I wrote with Sawa with full perspective and decide if it really did sound the way I thought it should sound. I really enjoyed writing that as a personal piece of art, but it was very much a tool for my own understanding.
It’s something similar for Itokura and Kitakata now. Because my focus is shifting towards the school story plot, it raises an obvious question: If Kitakata was changed by the Mitsuru incident, then shouldn’t he have tried to do something about what happened to Itokura? (I am once again thanking four-white-trees for poking me) I can’t write about the relationship between these two in the main plot without a proper understanding of this. And I prefer to write than to plan, hence the sunday six wip. I start with a vague idea and write and see where it gets me. when I do that I’ll have a better understanding of how I want these two to operate, in a way that’s more detailed that my initial vague ideas.
That’s basically it. It doesn’t need to go in main fic but I have to write it so I feel I can make the right judgment calls. I’ll probably do this as much as I feel necessary, and yeah, I don’t see any reason not to post them since, unlike the main sensei fic which always has things changing around, these explorations should be locked in. I did make sensei fic stuff into a series on ao3, so I’ll keep putting them there as they come up.
#jitxt#long post#seriously i'm not joking#me when i casually write something about my process that's longer than the word count of most of my fanfiction. lmao.#THE YAPPER....#jichanmakes#kitakata sensei#shout out to “are you seeing anyone” i always get all excited to reread that part#that one and. The Ramen Shop Scene. my god. gets me every time (the end of it needs some work though)#<- what these two scenes have in common is kitakata obnoxious flirting LMAO#it's so fucking hard keeping my mouth shut because i want people to read the stuff i really enjoyed writing#BUT IT'S NOT DONE (head in hands)#anyway yeah part of why i sound so uncertain about sensei fic is because everything is subject to change#and also i get anxious and doubt myself. but also that first thing
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Image Aaravos can shape-shifting into whatever animal he wants and one time he turns into a cat just to mess with Callum ,you know the meme with the women pointing angrily at the cat ,image it but with the whole world vs Aaravos
There are 2 - things (?) being said in this questions so I'll answer this in parts---
I don't really think Aaravos enjoy morphing himself into something else due to what we have seen of him (minus ss4 I will talk abt this later, in another post probably--) He seems to prefer to create an entirely separate animal/entity to act in place of him. I do feel like he would turn into a cat if Callum ever asked, but he himself might not go out of his way to do this...especially when he's been travelling with Callum for a while -he DEFINITELY would have seen the way this boy talks to animals...
And personally I can not see someone like Aaravos enjoyed being talked to that way...at all...
However~ I do think he can just mess with Callum by being himself just fine, for example:
Callum listens to him most of the time because he's a good boy who loves and respect his master . . . I feel like this already opened up endless windows of entertainment for Aaravos lol.
2. As for the woman yelling at cat meme... I feel like this
has been done SO . MANY TIMES. BEFORE with various of characters from the show and also- I do not have the time or effort to photoshop a decent one.
BUT
may I offer you (and anyone else who's probably reading) a different experience :
is that bowl of rice floating? yes. yes it is.
I feel like this would have been hilarious to witness.
Bonus if you really want to see him as a cat I made a sketch for it during my lunar new year post right >> here << It is a sketch nonetheless so please forgive the ugliness 🤜🤛✊👊🙏
#decent asks takes me longer to answer#because I wanna put a little something something into it#I like people who are nice#so I work hard to reply to them#anyways#enjoy#it's been a long month#god#i did not expect april to hit me so hard#tdp#ask jamie#aaravos#callum#the dragon prince#tdp callum#tdp aaravos#yes yes the usual tagging procedure#this has been in my drafts for wayy too long#like 3 days i think#doodle#my art#sketches
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Seeing your trans alfendi art I realized something.... Can I ask for.. T-trans hershel..... 😳😳
YES YOU MAY!
[Image ID: A collection of digital drawings on a grey background, two colored and two just line art, of Hershel Layton, Claire Foley, Lucille and Roland Layton, Randall Ascot, and Desmond Sycamore. On the far left is a colored drawing of Hershel in profile looking in the mirror with a blank expression on his face, wearing only brown pants and a dark grey chest binder. On the far right is a similar drawing of Hershel in the same outfit, looking ahead starstruck. Claire Foley is behind him, smiling, wearing a black button-up shirt and grey pants, with her arms behind her back. She's saying "Do you like it, Hershel? Does it fit well? Be honest!" and beneath them is a small sloppy drawing of Desmond Sycamore in the RDJ meme pose, saying "He is in awe and euphoric at the affirmation of his transgender beauty and power." In the top middle of the canvas is a lined drawing of a 17 year old Hershel wearing a baggy sweater and looking down at his chest while Randall stands in front of him smiling, saying "See? The sweater trick works great! You can keep this one." In the bottom middle is a lined drawing of Hershel in his 30s, sitting down with a blanket over his legs, wearing a compression vest with blood drains attached. His parents, Roland and Lucille, have arrived to take care of him, with Lucille carrying a bag of food and calling out his name. /.End ID.]
#im so sorry this took so long. im so sorru to EVERYONE whos been sending in requests#my life has become very. well. Its A Lot right now#BUT IM WORKING ON IT! and im working through these reqs#anyways. i think this is my first time posting a drawing of claire. honest to god its a crime that i havent drawn her more#I'm sorry queen#but AAANYWAYS . TRANSGENDERISM!!!!#it feels weird drawing hersh without his hat. i do it all the time i know but still#i took away his dot eyes the hats all hes got left!#anyways#hope u all enjoy :]#art#fanart#illustration#professor layton#hershel layton#claire foley#randall ascot#lucille layton#roland layton
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I’ve never seen you talk about themes and tropes you enjoy in media and stuff like that, it’s always about how misogynistic or racist something is, which it’s totally valid of course, but I think we often forget those are not the only types of things we can take from a story. Anyways you’re totally valid for being a hater lol.
if u are referring to the stuff ive been posting lately irt tezuka its because the themes and tropes are pretty well documented but the horrors are not. and id rather any mutuals know about those rather than solely focusing on the themes being there and not addressing that, esp when those are easily found on sites like tezukainenglish or even looking up essays on the matter. i also feel that if its about this topic, it is something i bring up when its there (the one im reading rn handles a lot of anti-war themes in a really good manner and i did get into that pretty deeply in my review of it (which i havent posted yet bc its been taking a while to get through)). imo its something where it is important to discuss issues w media and id rather be getting into both that and thematics of the media vs just an analysis of it (which can tend to overlook issues). w kimba specifically, it was VERY hard to overlook the issues that were in the media as it was glaring and pretty much everywhere bc it was DRENCHED in racism. i did not want to be like ok :) heres the super good themes in this bc quite honestly it was a very miserable experience to read. my posts on tumblr are also not indicative of HOW i enjoy something or if im focusing on themes or not bc often thats something i tend to be messaging friends about as i watch/read something. i love analyzing themes and getting into the nitty gritty of a media but i also think its important to bring up issues when they are less talked about in the general fan space of it all. if you talk to me one on one you KNOW how passionate i get about themes in a story but its just not something i talk about publicly.
#asks#sorry like. longwinded bc i tend to overexplain myself but. tldr some stuff is bad. and i love to be a hater. but the “problematic” element#are never the only thing i take away from a story. i love looking for themes and analyzing media and just bc i do tend to hater post doesnt#mean that i dont do that. i prommy i enjoy and analyze stuff but dont always post about it bc i get hesitant to post about my interests#sometimes. so then i just moreso talk about what im into/enjoying w my friends vs on here :)#anyways god. sorry this is long or whatever but i did want to explain. i am a person deeply passionate about media and someone that loves#analyzing. i promise. i just dont want to be like heres my analysis of themes on a work that no one cares about. 20 pages long or whatever#lol. but its just a thing of like. i dont always post about what im enjoying/in depth analysis. but i do it or whatever.
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That moment when you realize you've adopted a new son
In the days and weeks following an incident in which a group of celestials put a stop to a catastrophic ritual that could have threatened the Prime Material, Xanthanel was tasked with figuring out the details of what had occurred there. They had been slowly and gently interrogating Zerrias, one of the only survivors of the incident, a tiefling boy who they had rescued the day of after mistaking his aura for that of a true celestial. His family had played key roles in the ritual, before they were slain by Xanthanel themself. The act of performing the rituals themselves traumatized Zerrias, who eventually refused to participate in them. Feeling guilt for being the one who separated Zerrias from his family, Xan took it upon themself to work with the kid to not only pull what information they needed, but make sure he was settled in a safe space before he'd depart permanently.
Xan learned that Zerrias was a bright kid, liked to read, and had a good sense for right and wrong, but was shy and didn't talk much. Pulling information out of him without upsetting him took patience and care, but Xan had the time. He was guarded, and slow to trust, but once Xan proved that they were not a danger the kid was more willing to give up pieces of information in and amongst other conversation and activities. Over a period of time, Zerrias' personality began to shine through, and Xan found himself more and more invested with each trip they made.
Needless to say, there was no permanent departure.
#tiefling#solar#dungeons and dragons#asharts#aiben#zeal#xanthanel#sketches#hi i havent drawn anything in weeks#and pumped this out the other night in a feverish state#work was HELL#its calmed down and im coming up on a much anticipated 2 week staycation#but dear god that one episode was a doozy to work on#and a big headache#hopefully its the last time we have a prod hiccup that bad#but i mean im stuck here till december so anything can happen lol#anyway!!! ive had this image in my head for a long time!#the moment that Xan decided oh no this is my child now#had to be the realization that zeal/zerrias didnt really have parental figures he trusted growing up#please enjoy my scribbles#i cant be bothered to clean anything up#i am simply a tired potato#who is head empty OCs only
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