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spellcastergirl · 22 hours ago

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🐉 When Two Worlds Collide, Between Here and Home 🐉

A Twisted Wonderland Malleus x Reader

Warning: pregnancy, pregnancy kink, canon divergence, alternate timeline, alternate universe, Twisted Wonderland, Malleus Draconia, x reader/insert, yandere tendencies, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, jealousy, romantic tension, domestic scenes, angst, emotional distress, crying, possessive/jealous Malleus, power imbalance (magical abilities), minor language/curse words, fluff, light humor, fanservice, reader-insert, mild sexual tension, implied past sexual activity, multiple children mentioned, portals/other world travel, mild violence implied (threats), school setting, mild character injury mention, reader self-insert, adult themes.

🎪✨Ringmaster’s pre-show ramble…✨

This little spectacle? Spawned from this ask. Did I go overboard? Absolutely. Was it fun? Utterly. I tried to keep the characters faithful to their game personalities imagining how they’d react in such a ludicrous situation under the big top. This is a fem!reader, so apologies if you were hoping for a GN version but honestly, I didn’t know how to wrangle the language without slipping into feminine terms (does that make sense, or am I just a chaotic clown?). And the dragon × human… don’t ask me how that works. It’s Disney magic. Don’t think too hard, the tent can only handle so much logic. So… does this make the reader a monster lover? (Asking for a friend. A very chaotic, glitter-covered friend.) Signed in smoke, mischief, and confetti, your Ringmaster 🎭🖤

Masterlist Part 2 sequel(coming soon)

[NRC - Courtyard]

The air shimmered faintly in Night Raven College’s courtyard. Students gathered, murmuring uneasily as the distortion of magic rippled and then snapped.

A woman stumbled into view, clutching her stomach. She wasn’t dressed like a student, nor a faculty member. Her expression was sharp, scanning the sea of familiar-yet-strange faces until her eyes landed on a tall, horned fae.

Her breath hitched.

“…Mal.”

Malleus Draconia blinked, startled. Few ever dared shorten his name, let alone speak it so boldly. But before he could ask, the woman’s gaze flicked past him. She spotted someone lingering at the edge of the crowd Lilia Vanrouge.

Her face twisted in irritation.

“LILIA!”

The shout rang across the courtyard like thunder. Every Diasomnia student snapped to attention, while others froze, wide-eyed. Even Lilia himself raised an eyebrow, caught entirely off guard.

She stormed or rather, waddled with surprising determination straight toward him. “You! Send me back right now before I lose it! My version of you is refusing to listen and if I don’t get back there to knock some sense into him, I swear—”

Lilia, amused, tilted his head. “My, my. You certainly know me well… though I don’t believe we’ve met.”

The woman let out a strangled scoff. Tears welled up, and her attention snapped back to Malleus. “Mal, please. He’s not listening. You have to do something! I’m your wife not yours exactly, but his. The Malleus in my time. I’m the mother of your children!”

The courtyard fell silent. Every student’s jaw practically hit the floor. Even Sebek forgot to shout. Silver blinked rapidly, trying to process what he’d just heard.

Malleus himself froze. His expression betrayed nothing at first only slight widening of his eyes but a current of shock rippled through him.

He approached her slowly. “…You say you are my wife?”

“Yes!” Her voice cracked. She grabbed the front of his collar with startling strength for someone heavily pregnant. Her tears streaked down her cheeks, raw and distressed. “I’m having your baby, Mal! So you better find a way to get me home, or I will riot in this school, do you hear me?!”

The intensity in her eyes fierce, unflinching left no room for doubt.

Malleus gently reached up, prying her grip free but not harshly. His voice was soft, steady. “Peace, child of man. You are with child… it is unwise to let your heart race so dangerously. Sit. Breathe. We will not abandon you.”

Crowley, who had been watching with a mix of terror and confusion, suddenly flapped his cape. “Y-Yes, yes! Very well! Everyone back to your dorms! Diasomnia will handle this!”

But no one moved. Every ear strained to catch more of the impossible claim: Malleus Draconia, married? With children?

Lilia chuckled lowly, folding his arms. “Well now… what a fascinating guest we’ve received.”

[Two Days in Diasomnia]

They settled her in Diasomnia’s lounge under careful watch. And though Crowley insisted she be left in his care, she outright refused to be anywhere without Malleus.

So, for two days, the fae prince found himself with her constant presence.

Malleus would often sit across from her, curiosity lighting his eyes as he asked questions.

“What is… my other self like?”

She groaned, pressing a hand to her swollen belly. “A bitch. He got me pregnant again like four children weren’t enough already.”

Malleus blinked, startled by her bluntness. She leaned back with a sigh. “But… he’s my bitch. And I love him. All possessive and weird, with his dragon tendencies. Even if it leads to… this.” She gestured pointedly at her stomach.

Malleus tilted his head, listening intently. There was no mockery, only quiet fascination in his gaze. “Possessive… you mean he guards you fiercely?”

“Oh, absolutely. Overprotective, jealous, dramatic. And I might’ve poked at it sometimes just because it was fun when he acted all yandere on me, he doesn’t even know what yandere even means...” She smirked at the memory. “But he’s mine.”

For a moment, silence lingered between them her words carrying a depth that even he felt.

Later, he asked, “How did you come to meet him? This… other me.”

She shifted. “I’m from here. This world. But also… not. I’m from a place called Earth. No magic, no fae. I fell into this world after i believe you….. no my you graduated NRC. I didn’t know much about the school, but Mal would talk about his time here sometimes or when I ask.”

Malleus frowned slightly. “Earth… a land without magic.”

“Exactly. And therefore, I don’t have magic. Never did, never will.”

He studied her, then murmured, “Man of child…”

She stopped mid-bite of a pastry. “A What?”

He gestured vaguely. “That is what I call Yuu.”

“…Who the fuck is Yuu?” she deadpanned.

Malleus only smiled faintly.

[Two-day to four-day stay in Diasomnia(their POV)]

The first night was chaos.

Sebek nearly fainted when Malleus personally ordered that their “guest” remain in Diasomnia.

“W-WHAT?!” Sebek’s voice nearly cracked the windows. “A STRANGE WOMAN MAKES A BOLD CLAIM OF BEING YOUR WIFE, MY LORD, AND YOU WOULD LET HER STAY IN THE DORMITORY?!”

“She is with child,” Malleus replied calmly, glancing at her as she dozed lightly on the Diasomnia lounge sofa, one hand on her belly. “It would be cruel to leave her unsettled.”

Sebek’s face went red. He opened his mouth to argue further—

“Sebek,” Silver cut in, rubbing his temples, “you’ll wake her if you keep yelling.”

“She dares to lay claim to Lord Malleus, Silver! Such impudence must not go unchallenged!”

From the sofa, YN cracked an eye open, groggy but sharp. “Sebek, right?”

The half-fae snapped to attention. “Y-YES! That is correct!”

“Shut the hell up. Pregnant woman trying to nap here.”

The lounge went dead silent. Even Silver looked up from his book in surprise.

Sebek sputtered, face burning. “Y-You—! How dare you speak to me so—!”

Lilia chuckled from his perch on the armchair. “My, my. She’s got quite the fire in her belly.” His gaze flicked meaningfully to her stomach. “In more ways than one.”

YN groaned. “I will fight you, old man. Don’t tempt me.”

Lilia’s laughter rang like bells. “Oh, I do like her.”

[Day Two]

By morning, the students of Diasomnia were whispering. Word had spread quickly: the mysterious woman clinging to Malleus claimed to be his wife from another timeline.

Whenever Malleus left her side, she grew visibly restless hand twitching, eyes scanning, until he returned.

Silver noticed first. “You calm down when Lord Malleus is near. Like… your breathing evens out.”

YN huffed, shifting in her seat. “Well, yeah. He’s my husband, technically. Even if this one isn’t mine.” She looked toward Malleus, who was quietly brewing tea at the far table, utterly composed. “It’s… comforting.”

Silver tilted his head. “Strange. Most people are afraid when he enters a room.”

“Most people don’t have four of his kids.”

Silver blinked. “…Four?”

“Five, actually,” she corrected with a scowl. “The one cooking in here makes five.”

The silence was broken only by Sebek choking on his tea.

“FIVE HEIRS TO LORD MALLEUS?! AN ENTIRE LEGACY?!” He nearly collapsed dramatically, gripping the table. “I—I cannot comprehend the honor! The glory! This—this is—”

“Sebek,” YN cut in dryly, “sit down before you pass out. You’re scaring my baby.”

[Day Three]

Lilia took great delight in questioning her.

“So, little mother,” he said cheerfully, handing her a plate of pastries, “tell me, what is our dear Malleus like in your world? Is he a doting husband? Stern? Soft?”

YN bit into the pastry, chewed, and swallowed. “He’s a bitch.”

Malleus paused mid-sip of his tea. “…A what?”

“A bitch,” she repeated, glaring at her stomach. “Got me pregnant again when four kids were already enough.”

Silver almost dropped his book. Sebek went pale, then flushed red in outrage.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF LORD MALLEUS SO CRUDELY!” Sebek roared. “SHOW SOME RESPECT!”

YN didn’t even look at him. “Pipe down, Sebek. If you knew what it was like to deal with dragon hormones, you’d call him worse.”

Lilia practically cackled. “Oh, she’s wonderful. And bold! No wonder he kept you.”

Malleus, on the other hand, tilted his head, curiosity lighting his features. “And yet, you speak with love.”

“Of course I do.” Her voice softened unexpectedly, her hand rubbing slow circles over her stomach. “He’s mine. Overprotective, jealous, yandere nonsense and all. And I love him for it.”

Malleus lowered his gaze, hiding the faintest curve of a smile.

[The Fourth Day]

At last, Lilia managed to open a portal, shimmering bright and unstable.

Students gathered once more as the woman stood at its edge. She turned to them with an awkward little wave. “Thanks for… having me, I guess.”

But before she could step forward, a figure emerged from the other side.

Taller. More commanding. His aura filled the courtyard like rolling thunderclouds.

Her eyes widened. “…Mal.”

Tears streamed instantly as she rushed forward. He caught her effortlessly, hand bracing her lower back, the other clutching her hand tight.

“Are you well? Any pains?” His voice was low, protective, the kind that dared anyone to interfere.

“I missed you,” she choked, clinging to him. “No offence to your other self.”

The Malleus of this timeline looked on, expression unreadable as his alternate self glanced up at him.

“Thank you for watching over my wife,” the elder Malleus said with calm authority. His gaze swept the gathered crowd silencing even Sebek. “But we shall be leaving now.”

With her hand in his, and his protective presence anchoring her, they stepped into the portal together.

She glanced back once more, giving the faintest wave. “Thanks again!”

And then the portal snapped shut, leaving only stunned silence behind.

[Day Four(their POV)]

By the time Lilia stabilised the portal, the entire dorm had gotten used to her presence though not without incident.

Sebek tried (and failed) to lecture her about “respecting Lord Malleus.”

Silver, in his usual sleepy candor, once offered to nap near her “just in case the baby kicked too hard.” She actually took him up on it, saying he was quieter than Sebek.

And Lilia? He seemed endlessly amused, watching her interactions like they were the best play he’d seen in centuries.

When the portal finally flared to life, even Sebek looked reluctant to see her go.

Lilia leaned down toward her as she stood with Malleus by her side. “Well, little mother, you’ve certainly made these days lively. Perhaps I should consider grandchildren in the future.”

YN side-eyed him. “Don’t you dare encourage Mal. He doesn’t need ideas.”

Lilia’s grin widened.

Then the taller, older Malleus emerged from the portal, and all comedic air drained into solemn awe. But even as she wept and clung to her true husband, the Diasomnia boys felt an odd, quiet fondness.

[Epilogue]

Diasomnia’s lounge was quiet that night.

Silver finally broke it. “…So… Lord Malleus… married? With children?”

Sebek shouted, “UNTHINKABLE! IMPOSSIBLE—!”

Lilia only chuckled, his expression unreadable as his eyes glimmered.

“Or perhaps,” he murmured, “not so impossible after all.”

To be continued….

🎪 Ringmaster’s Warning: No Copycats in This Tent 🎪

#tumblr fyp #onceuponnpc #disney twst #x reader #twst lilia #reader insert #fyp #female reader #imagine #malleus draconia x reader #sliver vanrouge #malleus x reader #twst sebek #twst silver #twisted wonderland x reader #x y/n #lilia vanrouge #sebek zigvolt

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spellcastergirl · 2 days ago

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Gentle reminder, the creative process isn’t meant to be neat or graceful. It’s messy. It’s ugly. It’s you wrestling with words that won’t come out right. But that struggle isn’t failure; it’s the work itself. Every wrong turn is proof you’re engaging with your art, proof that you're dragging it closer to what it’s meant to be. It will be hard. Nothing worth having is ever easy. It will test you. At times, even seemingly beyond your own limits. But the mess is what makes the beauty possible. So don��t fear the wrestle. Lean into it. Because that’s exactly what it means to be a creative. You've got this.✨

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spellcastergirl · 3 days ago

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Fur and Fangs

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: The Lost Boys x FelineShifter!Reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You followed them for the thrill, a silent stray with secrets stitched into your fur—but when your truth is revealed, you become more than their pet; you become their heart.

Now, the cave is yours as much as theirs. You move between worlds—whiskers and skin, purrs and promises—and they let you. Because you didn’t just find them.

You chose them.

And they’ll never let you go.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.2k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: mild language. implied sexual/intimate tension.

It began on a humid Santa Carla night, the boardwalk alive with neon and screams, the air thick with the scent of salt and sweat. A Ragdoll cat with fur like pale moonlight and smoky dusk, slipped through the chaos unnoticed. Eyes blue like sharp sea glass, tracked the world from alleys and rooftops.

Then there they were.

The Lost Boys. Four vampires cloaked in leather and rebellion, their laughter sharp as shattered glass. They moved like predators, all swagger and hunger, their presence a magnet for trouble.

You'd always been drawn to chaos, and they were its living pulse. So with small paws padding against the floor you followed, silent as a whisper, into the sunken cave they called home.

The cave was a cathedral of decay—stalactites dripping like wax, fairy lights strung through the gloom, and the faint hum of the ocean beyond. You sauntered in just before dawn, weaving between scuffed boots and trailing coats, your tail a proud banner. Marko spotted you first, crouched near a pile of salvaged junk, his curls catching the firelight.

"Yo, check it—a cat?" His voice was half-laugh, half-awe like he'd stumbled on a treasure. He reached out, then froze when you hopped onto a jagged stone seat, claiming it like a throne.

Paul sprawled on a couch, flicked his hair back, and squinted. "No way a stray looks that good. Bet she's someone's pampered princess."

You ignored him, locking eyes with David.

He sat at the cave's heart, cigarette smoldering between gloved fingers, his platinum hair glowing under the dim light. Those icy eyes studied you, unreadable but intrigued. You didn't flinch, didn't blink—just leaped into his lap with liquid grace, curling into the folds of his coat. His hand hovered, then settled between your ears, stroking with a confidence that bordered on possession.

"She's got taste," he said, voice low, a smirk ghosting his lips.

That was the beginning.

You became their shadow, their constant. The cave wasn't complete without your soft paws padding across stone or your purring weight in someone's lap. They didn't question where you came from—strays were common in Santa Carla, even ones as flawless as you. To them, you were a mystery they didn't need to unravel. You were simply theirs.

Marko, the wildest of them, took to you like a kid with a new toy. He'd slip you scraps of rare steak, grinning as you nibbled with dainty precision. "No eating animals, got it?" he declared one night, pointing at the others like a general. "Noodle is crew now. No one touches her." The rule stuck, a rare thread of mercy in their blood-soaked world.

Dwayne persistantly quiet, became your sanctuary. At dawn, when the others grew restless, he'd sit with you on a ledge overlooking the sea, his leather jacket warm under your fur. He'd read from tattered novels—Poe, Shelley, Stoker—his voice a low rumble as you dozed on his chest. He called you Luna, a name whispered like a secret.

Paul, ever the showman, dubbed you Sugarfluff with a theatrical wink, snapping his fingers as you passed. "Look at you, stealing hearts like a pro," he'd tease, tossing you a lazy salute. You'd flick your tail, unimpressed, but his laughter was infectious.

David never named you. He didn't need to. His lap was your domain, his gloved hand your summons. You'd leap up without hesitation, claiming the space as if it had always been yours. He'd stroke your fur in silence, his touch both command and invitation. In those moments, you were his anchor, the one thing in his endless nights that didn't demand blood.

You weren't just a cat. You were their center, their unspoken vow. They didn't know you were listening, watching, choosing them as much as they chose you.

But secrets don't stay buried in a cave full of vampires.

It was a rare early return from the boardwalk, the boys bursting in with the scent of blood and salt on their coats. You thought you'd have hours alone, time to stretch into your true self. So you'd shifted, letting your feline form melt away. Human again, you lounged in David's chair, legs draped over the arm, the firelight casting shadows across your bare skin. One of their long coats—Marko's, by the smell of paint and leather—hung loosely over your shoulders, a makeshift robe.

The cave door swung open, and they stopped dead.

Four pairs of eyes—gold-flecked, predatory—locked onto you. The air thickened, heavy with shock and something darker.

Paul broke the silence with a nervous laugh. "Holy shit, Sugarfluff? You're—you're a babe?"

Marko's mouth hung open, his hand still clutching a half-eaten burger. "I fed you steak."

Dwayne's gaze was steady, assessing, but not hostile. "A shifter," he said, voice soft but certain, like he'd pieced it together in seconds. He'd heard about them in the native stories back when he was young.

David didn't move. His cigarette burned, forgotten in his hand, ash drifting to the floor. His eyes, cold and piercing, held yours—not with anger, but with something deeper, sharper. Ownership.

You rose slowly and deliberately, the coat slipping slightly to reveal the curve of your collarbone. "I've been around longer than you think," you said, voice smooth as velvet, carrying the same confidence you wore in fur. "I chose this place. Chose you."

The silence stretched, taut as a wire.

Then David stepped forward, closing the distance in three measured strides. His gloved hand brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering at your jaw. "You've been ours this whole time," he said, not a question but a claim, his voice low and final.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze without flinching. "And you've been mine."

Marko let out a whoop, breaking the tension, his arm slung around your shoulders like you were already family. "Hell yeah, she stays! Shifter or not, she's one of us."

Paul grinned, leaning against the wall with a mock swoon. "A hot chick that's a cat? I'm in love. Sugarfluff's still my girl."

Dwayne's lips curved, a rare smile softening his edges. "You kept our secrets. You're family."

David's hand settled on your waist, his grip firm but not forceful. His eyes searched yours, and in them, you saw the weight of his decision—not just to let you stay but to bind you closer. "You're not going anywhere," he murmured, and the words were a promise, a chain, a vow.

Now, the cave feels alive in a new way. You shift freely, one moment a Ragdoll curling atop David's throne, the next a woman laughing in Paul's arms or trading quiet words with Dwayne by the fire. They still hunt and still revel in their immortal chaos, but they come back to you. Always to you.

You are their secret, their heart, their queen in fur and flesh. And in the shadowed depths of the cave, where the ocean whispers and the fire burns low, you know one truth above all:

No one will ever take you from them.

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spellcastergirl · 3 days ago

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Make your vampires fun!!!

Heya its been a minute since I uploaded here

but I got an interesting one for you!

Vampire anatomy! Why make them exactly like humans? experiement! I made them Apex preditors worthy of the title. Here's what I did:

[NOTE: There will be lots of teeth and bodies without clothes but nothing explicitly exposed / more like an empty base] [EXTRA NOTE: All drawings shown are rough drafts rather than final, so excuse any minor mistakes in the art] keep reading to see my vampire anaomy!! ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

CONTEXT! Vampires in my world are entirely seperate to humans. They share an ancestor, but they evolved differently so they count as a seperate sub-species. A human to vampire conversion is possible but the result is nowhere near close to actual vampire anatomy. They do change to have aspects of vampires, but not as extreme. I shall show them soon! First up, the height!

I made Vampires siginificantly taller than humans. This is more of a rule-of-cool design aspect but it also does serve a purpose! Bigger usually means stronger and faster, which is ideal for hunting down those pesky humans. It also allows us to play with the proportions, as you can already see.

First up, I gave the vampires a much wider rib-cage, allowing them to have more air capacity. (They're longer too but the angle makes it seem shorter) → This means their stamina increases while running, and improve how long they can survive underwater. I also made the limbs strech out, like in the arms and legs. As well as making the bones thicker in some areas. → This not only adds to their height, but also increases speed - especially in long distance running. Because of both of these factors, it means most vampires will not only be able to catch up to / keep up with humans, but also overtake them easily. The increased air flow helping in their chase, on land and in water.

As with human skeletons, Vampires also have a variation between biological males and females. Mostly in the pelvis and ribs. NOW ONTO THE CHOMPERS!!

→ Vampires can extend their jaw down much further than any human. Which combined with their jaw strength makes any powerful bite from them a leathal force! → Their teeth structure is also obviously changed to fit the fangs. The fangs pertrude slightly, and the bottom teeth are angled to accommodate them.

That's all for now! But already I've taken a human and changed around their structure, skeleton, muscles and jaw to make them a more believeable threat. Already they look very different, and I hope to keep exploring their anatomy, alongisde my other monsters as well.

let me know if this was interesting.

#digital art #drawing #character design #vampire #artists on tumblr #;Cupid #;cupid #vampire art #vampirism #vampiric #vampire character #vampire oc #vampire anatomy #anatomy #writing #creative writing #story #vampire story

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spellcastergirl · 3 days ago

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Me: *spiraling*

The outline: uh... ma'am? I actually said the character was supposed to go that way... but... it's okay. You do you, girl. You do you.

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spellcastergirl · 3 days ago

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When I find my inspiration, I love writing.

When I hit my writers block, I hate everything about it.

#writing #writer #writers block #writing community #writers #creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writer stuff #writing life #writeblr #ao3 writer

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spellcastergirl · 3 days ago

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Writing Notes: Literary Conventions

Literary Conventions - the features of a literary work that define its genre.

These elements can be tropes, arcs, clichés, or certain devices that help distinguish how your audience will classify your literary text.

For instance, people interested in romance novels are often looking for a happy ending and unconditional love between the main love interests.

Science fiction readers will expect to see subject matter dealing with aliens, creatures, space, robots, or futuristic technology.

People who are reading a tragedy might expect some sort of betrayal or death to occur in the work.

Types of Literary Conventions

There are a few literary conventions that can easily define the piece of text you’re reading, such as:

Betrayal in tragedy: In many of Shakespeare’s plays—from tragedies like Hamlet, to Macbeth, to Julius Caesar—the main character’s trust is violated, which is revealed to the audience through dramatic irony. This usually leads to the main character’s demise.

Weddings and engagements in comedies: Many modern-day and classic comedies end with a wedding as a way to restore our characters’ lives to equilibrium. Every Shakespearean comedy ends in at least one wedding, as do most of Jane Austen’s romances. Countless comedy films—including Runaway Bride and Bridesmaids—end in weddings.

A Greek chorus: Many of the Greek tragedies contain a three-person chorus—made up of a few characters who are uninvolved in the plot—that provides background information and plot commentary through a series of direct asides to the audience. In modern film and literature, Greek choruses may add levity or self-awareness to a serious or tragic work.

Deus ex machina: In literary terms, deus ex machina is a plot device used when a seemingly unsolvable conflict or impossible problem is solved by the sudden appearance of an unexpected person, object, or event. Deus ex machina does not have to refer to a literal machine—it can be the emergence of a new character, a surprising use of magic, or even the realization that “it was all just a dream.”

Stock characters: Stock characters, also known as archetypal characters, provide clear signs of the kind of work that you might be reading. In detective stories, the curious “believer” character will often stumble down a rabbit hole, accompanied by their skeptical partner. In a hero’s tale, there might be a bumbling sidekick who helps to underscore the protagonist’s competency. In a romantic comedy, a romantic protagonist might end up with the “best friend” character who has been under their nose the entire time, in spite of pining for someone else the whole story.

Literary Conventions vs. Literary Devices

Literary conventions help to categorize a text within its specific literary genre.

A literary device is a figure of speech that heightens imagery or textual interpretation.

Common literary devices include simile, personification, euphemism, flashback, alliteration, oxymorons, or hyperbole.

While literary conventions can help set the tone and expectations for a work of literature, literary devices deal with the experience of the language and interpretation of the narrative.

However, some devices, like soliloquy or foreshadowing, can help to categorize a genre like certain literary conventions.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#literary conventions #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing notes #light academia #writing ideas #writing resources

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spellcastergirl · 3 days ago

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Use body language to liven up a scene

If a scene feels lifeless, look at what your characters’ hands are doing. Hands often reveal the truth before words do. Actions like fidgeting, gripping, smoothing, and hiding can often say a lot about a character and their state of mind.

You can expand this out to all kinds of body language. Your characters can speak in more ways than just words.

#writblr #writing tips #writing advice #writing community #writers of tumblr #writers #writing #creative writing #creative writers #writeblr #writerblr #writing inspiration #writing help #writer #writers on tumblr #writing resources #writers and poets

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spellcastergirl · 3 days ago

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Hey!! I love your writing so so much, especially your vampire works and I’d LOVE you to write more! Only if you want ofc!

"You want me to turn them," the vampire said. Their head tilted as they eyed the human. "It won't save them."

"They'll be alive."

"Turning is a transformation," the vampire said, "they won't be the same."

"They'll be alive." How was that so impossible for the creature to understand? The human wanted to shake them, make them bleed, make this still and beautiful thing remember what the grotesque terror of death was. They wanted to lead the vampire to the hospital bedside, force them to listen to the rasping breaths and violent retches, the indignity of a person unravelling, and dare them to refuse. "I'll pay any price you want!"

"You won't be the one paying it," the vampire said. Gentle, but cold, like snow that just kept coming. Fun and lovely until the chill killed anyone who stayed in it too long. "Is this what they want?"

"Of course it is," the human snapped. "They'll be alive."

"No. They'll be undead."

"I bet it's easy to be sanctimonious and pedantic when you have forever to finish working the stick properly up your ass!"

The vampire raised their eyebrows, at that. They turned away.

The human seized them by the wrist and, in an instant, they were pressed against the wall. Toes barely scraping the floor. A vampire's icy hand wrapped around their throat. A vampire's fangs bared in their face with a hiss that was more feline than human. The human's eyes bulged.

They'd devoured every story they ever could about vampires. Some true, a thousand not, in their hunt for the elusive creature before them. Of course, they knew there were costs. Having to drink blood. Never being able to see the sun. But...

For the first time, it properly struck them that the vampire in front of them was not human. Not anymore.

A human might be able to pin them against a wall, might be able to be intimidating, but they did not have those teeth. A human might be cold and exquisite and dangerous, but the vampire didn't look at them with a human's danger. Not when the facade was peeled back. All of the hairs on the back of the human's neck were on end.

Or, maybe, it was exactly human. The animal, feral bits of humanity that they tried to pretend were long since replaced by reason and civilisation.

The grief in the human's chest felt animal. Felt snarling, bloody-mawed, a wounded monster backed into a corner.

Despite everything, they still itched to claw, as if their blunt and pitiful nails could carve a slither of immortality off the vampire like a slice of roast beef.

Then the rage was gone from the vampire's expression, and they were as smooth as an iced-over lake.

"Do you think," the vampire asked, "that in the history of the world you are the first human to beg me for a miracle? I have no miracles. I have no salvation for you. I am not the god left behind in this godless world when all your faith has forsaken you."

"Then give me what I ask for, because you have no right to decide who lives or dies."

"And you do?"

"Please," the human still said, through gritted teeth. "Do you want me to kneel? Do you want blood? I'll - anything. I'll give you anything. Just save them. Please."

"Why?"

"They deserve to live."

"So do a lot of people. What makes them so special?"

"What made you so special?" the human hissed right back.

The vampire smiled.

"You love them," the vampire said.

"Yes."

"You can't bear the thought of living without them, even if it is the natural order of things, even if you would destroy them and condemn to a half life to keep them. This is not about them. It is about you."

The human swallowed.

The vampire carded the fingers of their free hand tenderly through the human's hair, down along their temple, their quivering jaw to catch the salty betrayal of a tear.

"I'd be doing you a favour by killing you, wouldn't I?" the vampire asked, sweetly. "Then you would not have to mourn them. You would not have to be alone, needing something and someone who isn't there anymore. Who will never be there for you again."

The human's stomach lurched, but the smallest part of them wondered if that wouldn't be good, wouldn't be right. Dying hurt. Loss hurt. Would death hurt? They couldn't be sure, they only knew that their heart was pounding and the other parts of them screamed that death was not an abyss they wanted to fall into any time soon.

The vampire's grip on their throat tightened. They leaned in, sharp fangs scraping along the line of the human's neck.

The human whimpered, despite themselves. Their eyes squeezed shut. More tears spilled down their cheeks.

"Please," they said, and they no longer quite knew what they were asking for. Only for the vampire to fix it.

The vampire bit down. They drunk from the cup of life as if they were as thirsty for it as the human was, as any patient in the hospital was, as if they were not an immortal thing at all.

At some point, they knelt, like the human was an altar to worship by. Sharp teeth went from their throat to their thighs and for the first time since the diagnosis the world felt blissfully far away.

It struck the human that they were dying.

They didn't remember crumpling. The vampire's eyes shone like pinpricks of light in the darkness. The vampire's mouth was a monster's mouth, before a delicate hand wiped the blood daintily away, like lipstick smudged after an illicit affair.

The vampire cradled their lolling head.

They were quiet, for a beat, as the human's breath came raspy and struggling and too loud.

Then, "which hospital are they at?" the vampire asked.

The human told them, and the vampire disappeared, like myth, into the night.

#vampires #vampire #vampirism #vampire story #writeblr #short story #ficlet #writing snippet #writing #original fiction #creative writing #story snippet #grief

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spellcastergirl · 4 days ago

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me rereading my comic

"This chapter is my favorite" "No, this one" "Shit, it's actually this one" "Wait, this one is better than I remember"

#phantomarine #webcomics #comics #writing #man what a fun journey

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spellcastergirl · 5 days ago

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For young writers...YOU DON'T NEED TO WRITE A BOOK.

If you want to, that's completely different and I admire a lot of writers for walking towards or have already accomplished that goal. I'm just saying don't let that 'aesthetic' pressure you into the same.

Being published authors was one of my biggest dreams that a lot teen writers have as well. But as I grew older, writing felt more like a hobby than a passion, and I was more interested in other forms of storytelling, like screenwriting. But because the vast majority of the teen writer community (and writers in general) had a goal to get published, I felt out of place because at this point I neither planned nor wanted to make profit off my work. At least, not anymore.

And I also felt so guilty because it felt mandatory. Like writing a book was a priority while meanwhile I had a plethora of short stories and fanfiction that clearly showed my talent and skill. And trying to force myself to rush into the process and push my limits would have landed me a psychiatric hospital if I finally didn't say that's enough.

Try to thrive in the level you are now. If writing a book is that, go for it! If it isn't', if you enjoy writing just poetry, essays, fanfiction, flash fiction, short stories, etc, that is COMPLETELY VALID and no one has the right to say otherwise.

#teen writer #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing #writeblr #on writing #writers #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #young writers

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spellcastergirl · 5 days ago

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「 BOOTHILL WITH DISSOCIATIVE S/O 」

pairing: boothill x gender neutral reader

tags: gender neutral reader, no agab mentioned, no path/abilities mentioned, sfw scenarios

warnings: stressed out reader, coping mechanisms, mental illness, hurt/comfort, mentions of boothills past, mentions of his dead daughter-. not proof read.

request: hi, can i request boothill from hsr with a gender neutral reader who tends to dissociate under stress? sometimes they may be zoned out for several minutes or a couple hours, sometimes laying in bed for hours thinking of nothing and not noticing time pass. particularly wondering how boothill would accommodate and gently help to ground them when they lose focus. (original request found here.)

word count: 471

a/n: I too dissociate under stress I’m ngl, I also have adhd which makes it worse rip. this is a lovely prompt to do.

Boothill has lived for a long time, he’s been a father, he’s been to many planets, seen many things. He’s seen some horrifying things, heartbreaking, and hilarious. He’s seen it all. He’s lived it all. So when he started to get to know his lovely travel companion and realized they struggle with dealing with stress and tend to dissociate, he doesn’t judge.

How could he? When he lost his whole world, his daughter, he had moments where we just—existed. No perception of time, no perception of things around him. And sometimes the stress can be too much for his wiring to keep up with. He’s more familiar with your predicament than you may realize.

It didn’t bother him when you two were friends, and it doesn’t bother him when you two become more. He quickly learned your tells and asked you how you wished for him to handle it. When you informed him what works best and what you’re comfortable with, he made sure that information was seared into his brain.

When he catches you drifting away when you’re out and about, he will do his best not to bring attention to you. He will give your hand a squeeze, hold your leg reassuringly, or if the situation was bad enough, gently pardon y’all and drag you away to an area he can properly work on grounding you. As wild as he is, he’s gentle with you in these moments, doing his best to coax you awake.

His hand on your cheek, staying eye level with you. “Y/n? Darling can you hear me? Darn it. You’re safe, I need you to come back now.”

He knows that won’t always work though, sometimes when your dissociation gets bad enough it can be paralyzing. No amount of coaxing and gentle kisses can bring you back. Those are the moments where you’re usually stuck in bed from hours to even days. He takes these moments seriously. He will take as much time off as needed.

He will make you food, hand feed you, change your clothes. If you consent prior, he will carry you to the bathroom and bathe you in the bathtub. The most endearing thing about this? He will yap the entire time, about whatever. Old stories, complaints about people he ran into, wildly cursing and making exaggerated movements. He never talks too loudly though.

When he notices a flicker of grounding in your eyes, he will latch onto that with all his might. Instead of just yapping, he will talk to you directly. He will use physical sensation to help bring you down more. Play with your hair, caress your cheek, draw shapes on your back. Whichever will work best.

And once you’re back, he will give you a toothy grin. “That’s my baby! I knew you could do it.”

main hub ✦ masterlist ✦ to do list

#boothill x reader #boothill x gender neutral reader #boothill x gn reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x gn reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x gn reader #hsr x reader

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spellcastergirl · 5 days ago

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Night Ride

possessive!bucky barnes x reader

summary: you’re being a brat on a car ride so you leave bucky no choice but to put you back in your place.

word count: 4k

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. smut, mean!bucky curse words, dirty talk, degrading kink, rough sex, spanking, dry humping, fingering, oral (m receiving), PiV, unprotected sex, overstimulation, breeding, creampie. fully consensual by both parties although not explicitly stated.

A/N: this one’s for all the horny girlies in my inbox. i love you and i hope you’re satisfied 💋 also i can’t be bothered to proofread this so…

The ride had been quiet at first. Uncomfortably quiet.

You’d been fighting all day. Something stupid, something that should’ve blown over hours ago, but neither of you had wanted to give in. Every word had been clipped, every glance laced with leftover frustration.

Now, with the night stretching out ahead of you and the road humming under the tires, it hung in the air like smoke. Bucky’s hand was clamped on the wheel, knuckles pale, his jaw tight enough to crack. He hadn’t looked at you once since you got in the car.

And maybe you should’ve left it alone. Maybe you should’ve just stared out the window, let the silence sit heavy between you until it faded on its own.

But you were restless. Stubborn. And if you were being honest—you hated the way he was ignoring you.

You could practically feel the storm rolling off him. Which, of course, made you want to poke at it.

You slid your hand and let it rest on his thigh, gently caressing it. He shifted in his seat.

“Cut it out,” Bucky muttered, not looking at you.

You grinned, leaning your head back against the seat like you hadn’t heard him. A few miles later, your fingers traced the seam of his jeans, slow, deliberate.

“Don’t start,” he warned, voice sharp this time.

You hummed, biting back a laugh. “Why not? You’re so tense, baby. Driving all serious. Thought I’d help you loosen up.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened until the leather creaked. “Not the fuckin’ time.”

That only made you bolder. Your hand dragged higher up his thigh, nails scraping just enough to make him twitch. You leaned closer, lips brushing his shoulder as you whispered, “Don’t tell me you’re scared you’ll lose control.”

He inhaled hard through his nose, knuckles white on the wheel.

You smirked, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “C’mon, Sergeant. You’re always in control, right?”

He slammed the brakes so hard the seatbelt locked against your chest, your breath catching. Gravel spat out from under the tires as he swerved off the road, yanking the car into park.

Before you could even process, his door flew open. You blinked, wide-eyed, watching him stalk around the hood, jaw clenched, shoulders broad and heaving.

Then your door wrenched open.

“Get out,” he ordered, voice low, dangerous.

You stared at him, heartbeat tripping. “What?”

His eyes cut to yours, sharp and burning. “I said get the fuck out.”

A hand tangled in your hair before you could argue, the sting making you gasp as he dragged you out of the passenger seat. You stumbled after him, the cool night air biting your skin, but he didn’t give you time to steady yourself. He yanked the back door open and shoved you forward.

You landed on your hands and knees against the leather seats, breath rushing out of you. The position left you exposed, waiting, your pulse pounding in your throat.

The door slammed shut behind you, and then he was there—towering over you, crowding into the small space. His hand pressed between your shoulder blades, forcing your spine to arch, your ass pushed up toward him.

“Wanted to help me loosen up, huh?” he rasped, metal fingers spreading over your hip, grip unrelenting. „Yeah, I’ll make fucking sure to use you and your stupid cunt properly. Gonna make you take it.”

His hand clamped on your hip, holding you in place as you tried to shift on the seat. The leather squeaked under your palms.

Then you felt it—fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down in one rough pull. The night air rushed over the newly exposed skin, and before you could take a breath, he slapped you.

His palm landed hard across your ass, the sound sharp in the confined space. You gasped, jerking forward, but his metal hand pressed firmly between your shoulders, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he growled, voice dark against your ear.

“Buck—“

Another slap, harder this time. Your knees dug into the seat as you whimpered, but the sound only made him chuckle low in his chest.

“You think you can wind me up all day, tease me while I’m driving, talk back like you don’t know better?” His hand smoothed over the sting, slow, taunting—before striking again, making you jolt. “You wanted my attention? Congratulations, doll. You’ve got it.”

“Bucky, I—” you started, voice breaking as your cheek pressed into the seat.

His laugh was humorless, sharp. Another slap cracked across your ass, harder than before, making you yelp.

“You what?” he snarled, his hand gripping your hip tight. “You’re such a fuckin’ whore you can’t even sit through an hour-long drive without begging for my cock?”

The sting burned, tears pricking your eyes, but the heat flooding your core betrayed you.

He leaned over you, his vibranium hand sliding up, wrapping firmly around your throat. In one rough pull he dragged you upright, your spine arching as he hauled you back against his chest. His grip wasn’t choking you yet but it was tight enough to remind you who was in control.

You could feel him pressed against you, thick and unyielding through his jeans, grinding into the curve of your ass. The low growl that rumbled in his chest vibrated against your back.

“Feel that, doll?” he rasped against your ear, breath hot. His metal fingers flexed at your throat, keeping you pinned in place as his hips rolled slow, deliberate. “That’s what you did to me. All day. All fuckin’ day.”

His hips ground into you, slow and punishing, the hard length of him rubbing against you through the thin barrier of clothes. You couldn’t help the sound that slipped out, and that was his breaking point.

With a growl, his grip on your throat released, only to fist in your hair again. He shoved you forward, forcing you down. Your cheek hit the seat with a soft thud, the leather cold against your flushed skin.

“Ass up,” he barked, his palm striking your hip when you didn’t move fast enough.

You scrambled to obey, arching your back, presenting yourself exactly the way he wanted. His hand pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, pinning you there, while the other smoothed over the curve of your ass as if inspecting his work.

“Good girl,” he muttered darkly, almost to himself—before landing another stinging slap that made your body jolt against the seat.

You barely had time to breathe before his hand was on you again, yanking your panties to the side with no patience, the fabric biting into your skin. The cool air hit your heat for a split second—then his fingers were there.

He didn’t ease you into it. Two thick fingers shoved inside in one rough thrust, the stretch sudden, almost too much, pulling a ragged cry from your throat. His other hand stayed heavy on your back, pressing you down into the seat when your hips jerked at the intrusion.

“Already soaked,” he growled, fucking his fingers into you hard, the wet sound obscene in the cramped space. “Goddamn slut, acting like you didn’t want this all day.”

You whimpered, the sound muffled against the leather, and he laughed, low and mean. His pace was merciless, curling just enough to make your thighs tremble, his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust.

“Look at you,” he sneered, thrusting harder, rougher. “So desperate you’re dripping all over my hand. Couldn’t shut your mouth in the car, had to run your mouth, had to tease me. This what you wanted, doll? To get fucked like a dirty whore in the backseat?”

Another curl of his fingers made your body clench around him, and he hissed through his teeth, grinding against you from behind as if he couldn’t take it much longer either.

His fingers pounded into you until you were gasping, your nails clawing at the leather seats. Then he stilled, pulling them out suddenly and leaving you clenching around nothing.

“Maybe I need to teach you how to shut your mouth, huh?” he rasped, voice thick with lust and anger.

Before you could answer, he grabbed you by the hair again, yanking you upright and flipping you onto your back in the cramped space. The world tilted, your spine pressing into the seat, legs still tangled in your jeans. He pulled you up and eventually you landed on your knees and palms, facing him.

His hands were already at his belt, jerking it open with a metallic clink. The sound sent a shiver down your spine. His zipper came next, quick and rough, and then he was looming over you, cock heavy in his hand as he stroked himself once, twice, eyes burning into yours.

“Open,” he ordered, thumb dragging across your bottom lip.

Your lips parted instinctively, and he shoved himself past them with a guttural groan, forcing you to take him deep right from the start.

“That’s it,” he growled, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust into your mouth, pace rough, unforgiving. “Fuckin’ knew it. My girl can’t keep quiet unless I stuff her full.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his cock hit the back of your throat, your hands scrambling for purchase on his thighs. He hissed, watching your lips stretch around him, the obscene sounds filling the car.

“Look at you,” he sneered, pulling back just enough to let you gasp a shaky breath before shoving himself back in. “Such a good little slut when I use you like this.”

His grip in your hair was unrelenting, dragging your head back just enough so he could watch himself disappear between your lips again. The stretch burned, your throat working around him as he forced himself deeper.

“Fuck, look at you choking on it,” he groaned, hips snapping forward with brutal rhythm. Every thrust made your eyes water, spit slicking your chin, the wet sounds obscene in the car.

When you tried to pull back for air, his metal hand shot up, clamping around your throat, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. “Nah, doll. You wanted my attention, now you’re gonna take it.”

Your whine vibrated around him, and he hissed, his cock twitching against your tongue. He let up just enough for you to suck, your cheeks hollowing, before he slammed forward again, making you gag.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, hips grinding against your mouth. “So needy you can’t stop drooling for it. That’s all you’re good for, huh? My mouthy little slut with her lips wrapped around my cock.”

He pulled out suddenly, a string of spit connecting your lips to his length, leaving you gasping and messy, tears streaking down your cheeks. His thumb swiped the corner of your mouth, pressing into your spit-slick lips as his chest heaved.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, but his cock was throbbing in his hand as he stroked himself, smearing your spit along his length. “Bet you’re soaking that pretty pussy while I use your throat.”

Then his hand was back in your hair, shoving you down on him again, deeper this time, until your nose pressed against his stomach and your throat spasmed around him. He held you there, groaning low in his chest.

“Take it,” he snarled, voice rough. “Take it all like the little whore you are.”

Your throat burned when he finally tore himself out of your mouth. He stared down at you like a man starved, pupils blown wide. His thumb brushed across your messy mouth before he grabbed the waistband of your panties and ripped them down your thighs in one impatient pull, tossing them aside.

Then his hand was on your jaw, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “I wanna see your face while I fuck you,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked.

He shoved you back onto the seat, your body sinking into the leather, legs spread wide as he crawled over you. The cramped space didn’t matter.

His cock dragged over your entrance, slick with spit and precum, and you whimpered at the tease. His hand pressed against your throat again, thumb stroking the frantic pulse there as he lined himself up.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his hips snapping forward, burying himself inside you with one rough thrust.

Your cry broke against his mouth as he swallowed it in a bruising kiss, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of expression as he stretched you wide.

“Look at me,” he demanded, pulling back just enough to drive himself into you again, harder this time. “Don’t you fucking dare look away.”

His thrusts were brutal, slamming you back into the leather with every snap of his hips. The car rocked with the force, his chest pressing into yours, his hand tight around your throat as he fucked you deep.

You tried—you really tried—to hold his gaze. His eyes were wild, burning into you, demanding every ounce of you. But the pleasure was overwhelming, sparks running up your spine with every rough stroke, and your lids fluttered shut.

The sharp crack of his palm against your inner thigh made you yelp, your eyes flying open.

“Don’t,” he growled, his voice ragged but merciless. His hips didn’t slow, pistoning into you hard enough to steal your breath. “I told you to look at me.”

“I—” your voice broke, tears welling from the sting and the force of him.

“Say it.” His grip shifted, metal fingers digging into your thigh where he’d slapped you, holding you open for him. “Apologize.”

“I—I’m sorry,” you gasped, nails raking down his back, trying to ground yourself against the relentless pace.

His teeth grazed your jaw, his lips brushing your ear as he hissed, “That’s right. You’re sorry. But you’re still gonna take every inch of me while you look me in the eye like a good girl.”

He tilted your chin up with his vibranium hand, forcing your gaze back to his, his cock driving into you so deep you could barely breathe.

His thrusts were merciless, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the car, your body bouncing with every rough snap of his hips. His hand on your throat kept you steady.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” he snarled, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple. “Teasing me, mouthing off, winding me up all day just so I’d fuck you like this. You feel good?”

Your mouth fell open, words tumbling out broken and breathless. “S’full…”

A low, guttural groan ripped from his chest, his hips grinding deeper into you, burying himself to the hilt. “Damn fucking right,” he growled, eyes locked on your wrecked expression. “Your tight little hole is taking me so well.”

He gave a sharp thrust that made you cry out, his lips curling into a dark grin. “Made for me, doll. Made to squeeze my cock till I lose my goddamn mind.”

He could feel it—the way your walls clenched down around him tighter, your nails digging into his shoulders, the desperate little sounds breaking past your lips.

“Mm, there it is,” he rasped, grinning down at you like he’d just won. His pace stayed brutal, unrelenting, driving you closer with every thrust. “You’re close, aren’t you? My greedy little slut’s about to fall apart.”

You whined, head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure surged hot and unbearable.

The sharp sting of his palm came down on your thigh again, jolting you back into focus. His hand on your throat flexed, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Eyes on me. You don’t get to come unless I say so.”

Your lips trembled. “B-Bucky, please—”

He let out a dark laugh, hips grinding deep inside you, holding you there, cock pulsing against your walls. “Please what? You want to come? Say it. Beg for it, doll.”

“I—fuck—I need it,” you gasped, hips bucking against his, chasing every bit of friction. “Please, Bucky, I need to come—please let me—”

He groaned at the sound of your voice breaking, his cock twitching inside you. His forehead pressed to yours, sweat slick, eyes burning into you.

“That’s it,” he growled, pounding into you harder, rougher, making the car rock on its axles. “Beg for me. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Y-you,” you gasped, voice high and broken, “I belong to you, Bucky—please—”

That snapped the last thread of his restraint. His teeth bared in a groan, his hips slamming into you with devastating force. “That’s my girl,” he growled, the words rough, wrecked. “Come for me. Right now.”

The command ripped through you like lightning. Your body seized, walls clamping down around him as your orgasm tore through you, hot and overwhelming. You cried out his name, nails raking down his back, every nerve on fire.

But he didn’t stop.

Even as your body shook, even as your thighs trembled and you tried to wriggle away from the relentless stimulation, he kept pounding into you, each thrust harder, deeper, forcing your body to take it.

“Too much?” he sneered, hand tightening on your throat as he dragged your hips higher against him. “No, baby. You wanted this. You begged for this.”

Your cries turned into broken sobs of pleasure as the overstimulation burned, your body clenching again against your will. His cock pulsed inside you, dragging every aftershock into something sharper, unbearable.

His metal hand clamped your hip, pinning you in place, forcing you to take every inch. His mouth pressed against your ear, his voice low and feral.

“I’m not gonna stop until you cream my cock, you hear me?” he snarled, punctuating the words with a savage snap of his hips that made you cry out.

“Bucky—please—” you whimpered, the overstimulation bordering on unbearable, your walls fluttering helplessly around him.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Milk me, doll. Soak me. I wanna feel this tight little pussy gush all over my cock.”

Your cries turned desperate, pleasure mounting again despite the tears streaking your cheeks. He shifted, grinding deep into that perfect spot, and your whole body jolted.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed, eyes locked on your face, watching you unravel. „Give it to me.”

Your body quaked, walls clenching down impossibly tight around him as your second orgasm ripped through you, dragging a strangled cry from your throat. Your hands fisted in the leather, nails scraping his back as waves of pleasure slammed over you again and again.

He didn’t relent—he held you there, grinding mercilessly, riding your orgasms like they were fuel to his fire. You could feel him twitch, his hips stuttering as the pressure built impossibly high.

“Look at you,” he groaned, voice thick, rough, lost in lust. “Such a fucking whore. So fucking good. Taking me while you’re still coming…”

Then, with a guttural roar, he gave one final brutal thrust, hips snapping hard, and his release ripped through him, hot and deep inside you. His cock pulsed, filling you completely, leaving you trembling and soaked with the evidence of him buried inside your tight little cunt.

You were spent, shivering from the intensity, your body still clenching reflexively around his throbbing length. His chest heaved against yours, breath ragged, hand still firm on your hip.

Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled out, leaving you empty for just a heartbeat. His eyes flicked down, drinking in the mess you’d both made, then snapped back up to yours, dark and demanding.

“Buck—?” you whimpered, breathless, heart still racing.

Without a word, he flipped you over, pulling by your hair, pressing your hips back to him, and shoved his fingers inside you, thick and slick. You gasped as he scissored them, dragging every drop of his cum from your soaked pussy.

“Gonna take it all, doll,” he rasped, grinding his hips against your back as if he couldn’t resist making sure you swallowed every bit of him. “All mine. Don’t you dare waste a single drop.”

Your whines turned desperate, your body still trembling, but he held you in place, relentless, possessive, making sure you felt every inch of what you’d done together.

He groaned low, leaning close, his chest pressing to your back, metal fingers still teasing over your slick folds. “Fuck… I should be done with you…” His voice was ragged, rough, almost breathless. “…but you just look so good like this.”

You whimpered, pressing your face into the seat, voice shaking. “Buck, please—”

That was all it took. His hips slammed into you from behind, thick and hard, filling you with one savage thrust. You gasped, nails scrabbling over the leather, your back arching as he gripped your hips, holding you tight against him.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he growled, voice low and rough in your ear. “I just can’t get enough of you like this.”

He didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath, pounding into you hard, relentless, each thrust dragging you closer to the edge again, making you moan and cry out against the seat.

“You feel that?” he hissed, jaw tight, eyes dark. “Still dripping for me… still taking every inch.”

You gasped, body trembling violently with every merciless thrust, and tried to pull back slightly. “Bucky… ’s too much…”

His grip on your hips tightened instantly, holding you fast. A low, rough rumble came from his chest as he pressed closer, his forehead brushing yours. “Shhh… I know, baby,” he murmured, voice ragged but softening just enough to make your chest flutter. “I know… but you can take it.”

He slowed just enough for you to catch your breath, thumbs stroking over your trembling sides, but didn’t stop. Every pulse of him inside you was still relentless, but his words wrapped around you, grounding you even as your body screamed in overstimulated pleasure.

“You’re doing so good,” he growled against your ear, lips brushing the shell. “So tight, so wet… my perfect little slut. You can handle this. You always do.”

Your moans were shaky, desperate, but you obeyed, letting yourself ride the edge of everything he was giving you. His roughness hadn’t lessened, but the warmth in his voice made it… bearable.

Your chest heaved, hips trembling with the relentless pace, and you whimpered, voice shaky. “Bucky… just—please… just slow down…”

He froze for a heartbeat, just long enough to press a kiss to your shoulder, then tilted your head with his fingers tangled in your hair. “Oh yeah?” he murmured, voice low and teasing, hips still brushing against you. “Where did your attitude go, huh?”

You shivered, cheeks heating, but couldn’t argue. He chuckled darkly, brushing your hair back from your face, before finally easing the speed of his thrusts. Each roll of his hips was still deep, still possessive, but deliberate now, letting you adjust, letting you breathe.

“Better?” he growled softly, lips brushing your ear.

„Mhm… Feels so nice…” you whimpered.

He eased into a steady rhythm, slow and punishing, each thrust filling you completely, pressing you against the seat. His hands were firm on your hips, guiding you, holding you tight as he sank deep inside you over and over.

Your body trembled under him, walls fluttering helplessly with each slow roll of his hips. The overstimulation from earlier hadn’t left, and every inch of him hitting that perfect spot sent sparks of pleasure tearing through you.

“Bucky… I—” you gasped, nails digging into the seats, chest heaving.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, growling low and guttural. “I know, baby… I know,” he murmured, voice ragged. “You feel so good… so perfect… just like this.”

Then, without warning, your body clenched around him, walls squeezing him in a flood of pleasure. Your cry was muffled against the seat as your orgasm ripped through you, long and intense, muscles quivering with the depth of it.

He held you there, rocking slow, deep strokes still driving into you, not letting the moment end. Your moans mixed with his low growls, the car filled with the sounds of both of you lost in the heat of it.

⋆⁺₊✧ MAIN MASTERLIST

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