#hunter x hunter soft moodboard

[yu2ki]

killua <3

[honeyysan]

~ pi po pi po ~ electric sound <3 (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

[stardaiyamondo]

𖥻 ִ ۫ ּ 𓏲 killua ، ݃🧊❜ 𓈈

𓈈❜💧، ݃ zoldyck 𓏲 ۫ ּ 𖥻

[pochipop]

＃LOVE AND DEEPSPACE !! ♡ — HOW I CRAVE YOU IN THE MORNIN' (RAFAYEL X READER).

#. synopsis! — rafayel doesn't really like mornings, but heaven knows he likes you .

#. characters! — rafayel.

#. warnings! — none .

#. word count! — 1.3k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Rafayel has never been a morning person. He likes to watch the occasional sunrise if he wakes naturally to catch it, but heaven knows he’s loath to pull himself out of bed before he feels good and ready. You, on the other hand, don’t tend to have the luxury of sleeping in until whenever you please. The life of a Deepspace Hunter often requires early starts, and now that you’ve woven your life so tightly between the threads of Rafayel’s, he’s seldom excluded from the harsh ring of your alarm coercing you out of bed, out of your dreams of sweet nothings, and into the real world (which is often much less pretty.)

You don’t even have to open your eyes to know that Rafayel is already pouting at the mere thought of your departure, and your suspicions are confirmed when he snakes his arms around your waist, groaning.

“Baby,” he mutters, “don’t go, the bed gets so cold when you leave.”

You sigh.

“Have to,” you murmur, still half asleep. “Work.”

“Call in sick.”

“I’m not sick,” you answer, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You know my work is important for more reasons than one, Rafayel.”

“I do know,” he sighs, though it’s clear he’s less than happy about agreeing.

In fairness, you’re not particularly happy about this either. You love your job, worked hard to get it and climb the ranks within it, but man, sometimes you wish it were possible to pay the bills with currency earned cuddling in bed with the man nuzzling into your neck like a kitten. 

“Then don’t ask me to call in sick,” you laugh, turning your head to press a soft kiss to his warm temple.

He groans again, though you know he appreciates the affection.

Gently and with great reluctance, you pull yourself from Rafayel’s embrace, though you can’t help but take a moment to marvel at the way early morning rays of light filter through the curtains, playing on his delicate features. His eyes like marbled sunsets lazily find their way to you, still heavy with sleep, peering up at you in a mixture of love and discontent.

“You’re a menace to my sleeping schedule,” he grumbles playfully.

“Consider it payback for all the nights you’ve kept me up too late,” you answer jokingly, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ll have you know, keeping you up at night is a vital part of our relationship,” he pouts, but there’s an unmistakable glint of mischeviousness in his tired gaze.

You giggle, knowing he’s joking (at least in part.)

“I’ll make it up to you,” you move closer, cupping his cheeks in your hands and leaning down to peck his lips. “Promise.”

“You better,” he mutters.

“Don’t I always?” You inquire, fingers feathering through his soft hair.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges in a semi-rare moment of complete sincerity from the man who often goes through the world half-wittingly. “You do.”

You smile, soft and warm, leaning in for another lingering kiss, savoring the warmth and familiarity of Rafayel’s touch. His arms reach up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he’s hesitant to let go.

“Be safe, okay?” He says.

“Always,” you nod.

Before, you might have mistaken his concern for a lack of trust in your abilities, but you’re well past the point of pointless misunderstandings. Rafayel may be an artist, and he might spin his words like golden threads from time to time, making you read between the lines, but your sincerest assessment of the moment tells you he’s said exactly what he means. He wants you to be safe, wants you to come home in one piece, and you let him steal another quick kiss before standing upright.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you add, hoping it might soften the blow of your departure.

His playful pout returns.

“You seem to doubt the depth of my ability to lament over your absence,” he states.

“I don’t doubt it at all, but I’d rather you find more enjoyable ways to spend your day,” you laugh.

He sighs dramatically.

“Bring back something interesting from your adventure,” he suggests, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Maybe something I can crush up, turn into paint.”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you used an oddly sourced item for pigment?” You ask incredilously.

Rafayel rolls his eyes.

“Need I remind you that that’s precisely how we met?” He counters.

“Still,” you sigh, “I’d much prefer you not be endangered by your paint. Stick with oils and acrylics for a while. For my peace of mind.”

“Is that concern I detect from you, my little hunter?” Rafayel grins.

“Of course it is,” you reply honestly. “You might be pretentious and obnoxious, but I love you. I’d never want you in harm’s way.”

His teasing smirk softens to a genuine smile at your sincerity, and he stands, taking a moment to stretch before reaching out to caress the curve of your jaw with the top of his index finger.

“Obnoxious and pretentious, huh?” He chuckles lightly. “Thank you for the glowing evaluation of my character, darling. But, because I do happen to love you as well, I’ll let that little dig slide, —and I’ll do my very best to stick to safe and traditional mediums, at least for the time being, just for you.”

You can’t help but smile at Rafayel’s good-natured reply. His gentle touch lingers on your jaw, and you lean into it, relishing in the softness of his affection.

“Very much so appreciated,” you answer amusedly. “I’ll consider it a personal victory if we can avoid any and all paint-related Wanderer incidents for the forseeable future.”

Rafayel gives a curt nod.

“A noble goal, my dearest hunter,” he says. “Now go forth and fell any pesky Wanderers intent on disturbing the peace of our humble city of high-class electronic developments, bringing back tales of wonder and triumph.”

Heaven knows he has to be the most dramatic man you’ve ever met, but you couldn’t imagine him being any other way.

You play along and give him a mock salute.

“Yes sir, at once.”

Rafayel stifles a laugh, clearly pleased by your participation in his theatrics. He thinks for a moment that this life he lives with you is nothing short of fantastical, —the kind of comfort he only dreamed of just years ago, and now here you are before him, like some kind of angel he’s terrified he might wake up to find was a figment of his deepest desires all along. But his worries are quenched by the way your lips slot so perfectly against his own as he leans in, kissing you sweetly.

“May the cosmic forces be ever in your favor, my love. Return not only with tales of triumph, but also interstellar souvenirs for my viewing pleasure and artistic inspirations if you happen to stumble across any. Preferably ones that will not curse our modest seaside home.”

You laugh, and it makes his heart stutter.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for cosmic trinkets,” you assure.

You’re thrumming by the time Rafayel pulls you in again, pressing you closer to his chest. There’s nothing he has to say to fill the silence, and you let your eyes close for a moment, awash in the silent exchange of understanding so deep it could rival the cosmos. Beyond all the playful banter and the theatrical mannerisms, there’s love here, and that’s really all you could ask for. Worries about your safety, concern over Rafayel’s tendency to attract bad omens, —they dissipate in the face of this connection that buzzes like a live wire.

As you finally pull away, you meet his gaze and find nothing but softness there, replacing all the prior amusement and tiredness from before.

“Return safely, my angel. Our oceanside abode awaits your triumphant arrival,” he takes your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles. “And so do I.”

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter IV : Aite

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Hunter/prey dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Spanking; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Rough sex; Squirting

A/N: happy mando monday mother fuckers — literally nobody look at me i have nothing to say for myself 

also, again, canon deviation — he’s got the beskar spear here already.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 9.3K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER IV : AITE

MEGARA: You love the light so much?

AMPHITRYON: I do, I love its hopes.

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four plays by Euripides

You stir hours later, sweltering and tangled under the covers in the dark, cramped alcove of his narrow bunk, sweat pooling between your breasts and at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings and take in the steaming beast of a man, heavy muscle and a solid chest pressed into your back. Din’s nose nuzzles into your hair as he breathes deep and steady. The bunk is so narrow, and he is so broad, half draped on top of you, and you’re being smothered by his heat and weight. 

“Din,” muffled, sleep graveled voice, “Heavy.” He doesn’t answer – dead to the world after everything the two of you had been through. The two of you’d crawled into the cool darkness of his bunk and promptly lost consciousness after the emotional ordeal of everything you’d talked about, but now you are hot and aching, and as you try and shift and wiggle, murmuring supplications to rouse him he huffs in his sleep, disturbed at your wriggling, and that unyielding arm of muscle presses you deeper into his chest, constricting your ribs, at the same time that his overly large shirt he’d put you in shifts up to reveal your naked bottom half, and his hips shift up to press his hard, seeking cock to the wet seam of your cunt. His hips rock into you, rolling you further onto your belly, and he growls a sleepy sound deep in his chest that you’re sure would translate to sleep, little one, were he conscious. He keeps trying to push in, frustrated grumbles when he meets only soft thigh instead of the warm cunt his dreams expect. 

You can feel them on the periphery of your conscious mind, he’s dreaming of you, of your wet pussy, and the feeling of your slippery walls clenching around him. And you’ve no other choice but to give in, pulling a knee up to your chest you sense him step into this side of consciousness, and then he’s fucking in deep, meeting the end of you and grinding his hips against your ass with a low, hoarse groan. “Fuck, I was dreaming of this.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing your bottom to his pelvis and trying to tilt forward as far as the bunk allows to deepen the angle, but he pulls you back tight to his chest and lifts your leg to drape back over his hip. His hands snake up the bottom of his shirt you’re wearing to palm your tits and pinch your nipples, rolling the aching peaks between his rough fingers and mouthing at the sweaty skin of your neck.

“You’re sore and exhausted, little one. I told you no more,” he admonishes but doesn’t stop the rhythm of his thrusting hips, rolling up into your slick cunt over and over. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I hurt.” And part of you regrets it as soon as the words leave your mouth, painfully honest, humiliating, but the larger part of you is only desperate and aching for him to fuck into you, writhing wet and wanton on his cock.

“But I do. That’s all I care about.” He pushes inside again anyway though – the need too great, again and again until the two of you are trembling with orgasm together, wet and shaky and intimate. 

-

The next bounty finds itself on the planet of Kashyyyk and the Razor Crest makes planet-fall a few hours after the two of you finally stumble out of the warm cocoon of his bunk. 

You make tremendous fun of him and his ridiculously beloved ship, you can’t help it with a snickered, A Razor Crest? Really? Has the Guild been skimping out on you? To which you’re met with nothing but stony silence and then again, This hunk of junk is going to leave you stranded out in open space one day, I’m surprised it even still has the capacity to travel at– and then him spinning to pinch your cheeks between his fingers, forcing your mouth into a pucker, he gives your head a little shake. “One more bad word about my ship, and I’ll put this smart mouth to better use, do you hear me?” He’d forced your head into a little nod, but you’d rolled your eyes, snorting at him, as if you wouldn’t enjoy that. He’d harrumphed and turned to climb up into the cockpit after that while you’d washed the sweat and come of your nap from your body in the little fresher, the sound of him whispering his name to you ringing in your ears. 

-

“When do you think you’ll be back?” You pout up at him, spread out on your nest on the floor of the hull that’s become a permanent monument, your still damp, trembling, just fucked form covered only by a thin blanket. It’d been hours since the two of you’d touched down on Kashyyyk, and you knew he probably should’ve been gone ages ago, out hunting his bounty, but he’d not been able to pull himself from your soft wet clutch. He was grumpy now and insisting he had to go even though you desperately did not want him to. 

“It won’t be long – maybe two days, three at the most.” He’s re-donning the armor he hasn’t worn in days, slowly and meticulously adorning himself with each piece of beskar. 

“Alright…” you sigh, stretching out into lithe, soft lines, your hands above your head so that the blanket covering your chest inches down to expose one soft nipple to his gaze. He pauses deathly still to watch your display, and you spread your knees beneath the cover with a breathy, little moan. “I guess I’ll see you in three days… I’ll just be here.” You look up at him with the most guilelessly innocent eyes you can muster. One of his boots sneaks forward to toe the blanket away from you: He can see your little cunt, wet and gleaming, the reddened swell of recent use, and when you spread those soft, gorgeous thighs a little further apart there he is. The slow drool of his spend from your pussy. Fuck, that bounty is never getting brought in.

Squeezing your eyes shut, turning to hide your face in the bend of your arm — you need to be more careful about that, don’t know why it keeps happening. You listen to the clang of one of his pauldrons dropping to the floor. 

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” His voice has taken on that deeper tone he falls into right before he’s about to sink inside of you. 

Shit, shit shit, this is too much. Too desperate. 

You spread your legs wider, slowly pulling one knee up to your chest, and gently running your fingertips up the sensitive inside of your thighs until you reach your messy center. Swollen and overwrought from his ferocity, and you don’t care, you still want more. You flutter your fingers over the wet mess, circle your clit and pass over your clenching opening. 

“Think about you of course,” you moan, and listen to a restrained growl from him, the fall of another piece of his armor and then the soft shuck of his shirt falling as well. 

“I can see myself drooling from that sloppy little hole,” he murmurs, now the crash of the helmet, you squeeze your eyes shut tight, “Push it back in. Fuck yourself.” He falls to his knees between your spread legs. 

It is hours later before he finally manages to make it outside. 

-

On the fourth day without him, you begin to stir with restlessness.

He’d promised three at the most, and you’d wanted to say that three days was an unbearably long time to be away from him. Yes, even this soon – weak hearted little wench, you’d griped at yourself. But you’d been cast in an unbearable silly wash of shyness, going hot and vulnerable from head to toe when the moment finally came that he’d dallied just too long, and he absolutely had to go now, really, I do have to go, the bounty isn’t going to catch itself, and we’re soon to be out of credits. As if you couldn’t just steal or trick your way into more credits if absolutely need be, but he’d hear nothing of such petty thievery. So you’d kept your pouting to yourself, and let him go. 

He was a day late now, and you knew it was silly to worry about him.

He was a kriffing Mandalorian. He didn’t need you clucking over him like some worried mother tip-yip, but you couldn’t help it. You knew, even with as little experience with him as you have, that when he said he’d do something he did it. So you were beginning to stir with a frenzied and restlessly anxious energy, thinking of all the potential possibilities of harm he could have come to. Could Wookies chew through beskar? You didn’t know, but it seemed highly probable with the sort of Maker blasted luck you’d been cursed with that he’d randomly get eaten by a Wookie or some other beast on this fucking jungle planet and leave you stranded and without him.

You step off the Crest’s ramp late in the afternoon. Clad in only a pair of soft, worn leggings and your breast band, saber hilt in hand, thinking that perhaps a spot of training would help dispel your anxiety over him, but when you make it outside the weather is so lovely, warm and temperate, and you can’t help flop down into the soft grass of the field he’d landed the ship in to take in the heat of the sun. 

The sky has been different every morning, but it’s almost pearlescent today, watery gray shot with silver white that coalesces into a sort of soft hued lavender. The planet’s single star, soft behind the protection of the clouds, has you going lazy and lethargic as it fights to push its way through. You think that perhaps, the training is unnecessary then, if the sun’s able to soothe you into peace for a few moments, and you cross your arms behind your head to lay back and close your eyes to the sky, feeling the warmth of it seeping through the thin membrane of your lids.

The two of you had both gone a little shy and awkward as he’d gotten ready to finally go four days ago. While he’d gotten dressed, arming himself to the teeth, you’d felt his eyes on you as you lay wet and trembling where he’d left you, and you were sure he could read how much you did not want him to go. You’d so desperately wanted him to bid you farewell with a kiss, to tell you he’d be back to you soon, but he’d done none of those things. Had gone quiet and awkward and given you a sharp nod of his head before he was spinning on his heel, cape snapping behind him and throwing himself out into Kashyyyk’s wilderness for his bounty. Why the fuck anyone would choose the Wookie homeworld as a place to hide was beyond you. You think you’d much prefer being caught by the tin can than eaten by one of those overgrown hairballs, but what do you know. 

Well, actually – no, you’re certain you preferred being caught by him. 

I like to be caught.

By me.

By you.

So all you had to do now was sit here and stew with your own thoughts. You wonder if maybe you should plan for what your next move will be after you leave him – but your mind immediately shies away from the possibility of that. No, you think,  you’ll consider that later, in a few days, a few weeks, whenever he finally gets sick of you, which you know will happen sooner rather than later. But despite your recalcitrance to consider the timeline of when this will end, there is no part of you that doesn’t know how this will end. In ruination, surely, come by your hand, him angry or hating you. You just hope you can hold off on your inevitable destruction for a while longer, for you so enjoy being with him.

If you’re being modest and not entirely honest with what you feel, then, yes, you enjoy being here with him, enjoyment verging on something much deeper, more intense. The warmth and comfort you’d found in his ship, even if it was a hunk of junk Razor Crest, being with him, fucking him, having him take care of you, you like this. 

And it is not so much a realization, but a reminder that you’d been unsatisfied with your life thus far. Again, if you were being modest and not entirely honest, then sure, you could call it dissatisfaction.  Dissatisfaction with what you are, what you had been, and you’re angry too. Angry at the things that were done to you, the things you’d endured. You did not deserve to have been treated so. You had not deserved such cruelty, and perhaps, this time here with the Mandalorian, with Din, could be taken as a recompense of sorts. A lovely and wholly unexpected prize, a gift, after all you had endured. You could take this time with him with a grain of salt, a seed of wariness, and try and keep yourself as internally stoic as possible, entirely plausible, sure, and then when the time was right you could part ways and take your losses for what they were. For as good as you are at lying to yourself, you are self aware enough to know that at the end of this it will be a loss, he will be a loss. A worry for a later time, though, you suppose. 

You settle back on your bent arms. 

Dissatisfaction with life… you laugh lightly to yourself. What a silly thing. You’re alive, you’re free. That’s more than enough to be satisfied with. 

But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder at what it is to be a God and a slave all at once? You feel you know both sides of the coin so well – both sides of yourself. And you find yourself dissatisfied and angry at the intimacy of the knowledge you hold. You wish you could wash your hands of both facets of yourself and begin anew.

You wonder if perhaps he could provide the answer to the start of that question. 

-

“What are you doing?” His voice comes, what could be hours or minutes later, and you feel a soft, lazy smile spread across your face. Finally, finally, he’s back, he’s back. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you murmur up at him. You think you must have dozed off.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the open – it’s dangerous.” You give a derisive little snort of self assured laughter at that. Dangerous, ha ha, yeah, sure. “Where are your clothes?” So grouchy.

“I’m wearing them, shiny.” You’ve still not opened your eyes, and you listen to the sound of his long suffering sigh, big smile stretched across your face now. 

“Little one–” Your eyes finally blink open to take in the sight of him after four long days – he looms above you, extraordinary and singular, like some warrior of old – a knight or some other silver burning effigy, standing as the face of all that is good and valiant and true. Your pathetic little heart gives a sickly sweet flutter inside your chest. The two of you stare at each other silent and still, caught in each other’s gazes – it’s been four days, four agonizing, interminable days and you’d missed him. You’d traveled with him for such a short time, and already you found yourself in the painful business of missing him. 

He’s got one inescapable hand clamped around the bounty’s arm, an unfortunate Mythrol, whose head whips back and forth between the two of you.  “Aww, there’s no way – No way, man. Is this your girlfriend, Mando?!” The Mythrol practically howls. “There is absolutely no way this hunk of metal got you to bang him.”

“Shut the fuck up. Do not speak to her,” Din’s head snaps away from you to shake the creature roughly, shoving him forward. But the comically unintelligent bounty fails to read the Mandalorian’s angry countenance and digs his heels in.

“I’d decided on a spot of training, but then I got tired and lazy and hot, and now I am resting. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before–” bratty drawl to answer his earlier question.

“The galaxy really does show you new wonders every single day,” the Mythrol goes on unheeded, looking down at you with moon eyes, and you snicker. “Tell me, gorgeous, is his junk at least normal looking? He’s not like … green or something under there is he? Scales? Any strange orifices?”

“You’re literally blue,” Din deadpans.

“Blue is a perfectly respectable color to be.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten a good look at all his orifices yet, but I’ll let you know once I do,” you say coyly, looking up at Din and batting your eyelashes at him.

“You have fucking gills–” and he sounds so comically offended, you can’t help but break out into hysterical giggles. 

“Listen, if he isn’t doing it for you, trust me, I'm getting out of this real soon. I’ll surely take care of you if h–”  And then Din’s huge, balled up fist snaps out to punch the poor bounty in the face, dragging him off towards the Razor Crest, and muttering under his breath about brats and no respect and piece of bantha shit bounties. You make sure your laugh follows him all the way into the hull while you lay your head back on your crossed arms and continue enjoying the warm sun on your face and exposed belly. 

“You’re fucking naked,” he growls a few minutes later, hovering over you menacingly, very aggravatingly blocking out your warm sun.

You open your eyes to look up at him, shading yourself from the glare shining off the curve of his helmet. He’s rid himself of his armor and duraweave and remains only in his flight pants, long sleeved undershirt and helmet, the expanse of his thick neck left naked without his cowl so that you can admire all of that gorgeously tanned skin. “Mandalorian, you’re in your underthings! How scandalous.” He’s got his beskar spear gripped in one hand, and you eye it dubiously.

“You’re naked,” again, cold and clipped.

“So are you.” Maker, just the stance on him is full of sass, hands on his hips, one foot propped out like he’s about to start tapping it at you, on the verge of shaking his finger at the ornery little girl. 

“Shut up, brat. And get up.”

“I think I won’t, actually.” You lay back on your crossed arms and close your eyes again, but he knocks the edge of his boot against your bare ankle, right at the prominence of bone on the side so that you’re yelping unexpectedly and folding your knee up towards your chest to get away from him. “Mean man,” you frown up at him accusingly. 

“Get up. I want to see what you can do – let’s spar.”

The laughing smile you have plastered across your face goes wan and melts away. “You want to do what now?”

“You said you were training – I want to see what you can do.” 

“Well, I don’t want to show you.”

“My mistake, it wasn’t meant to be a request. Get your little ass up.”

“Exactly – I’m too little. I can’t spar with you.” You look up at him with big, pleading eyes, pouting at him. 

“Yes, you can. Get up.”

“I don’t want to spar with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” And he laughs. He laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. You scowl at him, bristling with indignation.

“You could never–” You take his legs out from under him with a single crook of your finger so that he’s hitting the ground with a jarring thud, knocking the breath from his lungs unexpectedly. You get to your feet, pinning him there lightly, but so that he’s not able to move even a millimeter. 

“You were saying?” Silence. “Do not mistake me for something I’m not,” you say slowly. “I could hurt you. Easily. I could kill you easily. I have to be conscious of myself and you and all the things around me every day so that I don’t unwittingly cause harm.”

More silence from him, and you panic for a second that you’ve actually gone and accidentally killed him. You fall to your knees at his side, letting go of your hold over him, and he stays still and unmoving, but then says, “I know. I know what you are. I also know that you would never hurt me. Even accidentally. You’d never let yourself.”

“Din,” you whisper, letting your forehead fall to his belly. He brings a hand up to cup the bowl of your skull and softly strokes your hair. He can’t know that. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that, and yet…

“Spar with me. It’ll be fun.”

You groan, rolling your forehead against his stomach in feigned denial. “Fine, you have a fucked up idea of fun, and when I whoop your ass you’re not allowed to be angry with me.” You move to stand,  clasping his hand in yours to pull him up with you. 

He slaps your bottom when he gets to his feet, squeezes just a little bit, “Brat.”

“You are not allowed to grope me when you’re making me do things I don’t want to do,” you say indignantly, turning your nose up at him, “And I want to make this interesting.” You move a few paces away from him, and then spin on the ball of your bare foot back towards him, igniting your saber on the come around. “Let’s switch weapons,” you say with a conniving little smirk. 

“You want me to use your lightsaber?”

“Scared?”

“Fuck off, and give it here.” Oh, he’s funny when he’s grouchy. 

You disengage the plasma beam and toss him the crossguard at the same time that he sends his spear your way. You catch it easily and give it an experimental twirl in your hands – it’s light, nicely balanced, and you give it a figure eight twist in front of you, once, twice, “Not as fancy – but I suppose it’ll do.” You take position, flexing up once on your toes to feel the tight stretch of your calves, a fizzy flutter of excitement in your belly. He’s right, you would never hurt him. A small, terrifying part of you even whispers that you think you’d do harm to yourself before you could ever even think of hurting him.

You can feel a deep hum of satisfaction coming off of him at the sight of you wielding one of his weapons, and he pauses for a beat, admiring you, and then ignites the saber, spinning the blade once in his hand, and then moving towards you on the defensive immediately, without thought. “No powers – just us,” he says, and he brings your lightsaber up above his head, the frame of his heavily muscled arms almost distracting you for a second, and then down upon you with all of his considerable strength. Fast as light, and he’s fucking strong so you feel the reverberation of the weapons meeting in your teeth with how powerful his strike is. 

“Maker– I didn’t think you were going to be a dick about this.” 

“That was your mistake.”

“Oh, you suck,”

“Not quite. But you will be later, trust me.”

“Did you just make a dirty joke?! I didn’t know you were allowed to do that,” you gasp. “This is not the way, Mandalorian,” you intone in a deep voice, imitating his baritone.

You disengage from his lock and spin away from him, twirling the spear above your head in a quick little flourish, hair fanning out around you, and then bringing it down upon him again. He’s fast and strong, but you’re small and sneaky, easily distracting. Your footwork has always been your greatest strength, like a dance and a game and a duel all at once. He parries your blow and steps to the side trying to evade you by going around. You take a light hop further away from him, and then pirouette back again, fast as you can, ready to strike once more, but he’s already there waiting, leaning heavily into your space so that the plasma blade flashes violet and angry, buzzing right up against your face. You feel the heat radiating off of it on your eyelids, and a bead of sweat slides down your temple.

“You’re not getting laid for a week,” you grit through clenched teeth, blowing a fallen piece of fringe out of your eyes. 

“Oh, you’re getting fucked as soon as this is over.” He shoves you back with all his strength, and you stumble over your own feet, giving an outraged little screech as you go ass over tits, and your bottom meets the hard ground. He circles your fallen form, “Get up. I'm not done with you yet, little one.”

Jerk. You spring back up onto the balls of your feet and meet him in a parry of blindingly quick strikes, one after the other after the other. He matches them all without even seeming to strain himself. Your strength is nothing compared to his, and for a second you feel a flash of anger, a memory of being weaker and smaller than everyone around you. He’s not even trying. You growl and spin again, going low, trying to get his legs, but he meets your blow, and then brings one of his hands up to shove you away by the shoulder. He’s never even wielded a fucking lightsaber before and this is how he does – you catch yourself with a supportive tendril of the Force on that one, and bare your teeth at him. 

“You’re stronger than me – this isn’t fair,” you pant.

“You know that isn’t true.” He strikes again, and you block it, barely. “But if it were, you’re tiny. Most people are going to be stronger than you. Tough shit – you can’t always rely on your tricks.”

“My tricks–” Fuck you. You jerk away from him, gasping for breath, sweating, angry at his words and full of reckless defiance. But you take a deep, calming breath and give him a small smile. “Oh, no?” you croon, and lunge at him again at the same time that you snake a ribbon of Force around his striking arm to pull the limb backwards, rendering it motionless and him without protection. He brings his other arm up to block your presumed blow, but you pull the saber from his grasp with your mind instead and knock the side of his spear against the curve of his helmet, loud clang echoing at the same time that you bring one small, bare foot up to the center of his belly and shove him back, sending him sprawling to the ground. How’s that for a trick? “Life isn’t fair, shiny. I'm going to use all the tricks in my book until I'm dead – and even after that, I still might find a way.” You stand over him looking down at the impenetrable dark of his visor. You crook your eyebrow at him, a little shrug of one shoulder, and oh, he’s fucking pissed, you can feel it rolling off of him. 

“I said no powers,” and grunts when you place a small foot on his belly, a conqueror over your felled opponent. 

“Oops.” You see the strain of his arms trying to fight against your restraints, biceps bulging and bunching, and he growls like an animal, like someone about to teach you a particularly savage lesson. You remove your foot from him and take a few, slow steps back from him. Retreating from the beast you’ve just purposefully enraged. “Now, now,” you try, “We were just messing around–” a nervous, hiccuping laugh.

You let him go, and he moves to his feet, long legs unfolding almost in slow motion. “You better fucking run, little girl. You do not want me to get my hands on you right now,” he says slowly.

You don’t need to be told twice, without a second thought you’re throwing both weapons to the ground and spinning on your heel, sprinting away as fast as you possibly can on bare feet. You’re pretty sure he even gives you a few seconds head start before he’s shooting after you. You can hear the pounding sound of his heavy strides over the hard ground, and you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can, making for the tree line far ahead, but there are rocks and small bric-a-brac hidden in the underbrush, and your pace falters, heart thumping painfully fast within the cage of your chest. There's a fine sheen of sweat covering your whole body, and right before his chest makes harsh contact with your back you have the thought that being caught by him is one of the greatest pleasures you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. 

He slams into your back and takes you to the ground, his hand coming up to protect your face, his other arm banding tightly around your waist seeming to press all of the air from your lungs. 

“Should’ve run faster.”

“Maybe I wanted to be caught,” you gasp.

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” You feel him lever himself up above you, and then he’s ripping down your leggings and underwear, the sound of seams popping at the ferocity of his movements, “You want to be my little whore? Want me to fuck you right here under the open sky for the entire galaxy and the Maker to see how I own this cunt?” And lands a stinging, sharp slap to your ass. He grips the meat of your cheek and spreads you wide for his inspection, you feel the probe of his thumb at the tight furl of your ass, then lower to your folds, your leaking entrance, your swollen clit. “Look at you, fucking soaked already, shit. You like being hunted and caught, little one?”

“Only by you,” you moan into the dirt, an echo of your past words to each other, your cheek squished against the grass, you watch the panting huffs of your breath disturb the blades and let him do with you what he will. He’s caught his bounty, he should enjoy the fruits of his spoils now. He presses his thumb inside, sliding it in and out of you slowly, and then unexpectedly slaps you again and you mewl, twisting the soft green blades between your shaking fingers, trying to find purchase, an anchoring, anything to steady your racing heart. You listen to the rustle of his clothes as he frees his cock and finally, finally, you can hear the change in his breath as he takes hold of his hard length. Make me so fucking hard, you hear him mutter. He reaches for your twisted hands then, pulling them behind you, “Hand here, and here–” he sets each palm on either of your cheeks, “Show me that little asshole. I want to see it.” Nasty man, and like the good girl you’re trying to pretend to be, you obey and pull yourself apart for him, presenting all you have to offer, hips lifted in a desperate little arc for him to fuck into you. He presses the wide head of his cock to your fluttering cunt, and starts to push in, stretching you painfully without having made you come before – it hurts to take him like this. Caught and fucked into the dirt, and he pushes in until he’s rooted to the hilt, heavy sac pressed tightly against your backside, and you love it. His strong thighs bracket your own, restrained in your partially shoved down leggings, making the fit all the more snug when he wedges that thick cock inside of you. “Fuck, yes,” he growls and sets a punishing pace. Slamming his hips so hard into your ass you can feel the rebound of your soft flesh in your hands, still holding yourself open, drooling and sobbing into the grass, hair a fallen mess, sticking to the wetness of your tears and spit on your cheeks. He angles his hips down and hammers into your g-spot. Fucking made for me, perfect little cunt, so pretty, you can hear him muttering hoarsely through the modulator behind you over the wet, sucking slide of his cock. He sets a brutal pace that has you going almost cross-eyed, weak little huffs of breath being fucked out of you on every push in so that you can’t even make a sound of pleasure or pain or anything. All you can do is take it. 

He moans an almost agonized sound, feels so fucking good – and oh, it’s too much, the punishing pace, the sound of his pleasure, the painful stretch of his thick cock inside of you, hitting against that ravenous little place, the feel of his desire for you pushing up against the periphery of your mind – he is devastating and life changing, world altering inside of you, and, “Din, Din, please – I’m going to come,” you hitch and cry. 

And he pulls out. Suddenly, painfully, he rips his sliding cock from the wet, fluttering clutch of your pussy on the verge of orgasm, dripping cock smearing wetly against the curve of your ass. “No,” he sits back on his haunches and turns you over roughly, your bare arms and back chafing against the grass and dirt. “Who said you had permission to come?” He rips your leggings down one leg to get at your sex and spreads your thighs wide, right here in the middle of the open field, and then hooks his fingers under your breast band at the space between your tits to pull you up into a sitting position. “Grab my cock,” he orders. “Bad girls don’t get to come.” You wrap your slim fingers around the swollen, slick length of him and start to slide your hand up and down, squeezing to the very root and then back up to the drooling head, ending in a little twist. You look up at the visage of his helmet, if his gaze had a physical manifestation it’d be all over your skin, licking and kissing and sucking. He pushes your breast band down to free the heavy, aching weights of your tits and squeezes them hard so that you’re moaning up at him softly, legs spread around his kneeling form, bare, pulsing cunt leaking into the grass beneath. You can see the skin of his neck where his stubble fades to tan sweaty skin beneath the edge of his helmet, and your teeth ache to bite there. You want to see what sort of sound he’d make if you bit hard enough to draw blood…

He twists your nipples between his fingers, and then switches to softer, soothing passes around your areolas, lifting each breast high to squeeze and then letting them fall to hang and sway heavily. “Too fucking beautiful for your own good,” he says in a low whisper, as if only for himself. Your other hand moves to cup the hanging weight of his balls and you massage them gently, and then twist a little, applying more pressure, eliciting a soft whimper from him. “No,” he grunts suddenly, pressing you belly back into the hard ground, pinning you there despite a whine and dolling out a quick, stinging slap to your spread sex. You cry out, trying to toe him away with one small foot lifted to his shoulder, escape his unforgiving hands, but he digs his fingers into the softness of your thighs and pulls you back towards him, gripping the base of his cock to feed it back into you. “This is your punishment, stop distracting me.” 

He lifts up the hem of his shirt, tucking it beneath his lowered chin so that he can fuck you unobstructed. He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your breast band around your waist and uses it as leverage to pull you onto his impaling cock, fucking up into your cervix painfully, sending you right to the edge of orgasm once again. The sight of his exposed abdomen shifting under the sunlight, sweat sliding down from his chest to the hair trailing from his navel, lower to the thick root of his cock, neatly trimmed, mouth watering – it has your already overwrought cunt pulsing and aching and drooling, clenching down painfully around him. “You are not allowed to come. If you do, I'm going to make it so much worse for you, do you understand me?”

“No, please. Please, Din. I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good,” you cry, deepening the arch of your back to open yourself further to him, to feel the jolt of his cock more intensely within you. 

“Too late.” His thrusts speed up, sloppy and unsynchronized, and he growls low in his throat beneath the helmet as he rips himself from you once again and takes his soaked length in hand, fucking his fist furiously until he comes over the gaping slit of your sex, covering your pusling cunt in the searing heat of his milky spend, spurting thickly onto the slope of your belly and your heaving tits. You let out an agonized sob, throwing your arms over your face to hide the sight of your tears from him. Your womb twists painfully, low in your pelvis, the echoes of his brutal fucking still felt in the unsatisfied frenzied fluttering of your muscles. “Bad girls don’t get filled up either.” He gives his slick length one final squeeze, twisting his fist viciously at the angry, red tip to milk out the last final drops of his come. You watch his fist, gripped around himself so tightly, beneath the hood of your wet lashes and crossed arms, and think it must surely hurt him, such a punishing hold on himself – but you also think that, like you, he enjoys a little pain with his pleasure. Or a lot… depending on the day. 

He drops his wet hand to your pulsing sex, smearing the thick viscosity of his semen into your painfully sensitive skin, and then slaps it again and again and again. Three stinging slaps in a row that has you twisting away, trying to escape him. “I want to eat your cunt,” and his voice is nothing but a gasp, “It’s so fucking red and swollen – and it gapes when I slap it.” He hits you again, presses a hand low on your belly to keep you in place and incite the coiled ball of unreleased arousal sitting inside of you, all at once. 

He leans forward, holding himself up over you on one strong arm and grips your jaw tightly, his hand wet and sticky with his come and your own slick, and squeezes your cheeks together, forcing your mouth into a pout and giving your head a little jostle, his hold on you, so tight, you feel the imprinted shape of your teeth on the inside of your cheeks. “What if someone saw you like this, being fucked full of cock? What would you do?” His hand leaves your face to press two thick fingers inside of your poor, abused pussy. 

“Please, no more–” you whisper, you can’t take anymore. 

“Quit. As much as I say – it’s mine. Isn’t it? It belongs to me.” You have to nod, you have no other choice, you must tell the truth right now, and then answering his first question: “Nothing. I don't care. What would you do?” And despite your protestations, you wrap both your hands around his thick wrist to leverage yourself against him and begin to ride his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers crooked inside of you.

“Kill them. You’re only mine to see like this– fucking mine,” but he pulls his fingers from you, again. You give a little undignified screech, feeling the overwhelming sensation of your opening clenching hungrily around nothing, and he sits back on his haunches again, taking himself away from you, and tucks his still wet, still semi-hard cock back behind the plaque of his trousers. He takes several deep breaths, the wings of his rib cage expanding so wide on the exhale you worry for a second he’d take flight, escape you, go somewhere where you could not reach him. 

“You’re so mean,” you mewl up at him, tears streaming across your cheeks and backwards, down your temples into your hair – making your already sweat damp hairline even wetter. Your whole body feels wet and trembling and raw. You move to press your knees closed, but he grips you around the ankle still wearing your leggings and pulls them off of you entirely. 

“I know,” he says, “Poor, little girl,” cooed at you, a little mean, a little condescending, his voice so soft and smokey and deep. “Perhaps, this’ll teach you what happens to bad girls who don’t follow the rules.” He pulls you by the wrist to sit up and curls to press his shoulder into the soft of your belly, unfolding from the ground all the way to standing, with the entirety of your weight slung over his shoulder, just by the pure strength of him. He turns back towards the ship and slaps your ass as he walks, right at the apex of your thighs so that you feel the rebound of it in your cunt. Tears drip down your upside down face while your arms hang limply down towards the ground, your head bobbing along limply with his gait, wild, loose hair swinging, entirely overwhelmed and conquered – just like he’d wanted you. 

And after everything, even without an orgasm, it’s really not so bad. 

-

He hauls your ass back to the ship without even seeming to lose his breath, carrying your weight easily over his shoulder. He’s so strong, and it makes you even wetter for him, if possible. Making his way up the ramp, he hits the button to disengage and shut it behind the two of you once you’re inside, and deposits your limp, trembling form onto your nest of blankets. A murmured: “I’m going to get us in the air,” and then he’s climbing up into the cockpit. You think you must fall asleep or go so delirious from the cramping deep in your belly that you lose consciousness for what seems like seconds or possibly hours later he’s back and spreading your legs again, you mumble something incoherently that sounds like his name or a plea for mercy or his cock, and then his unmodulated voice sounds, “Don’t open your eyes, little one.” You think you nod your head or give some sort of a reply of confirmation, but you can’t be sure. Your body feels so far removed from you, sun drunk and cock drunk and Din drunk. He shoves the breadth of his wide, naked shoulders between your thighs and hooks both thumbs at your soft outer lips to spread you wide and spits directly onto your swollen clit and blushed, fluttering hole. You moan and writhe, bringing your hands up to your face to dig the heels of your palms harshly into your sockets, sliding the tips of your fingers through your hairline to pull at the strands. He starts off light, whisper soft, the tip of his tongue tracing figure eights over your clit, and then further down to flutter lightly at the  mouth of your cunt. You’re sex is drenched in his own come, and he doesn’t seem to give a single fuck, tasting himself on your own skin and groaning at your combined flavors. He moves back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth hard. Your back arches in an almost painful bend, bringing your knees up as far back as you can to your shoulders, hands hooked beneath the sweaty bend of your joints to hold yourself open for him.

“Are you going to be bad again?” he murmurs into your cunt.

“Yes–” irrationally, recklessly defiant.

“Good. I’d expect nothing less.” He licks a long, wet swipe through your slit, further down to taste your ass, his tongue applying pressure to the sensitive rosebud, then back up to your pussy, licking into you with the strong muscle of his tongue. You can feel him rutting into the blanketed floor. 

“Are you hard again already?” voice ragged, you want to know, you want it in your mouth.

“Fuck yes, I’m hard. I’m always hard for you. Most perfect little cunt in the entire galaxy,” and he literally slurps at your folds, wet and lewd and entirely obscene. You writhe on the blankets, one foot pressed to the thick mass of his muscular shoulder trying to push him away and rock yourself against his face all at the same time. He moves to kneel over you and grips your other leg open under the bend of your knee. “Never want you to fucking behave,” he presses two thick fingers inside of you, hooked against that spongey spot at the front of your cunt, thumb on your clit, and sets a quick fire pace, tugging your orgasm forward, jostling his fingers inside of you. “Means I get to do this to you as many times as I want,” he grits. “Get this fucking cunt wet for me, little girl.” He shoves a third finger inside of you, hooks his fingers against your g-spot again and presses down on your lower belly with his other hand, and rubs fast and hard inside of you. You whine high pitched, an animal sound, writhing in the nest of blankets, twisting them in your hands to press your face to them. He quickens his pace, his whole hand shaking within you, and then wrenches it from your cunt and you feel yourself gush onto the waiting blankets and his spread thighs. 

He moans a savage sound, “Yes, yes – fucking again,” and he pushes those three fingers back into your gaping hole, the palm on your belly giving a slow soothing circular stroke to settle you, and you think you must surely want to beg for no more, please, no more, but you cannot. He pauses for a second, and you listen to the sound of his heavy panting breaths over the sound of your own echoing heart in your ears. His palm is so big and warm on your abdomen, and it soothes you for a second, your limbs full of fired lightning. He pets softly at your g-spot, and then quakes his hand again, palm on your belly pushing down to apply pressure from the outside. It feels like there’s plasma melting down your spine, and your vision behind your closed lids bends and flashes blinding white. Again, it’s going to happen again – he rips his hand from you, and you gush once again, soaking wet. Yes, yes, yes, he’s chanting, sounding half delirious, nonsensical, and then his mouth is at your cunt again, drinking up all the slick wetness you’ve just made for him.

Mine, all mine, look at all this – made it all for me, didn’t you, gorgeous thing. 

He laps at you gently until he’s gotten all of it, every last drop of your come and slick and sweat. Your entire frame shakes and jolts with aftershocks, trembling and sweating and crying. Heart beating an overwhelmed symphony within your chest to the tune of his name. This is not like anything else, you think. This is something to venerate and fear equally, you think. You feel afraid. He mouths gently at the raw skin of your inner thighs, pressing slow kisses to your mound, up the slope of your belly, over the trembling hills of your breasts, up finally all the way to your mouth where he licks into you wet and hot. There’s a desperately hungry energy to him, ready to shove into your cunt and fuck you again. You feel the drooling tip of his heavily hanging cock bob against your belly, and he makes a soft sound, low in his throat, but pulls back, humming contemplatively. 

“Let’s take a shower,” he murmurs between kisses, “You’re filthy,” the soft sound of his self satisfied huff of laughter. He presses one last kiss to your mouth then gets to his feet with a soft groan, the hollow sounding pop of his knees, and you listen to him move into the fresher, starting the water and shuffling about. You’re beyond words, vaguely painful aftershocks seizing your throat and muscles, and you can’t open your eyes, you won’t. He’s walking around with so much trust, moving about the hull into the softly lit fresher helmetless and entirely vulnerable. He trusts you, and you don’t think you’ve ever been able to say that, ever been able to claim the trust of another person. Never. You need to protect this at all costs, guard it fiercely and nurture it as you would a fragile and delicate sapling. 

He returns to your side after a moment, wrapping his hands around you. Your limbs have been rendered limp and useless, entirely pliable for his strong hands to pull you up into his embrace, and you feel like water in his arms as he carries you into the warm spray of the fresher, submerged in his touch and his smell, your mind murky and floating with your eyes still closed. He shuts off the lights as he passes, sinking the two of you into a deep darkness once again and sets you on your feet, shaky, weak knees knocking together, coltish and frail. 

The spray of the water is warm and sets about a cloud of humidity around the two of you. You reach up to twist your arms around his strong neck, fingers twisting in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, and his roving hands slide along your limbs and curves, water slick and lust frenzied, but still slow, categorizing, exploring. He feels you, grips your soft flesh in his big hands, the rough calluses on his palms catching at your sensitive skin, his fingers pressing along your arms, gripping the joints of your elbows between his fingers, up to your wrists clasped behind his neck. He brings one hand down to his face to press a long kiss to the center of your palm, then presses your splayed palm to his cheek, nuzzles against you like an overly large cat. “I love how this feels,” he whispers low. You think you must have lost your voice, spit it out in the field where he’d fucked you and left it there, forgotten, but you press your face up into the warm spot beneath his jaw, mouthing slowly there at his burning hot skin. He tastes like the sun, like earth and life and all the goodness you’d never before had the chance to taste, and you want to drink him down, take a bite and swallow him, let him settle down, deep and heavy in your belly where you’d keep him always. Your heart gives a heavy thump of fear, but then his other hand is there, sliding down the arch of your spine and gripping your ass to press you into the long line of his erection. “Are you ready for my cock again, little one?” And his words return your mind to the slow cramping, deep in your pelvis. The hungry clench of your cunt and the shivers zipping down the lines of your muscles. 

Yes, please, you think you whisper, and you must, for he lifts one of your thighs, hooking it around his hip and bending his knees slightly to press the head of his cock to the slick mouth of your cunt, and then he’s surging up and sliding deep inside you, gripping your other thigh as he goes to lift you high up into his arms and settle himself deep into your belly, to what feels like the very end of you, knees hooked over the bends of his elbows. It feels like he presses all the way to the heart of you, your very heart, your very heart, he has it in his clutch. That heart you’d for so long feared had been taken from you, swallowed and destroyed. You moan softly into his open mouth and he swallows down your sounds, tastes the inside of your mouth with his tongue, grips and kneads all the soft contours that make you up – that softness that still makes up the hard creature that they’d tried to force you into. He feels it, takes it in his hands. 

You run your hands along him as well. The hard lines of him to juxtapose your own softness. His broad shoulders, muscled and strong and endless, seemingly wide enough to hold up the weight of the galaxy. The thick bulge of his biceps, the strength of his chest, the flat expanse of his abdomen that gently turns to softness lower down. The thick root of his cock fucking up into you. You softly circle your hand there, feeling the slide of him thrusting into you, pressing into the swollen bud of your clit. You can feel your orgasm churning like molten ore in your pelvis, the base of your spine. You’re both scarred all over, mottled in the painful history of your individual pasts, and he has scars on his hands, covered in them, for some reason these hurt you more than any you’ve ever endured on your own body. Such strong, capable, gentle hands – you pull them to your mouth one by one and kiss each and every one of them. 

He grips your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock harder, bends his knees to deepen the angle inside of you and you keen and mewl weakly for him, a supplication in the shape of his name, shared here in this warm darkness he’s pulled you into with him, and you think of the dark and of the opposition of light. Of being alone and together and here with him, afraid and protected and how the darkness had never seemed anything more than a cruel and suffocating mantle meant to only ever subjugate and enslave you, and how here, with him now, with him inside of you and held in his arms it feels like nothing more than protection. A safe place to cast away your fear. “Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika?” he murmurs into the lush of your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth and biting down gently. 

Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika.

My good girl, taking me so well.

And no one had ever baptized you with a veneration such as that. No one had ever called to you in gentleness or care, and so you do. You come for him at the sound of it, at the feel of the wide head of his cock kissing your womb on every press inside, the grip of his hands, possessive and hard and gentle and coaxing and inescapable, all at the same time. It’s like he’s all the things in the world that a man could ever be, and you give him your pleasure, and he returns it in kind, filling you with the heat of his spend, coating your insides with himself. Sweet and full of heart, just like he’d said.

Chapter V

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[cupidspup]

kitten regressor Alastor from Hazbin Hotel headcanon? Do you do moodboards too? If not that’s fine but I would also like a moodboard on the same subject with gothic cat items and gothic Lolita aesthetic with a gothic teacup with red tea if at all possible.If you are uncomfortable with the moodboard request it’s ok. Please, I know this is an incredibly weird headcanon but… ps: you don’t have to include any bones/skulls/blood/gore ect. if that makes you uncomfortable. If all of this makes you uncomfortable, feel free to ignore it.

Hello! I'd be more than happy to make a headcanon list for you! I will say first that I don't do moodboards or anything like that :") this is an agere fanfic account so anything under the writing category is more than welcome! ^^ (it's also my first time doing this too so I hope you like it!!૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა)

Kitten Regressor! Alastor Headcanons!

Ft. Auntie Rosie!! :D

🐾 Kitty alastor is definitely the temperamental type. He will refuse to interact with you if he doesn't get to know you first and will only interact if he comes up to you first.

❤️ Little Alastor is also extremely picky on who gets to touch/pet him. His cg or Auntie Rosie are the ONLY ones allowed to touch him, especially without asking.

📻 He isn't into playing in the typical way you'd think he'd do. He's the kind where he'll "hide and stalk" whatever he deems as his "prey" and attack it when he feels ready! He's a lil kitty hunter!

🐾 Because he's a cannibal it can be a bit difficult to get him to eat foods especially the stuff he's usually used to. BUT, Auntie Rosie always has some snacks handy! Just a pinky finger or two maybe x]

❤️ If it's naptime, Alastor will ONLY allow himself to be tucked in and put down for sleep if you cuddle up, hold him and pet him until he's snoozing away (his cg is NOT allowed to move until he's awake again)

📻 When Alastor is upset he's not the crying type, he lashes out and isolates. He can be a lil violent that's because he doesn't know how else to express himself when he's so deep in kittyspace! Give him time/patience. All he needs is love and safe space ❤️

🐾Not necessarily a kitty alastor headcanon but I like to think he'd play with his shadow self when he's alone! He's not fond of many people in that headspace so why not? ^^

❤️ Alastor isn't a fan of pacifiers when he's regressed BUT he does like chew toys like teethers! Especially the ones with liquid in them! The only issue is getting some that his pointy teefies won't puncture :"]

📻 Kitty Alastor doesn't like talking much BUT his personality is very similar to how the Cheshire cat would act! (And he absolutely loves watching Alice in Wonderland for that exact reason too! But only on vhs)

🐾 He absolutely does make muffins but only if no one is looking

❤️ He loves to play dress up with his Auntie Rosie! She'll play his favorite music on the radio and talk to him for hours and hours while dressing him up in a outfit she "just had to see him in"

📻 Alastor has a hard time expressing himself and saying "I love you" more than anything so! How does he get around this? A slow double blink and a soft head but to show he loves his cg❤️

A/N: Weeee!! I hope you liked it! This was my first time and I really had to sit and think about this one but I had fun! ^^ I hope this is up to your standards and I hope I get more writing requests soon! Stay safe everyone!!🩷

-Love, Kyupie˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[starrylothcat]

Sweet Thing

Wrecker x Female!Reader One-Shot

Summary: Wrecker has a crush on you, a local sweet shop owner. Will he find the courage to ask you out? (maybe…with a little help from Omega) 5700 words

Warnings: None? Fluff, dummies in love. A little spicy make-out and a tiny bit suggestive at the end but nothing explicit.

Author’s Note: So I accidentally deleted the ask like a dumb dumb 🙈 The prompt was “You look so beautiful in this lighting” from @wizardofrozz ! I’ve been wanting to write a Wrecker fic for awhile but I’ve been nervous 😅. I think Omega would totally be a little shit (in a loving little sister way) if she knew one of her brothers had a crush. Shout out to the wonderful @l-lend for helping me with this! Seriously tysm. I hope y’all enjoy. ❤️

Incredible moodboard made by the talented @saradika

The Marauder touched down in Ord Mantell City, the engines powering off as the ramp lowered to the ground, the ship’s durasteel catching the last rays of sunlight as dusk settled over the planet.

Before the ramp had a chance to lower completely, Omega sprinted down the platform, buzzing with excitement. “C’mon, Wrecker! Let’s go!” She turned, seeing him trying to keep up with her, hurrying down the ramp himself.

“Omega, we all need to talk to Cid before you and Wrecker run off. It’s getting late.”

Hunter walked down the ramp, watching as Omega tugged at Wrecker’s armored arm toward the marketplace.

“But we always get treats from her right after a mission! We won’t be gone that long, right Wrecker?” Omega gave Hunter a dewy-eyed look, glancing between him and Wrecker. A look she knew Hunter couldn’t refuse. “Please?”

“Ya, we won’t be gone long! I’m starving, anyway. Those ration bars never hit the spot!” Wrecker agreed, wanting to join Omega. He wasn’t just excited at the prospect of food, though.

Months prior, Wrecker had found your sweet shop by pure happenstance, wandering with Omega in search of Mantell Mix after a mission. They had taken a different route than usual and noticed your humble stand in the mix of the bustling marketplace. Your handmade treats looked irresistible, perfectly placed in your small display case. Impeccably decorated cakes with different colored frostings and glazes, mouth-watering fruit tarts, hand-pies, jelly candies, custards, and other sweet confectioneries.

Your shop became Wrecker and Omega’s new post-job ritual, Mantell Mix quickly a memory of the past. Your treats were amazing, there was no denying that. But Wrecker, surprising himself even, began to look forward to seeing you more than tasting whatever you had cooked up since you last saw one another. You were easy to talk to, kind, talented, not to mention easy on the eyes. Wrecker began taking any opportunity he could to see you when he had downtime between jobs.

Hunter sighed, knowing he couldn’t fight the look on Omega’s (or Wrecker’s) face.

“Okay, just be back at the bar before long. We have a lot to discuss with Cid.” Hunter gave Wrecker a glance, more soft than stern. “I mean it, not too long.” It wasn’t a secret Wrecker had been spending more time at your shop lately. “At least have Omega back before dark. And bring back some jellyfruit cakes while you’re at it.” Even Hunter couldn’t deny your sweets were some of the best he’s ever tasted.

Omega beamed and leaned up toward Wrecker, getting on her tiptoes. She cupped her hand to the side of her mouth as if she wanted to tell him a secret.

“She’s probably waiting to see you, Wrecker!” She giggled, whispering with an impish twinkle in her eyes. Wrecker stuttered for a moment as Hunter raised an eyebrow, hearing Omega’s not-so-quiet statement.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. But he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Wrecker, it has not gone unnoticed that you spend a lot of personal time at that sweet shop. The owner of said shop has more than likely perceived you are not just there to purchase her confections. Though you do purchase a lot.”

Tech walked past, just coming off The Marauder, speaking matter-of-factly, also hearing what Omega had said. He suddenly stopped, looking up from his datapad and over his shoulder, glancing back toward Wrecker.

“More precisely, she may even assume you have what Omega has defined as “a crush.” And perhaps shares that sentiment.”

Wrecker snapped his head toward Tech, completely at a loss for words, thoroughly embarrassed now. He turned to Omega, giving her a desperate look.

“I-I don’t! I just erm…like her sweets is all!”

Echo appeared at his side, who had also just exited the ship, nudging Wrecker with his good hand. “It’s ok, big guy. From what I can tell, I think she likes you, too. So you don’t have much to worry about.”

Echo smirked as he followed Tech, leaving a stuttering Wrecker behind with Omega and Hunter. Am I really that obvious? Wrecker thought, his face feeling like it was on fire. Of course I am.

Hunter chuckled, placing his hand on Wrecker’s shoulder, seeing how flustered he was at his brother’s teasing. “If it means anything, I agree with Echo and Tech. Go see her. But like I said, Omega comes back before dark, okay? And don’t forget those cakes.”

Wrecker shifted on his feet, his heart thudding in his chest. Hunter patted his brother’s large shoulder, giving him a knowing look before following Tech and Echo to Cid’s parlor.

Wrecker groaned, looking down at Omega as their brothers left them standing near the ship.

“Omega! She ‘prolly doesn’t like me like that! What did you tell Tech?”

Wrecker still felt the heat on his face as they started toward your shop. Omega peered up, giving him a sly look. “But you like her, right?” The glint in her eyes was downright diabolical. “And I didn’t tell Tech anything! I just mentioned once you might have a crush on her, that’s all. It’s kind of obvious.” She shrugged.

Wrecker cleared his throat, thinking of your smile, how your eyes light up when you see him in the crowd, or how the sides of your eyes crinkle when you laugh at one of his jokes, a musical note that echoed in his thoughts constantly.

“You’re blushing, Wrecker!” Omega giggled as Wrecker groaned again and rubbed his face with his hands, the heat not fading.

“Fine!” He let out a deep sigh. “I guess I do. I dunno…she’s nice and pretty and…” Wrecker’s shoulders slumped, knowing Omega was on to him. He did have a crush. You were more than just nice and pretty, though.

Wrecker saw how immaculately you decorated your sweets, how careful and gentle your hands were. His hands were steady and careful too, but trained to deal in explosives, things meant to destroy. Your hands created, and he was entranced any time he watched you delicately pipe frosting flowers or stylish Aurebesh characters on cakes and pastries. He really did like you, and not just because you were talented in food-making.

But how could he ever tell you or expect you to be more than friends? He has thought about telling you how he feels, asking you to dinner or something of the sort. But he always hesitated. Your livelihoods were completely different from one another. You probably wanted someone more…normal. He was an outcast clone, not quite knowing what the future held for him and his family. He had resigned to the fact that his crush would stay just that.

Omega peered past Wrecker, who was deep in his thoughts, staring at a colorful flier that was hung up on a post as they continued walking down the marketplace. Omega ran over to what caught her eye, reading what the flier said. Omega’s eyes widened, looking back at Wrecker. “Wrecker! There’s going to be a fireworks show!” She ripped one of the flyers off the post, hurrying back to him, holding it up for him to see. “Look, it says tomorrow night! We should all go, I’ve only seen fireworks in Holonet vids…oh, I can’t wait to tell Hunter!” Omega clutched the flier, staring at the artwork and large letters announcing the event on the paper.

Wrecker snapped out of his thoughts, and couldn’t help but smile at seeing her so happy at the idea, acting like a kid should. “Yeah, big explosions in the sky, right up my alley! It’ll be great! We’ll definitely go!” Wrecker glimpsed down at Omega, who now had that impish twinkle in her eyes again as she did before when talking about you. “You should invite her to go with you!” Her eyes darkened. “You should ask her on a date.”

“Omega…” Wrecker started, feeling heat creep up his neck again.

“Wrecker, I bet it would make her happy! She likes you, I know it. I can tell! Even Tech notices!”

Wrecker rubbed his face again, the thought of asking you to the fireworks show as a date made his heart rate increase. He couldn’t catch a break today, it seemed.

“I dunno, Omega…” She watched as Wrecker’s ears turned red. Omega folded the flier, putting it in her bag. “You’ll never know if she likes you back unless you tell her how you feel! I saw a vid on the Holonet recently where the two characters liked one another but were too afraid to say it and…”

Wrecker stopped walking, kneeling down to Omega, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Look Omega…I know you’re just tryna help but this isn’t a Holonet vid. It’s a little more complicated than that…she’s a good friend and I’ll think about it, kay? I appreciate you looking out for me.” Omega pouted a little, but understood, knowing she was pushing a little hard. Wrecker smiled and ruffled her hair, causing Omega to giggle as he stood back up, continuing toward you.

“But if I did ask her on a date, ya really think she’d say yes?” Wrecker glanced down at Omega as they walked, fixing her now messy hair. “I do, and I think she’d be silly to say no!” Omega grabbed Wrecker’s hand, giving it a squeeze of encouragement. He swallowed, now actually considering this plan. “Like I said, I’ll think about it. Now let’s get going, it’s getting dark and I’m starving!”

—//—

You couldn’t help but glance up every few minutes, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the crowd of Ord Mantell City. You were trying to focus on placing the finishing touches on some meiloorun tarts you planned on selling tomorrow, but every louder-than-usual laugh or tall frame you caught in your peripheral made your heart jump momentarily, your eyes scanning the marketplace. You were hoping it was him. You were always hoping it was him.

You remembered the first time Wrecker and Omega visited your small shop. They had excitedly approached, wanting to try everything.

You were intimidated at first, as Wrecker’s large frame and scarred face loomed over your small stand. But his warm smile and look of pure delight at your homemade goods pushed any nervous thoughts away immediately, especially when you saw how gentle he was with the small girl that accompanied him. They had almost sold you out that day, exclaiming they would be back whenever they could.

You began to expect them often, eager to see both Wrecker and Omega push through the crowd toward your stall. Omega was always excited to tell you about the job they had just returned from, and Wrecker always unabashedly told you how your sweets were better every time he tried them, the best in the Galaxy, even. He even brought his brothers along sometimes, who also couldn’t resist your baked goods.

More and more, Wrecker would linger at your stall whenever he could, talking with you, asking if you needed help moving things, watching you work and asking questions.

You sometimes had Omega help decorate your goods, much to her delight. Wrecker was also a great advertisement, whether he knew it or not, frequently bellowing how tasty your sweets were, which caught the attention of passing patrons. Talking was easy with him, and he made your day brighter, go by faster.

It seemed silly, but Wrecker made you feel special. He seemed genuinely interested in how you made each treat, asking questions about the baking process or what ingredients you used. He especially liked watching you decorate cakes, your steady hands creating beautiful edible patterns without mistake. You felt you could be your authentic self with him, sharing your passion with someone who enthusiastically listened. You couldn’t help but fall for him.

You tried to focus on your tarts, your mind now thoroughly distracted by your secret feelings for Wrecker. You imagined being held in his large arms, cradled against his broad chest as it rumbled with his deep laugh. Oh Maker, I’m in deep, aren’t I? You thought. A tiny, anxiety-ridden voice in the back of your mind you constantly tried to snuff out became louder. Why would he like you like that? He’s a soldier on the run. You’re just…you. Get a hold of yourself. He likes your sweets, that’s all. You sighed, feeling foolish at thinking you and Wrecker could become something other than friends. But before you could let the negative thoughts bother you more, you heard your name, loud and joyful. You looked up, seeing Wrecker towering over the crowd, vigorously waving to you with Omega in tow.

The anxious feeling that had moved to your stomach turned into butterflies at the sight of him. Omega ran up first, her eyes glued to your display of desserts for the day. “Woah Wrecker, we gotta try every single one!”

Wrecker approached next, smiling, his eyes on you instead of the desserts.

“It’s been a while. It’s good to see you.” You said softly as you set the meiloorun tarts to the side, meeting Wrecker’s eyes. Wrecker could feel his face heat up at your gaze.

He noticed a smear of frosting on your forehead, and some powdered sugar in your hair. You were beautiful. “Erm yeah…we uh got caught up with some stuff, we just got back. But it was nothin’ we couldn’t handle!”

“Yeah, we wanted to come see you right away!” Omega’s eyes peeked up at Wrecker, nudging his leg a little with her foot. Wrecker gave her a quick, confused glance.

“I’m glad you’re here, because today I have some new specials!” You pulled out a few sweets from your display shelf. “Spice rolls, savory puffcakes, and zoochberry jelly squares. The jelly squares are a new recipe, let me know what you think! Here, take a sample!” You placed two in your hand, holding them out for them to take.

Wrecker knew he couldn’t deny you, his fingers brushed against yours as he took the small desserts from your hand. Goosebumps ran up your arm as you felt his surprisingly gentle touch against your palm, wondering what it would be like to have your hand fully in his. Wrecker handed one to Omega, both popping the dessert into their mouths.

“Mmmm, it’s delicious!” Omega exclaimed between mouthfuls. Wrecker nodded in agreement. “I know I say this a lot but…it’s your best yet!” Wrecker grinned, his face absolutely lighting up as he complimented your dessert. “Aw, you always say that!” You teased, wiping your hands on your apron.

Wrecker chuckled. “Well, it’s true.” Your heart swelled at his compliment as you fell into familiar conversation, catching up from when you saw one another last. In this case, it had been about a week, since their last job went longer than expected. The sun had now set, Wrecker and Omega still sampling treats and talking as you helped other customers.

It was fully dark now, and Wrecker knew Hunter was probably grumbling about Omega not being back yet. You turned away to start filling a box for them to bring back to their brothers, and Omega nudged Wrecker’s leg with her foot again, slightly nodding her head toward you. Wrecker shook his head, trying to get Omega to drop it, knowing she was bugging him about asking you to the fireworks show.

Wrecker’s stomach dropped as he watched Omega sneakily pull out the fireworks flier from her bag, pointing at it, and then pointing at you. “You should ask her! We gotta go soon!” Omega whispered through her teeth, trying to stay quiet.

Wrecker sighed internally, his belly on fire with anxiousness. He knew this was his chance to ask you. He could face 100 rancors without hesitation, without fear. He already spends time alone with you at your shop. It seemed like a good idea to ask you out tonight, but now that he was here in front of you, he was frozen in his tracks.

“What’s that?’ You asked, turning back to them and seeing Omega holding the flier in her hand.

“Oh, there’s a fireworks show tomorrow!” Omega exclaimed as she excitedly bounced on her toes. “We saw these fliers on our way here.” She held it up for you to see.

You nodded as you filled their box with two of everything, throwing in some extras as a surprise. Omega quickly nudged Wrecker with her foot again, this time a little harder, more like a kick.

Wrecker gave Omega a stern, but pleading look, hoping you hadn’t noticed.

“Are you going to go?” Omega asked sweetly.

“Oh…I’m not sure.” You placed a few more goodies into their box, placing it on your small counter.

You had seen the fliers the previous day, knowing about the event already. You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t imagine you and Wrecker holding hands, watching the fireworks together. You had half an idea to ask Wrecker to go with you, but the thought of rejection quickly shut down that idea in your head. Silly thoughts.

“We are going tomorrow night! You should, too!” Omega looked up at Wrecker, her eyes flicking toward you.

“Oh, I don’t want to impose on you and your brothers. I have some new recipes I want to test out, that’s what I’ll probably be doing tomorrow night.” You closed their box, turning your back to them again momentarily to find something to secure the box shut.

Wrecker knew this was his chance, and knew deep down that Omega was right. If he ever wanted to explore if you and him could be something more, he had to ask you. Omega was just trying to look out for him, though he could do without the kicking. That’s what little sisters are for, right?Even if you said no, at least he could say he tried. Wrecker took a breath, finding some confidence as you were turning back toward them. It was now or never.

“Would you go if…um…you went with me?” Wrecker stuttered out, suddenly fully wishing he could sprout wings and fly away, heights be damned.

You were stunned for a moment, staring at him. Did he just ask me what I think he did? You hope you hadn’t misheard him. Was he asking you on a…date?

Wrecker tried to steady his nerves, waiting for your response, bracing himself for you telling him no. For a man so large, he felt small in this moment, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Your face lit up, your eyes shining. “Wrecker, I’d love to join you.”

Now Wrecker was momentarily stunned, not fully expecting that answer. His mind was trying to process the fact you had said yes. “We can meet here tomorrow, before the show?” You questioned, knowing you were blushing but didn’t care, handing over their large box of sweets.

All Wrecker could do was dumbly nod, his brain short-circuiting. “He’ll be here, don’t worry!” Omega beamed, speaking for Wrecker, taking the box from you, elated at the exchange that had just happened before her.

Wrecker nodded again, finally finding his words. “Yeah…uhh… I’ll meet ya here tomorrow!” A weight had lifted off his chest, noticing your flushed cheeks. You looked even more beautiful than before.

Omega nudged Wrecker, but this time more playfully, her eyes saying “I told you so!”

“Oh, we gotta pay!” Wrecker’s mind was running a mile a minute, finally taking his eyes off you as quickly starting to rummage through his belt pockets to find credits. He felt foolish for almost walking off without paying, especially after just asking you out on a date.

“Oh no, it’s on the house tonight!” You waved your hand, refusing payment.

“Are ya sure, we are getting a lot and you work so hard…” Wrecker started, feeling flustered still trying to find where he put his credits.

“You can pay for my dinner tomorrow, then we’ll call it even.” Your statement made him lose his train of thought once more, letting your words sink in, solidifying the fact that you were indeed going on a date. “Oh…” Was all he could say.

“Does that sound good?” You asked quietly, fidgeting with the hem of your apron, the butterflies in your stomach threatening to explode out.

“Yes, ‘course!” Wrecker grinned, feeling giddy now, still not quite believing that you had agreed to go with him.

Wrecker wanted to stay and talk longer, but knew they had to go. As if Hunter read his mind, Omega’s commlink beeped. “Wrecker, I think we gotta go, Hunter is probably grumpy that we aren’t back yet.” Omega stepped away, talking to Hunter on her device, letting him know they really would be back soon.

Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck. “We gotta go…but I’ll see ya tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course, you shouldn’t keep Hunter waiting any longer for his cakes.” You giggled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Your lips turned into a small smile, and Wrecker wanted nothing more than to taste them and see if they were as sweet as your desserts.

Wrecker gave you a shy wave as he turned, walking away with Omega.

You waved back, watching them disappear into the dark haze of the marketplace, your smile not fading even after they were gone.

“See, Wrecker? I told you she’d say yes!”

Omega seemed satisfied, chomping on a sweet she had taken out of the box, a spring in her step. Wrecker rolled his eyes playfully, this time nudging her with his foot, gently, of course. “Yeah, yeah! And next time, lay off the kicking, ‘kay? But thanks for the encouragement.” Omega giggled, happy for her brother, who himself felt happier than he had in a long time.

—The Next Day—

As promised, Wrecker met you at your shop in the late afternoon, the sun beginning to dip in the sky. You got dinner to go, and any pre-date nerves you both had were gone almost immediately as you walked through the marketplace, making easy conversation.

Wrecker already knew he didn’t want this night to end, his eyes glued to your face, watching every laugh at one of his dumb jokes, every movement of your lips, every light that caught your eye, wondering how he was so lucky to have met someone as incredible as you.

The sun disappeared behind the buildings, and street lights and neon signs of shops that would usually flicker on stayed dark, in anticipation of the fireworks set to start soon. The streets became more crowded as citizens left their homes and businesses to catch a view of the show.

“I guess we need to find a spot to watch the show.” Wrecker realized, looking up at the surrounding buildings that blocked any view of the sky.

“I know a spot.” You lightly touched his arm, gesturing down the road. Wrecker felt your touch, warmth spreading up his arm and to his chest as he looked at your hand and down at you. He wasn’t wearing his armor tonight, just donned in civvies, a thin layer of clothing separating his skin from yours. “C’mon, this way.” You gently tugged, leading him down between some buildings. He followed, your hand falling off his arm and back to your side. Wrecker had half a mind to take your hand in his, but didn’t want to cross any lines.

“There are stairs that lead up to the rooftop right over here. I come up here sometimes when I need a break.” You turned down an alleyway between buildings, starting up a steep set of stairs that led to the roof. Wrecker started up behind you as you led the way. You both got to the roof, and you weren’t lying about the view. You were above most buildings, your view of the sky unobstructed.

“Hm, the city almost looks nice from up here!” Wrecker joked as you sat on a discarded supply crate.

“That’s why I like to come up here. Get above the city, out from the grime for a little while and clear my head.” You patted the space next to you, inviting him to sit. The crate wasn’t that big, so Wrecker sat close to you, your bodies almost touching, the crate shifting under the added weight of Wrecker. He was worried it might break at first, suddenly feeling massive against your small frame almost pressed up against him. But he relaxed, seeing you comfortable with him being so close.

There was a slight hum of electricity in the air, buzzing between the two of you now that the night had come to its zenith.

Was now the time to tell you how he felt? Wrecker was thinking about it all night, waiting for the right moment to tell you how much tonight meant to him, how much you meant to him.

Wrecker’s mind raced, trying to think how to breach the subject without sounding like a creep or ruining everything. You were having the same thoughts, your leg slightly jiggling in anticipation, trying to think of the right thing to say in the now heavy silence. Wrecker opened his mouth to speak, but a large BOOM rang in your ears, the dark rooftop flashing with light, startling you both.

The show had begun.

Both of your attention went to the sky as more fireworks shot up from all over the city, cracking and banging, colors and sparkles filling the skyline. It was dazzling, and Wrecker couldn’t help but grin as the fireworks exploded above. He had never felt so content, sitting here with you, his stomach full for once, and watching explosions fill the sky. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

Wrecker sucked in a breath as one particularly big firework exploded, shimmering in all the colors of the rainbow, lighting the city in different hues, rendering Ord Mantell City almost unrecognizable. But Wrecker wasn’t staring at the fireworks anymore. His eyes were locked on you. Feeling his gaze, you turned your head up toward him, watching as his face desperately searched yours.

The colors reflected in your eyes, haloing over your head as more hues illuminated the darkness around you. You were so radiant, and he was overwhelmed with emotion. “What?” You asked softly, his gaze intensifying. Wrecker’s heart hammered in his chest, wanting to say how amazing you were, how beautiful you were, all the things he thought but never could say out loud. Wrecker let out the breath he was holding. You were waiting.

“You look so beautiful in this lighting, is all.” Wrecker uttered before he could stop himself, the words feeling natural as he spoke what he’s been keeping inside since he first saw you.

Your eyes widened at his soft statement, butterflies dancing in your chest as you watched a deep blush heat up his face.

“You mean that? You think I’m beautiful?” You moved closer to him, reaching out and gently placing your small hand on his much larger one, finally closing the distance between you.

You wanted him to know it was okay, that you wanted nothing more than him.

Maker, you wanted to kiss him.

Wrecker swallowed as he felt your hand on top of his, nodding his head.

“Y-yes…I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…from the second I saw ya…” Wrecker searched your eyes, the colors seeming to swirl around you. You brought a hand up to his face, brushing your fingers across his scars. You couldn’t find words, hoping your touch would be sufficient in relaying your feelings. He leaned into your hand, moving his head down closer to yours. “I care about you a lot, Wrecker.” Your voice shook with emotion, your own feelings now spilling out. “I’ve liked you for a long time…”

Wrecker stopped breathing as your lips were inches from his, your fingers tracing the side of his face. You needed to feel his lips on yours. “I’ve liked you for a long time, too…” Wrecker whispered, his voice low. “Can…can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

That’s all he needed to hear as Wrecker brought his lips to yours in a gentle, sweet kiss. You were surprised by his tenderness, knowing he was holding back, afraid he might hurt you.

With one hand still on his, Wrecker slowly brought his free hand to your shoulder, squeezing gently, wanting to press you impossibly closer to him. Your lips tasted sweeter than any of your desserts. Soft, perfect. Just like you.

The hand you had on the side of his face continued to caress, causing shivers to run down Wrecker’s spine. He’s never been touched so gently before, and he was completely undone as your lips moved together, the city backdrop falling away, the sounds of the fireworks fading.

The kiss deepened as your want for one another ignited like a firework, shooting up into the unknown and exploding with warmth and fervor.

Wrecker brought the hand that was under yours to the back of your head, his fingers twirling in your hair, bringing you closer to him, careful not to hold you too tightly. You gasped slightly into his mouth at his touches, a different type of desire beginning to burn in your belly, wanting more of him, all of him.

You moved your hands to his biceps, gripping the hard muscle under your fingers, kneading and feeling up his arms to his chest, resting your hands there, feeling his pectorals twitch under your fingers. You knew the power that lay beneath, but he was treating you so carefully, you couldn’t help but melt against him. Wrecker let out his own low groan, feeling your tender touch.

You’ve been wanting him like this for so long, you felt like you were floating, hoping this moment would never end.

Finally, you both pulled away to take a breath you both desperately needed, your lips swollen, breathing in one another’s gasps.

“You taste so much sweeter than I imagined. Better than anything I’ve ever tasted.”

Wrecker panted, wanting more. You were all that existed, all that he needed.

“How often did you imagine that?” Your lips were still close to his, and you could hear the longing in his voice.

“Every day.” He wrapped both arms fully around you, catching your mouth with his again, more passionate, more confident.

You smiled against his lips as his tongue tentatively probed at your lower lip. You let him in, pressing yourself fully against his broad chest, your hands moving from his chest to cradle the sides of his face, the kiss intensifying. He groaned at the sensation of your tongue against his, feeling your soft body under his hands, hoping this wasn’t a dream and he’d wake up without you, alone.

Wrecker became more bold, both his large hands moving to slightly squeeze at your waist, moving up your torso, wishing there wasn’t a barrier of clothing between his hands and your skin. He moved his lips to the the side of your mouth, placing sloppy kisses down the the side of your neck, trying to steady his racing heart as he felt your own rapid pulse against his lips. You lightly touched the back of his head, bringing his face up to yours. You both wanted to continue this dance, your bodies and minds on fire, burning brighter than what was still flashing in the sky, but the fireworks show was almost at its end.

Wrecker nuzzled his nose against yours, pressing light kisses to your cheeks, the side of your jaw, and back up to your lips. He didn’t want to stop tasting you.

“I care about ya a lot...” He muttered between kisses, his voice husky, now feeling lighter than air as his feelings were now out, no longer eating him up on the inside. You hummed in agreement, feeling the same way, trying to get your heart rate under control. “I care about you too, Wrecker. You’re special to me, more than you know.” You laid against his chest, feeling safe and secure in his arms. You sat there for a moment, entangled in one another, watching as the finale extravaganza erupted above you, the real world coming back into focus.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight.” You mumbled into his chest as his hands rubbed your back, knowing you had to leave the roof sooner or later, darkness enveloping you as the last firework shimmered out, lights starting to come back on over the city, marking the end of the show.

“Thanks for saying yes. I regret not asking ya sooner…” He chuckled, his deep laugh reverberating in his chest, feeling the vibrations against your entire body as you sat, watching the city glow and come back to life.

“I guess you’ll just have to take me out more often to make up for it.” You glanced up at him, hugging him tighter.

Wrecker grinned, leaning down and giving you a quick, soft kiss. “I plan on it, if you’ll let me. But tonight’s not over yet, do ya want to get dessert?” He mumbled against your lips. “I always have room for seconds, ya know that.”

His eyes flashed with want, emboldened now that he knew you felt the same way as him.

You smirked slightly, feeling Wrecker’s hands wander again up your torso, teasing the bottom of your shirt as yours traced over his neck and down to his back. “We can head back to my place for dessert, if you’d like.” You caught his meaning, wanting nothing more to continue what you had just started. Wrecker grinned, gripping your sides with anticipation.

“Well what are we waiting for!”

You squealed as you were suddenly lifted up with ease, Wrecker carrying you bridal style as he stood up with you in his arms.

“Lead the way.” He rumbled in your ear as he walked you toward the stairs that led off the rooftop.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply at the top of the stairs, your night far from being over. You laughed as he squeezed you tighter, knowing this was the beginning of something wonderful, something sweet.

@wanderer-six I hope you enjoy this Wrecker juice ☺️

[sarahsmi13s]

Top Gun Universe

I DO NOT consent to any of my work being copied or translated

⚠ AUTHORS NOTE!! PLEASE READ!! ⚠

this masterlist is the old masterlist! all of the links still work though!

you can find the "remastered" or the "reboot" of this masterlist here!

TOP GUN UNIVERSE

Top Gun:

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin-

‘J and S’ Universe  (jake seresin x sarah grant) -- oc series

Find Peace in the Changing Colors (jake x fempilot!reader) -- angst

Hesitation (jake x fempilot!reader) -- angst 18+ MDNI

Sirens vs Soulmates (jake x floyd!hunter!reader) -- smut and angst 18+ MDNI

You Better Not Die (jake x actress!reader)

‘Tell Them’ Universe  (jake x wife!reader)

Natural Disasters (jake x reader) -- angst

Good Pups Get Rewarded (jake x reader) -- smut 18+ MDNI

Deep Cover  Uncovered (jake x undercover!ncis agent reader) -- two part fic coming soon

You're Not Dying, Not Today || pt 1  pt 2 (jake x firefighter!reader) -- firefighter!au -- angst

Baking Playlists -- (jake x pilot!reader) for Rocktober

sunsets on the beach (a moodboard)

hometown hero (a moodboard)

 Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw-

Picture Perfect Tattoos (bradley x tattoo artist!reader)

Footloose (bradley x fem!pilot!reader)

‘Duckie’ Universe (bradley x twin sister!reader)

Didn’t Like Me That Much (ex!bradley x reader) -- angst

‘Bring Her Home, Bradshaw’ Universe (agent!bradley x mitchell!reader) 

90′s Bradley (a moodboard)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd-

Rodeo (bob x pilot!reader)

‘A Pair of Glasses and a Scope’ Universe (bob x marine!reader) -- coming soon

"you're more than a one night stand" (bob x bartender!reader)

Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado - 

coming at some point

Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia - 

coming at some point

Reuben ‘Payback’ Fitch - 

coming at some point

Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace - 

soft dreamy nat (a moodboard)

The Dagger Squad -

‘Lieutenant Rogers’ Universe

Rookie

Feuds are Stupid -- monster!au

Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell - 

"would you just shut up and kiss him already” (pete x simpson!reader)

Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson -

coming at some point

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky - 

"is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" (tom x kerner!reader) -- smut

Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw -

coming at some point

[toph3r-marshmell00w]

‼️ READ BEFORE FOLLOWING ‼️

Hewo!! ☆

I'm topher! I also go by toph, tophie or marshmellow :33 I'm a British, scemo, furry artist! Also a self proclaimed, nerd and geek! I will post my art, reblog, moodboards, random opinions, maybe even use this blog as a little journal! Another thing, I am the biggest tophfucius shipper, I will defend them with my life 🙏

My pronouns are he/thon/they/ze/xe + any neos ^^ do NOT use she/her or it/it's on me. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

I am genderfluid + xenos! I am pansexual as well as aegosexual!! :3 I am ambiamorous ^w^

I am in many fandoms, for example we haveeee my fav rn, clone high!! Then we have others like fbacc, fnaf, yfm, eddsworld, sandersides, furry, vocaloid, total drama(minor), MLP, South Park, SML, Invader Zim, FRED figglehorn, welcome home(minor), super Mario, smiling friends, hunter x hunter, rick and Morty(minor), tally hall, horrible histories, football (+ 442oons, I'm also a Bayern Munich supporter!!:33), and probably more I can't remember!! XD But I'll mostly be posting about clone high!! ^^

If you'd like to play games with me, I'm up 4 it but i don't play roblox (srry roblox players) , I used to but I'm more interested in minecraft ^w^ I play both java and bedrock! :DD

My music taste mostly consists of scene music of course as well as emo! Sometimes I like to listen to hyperpop, rock, metal, fangame/fandom music, music boxes(mostly the fnaf music boxes), game soundtrack, vocaloid, music from the old internet and sometimes weird al!! :DD I also have a soft spot for shakira (aka my wife/hj <33)

WHOOP WHOOP!! I'm also a juggalo! :33 my fav song from ICP is confederate flag! ^_^

I have quite a few favorite youtubers! These include, FRED (ofc) , memeulous, Danny Gonzalez, drew gooden, Kurtis Conner, tomska, markiplier, jacksepticeye, saberspark, Flamingo, one topic, TUV, messyourself, imallexx, willNE, James marriott and MUCH more!

I am very very VERY interested in history, I love it so much! Everything from the stone age to the 2010s! I love it!! I do hours of research, make powerpoints, factfiles, read about it etc!

I am also quite interested in things like world cups (precisely the 2014 world Cup), Maned wolves and lop bunnies, graphic novels and space! I love doing research about them and picking up random facts + key info about them! If anyone would like to hear me ramble about em please dm I AM BEGGINGGGG <33 I'll also listen to you ramble aswell :33

In total, I have 6 collections: badges/pins, posters, plushies, figures, stickers and cans! ^^

Other random stuffffzz!!

I'm a multi shipper and I ship like anything except proships :3 Though for clone high, I don't really like joanabe, Joanfk, candidworth, jfgogh (I don't get this ship I'm sorry) and harrucius (I mean it's cute but it's just not 4 me ^_^) My fav ships are tophfucius, tophabe(pls don't bully me 😭), joanrriet, Vanceaser, jfabe, butlertron x scudworth (I dunno the ship name 😔), kahlopatra, tommatt, paultryck, poly Martians, scutters (Scott malkinson x butters, one of my fav rarepairs <33), tophdi, jfucius, harold x leshawna, harold x Ezekiel, Ezekiel x Justin, Noah x Cody and like so much more ships that I can't even remember TwT

I'm a copinglink! My copinglinks are topher bus(CH), benatar (YFM) and tom(EW)!! Copinglinks are a coping mechanism to deal with stress, trauma, or other issues by identifying as someone / something knowingly, willingly, and actively! :3

Kinlist!! :

Top kins: Topher bus, Gandhi(CLONEHIGH!!) , pip pirrup, benatar, puff puff, tom (EW), Confucius(CLONEHIGH!!), pinkie pie and Heidi Turner!!

kins: Matt, Rainbow Dash, Twilight, axel chains, joan of arc(CLONE HIGH SEASON 1), van Gogh(CLONEHIGH!!), JFK(again CLONE HIGH!!), stan marsh, Cody and harold(TD) and Kyle(fbacc)!!

Forgot to mention but Im a shifter :3 (current DR is clone high :D)

OHHH ANDDDDD my birthday is 27th Feb! ^^ so erm that's cool :DD

Here's some of my art!

BOUNDARIES AND DNI LIST‼️

DNI LIST!

・basic DNI criteria (homophobes, transphobes racists, ped0s etc)

・PROSHIPPERS AND COMSHIPPERS.

・People who ship irl people.. That's just weird.

・people who bully/send death threats over ships..

・Anti-xenogenders.

・n@z1s

・ableists

・People I know irl.

・AI artists

・anti-furrys

BOUNDARIES!

・ Idm how old you are, you can interact but if you are above the age of 21 please don't dm me or become close. I have bad experience with people 20+ but idm if they interact or reblog or whatever just as long as they don't try to get close.

・I AM A MINOR‼️ please be aware of that when talking to me.

・If you need someone to talk to/vent to I'm here! ^^ but please ask before venting. Also remember that I am not a therapist and I won't be able to respond to all your vents. Another thing, don't just use me to vent. I'm not your own personal therapist that will help you with your problems :/ if venting is all you want to do with me then you are blocked.

・ do NOT use fem terms on me. Only masc or gender neutral :3

・I have a fear of ladybugs/ladybirds. Please do not bring them up or send photos of them or anything like that, it makes me incredibly uncomfortable, unsafe, anxious and very scared.

・As an artist, I do not like people reposting my art on other apps. I don't care if credit is given i am still incredibly uncomfortable. If you'd like to use my art for a profile picture or anything as such (like that'll ever happen) please ask :)

・DO NOT STEAL OR TRACE MY ART.

Thank you so much 4 reading!! I hope i can make some friends or mutuals! :DD

I hope everyone has a wonderful day/night!! Remember to stay hydrated and take care of yourself <33 love y'all!!/p :33

[rookthorne]

This event has been so much fun to partake in — @navybrat817 & @darkficsyouneveraskedfor did an amazing job making this community and I count myself lucky to be a part of it. 💜

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬𝑺

―  BUCKY BARNES  ―

֎  Biker!Bucky Barnes  —  Brotherhood & Bullets ֎  Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes + Bodyguard!Winter Soldier  —  Staya Volkov ֎  Farmer!Bucky Barnes  —  Peaches ‘n Cream Ranch ֎  Incubus!Bucky Barnes  —  Depths of Pleasure ֎  Modern!Bucky Barnes  —  Written in the Stars ֎  Nurse!Bucky Barnes  —  A Hero ֎  Pirate!Bucky Barnes  —  Sins of the Seven Seas ֎  Street Racer!Bucky Barnes  —  Brooklyn Pride ֎  Viking!Bucky Barnes  —  The Skógr

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑭𝑰𝑪 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻

12

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻

19,821

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑺

—  The AO3 SERIES can be found HERE.

𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐨'𝐬 𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── 𝐊𝐄𝐘 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

— 𝐀  = angst — 𝐖  = whump — 𝐈 = sick fic — 𝐃  = dark — 𝐃² = dead dove — 𝐏 = poly — 𝐊 = kid fic — 𝐅  = fluff — 𝐒  = smut

☁   𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐔𝐏 ─── Wilderness

───   Viking!Bucky x Fae!Reader ──   𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑 

Fae folk had lived on this land since time immemorial, but for all the time you had lived in your little nook of the woodland, you had only seen one man brave the trail. And for his kindness to all who lay in his path, creature and legend alike, you wanted to give the hunter a gift.

☁   𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐈 𝐒𝐩𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Diamond Necklace

───   Pirate!Bucky x F!Reader ──   𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑 

The Soldat’s captain was ruthless and never showed any quarter to his enemies. When an armada appeared on the horizon like a beast from the ocean, you knew the battle would be bloody and victory would be sweet, and the treasure would be worth more than silver and gold.

☁   𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Test Your Palette

───   Biker!Bucky ──   Moodboard

☁   𝐀 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Thermometer

───   Nurse!Bucky x F!Reader ──   𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

Superheroes came in many different shapes and forms. Yours just happened to be a man with dark hair, blue eyes, a warm smile, and scrubs.

☁   𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Coffee Cup

───   Barista!Bucky x F!Reader ──   𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

Bucky’s cafe was a home away from home, a place where you could be happy, spend time with your two closest friends, and your favourite fluffball. You just hoped that your admission wouldn’t change a thing - at least, you had to hope it would, in the best way.

☁   𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Cookie Tin

───   Baker!Bucky x F!Reader ──   𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

There were very few plans you had come up in your life with that rivalled the sheer brilliance of what you decided to do - ‘twas the belated day for it, anyway. 

☁   𝐀 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞

𝐒𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

───   Viking!Bucky x Fae!Reader ──   𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑 

Time had passed since you last saw the Viking galloping down the trails, and in his absence, your heart grew steadily fonder of the stranger - of his kindness, his softness. Fate, however, knew of this and sent a gift of its own your way, in the form of a proud steed, ridden by your Viking.

☁   𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Scars on the Chest

───   Winter Soldier ──   Moodboard

☁   𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Morning

───   Bucky x F!Reader ──   Moodboard + Blurb ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

☁   𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐬

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Sickness

───   Nurse!Bucky x F!Reader ──   𝐀 + 𝐈 + 𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

Your hero was determined to save the day, but you were about to discover something more precious than his priceless smile.

☁   𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

───   Bodyguard!Bucky x F!Reader x Bodyguard!Winter Soldier ──   𝐀 + 𝐖 + 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

Blood was thicker than water, but no bond was stronger than the one you shared with two of the fiercest and most savage protectors that stalked the earth, and when someone dared threaten what was theirs? Even the devil himself couldn’t save them.

☁   𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐀𝐔 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

───   Street Racer!Bucky x F!Reader ──   𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑 

Bucky was nothing if he wasn’t dramatic or pulling off one hell of a stunt, but this one by far shattered any limit you thought he wouldn’t break – you just had to hold the fuck on.

☁   𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Demon

───   Incubus!Bucky x F!Reader ──   𝐃 + 𝐒 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

The creatures of the night were stuff of legends, tales to tell children to dissuade them from misbehaving. You had ignored the stories as nothing more than what they were made for–they were just that, stories.  Oh, how you were wrong.

☁   𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Farmer

───   Farmer!Bucky x F!Reader ──   𝐅 ─   𝐀𝐎𝟑

Returning home to your husband after a long day was always a blessing you were grateful for, even when he was an insatiable menace; for home is where your heart was, and your heart was always with him.

☁   𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ─── Party Style

───   College!Bucky ──   Moodboard

[kthfae]

, ♡ ˖ ˚ my love (ZzZ) ୧ ꒰˵•ᯅ•˵꒱ 🍈💿

[yongblock]

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[stardaiyamondo]

꒰ 🍡 .ᐟ gon .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩

[woorbi]

愛を伝える.🌱

[rhodesiia]

[amendowin]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆ ࣪ 💻..★ﾉ 𝕞𝕚𝕜𝖺𝗌𝕒 & 𝕣𝕠𝗌𝕖́, 𝕞𝕠𝗈𝖽𝖻𝕠𝕣𝖽 🐈🗯️.˚🤲🍎!! 𝕔𝕦𝗍𝕖 𝖼𝗎𝕥𝖾 𝕜𝖺𝕨𝖺𝗂𝗂 🧸💥🍜

🧢🥤 ◯̶ ࣭ ࣪ ᥒ𝖾ᩚ𑄠 𝙿ꪮs͟[ 𝗍 ] 𓈒 ࣪ ⨟ ◌⊹꒪⋆ ࣪. ࣭ ࣪ 𫟼𫝥 🧽*𝗅𝗂𝗄ᦕᩚ ☆ 𝚁𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈ᦋ ✿∘៳ 𑫜킣쳋 𝙲𝚁𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝕗૭ᩚ𝚁＜��𝕖𝕖 ⊹🐈꒪