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maximotts · 2 days

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Are you just doing x reader drabbles? Because like 84 sorority Wanda and frat Natasha. “This is a one time thing” ahuh whatever you say bbgirl

hello hello here's your thing! It got to be like, twice as long as expected but that's okay!!

cw: 18+, minors dni; smut, soft dubcon, touchy Natasha, light spanking, oral from behind (w receiving), a hint of nerdy Wanda if you squint

“Nat.” Wanda called, the barest hint of warning in her voice, so little that Natasha had no qualms with ignoring it.

She didn’t miss a beat, sliding Wanda’s too tight gym shorts from her hips, catching the hem of her underwear and removing them in one fell swoop. When the brunette sent a text declaring her incoming arrival a few hours ago, Natasha assumed she’d end up in bed with the girl— just not like this. Wanda surprised her with needing a place to take her Russian Literature quiz, claiming both that her fellow sorority sisters were being too rowdy at her place and her distaste with walking across campus to the library for a simple online module.

But now she faced an unexpected distraction: Natasha’s constantly roaming hands. “Natasha…”

If Natasha heard Wanda, she was good at feigning ignorance, keeping her spot on her knees between Wanda’s legs, exploring her impossibly soft thighs with calloused hands. By all standards, she considered herself gracious, letting Wanda set up her bed, books sprawled around while she laid on her stomach in front of her laptop. She’d kept her hands to herself until now, even given Wanda answers to parts of the quiz; Natasha held out as long as she could.

“Natasha, stop it.” Wanda drew the line as Natasha’s warm breath hit the small of her back; she had no hope finishing her assignment if the other girl continued on. Not that her body agreed with her decision, the experimental touches drawing her attention much more than the last five questions on the screen in front of her.

The redhead pouted, an action Wanda would’ve been oblivious too if it hadn’t been accompanied with an indignant huff. Wanda might’ve been stubborn, but she was more predictable than she thought; even as she stood her ground, Natasha grazed one finger over the juncture of her legs and she twitched. “But if I stop, you’ll just lay here and make my duvet sticky.”

“I would not!” The protest was strong, but Wanda cursed her counterpart for being right, having been subtly rolling her hips into the mattress since Nat first sat next to her and started sneaking in those treacherous touches. And so what if she had; today was the last day to finish her quiz and Natasha be damned, she never missed a deadline. “Can’t you go play your game in the corner? I’m almost done.”

“Aww, but I’m playing with you right now, baby,” Natasha grinned, giving Wanda’s backside a painfully hard squeeze. She fell silent in favor of kissing over the round globes of Wanda’s ass almost reverently, covering the expanse of skin as dutifully as the brunette was typing. She took her time, savoring both the lack of resistance and clear frustration the girl under her fought with.

She thought she could deal with it, focus long enough to complete the last quiz question, but of course it had to be an essay question… just as Natasha nibbled along the crease where her ass curved into her thigh. It was so sudden and sharp Wanda didn’t think about hiding her shriek, “Tasha, please! I can’t think!”

In their months as whatever they were, Nat survived multiple kicks and elbows when she happened to push Wanda too far; a squeaky plea more desperate than dangerous didn’t fool her for a second. She wasn’t a bit surprised when she pushed Wanda’s knees up as easy as she would a doll’s, not a defiant push or shove to be found. “I’m only helping, princess. How are you gonna focus when you’re so needy?”

“I was focusing just fine without your help!” The tail end of her sentence fell off into a yelp, the sharp sting of Natasha’s open palm striking her proffered ass. Spanking was a fairly new thing to Wanda, not that she didn’t know what it was, but being on the receiving end… she liked it more than she’d yet admitted.

As if Natasha couldn’t tell after the first time she had her over her knee and was left with a whimpering mess.

She’d only done it now to watch Wanda’s thighs twitch, her sex now completely devoid of friction as she stayed in the air. Nat couldn’t wait any longer, had to get her mouth on the object of her own desire. She dived down, bending deep to kiss the other girl’s mound. “I’ll finish your stupid quiz for you later, just let me taste you.”

“Don’t you understand the word no,” Wanda sighed, well aware she was done for as Natasha’s tongue slid through her folds. As soon as she found her clit, Wanda was rocking back onto her mouth, spreading her legs further just to feel more. She knew she looked wanton, sounded just the same with all her moans, arms sweeping away her laptop to stretch them out and scramble for something to hold. “Would’ve been done by now if you weren’t so horny all the time.”

“You’re the one who came over looking good enough to eat, not my fault,” her voice was muffled, speaking an afterthought to sucking the sensitive bud into her mouth, sucking and slurping lewdly as Wanda’s back arched into the bed below. It didn’t take long for Wanda to drip down Natasha’s chin, hot and messy. “Fuck, I’ll finish your entire course this semester if I can taste this sweet pussy.”

“T-This is a one time thing… ‘m not a cheater-” Wanda prided herself in her good grades, earned all on her hard work alone. Natasha wasn’t the first person to offer their academic services, but she surely was the most convincing. She felt akin to a live-wire, her entire being shuddering each time the rough surface of Nat’s tongue dragged over her most sensitive areas. This was the first time she’d been taken from behind, but she knew better than to believe her own words that it’d be the last.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to work too hard to give Natasha a reason to fuck her.

“Inside… want your mouth..” Nat uttered a strained groan at Wanda’s request, licking the length of her one last time before backing up just enough to change course, sinking her tongue into Wanda’s waiting entrance.

Wanda wasted no time fucking herself on Natasha’s mouth, fingers curling into the sheets as she panted out her need. “Oh god, yes! Just like that, don’t move-!”

The redhead complied, perfectly content to let Wanda lose herself atop her, stiff fingers patting her full thighs to encourage the brunette on. Curling her tongue was Wanda’s downfall, thick muscle teasing her walls and forcing her over the edge. She held Wanda still, trapping her as she writhed and jerked, catching her name amidst Wanda’s cries and selfishly hoping anyone passing by the room could hear them. “Still want this just once, Wands?”

“Shut up and fuck me properly,” Wanda muttered, wiggling her ass against Natasha who was already pushing her sweatpants out of the way. One look back at her not-exactly girlfriend and the generous strap on set at her hips and Wanda knew this too would end up more than a one time thing. “I’d better get a perfect score on my quiz or I won’t suck you off until the next one comes around.”

#studying in peace in Nats room was never an option #seven things au.#wandanat #wandanat fic #wandanat smut #motts writes.#maximotts

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obsob · 3 days

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I'm an artist who has difficulty colouring work, so if you're ever comfortable sharing i would love to see what the process of someone else to who colouring does not come natural look like! I love how your colours turn out, so warm and cohesive without being washed out. When I look at the process of other artists I admire they often seem to hit on their colours quickly, so it would be very helpful to see the process of someone who struggles more, like I do.

hi !!! i posted process vids for these three drawings which u might find helpful but they go pretty quick so i will try and explain more!

-my big number one advice is doing underpainting, this is all the yellow u see me use in the process vids. this is partly so i can alpha lock them for easy colouring but also, i use semi-opaque brushes when doing my main colouring which lets the yellow peek through every part of the drawing, giving everything a uniform undertone! very very helpful i recommend it a lot :3 things like overlay / multiply layers can help bring all your colours together as well and make a big difference. i also like to use soft light / subtract layer modes. just play around!! i do however think its good practice for your drawing to work without those modes as well, you dont want to rely on them to make the drawing work, just enhance it! heres a drawing of mine with and without the various layer modes - a big difference and more impactful with, but the drawing on the left still looks fine without!

-as for how i go about choosing colours i hve two ways. mainly nowadays i just eyeball it but i also sometimes use colour pallets like these! how i make these palettes is by auto generating palettes from images in procreate which is so so helpful. if u see artwork u rlly like the colours its a great way of trying those colours for yourself without having to do as much thinking. when u get a sense for it u can start coming up with your own palettes!

-i cant talk abt this without talking about colour theory. i am not an expert but its really worth familiarising yourself with what colours work / contrast each other. if u want to, for example make a warm toned drawing u simply just stay away from cool toned colours! u can still have them in, but there still needs to be a warm undertone that can be done with the underpainting or just eyeballing! i hvent used palettes for a long while now and ive always found it easier to choose cohesive palettes with these than using the like big wheel or smth.

i prefer picking colours like this bc i feel like i can more easily control the undertone, than if i was picking off a colour wheel etc.

a lot of my success just comes from practice and experience! but smtimes colours r just stinky n are hard to get th vibes for . i usually just walk away and take a break and smtimes have an epiphany and other times if ur rlly struggling just throw the whole colouring out and start again !! and if ur rlly rlly rlly struggling take a look at ur actual drawing again. smtimes if ur composition/ shading etc is weird it makes the colours go on wack bc u dont have a good foundation!!!!!

anyway i dont think i explained this well. go forth and colour ur brain is big etc

#this is wildly unhelpful i think. anyway . ksndjejrkejsjdjskkdke #obsob ask

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dreamlandreader · 2 days

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Hounds of Love

Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Eris Vanserra storms through the woods in a rage, the last thing he expects to come across is a beautiful fae who is heading right into the path of his father. Eris knows he can’t just stand by and watch this oncoming storm, but in helping this gentle soul, he may have to sacrifice more than he bargained for.

Content Warning - Parental abuse, parental illness, off screen injury caused by a dog (very briefly mentioned).

A/N: Here it is - the piece that landed me with major writers block for weeks and weeks on end and then got stalled because life got in the way! Inspired by the song Hounds of Love by Kate Bush and Feyre’s encounter with the water wraith in ACOMAF✨

Part two will be out soon 💖 Hope you enjoy 💖

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

The hounds of love are hunting, I’ve always been a coward, and I don’t know what’s good for me …

In the limited light of the quickly setting sun a furious male and his hounds stalked through the trees.

The bronze leaves shivered in the wake of the Autumn Court heir, who bustled past in a burning rage. Embers of fire flickered at his fingertips as he watched his hounds run wild and free with a glint of jealousy burning in his warm eyes.

Eris Vanserra was sick. Sick of his court which became more and more suffocating by the century. Sick of his title which kept him tethered to this land. Sick of his father, at whose hands he now bled.

It had become a regular routine over the years, the way his father would manipulate and berate and twist the knife until Eris could bear it no longer and his calm exterior would shatter. Beron, unimpressed by his son’s outburst, would then beat him back into submission, and Eris would take it until his father got bored. Then he would slip out into the woods with his hounds, using the space to breathe, and to prevent himself from burning the whole damn court to the ground.

As Eris stormed, the yowls of his hounds swirled around him, twigs snapping beneath their heavy paws as they ran and ran. Eris was all consumed plotting his father’s demise. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them destroyed the other, and he would be damned if he gave up without a fight.

Lost in his own thoughts it took a few seconds for Eris to notice the sudden silence. The excitement of his hounds tapered off, and the only noise left was the ringing anger reverberating through his skull. A knot formed in his stomach, as he began to run in the direction of his dogs. Eris had spent centuries training his hounds, and they had a rhythm. They never once went silent unless he ordered them to. Not unless something terrible had happened to them.

Burning orange trees blurred in Eris’s peripheral vision as he ran into a dusty clearing, the fire at his fingertips warmed his hands as he prepared for a fight, but he faltered when he saw the largest hound of the pack lay flat on his back with his soft stomach bared to the skies, a slender hand scratching away at his furry tummy. Glancing up in shock, Eris was greeted with gentle laughter as a joyful fae female watched his two youngest hounds prance around her, play fighting for her undivided attention. Eyes gazing back down once more Eris tutted as he watched the usually stoic leader of the pack bury her large head into the female’s lap, snuffling into her skirts and drawing another delightful giggle from her.

“What well trained dogs I seem to have bred,” Eris spoke sharply, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

His hounds stiffened and stood to attention immediately upon hearing their masters sarcastic growl. You jumped to your feet in surprise, wiping your dusty hands on your dress, meeting Eris’s hard stare with a sheepish smile, crimson flooding your cheeks.

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise they were out here with anyone. Your dogs are beautiful,”

“My lady, you are lucky you still have your hands. My hounds do not usually take so kindly to strangers,” It was the truth, a few months ago a wandering merchant lost three fingers when he reached out to stroke the dogs without their permission. The fact that you stood before Eris not only whole but covered in fur from their loving affection was baffling to the Autumn Court heir.

“These dogs?” You ask skeptically, holding back a laugh, reminding Eris of the position in which he had found them.

“It appears they must have taken a liking to you my lady, a rare thing indeed,”

“I am not a lady,” you state gingerly. He should have noticed the lack of jewels, the plain dress, the absence of guards - but something about your sheer presence was so captivating that all of that had faded into the background.

“I do apologise, you will have to pardon my ignorance,” It was Eris’s turn to blush then. He prided himself on his intuition. His innate ability to size up his opponents had served him well over the centuries, allowing him to swiftly understand a person and their motives in order to stay five steps ahead of them at all times. In your enchanting presence however, Eris’s usual instincts evaded him completely.

“What may I call you then?”

“Oh right, my name is Y/N,” you reply, bashful as Eris takes your delicate hand and places a kiss upon it.

“Whilst it truly is a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I am curious to what you are doing alone in the forest so close to nightfall. You are aware of what lurks within the trees once the sun goes down, no?”

“I’m here to see the High Lord,”

Eris stiffened, so many questions flying around his mind as something thick and painful settled itself deep in his chest. Why would such a seemingly gentle being want to be anywhere near his beast of a father?

“Th-the High Lord?” was all Eris could stutter out.

“My family, we have a farm to the south, just above the border. Only for the past few years my father has been sick, and the crops have suffered greatly due to the droughts we’ve been experiencing,”

Eris’s heart cracked for you, for the pain that swam in your eyes. There was no reason he should care, he had met you a matter of moments ago, and yet a part of him ached to fix your situation.

“I would like to ask our High Lord for a reprieve on our tithe - just for six months. By then I hope and pray to the Mother to have our little farm back to the flourishing haven it once was,”

You were dead. If you got to his father and begged him for anything then you might as well sign your own death warrant. Eris had witnessed too many times the tithes that ended in bloodshed. Beron was too clever to kill anyone in a public forum, he knew it would lead to rebellion, but his spies would soon catch up with anyone who was lacking in funds and they would all mysteriously vanish. He had to do something, he couldn’t let you wander innocently to your death.

Oblivious to Eris’s internal struggle, you suddenly perked up, eyes widening,

“Oh how rude of me, here I am prattling on and I haven’t even asked how I should address you? You are dressed so finely you must be a Lord, please forgive me,” you stated, sinking into yourself as you took in his perfect appearance.

The Lord’s pristine shoes alone likely cost more than your family could scrape together in a whole year. Embarrassment tainted your good mood as you pulled your cloak tighter around your body to hide your shabby clothing.

Eris could sense the shame dripping off you, and unable to stop himself he placed a finger under your chin, and made sure your eyes met his.

“My name is Eris, but you needn’t concern yourself about formalities’ he told you “I am of little importance”.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Whilst his position in the Autumn Court provided him with the finest luxuries money could buy and any outsider could easily assume the heir had unlimited power and freedom, behind closed doors, under Beron’s harsh regime, Eris was nobody. He was liked by few and truly understood by none.

“Eris,” you say dreamily, tilting your head to truly take in the beautiful male before you.

Under your gentle gaze Eris feels a glittering warmth spread across his body, a primal rush to protect you, and then a life altering snap.

“You’re-,” he stumbles, unable to finish his sentence before you begin your own.

“Anyway I best be going,” you rush out, realising the passing time and lifting your skirts to turn. “It was terribly nice to meet you, but I really must be on my way,”

“Please don’t!” Eris blurts, gently grabbing your hand, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn to him, confusion taking over your face as he explains softly.

“The highlord, he isn’t a good male. He won’t hesitate to hurt you. If you approach him with any vulnerability he will do anything he can to manipulate you into making a deal you can’t keep, and if that doesn’t work he will just kill you,” he said, stroking a surprisingly calloused thumb down the back of your hand.

“But, maybe if I can just explain my situation to him then-”

“He won’t care, Y/N. You will die,” Eris’s eyes go dark and you know in your very soul he is telling the truth. “I just- I need you to believe me,”

“I do, it’s just-,” You faulter, breathing deeply before you continue.

“I can’t go home without this six months reprieve. We have nothing more to give. Surely if I turn up to the tithe next week empty handed he’ll just kill me anyway?”

Eris looks down at the wealth that drips from his body, and suddenly recalled the scandal that Tamlin’s ex-human had caused at the last Spring tithe. Rumours swirled far and wide of the Cursebreaker’s controversial gift to a poor wraith, and without a second thought Eris followed suit, pulling off the gold rings which covered his fingers.

“Here,” he says, shoving the pieces into your hands before he began to unclasp his cuff links.

“What, no! Eris, I can’t take this,”

“Yes, you can,” Eris insisted, moving on to his many earrings. “I will not let that beast touch you. I’m not in a position to offer you safety, but please let me give you some help,”

You nodded, frozen in shock, and watched as Eris filled your hands with rubies, opals and orange sapphires all set in the finest metals money could buy. Finally he takes out a fine leather pouch filled with gold coins and helps you to gently stuff the rest of his riches inside. Once the pouch is fit for bursting he removes his fur lined cloak and tells you to swap it for your own threadbare one.

Looking you once over, Eris swallowed down his instinct to press his lips against yours, knowing his relentless father would never allow for his eldest child, his heir, to be mated to a peasant.

Collecting himself, Eris let out a sharp whistle, making you jump as the leader of his pack came to his heel.

“I want you to take Hallie,” he said, his throat thick with emotion as he took your shaking hand into his own.

“Eris, I’m not taking your dog!” You argued, giving him an incredulous look.

“These woods are unsafe at the best of times, if you walk them with gold lining your pockets it is asking for trouble. She is a good hound. She will keep your safe,”

“I- I have no way to repay you for your kindness,” you breathed, silver lining your eyes, unable to fully comprehend the events of the last half hour.

“Stay safe, my lady, that’s all I ask,” he said, before kissing your hand one final time, petting his beloved Hallie on the head and then bidding you both goodbye as he disappeared between the trees, the sad howling of his remaining hounds in tow.

The walk back to the manor passed quickly in a mess of emotions, and even as Eris dragged himself to bed, accompanied by a glass of strong whisky, he tossed and turned all night, unable to forget the beautiful fae he left in the woods and the piece of his soul she had taken with her.

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Hope you enjoyed reading!

✨Let me know if you would like to be added to my general taglist ✨

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #vanserra brothers #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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earlgreydream · 13 hours

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🍓 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 5. || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee Promising a big fire, any fire Saying I'm the one, he's gonna take me I'm on fire, I'm on fire, I'm on fire Suffering is nigh, drawing to me Calling me the one, I'm the white light Beautiful, finite

a/n: it's been a minute, because i couldn't decide where i wanted to go with this story, but i feel like i have a vision again. if you've sent asks about this au (many of you have) know that i am considering and incorporating your ideas, and i adore them. much love x grey

icymi: (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

"James."

You looked up, realizing that was his name - Bucky's name - as he turned to Steve, who stood in the doorway of the master bedroom. The tension sent nausea spinning through your stomach, Bucky looking down at you, saying nothing for a moment.

"Wait here, babydoll," Bucky leaned down and planted a kiss to the crown of your head.

He stepped out, following Steve with a scathing glare. He hadn't ever told you his name was James - and you didn't even call him Bucky, afraid to do so without permission.

"What? What could possibly bring you into my bedroom calling me 'James'?" Bucky snapped at Steve, as soon as you were out of earshot.

"You can't stay here with her," Steve said quietly, seriousness filling his cornflower-blue eyes.

"What do you mean? This is my home, she... She is my home."

"You stole the daughter of the Stark family off the streets. They haven't stopped looking, they have endless resources, and they're getting way too close. James, if you want to keep her, you have to leave," Steve explained, watching anger sear through him.

"Daddy? What's wrong?" you peaked your head into his office, anxiously reaching out for his arm.

"I told you to wait in my bedroom!" Bucky snapped, making you jump back, fear in your eyes, a pang of guilt cutting through his anger.

"Go," he said more gently, running a hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

"I'll take care of it," Steve spoke, gesturing for Bucky to follow you.

He walked back through the house, the one he'd kept you in for eight months, building a life you were finally warming up to. The door to your bedroom - which was rarely used - was closed when Bucky came down the hall. Bucky quietly pushed it open, taking in the soft pink light that streamed through the curtains. You looked beautiful, despite your face being wet with tears. You were curled up in the corner of the bed, biting your fingertips as you cried softly, your cheek resting on your knees as you curled in on yourself.

"I know I disobeyed," you choked, holding something out to him.

Bucky approached you to see what was in your hand, surprised to see the pink leather strap that he'd taken to your backside many times before, whenever he'd felt you earned it in the past eight months. He took it from your hand, kneeling down in front of you.

“Please just spank me, I can’t bear to have you angry at me,” you begged hoarsely, once again shocking him.

“I need it,” you interrupted as he opened his mouth, and the words died in his throat.

Bucky stood, wiping your tears with his thumbs, cradling your face. His vibranium hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you up onto your knees, your head lowering to the bed.

He hushed your whimper, pushing up the slip around your waist. His palm smoothed over your bare skin, the touch tender, a silent communication that he was no longer angry. You kept your face buried in the pink sheets, darkened with the puddle of tears.

Bucky placed his hand on the small of your back, steadying you before the strap cracked against your delicate skin. You sobbed in relief, aware that Bucky wasn’t spanking you nearly as hard as he was capable, doing this for your benefit over his. The leather licked across your skin again, three times quickly in succession. Your cries turned to moans as Bucky took advantage of your exposed position, playing with your dripping sex. He watched your expression change as he gently circled your clit, feeling it harden under his fingertips, slick running down the skin.

“Want you to come, baby. It’s okay, just let me make it feel better,” Bucky coaxed soothingly, gently fucking you on two of his fingers as he continued to stroke you.

The sting in your backside had turned to a dull warmth, mixing with the heat throbbing between your hips. You were close to an orgasm after only moments of this — Bucky knowing exactly how to touch you.

A shudder rolled down your spine before you melted into a euphoria that left your thighs twitching and your cunt spasming. Bucky gave you a moment to catch your breath before wordlessly cleaning you up. He gently eased you out of your collapsed heap on the bed, adjusting you to curl up against his chest, your body folded between his legs.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair, squeezing you as if he could absorb the stray sobs that wracked your shoulders.

“We’re going to have to go?” You whispered, confirming that you had caught the end of his conversation with Steve.

“For a little bit. I will keep you safe with me, I won’t let anyone harm you,” Bucky promised, firmly pressing a kiss to your forehead, cradling your body in his arms.

.🍓.

Steve praised you as you drank the sedative Bucky made, the two of them preparing to take you to a private airfield, to get you far away from Stark’s looming investigation.

“You’ll keep me safe?” You whispered to Bucky, holding his forearm, your eyes glassy.

“I’ll protect you with my life. Nobody can take you away,” he stroked your cheek, nodding at Steve as your eyelashes began to blink heavily. You sank into the bed, your hand slipping off of Bucky and dangling over the edge. When he lifted you, your body was limp, affected by the much heavier dose you’d been given, to ensure you could get on the plane without an issue.

Despite Steve there with trained medical assistance, it gave Bucky anxiety to see you that way. Though you would have gone with him willingly, he still didn’t want to risk losing you, counting down the moments until he had gotten you out of the country.

Bucky carried you onto the private plane, lying you down on white leather seats. Steve handed him a blanket to drape over you, a gesture that reminded Bucky how thankful he was that Steve was coming abroad, not leaving him alone.

“I hate to do this to her,” Bucky confessed, the back of his finger stroking your cheek.

“She’ll be fine, she’ll adjust.”

It was dark when you came to, no idea how much time had passed, or where you were. After a moment of orienting yourself, you realized you were in the back seat of a large SUV, too lethargic to fully sit up.

“James?” You mumbled, too out of it to even think about the fact you spoke his name.

He looked down at you in surprise, softening at the sound of his name on your lips. He’d expected to be angry if you ever called him by his name, but your call out to him had the opposite effect.

“I’m here, my love. We’re almost home, where you can sleep properly,” Bucky promised, tenderly cradling your head in his lap.

“Where’s home?”

“Sokovia.”

You dozed in and out of consciousness, barely waking up to process that Bucky was carrying you somewhere, men speaking overhead in a language you couldn’t understand.

Your limbs were heavy, head pounding and full of fog. Maybe you’d woken — maybe you hadn’t — it wasn’t clear.

There was no sunshine to greet you. You’d finally awoken in a grey room — a storm raging outside in the same hues as your bleak surroundings. It was terribly cold, and much darker than the daytime you were used to.

A man walked by, shouting sharply in a language you didn’t understand. You jumped, cowering back against the corner of the couch you were on, startled by the unfamiliarity of everything.

“You’re okay, you’re safe here.”

At the sound of James’ voice, the tension left your back and you visibly relaxed once you saw him. He came to your side, touching your forehead to feel for a fever. You leaned into his touch, anxious for some familiarity, yearning for him to comfort you.

“How do you feel?” James questioned, tilting your chin up and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“M’heads foggy,” you mumbled, knuckling at your bleary eyes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he embraced you, clinging to him and burying your face in him. James stood, carrying you out of the office he’d been working in. He took you to what you presumed was your shared room in this new country, setting you down at the edge of the bed.

It was so different than your traditional home Bucky had before. This building was a brutalist design, stark concrete that matched the grey weather outside. The bedroom was more of a suite, a table and couch on one end, and the tub in the room instead of in the attached bath. Views out large windows overlooked an industrial city, centuries old and weathered by the cruelty of time.

You turned at the sound of running water, James drawing a bath for you in the huge bathtub. His hair hung down messily in his eyes as he leaned over, ditching his teeshirt to reveal extremely toned muscles. As you watched, a warmth began to spread through your chest, encasing your body as you ached for intimacy.

James looked up as he felt you approach, pausing to kiss your temple. He stilled when your hand went to his torso, fingertips tracing the definition of his abdomen.

“Will you get in with me, please?” You asked, looking up to meet his eyes, quietly holding his gaze.

“Of course. C’mere,” James’ voice came out in a whisper, his fingers tilting your chin up.

You kissed him softly, stepping closer so your bodies were touching, his arms snaking around your waist. This kiss felt different, so intimate and loving compared to your history. You exhaled as he pulled away to get in the bath with you, his back resting against the high side of the tub.

“James, I—” you began, straddling his waist and reaching below the water to touch him.

His head rested to the side, mesmerized by how sweet his name sounded on your lips, still so unused to it.

“Baby, wait. Our first time can’t be like this. You deserve better,” he insisted gently, stopping you from riding him.

The surprise was evident on your features, and his wet hand cupped your cheek to pull you into another kiss.

“I want to, I do, more than anything. Just not here, not in this state,” he spoke against your skin, relaxing as you nodded.

You sat down in the water, letting him massage soap over your sore body. He hummed softly as he touched you, fingertips trailing up and down your spine, basking in your short-lived peace.

The door swung open, making you jump and cover your chest with your arms, frightened by the intrusion.

“Don’t you knock?” James snapped, standing up.

Water dripped from his Adonis form, completely bare and on display as he climbed out of the tub. He wasn’t shy in front of the blond man who’d stormed in, one with harsh eyes and sharp features.

“It’s my house,” he snapped back in an unwaveringly impatient tone before launching quickly into the language you didn’t understand.

“Come,” James interrupted him, reaching to help you out of the bath.

You hesitated, not wanting to be seen naked by the stranger who had stormed in, but took his hand out of obedience.

“I’m not looking at you,” he waved dismissively before turning and slamming the door behind him.

“That’s Zemo, the baron who is hosting us. It is his compound. He won’t hurt you,” James gently explained, helping you out of the water and handing you a towel.

“I’ve got to go help him with some work. You’re free to roam inside, everywhere is stationed with his private security. Steve’s around here too, should you need something. Be my good girl?” He was apologetic, but you nodded bravely, watching him go.

Despite having more freedom to explore than you expected, you weren’t keen on wandering around the cement castle surrounded by strange men who didn’t speak your language.

You found that your new place had also come with a new wardrobe, likely in the rush to leave the states. A grin crossed your face as you pulled sweats from the drawer, unable to help yourself but be thankful for more practical clothing. It was cold in sokovia, colder in the cement and stone compound. You found matching socks, comfy as possible in your drug-hangover.

The growling of your stomach became impossible to ignore, resigning to find something to eat. A long hallway stretched out past your room, most of the adjacent doors closed. Unsure of what to do, you walked through the building, listening for a familiar voice.

“Steve?” You called, unnerved by the silent security that watched from doorways.

Your voice became more desperate, wanting the protection of your lover but unable to get it.

“I’m here,” Steve’s voice sent a wave of relief over you, seeing him in an office, closing his laptop.

“You’re awake, and hungry, I’m sure?”

A nod confirmed his ability to read your mind, and he led you down to an immaculate kitchen. Glass doors lined the dining side, looking out into frostbit gardens, stretching for several acres of the compound.

“You should spend some time outside on a nicer day. Some vitamin D would be good for you,” Steve noticed you staring.

You took a seat at the bar top as he set out some toast for you to eat while he made smoothies. The loud grind of the blender made you cringe, earning an apologetic smile. Steve explained that you needed rest and extra hydration to recover as you drank your smoothie, though you slowly began to space, losing track of what he was saying.

When James finally got out of meetings with Zemo, it was pitch black outside in the unforgiving night. He crossed a small courtyard to the building you were in — where the living quarters were, and went in search of you.

“Hey,” Steve stopped him in the hall, signaling to be quiet.

“She ate some, but definitely still out of it. She’s asleep in here, wouldn’t go back to your room alone,” he explained, letting James in his office, where you were contorted into a chair. James knelt down, gently rubbing a hand over your thigh.

“Baby,” he murmured, rousing you out of your fitful sleep.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You nodded, getting up and taking his hand. James said goodnight to Steve before returning to your suite, rubbing your back over the lilac sweats he’d gotten for you.

His hand slipped from yours as he went to change out of his suit, running his hands through messy dark hair as he pulled it out of its bun. You walked up behind James, wrapping your arms around him and resting your cheek against his back.

James’ hand went over yours, gently thumbing over your knuckles and standing in the quiet with you. You clung to him, your consistency in what was so much chaos, needing him to ground you.

#strawberry!au #stockholm!reader #strawberry kisses #marvel #bucky barnes #avengers au #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky smut #winter soldier #bucky imagine #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky

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0hmanit · 2 days

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Whats your art process like? You’re one of my biggest inspirations and I would love to understand how you work! also hi :]

Thank you so much! I believe I answered a similar question in this ask, and show you here some examples as well.

As for background art the sketching part is the shortest since it consists of simple shapes and blocks, it helps me to visualize the landscape as a whole without wasting time on the minor details which I do later. From time to time there are parts of the drawing that I'd like to highlight so I write it down or effortlessly scribble it.

And sometimes I just don't feel like planning ahead at all! like in this drawing^ I did sketch some of the middle ground as you see, but I didn't have an idea in mind of the final outcome, so I continued to render and experiment to see what fits best, and I enjoyed it very much as well! This whole sketchy style originally started as an experimental style I used to draw frames from the DP trailer, and the process evolved through time the further I kept using it. So it's only fair to let it evolve and change even with a bunch of rules in mind. It's hard for me to describe my process, There are times I have a clear vision of the scene I want to draw and so I just need to go through the rendering phases. And the other times I look at a blank canvas, an hour and a half of mindlessly drawing passes and boom, a drawing is finished. Being an artist is truly an amusing experience.

#ask

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donnerpartyofone · 3 days

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youtube

This morning I went over to the church to see my favorite guy, who is so often surprising and challenging. He seemed a little out of sorts today, stammering and losing his place; I sometimes worry about this old guy, and I was paying attention. Then at the end of the mass he said that they're having air quality problems in the rectory and the EPA is involved. I hope he's not getting brain damage!

It was sort of funny, though, because the homily was about having trouble focusing--not being able to concentrate, and having anxiety about the future. That was pretty relevant to me, medically and otherwise. I'm writing this on the morning of the new moon, just to be extra flaky, about how much trouble I have forming goals.

Pursuing goals is also hard, but step one should be having a vision, and that's the really impossible part. When I was a little kid I had two ambitions: to be a writer, and to be dead. The latter thing represents one of the main motivating forces in my life, which is pain avoidance. I think this is the chief motivator of many people without them even realizing it; comfort-seeking itself can be a form of pain avoidance. Pain avoidance is not a legitimate goal, it's more of a reflex, and it can become a preoccupying distraction from any kind of actual ambition (especially as fulfilling ambitions often involves some amount of discomfort). Focusing on what you do not want is not equivalent to focusing on what you do want.

I never had a very good idea of what I want. I found this out when I went into therapy as an adult; I couldn't formulate any notion of what I wanted out of life. I couldn't even come up with any masturbatory, pie in the sky fantasies. I might vaguely be able to say something like "a bigger, nicer apartment", but I can't come up with any compelling ideas about what that would even look like. I try, but I know I'm faking it. Certainly part of my interest in religion and occultism is the idea that I could train myself to really clearly conceptualize any kind of goals or desires. In the case of occultism specifically (and, let's be honest, many forms of self-help), visualization is always a key element. In recent years I learned that I am abnormally incapable of forming mental images, and I have come to believe that this is intimately connected to my inability to figure out what I want or how to get it.

Nearly all of my thinking is verbal. I found out what aphantasia was while talking to my dad, who is extremely visual with an excellent grasp of spacial relations (something I have almost no concept of). He was shocked when I said I can't really picture anything, asking me "Then how do you do anything?" He said when he decides to make a sandwich, for instance, he automatically sees himself performing the actions of sandwich-making, and sees the aspirational sandwich in his mind's eye. Visualizing is essential to his entire executive process. It so happens that I am aphantasic and I have a lot of executive dysfunction. I no longer think this is coincidental.

(I'm also very faceblind, and I think this is connected; something to do with the ability to reconstitute a visual memory and relate it to something that is presently in front of me. But anyway...)

Perhaps oddly, I am an artist, or at least I have been. But I've never been able to draw from my imagination, like at all. The best work I've ever done is all swipes; I am a great believer in swipes, it can reveal a lot about your personal style and obsessions and when you re-draw someone else's art. But I can't just sit and think up something fun to draw, even when I try to just doodle I'm usually responding more to the lines I see emerging on the paper than anything I'm thinking or feeling. I think this is related to the fact that I'm an obsessive scopophile; I take in a lot of detail from my environment, and I watch movies with the same attitude and frequency with which most people listen to music. Recently I started to joke that I have an image deficiency and that's why I have to consume huge amounts of visual media, I need the external infusion. But like, it's not that much of a joke, maybe.

In my 30s I randomly developed this condition where scar tissue grows over your corneas, and I had to have a series of freaky eye surgeries. My doctors always asked if I grew up somewhere warm and sunny and windy, if I do a lot of outdoor sports (sometimes this condition is called "surfer's eye"); I thought this was pretty funny since I couldn't be more of an indoor kid, although maybe cycling is somewhat at fault. Still, my preferred diagnosis is that I watch so much trashy and violent crap that it literally scars my eyes. It's as good an explanation as any! And it does have this weird synergy with my other visual problems.

Anyway, it's not as if I've done absolutely nothing with my life. Quite a few personal achievements piled up in just the last couple of years; certainly I've benefited a lot from luck and the good will of others, but nothing would have happened without my own creativity and commitment. I just wish I had more, you know. Vision. I spend too much of my life "taking one day at a time" and waiting for things to happen to me, assuming I don't have much control over my experiences. I'd rather be able to imagine something that I want to happen and act on it; regardless of whether the thing is going to happen, I'd like to be able to formulate a goal other than paying the rent, or like, not waking up and going to sleep in a state of stark terror. I'm not sure how to get myself to that place, but maybe saying that that's what I want can count for something.

Anyway here are some photos of the thoughtfully planted shrubbery from the church. I missed the full bloom of the weeping cherries, but as soon as they die off the shrubs below turn bright red, pink, yellow, and white. It's pretty inviting I must say.

#Youtube

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