About me: I go by she/her pronouns. I'm a gifmaker that dabbles in writing from time to time. I’m a working mom and old enough not to let drama get to me. So please don’t try to drag me into any. There is plenty of NSFW and 18+ content on this page, so if you're here I assume you're of appropriate age.
Currently deep in my Bucky Barnes era, so expect an unhealthy amount of Bucky content.
Tracking #userliga
Speaking of blogs: @dracaria-dracarys is my sideblog for all things historical and historical fantasy
All my writing goes to this blog. I write for The Last Kingdom, A Knight for the Seven Kingdoms, House of the Dragon and of course Bucky Barnes (I have a few fics about Masema from The Wheel of Time and Valentin from The White Lotus)
I accept requests but I'm extremely slow writer
୨ৎ JuneJukeBoxScribbles Masterlist ୨ৎ
↳ multifandom event
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms – Baelor x female!reader
A Whore for your Prince, I don't really know what this is. I just woke up horny and decided to make it your problem. It's just me dreaming about being Baelor's wife🤷Plot? never heard of it. Just SMUT 18+ with some pinches of fluff. Established relationship, p in v, oral, breeding kink if you squint, truly it's just a girls wet dream and boy do I want that old man fuck me senseless in all the possible ways.
House of the Dragon – Gwayne Hightower x female!reader
Burnt Bread And Broken Hearts // Words: 5,8K // Warnings: SMUT 18+// Summary: a wounded knight, a healer's hut, and a love neither of them can afford
୨ৎ AKOTSK AND HOTD Masterlist ୨ৎ
Marvel – Bucky Barnes x female!reader
Looking for something quiet SMUT 18+, oral (m receiving), AU set somewhere after Civil War where Bucky lives in the Avenger's tower basement, virgin!Bucky. You don’t fit in at the Tower, you don’t fit in with Tony Stark as your dad, but you do fit perfectly beside the one person who looks like he’s been waiting for a friend as badly as you have
I can see you staring at my ass SMUT 18+, suggestive, teasing, oral (f receiving), after Thundebolts timeline. A teasing game in the Tower kitchen slowly escalates into something unexpected.
୨ৎ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ୨ৎ
The Last Kingdom
Sihtric x female!reader
It’s just a hump, no strings based on this request SMUT 18+: friends with benefits medieval style😅
One time thing based on this request, SMUT 18+ (sihtric x reader x finan) Plot? Never heard of it. Just pure filth and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. Two handsome warriors and a girl that is brave enough to dream.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairing: Ormund Hightower x fem!reader
Authors note: June Jukebox Scribbles event
June 25th - Rude - MAGIC! / “I hate to do this, you leave no choice”
Warnings: none
Word Count: 580
Summary: Ser Ormund Hightower doesn't dance
Dividers by @/cafekitsune
EVENT MASTERLIST
You smiled despite your aching feet and the daggers your husband glared your way instantly.
You couldn’t care less. It was entirely his own doing.
You had been looking forward to Queen Helaena's birthday celebration for weeks, counting down the days like an excited child.
Since the war started, there have been almost no reasons to be happy, much less celebrate or dance, and you had wholeheartedly hoped that tonight, for a little while at least, the music would make the world feel a tiny bit lighter.
"I don't dance," your husband Ser Ormund Hightower had announced even before the first tune had even begun. End of the discussion. Or so he had thought.
So you danced without him.
If Ormund was determined to spend the evening leaning against a pillar with a cup of wine, watching the festivity with the stoicism of a carved statue, that was entirely his choice.
You had seen his face getting darker every time you accepted a stretched out hand with a deep bow. Of course you had.
You had noticed the way his gaze followed you across the room, the way his fingers tightened around his goblet whenever another lord placed a hand at your waist.
You simply chose to ignore it.
If Ormund disliked watching other men dance with his wife, the solution was painfully simple – he had only to set down that infernal goblet, swallow his stubborn pride, and ask.
The musicians struck up another lively tune.
A young lord approached and bowed.
"My lady," he began, "would you honor me..."
"I'm afraid my wife has danced enough for one evening."
The young lord hesitated, looking between the two of you.
"Lord Hightower has developed a curious habit of answering questions directed at other people," you offered him an apologetic smile.
A flicker crossed Ormund's face.
"You've scarcely sat down."
"I sat during supper."
"Not even for a half sandglass."
"You counted?"
"I had little else to occupy my attention."
You folded your arms.
"And whose fault is that?"
His jaw tightened just enough to amuse you.
The young lord cleared his throat and took one cautious step backward, before hastily disappearing into the crowd.
"I think you frightened him,” you turned slowly toward your husband.
"I hope so."
A laugh escaped you.
"Are you jealous?"
"No."
"You sound jealous."
"I sound observant."
"You glared at Lord Rowan."
"I looked at Lord Rowan."
"He nearly spilled his wine."
"He should hold it more carefully."
Your smile widened.
"You know, all of this could be avoided."
"Oh?"
"You could simply ask me."
He held your gaze.
"I told you before we arrived."
"That you don't dance."
"I don't."
"Then stop objecting when other men do," you said and stepped neatly around him toward the dance floor.
You had taken no more than two steps before Ormund’s hand closed around your waist.
You looked back, fury flaring in your gaze.
"...What?"
Ormund closed his eyes for the briefest moment.
"I hate to do this," he muttered. "But you leave me no choice."
Before you could ask what he meant, one arm slipped beneath your knees, the other around your back and the floor vanished.
"Ormund!"
He lifted you as though you weighed nothing and turned away from the dance floor.
"Put me down this instant," you hissed, drumming your clenched fists against his chest.
Oh, Liga!! My dear dear Liga!!! You have done it again!! This was such a delightful read! Gave me a much needed laugh while warming my heart with the bits of fluff!!! A fic I did not know I needed!!!
Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x fem!reader
Authors note: June Jukebox Scribbles event
June 24th - Groove Is In The Heart - Deee-Lite / “No, I couldn't ask for another”
Warnings: none
Word Count: 428
Summary: Everyone thinks Ser Gwayne Hightower has chosen the wrong sister
EVENT MASTERLIST
You had made your peace with it long ago.
The Sept would not be the worst place in the world. Maybe it was even better so. It was more than many third daughters received.
Your elder sisters would marry. Diana had golden curls and a laugh that charmed every visitor. Ellyn possessed graceful features and a talent for music.
You had neither.
So when the servants began racing through the halls and cries of "Hightower banners!" echoed through the keep, you felt no excitement.
"You are not coming downstairs," Diana informed you. "You will only embarrass us."
Ellyn nodded and before you could protest, they pushed you inside your room and turned the key.
You sat on the window seat, staring at the distant fields as the shouting and footsteps came.
The door flew inward and you jumped to your feet.
A young knight stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, a silver tower sewn upon his doublet, handsome enough to belong in a song.
Behind him stumbled your father, red-faced and breathless.
"Ser Gwayne, please," he said. "There has been some misunderstanding."
Gwayne was already crossing the room and dropping to one knee before you, looking up at you as though you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"My lady," he said, voice slightly shivering with nervousness. "I have come to ask for your hand."
You looked down at him. You knew that face. But from where?
A distant memory emerged.
A year ago, the road south of your father's lands, a man laying beside it. Young, bloodied, face streaked with mud.
"A robber," Diana had declared at once.
"Or a drunkard," Ellyn agreed.
"Leave him."
The stranger had struggled weakly to rise before collapsing again as you climbed down from your horse.
You had knelt beside him and uncorked your waterskin.
"Can you drink?"
Beautiful blue eyes had blinked open.
You had held the waterskin to his lips while he drank.
When he tried to thank you, the words had dissolved into a cough.
"Do not speak," you had told him.
Then you had risen and turned to the servants.
"Take him to the next village."
"My lady," one had protested, "we do not even know who he is."
"Someone's son,” was your answer, and nobody dared to argue anymore.
You had never learned his name. Never expected to.
Your father made a strangled sound.
"Ser, you must be mistaken. You are certainly mixing up my daughters. May I introduce you to Lady Diana?"
"No," he said softly. "I couldn't ask for another."
Pairing: Ormund Hightower x fem!reader
Authors note: June Jukebox Scribbles event
June 25th - Rude - MAGIC! / “I hate to do this, you leave no choice”
Warnings: none
Word Count: 580
Summary: Ser Ormund Hightower doesn't dance
Dividers by @/cafekitsune
EVENT MASTERLIST
You smiled despite your aching feet and the daggers your husband glared your way instantly.
You couldn’t care less. It was entirely his own doing.
You had been looking forward to Queen Helaena's birthday celebration for weeks, counting down the days like an excited child.
Since the war started, there have been almost no reasons to be happy, much less celebrate or dance, and you had wholeheartedly hoped that tonight, for a little while at least, the music would make the world feel a tiny bit lighter.
"I don't dance," your husband Ser Ormund Hightower had announced even before the first tune had even begun. End of the discussion. Or so he had thought.
So you danced without him.
If Ormund was determined to spend the evening leaning against a pillar with a cup of wine, watching the festivity with the stoicism of a carved statue, that was entirely his choice.
You had seen his face getting darker every time you accepted a stretched out hand with a deep bow. Of course you had.
You had noticed the way his gaze followed you across the room, the way his fingers tightened around his goblet whenever another lord placed a hand at your waist.
You simply chose to ignore it.
If Ormund disliked watching other men dance with his wife, the solution was painfully simple – he had only to set down that infernal goblet, swallow his stubborn pride, and ask.
The musicians struck up another lively tune.
A young lord approached and bowed.
"My lady," he began, "would you honor me..."
"I'm afraid my wife has danced enough for one evening."
The young lord hesitated, looking between the two of you.
"Lord Hightower has developed a curious habit of answering questions directed at other people," you offered him an apologetic smile.
A flicker crossed Ormund's face.
"You've scarcely sat down."
"I sat during supper."
"Not even for a half sandglass."
"You counted?"
"I had little else to occupy my attention."
You folded your arms.
"And whose fault is that?"
His jaw tightened just enough to amuse you.
The young lord cleared his throat and took one cautious step backward, before hastily disappearing into the crowd.
"I think you frightened him,” you turned slowly toward your husband.
"I hope so."
A laugh escaped you.
"Are you jealous?"
"No."
"You sound jealous."
"I sound observant."
"You glared at Lord Rowan."
"I looked at Lord Rowan."
"He nearly spilled his wine."
"He should hold it more carefully."
Your smile widened.
"You know, all of this could be avoided."
"Oh?"
"You could simply ask me."
He held your gaze.
"I told you before we arrived."
"That you don't dance."
"I don't."
"Then stop objecting when other men do," you said and stepped neatly around him toward the dance floor.
You had taken no more than two steps before Ormund’s hand closed around your waist.
You looked back, fury flaring in your gaze.
"...What?"
Ormund closed his eyes for the briefest moment.
"I hate to do this," he muttered. "But you leave me no choice."
"Ormu..."
The rest of his name dissolved into an indignant squeak as a pair of hands caught you neatly around the waist, the floor vanished and you were simply and unceremoniously thrown over an broad shoulder.
"Put me down this instant," you hissed, drumming your clenched fists against his back while your feet kicked uselessly in the air.
He didn't so much as flinch, slowly striding away from the dance floor.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
Authors note:June Jukebox Scribbles event
June 21st - Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace / “I can't escape this hell,
So many times I've tried, But I'm still caged inside ”
Warnings: none
Word Count: 373
Summary: while Bucky still sees only the Winter Soldier, the children of Wakanda see only the White Wolf
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
EVENT MASTERLIST
"White Wolf! White Wolf!”
Bucky sighed and shook his head, but he was already turning around.
Within seconds, small feet came charging across the little yard in front of his hut, a pair of arms wrapped around Bucky's leg. A bunch of kids with shiny eyes and white pearly teeth bounced around him, all talking over one another, while the smallest of them held up a wooden horse with a missing leg.
"Play with us, White Wolf!”
“Carry me!"
"I asked first!"
"No, me!"
Leaning against the doorway, you didn't even bother hiding your smile.
Not a minute later, the broad shouldered, grumpy super soldier was on all fours in the grass, one giggling boy on his back, tiny heels nudging Bucky's sides as though steering a horse.
"Faster, White Wolf!" the boy shouted, pointing across the yard. "We can't let those traitors escape!"
Bucky lurched into a gallop, the children shrieked with laughter as they scattered across the yard, and you laughed so hard your sides hurt.
"You're good with children," you said later that afternoon while repairing the fence bordering the fields. "They adore you."
Bucky drove another nail into the weathered wood.
"They don't know me."
His answer came so quietly you almost missed it.
"If they did..." He paused, staring at the hammer in his hand. "They'd be afraid."
You set your own hammer aside.
"They look at me like I'm good," he continued and you could see a muscle tick in his jaw. "But I'm not."
"Bucky..."
He exhaled slowly and looked at you.
“I can't escape this hell. So many times I've tried, but I'm still caged inside and nothing can change that.”
An excited shriek split the quiet.
"There he is!"
Three kids barreled into Bucky, almost sending him stumbling into the grass. Tiny hands tugged at his clothes, proudly presenting the wooden toy he'd repaired in the morning.
"Our White Wolf fixed it!"
“White Wolf is the best,” another small voice echoed and then they were gone as quickly as they had come.
"I think they know you better than you know yourself," you placed your hand on his shoulder.
He didn't answer.
"You've been set free, White Wolf. Don't build yourself another cage."
Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
Authors note:June Jukebox Scribbles event
June 19th - Raise Your Glass - P!nk / “You can choose to let it go”
Warnings: suggestive, dom!Bucky Barnes
Word Count: 436
Summary: You're sent to dig up dirt on Congressman Bucky Barnes. You find more than you bargained for.
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
EVENT MASTERLIST
The gala was your chance. Everyone was busy being seen, glasses clinked, conversations flew and nobody was paying attention as you slipped into the narrow hallway behind the library.
You weren't guessing, you'd watched Barnes disappear down this corridor often enough to know there had to be something here.
Your bosses wanted dirt, whatever it was – a photograph, a letter, some stupid secret, anything that could crack the image of the man leading the polls as election season drew closer. Barnes was becoming untouchable, and your job was to prove he wasn't.
Your fingertips drifted across the walnut paneling, testing each carved section until one shifted beneath your touch.
Click.
"Gotcha," you smiled as the panel sank inward and a hidden door slid silently aside.
You stepped inside and froze.
Holy heck… your jaw slackened, mouth falling open as your eyes jumped around the semi dark room with a massive bed in the centre of it.
"So..." the word brushed your ear with the warmth of another person's breath.
You jumped.
"...this is where my little intern disappeared to."
A broad hand covered your mouth, muffling the surprised sound you let out.
"Looking for secrets?"
You shook your head frantically, but your eyes remained fixed on the walls, sweeping over cuffs, ropes, whips, chains, paddles... your pulse hammered in your throat.
Your back met the wall and a large metal palm closed around your wrists, pinning both your hands above your head.
A pair of impossibly blue eyes scanned you, looking rather amused than angry.
"Afraid, little spy?"
You drew in a sharp breath, and swallowed hard, looking up at him.
Bucky’s metal thumb stroked slowly along the inside of your wrist. A knee nudged your thighs apart, making you gasp.
"Listen carefully,” his eyes held your. "You have two choices."
"I'm going to count to three, let go, and step aside." He licked his lips. "You can walk out that door, forget this room exists and we never speak of it again."
A beat of silence.
"Or..."
The corner of his mouth lifted.
"...you can stay,” he leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear, and you whimpered. “You can choose to let it go and I will show you why none of these things are about fear."
"One... two... three."
Before you could even grasp the meaning of what he had just said, Bucky's fingers released your wrist. One step back and the space between you was open.
You looked at the doorway. Swallowed. Then back at him. You didn’t move. You crossed your wrists and stretched your hands toward him.
Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x fem!reader
Authors note: June Jukebox Scribbles event.
June 20th - All Shook Up - Elvis Presley / “Who do you thank when you have such luck?”
Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, suggestive
Word Count: 300
Summary: when the whispers at the court become too loud, Gwayne reminds you exactly why he married you
Dividers by @/cafekitsune
EVENT MASTERLIST
The door squeaked quietly and you hastily turned away, trying to wipe your face with your sleeve.
Too late.
Familiar footsteps crossed the chamber and stopped beside you.
"You've been crying."
Gwayne always knew when something troubled you.
"I'm fine," you murmured without looking at him. "Just a summer cold."
A small, disbelieving smile touched his lips. "Love... you're such a bad liar."
His fingers slipped beneath your chin, turning your face toward him.
"What happened?"
"It was nothing."
"Those old vipers again?"
"...Perhaps they're right."
His brow furrowed.
"If we asked to dissolve the marriage..." Your voice faltered. "You could find someone who can give you children…"
The words broke apart into a sob before you could finish it.
"Look at me."
He took both your hands in his, but you stubbornly kept your gaze on the gardens beyond the window.
"It's been a whole year," you sniffled.
"It's only been a year," he replied with a smile, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
"Can't you see how happy I am?" he said softly. "I still can't believe my fortune that I found you. Who do you thank when you have such luck?" His eyes held the same quiet wonder they had on your wedding day. "I would never trade you. Not for ten sons. Not for a kingdom."
Your lips trembled into a watery smile.
"Gwayne, you deserve..."
Before you could say another word, your husband’s knees hit the floor, hands sliding up your sides, pushing up the fabric of your dress and parting your legs so he could settle between them.
Gwayne looked up at you from the floor.
“It doesn’t mean I’m ready to stop trying,” he murmured and pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another higher up.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
Authors note:June Jukebox Scribbles event
June 19th - Raise Your Glass - P!nk / “You can choose to let it go”
Warnings: suggestive, dom!Bucky Barnes
Word Count: 436
Summary: You're sent to dig up dirt on Congressman Bucky Barnes. You find more than you bargained for.
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
EVENT MASTERLIST
The gala was your chance. Everyone was busy being seen, glasses clinked, conversations flew and nobody was paying attention as you slipped into the narrow hallway behind the library.
You weren't guessing, you'd watched Barnes disappear down this corridor often enough to know there had to be something here.
Your bosses wanted dirt, whatever it was – a photograph, a letter, some stupid secret, anything that could crack the image of the man leading the polls as election season drew closer. Barnes was becoming untouchable, and your job was to prove he wasn't.
Your fingertips drifted across the walnut paneling, testing each carved section until one shifted beneath your touch.
Click.
"Gotcha," you smiled as the panel sank inward and a hidden door slid silently aside.
You stepped inside and froze.
Holy heck… your jaw slackened, mouth falling open as your eyes jumped around the semi dark room with a massive bed in the centre of it.
"So..." the word brushed your ear with the warmth of another person's breath.
You jumped.
"...this is where my little intern disappeared to."
A broad hand covered your mouth, muffling the surprised sound you let out.
"Looking for secrets?"
You shook your head frantically, but your eyes remained fixed on the walls, sweeping over cuffs, ropes, whips, chains, paddles... your pulse hammered in your throat.
Your back met the wall and a large metal palm closed around your wrists, pinning both your hands above your head.
A pair of impossibly blue eyes scanned you, looking rather amused than angry.
"Afraid, little spy?"
You drew in a sharp breath, and swallowed hard, looking up at him.
Bucky’s metal thumb stroked slowly along the inside of your wrist. A knee nudged your thighs apart, making you gasp.
"Listen carefully,” his eyes held your. "You have two choices."
"I'm going to count to three, let go, and step aside." He licked his lips. "You can walk out that door, forget this room exists and we never speak of it again."
A beat of silence.
"Or..."
The corner of his mouth lifted.
"...you can stay,” he leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear, and you whimpered. “You can choose to let it go and I will show you why none of these things are about fear."
"One... two... three."
Before you could even grasp the meaning of what he had just said, Bucky's fingers released your wrist. One step back and the space between you was open.
You looked at the doorway. Swallowed. Then back at him. You didn’t move. You crossed your wrists and stretched your hands toward him.
Burnt Bread And Broken Hearts // Words: 5,8K // Warnings: SMUT 18+// Summary: a wounded knight, a healer's hut, and a love neither of them can afford
JuneJukeboxScribbles event, hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles
♯ 𝄞 Rules: Write a Scribble of 300 words max, each prompt is a song and the scribble must contain at least one line from it:
Maybe // Words: 390 // Warnings: none // Summary: Gwayne is a sweetie and a gentlemen
The Wrong Sister // Words: 428 // Warnings: none // Summary: Everyone thinks Ser Gwayne Hightower has chosen the wrong sister
Dornish Diplomacy // Words: 423 // Warnings: none // Summary: sometimes the quickest way to an honorable knight's heart is to make him just a little jealous
Ormund Hightower x female!reader
Make Me Feel // Words: 414 // Warnings: none // Summary: Ser Ormund Hightower surprises his wife at their wedding night
AKOTSK
Baelor Targaryen x female!reader
JuneJukeboxScribbles event, hosted by @societynsoelsscribbles
♯ 𝄞 Rules: Write a Scribble of 300 words max, each prompt is a song and the scribble must contain at least one line from it:
Teasing a Dragon // Words: 490 (sorry, this one run away from me) // Warnings: spanking, (kinda soft dom or maybe just very annoyed Baelor 😅 x brat!reader) // Summary: teasing a dragon has consequences...
Feel Good // Words: 300 // Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering // It's your wedding night and Baelor is a total simp for his wife.
Not Broken // Words: 300 // Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (m receiving) // Fix it fic. Baelor survives The Trial of Seven but struggles to get back on his feet and suffers from self doubt. Good that you are there to help your husband heal.
King of the World // Words: 300 // Warnings: SMUT 18+, angst // It's the night before the trial of seven and Baelor wants to spend it with you.
The Wolf and The Dragon, you all wanted a smutty thing, I give you a smutty thing 😅but a very sweet and fluffy one. Sorry, it's pwp again with a tiny bit of a plot if you squint. SMUT 18+, fluff, established relationship, p in v, oral. In short - Baelor just needs his wife badly. Reader is hinted to be from the north but without naming any particular house.
A Whore for your Prince, I don't really know what this is. I just woke up horny and decided to make it your problem. It's just me dreaming about being Baelor's wife🤷Plot? never heard of it. Just SMUT 18+ with some pinches of fluff. Established relationship, p in v, oral, breeding kink if you squint, truly it's just a girls wet dream and boy do I want that old man fuck me senseless in all the possible ways.
The Guilded Cage: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V, Chapter VI – reader - a lesser noble’s daughter – is sent to King’s Landing to wed Baelor Breakspear, a prince she’s never met and already fears. You're certain the crown doesn’t want you, only your dowry: your late father’s estate, guarding a passage too strategic to ignore. But in the Red Keep, nothing is quite what it seems… and sometimes the real dangers are the ones we conjure in our own minds.
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💜
Dear Micki! Thank you so much for popping in with this! 💖
This was harder than I expected 😝 and made me reread some of my own fics.
Let's sort them by fandom:
୨ৎ The Last Kingdom ୨ৎ
It's my first fandom ever and the reason I discovered Tumblr and AO3. My sweet boy Sihtric is my husband, my first real fictional love and the reason I started writing fanfiction at all, so it was extremely hard to choose, but I think these two are the ones:
Indelicate proposal SMUT 18+ – an unexpected proposal leads to more unexpected actions as you discover the surprisingly soft core of the young warrior seeking your attention
Braiding hair – Fic request: Can I request a sihtric x reader fic where she doesn’t know how to braid, so sihtric teaches her. and when she’s good enough he lets her braid his hair for battle saying it would bring him luck
୨ৎ Bucky Barnes ୨ৎ
My beautiful sad metal armed puppy eyed hero - I love him so much🥰🥰🥰
Trying Counts based on this request, fluff, angst, SMUT 18+ , oral (m receiving), p in v, Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in kindness. Even wounded and bleeding, he flinches from your touch, expecting pain, not comfort. Can your gentleness reach the part of him that still hopes? Can you show him that not every hand means harm… and that some are worth holding onto?
Sweet on you fluff, SMUT 18+, lots of sugar and a bit of suppressed feelings Decorating cupcakes for Mel's bridal shower should’ve been a simple task until Bucky Barnes offers to help. One frosting fight, a kitchen full of chaos, and a few stolen kisses later, it’s clear the tension between you isn’t just in your imagination.
୨ৎ AKOTSK and HOTD ୨ৎ
Yes, I've fallen into this trap too 🙈
My dear husband Baelor Targaryen I would do anything for my old man
A Whore for your Prince, I don't really know what this is. I just woke up horny and decided to make it your problem. It's just me dreaming about being Baelor's wife🤷Plot? never heard of it. Just SMUT 18+ with some pinches of fluff. Established relationship, p in v, oral, breeding kink if you squint, truly it's just a girls wet dream and boy do I want that old man fuck me senseless in all the possible ways.
Sad puppy eyed honorable good boy knight Gwayne Hightower
Burnt Bread And Broken Hearts // Words: 5,8K // Warnings: SMUT 18+// Summary: a wounded knight, a healer's hut, and a love neither of them can afford
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x fem!reader
Authors note: June Jukebox Scribbles event
June 18th - Come and Get Your Love - Redbone / “What's the matter with you”
Warnings: none
Word Count: 423
Summary: sometimes the quickest way to an honorable knight's heart is to make him just a little jealous
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
EVENT MASTERLIST
The moment you stepped into the hallway your wrist disappeared into a warm, firm hand.
"Gwayne?"
"This way," he'd steered you into a narrow alcove beyond the reach of the torchlight. Only when you'd stopped did he seem to realize he was still holding you.
His hand fell away as if burned.
"… Forgive me."
You rubbed the spot where his thumb had rested.
"I didn't know you were in the habit of abducting ladies from feasts."
"You should keep your distance from that Dornish lord."
You tilted your head.
"The handsome one?"
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
"He is a scoundrel."
"And?"
"He's only using you to gather information."
You folded your arms.
"I rather enjoyed talking to him."
"I noticed."
“He’s a very good dancer.”
“I saw.”
The words slipped out too quickly and a flicker of regret crossed his face. Too late.
You smiled.
"Ser Gwayne Hightower… have you been watching me?"
He drew in a shaky breath.
"I was... aware of where you were."
"Mm."
You took a slow step closer.
Gwayne's back hit the wall and your sleeve brushed the front of his doublet as you slowly raised your hand.
His next breath stuck somewhere halfway in.
"What's the matter with you?" you asked softly.
"Nothing."
You reached up and smoothed an invisible crease from his collar.
His chest started to rise a little deeper.
"You could have warned me in the great hall," you pressed your palm firmly against his chest. "Why bring me here?"
"I..." His voice faltered. "I thought it best."
His eyes finally lifted to yours, then, despite himself, they dipped to your mouth.
It was only an instant but long enough to make you smile again.
"So..." you murmured, feeling his heart racing beneath your hand. "You didn't bring me here because you wanted to kiss me?"
"...No," he said, almost breathless, “I would never presume…”
"Liar," you murmured, "I think you've been wanting to do it for quite some time."
He opened his mouth to protest.
You didn't give him the chance, rising onto your toes, you pressed your lips to his. A soft moan crushed against your lips as your tongue slipped into his mouth.
When you finally drew back, his cheeks were crimson, his hair had fallen slightly across his brow and all he could do was to blink at you in stunned silence.
"There."
You smoothed the front of his doublet where you'd rumpled it yourself.
"Now can we stop pretending you dragged me in here to discuss Dornish diplomacy."
