#.....i might not be able to cover the entirety of the ask ^.^*

[luimagines]

Oh!! I have a request! How about some magic shit happens and the boys are turned into kids! And reader has to take care of them! It can be one at the time or all of them at once, whatever you prefer. And maybe they remember what happened when they're back to normal? I love your writing, take your time to write and stay hydrated!!

Oh sure! How cute!!

Masterlist

Part one will include Wild, Sky and Legend

Content under the cut!

Wild

The giggles were contagious. You found yourself on the verge of laughing hysterically next to the small child.

Somehow Wild got hit from a wizzrobe to be no older than five years old and yet he's as if he hasn't changed. Stranger yet, you've gathered that he either must have been displaced in time or he was the only one to time travel. His scars are gone as well so it's not as if he was shrunk.

"Ooh! An apple!" He sprints towards the tree, running up the truck and latching onto the first branch he can reach. He then swings his body up and over it before he shimmies over to pluck the apple for the branch above.

"He's just as bad." Four laughs to himself.

"And yet he claims that he was the perfect soldier." Twilight frowns, standing under the branch to catch the kid in case he fell.

"I'm ok!" He calls down to the rancher. "You don't have to catch me! Papa lets me do this all the time."

You snort with your hands on your hips. "He must have had a lot of training."

"Or pressure." Warrior mutters.

That dampens your mood a bit. He makes a point.

You were having soo much fun just messing with the kid that you didn't stop to think about what his attitude actually meant. Was his carefree spirit beaten out of him? You hope not literally.

You hear him hit the ground and he runs straight to you, b-lining around Twilight to avoid him. You laugh at the Rancher. You didn't think he would take it to heart but he looks as if the kid just offended his entire legacy.

"Here!" Wild cheers, holding out a bright red apple in your direction. "You didn't eat breakfast. So you should eat too."

You flush and take the apple. "Thank you."

"You didn't eat?" Sky raises an eyebrow.

The little boy nods. "I saw them. They pretended they weren't hungry so they didn't have to eat the food."

You flinch. It was Hyrule's turn to cook. You had hoped to have gone unnoticed. Tou stand mistaken.

"Well... thank you, Link." You bite your lip, holding the apple up higher. "I was feeling a bit peckish."

He giggles and takes a bite out the apple he got for himself. "Aryll likes apples too. So I get to climb our tree to get them for her."

The group all relatively freeze. Wind especially.

"Aryll?" You try to keep the conversation going so that he doesn't catch on. "Do you take care of her?"

He nods, his face full of pride. "She's my baby sister! I have to take care of her, just like Papa says!"

"I bet you do a good job at that." You swallow your spit.

Does this mean he's unlocked memories too? You don't really want to think about it. Looking at the poor boy is starting to make you feel emotional. He doesn't deserve what he gets.

You take a bite of the apple.

It's bitter.

Sky

You stared and stared and stared.

Boyish laughs fill the camp as the others are also just at an lost to do. The only ones with any chance of corralling this kid are Wind and Twilight.

The group was down a member but also added the new challenge of dealing with said down member.

"Hello." The little boy stops running right in front of you, holding out a single pale purple flower. "This is for you."

You blink and take it gently. He can't be much older than six or seven years old. Much younger than any other in the group. Younger than the average age they all took up the mantle of hero. Young enough to have to idea who he is or what he will become.

"Thank you, Link." You say just as softly, placing the flower behind your ear. A few others squirm at the mention of their name. But you have no other choice to use it. The young boy wouldn't respond to Sky and he would have no inclination to abide by the unspoken rules they've set up.

He smiles back and hugs his arm close to his body. He's a shy boy but kind and just as gentle as he grows to be. He's innocent and curious but doesn't ask questions. He's incredibly trusting.

Your jaw flexes at the thought, but you won't let it change your facial expression. Sky seems to be waiting for something. You tilt your head down, meeting his eyes. "What is it, Link?"

He bites his lip. "....Would you....like to play with me? ...Please?"

You would never tell Sky that he has the most adorable puppy eyes in the history of existence. You never stood a chance. "Sure thing, Buddy. What do you want to play?"

He beams. "Hide and seek!"

"Maybe not." Twilight winces. You wince as well, especially when you see how Sky suddenly seems chest fallen. You're in the middle of no where and he has no way of coming back to you if he gets lost. Twilight explains it as such. "There's just not a lot places to hide, buck-o. So if you get lost, we'd have no idea how to find you again."

Sky pouts and looks upset enough to cry.

"We can draw." You blurt, wanting to save the moment.

"Really?" Sky perks up and looks around. "...But there's no paper."

You turn around and pick up a stick, snapping it in half and giving him the bigger half. "We'll draw in the dirt!"

Sky looks at the stick and pokes the ground with it. "...I used to do this with Zelda when we were bored. I don't think they have sticks at the Academy though."

"Yeah?" You plop yourself onto the ground, patting the spot next to you. "Tell me about it."

He smiles and sits down next to you, poking and dragging he stick through the dirt. "My loftwing is big and pretty but I'm too little to ride him yet. That's what Gaepora says."

You shoo away prying eyes and nosy ears.

Wind grabs his own sticks and you. "What's a lofting?"

Sky freezes. He's looks so lost. "You don't know what a loftwing is? Don't you have them on your island?"

Wind shakes his head.

Sky frowns and looks around. "I thought Skyloft was the biggest island and everyone knows what loftwings are."

He stands, looking towards the horizon. "But this is also a pretty big island."

You flinch. You didn't even consider that he wouldn't remember that he's on the surface.

Who's going to tell him?

Legend

"Where's my uncle?" The little boy asks. Once the smoke had cleared and the monsters were defeated, you had to take a look at the damage. This little boy stood where Legend once did. It seems that his clothes were changed with him, at least. Otherwise you don't know what you all would have been able to keep him from swimming in fabric.

You bite your lip and share looks with the rest of the group. The little boy looked scared and lost. He kept wringing his little hat between his hand as he looked for someone to answer him.

You gulped and got on your knees to meet his eyes. "What does he look like? Maybe we can try and find him together?"

You know where his uncle is. It was something had told you under the comfort of night, something he didn't really tell any of the others. But you can't look into his little teary eyes and tell him the truth and you certainly can't do it in front of everyone else.

"He's tall and strong." The boy looks more comforted now he gathered that you were going to help him. "He lost his hair but it grows on his chin instead."

"Bald with a beard. Can you tell me his name?" You smile and say your name. "What's your name?"

"I call him Uncle." He tilts his head. That's a no. "He calls me Link."

"Well Link, it's very nice to meet you." You're giving yourself extra brownie points for holding yourself together. "How old are you, Link?"

He frowns and lifts up once of his hand, sticking up four little fingers.

"Oh wow! You're already four years old." You try to keep things light. "Your uncle must trust you a lot since you're so big."

He smiles and giggles, covering his mouth with a small fist. "I get to help Uncle take care of the house. Sometimes he lets me help with dinner."

You smile back, trying to not let the image pull at your heart strings. Less you start crying on the spot. "I guess he'll need his little helper then. Come on, we'll all help you look for your uncle, ok?"

"Ok."

You stand up and stick your hand out. "Don't get lost now. Come on. We'll start looking."

Little Legend takes your hand and you look to others, finally, for assistance. You receive none. Only a few poorly hidden thumbs up from the others members.

"Traveler." You whine. "Tell me we can fix this."

He stares before nodding slightly. "Let me think of something."

You can only nod. This might take a while to fix.

Legend tugs on your hand, bringing your attention back to him. "Is uncle really faraway?"

"Uhh..." Your brain stalls before you figure the answer can't be so bad. "More like, we're really far away...From everyone. But we'll get back to find some people and then maybe we can find your uncle."

"You hear that Traveler?" Four says. "You have until we reach the next town."

You ignore the groaning. Legend looks so happy. "Good! He'll be worried about me!"

You tear up. "Let's fix this then, buddy."

Part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #accidental angst!!!! #whoops #.....i might not be able to cover the entirety of the ask ^.^* #they're just too cute! #i'll just try to get the vibes #it might needs a sequel

[juuuulez]

📋 | carmen berzatto nsfw alphabet.

don’t ask what possessed me today. it was definitely all the weed.

soo much nsfw under the cut….this is just paragraphs of porn.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act):

whatever ur carmy kink headcanons are i think we all agree that he’s really sweet afterwards :( he might suddenly get nervous or anxious and overthink everything you’ve done (“are you sure you’re alright?” “i know, i know, baby ‘m just.. i wanna take care of you, yeah?”) and you’ll have to assure him it’s okay! you loved it, he was perfect, he didn’t hurt you. he just wants some reassurance and then he’ll be finding you some water, a snack, whatever you need! (“just crackers? ‘cus i’ve got this new recipe, it’s a soup, i can make it—“ “nobody wants soup after sex, carm.”)

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers):

carmy doesn’t like many things about himself, initially.. until you’re quick to vocalise exactly how amazing he is. immediately, carmy is enamoured with just what he can do with his hands. his palm covering the entirety of your neck when you kiss, or how his fingers looked splayed over your hip. and fuck, his fingers! they’re really thick, and carmen secretly gets off on the fact that your fingers are so much smaller, so even alone, you’ll never be able to finger yourself as good, never be able to reach those spots that carmy touched with ease.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it):

let’s be so honest carmen berzatto marking kink is so real. it starts out as a practicality, pulling out to spill over your thighs, sticky white liquid that clung to your curves, and carmy found himself growing more aroused the longer he stared at it. now, even if you’re on the pill, carmy will pull out for the sole purpose of pumping his cum wherever he can, a physical reminder of what’s his, because despite all his flaws, you belong to him.

however, assuming carmy can hold back cumming well enough for this is bold, so it usually ends in covering your already sticky cunt and lower stomach in it.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory):

he jerked off with your panties once. it was near the start of your relationship, and carmen was so busy with the re-brand, he barely got to see you. so, one of the rare days he was over, he’d done some laundry for the both of you. and found some pink lace panties. and kept them. and, those nights he’d come home late and exhausted and slightly miserable, unable to call you for you were at home fast asleep, carmen.. used them to jerk off! sue him! he felt so guilty about it (poor baby) and admitted to it after a couple months of dating. he seemed so ashamed that you couldn’t help but go easy on the punishment… tying him to the bed and getting him off by only grinding over his swollen cock, wearing those same pink lace panties.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing):

of course he doesn’t. not properly, at least. carmy’s never had girlfriends, and maybe had a hook-up or two at fancy chef events in New York or Paris or wherever. nothing that mattered, at least. so this time, he’s careful and attentive. asking questions like he’s studying for a test, watching every single movement, every reaction. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking notes.

F= Favorite position:

ooof carmen definitely wants to see your face. he likes holding it in his big palms, whispering sweet words over your lips and swallowing your moans (“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it.. just one more for me, huh? fuck— your cunt fuckin’ wants it yeah? that’s it..”). probably missionary mostly, maybe he fucks you from behind one early-morning, his forehead pressed to your neck while the sun seeps in through the blinds.

G= Goofy (how serious are they):

not exactly serious, but he definitely gets into the zone. for him, sex isn’t casual, and it’s a time that means a lot to him. he’s choosing to be vulnerable for someone, and in turn, feels special that he’s allowed to see you like this. carmen can loose himself in the moment, his mind going uncharacteristically blank, too focused on the pure sensation and emotion connected with it. despite this, carmy can always be found gently tapping your cheek, pushing through the haze to ask “you with me, baby? feel good?”, because his pleasure only comes when you’re still into it.

H= Hair (grooming habits):

carmen doesn’t particularly allocate time to grooming down there, it’s not really a priority, unless his partner explicitly made it clear to him that was of interest. however, i don’t think carmy has the thickest of hair, just dark little curls in all the normal places. idk guys just thinking about shirtless lip…..he’s a pretty smooth guy.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty):

definitely depends. i wanna say a mix of both? when you’re into it carmen is so lovely, making sure to express how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. but private time doesn’t come around very often, so it’s usually instigated with a needy carmen coming home, exhausted from a long shift, his hands gripping at your waist before the words come out. his actions aren’t demanding at all, still gentle, but hurried and desperate to get inside your cunt.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often):

carmy is so a shower jerk person. i know guys i just know. he doesn’t like making a mess anywhere else, because it’s just an inconvenience, and cleaning the sheets or another shirt is just another useless task he doesn’t have time for. it’s rare he begins with the intention of jerking off, either. the hot shower melts away a day of tension, and carmen finds himself finally relaxing, finally tuning into his body, only to realise how much he needs this.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual):

we’ve already established the marking kink… and now listen 😝 i am a sub carmy truther guys! i can’t help it he’s so baby i need him to cry for me ;( but carmy definitely likes being bossed around, being told what to do, when he gets to cum.. it’s a change from being in control of literally everything, which most of the time carmen feels all he does falls apart, so he enjoys not having to think (which usually means second-guess and reconsider and debate and obsess).

L= Location (where they like to get it on):

every single carmen office quickie fic is SO SO SO SO SO SEXY they always have me foaming and barking like a rabid animal….however i’m gonna have to say his or your bed! he likes the idea of you being comfortable..bonus points for you guys probably fucking more often on the couch, since needy carmen can’t wait long enough to split you open :(

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons):

there are a variety of ways to get carmen in the mood, but his #1 is a confident partner who takes what they want. imagine carmy obsessing over the new menu, spending endless hours in the living room, papers and recipes and notes scattered over the table. you’ve barely gotten any attention all night, not necessarily in a needy way, just that this was supposed to be your night off together. the solution is actually quite easy: climbing onto the table, obscuring carmen’s vision of his work. before a protest can leave his lips, brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress, your hands are firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “you’re gonna eat me out, yeah? like you promised?” and he is DOWN on his knees, mind fucking short-circuiting, because suddenly there is nothing he’d rather do.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do):

carmen really doesn’t like seriously hurting you, so no intense spanking or choking. however i really love choking 🙄🙄 so i think he’d wrap his hand around your neck, his finger rubbing the hinge of your jaw, his warm palm a gentle assurance of the power he has without fully exercising it.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are):

pussy eating champ…carmen genuinely gets off on being able to make you feel good. his strong arms bracketing your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, holding you to his mouth while his tongue fucks deep. carmy can’t help but rut against the mattress, hips hastily thrusting in tune to your moans, the swollen head of his dick rubbing against the sheets. “please, baby, please.. c’mon, just a little longer, please— i need it so fuckin’ bad.” he’ll cry into your cunt after your first orgasm, needing to eat your sopping pussy in order to cum.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed):

soft, grinding rolls of his hips against yours, holding your cunt against the base of his cock, letting your clit rub against his skin. carmen takes it slow, making sure to hit the spongy place right up inside you, the one that makes you cry and squirm.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard):

carmen prefers to take his time with it, but more often you find yourself hurriedly making love on the couch, bench, shower, maybe even his car. clothes scattered around the room, a bra on the chair, carmen’s boxers under the coffee table. he’ll take you wherever he can, whenever the time finally allows it, and he makes it deep and fast.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things):

anything you want, he’ll hear you out. carmen loves to learn, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, and will willingly absorb anything you have to teach. that’s not to say he isn’t nervous, as he finds himself always double-checking you’re still alright, asking if it still feels good.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts):

definitely a multiple rounds kinda guy. he can’t help it! the sight of you laying there, stripes of cum over your stomach and shiny slick on your thighs, carmen finds himself hard all over again. expect a round two, maybe three from him, and even then he’ll probably eat you out again.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers):

carmen doesn’t see the use for sex toys, since he’d much prefer to be the one providing you pleasure. definitely not fully opposed, though, he’ll fuck you long and slow with a vibrator on nights where he just wants to watch and study you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves):

i 🩷 edging so carmen 🩷’s edging! carmy puts on this needy desperate front (“please, fuck, i need’a cum, ‘m not kidding.”) but there is NOTHING alike to carmy’s mind going completely blank after denying his third orgasm in a row, his cock swollen and throbbing with each pass of your hand, only for you to finally give him permission (“cum for me, carmy, i’ve got you.”)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk):

think about the lowest, guttural moans you’ve ever heard. as carmen gets closer, they taper off into higher whines, soft whispers into your skin about how much he wants this.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort):

now, carmen does not take disrespect in the kitchen, and clearly doesn’t tolerate people talking back. but you? there’s a certain fire in his stomach, when you glare at him over the pass, or don’t back up whenever he gets into your personal space. if you stand your ground, firm and sure about whatever you’re doing, carmen feels himself fostering a growing mixture of respect and arousal.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants):

i just KNOW carmen is thick…the stretch seems impossible every time, his cock filling up every inch inside your hot cunt, while carmen whispers that it’s going to be alright, that you can take it.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level):

higher than carmen has time for. hence the jerking off in the shower, and fucking you on the couch. he’ll take anything that he can get, for he knows time isn’t on his side.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after):

carmy will ask you a hundred questions about how you’re feeling, if you need anything, what he can do, before finally settling in beside you. sometimes he’ll lay there for a few minutes, before dragging himself up, uttering some excuse about needing to revise the new menu. you’ll fuss, try and pull him back down, and he’ll fold almost instantly.

#the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #the bear smut

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Pletonic yandere king and queen of hearts?

^Source

Platonic Yandere Queen and King of Hearts

“Have some more tea.”

“Uh thank you, your majesty.”

You gave a thankful nod to the servant, biting back the urge to repeat the sentiment. Shifting your attention to the cup of tea, you held your cup to your lips with practiced care. With a tentative glance directed at her, the Queen gave you a nod to which you continued to sip.

“You’ve only had a few crumpets, love. Here have some more.”

The King unceremoniously poured the plate of biscuits onto your tiny platter, smiling as he poured the entirety of the honey bail onto it. You gave him a nod before indulging, careful not to smudge your makeup. 

Things had been truly bizarre since you had fallen into the rabbit hole behind your dear friend. Able to traverse the land together it seemed that for as mad as this world seemed there were set rules. Specifically, one that made your dearest friend be called Alice. It was grating to hear others call your friend a name that was not their own; even worse you were hardly acknowledged. Many would straight-up ignore you or tilt their heads at you and ask your name. It was oddly alienating for this world to encourage your friend to commit to this role claiming a prophecy be fulfilled. And then simply sighing when it came to you, being just as clueless as you.

In a way it gave you the freedom to do as you pleased able to travel all around Wonderland, getting to know those who were capable of acknowledging your existence. Some of which had been those in the Heart’s kingdom. 

“Now that is settled with we can begin talks of this Alice-character. I believe it’d be best if we capture her and behead her as soon as we have them! ”

She waved her own tea cup around, haphazardly spilling her tea all about her. Making you wonder why she spent energy lecturing you at all. Her husband sighed, hands on his round rosy cheeks watching you eat the honey-covered crumpet. 

“Mmmm, that’s nice dear.”

You dabbed at your mouth, running your tongue over your teeth in hopes of clearing any remains of the sticky treat. Wouldn’t want to have any distractions while you fought your point.

“Perhaps there can be another way…a more peaceful option?” 

Focusing on your cup of tea, you looked into the reflection of the organ-shaped teapot. Watching as the queen’s face seemed to scrunch before she turned to you. With her crimson-painted nails, she held your face, turning your head to the left then to the right. 

“Of course not dear, violence is the only option. Now, King, they’re looking a bit gaunt, yes?”

“Of course dear.”

Once again you’re plea was ignored by the two of them who were now conversing intensely about how much more you needed to be eating. After all a proper royal heir was plump and well fed, they couldn’t have others of the court thinking you weren’t being fed properly. Huffing through your nose you dismissed yourself hardly waiting for the Queen’s release before making your way out of the hearts maze. Being sure you were far enough for your angry mumbles and stomping was out of their earshot. So caught up in your huffy exit you nearly ran over the rabbit frantically calling your name.

“Oh! W.B. I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I-it it is just fine, your majesty.”

“Your majesty, W.B. are you…have you been drinking hatter’s tea.”

“What?! No-well th-this might have s-something to do with just that.” 

He shuffled through his pockets, ears twitching along with his nose. The poor creature was really worked up. With a shaky hand(?) (or foot?) he gave you a scroll, an unstamped document that rolled over your feet when you opened it. You read through the first lines of cursive before double-taking running your thumb over the dried ink. 

“I, the Queen and King of Hearts, hereby declare that whosoever be appointed as the royal heir by their decree must adhere to the following rules and regulations—oh my gosh! I think I’m going to be sick.”

You haphazardly dropped the scroll to the ground, running past the rabbit who fumbled with the policy. The ‘rules and regulations’  that were spoken of told of horrible and gruesome punishments for those that so much as thought of slighting you. Being called ‘majesty’ or ‘young highness’ was one of them. Punishment for the accused was the equivalent of a scorched or ‘beheaded’ tongue, it was appalling to imagine. 

Torn by rage and helplessness you ran–out of the maze past the unpainted roses and idle card soldiers. You couldn’t stand to be here any further from your dearest friend, your dearest Alice while your company plotted to kill them. 

You were done.

Done with the absurdity of this world.

It was time to put a stop to it all. 

As you should’ve from the beginning.

Before they were wooed by Wonderland’s love for Alice.

Before they threatened their safety.

Before the others threatened you.

It was time to go.

Running with abandon you tore through the vegetation, uncaring of the way it stuck to your heart and card-patterned garments. Tearing at the seams of posh confinement you discarded different articles as the tearing branches demanded. Forging on you spied the bushel you had left your dearest compatriot to hide inside. Worry bubbled in your tummy as you noted the crumbs of a soft pastry caking your hands as you kneeled to the ground; forcing your eyes to roam through the blades of grass. 

“There you are!” 

You scooped them up, supporting their small form as you sat on your heels.

“Where on Earth did you find another shrinking cake!?”

They shrugged their shoulders and nervously dragged their foot along your palm as they continued to pout. You had to listen carefully but you could hear them. Fully used to their illogical desire for any available food—starved or full it must be eaten–you scolded them lightly. 

“Look, we don’t have time to fight about this…we have to leave the Queen is determined to have your head. I have a sneaking suspicion she’d not going to care whether your head’s the size of a sugar cube.” 

You patted yourself down, searching for the perfect place to tuck your miniature companion away. Finding the only space was the loose fabric around a makeshift pocket near your chest. With a little protest, your tiny friend climbed in, prepared for the jostling journey ahead. 

“Hey it’ll be okay, by this time tomorrow we’ll finally be away from this horrid place.”

“You’re right this is a horrid place, so far from the castle grounds! Guards! I want this patch of weed burned to the ground!”

You slowly rose to your feet hiding your friend with crossed arms. Dressed in battle wear: a spiny red armor the queen over a tightly fitted dress; the crimson wisps of her makeup were harsher and more violent than before, coupled with the dark eyeliner of a smoky eye. She sat on the back of some tortured creature that seemed to sport a glare at you of its own. skin–a pulsing pink, littered with pus-filled wounds, and stray wisps of hair and feather. 

“Your high–”

“Hush!”

Her red claws nails touched and you sealed your lips. She sent a glare to the ground below her beast only shifting her seat before sending her narrowed gaze. 

“Only an hour in the jungle and you’ve adapted their savage ways? Where are your manners, (Y/n)?!”

“Uhm your maje-”

“HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?!”

You could only helplessly flutter your lips at her screaming. Nearly shaking as you fought tears you held your ground. 

“I-I don’t understand what it is you want.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “So you have forgotten. You are still a child; misguided and ill-remembering.”

“What?! Wait hold on–”

“Now listen well child, you are to call me your mother and your father–your father. Do you understand?”

“But you’re not my–”

“GUARDS! Take the child back to the palace, the war that is to come is one I’d prefer you watch with lunch on the side.”

“Wh-agh!” 

Four card guards took your limbs and held you high. Ignoring your wriggling and protests, you nearly forgot about your hidden companion. No doubt clinging to the fabric of your clothes in the midst of your sudden struggle. You stilled only bobbing at the marching pace of the soldiers looking at the twisted perspective of the Queen ordering her troupes to move. She turned to you barely looking over her shoulder as her pointed teeth showed from behind her crimson lips.

“I’ll return when I’ve rid you of the parasite Alice! In the meantime brush up on the rules you silly child. No longer will you deny your right as my young heir. Ta-ta!”

With a wave of her hand and the crack of a whip, she moved with the procession. 

Out to behead your dearest Alice and all of those who stood in her way.

Who was safely tucked within the fabric of your dressings.

#yandere platonic #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere platonic Queen of Hearts #yandere platonic King of Hearts #yandere platonic king and queen of hearts #yandere parents #yandere alice in wonderland #yandere disney x reader #yandere disney

[ghostofskywalker]

Hi how are you? Well, I hope. I wanted to request:

"Should I stop talking?" || "Don't, your voice is very soothing" with Peeta Mellark please.

Thank you!

i'm doing well, thank you!! i absolutely loved this prompt, thank you for giving me a chance to write some hunger games fic!

words: 822

summary: You and Peeta spend time in a cave, attempting to fall asleep in the arena.

Belief in Love Can Outweigh All Odds

note: in this fic the reader is taking katniss' position as the female tribute from district 12 in the 74th hunger games. no specific combat specialty or other description is noted.

peeta mellark masterlist

It was cold, damp, and dark in the cave, and you knew that there was no way you were going to find sleep anytime soon. The amount of adrenaline currently flowing through your body was making sure of that, along with the sharp pain that still emanated from the sizable wound on your arm. But as bad as you felt right now, Peeta was looking a lot worse. He shivered and twitched in his sleep, the medicine you had almost paid for with your life working much too slowly for your liking. 

You didn’t necessarily believe the Head Gamemaker’s voice in the sky, that the Games could have two victors if they came here from the same district, but you also didn’t want to give up on the tiny flicker of hope that had taken hold in your heart, the hope that you would be able to go home without having to kill a boy you had grown up with. 

You cared for Peeta, and that alone was worth the pain of betrayal you might feel down the line. All of this had started as a ruse to get sponsors, the way you felt about each other, and so far it had worked. But what you didn’t really want to admit to yourself just yet was that those feelings were very quickly becoming real. It was a side effect of the games, you tried to tell yourself, the way that your emotions heightened by the hour, but you knew it to be false. The Capitol would never knowingly facilitate the growth of emotions like love or kindness in this arena, they laughed and cheered at the appearance of tributes’ animalistic tendencies, taking a perverse comfort in the way human beings would do anything if it meant they would get to walk away alive. 

And speaking of your fellow District 12 tribute, you watched as he began to stir awake. “Are you okay?” he whispered, immediately turning his attention to you. 

“Yeah,” was your slightly shaky response. “No one is going to find us here.” 

“How’s your arm? Does it still hurt?” 

You shook your head. “I’m fine. And you know, I should be the one asking you how you’re doing, not the other way around.”

“I told you not to risk yourself for me and you still did,” he said, a smile flickering over his face as he registered your weak attempt at a joke. “I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you for that.” 

“You don’t have to repay me.” 

“I can’t-” 

But you cut him off before he could finish speaking. “Peeta, I mean it. We’re in this thing together until the end, and right now just being alive is enough for me.” 

His hand reached out to rest on your cheek, and the look in his eyes was something you never wanted to forget. He certainly was able to act the part of the lovesick teenager better than you were, and part of you almost believed that this moment was real. 

And of course, it only became more believable when he leaned in and kissed you. 

You had shared a chaste kiss with him once before on the tour, as a way to ward off any rumors of deceit or trickery, but this was much more passionate. Both of you were covered in dirt and grime at this point, but you didn’t care one bit as you kissed back. The little voice at the back of your mind informed you that the entirety of Panem was probably watching you right now, but even that didn’t really matter. Right now, you just wanted to enjoy this moment. 

When you finally pulled away, there was a smile on your face that you would never be able to hide, no matter how hard you tried. “We’re going to be okay,” you said softly as you settled next to him, your head gently resting on Peeta’s chest. “We’ll win the Games, and then we can return home together. We can-” 

But he cut you off by reaching down to take your hand, getting you to turn and look up at him. “We should get some rest,” he said. “We’re not out of here just yet.” 

You weren’t sure you could truly get yourself to sleep, especially after what just happened between you two, but you nodded. “So what you’re saying is that I should stop talking?” 

“Maybe,” he said, a small laugh escaping his mouth. “Don’t actually, your voice is very soothing.”

You smiled before continuing to speak, telling Peeta random bits of information about the forest and stories from your family back home in District 12. You could tell when he finally fell asleep, his breathing slow and steady as you listed to his heartbeat, and all you could do was desperately hope that the two of you would actually be able to make it out of here alive. 

- the end -

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[jokeringcutio]

I see you have Crimson Peak listed for fics 👀

Picture this: Sir Thomas Sharpe doesn't have a sister and was never abused, therefore never got into the black widower routine. He's just a struggling inventor in London to wrangle investors for his machine because he's the last of his crumbling family line.

Reader is an heiress who rarely gets out because she's anxious and prone to panic attacks. Quite a sweet and pretty girl, but her parents are ashamed of her and hide her away.

Anyway there's a Halloween masquerade being held in town and both reader and Thomas attend (whether they sneak in or not is up to you) and they meet. They both feel more at home with each other than anyone else in the city, and start seeing each other secretly and fall in love.

Up to you if he asks permission to marry her or they elope and the parents pay to cover it up, but they get married and use her money to fund his inventions and fix up crimson peak. And have kid(s) to continue the family line.

A happy romantic story for two sweet and ignored people 🥰 (smut scene if you wanna, but it should be romantic)

-🐀

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader – Halloween (Sweet AU) Fandom: Crimson Peak Pairing: Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader Rating: Teen Summary:  AU in which Sir Thomas Sharpe never had his sister corrupt him and meets Reader at a Halloween masquerade.

Warnings: None Really. Romance. Talk about marriage and kids. Drama. Tiny bit of Angst? Sorry it was written in a rush. Possible Cameo for Albert Shaw.

Charity

In the comfort of your tower chamber, you stood, gazing out of the circle-top window at the people who passed in the streets below. You didn’t feel the need to be among them, content to be up here by yourself in a room full of comfort and little knick-knacks. You had your peace and quiet and you were content with it.

The wealth you had been born in, and the hefty salary that your parents paid you each month, was enough to ensure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger for the entirety of your life. Rich, others would call you. But if they could see your bedroom they might doubt that you were.

You didn’t feel the need for all the lavishness that money could grant you. You hardly spent a dime other than the usual necessities. Material possessions had little interest for you. Instead, you found solace in spending your money on charity, giving away some of your income to charities on a steady base.

It was almost fitting, then, that your heart would be captured by a man who was once a charity case himself.

You met him during one of the few occasions where you were allowed to venture out of your tower where your parents usually kept you locked away… like a secret. They were ashamed because you were still a spinster in your twenties. And you could not blame them. People looked at you oddly and whispered behind your back in the streets. And so you didn’t want to go out and be among them any longer, hiding yourself much to your parents’ relief.

But there were such occasions where you would go out. Usually small balls or events with family and close friends. Sometimes, to bigger events where you knew that people would not be able to recognize you.

You feared their reactions if they saw you, feared what they would say or do.

The yearly Halloween Masquerade was an event you dreaded. The stuffy ballroom, the leering gazes, the suffocating press of bodies all around - it threatened to bring forth the panic attacks that plagued your life. Yet tonight, as you stood at the edge of the dance floor, your eyes took in the beautiful sight of the latest fashion dresses and suits. Beautiful women and men danced together, their masks hiding their faces, yet they grew intimate in their dance. You wondered how it felt, had done so for a while, but at the same time weren’t keen to experience it yourself.

You tried to hide away, to not be noticed, despite the dress you wore; the silken emerald fabric hugged your curves and cascaded down to the floor, shimmering with each movement. The intricate golden mask on your face only partially concealed your identity, but it was enough to give you a fleeting sense of anonymity. People still stopped to ask you for a dance. Men still stopped.

You disliked their leering gazes, the way their eyes seemed to undress you from behind the masks. And so you tried your best to avoid dancing with them. Their intentions were clear, and you were not interested in any of them. Your heart raced, anxiety clawing its way up your throat. If only this evening could come to an end.

And then, a familiar face appeared among the crowd. Your savior. Giselle, one of the few friends you had, came rushing towards you in a gown matching your own. Her wide smile a beacon of relief.

"Would you care to dance?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind her mask. Finally, you were rescued.

Gratitude surged through you, and a genuine smile bloomed on your face. "I'd love to."

As you danced with Giselle, the familiar pressure in your chest began to dissipate. Her laughter, light and carefree, seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to your heart. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sensation of being alive. And you laughed; a pure, wholehearted smile.

Your joy was noted.

As you and Giselle danced, you felt the burning gaze of someone on your form. You carefully started to glance around.

“What are you doing?” Giselle asked, having noticed how your eyes traced the room.

“Someone’s watching me,” you mumbled, just loud enough for your voice to be carried over the tones of the music.

Giselle chuckled as she spun you around gracefully. “Of course, people are watching us,” she said, a sneer appeared on her face. “The Duke of Sparington has been trying to get my attention all evening. I’m so glad to get away. The guy’s in his forties and already has two kids and a tummy like a barrel. If I were to marry him he’d kill me in his sleep just by rolling over and ending on top of me.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh again, even though Giselle seemed to be grimacing at your reaction. It was obvious that she was repulsed by the man who had decided to chase her.

“Tell me, for the love of God,” you started, “That your parents won’t allow the match.”

But Giselle sighed deeply. “They’re much like yours,” she muttered, squeezing your hand a little too tightly as you continued the dance. “Eager to have me wed, even though they said to have given up on me already.”

Your eyes turned wide. “Well, you must convince them to hand you to another. If not younger, then at least thinner so you won’t be suffocated during your night’s rest.”

Giselle grinned at this, appreciating the joke. But you knew her situation was slightly different than yours. Albeit having been born in money pretty much like you had, Giselle’s dowry wasn’t nearly as large as yours. And her parents could not hide her away like yours had with you. The day for her to marry seemed to be closing in with each passing year.

You dreaded the thought.

If only we could marry for love, you thought solemnly. You held Giselle’s hand in your own as you spun around the room. And as the music swelled, your eyes drifted across the ballroom, settling on a figure who stood in stark contrast to the colorful array of masks and costumes. He was tall, slender yet muscular, clad in black as though he were an ethereal shadow amidst the sea of gaiety. His piercing blue eyes seemed to draw you in, ensnaring you with their intensity.

You couldn't look away. It was as if an invisible thread connected you both, pulling tighter with each passing second. Desire coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless. The world around you blurred, leaving only the two of you locked in this magnetic dance of longing.

This was the man who had been watching you. This was the gaze you had felt all along.

"Your turn," Giselle whispered, releasing your hand. It was then that the dark stranger approached, his movements fluid and graceful as he closed the distance between you.

"May I have this dance?" His voice was soft, yet carried an undertone of command.

"Of course," you breathed, entranced by the mysterious man before you. As he took your hand, electricity sparked between you, igniting a fire deep within your soul.

"Thomas Sharpe," he introduced himself as the two of you began to sway to the music. His low voice sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony as if you'd danced together countless times before. He was good, you noticed. Kept his rhythm well and moved fluently, despite his tall height and rather stiff appearance. This mysterious man took you by surprise completely.

You whispered your name and gazed up at the masked stranger. His blue eyes seemed warm as they lay upon you, peering through the holes of the black and blue mask. The silver lines only emphasized the blue of his eyes, making him seem more like a spirit than a man. Could he be real?

“I haven’t seen you here before,” you murmured, weakly, as you tried to focus on the steps you took with your feet. Focusing was hard, because Thomas’s scent and warmth distracted you, and brought your mind to places your mother would describe as the gutter.

How did this man manage to bring about such wicked thoughts, you wondered? Especially now that you could not even see his full face?

“Ah, yes. That is because I am not from around here,” Thomas replied, and that would explain it all. During your years living here, you’d become familiar with most faces of the high society. And many of them you wished you’d never seen. “I’m only visiting shortly in an attempt to raise sponsors willing to support my cause.”

“And what cause is that?” you asked, eyes meeting his as the two of you swayed gently from side to side.

Something in Thomas’s eyes lit up, like the subject you allowed him to talk about brought him real joy. Joy, and something else. Hope, you wondered?

"I'm working on a machine to mine red clay from the earth surrounding my family's estate," Thomas explained, his eyes burning with passion. "I believe it has the potential to bring great wealth, but I'm in desperate need of funding."

Red bells went off inside your mind. Another gold digger, you thought. You’d seen them before, met them before, although they never had such a great impact as Thomas had.

"Red clay?" You frowned, intrigued by the man and his ambitions. Was he not just another suitor seeking your fortune, but someone fueled by dreams and desires much like your own?

"Indeed, it's a valuable resource with numerous applications," he continued, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "But my family's fortune has dwindled, and our estate is crumbling,” here he paused, giving you time to think. “I'm determined to restore it to its former glory."

"Tell me more," you urged, your heart pounding as power and desire mingled within you. He was a man of ambition, and you felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As the music played on and the dance floor spun around you, Thomas spoke of his dreams, his lips brushing against your ear with each whispered word. The world outside ceased to exist - it was just you and Thomas, bound together by shared passions and undeniable attraction.

"Thomas," you breathed, feeling as if you were on the brink of something dangerous, yet incredibly thrilling. Your fingers intertwined, creating a bond that seemed unbreakable.

"Time seems to stand still with you," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

And in that moment, you knew that your life would never be the same.

Perhaps the decision you took was rash. But you had thought about it, had done so for years before this moment had come. You had refused every man who had come to your door simply because you hadn’t felt that spark. You even had started to think you were incapable of feeling such feelings at all. But then Thomas came onto the scene, and he rose feelings inside of you that you had never felt before.

Love. Lust.

Both feelings combined made you feel powerful and strong. If you could feel this for a man, then surely, you would have to chase the chance to be with him. If he wouldn’t want to have you, then so be it, but you at least had to try. You had always been honest about your feelings and had always listened to your heart when you made decisions.

Your heart raced as you pulled Thomas closer, your fingers entwined like tendrils of ivy. The music swelled around you, a wild torrent that threatened to drown out everything else.

"Thomas," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "I... I like you."

The words hung in the air between you, a fragile confession that could shatter at any moment. He looked both elated and afraid, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable. What an odd reaction, you thought, alarmed by the fear you saw in his eyes. Did he not want you? You knew it was only one meeting that you had, a few dances that you shared, but there was that spark. That moment when the two of you had gazed into each other’s eyes and had forgotten the world.

Surely, that must have meant something to him, right?

"Truly?" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. But then his grip on you faltered and you whimpered sadly when his arms fell away. A rejection, you thought upset.

"Sweet girl of mine,” Thomas whispered, the affection making you flinch because it felt so right – but you feared that in a moment he would be gone.

“I can’t give you what you need,” Thomas continued, voice laced with pain. As if admitting this hurt him more than you could possibly imagine. His hand reached for yours again, gently holding it.

“I haven't much to offer. My family's fortune is nearly gone, our estate in ruins...You’d be cold and far away from your family, living with a man who is hardly more than a bagger, trying to scrape back his family’s fortune and bringing back some lost glory to the Sharpe’s name."

"None of that matters to me," you assured him, feeling a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. It was as if you were free-falling, the ground rushing towards you at breakneck speed. “I would like to explore the possibilities of there being an us. Of you being with me.”

But before he could respond, the music screeched to a halt, leaving you breathless and off-balance. Thomas' grip on your hand loosened, and he looked away, his eyes flicking towards the shadows that lingered at the edge of the ballroom.

"Please excuse me," he muttered, slipping away from you like water through your fingers. You watched him go, feeling bereft and adrift in the suddenly too-large room.

"Who was that?" Giselle asked, appearing at your side with a concerned frown. "You look... shaken."

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured, still searching for him among the swirling throng of dancers. "He just... left."

"Perhaps it's for the best," she suggested, her gaze following yours. "Forget about him, darling. Dance the night away with me instead."

2.

The next day, you found yourself holed up in your tower chamber, the memory of your dance with Thomas haunting your every waking moment. You had inquired after him, researched him, desperate for any scrap of information that might help you understand the man who had so thoroughly captivated you. Luckily, your parents and their servants could provide you with all the information you might need.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe," you whispered to yourself, tracing the letters on the page with your fingertips. "Baronet and engineer."

You learned that his family line was dwindling. He was the last alive, with no heir to carry on the name. His house, once grand and imposing, now lay in ruins - a testament to the passage of time and the ravages of decay. But despite it all, Thomas still dreamed of resurrecting his family's fortune with his ambitious red clay mining project.

And you thought he might be onto something.

With renewed vigor, you set about drawing up plans for his machine, inspired by the conversation you'd shared while dancing. The hours slipped away as you sketched and calculated, determined to lend your own talents to his cause.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you spread the blueprints across the table, studying them with a critical eye. This was something real, something tangible that could bring you closer to the man who had stolen your heart in one dizzying waltz.

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured again, feeling the name curl around your tongue like a secret. "I'll find you... I promise."

3.

A new day dawned, and you found yourself summoned to the drawing room. The request, although not unusual, surprised you, because your mother demanded you’d be presentable. Fear gripped your heart at that because it could only mean one thing.

A suitor.

And how you dreaded to come face to face with a man whose visage or demeanor repulsed you. Especially now that your mind was set on only one man in the entire universe.

The door creaked open to reveal Thomas standing there in front of your parents, hat in hand, his black coat clinging to his slender frame. His gaze met yours, a piercing blue that sent a shiver down your spine and weakened your knees. This was the first time you properly saw his face and oh-my! He was handsome. More so than you had envisaged him to be in your dreams. It felt as if your heart stopped beating entirely and as if the world froze in a blizzard of roses and butterflies. This man.

But wait, had he come looking for you?

"Miss," he began, his voice soft as silk, "I must confess that ever since our encounter at the masquerade, I have been unable to forget you." There was something gritty about his voice that betrayed the truth of his words. As if he had tried his best to put you out of his mind and had failed.

You liked that, though. You liked the thought of him being unable to forget you. It meant he was as much on your mind as you were on his. Your heart raced at his admission, but you fought to maintain your composure.

Your parents, who had been watching the exchange with keen interest, seemed to light up at the whole display. Your father spoke with enthusiasm, "Sir Thomas Sharpe here asked for your hand in marriage,” he said to you. “I think it would be a wonderful match.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your mother turned to Thomas with a smile. “Sir Thomas, we would be honored to welcome you into our family."

Thomas stood rigidly, and you could have missed the relief that flooded his eyes entirely had you not been looking at them. There was a sudden warmth to his gaze that told you that this was what he had come for.

But at the same time, you felt doubt cling to your heart. You wanted him, but… he stood so rigid, so unmoving. Like a true gentleman, you thought. But were your parents aware of his misfortune, you wondered? Or had he tricked them into making a match? The rich spinster whose parents feel embarrassed, eager to marry her off to a man with a pretty title who seems to have captured their daughter’s heart. The first to have achieved this.

"Mother," you whispered, pulling her aside, and out of the drawing room where you would have a bit of privacy and the men couldn’t hear. "I don't understand. He is poor, why are you encouraging this?"

"Darling," she replied in a hushed tone, her breath warm against your ear, "you have the funds, he has the need. It's your duty to marry and secure our family's future.”

“His house is in shambles, you told me yourself,” you whispered. “Aren’t you afraid he will usurp all of my resources? Have you considered he might only want to marry me because of my wealth?”

But your mother shook her head and smiled. “Listen, dear, Thomas seems to behave like a true gentleman. You could do worse. Besides,” here she paused and you waited full of anticipation to hear what argument she was going to use next, “even if he is poor, he needs an heir. And it is your duty as a woman to continue the line of our family. And quite frankly, I haven’t seen you as interested in a man in all of my life. Just take this opportunity and don’t ruin it. You’re going to be a good mom, give birth to a son to ensure a safe future for yourself and our family, and I will finally have the grandchildren I so desire."

Anger bubbled within you, hot and fierce. You wanted to marry for love, not obligation. And you decided to tell your mother as much.

“I won’t marry just to be a breeding mare,” you hissed. “If I marry it’ll be out of love. Not out of obligation.”

The creaking of the floorboards made you look up in shock to meet deep blue eyes of Thomas as he rounded the corner. How much had he heard? There was a sadness in his eyes that quickly melted into a fierce determination. Oh no, your heart raced as your mind clouded with disastrous scenarios. His face was pale - paler than before - and his eyes widened in shock.

"Thomas," you tried to reach out to him, but he stepped back, the hurt in his eyes unmistakable.

"Forgive me, Miss. Coming here was a mistake. I must take my leave," he said, his voice barely a whisper. And without another word, he left the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind racing.

“Sir Thomas!” Your mother called out, running after him as fast as her skirts would allow. You knew you’d be in trouble now.

Don’t ruin it, your mother had said, only milliseconds before you’d done just that.  

You watched Thomas go, a flurry of black coat and wounded pride. The memory of his touch, his scent, and his voice haunted you, taunting you with the promise of what could have been. But as the door closed behind him, a cold, hard truth settled in your bones. You had lost him, and it was unlikely you would ever find him again.

4.

Days had passed since your last encounter with Thomas, and the ache in your chest grew stronger. The walls of your chamber felt suffocating, so you defied your parents' wishes and ventured outside into the bustling streets. Your reappearance caused whispers to spread like wildfire; some marveled at your beauty and kindness despite your reclusive nature, while others gossiped about your unmarried status.

Returning home, cheeks flushed from the cool air, your heart sank as you found a man you had known all of your life as Uncle Al - one of your neighbors – speaking to your father in hushed tones. It was apparent he was asking for your hand in marriage.

"Please, sir," the man said, desperation lacing his voice, "I can provide for her."

"Give me away?" You scoffed, anger boiling inside you. "To him?"

The man had known you from when you were a little child and was older than you by far.  You had been shocked by the amount of men at your parents’ door recently, but to see him. The neighbor who had always been so kind to you… It was unsettling.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, uncaring if it hurt the man’s feelings. “He’s nearly as old as you!”

Your father's eyes narrowed, clearly displeased by your outburst. “Nearly as old, perhaps,” he said, voice low like a warning. “But he is a good friend of our family and he deserves a bit of happiness.”

Your neighbor stood up a little straighter, a lustful gleam in his eye as his gaze fell upon you. You felt a shiver run down your spine. No, you thought. No way you’d give him the heirs your mother so wanted. Your heart already belonged to another and you had made up your mind a little while ago.

“And a bit more respect as well, don’t you agree?” The hiss made it clear that your father was not to be argued with, and so you directed your gaze down at the ground and muttered a brief apology.

Al seemed to accept it, for a smile took possession of his lips and he turned back to your father again. “Such an endearing creature,” you heard him say, voice like silk. “Whyever have you kept her away from us for so long?”

Because of this, you thought, sadly. Your parents might have feared this. And with a start, you realized how you had set your own demise into motion. That they hadn’t as much locked you away out of shame as well as to protect you from all the unwanted gazes and proposals of men twice your age or more. They knew you hadn’t wanted to marry and had given you the space. But now, society demands them to hand you over to someone. And who better than a family friend they had known all of their lives?

“It is settled then,” you heard Al say and lifted your gaze to see him shake your father’s hand. Your father forced a smile, though you recognized by now that it did not reach his eyes.

A measurement out of necessity. A must. You thought with a shock. Unable to look at the two men any longer, you turned on your heels and ran away. Your bedroom felt safe, for now, high up in your tower, as you threw yourself upon the bed and clutched your pillows tight.

“Not him,” you breathed through tears. “Not Al.” No matter how kind your neighbor had been when you were smaller, he was old and started to grey. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Thomas and didn’t have the same voice or scent.

And there he was again. Thomas never seemed to leave your mind.

After you calmed down enough, you pushed yourself off the bed. Your chest heaved with fury as you went to stare out the window, your breath fogging the cold glass.

You weren’t looking at anything in particular when your gaze fell upon the familiar figure of Thomas across the street. You’d been occupied with your own thoughts, and it took you a few seconds before you realized that your gazes had crossed. All this time you had been searching for him. You knew he was still in the area, knew he had made visits to unsuccessfully gain sponsors to fund his work. But you’d never been able to catch sight of him. And here he was, underneath your window, staring at you from across the street with silent admiration.

How long had he been there?

Your heart leaped. Not wasting another second, you rushed down the stairs and outside, the door slamming behind you.

"Thomas!" You called, seeing how he had turned and was walking away from you. Despite the street being busy this time of the day, you followed his tall shape, running past people and making your way zigzagging through the crowd. The top hat he wore indicated where he went. “Thomas, wait!”

But he kept walking. And just when you started to get out of breath, you saw him come to a standstill. Relieved, you caught your breath and ran towards him. It was as if he waited for you, standing tall and proud, his back still turned towards you. Then he slowly turned around to face you, a sad expression marred his features. His blue eyes were full of turmoil.

"Dear girl,” he murmured, his blue eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. "I know you must think me a monster, standing underneath your window like I have…”

You shook your head fiercely. “No, not at all,” you breathed.

“I must confess, I have been watching you more frequently these days. I tried to forget, but… I felt drawn to your window more and more, just to catch a glimpse of you,” Thomas admitted, silently. He hung his head in shame. But his blue eyes were kept firmly upon you. “My heart still beats for you."

His admission sent shivers down your spine, your desire for him growing stronger like a moth drawn to a flame.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Surprise was visible on his face, but only for a moment. Then, he carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace.

“When I said I would not marry out of obligation, I also said I wanted to marry out of love,” you whispered, aware that Thomas could hear. “It is you I have always been waiting for. I want no other.”

Thomas pulled away from the embrace and looked deep into your eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. He found none.

He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, his hands gently caressing your face. The kiss was soft and tender but quickly intensified. As you pulled away, the hunger in your eyes was evident. Without saying a word, you grabbed Thomas's hand, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you.

You led Thomas back to your home. “You must talk to my father again,” you said, still holding his hand in your own. You could feel his eyes upon you, burning with desire. “He just gave me away to another.”

“Another?” Thomas sounded as if he hardly could believe his ears, and you felt how his grip on your hand inadvertently intensified. Once he noticed his bodily reaction, he looked ashamed at your joined hands and relieved some of the pressure, holding your hand gently again.

“I said I wouldn’t, but,” you hesitated, chewing your lip pensively as the both of you stood in front of your parents’ home, glancing up at the tower that you slept in. “Since I have been going out, people have started to notice me.”

You turned to Thomas, eyes locking, and found a look of wonder in his. “A spinster,” you clarified, gently squeezing his hand. “Society has been building up pressure until my father had to relent. I need to be married for the honor of the family name.”

“Then lead me inside,” Thomas said, voice hoarse, almost as if there was a hidden second layer to his words. Inside, it purred inside your mind. Yes, that was where you wanted him. In you, around you, part of you. And so, you led him inside, determined to make your parents see reason. As you entered the parlor, their disapproving eyes bore into you.

"Father, Mother, look who I have brought home," you said, their heads turning to look at the two of you in wonder. There you stood, hand in hand with the man of your dreams. Thomas’s eyes were glinting, a tremble to his smile. Hope, that was the right word. He radiated hope.

"Thomas?" Your father sounded surprised. "The struggling inventor?"

“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” Thomas said firmly, taking you and your parents by surprise. “I might lack the funds for the comfort your daughter deserves, but I have an abundance of love for her. I asked you before and I beg you to consider me again. Annul the agreement with the other suitor to her hand. Your daughter and I are in love. And I will pledge to keep her safe and care for your daughter and our children, if we are blessed to have any, until the end of my days.”

The speech was long, heart-warming, and rendered you speechless. As you watched Thomas he seemed to transform into something else, something ethereal. A glowing creature, full of power and passion. It only confirmed the choice you had made.

Your parents stood there, silently, But you could tell by their faces that they were deep in thought.

"His heart is true, and he loves me," you insisted, gripping Thomas's hand even tighter. "Do you not wish for my happiness?"

A tense silence filled the room until your mother finally spoke, her voice barely audible. "Very well, we shall accept his proposal."

Relief washed over Thomas's face, his eyes brimming with gratitude and love. The weight of your decision hung in the air, heavy but necessary. And that night you had your first meal together. The next morning was spent walking and chatting, getting to know each other a little better.

And as the days passed by, you had no regrets.

Months later, with your dowry spent on tools and materials, you watched as Thomas began to build his machines according to a combination of your designs and his own. His hands, once soft and delicate, grew calloused as he toiled away in his workshop. You watched from the shadows, pride swelling in your chest as his dreams slowly came to life.

Life in your new home wasn't easy; the roof leaked, the walls were damp, and the cold seeped through every crack. But together, you made it work. When you discovered you were pregnant, the hardships only intensified. You were sick quite often and with no servants to tend to your needs, you had to do everything around the house yourself. You fell ill during pregnancy, running a fever that made Thomas fear for both your life as well as that of your unborn child. But you survived and got better. And despite the challenges, love kept you warm. Your shared passion was like an inferno against the bitterness of the world.

By the time your child arrived, a fragile, wailing bundle, Thomas's business had begun to flourish. You supported him unwaveringly, standing by his side as he navigated the treacherous waters of entrepreneurship.

"Thank you, my love," he murmured one night as you lay entwined beneath threadbare blankets, your child nestled between you. "Without you, none of this would be possible."

"Thank you," you whispered back, tears glistening in the moonlight. "For giving me a life worth living."

Slowly but surely, Thomas's business continued to grow, allowing you to repair your home and provide for your growing family. Life was still tough, but it was a life filled with love, laughter, and the knowledge that you had chosen the right path.

And so, with your children surrounding you, you lived out your days as a happy family, bound together by the unyielding force of love, triumphing against all odds.

~ Fin ~

AN: Liked my work? :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#sir thomas sharpe #Sir thomas sharpe x you #reader x thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe x reader #crimson peak fanfiction #enjoy the romance #sweet fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader

[queenie-avenue]

Never Judge a Book by It's Cover.

💌 ⤻ THE COVER, VALERIO MARCHETTI

—> did you really think that he was the one?

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader is an assassin, kidnapping, attempted murder, suggestive themes, talks of torture, mafia shenanigans, 1940s - 50s slang, valerio is a creep, reader gets shot

notes: thank you to @resident-cryptid who gave me this awesome idea for a mafia man, i hope you enjoy it. also, i'm not too sure where to set this time period but i do like the idea of them using slang from the old timey days.

💌 ⤻ archives.

A vial of poison rested in the hidden pockets of your clothes as you walked inside the venue event.

Everyone was dancing and laughing, bright looks on their faces. It was an antsville in here. How could they live with all the crimes they committed? How could they live their lives in splendour when people on the streets were starving to death?

Especially that man in the centre of it all.

The man who ran the Marchetti Syndicate.

Valerio Marchetti. The man you were assigned to kill.

Long gone were the days where you were anxious about the act of killing someone. No, for this victim, you felt excitement thrum in your bones as you approached the bar where he was seated, chatting with some men. People whom you recognised, a few judges, some corporate leaders and others, influential people in and out of the political realm. They were all wrapped around his tanned pinky finger.

"One martini, please." You ordered, sitting just beside the gaggle of men who talked on and on. You probably should have listened, but if you had to listen to someone talk about stock prices for more than a minute, you swore you might as well have just spiked everyone's giggle juice here.

Finally, Valerio noticed you and from the corner of your eye, you saw that he was hurriedly shooing away the rest of the men just to be able to talk to you, his eyes looking you up and down. "Well, hello there." He grinned at you as shivers ran down your spine. This... was a tad bit too easy, and your body immediately set into a cautious mode as you turned yourself over, giving him your best award-winning smile there was.

"Hello." You grinned as you leaned forward, grabbing your martini from the bartender.

"What a foxy little individual like you doing around these parts." He asked, running a hand through his gelled back hair, winking at you. On top of being the largest crime boss in the entirety of Italy, Valerio was also a known playboy; men and women alike were always photographed with him, but no one dared to say anything lest their entire family's blood be painted on the walls the next day. "I can see you're not around these parts." He smirked.

"Golly, is it that noticeable?" You chuckled as you took a sip of your martini before offering him a sip, establishing some trust between the two of you as you returned his smirk.

He took the martini glass gratefully from your hand before finishing it. Son of a bitch, you thought when you saw how rude he was despite having just met him.

"Trust me, baby, I can tell from a mile away when I see a deer lost in the wrong forest." He said as he called for the bartender. "Load us up with some good drinks. Shots, cocktails, whatever, just bring the big guns out." He gestured before turning back to you.

Yeah, definitely way too easy.

"What's the special occasion?" You flirted back, deciding to be bold and stroke a messy line down the clean seams of his suit.

"Seeing a hot piece of meat like you." He replied smoothly as he handed you a new drink to replace the one he had basically stolen from you.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Valerio slammed you up against the wall of the dimly-lit hallway, propping you up with his muscular build as his hands roamed across your body with no restraint. His veiny arms were all exposed thanks to you asking him to roll up his sleeves, faking it as something that you had a thing for. "Oh, god. You're amazing." He whispered into your lips as he bit them, drawing out just the slightest bit of blood.

Even with love, he seemed to be sadistic.

His larger than life hands roamed across your body, squeezing your bum as you gasped, causing him to smirk. "Sensitive there, are we?" He questioned and despite your best efforts, you did blush. You nod your head, and he took that as indication that you were liking where this was going. Without warning, he hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his before moving you to a table.

Your hands scratched at his back for support and you took this as your chance. Slyly, your hands reached into your pocket to take out a syringe filled with poison.

And you stabbed it into his back, injecting it into his bloodstream as he let out a gasp. One not of pleasure but shock, he immediately got off you, gasping for air as you watched him tumble towards the ground. He shifted around, grabbing his coat pocket, attempting to fish out his pistol but you beat him to the punch, kicking his hands away. "Not so quick." You whispered.

"Not so quick, indeed." A female voice sounded from behind you, and before you knew it, a chloroform towel was placed over your nose, your gun kicked away as you fell into a deep sleep.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

With a groan, you jolted awake when you remembered the last few memories before you passed out. You hit your head against what you assume to be metal as your vision adjusts itself to the darkness you find yourself in. The only source of light being the one in front of you, illuminating the man you tried to kill tonight, and a woman at his side? An assistant? His lover?

"You're awake." Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard the woman speak; she was the one who knocked you out.

"Who are you?"

"My boss." Valerio said, wiping himself off with a towel, sweat pooling at his forehead as he panted for breath. It seemed he had gotten an antidote on time, but even then, the symptoms of the poison still affected him.

"What do you mean? Aren't you the head?" Your eyes narrowed as cogs began to shift in your head.

"He's a cover." The brunette woman stated without emotion in her voice as she turned away from you, as if she had not just dropped a bombshell of a fact at you, walking out of the room they kept you in. "Have fun with them, Valerio."

Valerio got up from his seat. "Trust me, I will." He smirked.

"Shit." You muttered.

"Don't worry, mi amore, this won't hurt at all."

#yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere male x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere fanfiction #yandere #male yandere #yandere fic

[mellowswriting]

hello!! this is probably for sinful sunday but i’d loveeee to see a john price NSFW alphabet, wanna read your take on the captain!!

john price - nsfw alphabet

a/n || I didn’t post this for sinful sunday because I just knew it would be so damn long 💀 I love Captain Price too much smh I wanna eat this man UP 

Masterlist  |  John Price Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man not only knows how to take care of his woman, but he thrives off it. It makes him feel like a good man, a man deserving of the love you shower him with. Of course, it goes beyond stroking his own ego - you deserve to be cared for and cherished. He’ll be damned if he isn’t going to give you everything and more. 

John is a very tactile man. He loves holding you close and letting his hands roam over your body, targeting any sore spots he may have left on your body. The sound of your breathless laughter as his mustache tickles your soft skin makes his chest feel all warm and bright. If you’re up for it, he loves showering with you afterward. If you give him those puppy dog eyes that he loves, you just might be able to convince him to join you for a bubble bath. All the while, he’s checking in with you. 

“How’s that feel, love?” John asks, his chin on your shoulder as he holds you close in the bathtub. “Is the temperature okay?”

“Perfect.” You sigh. You can feel him smile against your neck. “Just perfect.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

John Price is a man who appreciates a woman in her entirety, but he does have a particular fondness for breasts. All shapes and sizes, he doesn’t have a preference. As long as you’ll let him worship them, he’s a happy man. He loves teasing your nipples until they’re pebbled for him, just so he can 

He also has a whole thing about thick thighs. Absolutely loves ‘em. Goes feral for it. He likes squeezing them and nibbling them til he’s left his mark. 

He isn’t particularly vain, nor is he self-conscious of his body. If you pressed him hard enough on the subject, he would probably say his hands and/or arms. There’s a gorgeous definition in his muscles that he worked hard for, so he’s proud of them. It doesn’t hurt that he sees how much you admire them, how much you like seeing his hands on you (which is what spurred a particularly erotic night in which he positioned a mirror at the end of the bed and made you watch as he took you apart with those hands you love so much). 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

John loves finishing inside of you. He’s the type of man that buries himself to the hilt, so deep that it hurts. Marking you from the inside like that feels so animal, so possessive. Not to mention this man’s breeding kink - dear lord don’t get me started 

That being said, he doesn’t mind coming on your skin. He loves seeing it on your chest (again, he’s a tits man) and your face. He always cleans you up after, all while he murmurs how beautiful you look covered in his cum. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He knows it's completely ludicrous and would never happen realistically - but John loves the idea of fucking you in front of the team. He isn’t oblivious. You’re a beautiful woman and the rest of the men can’t help but notice that. Every time he sees Soap drag you in for a hug that looks a little too friendly, or Gaz’s eyes linger on your ass for a beat too long, or Simon staring at you like he wants to eat you alive - John goes a little out of his mind with possessiveness. The idea of bending you over in front of them, letting them watch but not touch, lights a fire in his veins. 

He wants them all to know. He wants them to see exactly who you belong to. He wants them to know every time they look at you that John Price is the man that makes you come so hard you black out. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

John knows exactly what he’s doing. He was, for lack of a better term, a total fucking slut when he was younger. While he doesn’t go sleeping around anymore, all of that experience he got over the years means he knows just how to break you apart. He’s cocky about it, too. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where you’re face to face. He can see all those pretty expressions on your face and watch your tits bounce, and he’s a happy fucking man. 

Cowgirl makes him go wild. The way your hips roll, your head tipped back as you focus on using him for your own pleasure… he could just about blow his load right then and there. John likes rocking up into you sharply, just to see you gasp and brace yourself on his chest. But for the most part, he’ll just sit back and enjoy the show. 

He likes good old-fashioned missionary. Anyone who says it's boring can go fuck themselves. Feeling your legs tighten around his waist, your nails digging into his shoulders, those desperate whimpers right in his ear - all of it makes him damn near feral. Plus, it’s just too easy to transition into a mating press - once again: breeding kink, anyone???

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s more on the serious side of things. If you bump heads or something like that, he’ll definitely chuckle and move right back on to fucking you like his life depends on it. When he’s a little tipsy and the two of you are fooling around, though? He has this dopey little smile on his face because he really can’t believe how lucky he is. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His pubic hair is thick and wiry, and has the same coloring as his beard. It leads up into a thinner happy trail. John likes keeping himself well-groomed. If he had it his way, everything would always be neatly trimmed. The lack of time and availability of trimmers on longer missions sometimes get in the way of that. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It all depends on the situation. There are times when he’s pure reverence, singing those honeyed praises and looking in your eyes as you fall apart for him. He will murmur how much he loves you, that he’s never letting you go, that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him in this wretched world. 

Then there are the times when you’ve teased and pressed your luck for hours and he bends you over his desk to teach you a lesson. He’s all rough edges and discipline, fiery with the need to put you in your place - and even then, there are little hints of intimacy. It’s in the softness of his eyes when he admires your submissive form, the careful stroke of his fingers along your jaw as he fucks your face. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s a man with a healthy appetite for pleasure - if you aren’t there or not in the mood, he has no problem taking care of himself. There are times he turns to porn but more often than not, he just admires those pictures you’ve sent him or the little videos of the two of you together. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Competence/praise kink - Tell him how good he’s fucking you. Whimper that it's too much, he’s just too good and you swear you’ll die if he makes you come again. It isn’t just a stroke to his ego or his pride. It doesn’t just reaffirm the cockiness he has over how good he is in bed. It makes him feel like a good man, a worthy man. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be sexual to get him going. Every time he does something sweet for you and you give him that honeyed sigh, eyes full of love as you tell him what a good husband he is, arousal stirs in his belly. He can’t help it. He just loves being a good man for you. 

Breeding kink - Doesn’t matter if you’re trying for a baby or not, John is indulging in this every single time he comes inside of you. There’s something so animal, so basic about it. Imagining your belly swelling with his child, your body changing and growing because of the seed he planted inside you - fuck, it gets him every single time. 

Restraints - He likes tying your hands up. Whether he’s tying them to the headboard to edge and/or overstimulate you until you cry or behind your back while he fucks your face, he just loves watching you tug and pull. You look so cute when you’re all desperate for him. 

Edging - There’s just something so sweet about the way you beg him to please, please let you come, you promise you’ll be good, you just need it, you need him - John swears every time you beg, it adds years to his life. Sustains him. But of course, edging leads right into… 

Overstimulation - Making you come over and over until you’re trembling and tears run down your cheeks is one of his favorite pastimes. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

John prefers the bedroom first and foremost. The privacy lets him strip you both down completely naked and really take his time, not having to censor himself or worry about getting caught in a compromising position. The bed is huge and comfortable, and the ease of access means he can fall asleep right there with you and wake you up with more pleasure after a few hours of rest. 

If that isn’t an option - which happens fairly often - his office is his next go-to. He doesn’t mind the lack of privacy too much since you look so ridiculously hot bent over his desk with his hand clamped over your mouth. He’ll shush you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Can’t have the whole team knowing you’re in here takin’ my cock, right love?”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you want to get something out of this man, there’s a very easy formula to follow: get nice and close, press your hand to his chest, and look up at him with those sweet, innocent eyes. Maybe flutter your eyelashes at him, give him that cute little smile. It makes him a horny, thoughtless mess. 

John loves watching you work out or spar. Those soft grunts, your muscles flexing and shifting beneath your skin, the muttered curses - he has to leave the training room before everyone sees how hard he is. Has and will continue to use ‘sparring’ as a form of foreplay. I use quotations because there is no real training involved. It’s just an excuse to get his hands on you and feel your body pressed so completely against his. The playful struggle, the laughter that neither of you can hold back, the wriggling of your body beneath his after you let him pin you - it’s enough to have John dragging you off to somewhere at least semi-private. 

Seeing you in his clothes gets him going in that warm, fuzzy way. He wants to fuck you slow and soft, cradle your face in his hands while he takes you in the bed you share, feel you cry out his name against his lips as he works you through an orgasm. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Breath play is a strict no for John. He sticks by the golden rule of squeezing the sides of the neck, not the front. He’s perfectly fine with restricting blood flow to give you that nice little head high, but anything that involves cutting off your ability to breathe is not happening. 

He doesn’t like anything harsher than playful, praising degradation. Sure, he’ll call you a slut but only if the words ‘pretty’ or ‘my’ are tacked in front of it. See, he doesn’t like genuinely being mean. It makes him feel bad. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

If there’s a throne for the King of Pussy Eating, John Price is sitting atop it. Consider it the byproduct of his slutty days. He can take you from zero to coming all over his face in less than a few minutes. And the best part? He isn’t just good at it - he fucking loves it. He’s gotten off just from burying his face beneath your thighs too many times to count. If he had it his way, he would never stop. Feeling your thighs clench around his head, your fingers pulling at his hair, your hips grinding up to meet his mouth - it’s enough to have him coming on the sheets right then and there. 

John has a tendency to drag you off at the drop of a hat just to make you come on his tongue. There are moments when he can’t help himself - he just needs it like he needs air to breathe. He likes pulling you into closets and pushing you up against the door - which doesn’t lock, by the way - and just dropping to his knees right there. Before you know it, you can’t even think straight. Two seconds ago, you were working away like a diligent soldier and now your captain has your thigh hooked over his shoulder to get impossibly closer to your pussy. No reciprocation needed. All he wanted was to make you come your brains out. :)

Just the sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have his cock straining against the zipper of his pants. Who can blame him? Someone so gorgeous, so eager, kneeling in front of him, stripping away his clothes just enough to get his cock in your mouth - it makes him feel so desired that it makes him lightheaded. Even though he’s usually the one barking commands all day, John follows your lead. If you just want to take over and please him, he’s more than happy to rest his hand on the back of your head and let you go at your own pace. No pushing, just holding you there. Burying his fingers in your hair to rub your scalp lovingly, letting out those soft grunts and broken praise that sends heat flushing across your cheeks. 

In those moments when you need him to be in control, to guide your head with your hair in his fist, he gives it to you - and he gives it good. John takes his time easing his cock down your throat. Each rock of his hips pushes just a little bit deeper until your nose brushes the trimmed hair at the base. The fluttering of your throat around his cock, all hot and wet and perfect, has his voice all rough and rumbly as praise falls from his lips. Even as he fucks your throat, John is gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb or rubbing soothing circles into your hair. He shows you how much he loves you, how much he cherishes the trust you place in his very capable hands. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Whatever the moment calls for, that’s what he’s going with. 

In those initial moments after waking, John draws you back into his embrace from where you’ve drifted off throughout the night. His hands are slow, gentle in their reacquainting with your body after mere hours apart. Every kiss, every touch, every longing look is drawn out, thick and syrupy with sleepiness and love. It’s tender. Reverent. 

When he has you bent over his desk or whisked away into some closet somewhere, there’s no choice but to rush things a bit. BUT! John firmly believes that just because he can’t take his time, doesn’t mean any sensuality has evaporated into thin air. Sure, he may only have ten minutes between meetings to bend you over his desk. That doesn’t mean he isn’t trailing kisses along your shoulder and whispering filthy praise in your ear. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a necessity in his line of work. Captain John Price is an important man, after all. A few moments together squeezed in between important meetings and whatnot are a necessity if he’s going to keep you both satiated and satisfied. Plus, there is a little thrill to it that he can’t deny. It’s fun to sneak around like a couple of horny teenagers. He tries not to go over the top with how often he brings you into his office “for a quick word” wink wink, nudge nudge. Can’t be too obvious, after all. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as it follows the golden rule of safe, sane, and consensual, John is definitely down to try new things. There’s nothing wrong with spicing things up every now and then. He’s the type that likes to talk it through thoroughly enough to understand exactly what you want, limits, and everything in between. It’s important to communicate of course but he definitely has a secret agenda. He likes seeing you get all bashful and shy as you explain what you want him to do to you, how you want him to manipulate your body. You get all squirmy in his lap and he loves it. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

John tends to only go one round - he’s a forty-year-old man, after all - but he lasts so long that one round is all you need. Hell, it's all you can handle. Foreplay is everything in his mind so by the time he’s splitting you open on his cock, he’s made you cum at least once. Usually twice if he has his way and another before he finally finishes inside you. The feeling of your pussy quivering around him always does him in, leaves him a pussy drunk mess. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has one for himself. Nothing special, just a little silicone toy he got himself as a treat. Once you come into his life, though? At least two vibrators are added to his little collection. He isn’t the kind of man that gets insecure over adding toys into the mix - in fact, he thinks they can be a lot of fun. A vibrator is a perfect addition to those edging sessions he loves to inflict upon you. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Every now and then, John gets this wild urge to literally tie you down and tease you for hours. There’s something about being so purely in control that turns him on beyond belief. Every time you squirm and beg and plead, he shushes you and rubs your thighs, tells you to stop interrupting him while he’s eating you to his fill. Don’t worry, he’ll let you come. Eventually. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

John isn’t loud when he fucks, but he never shuts up. His voice is rough, all low and rumbly and delicious as he praises you. He just can’t help himself. After mastering the art of being silent thanks to his years living in barracks and dorms in the military, he’s all too eager to voice his pleasure. Not that you mind, of course. That filthy mouth of his only serves to turn you on more with how well he uses it. Even when his mouth is, uh, otherwise occupied, he’s still groaning into you like he’ll die if he can’t vocalize how crazy you make him. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

John loves cockwarming. He lives for those moments when he has you on your knees, tucked beneath his desk as his cock rests in your mouth. His right hand scribbles away at the paperwork in front of him and his left rests on your head, petting your hair lovingly. So if you have an oral fixation (like I do), then Price is your man. 100%. 

He also has toyed around with the idea of a formal D/s relationship. Nothing too intricate or outlandish, just roles for the two of you to slip into when the moment is right - and the moment is right fairly often. There’s a natural air of dominance about him 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 

Let’s just be frank here: seven inches and thick. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

How often does he want to fuck you? Constantly. He wants you to be a thoroughly fucked out mess any chance he gets. Real life doesn’t exactly allow for that kind of indulgence, though. Instead, John settles for every few days. He really takes his time with you, wants to make it count every time - just to see you melted into a puddle of pleasure and overstimulation. 

That being said, he isn’t a stranger to tugging you into some secluded area and getting a little handsy. Just because there isn’t enough time to fuck you doesn’t mean he can’t get you both off. He can’t count the number of times he’s locked you both in some random supply closet and fallen to his knees to eat you out against the shelves. Or how many times he’s let you jerk him off in the dingy bathroom of some shitty bar. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

John doesn’t like being the first one to fall asleep afterward. Even when he’s exhausted and his eyes ache to close, he has to make sure you’re taken care of first. If you just curl up into his side and fall asleep, he’s happy to wrap an arm around you and follow your lead. When you do need his attention, you get it without fail - even if his voice is all rough and sleepy while he does it.

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader smut #john price smut

[heartbreak-sandwich]

ANIMAL MAGNETISM ~ Part 2 ~ Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader - SFW, slight angst, building tension, Lifeguard Billy x Lifeguard Reader, bossy boss Billy 💖

A/N: This is a continuation of a previous blurb you can find here! This was a request from a lovely follower, but I can't answer the ask on this blog, so I'll have this post linked to the ask on my main. Thank you to all who have enjoyed my work so far! You inspire me to keep writing, and I love you dearly 🥰

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

XXXXX

Clang! The cage to the front entrance of the Hawkins Pool was open, and the line of eager children waiting to take their plunge and cool off started to file in quickly. You had a long shift ahead of you opening and closing, and you knew the first half of your shift would run smoothly with Heather’s help. You hopped up and swung your legs over the front counter, making your way to the clipboards covering the wall in the office to see who you’d be closing with.

“Shit,” you said to yourself, eyes closing in disappointment. Billy Hargrove – of course it was. Your cheeks glowed pink with embarrassment at the thought of the last closing shift the two of you shared.

You had been able to avoid speaking directly to him since then, but you always caught him looking at you with that smug smirk permanently painted just above his sharp jawline, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t take an extra second to breathe in his intoxicating aroma each time you passed him in the staff area – mint, chlorine, and Paco Rabanne pour homme. You knew you would spend the entirety of your shift mentally preparing to defend yourself against whatever hold he seemed to have on you, and you would not let him win this time.

Tossing your whistle around your neck, you made your way out into the blistering sun and took your place atop the chair tower opposite Heather’s to wait out the day and reinforce your mental fortress. You weren’t easy like the other girls Billy had wrapped around his finger, and you were going to make sure he was aware of that.

XXXXX

“Looks like we’re closing up shop tonight, princess.” Billy spoke to you for the first time in almost two weeks, and there it was again – the nickname. It surprised you, but after overthinking all through your shift, you were ready for anything he might try.

“Don’t sound so excited. People might get the wrong idea,” you fired back, keeping your sunglasses on and your nose in today’s paper. Of course he showed up to start his shift just as you were taking your break.

“Or the right idea.” Billy’s voice turned to suede and melted honey, and you felt his tone start a fire in your belly. His eyes stuck to you as he unwrapped a piece of gum and hesitated just before it touched his tongue. You still weren’t looking at him, but you could feel him staring daggers at you. “Hey,” he pestered sharply. The change in mood made you jump in your seat, and you finally looked up at him. “That’s better.” Billy took his gum into his mouth, an obnoxious smacking sound competing with the soft playing of the radio in the staff area.

He closed the gap between the two of you, towering over you where you sat, and you could tell his intimidation tactics were kicking in again. He bent over at the waist, his face just inches away from yours, his fingers coming up to meet with both sides of your sunglasses, and he slowly pulled them off, staring directly into your unprotected eyes.

“You look at me when I’m talking to you.” The gravelly drawl turned your inner fire into an eruption, the heat reaching all the way up your body to your cheeks, and you knew he noticed. He dropped your sunglasses, letting them clatter onto the table in front of you.

Walking away towards the staff entrance to the pool, Billy crinkled up his gum wrapper and threw it behind him, completely missing the garbage can. “Pick it up, princess,” he called over his shoulder, never looking back at where you were still completely frozen in place. You could feel the heat coming off of your face as you, once again, did as you were told, picking up the discarded gum wrapper and throwing it into the trash can.

“What was that?” You were oblivious to Heather’s presence throughout that interaction, and you cracked under the embarrassment of knowing she had witnessed the whole thing.

“N-nothing! Not a single thing at all. God, he’s such an asshole, right?” You stuttered and fidgeted with your sunglasses while you spoke, and it was obvious Heather didn’t believe a word you were trying to say to her.

“If you say so,” she replied with a skeptical smile.

“Whatever. My break’s over; I’ll see you out there.” You folded the paper up, put your sunglasses back on, and squared up your shoulders as you marched back out to your chair tower. You wouldn’t let him get to you like that – not again.

Part 3 ❤️‍🔥

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove angst #oc #billy hargrove oc #sfw billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove blurb #oc request

[crowhyun]

could you write a boxer taehyun smut where he sees the reader dressed all sexy for his match and it riled him up to the point of finishing the match in record time and he takes care of it in the locker room? 👀 maybe some light teasing from tyun and praise from the reader to tyun? 👉👈

7 months later...

omg YES of course I'll do that for you XDDDDD

also, I wasn't sure if this was, like, legal or illegal boxing, so if you were thinking of legal boxing...sorry :o

Boxer!Taehyun x Fem!Reader smut

Warnings: piv smut, no protection used, wall sex, a bit rough bcs who am i if it's not rough

Words: 2.9k

"You ready, Hyun?" Yeonjun asked, opening the locker room door just an inch to hear the raging crowd just outside.

"Ready as ever." Taehyun said, wrapping his fists up in bandages so they don't end up too bloody. This was this third match of the week, and although he was slightly burnt out, he had a feeling this was one he was going to win. Even if the fight wasn't in his favor, he was going to make it so, as there was too much in stake. The money, his popularity...you. After not being able to spend time with you this whole week due to endless training, he wasn't going to humiliate himself in the one boxing match that you were allowed to watch.

He usually forbade you from watching, as he knew you were a worrywart, and you only tolerated his choice of career. But this was going to be his last match for a while, so he thought that maybe you'd be able to handle it, just for the experience.

"That guy's a big one, huh?" Yeonjun chuckled, referring to Taehyun's opponent. "Might have to really lock this one in."

"I'm not worried." Taehyun scoffed. "A large physique doesn't necessarily mean that one can fight. Besides, I have my pride this time. I'm not going to lose."

"Ah...I know what it is." Yeonjun said with a smirk. "It's because your girlfriend is in the audience this time, isn't it?"

Taehyun cleared his throat awkwardly, busying himself with his bandages.

"Knowing how you get around her...should I be worried for your opponent?" Yeonjun chuckled, and Taehyun just rolled his eyes. "I'm joking, I'm joking. Just do your best, okay? Let's get out there."

The arena was heated, a dense crowd surrounding the rink. With Yeonjun leading the way, they cut through the crowd, Taehyun's face stone cold at the ones who tried to touch him on his way through.

Taehyun wasn't dumb, he knew he was handsome. Givin his looks and his career, there were people fawning over him at all times. It also got him some extra disrespect from his opponents. Taehyun found it funny, though, that the "pretty boy" could so easily bring down each and every one of them.

Taehyun noticed that his opponent was already in the rink, and once he stepped in, his opponent noticed him. He was quite big, just like Yeonjun said. Taehyun wouldn't lie, he's human like everyone else, but this guy was intimidating to the eye. If he didn't know any better, Taehyun would've been scared, but there's no time for fear in the rink.

His opponent looked Taehyun up and down, chuckling at him, underestimating him as per usual. Taehyun, though, he didn't care. He didn't even notice, because he was too busy scanning the crowd to look for a specific person. You. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes darting from place to place before he finally saw your familiar face. It was as if there was a spotlight on you, separating you from everyone else. Due to how aggressive the crowd could be sometimes, he worried for you, but suddenly, his mind went blank. As someone in front of you moved to the side to talk to someone else, he had the chance to see you in your entirety. There you were, clad in a black tank top and a mini skirt. Taehyun could see your cleavage from the rink, and he took a deep breath. It was the summertime, so he couldn't blame you for wearing such skimpy clothes, but he also couldn't blame himself for what it was doing to him. The thin sheen of sweat covered you, making you almost shine, and there was nothing more that he wanted to do than to take you right there.

Not only that, but you were looking at him with a large smile on your face, doing small jumps that made your breasts jiggle each time. He tried not to show his lust, but damn, it was hard.

"Nervous, aren't you?" His opponent asked, a condescending smile on his face. Taehyun snapped him attention away from you at the sound of his voice. If he thinks extreme lust looks like nervousness, then that's not Taehyun's problem. "Don't worry too much. This will be quick."

"I'm not here to chit-chat." Taehyun said nonchalantly, turning to Yeonjun, who was at the outer corner of the rink. Yeonjun already knew what he needed, giving him his water. It was so hot, but the coolness for the water chilled him out.

"Match starts in 1 minute. Good luck." Yeonjun said, and Taehyun nodded, facing his opponent once more. Cracking his neck, he was slightly annoyed. He hadn't been able to see you in a week, so of course he was a little pent up. He didn't think it was that bad, but the sight of you made him realize exactly how pent up he was. If only he didn't have to fight, he would've...

He shook his head. He couldn't think about that now, of all times. The clock was ticking, and the fight was about to start. Seeing you gave him a bit of a rush, and he didn't' care what he'd have to do to end this match as quickly as possible.

Finally, the bell ringed three times, and it was time to start. All he was thinking of was you, and at this moment, his opponent was nothing more than a cock block that he wanted to get rid of as soon as possible to get to you.

The fight had barely started, yet Taehyun was getting annoyed with walking around in circles with his opponent, waiting for who would throw the first punch. Just to get things going, Taehyun got closer, giving him the impression that he was going to hit first. Throughout his training, he knew that it was always best for the opponent to deliver the first punch so that you can dodge and be able to easily figure out their next move.

Just like he had expected, his opponent fell for his bluff, throwing the first punch aimed at Taehyun's abdomen. He swiftly dodged it, and it was as if he calculated his opponent's fighting style. His hefty muscle weight kept him from moving quickly, making his moves predictable. He did have the power, but no technique. This was going to be an easy match.

Slightly stunning him from his dodge, Taehyun dove in, delivering a punch right below his ribcage. His opponent then thought it was a good idea to keep trying to aim for Taehyun's face. Taehyun could laugh at how dumb he was. Dodging each punch, he kept aiming at his abdomen. It wasn't the best way to quickly get a match over with, but there was no other way, really, so Taehyun tried his best to stay as untouched as possible while chipping at his opponent's stamina bit by bit.

The two first rounds of the match were over, and there was one more round to go. Taehyun has suffered a few punches here and there, and he knew the bruises weren't going to be pretty. It wasn't enough to debilitate him, though, as his opponent was in an even worse shape than him.

"One more round, you got this." Yeonjun said, a firm hand on his shoulder as if he was shaking determination and strength into him.

Taehyun huffed, a scowl on his face, wanting it to be over already. Why was his opponent so...durable?

"Just remember, Hyun," Yeonjun started. "The faster you can take him down, the faster you can get to your lady. Don't embarrass yourself."

"I got it." Taehyun said, shrugging Yeonjun's hands off his shoulders. Looking into the audience to where you where, he could tell there was a bit of worry crossing your face. He wanted to be there right next to you to reassure you, but the only way he could reassure you now was to win this match.

At the sound of the bell, he dove back in, not wanting to waste any time. He knew his opponent's moves by now, so he didn't care who was going to throw the first punch. All he knew, though, was that he had something more important to do afterwards.

His opponent stood, dazed out of his mind, as Taehyun delivered what would be the last punch of the match. His fists ached as blood seeped into his bandaged, but it wasn't his blood.

With his coach trying to hold him up, his opponent fell to the ground, and the bell ringed thrice. The crowd roared as the match finally ended, and Taehyun had won.

"Fuck yeah, Hyun, that's what I'm talking about!" Yeonjun said, shaking Taehyun's shoulders as he stepped out of the rink. "$5,000 can you believe that? I knew you were going to win, that big doofus was a joke." Yeonjun laughed loudly, more excited about the money than Taehyun was, but Taehyun didn't care. His mind was on one thing and one thing only.

"Yeah, yeah, you, uh, you get the money for me, I need to do something real quick." Taehyun said, and he disappeared into the crowd, leaving a confused Yeonjun behind. Taehyun made a beeline for where he remembered you were, even pushing people out of the way to get to you.

Once he saw you, he noticed that you were looking around for him, and he couldn't help but smile.

Standing on your tiptoes to look around, you turned to his direction and noticed that he was right there, looking at you. A huge smile grew on your face, and you ran to hug him tight.

"Taehyun!" You exclaimed. "I was so worried, but you did so well." You separated from him, scanning his body to examine his cuts and bruises. "Are you okay? You're not too hurt, right?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine, baby." He said, giving you a kiss on the lips and lingering for a bit. "Of course I'd do well. You're here. But it wasn't too bad, right?"

"Well...you're right, but I don't like to see you hurt." You said, hands lightly running down his bare, sweaty chest, making him gulp.

"I like your outfit, by the way." He said. "Though, you should be careful wearing things like that around all these men."

"Careful? Why?" You said coyly. "I'm burning in here, if I were to wear something else, I would've passed out." You joked.

"What do you mean 'why'?" Taehyun chuckled. "You nearly made me drop the match when I looked at you."

"Oh? Am I showing too much skin?" You asked innocently, but Taehyun knew you, and you knew that you were a little tease. He shamelessly looked down at your breasts, which were now pressed up against his chest. He couldn't waste more time still being in the crowd. He had to get you alone, and quick.

"Let me get you out of here." He said, still distracted by your breasts. You knew exactly what was going to happen, and you were in no way against it, because you wanted exactly what he wanted, and maybe even more.

Taehyun wasted no time. After pushing you into the locker room and shutting the door behind him, he attached his lips to yours, effectively stunning you. Thankfully, there was no one else in the locker room, so he had you all alone, and he was going to make great use of this time.

Backing you into the nearest wall, his hands roamed your body as his tongue made its way into contact with your own. He grabbed handfuls of your bare thighs, slowly going up until his hands slid under your skirt and then he froze.

Parting from this kiss, he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, feeling you up just a bit more.

"No panties?" He said, and you just smiled. "You were planning this all along, weren't you?"

"Maybe." You said.

"Better be glad no one else saw." He said, attaching his lips to your neck. "Else there would be more than one match today."

You bit your lip, feeling your arousal dripping down your inner thighs. You had been dripping all night, especially when seeing him fight. It was a good thing that you were already sweating, else there would be some questionable looks from others.

With your skirt already lifted up, Taehyun switched his attention to underneath your flimsy tank top, wasting no time to reveal your breasts to him. Your breasts slightly bounced when he lifted your shirt up and he groaned, taking a nipple into his mouth and flicking his tongue back and forth over it.

Your head fell back onto the wall behind you, breathy whines emitting from your throat. Groaning once more, Taehyun hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you up in a show of strength. You wrapped your legs around his hips, and you felt his hard bulge right against your bare pussy. It rubbed against your clit, and you bit your lip trying to suppress the desperate moan bubbling up in your throat.

"T-Taehyun, fuck me," You moaned out, feeling pent up enough as it was.

"Fuck, babe," He moaned out, chest heaving. Any other time, he's tease you for being so desperate, but it has been too long since he had you in this position, and he couldn't wait to be deep inside of you. He reached down to tug his underwear and shorts down, effectively freeing his cock from its confines. He grabbed the bottom on your thighs, spreading you further apart as you clenched around nothing.

Without warning, he pushed into you in one quick motion, his hips flush with yours. You couldn't help the moan from escaping you as how full you felt. Clenching around him, he started to move. It was slow at first as he savored this feeling. Your arousal dripped down his cock, making its way down his thighs. He couldn't believe how wet you were, and you guys barely started.

"Taehyun, faster, please-" You moaned out, grasping his shoulders quietly. He didn't have to be told twice. He held you still against the way and began thrust into you with much more fervor. The sounds of skin meeting and moans got more erratic as he fucked you harder.

He looked down between the both of you, watching as his cock stretched your hole, taking each and every inch of him. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, and he watched the sweat drip down your skin. It was like a dream, hearing you cry out, unable to conceal your moans.

It only made him thrust harder until he was pounding into you, groans nearly turning into growls.

"F-fuck, Hyun, I'm gonna c-cum," You stuttered in staccato breaths, trying to speak through each mind numbing thrust he gave you. You dug your nails into his shoulders, his name rolling of your tongue senselessly.

"Cum for me, baby," He said in a sultry tone, eyes piercing into yours as he watched every one of your facial expressions. Shifting only a bit so that his angle was different, he noticed how much louder you suddenly became.

"Oh, fuck! Right there, Hyun, don't stop!" Your head fell back against the wall, jaw dropped in pleasure. It didn't take much longer for you to cum, creaming all over his thick cock, making a mess out of him. Your pussy was clenching onto him for dear life and he shut his eyes tight, biting onto your shoulder as he continued to pound into you. You whined in overstimulation, but Taehyun couldn't stop as he chased his high.

"J-just a second, babe, I'm almost there." He breathed out, his thrusts becoming erratic. Your legs started to shake, and you could no longer contain even a bit of your moans. Taehyun had you trapped. Your only choice was to just take what he was giving you, and he was driving you crazy.

To drive him closer to his high, you clenched around him, his moans becoming louder. "Yes, keep going," You whined into his ear. "You feel so f-fucking good, keep fucking my pussy just like that, and I'm gonna c-cum again," You could barely speak because of the power behind his thrusts, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Hyun, are you in here?" You heard a voice behind the locker room door, and your eyes widened in panic once it flew open. "Hyun, you-"

"Get out!" Taehyun said, not stopping for even a second. Your eyes were lidded in pleasure, face a daze as you made eye contact with a frozen Yeonjun.

It took him a bit to realize exactly what he had walked into before he quickly left and shut the door. Just seconds after that, you came again, clenching around him until he just couldn't take it anymore. He kept fucking into you while he came, making a mess of his cum. He then quickly pulled out of you once it got too overwhelming, some of his cum leaking onto the floor.

There was about a minute of silence before he gently put you back down on the floor. You held onto him tightly, feeling weak in the knees, and he chuckled.

"Are you alright?" He asked, flipping your clothes back down to cover you.

You nodded, throat sore from nearly frying your vocal chords. "Just a little embarrassed from Yeonjun walking in."

"Embarrassed?" He scoffed. "Don't lie. I know you liked it, didn't you? You like being watched?" He teased, and you avoided eye contact, making him laugh. "Let's get you home. And maybe we could invite Yeonjun to test out my little theory."

"Taehyun!"

------------------------------------------

AN: Hey yall uh...i hope yall like this hehe, btw anon, if you don't like what happened at the end, I'M SORRY I CANT HELP IT I JUST WANT THEM ALL TO RUN A TRAIN ON ME IT GETS HARD SOMETIMES UGH

also i wanted this to be like 1k words idk why i did all that fr

#txt smut #taehyun smut #taehyun x reader #yeonjun smut #beomgyu smut #huening kai smut #soobin smut #txt x reader #kpop smut

[deadboyfriendd]

12 September, 1894

I killed a man today,  

I did not hold him at gunpoint nor did a knife by my hands enter his body, but I felt his final breath dissipate from the earth like the mirage radiating from the sand just the same. The same hands that relies on this pen to write to something as sweet as you bears the sword that pulls the breath from living lungs. 

I want to help people. I want to keep this town safe, but I do not want to kill. Not anymore. 

I fear there is too much loss in this place. I see it in Nellie’s eyes when she bows her head and prays to a God she does not fully believe in. I heard it in between the cracks of Michael’s voice. There is a nothingness here and I fear it more than death itself. There is no God and we are his prophets. 

This morning I stood in the gray light and for a moment saw the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with to sorrow it. 

Is anything ever truly stolen if we are never guaranteed ownership in the first place? Is life really able to be taken if it is not ours in the beginning? Or then, are we simply set free?

So tell me, then, if all time is borrowed and all world and all earthly things are simply rented: then, I might ask, may I borrow some of you? May I hold you between my hands and relish in the time like it is mine? Might you be able to do the same with me? 

Might your borrowed lips meet against my borrowed flesh? And may my borrowed sorrow be lifted from by body back into the reserve of the world? Might you be the one to pull it from me? 

Might we be gods, or, at least, spend this borrowed existence pretending that we are? In that case, my love, might we pull love from the reserve and quench our sullen, borrowed hearts of the feelings for which they thirst? 

In that case, darling, I offer myself to you in my entirety, 

Steve Harrington.

#whispers this is a huge spoiler for Cochise IV #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #cowboy!steve harrington #stranger things x reader #steve stranger things

[mew-ya]

katakuri headcanons 🍩 - update (1/9)

- assessing his mother and brothers, where do his teeth come from? my thought is that his father is half fishman, as it's previously been stated that quarter fishmen do not have the ability to breathe underwater or really get much special strength--but I think an unusual mouth could be feasible. perhaps he's quarter pelican eel fishman?! that could explain why his brothers look (relatively) normal, it's just a recessive gene that falls out with the stronger human/whatever Big Mom genes are.

- his massive "house" granted to him by his mother is immaculate, spotless, spartan. this is because he doesn't live in it. he has a true living quarters hidden somewhere on komugi island that holds his some of his less grave secrets (such as his silly little hobbies and his preference of milk alternative). he's a private person so no one really goes there. only brulee knows about it, and maybe a few of his other closest siblings.

- he is 48, so he'd be pretty out of touch with the things his young siblings like. he's a humble guy so I think he'd take their "omg youre OLD" bullying in stride, and they'd love him for it. very popular with the kids AND their parents, future sight is the ultimate babysitter ability. he can stop a toddler with a safe alternative before they even think about climbing up a curtain.

- torn on wanting kids himself. he loves them, maybe he wanted them when he was younger. but his family has a lot already and he's a busy man. will he be able to care for them like he wants? how can he shield them from his mother and what she put him through? what if they are born with his face? will his child be able to live their own life without living in his shadow? it's complicated for him, and he thinks very deeply about it.

- it's pretty hard for him to keep secrets from brulee in general. they have a bit of an unhealthy relationship in that regard...they're both very protective of each other, which can make it difficult to get close to them. kata scares off anyone who looks at brulee the wrong way, shooting them a glare or worse if they dont catch the hint. brulee secretly watches anyone from her mirrors who appears to be paying too much attention to katakuri and confronts them if she suspects they're up to no good. she's a sweet woman deep down, but has learned to be a convincing witch.

- katakuri is a sucker for foods that have sweetness, and it's warped his taste buds a bit. whenever people try his occasional cooking, they're a bit taken back by the presence of sugar on everything. he watches for reactions patiently and most are too afraid to offend him, so they pretend it's good. he's a humble guy, so the typically universal praise doesn't go to his head. his brothers might have a stupid nickname for him like "sweetsteak" but he thinks they're joking.

- as for the types of foods he likes to eat besides donuts: I think he'd like bagels of the sweet variety, such as blueberry or cinnamon raisin. though not everything needs to be donut shaped. I think he'd enjoy pineapple on pizza a lot, monte cristo sandwiches, and fruity, tropical cocktails on the rare occasion he drinks. he'd also like curries that balance sweet and spicy well. doesnt really eat all that much meat but he does enjoy it baked into pastries. also see him as someone who puts an embarrassing amount of sugar cubes in his tea. like my dude. you want tea with those sugar cubes? he just keeps going. he literally does not care what you think of his food preference so no one really comments on it anymore.

- Mr power nap himself. he probably sleeps like shit cus he has to keep up appearances as Mr. Perfection, never lying on his back. but I like to think he gets a rare occasion to sleep a full night on his back and he makes a little ritual out of it. covering the windows, making sure no one can disturb or find him, pulls out his favorite book and reads it in its entirety before hes able to fall asleep the normal way...maybe putting brulee on guard duty. but don't ask me if he wears the matching jammies and hat set. I can't clown on him that hard today

- wears gloves cus he's a serial nail picker. originally thought he would be a nail biter but like...his teeth seem a bit extreme for that? i can't imagine him really putting his fingertips at risk like that, so I think he'd be the type to pick at his nails when nervous. the gloves help with that quite a bit, and have an added bonus of protecting his palms from his heavy work schedule. his hands are pretty soft.

- smells kinda like mochi residue, which is to say he smells like rice flour. he also smells like leather and steel, and perhaps a waft of vanilla or strawberry depending on the pastry crumbs he accidentally dropped in his scarf that day. it's a very floofy scarf and he doesn't really take it off so sometimes he gets a bit of food in it. has to wash it daily, probably has a bunch of backup scarves.

thanks for reading 🫡💓 and double thanks to all of the people who've rambled on and on with me and helped contribute to my headcanons about him, or have posted some of their own that I came across and agreed with! I love this character very very much so i always have a lot of fun thinking about little things like this.

- he has acquired a lot of stupid donut decor over the years, thanks to his closer siblings that know his love of donuts. his secret little house is absolutely littered in it. he doesnt really buy this stuff himself, his taste is a bit more punk rock. one year he did get a pretty cool donut-patterened Tiffany lamp that he has by his couch. but most of the time, an easy Christmas gift for kata: donut socks. Peros gets him a different color every year. he's not really that into it, but he appreciates the thought...

new below added 1-9 (about his height, about traveling)

- he is a very tall person, though not giant sized. thankfully, the one piece world is rather kind to folk big and small. it's not any trouble to find the correct size of most items, especially in tottoland. you'll find a variety of specialty stores catering to folks of small and large sizes, and some areas even have districts concentrated around small and big folk with appropriately portioned cuisines. clothes come in a wide variety of sizes even at the smallest of boutiques. although the clothes of many of the charlotte siblings have a certain flair that scream custom made, kata being no exception...

- his size becomes more difficult when he's traveling abroad, and tends to stick to the ships quarters as a place to rest when outside of his home. he's not one to rent out a place, as it is troubling to find accommodations that suit his many needs (including absolute privacy). he would probably rely on his own mochi abilities to generate shelter before ever agreeing to stay in a stranger's abode. he feels moderately comfortable in his personal ships quarters but his typical form of comfort is most often found on the deck, leaning against the mast with a watchful eye on the horizon.

- his duties as minister and commander, as well as his travels as a child with the Rocks Pirates, have brought him to many places. given that his mochi merienda shrine has wano-style architecture, it is not utterly out of left field to think that he has even visited a secluded place such as Wano in the past. while his job and family is rather isolating, he has still experienced a good number of unfamiliar cultures and cuisines. I think that he has traveled less in the latter half of his life but still holds onto some of those memories and would like to go back to the places he went when he was younger.

I'll probably continually update this with new HCs when I get bored 💕

naturally, please take these all with a grain of salt! it's fine to disagree, these are just how I personally see him.

#charlotte katakuri #one piece #one piece headcanons #mew writes #SFW

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Hi! Hope you are having a lovely day! Just one question

I was thinking of purchasing a copy of the Good Omens book from an online shop that is as popular as Amazon in the country I live in (I don’t have Amazon and since it’s quite a reliable shop from what I’ve seen, I’m having doubts about my own local online shop :’D)

So just some things I need to clarify before I make the purchase (hope you don’t mind and I don’t intend for this to be a bother to you!):

-If you do have a physical copy of the GO book, do you mind taking a few pics of it so I can see how thick it is? The online shop I’ve found doesn’t really provide clear pictures so I fear that it will be a scam

-Is it a single book? Or do I have to buy a volume of books to read the entirety of GO?

I think that’s all for now, this was in a rush and I might not be able to remember all the questions I wanted to ask currently :’D

If it’s alright, may I send another ask if I do end up remembering them?

Thank you!!

Hiya! :) Good Omens (the whole name of the book Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch) is just one book. It was written in 1989 by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman and published in 1990, over the years it got several different covers and there is also Illustrated Good Omens with Paul Kidby's wonderful illustrations :). The number of pages in this paperback edition is about 400. If you have another question I'll be happy to help :) ❤. Very much enjoy the book, it is brilliant! :)

#ask #good omens book

[aylish91]

A Gaurdian of the Deep

What’s this? A terrible no good month has finally allowed me a bit of inspiration for a written piece? 

This was heavily inspired by @skumhuu ‘s Leviathantale. Want a little Reader X Giant Leviathan? It’s not much but here ya go. haha.

Now multi chapter story on ao3 here.

Y/N. No matter what anyone might tell you, I want you to remember something for me. Always give thanks to the sharks. They are the servants of the guardians and these are their waters. Ask and give thanks for safe passage and make sure that whenever you take, you give back. 

I want you to remember… If you can remember, then maybe one day, even after I am gone… something might be given back in return… 

~ ~ ~ 

You knew better than to brave the waters while the storms raged. Your boat was too small to counter the combination of waves and wind. You also didn’t have enough light without the full moon guiding your way, the lantern and boat’s lights hardly bright enough to shine a few feet ahead. But you knew the way and had forced yourself to make the trip anyway. 

One last offering to the guardians before you were driven from your home island to the mainland. You owed it to your grandmother and yourself to give one last time. 

You almost didn’t make it. 

You certainly wouldn’t be making it back. 

Though you had gotten to your favored rocky platform, the chaotic waves had inevitably slammed your tiny boat into them, effectively throwing you out and sinking the vessel. Your body had been next. For a few terrifying minutes, you were thrashed against the rocks until you were able to somehow pull yourself onto one of the rocky ledges to escape. You don’t know how you managed to keep a grip on the strap to your cooler... 

It was dark, you were covered in cuts and bruises, and your leg had definitely been broken at some point during the ordeal. You were alive, but for how long, you were not sure. 

It was raining and uncharacteristically cold... 

It was while lying there, offering displayed dutifully in front of you, that you saw it. Or rather, him. 

He was just as your grandmother had said. An enormously large being from the depths of the ocean. One of the guardians of your island, body a writhing mass of tentacles with the upper half of a skeleton. The entirety of him was as black as pitch with an occasional sheen of bioluminescence that matched the orb of a light inside his uncovered socket. 

He was absolutely magnificent...

With a voice as deep and dark as the ocean, he spoke to you, asking all manner of questions from why you had continued to give offerings despite his absence, why you came today, and many more seemingly meaningless things. Naturally, you obliged him, speaking with the guardian as if he were an old friend. 

You told him of your island home, who your grandmother was, and how much you owed the being for everything he’d done for your island and your family. You spoke of the company that had taken over and was forcing everyone away, and of how this was meant to be your last offering. You also spoke of all the things the both of you loved. All this and more, well into the night. 

The longer you spoke, the closer his massive form came. Other flashes of light could be seen in the water beyond him, but you had paid them little mind. It wasn’t until your body had stopped shivering and an overwhelming heat overtook you, that you knew your time was coming to an end. 

It was getting harder to focus... 

“Your life is waning...” 

You hummed, finding you had to force your eyes open again. “I suppose it is... Do you think, if I had been more like my grandmother, that we could have met before? Talked together, just like this… You are, beyond my words.” 

A tentacle slowly wrapped around you, pulling you from the ledge. It felt nice against the sudden heat. You couldn’t help but caress the smooth appendage. They were so soft, yet undeniably strong... Another wrapped around your wrist when you were pulled closer to the guardian’s body and everything shifted.

“What is it that you wish, little fish? What would you have me do?” 

You did your best to look up into that beautifully bright orb of his, smiling as your body naturally relaxed. Your words were barely above a whisper. 

“Being able to see you has been enough. I should be offering what’s left of myself to you... So, please. Take it. My soul is yours...” 

Your breath was rugged and your sight was leaving, but you could feel the way your body was gently squeezed, his breath rushed over you. Something brushed against your ear as another breath prickled your neck while you were transferred to what you assumed were his hands…

“You shouldn't offer such a gift so freely little fish. Though you are innocent and kind, I am selfish and greedy. I cannot help but find you too enticing not to accept...” His voice was a rumbling purr.

You were too far gone to reply, limply laying within his hold. As you felt the both of you sink, another voice spoke from the darkness, warm and bright. 

“Brother, shall I—”  

“No. I have decided. I will do it myself.” 

There was a soft chuckle. “Of course, Nightmare.” 

You never felt the water wash over you.

Leviathan Master List         Grand Master Post

#My writing #leviathantale #Leviathan AU #undertale #undertale au #nightmare #nightmare x reader #dream #nightmare sans #sans #x reader #reader insert #guardians of the deep

[formerlyz]

So I watched the entirety of buddy daddies yesterday and I’m not well so this is how I’m coping anyway have a little fanfic.

No More Bathtubs

Synopsis: Rei has a nightmare and goes to Kazuki’s room for comfort.

Word count: 617

Warnings: Referenced gunshot wounds, minor spoilers

Kazuki awoke to the sound of three quiet knocks on his bedroom door and the creaking of the hinges moving.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, still half asleep. There was a pause.

“Yeah…” Kazuki’s eyes snapped open at the deep voice he wasn’t expecting. He looked up to see his partner standing in the doorframe.

“Oh hey… thought you were Miri” Kazuki said, sitting up. He winced as the movement irritated his wounds from the previous week.

“She’s still asleep, I just checked on her.” Rei said, moving to sit on the edge of Kazuki’s bed. Kazuki reached over to turn on the lamp on his nightstand. In the soft yellow glow he could see that Rei’s eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark circles.

“What’s up? You ok?” Kazuki ventured. Rei didn’t respond, and instead just laid down on his side next to Kazuki. “What, the bathtub not comfy enough for you tonight?” Kazuki joked. Rei shook his head, staring blankly ahead of him at Kazuki’s pillow.

“I don’t want to sleep alone” He finally mumbled, so quiet that Kazuki almost didn’t hear him.

“Want me to bring Miri in here and we can all sleep together?” Kazuki offered, knowing that Rei wouldn’t be able to pick her up with his wounded arm and that she was damn near impossible to wake up. Rei shook his head again.

“No…can I just…is it okay if I…” Rei stopped. Kazuki’s eyes widened as he saw his partner’s shoulders start to tremble. He knew that growing up, Rei was never allowed to cry or show any sign of weakness, so Kazuki was shocked to say the least. After a moment, Kazuki smiled softly, pulled his comforter up to cover Rei, and turned his lamp back off.

“Alright. It’s cold tonight anyway.” Kazuki said as he laid back down. Rei gave a small nod, silent tears still streaming down his cheeks.

Kazuki pulled Rei into his chest, careful to avoid the bullet wound in Rei’s arm. Rei paused for a moment before relaxing into Kazuki’s chest, no longer trying to hide his sobs. They stayed like that for a while, Kazuki letting Rei cry as long as he needed too.

Eventually, Rei’s breathing slowed and the tears stopped coming. Kazuki thought he might have fallen asleep until he spoke.

“I dreamt that I didn’t make it in time. That Ogino…” Rei whispered. He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Kazuki gently put both his hands on Rei’s face and pulled back so he could look into his partner's steel gray eyes.

“But you did. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” Kazuki said softly, wiping a tear away with his thumb. Rei bit his lip and nodded.

“Okay.” He said, leaning forward to bury his face in the crook of Kazuki’s neck. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the warmth of Kazuki’s skin against his own.

“This is nice…” Rei said without really thinking. Kazuki chuckled, shifting to lay on his back.

“It is. You’re like a human radiator.” He said as he got in a more comfortable position. Rei followed, curling up at his side and resting his head on Kazuki’s chest. Kazuki’s arm stayed around Rei shoulder as Rei gingerly stretched his wounded arm over Kazuki’s chest.

“Can…we do this again tomorrow night?” Rei ventured.

“Sure.” Kazuki said, his eyelids getting heavy. “No more bathtubs.” he mumbled as he drifted back off to sleep, a content smile on his face.

“No more bathtubs.” Rei repeated to himself, feeling warm inside at the thought.

For the first time in his life, Rei truly felt safe as he fell asleep to the sound of Kazuki’s heartbeat.

#these two #fucking kill me #buddy daddies #kazurei #buddy daddies fanfic #kazurei buddy daddies #more of these to come probably cause idk how to cope #z tries to write #my stuff

[syllvane]

i could never give you peace- steve harrington x reader

a/n: takes place during the two day time skip in the last episode. spoilers for stranger things s4 vol. 1 and 2.

It’s 2am when you wake up to a loud banging on your door. It doesn’t take long for you to answer- you hadn’t been sleeping well, not after the earthquake rocked the entirety of Hawkins.

You open the door quickly and are met with none other than your boyfriend, Steve Harrington.

To put it lightly, he looks like shit.

He looks like he had gotten his entire outfit from the army surplus store, had then been shipped off to war, and lost.

“Steve...” You manage, hating how terrified you sound- no, feel.

You half-expected for a tired smile to appear on his lips, for him to quip about ‘how you should see the other guy.’

That moment doesn’t come and instead, he starts crying.

You hug him immediately, careful not to put pressure on any of his visible injuries. He still winces, but pulls you closer anyways.

“I couldn’t protect them.” He says, his voice hoarse, tears wetting your shoulder.

You don’t ask what he means by this, you just hug him tighter, as if you’ll be able to protect him.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You said softly, taking a step back and leading him into your apartment. 

You close the door after he staggers his way inside before helping him take off his clothes so that you can see the full extent of his injuries. 

His torso was covered with what appeared to be small bite marks that hadn’t fully healed yet. The bruises that covered his body were much fresher.

His ankles and wrists were badly bruised, but no part of his body was as bruised as his neck, which was turning a disconcerting shade of purple.

“You know, most girls take me out to dinner before oogling me.” He said weakly and you looked at his eyes, your lips twitching upwards for a second. 

(God, it is so good to hear him joke, even if every word he said is solely for your benefit.)

“I’m going to get the first aid kit. Lay down on the couch, okay?”

“So bossy...” He mumbled. You shot him a look and he held his hands in the air defensively. “Just joking! I’m laying down.”

He winced as he sat down on the couch before swinging his legs onto the cushions, doing his best to avoid putting pressure onto the obviously injured parts.

In your bathroom, you found the first aid kit and some ibuprofen, bringing both to the couch and setting them on the coffee table in front of it.

“Take two of these, I’m going to get an icepack, okay?”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” You said, your eyes meeting his. “I’ll be right back.”

You walk to your kitchen and open the freezer, rummaging through the frozen vegetables and the frozen meals.

You don’t find an icepack, but the frozen peas you have will be a fine substitute. 

“Put this behind your neck, it should help with the bruising,” You told him as you perched yourself on the coffee table. “I’m going to clean the scars, it might sting a little bit.”

He inhaled sharply as you pressed the disinfectant wipe to the marks on his torso, but didn’t protest.

“Steve... what happened?”

He went silent.

“You’re not going to believe me.”

“Let me decide that for myself.”

His eyes met yours. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, he finds it, and he starts to talk.

You listened wordlessly as he recounted the last three years of his life, telling you about mirror worlds and monsters and superheroes.

About the Demogorgon, about Eleven, about the Upside Down.

About the Mind Flayer, about Will and Billy, about Starcourt Mall.

About Vecna. About Max. About Eddie. 

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him- just the fact that you’re holding him and that he is here feels like a miracle. 

You don’t realize you’re sobbing until Steve starts drawing shapes on your back, bringing you back down to Earth.

Back down to him.

“It’s not your fault, Steve.”

It’s the first thing you say after he finishes speaking, the only thing that you can think of that feels important enough to say.

“I promised them...” He starts, his voice breaking.

“You almost died, Steve. What more could you have done? This isn’t your fault, none of this is your fault.”

He doesn’t say anything to this, just cries.

The position you’re hugging him in is uncomfortable and your shirt is getting wet from his tears and you don’t pull away.

You’ll take whatever moments you have with him.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines

[phantomskeep]

Editing to add (again): This is using the bastardized wendigo from popculture. It's not using the wendigo in the context of the spirit, more in the context of the Hannibal "Ravenstag" or even Antlers' wendigo. Check the Anon link near the end of the post for more information regarding my thoughts on the subject :) I didn't mention the deer-like qualities until the tags, which I understand some people don't fully read. That's my bad, so here I am with the full context ahead of time. This is not the Algonquian version of the wendigo spirit. i really want to write a DCxDP fic where Danny gets trapped in a different form (like either true form or just gets cursed, something like that) and can't get out of it. That form? A wendigo. Somehow he ends up in the DC universe - either through already living there or Ghost Zone shenanigans.

Being a wendigo, Danny feels the need to eat flesh. Preferably human, but even in his screwed-up state he knows that's wrong of him to do. So he takes to killing the bare minimum amount of wildlife he can to sustain himself. Eventually he realizes that "oh wait, what if I just raided a store?" So he stumbles out of the woods and into the nearest grocery store after they had closed. He ends up eating enough to settle his stomach before going off to hide to wait for this whatever to wear off.

However, this catches the attention of [insert local hero]. [Insert local hero] goes to the Justice League about this - maybe this creature is a new villain's scheme? Or just a new villain? Members of the JL + Justice League Dark then go out to [insert town Danny was spotted in] to do some investigating. Batman being one of these people, plus Robin because Damian would not let Bruce go without him. A wendigo could be like a shark after all, just a big ol' puppy.

They get to [insert town here] and start cracking down. They compare the old footage to the location, tracking where the wendigo went. Finally Batman, Robin and [insert characters here] are able to get to the wendigo's den... only to find out the wendigo is a lot more ghost-like than they thought it would be.

There's a big fight because Wendigo-Brain!Danny thought these random dudes were the GIW coming for his undead ass that ends with Danny taking off. Unknowingly to Danny, Damian has grabbed onto him and is basically riding his soon-to-be pet into the sunset.

... I just want to 1) see Danny suffer and being confused 2) Damian trying to get a new dangerous pet and 3) get Damian trying to tame a feral Wendigo!Danny like any normal person would try to befriend that feral orange cat living in the dumpster.

Adding this just to cover my own butt about this haha, here's a link that contains a post which covers the research I have done on the topic of the wendigo: Anon Ask Post Here. I am not trying to culturally appropriate, offend, or harm anyone with a prompt post about Danny taking the form of a wendigo. It's a cool concept to me as I believe it is a bit ironic. The wendigo, as seen in the culture it originates from, is a symbol of greed and a harsh winter and are often a sign of cannibalism. They have hearts of ice and an "unseasonable chill might precede its approach".

I think this is ironic because 1 - Danny is a sweet little bean and being stuck with cannibalistic cravings is a Hannibal Fic trope that will forever rot in my brain + Ghost King!Danny having to eat Pariah Dark's core is a headcanon I adore, 2 - the chill preceding a wendigo's approach reminds me of Danny's ghost sense, 3 - Danny is the LEAST greedy person I can think of in the entirety of DP (even if he does have his selfish moments at the worst times ever), and 4 - wendigos possess human beings. In Native legend a wendigo is a "malevolent spirit" which possesses humans - technically if you are going to stick with the general wendigo legends then it does not have antlers, horns, or is even a beast. It's just a giant human. Which, if using the correct/original version of a wendigo, makes this 10x funnier to me, because Damian that is clearly a giant person what the fUCK ARE YOU DOING--

Anyways, long story short if you have issues with me using a wendigo for a "haha funny" prompt please DM me with any sort of articles, legends, documentaries, ect. on why using a wendigo is a Bad Thing. Like I said in the linked post, I'm always willing to learn and adjust my behavior. I just want proof that the changes I'm going to make are the correct ones to be making, as my years on the internet have ALWAYS told me to fact check anything :)

#dcxdp prompt #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #batman #let danny be feral #please #i want him and damian to be besties #also if hals the person who first finds out about danny? #god that would be so funy #or even better!! #a villain #harley quinn introducing this cool deer-thing to her hyenas #hey boys! this is your new brother :D #hes different but its cool #while ivy is sitting in the living room with her head in her hands #... actually fuck it danny is found by harley #and they become besties #while damian is trying to be her arch nemesis and failing #but hes kind of okay with it because Father can I please have a cool deer like harley's?