#Doll keychain for the big man

[mew-ya]

this was absolutely a delight to read, how sweet and silly this is!! absolutely loved it! Mr. Cool falling apart to reveal Mr. Goof is some of my top favorite takes on Katakuri. I’m going to hoard this like a little dragon for days when I am sad

hi bas! I loved the sweet katakuri one you wrote for #2 last time <3 you know I'm here to appreciate any of the katakuri content you get inspired to make, so I'd like to request 48 for katakuri, or for something different, 30 for boo!

Sugar

Character: Katakuri Reader: gender neutral (ambiguous body and presentation, no gendered pronouns) CW: idk food and possible second-hand embarrassment? plus extreme size difference but this is to be expected with Katakuri 🤭 Word count: 866 Prompt: One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s. A/N: Mew! ❤️ And a classic Katakuri trope 👀 Had to do a little thought-yoga to figure out something tad different than usual, and I hope the result will be satisfying! Anyway, please blame Sugar, Sugar for the final idea and title. And when it comes to Boo...we will see later what can be done :3

Kiss Event! | if you liked it, please consider reblogging and/or leaving some feedback ❤️

Sometimes you wonder if it wouldn’t be more comfortable for the both of you if Katakuri got himself a purse designed for carrying you around. You’re small enough to be carried in a single hand of his or perch on his shoulder, but both come with serious perks, mainly taking great toll on his coordination. He’s doing perfect regardless and he would never say a word about it, if it was an issue for him, but even a walking, polished definition of flawlessness would do much better with all arms in use.  

Besides, you’re sure that being closed in a soft yet tight space would somehow reduce all this…shaking.

Well, you had no choice but to adjust. The only option left was trying to run by his side but no matter how hard you tried, he still had to stop and wait for you every so often. No matter the perks, being held like a doll was simply the best. If only you wouldn’t be so exposed…

Katakuri though, apparently, prefers to carry you directly, so every time the topic of the “Y/N Carrier” was brought to discussion, he used all means and excuses he could imagine to somehow wiggle out of the topic. He rarely shows initiative in relationship matters, so you let him have it even if just for the sheer encouragement, the abject purse less and less appearing between the two of you. If your fate is to be a doll keychain for a giant man who would much rather prefer to stay inside instead of rushing away from an overexcited crowd—so be it.

Right now, the crowd is nowhere to be seen, thank goodness: the last thing you both need right now are Katakuri’s fans delaying you two. You’re both soaked in the sticky-sweet rain of Totto Land that should rather be called a soda. The thoughts of “Y/N Carrier” just press on your brain, with nearly surgical precision, the harder the more the world around you shakes and tries to turn you into a sugar statue. You’re small but not small enough to hide in a closed hand, no matter how you try to curl between his thick fingers. No mercy for those who demanded an evening stroll around the neighborhood. 

Even Katakuri’s stoic mask starts breaking. By the time you make it home he’s almost shaking, the stickiness of everything getting on his nerves so much he doesn’t bother to hide grimaces and displeased groans. With a single frown he scatters gathered servants, a few huge steps later closing the door of your room behind. It’s the nearer one, counting from the entrance, so the choice is only logical; still, his presence in your sphere is a step you wouldn’t predict. So far, he’s been keeping his distance, meeting you on the common ground of the rest of the house. 

Relief paints on his face when Katakuri secures the lock and tears the shawl off his face. Sweet rain has almost turned it into a glue trap, some loose strands stick to his cheeks and chin, and he desperately tries to peel them off, only making it worse with an equally sticky hand. Lost in the sensory hell—or out of habit—he switches hands, and brings you close to his face, almost knocking you down as you were already standing up, ready to be put on the ground. 

He freezes, awkwardly, with you on an open palm somewhere at the level of his collarbones. He didn’t see that coming, you realize, equally fazed—and enamored. What a day full of surprises: not being able to predict rain is one, but failing to use haki he has trained to the point it’s like breathing to him? That’s new, that’s pleasantly new, and a little impish voice in your head nudges you to take the opportunity before it slips out of your hands forever. 

Balancing on his palm, you climb on your toes, now on the perfect level with his lips. It’s not a foreign view to you, he kissed you already, and you know his taste and the feel of his against your face. But you have never caught him so off-guard, so vulnerable, and even a little stupid as his perfectly-polished cogs seem to be glued with the sugary paste. 

He doesn’t flinch when you touch his face, a good sign according to your judgment. Just his cheeks get redder the closer you get, the blush eventually spilling up his forehead and down his neck by the time the distance between you turns into a mere inch. Is he embarrassed because of his little haki failure—or flustered because of such unexpected closeness? Whatever it is, you soak in the results, doing your best to carve every precious second into your memory—before finally going for it.

It’s short. It’s sweet. It’s very sweet and sticky, and your lips remain glued together for a good moment before Katakuri finds his thoughts back and helps you, patiently peeling you away until you’re free and breathing again. 

“We—” His eyes flutter closed, his long eyelashes adding to the adorable look. He’s still puzzled and unsure, words get lost in the way to his tongue, and his face burns red. It takes a lot from you to not laugh. “Bath. Yes. We need a bath.”

[reallyromealone]

Uncanny Valley reader

I don't remember what part

Male reader

Violence, fluff

🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷☁️🩷(name)s move was prompt.

Ran watching the cats explore the new area and a majority of (name)s belongings in storage (mostly his stuffed toys and furniture), The Bonten executive excited to have his strange boyfriend around more often.

(Name) held his hello kitty blanket and squishmallow confused and Ran cooed "you can put your stuff anywhere darling, my home is yours"

(Name) tentatively put his stuff in little areas, a stuffed plush there and his blanket on the bed.

That was another thing ran was going to enjoy.

Sharing a bed with (name).

Ran was determined to be a good boyfriend to (name) who also did try his best in his own way, the broker letting ran cuddle him and even wear one of rans shirts to bed.

Ran didnt want (name) finding a new apartment.

Though the others?

They couldn't stand it.

And boy did it FILL RAN WITH SO MUCH JOY.

(Name) and rans schedules were surprisingly similar though ran did have to drag (name) from his computer to bed when the man wouldn't sleep with the promise of more Cat videos and people watching at the park.

(Name) liked how ran smelled.

He always smelt very nice, expensive.

(Name) never imagined having a relationship much less being the little spoon, letting ran take the lead in the relationship. He didn't think he would enjoy not being in control but Ran seemed to know what he was doing so (name) let him do as he pleased.

Ran learned (name)s likes and dislikes, he wasn't fond of big fancy dinners often, the broker liked private rooms to eat and ran didn't mind, less likely to get killed that way.

(Name) was also not easy to impress as the man was always on edge but Ran learned what he liked.

Cute things and soft things.

Ran was truly dating a cat.

The two got ready at the same time, Ran splitting his closet for (name) "you have so many plush toys and blankets but three suits"

"Yes?"

"We have very different priorities, I know how much Bonten pays you so why don't you buy suits baby?"

Ran also learned (name) liked nicknames and pet names but only out of the public eye "Why would I need more?"

"Why not?"

Today was a rare day off, ran deciding to take (name) out clothes shopping, the man having one set of pajamas, three suits and five casual pants and shirts.

Ran was appaled.

Ran managed to convince his boyfriend to go clothes shopping with the promise of buying him a limited edition plush toy.

What they weren't counting on was Bonten tagging along in disguises..

"Wear this..." Mikey commanded to the deadpan broker, handing him a god awful shirt but the man just shrugged and went into the change room and tried it on.

"When can I get my plush" (name) said deadpan, clearly not enjoying this experience and ran wanted to scream, not at (name) but at the others who were taking up his time but Ran appreciated how (name) always focused his attention on his boyfriend when asking questions. "(Name)! Try this!" Koko beamed and held clearly women's lingerie and the broker just looked cold and dead before going and changing into his clothes and walking out of the store "God damn it..." Ran mumbled.

Over the months with (name) he learned (name)s tells and he knew (name) was very much done.

He ended up finding him at a gatcha machine corner getting little keychains.

(Name) was beyond uncomfortable, he didn't have experience with a lot of people at once and malls were only used for people watching or info gathering.

Not people who he knew didn't like him months prior suddenly wanting attention.

He didn't understand.

"Hey baby, cute keychains" Ran joked and (name) looked at him "I'm not some doll to be dressed, can we end this errand and return to your apartment?" (Name) mumbled gripping the keychains, he didn't even get his plush like promised.

Ran nodded and ended up ditching Bonten (save for Rindō who he asked to get the plush and a few other cute things for (name)) and went back to the penthouse "they're insistence is confusing and unwelcome" (name) said simply "yeah, I wish they would lay off too..." Ran said bringing him to the livingroom where the cats were currently very entranced with the birds on the balcony.

Ran smiled as (name) and him ended up cuddling on the couch, the broker clearly overwhelmed and overstimulated and after head scratches and shows Ran introduced (name) to, the man was out cold in comfy clothes.

He looked absolutely precious.

People often forgot who and what (name) was and did.

He was absolutely precious to Ran but seeing him beat a guy senseless with a briefcase and an empty expression was both horrifying and *hot* to the elder Haitani. The man was half conscious as (name) bent down "don't try and swindle me" he hissed out and bashed the guys face into the floor before getting up.

(Name) recently began working with Bonten fully no longer as an information broker but as an intelligence gatherer strictly under Bonten.

"I don't like this apartment" (name) said simply as he looked it over, it was a very nice place, state of the art appliances and an excellent view of the city "what don't you like about it?" Ran asked as Rindō checked out the rooms "it's not right"

This had been (name)s answer for the past four apartments and Ran was confused, what was wrong with these places?

Then it clicked.

And Ran was smug.

(Name) now only slept in Rans bed, in Rans clothes and cuddling ran.

He got ready with Ran.

He ate with Ran.

He did most things with Ran.

What was missing from the apartments was Ran.

"Still looking for an apartment?" Koko asked (name) who was walking to his new office as (name) technically counted as an executive as he was in charge of an entire sector.

"Yes" (name) said smiling, he didn't like Kokos company or most of their company "well an apartment opened up in my building, I can put a good word in for you!" He offered and (name) shook his head "I have decided to continue my residency with Ran" (name) said simply and the energy in the office plummeted as the men lowkey pouted but (name) didn't care "does this mean we can move your stuff to my place fully?' Ran grinned fully aware of what he's doing.

"Yes" (name) looked very unsettling as he walked into his office and Ran followed "you know you don't have to do that if you don't want to" Ran said softly and (name) was twitchy "it's fine" he said stiffly "is it?'

"I... I enjoy your company greatly... I don't want to be without it... Is it acceptable for me to continue?"

"Absolutely baby" he said kissing (name) softly and spoke "we can take your stuff out of storage... I have three extra rooms, we can put all you're cute stuff in there"

"Stuffed toys on the bed?"

"You can have five"

"Deal"

[puffins-studio]

Zombies AU! 🦠

I got to sew another set of Spydoc doll to add to @picnokinesis ’s fic collection! I was given free reign for koschei’s outfit so obviously I did my best to go all out 😆 even added some extra grim! Image description and explanation of his outfit with all the little Easter eggs and things is under the cut

Even if you don’t like the idea of zombies I highly this fic, am not really one for the gore in zombie movies but this fic it have big on the science side of zombies and am a sucker for and it’s don so nicely! I absolutely love it!

@picnokinesis Zombie AU “Future Dust (blood and rust)”

Bonus pictures of our little meet up! Which was totally amazing!! Taka is just a brilliant and kind person! So am really happy I get to make them dolls base on their fics! As always they just turn out to be really fun to make!

For costumes designed I like zombie koschei’s look as it’s match’s 13’s, the brown shoes, blue pants, purple shirt/sweater. there also a thing going around of villains wearing sweaters but it also give a misleading soft look and the zombie virus probably makes him cold. His jacket have a grey inside and a hood. He also in the same color palette as camper van koschei. I was trying to make him match with Theo and her jacket as what are the chances that they found matching jackets and put them on because it reminds them of each other. A little detail that I added just because I thought he be crazy enough to do something like that, you can see it in the picture but I put a little piece of green felt that matches theo’s bandanna around his wrist just under his sleeve like there a bracelet as if he found a piece of her and he wanted to keep her close/ maybe if it the other way around. And I also just switched which sides their hair parts to what they have in campervan

[ID: The pictures is of two felt doll that are the shape of a gingerbread man with a big head, one is supposed to be the Thirteenth Doctor and the other is Dhawan Master from Picnokinesis’s fic. Dhawan master have light brown felt for skin, black hair with a fringe to his left and sideburns hanging past his ears. He also have brown spotting over his face for scaring. He have on brown shoes, dark blue pants, a purple sweater and a brown jacket hoodie with a grey lining. Thirteen has shoulder length, dirty blonde hair that hang just pass her ears. She has on 13’s purple rainbow stripe shirt, cargo pants and black shoes, and a brown jacket and a green bandanna around her neck. She also has a green backpack with a brown sleeping bag rolled up on top, a metal pipe sticking out of it. With a little embroidery of a planet with a ring, a moon, and a star to be a Easter egg for camper van there a virus shape keychain. 1st picture is them together, 2nd is a picture of the back of the doctor to see her backpack with a brown sleeping bag and a felt metal pipe sticking out of the top, 3rd is a picture of her front, and the 4th is a close up of the master.:ID]

[candlecoo]

Wooden Doll AU

So a civilian made all of Changling's merch, if I remember correctly. But what would happen after Izuku is a hero student? Would Mr Civilian get the paperwork equivalent of a "you do you, man" or what? Because there's no way Izu would allow those designs to be sold without Mr Civilian getting paid, but now he's a hero with ALL the extra hoops to jump through (the downside of being a hero).

Personal "hehe funny thought" is:

Changling: drops into Mr Civilian's yard, accompanied by Required Adult Supervision

Changling: "I got caught. Sign here."

Changling: hands over a Nezu approved "carry on, fam" document of approval

Mr Civilian:

Changling:

Mr Civilian: what

oh absolutely!!! no way is Izuku gonna sign with a big merch company when he has such unique quality merch already! so Izuku strikes a bargain with Nezu so that his independent merch creator becomes his official contract merch creator.

I didn't name this oc before but I will now!

his name is Ashikaga Sana. his quirk allows his to alter the quality, color, pattern and texture of fabrics. his mother was a seamstress and his father named/made colors for paint companies.

Sana mostly uses his quirk when creating clothing and plushies to sell at cons or to wear himself, but he makes all kinds of merch such as figurines, keychain charms, and posters.

after signing Nezu's contract Sana starts his own independent merch company and opens a popular shop. he ends up getting contracts with other members of class 1-A when they debut.

[strayfoxxchan]

Pairing: skz!Bang Chan x f!reader

Genre: Song Fic if you squint, Fluff? Comfort? Idk

Content Warning: Mention of alcohol, mention of harassment

Soundtrack: Morganite Wings - Dvii

A/N: Thanks @/thevampywolf for proofreading!

Don't you want to know what it feels like?

Being exposed in these lights

I see it in your eyes

Think that we'll be reaching for the heavens all night

So hold on to this feeling 'till it's over

Know that you won't love me when we're sober

This is all so temporary

It'll all be gone before you know it

But let's not get it twisted

I still love your faded kisses

And even if it's just for a moment, I want it

Let's make this last 'till we both feel something

There was something about a live music show on a Friday night that gave you just enough energy to make it through the weekend. The dim lights, the pulse of human bodies moving in sync, the sounds of an overjoyed audience… There was nothing like it. 

You’d made it a routine of sorts. Even if the group playing at the local club wasn’t one you knew, you still tried to get dolled up to go out. Your mental health hadn’t been the best lately; the stressors of being an adult, living on your own for the first time, and working a 9-5 in a big city weren’t as much of a dream as you had expected it would be when you left home. Doing something like this was an excellent excuse to pull yourself out of mundanity at least once a week. It was just a bonus if you did happen to know the group or artist that was playing. Tonight was one of those nights. 

Standing at the back of the venue gave you a better sense of scale: it was a small club with a smaller stage, but people were packed tightly together like sardines. The artist didn’t take up much room, armed with only a guitar and a small production setup. Despite that, the audience was rabid. You found yourself swaying side to side, half-finished drink in hand, eyes closed and taking in the vibe. 

A hand snakes around your waist, but you are here alone. Your eyes snap open, and you wheel around, pushing the stranger away from you. 

“What the fuck,” you growl at the man. He looks back at you with a  grin, reaching back to you and grabbing your wrist. He has a vice-like grip that you just can’t shake off. You struggle with him briefly before another man walks up, holding the Chesire man and pushing him off you. He’s wearing a baseball cap and a face mask, obscuring his features. 

“Get off of her,” the muscular man growls as you look on in disbelief. For a moment, you’re convinced an all-out brawl might break out. The two stare each other down, the Cheshire man starting to get in the masked man’s face. The masked man doesn’t back down, which seems enough for the Chesire man. He shoves passed the man in the mask, butting his shoulder against him as he walks away.

“Are you okay?” He says, reaching his hand towards your shoulder but stopping short. 

You came to this club to decompress, not to cause issues. Instead of answering, you head straight back to the bar. You perch on a stool, burying your head in your hands. The man follows behind you. 

“Why did you do that? I could have protected myself,” you grumble through your fingers.

“I promised I would protect STAY,” he laughs, motioning at the Wolf Chan keychain hanging from your purse. 

You drop your hands and arch an eyebrow, staring directly at him. “That’s… a weird thing to say.”

On occasion, you’d wondered if the “K-pop superhero disguise” was effective in any way, and now you knew. The longer you stared at his eyes in the dimly lit bar area of the venue, the more you recognized him. You reach up and bat the brim of his baseball cap down over his face.

“Are you crazy?!” Your eyes dart around you. “Isn’t someone going to recognize you?!”

“You didn’t,” Chan laughs momentarily, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Protect STAY,” you scoff, rubbing your face. 

“Y’gonna thank me?” His eyes gleam, and he’s smiling under his N95. 

“Thank you, Christopher. You are relieved of your protective duties,” you wave your hand back at the crowd. “Enjoy the show.” You were too shocked to process what was happening. 

He sits down on the barstool beside you. “So… you come here often?”

“Oh, we’re doing that?” You can feel yourself flushing. Thankfully, the lighting is awful, and you’re optimistic he can’t see it. You down the rest of your drink for courage before shoving it away. “Why yes, yes I do.” You give a mock-flirtatious flick of your hair. 

“Wait, do you really?” He laughs. “How often?”

“Every Friday,”

“You know that much music?!” He looks aghast (you think). 

“Not even a little bit.”

“Then why?” There’s a sparkle in his eye that you can’t quite decipher. He rests an elbow on the bar and rests his chin on his hand.

“I just… like the atmosphere, I guess. When you’re feeling less than alive, sometimes the beat of the bass and the crowd's pulse moving in sync is just the right medicine.” You look away wistfully for a moment. “But I do love this guy,” you motion at the stage. 

He holds a hand out towards you. “Dance with me?”

“Dance with you?” Your eyes widen. 

“Thank you isn’t enough. Dance with me,” Chan says, a touch more forcefully, still grinning. 

“I can’t dance,” you stare at him, taking his hand and sliding off the barstool. The lightness in your head from the alcohol was making you brave. 

The two of you have danced for ages. Chan dances with you as if no one is watching and forgets everything around you. You forget that you can’t dance. For a moment, you’re the only two in this club. 

You stand on your toes and let your lips touch his mask; it’s more of a smile than a kiss. “On behalf of STAY,” you say, loud enough for him to hear over the music. 

It shocks him enough to stop dancing briefly. Then, emboldened by your courage, he pulls you close and slides his mask down his chin. 

“On behalf of me,” he smiles, dimples on display before kissing you. 

[bengiyo]

Stay by My Side Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Last time, Jiang Chi and Bu Xia kissed but downplayed the seriousness of it in a way only Taiwan could do. We've reached the point where Bu Xia should probably just talk to the ghosts because he had to spend a few days without Jiang Chi around. Jiang Chi also joined their basketball team, and definitely thinks they're dating.

Not the school newspaper showing up to interview them!

Feels kinda meta with Jiang Chi answering ambiguously to keep them from being totally out but also not backing down from his feelings.

This dude is now dreaming about making out with this man.

They really got Bu Xia washing this man's shirt by hand.

Bu Xia has such big ears.

Bu Xia....my man...what even is this thing with the towel as you pull him closer during this kiss?

He is coping with his anxiety by using his keychains like puppets or dolls.

Ah here we are. A classic misunderstanding!!

Oh wow we're confronting the misunderstanding immediately.

Yes, Jiang Chi! I love Taiwanese shows so much when they hit for me. He knows who he is and how he feels and doesn't have to put up with having his feelings be misused.

Oh my goodness we're getting win him back plays next week.

[saleintothe90s]

482. Seventeen Magazine, March 1996

(see also: 1994, 1995)

Two things that are sightly upsetting: 1. I barely remember looking through this issue when I was 12. 2. I had to pay $30 for this issue off eBay.

Unfortunately, the Tendrecils line from Lancome is discontinued. Doesn't stop me from misreading it as "tendrils" though.

Does Kate know what magazine she's reading. This was Seventeen in 1995/1996, not 'Teen. 'Teen was the girly magazine back then. I don't know about Y/M, never read that one.

Those Hush Puppies the girl in blue is wearing.

South Coast Today [archive]

A similar green pair with laces seemed to be everywhere in my magazines for a brief time in 1996. I never saw anybody wearing 'em though. Never saw them at Kinney. I don't see 'em on eBay either, Joel sold 6,000 pairs at his store in 1995, wherearethey. 1

'Y'all know Cover Girl still makes this?!

Remember this beautiful "great" packaging Maybelline had. If I had money to throw around to collect old makeup, this would definitely be in the collection.

The fuzzy trim dress was a classic prom dress (or, at least the teen magazines made it seem that way) for the mid to late 90s.

Anna's dress is #1. I love the short sequin Hawaiian print dress. That is 1996.

There's those black and white dresses again! The Chanteuse girls will kick all of our butts.

I saw a lot more of these pastel dresses in my 1997 issues, which sadly yes, I'm trying to find on eBay right now. No luck.

If I was allowed to have makeup back then, you better believe I would have worn this look at school the next day.

I honestly had no clue that self tanner was a thing yet, or maybe just a thing that was sold at like, Saks in the glass case.

Slick straight hair. That was the thing. I had hair down to my waist back then so suffice to say I was not sporting this look

I used to get my Sanrio stuff from the My Doll and Toy Shoppe in downtown Hampton, Virginia. If you said the name of the store quick, it almost sounded like "MIDOL toy shop".

Every time I would see this ad for Kaepa shoes, naive 12 year old me thought "oh my god is that girl going to burn her school down?"

I had that lava lamp keychain and the 8 ball! I used to get them from either Claire's or Spencers. I had a Cracker Jack keychain too around this time that will just randomly show up in my dreams.

Did people really have scanners to scan in their handwriting back then? I imagine they were a small fortune back then. I tried doing some research on this software, but nothing came up.

Mickey was still stuck in 1995.

Oh, these were SO GOOD in the waining days of the low fat craze.

I remember when the Backstreet Boys got real big when I was in high school, I thought back to the ad and wondered "wait, haven't they been around for a while?" In 1996, they didn't even have an album in the U.S. yet.

"our internet address is.."

Some of these look more like pageant dresses.

I adore all the short dresses in this issue.

Is this a freshman dance? They look like freshmen.

Sharon Stone is a not-g0ing-to-prom icon.

Man, what happened to Finesse? It's like once 2000 hit, it became bottom shelf stuff.

There's always one dress that makes me sad in the prom issues, and I think it's this one. It looks so ... mature.

School Zone time, real pics of real kids from a school in Las Vegas:

The shiny, silky shirts!

These are the only two things I remember from this issue when I was 12: MaryBeth's amazing outfit--I wanted it so bad--and Jennaia's cat shirt.

A baby Tobey Maguire.

Baby Eliza Dushku. Did anybody else other than me think it was totally the norm for a guy to want to wear a bright tuxedo like this to prom?

I wish my scanner app on my phone got a better picture of this amazing Betsey Johnson dress Kathleen Robertson is wearing.

ok, a lot going on here on page 230.

-When I was attending Mary Baldwin College, there was this really cheezy store downtown that sold mostly cutesy poo gag gifts. Very cringe store. I'm sure if that store existed in 1996, they would have sold PMS Crunch.

-We're still in the waining days of the low fat craze here, so here are some "healthy" chips. Garden of Eatin' is still around! I think Guiltless Gourmet went out of business?

-I want to see photos and or footage of the Creamette Pasta Party at Tavern on the Green. All I I found was a blip on the New York Times:

On Saturday, about 17,000 carbo-loaders at the annual pre-marathon pasta party at Tavern on the Green will dig into five dishes created by New Yorkers, one from each borough. The dishes were the winners in a contest sponsored by Creamette pasta. The judges included as many weathermen (Storm Field and Mr. G) and sportswriters (David Kaplan of The Daily News) as food experts (Patrick Clark, Bob Lape and Robin Leach).

The meals, which will be served from 4:30 to 8:30 P.M., are free to runners in the New York City Marathon, which will be held on Sunday. The dishes are: baked ziti and vegetables by Martha Katzeff of the Bronx, rigatoni with beef and cheese by Mike Boyd of Brooklyn, spinach-rotini toss by Barbara Shields of Staten Island, creamy macaroni and basil salad by Karin Mackin of Queens and sweet nutmeg kugel by Diane Girer of Manhattan. All the recipes are by runners. 2

Remember when these Y-Necklaces were popular for about a minute?

1.Parnes, Francine . “Old Dog Trots Out in Trendy Places.” New Bedford Standard-Times, December 25, 1995. https://www.southcoasttoday.com/story/news/1995/12/26/old-dog-trots-out-in/50652285007/. 2.Fabricant, Florence. “Food Notes.” The New York Times, November 8, 1995, sec. Home & Garden. https://www.nytimes.com/1995/11/08/garden/food-notes-021709.html.

[antihibikase2]

Request a drabble using this prompt list!

Even at his worst, Ghetsis had a code of honor- at least, that was what he liked to tell himself.

At the arrival of his son along with The Hero of Truth, he scoffs and taps his cane against the icy floor, claiming that the true battle has yet to begin- and allows the heroes ample time to prepare, claiming he is a fair man.

He finds himself saying that, even as N stops himself from declaring his father a monster- for the damaged states of Nikolai, of Hugh, of Rosa, and of Cheren, three of which were nearing death.

Hilbert approaches Nate, still in a state of shock, still kneeling on the floor, still shivering from the attack; the same attack that Cheren took for him.

Cheren, in his hold, was cold and still; like a broken doll.

The Hero of Truth takes his heart into his arms, walking him to a stone pedestal.

Nate follows, blocking out Ghetsis' gloating voice with the sound of the keychains swinging on his bag, his damaged soundboard beeping and playing distorted, choppy bytes of music.

As Hilbert places Cheren on the pedestal, he whispers something Nate could not hear- a secret like the contents of his letter.

But he doesn't leave just yet, his warm hand pressed against Cheren's cold cheek.

Nate looks down at his mentor and his frostbitten hands, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.

"Big bro, I-"

In his mind, Cheren is by the bench at Aspertia's lookout, melancholic and waiting.

"I've been thinking of what you told me, of what it means to be a hero,"

Cheren would look away from Aspertia's sunset, instead of lying still.

"I can't- I can't forget the things you said to me,"

Cheren would have smiled at him, laughing off the serious conversation they would be having- instead of begging Nate to run away, to never become a hero.

"I- I understand now, I-"

The Hero of Truth holds his shaking hand, squeezing it- the power of Reshiram must have been coursing through his veins, with how warm his touch was.

"You're Zekrom's chosen, aren't you?"

At the mention of the black dragon's name, Nate saw bits of static on his palm, barely repelled by Cheren's cardigan- Cinccino fur, he remembered.

"You- both of us have a lot of things we want to tell him, but now-"

From behind them, Reshiram spreads its majestic wings, shielding the party and its injured twin from the view of Ghetsis and Kyurem.

The bursts of fire felt like a warm summer day.

"..let's finish what I've started first, alright?"

Nate didn't meet his gaze once.

But, with a stiff nod and one last glance at his mentor, he adjusted his visor and prepared himself for battle.

[thegreengoop]

# rewrite bitchez

I decided to rewrite this bc I had no cohesive thoughts writing this the first time, and also shout out to @readers-posts for requesting more (back in October lol).

Anyway, it'll contain most of the same warnings, maybe some smut eventually if motivation allows me to write more.

“Fuck” you mutter to yourself as your fingers numbly fumble with your keychain. Screw the northeast for being so cold and damp this time of year. Finally, the proper key slides into place and you lock up the doors to Nelson & Murdock Attorneys at Law. A glance at your too-bright phone screen tells you it’s around one in the morning, and you’re already regretting staying late to catch up on organizing files for the firm. Someone clears their throat behind you. The person you’d least expected to see was standing before you in the dim light of the hallway, but you could make out those dark, ominous eyes and the shocking pattern of scars over his face. “Billy,” you breathe the word, talking to yourself more than him. “Hey doll,” he smirks at you but his eyes look furious under the shadow of his hoodie. You step back unconsciously, pressing yourself against the door you’d just locked.

“What do you want Bill?” you questioned, forcing yourself no to shy away and look him in the eye. A cold smile grows over his face as he steps toward you. You slide to the side, heading away from him, not wanting to turn your back to the man you once trusted, but even with your guard up Billy is 10 times the fighter you are.

“I just want you, babydoll. Come back to me, huh?” He tries for a reassuring smile, and you don’t know if it’s the brain damage he suffered, facial injuries, or your complete lack of faith in him but you see right through the mask.

“I’m sorry Billy but – hey!” He’s not listening as he grabs you by the arms, pushing you in front of him towards the door at the front of the building, narrowly keeping you from falling down the stairs in your struggle. One of his big hands moves to cover your mouth to muffle your yelling, his other arm easily taking you along with him. You both step out onto the wet sidewalk to see a car idling out front, presumably for you. Billy pushes you into the back seat before he grabs a rope from the seat and calmly ties your clammy, shaking hands to the handle, making sure to child lock the doors once he’s satisfied with your restraints. He coolly walks to the driver’s seat and gets in.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll be taking good care of you now.” You couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at his words.

Matt Murdock/Billy Russo dark!fic

heyo, so I've had this saved for a while and never got around to adding any more so figured I should just post it to maybe drum up some inspiration to continue. It would be considered a dark! fic, probably more so in theory but...

Warnings: kidnapping and all that that may entail (handcuffing, being put in a trunk), being kidnapped by an ex, non con - No Smut though. Let me know if I missed something - it's been a hot minute since I've read this, I just try not to cringe and post and never look back.

This is meant to be a reader x Matt Murdock/Daredevil but also kinda reader x Billy Russo.

“Hey, we’re heading out now,” you look up as you hear Foggy’s tired voice coming from the door of the office you’re sitting in. You can see Karen standing behind him pulling her long coat on over her shoulders and picking up her purse from where she sat it on a chair near in the waiting area of the office.

            “Oh, okay,” you say as you glance up at the clock ticking away on the far wall, realizing you’ve been at work way longer than you meant to. “I’ve still got a bit I’d like to get done here; I’ll lock up tonight. See you guys tomorrow?” Foggy gives you a small nod and you bid each other a good night before he and Karen step out into the hallway, closing the door behind them, leaving you alone in the small, dingey office. You glance back down at the bright screen you’ve been staring at for hours now, suddenly noticing how tired and dry your eyes have become. Taking a step back – or rather, wheeling yourself in your chair a few feet backwards – you try to stretch a bit and try to wake yourself up for another couple of hours of painstakingly filling out various legal forms.

            You decide you’ve done your fair share after just over an hour since your coworkers/friends left, and start packing your things up, shaking your legs awake as you walk around to gather your laptop cord, bag, coat, and keys for your walk home. It’s just after you’ve turned the key in the lock that you get that hair-raising feeling on the back of your neck. Your stomach tenses up. Something is wrong. Just before you get to turn around you see a flash of movement in your peripheral. Then it goes dark.

+

Darkness. That’s all you can describe it as. Your left temple is pulsing with pain and you’re still so out of it and you can’t lift your head without wincing. Your arms flail out to get any sense of where you are, feeling that you’re closed in a small space, a rough carpet under you digging into your exposed skin. Suddenly there’s a jolt and your head lifts and smacks back on the ground, flaring up your already blazing headache. You realize you must be in someone’s trunk.

     Who the fuck’s trunk am I in?

The cogs in your brain are slowly starting to turn again. The car smells clean, maybe a rental, and there’s not much of anything that you can grab or make use of. You feel around for a handle or something to pop the lid open, or a way to unplug or knock out the taillights, but this person or people must have planned ahead. All your fingers could find was hard plastic fitted and screwed onto every surface but the floor. As a last-ditch effort, you start kicking, punching, and scratching at any place you thought might be a weak spot, before your foggy brain comes to the realization that at some point your captor is going to take you out of this trunk, and here you are wasting your energy trying to beat up a hunk of plastic.

So you lay your head back down, and listen. For a while there isn’t much noise other than the sound of the engine and the wheels hitting the pavement below you. You can’t hear any music playing, but there is sometimes some muffled muttering from the other side of the wall separating you from the cab. You wait, counting the turns as you feel yourself sliding around on the rough carpeting. Left, right, right, left. You’re trying to remember everything you’ve learned from watching crime tv shows and how to hopefully not die.

The car comes to a harsh stop, and you’re flung up against the wall again. You hear the engine turn off and one of the doors slamming shut, and you wait to hear footsteps approaching, but they don’t come. You don’t know it you’re more relieved or worried that they haven’t immediately come and taken you out. Who is this? What are they planning? Why me? Time passes, the throbbing in your skull doesn’t help in the struggle to stay awake, and just as you feel yourself on the edge of consciousness, you hear the crunching of boots of gravel heading in your direction. Your eyes widen in the darkness, and you push yourself as far back in the trunk as you can, preparing for a struggle. The lid unlocks, and you hold your breath as you wait to come face to face with whoever it is that’s taken you. The trunk pops open, and pale fingers find their way under the lid as they lift it open. You let out that breath you’ve been holding, you never expected to see the face of your ex looking down on you framed by the confines of a car trunk, but here you are.

“Billy,” you breathe, feeling your chest tighten at the sight of his scarred face. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. This couldn’t be good. The last time you saw that face, it was bandaged up in a hospital room, staring confusingly at you as you walked out on this person who not only didn’t know who you were anymore, but you could barely recognize him yourself – not necessarily from the wrappings or the scars, but it had been revealed to you just what Billy did to deserve those scars. Seeing him now did leave a twinge of something in your chest, something you wouldn’t let yourself examine just yet nor even had the time to, given your situation.

“Hey pretty,” Billy said lowly to you, an unsettling smile coming across his shadowed face. You flinch back as he reaches down to grab a hold of you by the arms and drags you up outside of the car.

“Billy what- what are you doing?”

“Just wanna talk, sweetheart, I missed you, where’d you go on me? Hmm?” He said in an increasingly unstable tone. He’s pressing your body close to his as he almost carries you into the back door of an industrial-looking building, metal door slamming shut behind you, flickering incandescent bulbs and broken chains hang from the high ceiling above you. You stagger past a group of intimidating men, not seeming very interested in the kidnapping occurring right next to them, who continue their game of cards and drinking cheap alcohol.

Billy brings you to a room downstairs far away from the others. It’s sparse; a few rusted old chairs pushed into the corners and a metal radiator protruding from the wall a few feet right of a sunken egress window. He pushes you into the room, shutting the door firmly behind the two of you. You spin around to look at him, able to get a better look at him from the yellow streetlight filtering in through the window. His hair is growing out from being shaved, the same with his stubble. You haven’t seen Billy since you left him in that hospital room, and now you look over the light pink scars crisscrossing his handsome face. The two of you stand like that for a moment, taking each other in after not seeing the other for so long.

“What do you want Bill?” You ask, trying not to let your voice shake. He silently steps closer to you, that dark look in his eyes. You step back to keep the distance between you two, inadvertently bringing yourself closer to being cornered by him.

“I just… want to know,” he says after a pause, that confused look coming back over his face. “I don’t, I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he says gesturing to his face, “to deserve you leaving me, right when I needed you most.” The sad, kicked puppy look in his black eyes almost got to you - would’ve had you on your knees begging to do whatever he wanted, or wanted to do to you, once upon a time. Now it makes you nauseous. The affect this killer has on you.

“I…” you trail off, “I don’t think I’m the right person to ask, Bill. You did something, something terrible. Maybe I should’ve stayed there for you, after you forgot everything, but I couldn’t even look at you after finding out.” His hand reaches up to touch his own face, a hollow look in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a while, the two of you standing in the near silence of the room, the echoes of the men’s laughter upstairs making their way down to you. You glance around, gathering a greater sense of the room, the rough crumbling concrete of the floor and walls, the small pool of stagnant water in the far corner, the painted shut emergency window. When you look back, he’s staring at you and you can’t help but feel unsettled with how his gaze is familiar but at the same time, it’s the gaze of a stranger.

He approaches you again, this time reaching behind his back for something, and then he’s pulling out the glinting metal of handcuffs. Your breath stutters in your throat, “Billy please- “. He cuts you off with the cold metal closing around your right wrist.

“I’m sorry darling,” he murmurs lowly into your ear before he pushes you back against the wall until you’re next to the radiator and refuses to look into your wide-eyed look once he fastens the other cuff around one of the bars. He ignores your pleas and still doesn’t look at you as he stalks back to the door, finally glancing back at you with an almost guilty look as he shuts the door; for the second time that night you are left alone.

[hansensgirl]

baby, but you.

summary. | He hopes you can feel it, because nobody else can heal it but you. Baby, but you.

warnings. | smut, hate fucking (ish), enemies to lover, slight angst, birthdays, degradation, praise, spitting, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, yearning, crushing, riding, couch sex, breeding, possessiveness, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI AND DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES.

word count. | 3.6k

pairings. | Bucky Barnes x Reader.

a/n. | happy birthday @asadmarveltrashbag ilysm!!! thank you so much for being there for me since like day one, for being such a good role model and for just being amazing. thank you so much for listening to me rant and giving me advice, i’m so grateful for you. i hope your birthday is amazing today, i love you so much!! don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know.

He stands afar from you. A cold, calculated stare that you’re almost tempted to challenge with your killer one. There are only about two and a half meters of space separating you two, and even that’s not enough. You’re like a cat and a dog, constantly fighting about God knows what. Sometimes it’s the stupidest of things; other times, it’s the most reasonable. Either he has the television on too loud, or you come home too late. The other neighbours… Well, frankly, they don’t live here anymore.

It’s because they can’t handle his screaming when he has nightmares. You scoffed when you first heard it from your landlord, finding it absolutely insane that nobody is used to the sounds of a nightmare. As if they’re any better. You handle it like a champion, simply just putting on earbuds and your favourite songs at the lowest volume until you fall asleep. You almost feel bad for him when you see him with deep bags under his eyes.

But one short, snarky remark from him has the sympathy in you draining. Almost like the way his hands are the palest colour ever, and his skin doesn’t have the redness it should have. Almost as if the colours on a painting have been scraped off. You shouldn’t be noticing these things, really, but you just can’t help it. He’s almost a shell of the man he once was, at least in his words, but you believe that with some care (not from your hands, ew), he’ll be back to normal.

He shouldn’t notice the way you sigh every time you get home. The way you drag yourself through the carpeted hallway, out from the metal box that Bucky doesn’t trust. He doesn’t charge anything that has to do with heights, so that’s why he’s settled for the second floor. The drop in his stomach brings back so many memories that he can’t bear to remember.

Sometimes, he picks up the rumble of your stomach that he knows you’re embarrassed about, only because when it happens, you become the most fearful sailor to ever cross the shore. You always arrive right before Bucky falls asleep, leaving him at peace. ...No, no, no. It’s not like that. He totally doesn’t wait up until you come home safely before he can actually fall asleep so he can have a sense of calm. No, that’s absurd. Another absurd thing is the ungodly hour that you arrive home.

“Listen, you’re the one who bumped into me, okay? Let’s just leave it at that,” you huff, swinging your keychain between your fingers. Your digits are so soft, only ever coarse when you touch the skin between them. His hands, however, are almost the opposite. They’re rough and dry, but the crevices are a bit damp with sweat from pure nervousness. “No, no, you bumped into me, and we’re going to leave it at that, okay? Okay,” he nods, even though he’s talking to you.

“No, you bumped into me, and that’s that. Goodbye, Mr. Barnes,” you finish, throwing your bag over your shoulder and stomping down the hallways. You don’t look back once, simply just strutting your way to that darned elevator that you loathe. Suddenly, a hand wraps around your arm and turns you around. “I didn’t say you could go; we’re not done until I say we’re done,” he growls, gripping your arm tight enough to have you whimpering.

“No, fuck you. I’m tired of constantly listening to you bitch and moan about things that aren’t even my fault. God, it’s like you’re twenty fucking years old with no maturity, it’s fucking pathetic,” you spit, trying to yank your arm away. But compared to a supersoldier, your strength is equal to a cool spring breeze hitting a concrete building—basically nothing. Bucky’s chest heaves, and for a moment, you’re scared.

But even though he has a temper, he could never hurt you. He’s not the Winter Soldier; you’re sure of it.

His jaw clenches, and you stare at him intensely. Work is long forgotten, just like the fact that today is your birthday. That nervous, jittery feeling that would pool in the pits of your soul isn’t there. You wonder if it’s because you’re all grown up now, or maybe it’s because you’ve been so busy that your birthday seems like any other day in your eyes. Your eyes fall to his lips, almost on instinct. They’re pink and plump, slightly damp from the wetness on his tongue.

He gently pushes you inside his home, and you stumble back in shock. “I have to go to work–” you start, but he cuts you off. “I don’t give a shit. I need to teach you a lesson,” he snaps, pulling off his leather jacket. It has blue hues to it, sometimes grey if shone under the correct lighting. It’s overall black, suiting that dark soul of his that some people claim he has. You keep your mouth shut, clutching onto the strap of your backpack that rests on your right shoulder.

Suddenly, that fiery haze of yours has faded out, and you just watch him dumbfounded. Your jaw is slightly slack, but your eyes aren’t bulging out. Bucky pulls off the unusual leather gloves that always seemed to be a little too big on him. The space between his fingers and the cloth is always too much, and you even contemplated ‘accidentally’ giving him a new, better-fitting pair.

They flop onto the floor with an almost laughable sound, but you know you shouldn’t even dare to crack a smile. “Always going on and on about something. You just need to be shut up for once, don’t you?” Bucky questions, snapping his head towards you. “N- No…” you whisper, looking down to the ground. Suddenly, you prefer looking at wood floors to handsome men such as Bucky.

“Oh… Right, I forgot. You don’t know what’s good for you, that’s why you go to work and come home so late in the night. Bet you don’t have any time to fuck around with those pathetic twenty-year-old douchebags. That’s why you touch that little pussy of yours before you head to work, right?” he questions, and you gulp thickly.

Did he really hear it all?

“Please, I heard the way you finger fuck yourself in the shower all the way here. You really need to learn how to properly lock your door. You’re lucky those old ladies were here when I heard you, or else I would’ve come all the way over there and taught you a real good lesson,” he snaps, and you genuinely feel like doubting every little thing you do. “And you know what’s so funny, doll? I even hear the way you moan my name when you’re about to come,” he whispers, standing so close to you, and you wonder how he even managed to get here.

Your faces are inches away, His warm breath fans against your skin, and Bucky can feel the nervousness seeping through your pores. “Need a refresher? Or are you just going to stay quiet?” he questions, raising his eyebrows. He has a stupid smile on his face, and you’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or slap him. Both seem very appealing, but God, that devil on your shoulder always did have a loud voice.

Your bag joins his gloves on the floor, and you tilt your head upwards to kiss him. Your lips slowly slot against his, the taste of stale coffee immediately fills your mouth as Bucky shoves his tongue past your lips. He cups the side on your face, and your hands remain bent in the air. You don’t know what to do with yourself, so you place them on his shoulders, hoping for the best. He tenses up for a bit, and you start to pull away.

He doesn’t let you go too far. His hands keep you near him, and he stares into your eyes. Blue, blown-out orbs give Bucky an even darker look, and you’re practically sailing the same ship. “Don’t… Don’t go,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. “I won’t, but-” you begin, but he cuts you off with an open-mouthed kiss. It’s so rough, so passionate. Teeth and tongues clash at each other, and you whimper against him as his hands move from your face.

They run down your body before gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him. His front presses against yours, and you can feel his defined muscles through that black t-shirt of his. You wrap your arms around his neck, such a simple act and yet he’s swooning like the lovesick fool he is. No, no, no, he’s not lovesick, and he’s not swooning. He’s just wanting, and that is all, just like you are.

You roll your hips for friction, desperate for something. The faint feeling of Bucky’s hard cock sends shivers down your spine, and you just know he’s huge. He could probably split you in two if he really wants to, and maybe it’s what you want as well. God, just the mental image of his cock sliding in and out of you is so pleasurable. Wetness soaks your panties, and you moan into his mouth.

“Say ‘ah,’ slut,” he mumbles before pulling away from the kiss again. You quickly do so and watch as Bucky puckers his bruised, red lips. You’re not sure what to expect; a stupid, silly kiss or something else. Your tongue is stretched out inside your mouth, and you wait for him as your chest rises and falls. Your eyes watch him as he spits into your mouth, a wad of spit dripping onto your tongue and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets.

You quickly swallow it as if it’s some sort of antidote to an incurable disease. “Oh, you’re such a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? I bet you’d let me do anything to you, right? Let me fuck you silly, throw you around, treat you like the spoiled brat you are,” Bucky growls with a fierce smirk on his stupidly gorgeous face. Sculpted by the Gods themselves, you wonder why the world has been so mean to him.

No, no, no, you don’t. You’re just desperate and needy.

“You really are stupid, and I haven’t even touched that little pussy of yours yet, and you can’t even answer a simple li’l question,” Bucky says out loud, expressing pure shame and disgrace. You shake your head before placing your hands back on his hard, defined chest. There’s a specific spot on his chest where the fabric is too sheer. You can see the way his soft hair has been shaved down to a mere stubble, and you wonder what he’d look like if it was grown out.

“I- I’m a dirty girl, I’d let you do anything to me, James,” you whisper to him, looking up at him with unintentional doe eyes. “I know, baby, I know,” he smirks before pushing you backwards. You expect to collide with the wooden floors harshly and startle the downstairs residents, or maybe even on a carpet that would try to break your fall but would end up failing.

You don’t expect to fall back onto a soft, cushioned couch. It’s more so an armchair that is a greyish-blue colour, one that you’d see and Ikea and want so bad, but you’d quickly change your mind once you see the whopping price it’s set at. Bucky towers over you, and you tilt your head up, still watching has the features of his face twitch a bit. His hands run down to your thighs, smoothing over the fabric of your jeans before his nimble yet strong, thick fingers reach to the button and zipper.

He makes quick work of stripping your clothes off for you, and you try your hardest to do the same for him. But flying, clashing hands that are oh so desperate can’t really do much. So as he pulls your wet panties down your feet, you hurriedly kick them to the floor. Bucky pulls his shirt over his head, and you’re not sure if you’ve lost it or if time truly has slowed down. You’re able to memorize each freckle, each scar, each mole and each muscle of his upper body.

He’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Though everyone has their measly little flaws that can be so bothersome, in your eyes, he has no flaws. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he breathlessly tells you, making you struggle to fight the cheerful smile that forces its way onto your face. “You’re pretty too, James,” you tell him, reaching backwards to unclasp your bra.

Now, there’s nothing special about it, really. It’s plain black, and in some areas, it physically pains you, leaving branded marks behind that feel good when you gently run your hands over them. Nonetheless, you look gorgeous with it on. But when it’s on the floor, treated like nothing, you’re even more beautiful. Your slick has stained your inner thighs with stickiness, and your clit throbs with need.

Bucky parts your legs, watching as strings of wetness pull apart from each other. “Fucking hell, is that all because of me, slut? Say it, tell me who you’re so wet for,” he demands, and your breathing hitches. “S’all for you, James, I’m so wet because of you,” you whisper to him, and he smirks devilishly. You clench around nothing but air, desperate for his cock to be inside you. “I want you so bad, James, please fuck me,” you beg to him desperately, and he chuckles.

Bucky goes to start taking off his pants, unbuckling his belt and pulling down the zipper that sometimes gets caught onto the fabric of his boxers a little too much. The black fabric slips off his skin like an extra layer of skin, and the sight of his hard cock beneath his briefs is so sexy. You let out a shaky breath, and you can just see how fucking huge he is. Impossibly long with a thickness that’ll leave you limping for at least a week or two.

“You know what’s so fucking hilarious, baby? Just moments ago, you were cursing me out, fuming at me and calling me pathetic, but look at you; you’re the pathetic one here. Practically drooling for my cock, so needy as soon as I put my hands on you,” Bucky scoffs, and you know he’s so right. He pulls down his boxers, and you watch as his cock springs out, slapping his lower abdomen and near his pretty Adonis bone.

He roughly pulls you up and sits down on the couch before dragging you onto his lap. You straddle the sides of his thick thighs, and his big cock presses right next to your pussy, between your legs. Beads of precum drip down the shaft of his cock, and some of it even sticks to your skin. “You want my cock, baby? Well, go ahead, you can have it,” he tells you, resting his hands on your hips.

You exhale nervously, knowing that his cock is gonna stretch you out so much, it’ll be borderline painful and pleasurable. You lift your hips up a bit, and Bucky’s hand grasps the base of his cock. He’s sticky and pulsating, a raging red that is almost purple if you squint your eyes enough. He drags it from your swollen little pearl all the way down to your drooling hole. The mild friction is absolutely amazing, making you moan softly.

Bucky shudders as he slowly pushes the tip of his cock inside of you. He almost wants to tease you so badly, make you beg for it until you’re sobbing and going all ditzy for him. But he’s not all the mean, and he can’t possibly be so cruel to the birthday girl. In one swift motion, Bucky pulls you down onto his cock, burying himself inside of you. You toss your head back and cry out as he stretches you painfully. The wet squelching pounds of your pussy are loud, but your moans are much louder.

He curses and bites down on his bottom lip, falling in love with the way your pussy hugs him tightly and the velvet feeling of your walls. No, no, no, he is not falling in love. He’s just desperate, that’s all. It takes you both a few seconds to adjust, and the painful stretch dulls down to immense pleasure. You struggle to control your breathing, though, because you’ve never taken anyone or anything as big and him. Months of wanting and needing him have finally come down to this, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He hopes you can feel it because nobody can heal it but you. Every single day he thinks about you, and his heart hurts. His heart hurts when he watches you leave and come home, it hurts when you both fight, and it hurts when he believes you could never love him. His mind still tells him that, and yet here you are, riding his cock on your birthday. He notices the way your bottom lip wobbles a bit, and he pities you.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, you’re doing so good. Ride my cock, birthday girl, I know you can do it,” Bucky praises with the most innocent smile ever. You nod your head and slowly begin to rock your hips, moving them up and down his cock. Bucky is torn; he doesn’t know whether he should stare at your pretty face or at where you’re both connected. Your slick coats his cock and leaves it glistening, and he watches as it disappears and reappears over and over.

His hand returns back onto your hips, and he gently guides you up and down his cock. Your pained whimpers soon turn to loud, slutty, desperate moans, and Bucky begins to fuck up into your cunt, meeting you at every thrust. “Fuck, yeah, that’s my good girl. Riding my cock so fucking good,” Bucky coos, and you can’t help but giggle. Warmth fills your chest, and pleasure blooms immensely in your core, and it’s the exact same for Bucky.

His balls slap against your ass, and his cock drives in and out of you. You ride him at a quicker pace, moaning loudly, and he nudges against your sweet spot. “You look so fucking sexy riding my cock, baby. Could watch you forever an’ ever,” Bucky purrs, gripping your hips even tighter. Electricity crackles up your spine, almost like a burning wire in a destroyed fuse box. Everything is so sensitive, and the searing pleasure builds up inside the two of you.

Beads of sweat drip down your neck, and it is the same for Bucky. His skin shines just like his cock does, and the veins on the side of it throb with every movement. The wet noises and the sound of skin on skin fills the room almost impressively. The neighbours would’ve already filed noise complaints if they still lived here, but they don’t. So Bucky’ll fuck your brains out until you can’t make a sound.

“Fuck, you’re close, aren’t you? Can feel the way that nice little cunt is squeezin’ my cock,” he groans, staring up at you with his jaw slightly slacked. Your eyes have glazed over, and you stare at Bucky’s face. You ride him using his dick for all your needs and wants. It’s just like you’ve imagined, even down to the pleasure you’re feeling. “Mhm, gonna come all over your big cock,” you whimper at a specific thrust.

And he’s close too. Though the serum should make him last longer, your pussy just defies those rules. He fucks into you faster and rougher, and your legs have turned to jelly. You collapse onto his chest and let him pound your pussy into oblivion. Bucky’s chest rumbles with a chain of moan and curses, and you look up at him. His metal arm is icy cold, just like his eyes. But his orbs are darker than regular ice. They resemble black ice more than anything.

The elastic band in your stomach twists up tightly until it can’t do anything but snap. And so it does. The dam breaks, and you’re suddenly coming around Bucky’s cock. Your cum coats his cock and drips down his balls as your body seizes up. Your jaw falls open, and your eyes roll back while you moan loudly. “Fuck, you look so pretty when you come,” Bucky breathes, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck.

You cry out loudly as Bucky sloppily fucks you through your orgasm and chases his own. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, knock you up with my kids. Fuck, you’d look so hot with a bump, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of your body,” he moans deeply, feeling his balls tighten up. He tosses his head back and curses, hitting his release. Ropes of cum shoot inside your cunt, painting your walls and even leaking out a bit. Somewhere, deep down inside Bucky, he truly hopes it sticks.

He moans loudly as his hips give a few shallow thrusts, prolonging his orgasm. You both sigh, slick with sweat and other bodily fluids that neither of you cares about. “Happy birthday…” Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss on the side of your head. “T- Thank you… How’d you know, though?” you question, even though his cock is still inside you. “Just did… Listen, I’m sorry–” he starts, but you cut him off. “Shh, I don’t care about anything but you, baby,” you tell him, whispering gently.

“Baby, but you.”

[fluffyprettykitty]

Domesticity

Pairing: Frank Castle x reader (no other specifications or gender)

Word Count: 600 words

Outline: Weekly grocery run and dinner with your man.

Warnings: Domestic fluff.

Author’s Note: Day two of the over 200 words daily prompts for February. Today's prompt is 'established relationship'.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics​

🌟 Please, like or reblog and comment, all feedback is appreciated and warmly encouraged and allows me to know what people are interested in reading!🌟

Main Masterlist ・❥・Frank Castle Masterlist

Phone, wallet, car keys, house keys. You tap the pockets of your coat when you feel your tall sturdy man coming behind you wrapping his arms around your waist. Frank presses a soft kiss against your cheek.

"I'm coming with you, today. I'll drive you around, baby, come on."

With a big grin, you melt into his touch and agree to his plans with a quick yes, taking the car keys out of your pockets and handing them to him.

"Alright, Frankie boy but I get to choose what's for dinner."

"Sounds like a plan, darlin'. "

His voice is smooth like butter and there's a certain warmth that surrounds his words. His mere presence makes you feel safe and cared for. Quickly, you grab your bag and together you leave your shared apartment, making sure you lock your door.

The keychain has a tiny doll on it, one of Frank's many little gifts to you. He was the type of person to bring over a small memento whenever he had to leave for more than one day.

Together you take the elevator. One of your favorite things to do was to spend a couple of minutes admiring the sight of the two of you reflected on the elevator mirror. Evidently, you looked good together and that made your heart flatter each time.

Always a chivalrous gentleman, he opens the car door for you before getting in himself. His driving is calm and collected, never raising his voice at other drivers and he never honks.

One short car ride later, you were at the supermarket, him carrying the cart, you on his side with your arm wrapped around his as you shopped for your weekly groceries.

A short time later, when the cart is full, you head for the registers. You didn't have to argue about who pays for what. It was a rule in your relationship that each week one of you two paid. No arguments, no problems.

He gives you a look, you give him a smirk as you pull the reusable bags from your bag and hand them to him. Oh, you worked so well and in sync. Is his turn to pay and then he is carrying the bags back to the car, this time around you're driving the pair of you back home.

Frank was kind and loving like any good man should be. Must have done something very right in this life to deserve a man like him or maybe it was happenstance.

You met him out of pure luck, one night while you were bent over, frustratedly picking up your items from the ground when your bag randomly decided to break. He helped you and calmed you down.

Back home, groceries put in their respective places, and a roasted dinner later, he sets the table while you are looking at him, stupid smile on your face. Oh, you had done something right in your life, alright. Once out of your reverie, you place the plates on the table while he is choosing the wine.

"Cabernet Sauvignon for tonight."

He twirls the bottle between his calloused fingers as he reads the label and then throws it in the air catching it a moment later.

Frank cracks the cork of the bottle open and now is his turn to take a long look at you. His small smile signals how happy he is right here right now. It's true that you could spend the rest of the evening staring at each other like that.

How wonderful to spend quiet time like this together...

[chaibewriting]

BEG FOR IT! ft. pro-hero! ken takagi (rock lock) x afab! fem! pro-hero! poc reader

-> NOTES: do be warned that i have no idea how to write for rock lock since there’s not much about his personality so bare with me on this, i hope you enjoy it anyways. this was requested an interesting lil’ human, i hope this is all that you imagined it to be.

-> WARNINGS: public nudity, public sex, chastity belt (m. wearing).

EVERYTHING was perfect. You’d made sure of it. You’d laid everything out on your shared bedroom and were just waiting for your husband’s arrival. To put it simply, this was your form of punishing him for having missed your wedding anniversary, however, he wasn’t aware that he was going to be punished yet. Just the thought of having things go your way made you all the more giddy, you were even more excited when you heard the front door knob jiggle and shake, indicating that the soon-to-be tortured man was finally home.

You sat pretty atop your bed, one leg crossed over the other, waiting for Ken to enter the bedroom, and when he did, he stood in the doorway, looking over you with a raised eyebrow. You were still wearing your hero costume, and as much as he loved seeing the way it fit on you, he was a little confused about why you hadn’t changed. His eyes then drifted towards the strange big black box that sat on the bed beside you. He was the type to jump to conclusions with how observant and quick he was but he had no idea what was going on inside of your head at the moment.

And so, you spoke first. “Welcome home, baby. How was your patrol?” You asked, though you could already tell that he was feeling a bit of the stress from work. “… It was alright. You gonna tell me what this is about, keychain?” He asked, the petname leaving his lips like the millions of other times he’s said it and it almost, yes, almost made you rethink your punishment for him. However, you still held strong, wanting to exact your own version of revenge on him, and you would get it no matter what.

“I know you don’t like to beat around the bush or sugarcoat things so—“ You grabbed the box beside you and dropped it on your lap, sliding the top off and tossing it behind you so that it landed on the bed with a light bounce. Inside of it, placed elegantly atop a white silk fabric, was a cock cage other known as a chastity belt, big enough to fit his well-endowed third leg. Afterwards, you began your brief explanation. “You missed our anniversary, my love, and that means— you’ve got to earn the right to release or stay locked for as long as I want. It’s a fitting punishment, don’t you think?”

And before you could get a verbal answer from him, you had already activated your quirk, zooming around him within the small confines of your room. In no time at all, you had stripped him completely and put the chastity belt on his soft cock in a matter of milliseconds, locking it in place. Oh the irony. You then sat back where you were, resuming the position you’d been in, this time with a key ring around your finger that had the key to the belt dangling from it.

Since your quirk allowed you to move at the speed of light so long as you were exposed to a source of light (even as small as a flame), he was unable to keep up with your movements (just like most villains and heroes), which, in turn, left him defenseless to your punishment for the time being. “Doll, is this really necessary you coulda just made me sleep on the couch or somethin’. This seems pretty damn excessive.” He complained, and he had every right to, especially with the way the cage was squeezing around him. The cold metal on his shaft was sending him into the tiniest bit of a frenzy, and it was a borderline death sentence if he managed to get hard while wearing this stupid ass contraction. He could stop things in place, hell, he could stop you from moving if he touched your clothes in the right places, but you were too fast for him to do such a thing, maybe if he caught you off-guard—

“Listen, I booked a hotel that’s within walking distance from here. Meet me on the roof of Koji Hotel, and if I see fit, I’ll let you out. But if you come on your way there, or if you get caught— which I know you won’t, you’ll have to stay locked in. And oh don’t even think of chickening out, I know you can’t ignore a challenge, and the idea excites you… Just look at your dick, I can see it twitch all the way from here. Ah, and one more thing— no clothes allowed, personally I’d say seeing you like this is quite a treat. Others should be able to experience what I’m experiencing too.~” You mused, your eyes glued on his gloriously caged, veiny cock that was just begging for attention. You licked your lips and then mentally slapped yourself. No! Not yet, Y/N! Calm the fuck down.

After your little speech, Ken looked over you, taking note of the way you were eyeing his nude body while licking your lips. Huh. You seemed even more excited about this then he (secretly) was. Though, of course, he had to at least act like the voice of reason, even in all his shame. “Seriously? I could get arrested for public indecency. Do you /want/ me to go to jail?” You smiled cheekily at him and then daringly shot forward, pecking him on the lips before moving back out of his reach again, this time going towards your bedroom window.

“Oh, my love, I already know you won’t get caught, you’re quite a resourceful man, that’s one of the things I love about you.~ You’ve got fifteen minutes to get to me.” You dangled the key for him to see and then slipped it onto one of the pockets on your hero costume. “Show me how well your hero training’s been working for you, this challenge should be a piece of cake for you, hm?~ I’ll make it all worth it if you do /exactly/ as I say… See ya!” You then opened the window and jumped out, using your quirk to speedily and easily run up walls and make your way to the hotel roof nearby.

The pro hero stood there, he was usually quite quick on his feet, but at the moment he was still stunned about what had just unfolded. You sneaky little— He couldn’t help but smirk. You really were something, weren’t you? Were you really expecting him to actually go through with this?

…

Why the fuck was he doing this? Why, god, why? Maybe some part of him buried deep, deep down within the pits of his soul was turned on by the sense of danger and the chance that he could be caught. Maybe he got off on he thought of someone besides you seeing him like this. His muscular torso, lightly littered in hair that matched the curl pattern on top of his head, along with an array of scars on his body, and his toned legs… not to mention his soft eight inch dick that seemed to swing with each step, the metal hitting against his leg which reminded him just how /caged/ in he truly was. He was currently ducked into an alley, hiding behind a dumpster. Fuck, was he INSANE?! He was starting to think he was.

Alright, he could do this. No clothes were allowed, but you didn’t mention anything else, maybe he could find something useful around here. And to his luck, his eyes landed on a pair of trash cans with metal tops, perfect for covering the front and the back. He had already gotten a little closer to the hotel, all he needed to do was sneak around a tad bit, use his quirk, and propel himself up onto the roof where you would no doubt be waiting for him—

“Hey mommy, what’s that guy doing behind the dumpster over there?” “Oh good lord— don’t look, Okuyasu! C’mon!”

Ah fuck. He needed to move, and move quick before he ended up getting caught up and he did not want to explain any of his freaky, personal shit to the media. With determination and a new spark of motivation, he hurried his way over to the trash cans, snatched the lids from their place, used them to cover his body. He then glanced around at his surroundings yet again, taking note that the street was a little less busy with civilians but nonetheless still had a good handful of people roaming around. And it was getting a tad bit on the darker side thanks to the sun being nearly set completely so he’d use this to his advantage, thank gods he still had his shoes on. He got into position and ran, if someone didn’t know any better, they would have thought he had some kind of speed enhancing quirk with how fast he ran, the sound of metal clacking around covering the sound of his heavy footsteps. He had to stop himself from audibly groaning with the way the cage was moving around on his cock, he’d already ended up semi-hard /somehow/, he’d be an idiot if he ended up with a hard-on while wearing this thing. He needed to get it off, and get off, you were in for a punishment of your own.

By the skin of his teeth, he’d just barely made it to the other alleyway across the street— which was exactly where he needed to be. He could only hope no one was watching him now as he used his quirk to start climbing upwards into the air with the use of the trash can lids, suspending and unfreezing the lids in the air in place as he traveled upwards until he could jump onto the roof. From there, he was able to properly roof dash, seeing where you were from a distance.

You watched him from where you stood, an eager grin on your face as you watched him carefully maneuver his way around until he landed on the roof top where you were. You’d made sure to get him some clothes before making your departure, figuring you’d be at least a little considerate of his circumstances.

As he approached you, he stood directly in front of you. He was glaring at you like he didn’t like the exhilarating rush of running around naked for anyone and everyone to see. “Ah, look at that, you made it.~ Did you cum without me?” You asked, watching as he tossed the trash lids aside, ignoring the crashing sound that came from them connecting with the concrete roof top. He completely ignored your question and spoke up. “You woulda liked that, wouldn’t ya have? Hurry up and unlock it. I’m startin’ to chafe.” You grinned at him, as devious as ever. “Beg for it.” You could have sworn you saw his eye twitch at that and you had to stop yourself from bursting into laughter.

While you were too busy trying to keep your sides from splitting, your oh-so-lovely husband snuck up on you and touched your leg, arm, and chest, effectively deadlocking the most mobile parts of your hero suit. In doing this, he effectively had you frozen in place, a smirk appearing on his face as he looked at your bewildered expression. Of course, you could have phased through your clothing with ease, but that would have left you naked as well… Wait— was that his plan???

“You sneaky man. Are you really that eager to cum? C’mon baby, all you had to do was ask me politely and I would have done it for you easily. I was even gonna suck your dick right here on the rooftop.” You pouted, watching as he began to pat you down, attempting to find where you had put the key to the chastity belt. You playfully moaned when he gave your thighs a few firm squeezes, huffing after hearing the soft jingle of metal. Ah, man, he found the key. As much as you wanted to unlock it for him, you were deadlocked in place so you really had no way out of this situation without falling for his trap or begging him to let you out. Oh how the turns table.

You soon heard the sound of metal hitting the ground beneath you, eyeing the man who stood in front of you now completely naked, aside from his shoes. At that point you thought it was time to say something, anything really. As you watched him take the bag from your hand, moving his hand around inside of it, a grin spread out across your face when he pulled out a cropped shirt and a single sock. Ken looked absolutely flabbergasted. You couldn’t contain the laughter that soon followed. God, you really were an evil thing.

“Oh. You think this is funny, huh?” He questioned, squinting at you and your predicament. It seemed like the two of you were now on equal playing field, but you couldn’t help but to continue grinning rather sinisterly. Your laughter continued for a few more seconds before you finally answered him. “Oh honey, you know me, I love playing games, and wasn’t this such a good de-stresser? I’m a genius, I know. Now… can you release my suit?” Ken stared at you intently for a moment, observing your expression before a grin of his own slowly broke across his face. “Beg for it.”

[emperorwriter]

Warning: Adult theme, Kinks, BDMS, Sub Mikey, and Dom male Reader. If you’re under age please MDI for everybody sake. All characters are aged up consider I’m using the Bonten Version.

You sighed fuddling with your penthouse keys late at night barely able to keep straight. Thinking about the harsh day that you had with the second in command. Bastard was a complete dumb ass. “Fucking psycho!” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at your pent house key before losing it into the mass of random keys again. “Who the fuck goes popping off their gun in the middle of a neighborhood?” Who you might wonder just so happened to has been Haru. Continuing cursing the pink haired man with all the foul words in the dictionary as you dropped your keys to the ground.

Standing there for a minute glaring at your keychain as if you were have a staring contest. A small click of your teeth. “Mother! Fucker!” You yelled. Slamming your head on your penthouse door over and over again instead of grabbing them. Sure if you were sober you would have grabbed them, however you drunk and decided in that cursing at them was a better idea. So. there you were banging your head on your door with the key not even that far away. And if you had just put in the effort than you would have gotten them, but drunk you felt that was to much work to be done.

The door swung open not that you had even noticed until your hair felt a warm sensation on it. "What are you doing?" A voiced asked. Looking up to see none other than the leader Mikey watching you with his black eyes. Sluggishly hugging his waist. "Disowning my keys that has left me." Mikey looked at the keys innocently sitting next to your knelling form. "Your keys are right there." Mikey reminded, looking between his lover and his keys. You sighed, "Okay? End? That's to damn far for me right now." Mikey also sighed before picking up his taller lover and dragging you inside the living room. You were two heads taller than Mikey and that was something he loved and hated with a burning passion.

Like a big teddy bear. "You're fucking heavy." Mikey scoffed, which only caused you to chuckle in response. Mikey threw you on the couch as a retaliation... No really. Like he threw you like a rag doll onto the couch knocking the air out of you. Disappearing into the darkness coming back just as soon as you called. "What is it? You're drunk, annoying, smell, and annoying." He folded his arm across his chest. Abruptly you shot up from the couch, picked Mikey up bridal style, and ran to the room as fast as your heavy legs could carry you. Mikey tried to ask "What are yoU-" being thrown on the bed caused him to pause in shock. Forcefully being pulled by his ankles closer to the edge of the bed his pants coming with him. Lips hungrily crushed his while filling his mouth your tongue. Mikey had felt strange with this new feeling of being dominated by his lover. And he wasn't sure if he loved it or hated hit maybe both judging by his reaction.

His hand behind your head pulling you closer as if you were going to leave him, but that wasn't the case as he would soon find out. Your hips rocked into his to catch that sweet release of friction. Pulling away from the kiss dry humping Mikey into the mattress. Eyes rolling into the back of your head with each sensitive brush you got cause you to miss Mikey's sexy lewd face. "I want you Mikey," You moaned. "I want to be inside of you... So... So fucking bad." Sounds of deep heavy breath and creaking of the bed mixed filling the was quite room. Mikey's nails digging deep into your skin scratching you even through you still had your shirt on. Suddenly you stopped eyes widen.

Mikey pale cheeks dusted with a bright red, eyes filled with lust, legs wide open, shirt pulled up reveling his hard nipples, and his tongue hanging out his mouth. "Why did you stop?" He pouted. "Say that again." Mikey now looked confused. "Say what?"

"That thing you just said."

"I love you?"

"No, the other thing."

Mikey thought for a minute before blushing. "No."

Oh he didn't want to repeat himself don't worry you knew what to do starting with tearing his boxers off leaving only his shirt. Flipping him on his stomach with his ass in the air with his legs spread pulling his arm under him through his open legs. Using your belt to tie one arm to the same leg and your neck tie to tie the other arm and leg. Despite being night the moon gave just enough light to see his full glory. You chuckled, "Since you don't want to repeat yourself I'll just have to make you understand." Mikey face planted into the bed sheets could feel the warm breath on his neck. “I’ll be back.” You hummed, licking his tattoo. Letting out a small whimper at the lost of your body warmth. The now quite room being filled with the faint sound of clothes being discarded and a top being opened.

Mikey could feel the intense stare of your eyes staring at his ass which made him feel weak but also so turned on. Never in your life had you ever taken control or manhandled him making him feel less than dominate. Mikey was quickly brought back to reality by a cold liquid being poured onto his ass hole. Both hand gripping his surprisingly soft ass for better access by spreading them. One hand thumbing the liquid into his hole. Mikey moaned shaking his ass trying to resist falling into the ribbit hole. "Alright that's enough playing around with my ass." He shouted. "If you wanna fuck I can fuck you real good" He tried to sound commanding, however it felt like he didn't mean what he said. Tightly gripping his ass even more to hold him into place while your finger slipped inside. Mikey jolted forward with a loud whine.

The warmth had caught you off guard. Only the tip of your finger was inside, yet for some odd reason Mikey was unusually quite. The feeling of him sucking your finger inside now turned you on even more if that was even possible. New Achievement unlocked: Fingering Mikey. Pushing your finger deep inside to get a reaction out of him now that he wouldn't make a sound. "Hey, say something. It's not fun if you're acting quite all of a sudden." You mocked, "What? cat got your tongue." Adding in another finger got him to gasp at this new feeling. "Oh yeah there you go making sounds I love. I love your moans my pretty boy." You laughed. Mikey's hips now sync with your finger thrusts trying to catch his own high. Licking your lips using your free hand to rub your now hard cock stopping every now and then to rub the tip with your thumb. Precum spilling from the base into your hands creating a natural lubrication.

"Please... Put it inside." Mikey panted.

That was all the confirmation you needed before you placed you dick tip at the entrance of his ass. Inch by inch slipping into that that juicy ass. The bed now creaking louder and louder the faster you went. However, the bed wasn't the only thing being loud cause Mikey was a moaning mess. Yes, feed into your ego by being louder "My pretty boy!" You groaned, "Be even fucking louder so that they know you belong to me." Hitting that sweet spot even when you found it really set Mikey off "Hit it harder Daddy!" Man didn't need to tell you twice before he got his wish and what he asked for. If Mikey hadn't be in the middle of the bed he head would have been hitting the bedframe that's how hard he was getting it.

Pulling out so that you could cum on that nice pretty boy ass.

"Alright have you had your fun?" Mikey questioned.

Your only answer was to put it back in.

"Of course not. I'm going to fuck you until I get you pregnant." You answered, thrusting you hips again.

"But... I'm... A... Man..." He barely breathed out.

"I said what I fucking said."

Work of Emperor Writer || DILFTOBER

Hope y'all enjoyed it.

[eldritch-spouse]

Thinking of the Krulu offerings posts, what sort of gifts would the others like? Would they want expensive trinkets; elegant hand-crafted items; or are they just going to melt at the implication that you were even thinking of them? (cough)patches(cough)

What gifts they like

Breg enjoys anything informative the most. Although it takes him a little while to read, the monster enjoys books too. Movies, romance book and very cliché romantic trinkets will do. But then again, he'll take anything you give him and get emotional, you could toss a pebble at the breeder, he'll squeal with joy.

Well, aside from booze, Fasma has a collection of keychains going on. The monster man may be tiny, but he has a fondness for shinny things. Do you have ridiculously expensive custom lighters? He also collects those.

Don't cook for Morell, he appreciates the effort but he's not going to be able to see it past his criticism. Instead, give him kitchen utensils, wacky stuff, funny aprons, that type of thing.

Vinnel likes clown-themed stuff. He has a small collection of ugly clown dolls somewhere. In general, anything clowncore or ugly is greatly appreciated. Has a small fondness for crooked toys as well, don't ask why. You can also give him bells, he needs those.

Gallon has peculiar tastes, you'll never quite know what he'll like. It either has to be really amusing or small and elegant. Like a glass paperweight with something glowing inside. He's a minimalist when it comes to decorations.

Santi loves gold, although that's understandably expensive. He insists people don't give him anything since his tastes are pricey, but jewelry is the fastest way to the incubus' heart. Or pants. Anything that flashes mostly. Either that or shitpost shirts, the "art thou nasty" kind.

Grimbly likes just about anything. He craves stuff. All the things. Give him more. If you see something cute that you think will fit him, he'll be very happy you got it for him. That being said, he has an endless Amazon wishlist so, don't bite off more than your poor wallet can chew just because he gives you puppy eyes.

Patches honestly doesn't even believe you'd give him anything. He's secretly a metalhead, and also a bit of a manic horse girl, so you're better off giving him hot topic trash or like, horse-themed stuff. Give him a metal horse shirt and this dullahan will take the knee right then and there. You're the one.

Nebul is another one whose tastes aren't too clear. As a monster who has lived for a longer while, he appreciates things that can still shock him. Bizarre stuff, thingamajigs with no real purpose- Something that screams and weilds knives, show him stupid stuff. Alternatively, he "eats" precious pearls. And by eats I mean he just shoves them in the mist of his head and dissolves them. Why? It apparently feels good.

I think we've discussed at length what Krulu wants by now, but he's by far the most demanding one. Remember to keep sentiments in mind when you offer them things. A statuette that reeks of boredom or spite is offensive to him.

Fank-e, bless his robot heart, wants just about the most cringe-inducing items you can get a hold of. Invader Zim t-shirts, neon bracelets, things so colorful it'll make most people's eyes vomit. Big fan of stickers, get him as many as you can, or glue them to his frame, he covers the broken part of his visor with them too.

Ludwig just wants food man. He's a hungry boy and he eats trash all the time, so give him a nice meal for once. He's not too attached to material possessions, even if his demon instincts tell him to hoard stuff at times, he mostly doesn't care that much. Ironic gifts always get a laugh out of him, such as glasses, which do nothing since his eyes are always closed.

[infernalrevenge]

Okay, so this is a spur of the moment sort of idea, but is it possible to have a headcanon of the four lords with a s/o who has terrible memory loss. And I don't mean forgetful, think more along the lines of Fifty first dates, like she greets one of the lords and they get talking, lords end up coming back cuz they liked their positive attitude, but when they come to visit again, s/o greets them like they've never met. Does that make sense?

Yeah I think I get what you're saying, though I never really watched the full movie HAHAHA I've only seen half of it but I know how it goes down. Hopefully, whatever I've come up with satisfies your idea :P

To stay true to the idea, reader here has anterograde amnesia -- characterized by not being able to retain short-term memories. They're aware of their own condition.

----------

Alcina Dimitrescu

Understandably, she'd be confused, caught off guard that you didn't remember the time you spent with her.

Honestly she might be so confused that she'll forget to be offended -- not that it would have ever occurred to her that she was bad company in the first place. You were so pleasant to be with too, so... what went wrong?

When you explain it all to her, you might actually be surprised at how quickly she gets it. Definitely isn't the strangest thing she's ever heard of. She knows too what it's like to be around someone with terrible memory -- her patience with Moreau is astounding and one she doesn't extend to just anyone.

(But you aren't "just anyone" to her. You were a warm presence, a ray of sunshine in that time you spent together, however short. She wanted to get to know you better, and if that meant putting much more effort into maintaining that connection with you, then it's nothing she can't do.)

She'll creep her way into your mind (and heart) through song. She'll invite you to the castle and teach you serenades and classical pieces, you sing while she plays the piano. It doesn't matter to her if you sing off-key or add your own silly lyrics -- if she's being honest, sometimes she even prefers your versions.

Every now and then, you do forget the notes and the words, but Alcina doesn't have a problem with going over them again if you hear a "new tune" you found interesting. It's a good thing too that she loves music so much.

One day, she might even catch you humming them while you sit with her in a comfortable silence. You may not be sure exactly how you know the song, but you're glad you're able to make the Lady smile by doing so. Maybe you'll try to learn the words next time.

Donna Beneviento

...was she really so unpleasant that you already forgot about her and the day you spent together?

She'll be so embarrassed if you don't remember who she is, thinking that the other day was a mistake and that she was just imagining the connection you two had. Not to be dramatic but she'll definitely run away in tears.

The best way to remedy the situation is to go after her right away and try to explain the situation. She might not even believe you at first, her anxiety initially convincing her that you made all this up as a way of rejecting her, or that this was all a mean prank. But if you're patient enough, she might come to understand it.

In the process of becoming part of your life, she'll definitely make something that will eventually remind you of her, or someone like her. She just wants something that would stick with you, ideally something tangible.

One day she'd gift you with a doll in your likeness, complete with its own clothes and accessories. She might even include a very small doll in Angie's likeness to go with it, to serve as that reminder.

Once you do get close enough, she says that she would rather have you call her "Donna" than by her formal title. Though this frequently slips your mind, it's no trouble at all for her to remind you. Besides, it's quite cute to see you say her name like you're trying it out for the first time, even if it may have been the eleventh. She loves the way you say her name.

And when it finally sticks to you after enough repetition and you greet her like that without prompting? Her heart just flutters.

Salvatore Moreau

Moreau has always known that he has terrible memory, but after meeting you? He's starting to doubt exactly how bad he could really have it.

As a former doctor, he might recognize the diagnosis you give him after explaining it and he goes "Oh.... Oh!"

He'll be so relieved it's not because you wanted to let him down gently by feigning forgetting the memory of what was literally yesterday (but also he'd understand if you did, he almost threw up on you in excitement. Come to think of it, maybe it was best you didn't remember that part.)

Still, he'd be determined to spend a lot of time with you and become a part of your working memory somehow. Though he knows there's no cure for such an affliction, he'll want to make an effort to include some aspect of himself into your routine.

He'll write you little notes and letters, about how wonderful you are and how you make him feel whenever you two are together. He'll give you a journal so you can write about all the cool things you want to remember later on (and part of him hopes you write about him too.)

(And of course you write about him, who would ever want to forget about the sweet doctor fish man who just wants to be loved and a part of your world.)

One day, he catches a glimpse of one such diary entry -- and he only knew that because he saw the cute little doodle you made of him, along with a small heart next to it. He swears he never meant to pry, but he thinks about it for days and days. He's never been happier.

Karl Heisenberg

Oh he'll be mad at first, for sure. He's likely the type to express first and ask questions later when it comes to these matters, but the anger is more out of confusion than genuine offense.

If you try to explain it, he may just think you're lying at first. "If you wanted me to leave you alone, you could just say so," he'd say. But at the same time, there'd be such a sincerity in your voice that it would be hard for him to keep denying it. Fine... maybe you're not pulling his leg then.

You can't tell me that this man doesn't make trinkets in his spare time. He can be a big mean metal worker all he wants but I can also picture him having made a keychain or two in his life. Maybe even a necklace. They're not perfect or polished by any means, but he just likes making little things with scraps left over from bigger projects.

That said, he'll give you some without much of a second thought. He probably ask you first if you want to keep any the first time you stumble upon his messy workstation at the factory. They looked pretty neat, so you took some of them home.

You might find yourself fidgeting with the moving parts of it, trying to rack your head and remember exactly where you got them and how. Was it on a trip? Did you get these as souvenirs? Why did one of them look like an electric fan with legs?

Sometimes you'll show him all this stuff and talk about how cool they looked. Your favorite might be the one that looks like a hammer, but the fan with legs was a close second. You tell him to be careful of the sharper parts though (wouldn't want him to get tetanus.)

He may or may not get a little embarrassed as you gush about your "new" trinkets. You might offer to give some to him that he likes but he insists you keep them, especially since you like them so much.

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

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Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor. 

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her. 

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.