#of mice & men imagine

[anetherealpoetess]

adar going from calling elrond beautiful to picking him up on the battlefield and tossing him aside like he's nothing while whispering some snarky shit in that soft masculine melodious voice... dadar ...

[fangirl94stuff]

Alan Ashby (OM&M)

I can't wait for this shift to be over, I swear tonight has been too quiet and we hate the q word.'

'Now you've jinxed us, Sarah,' you hiss, looking up from your phone with a wicked glare, which made your friend and colleague pout.

'Here it comes,' Jen groans, and points at the board above the nurse's station, which had suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.

You pocket your phone and get up, only a couple of hours left in your shift, 'let's get to work boys and girls, people ain't going to fix themselves.'

Tonight you were second in command which meant you could assign nurses and doctors in the A&E. You begin dishing out bed numbers, making sure to keep the simple broken arm in bed 3 all to yourself.

'Okay Mr Ashby, I'm y/n and it says here you have a broken arm,' you call out, before entering the cubicle area with a smile. You might be tired but you loved your job.

On the bed in front of you sits a guy with ginger hair with his left arm across his chest in a makeshift sling, 'err hi, this is really painful.'

'How did it happen?' you ask, and stand next to him slowly taking off the sling.

He bows his head, 'err it's kind of embarrassing y/n, you can also call me Alan.'

Why did that name sound so familiar to you?

'Doctor-patient confidentiality Alan, this stays in A&E between us.'

Alan sighs, 'my band was performing, I got excited, and the audience wanted me to stage dive so I did, they caught me but then dropped me because they were drunk. But I managed to get back on stage and finish the set.'

You hum as you jot down notes, 'I know you don't need me to tell you that was kind of stupid Alan, but let's get this arm an x-ray and put it in a cast.'

You grab a passing nurse and put in an x-ray request before turning back to Alan, 'how many dates do you have left?'

Alan pouts, 'two, but I guess my tech can fill in.'

'What's the name of your band?' you ask, wanting to fill the time.

Alam perks up, 'we're called Of Mice And Men, have you heard of us?'

That's why his name sounded familiar, you snap your fingers, 'I use to listen to you guys all the time. I thought you looked familiar, a little different from the Warped Tour days.'

Alan laughs, 'those were different times. How long have you worked here?'

You put your clipboard down, 'at this hospital for three years, I love my job just like you do, but you'll never find me stage diving.'

Alan shakes his head, 'we're in town for a couple of days before the next show. You seem cool y/n. Would you and your boyfriend like to meet the band?'

You quirk an eyebrow, 'I don't have a boyfriend, bit random there Alan, did a nurse give you meds?'

The ginger smirks, 'how would you like to get coffee with me then?'

Realisation dawns on you what was happening and you can't help but laugh, 'smooth Alan, and I get off in a couple of hours.'

Alan grins, 'good because I need a nurse to keep an eye on me in case I do anything else stupid.'

You stop laughing, 'well good thing I can keep an eye on you. Now have you got any more embarrassing or funny tour stories to tell?'

Alan nods and sits back carefully on the bed trying not to move his arm, 'this one time two years--'

You stay with Alan through the x-ray and help get his cast on, which you promise to sign with your number if the coffee went well.

[roseofhybrids]

"Just look at the baby cows Uz- No, I know there's not any but just like, imagine that there's- ignore the gun, don't worry about the gun just imagine baby cows-"

Completely hypothetically

[after-witch]

To a Mouse [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: To a Mouse [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: The best laid escape plans of mice and men often go awry. 

Word Count: 2200ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, abusive behavior, drugging

You’ve been planning. Bad, bad thing that you are--not that Overhaul knows about the planning. Not that he knows you call him Overhaul, in your head, all the while “Kai” bubbles from your lips like sweet candy.

Not that he knows that while you obey and nod and pretend to go along with it, you’re screaming, plotting, fervently dreaming about the day that you’ll get away from him.

That day is today, in fact.

All thanks to two things: your penchant for drawing, and his penchant for closing his eyes while you change into your nightgowns.

The drawing is what earned you the box of pencils. They’re nice pencils, middle-of-the-road when it comes to quality. Better than the cheap pencils schoolchildren get, but a seasoned artist might not work with them. You, though, are no seasoned artist. You’re simply a kidnapping victim who liked to draw in their spare time before all this, and after weeks of behaving, he let you have a box of pencils and paper to keep in your room when he wasn’t there.

Because you were good. Because he trusted you.

His mistake.

That pencil is sharpened now, razor sharp or something close to it; it won’t kill him, you’re not that naive. But you’re sure that you can jab it into his flesh enough to hurt, enough to send him to his knees long enough for you to rush into his office and get one of the knives he keeps in his desk. And that’s what will kill him. That’s what will secure his death--and your freedom.

It’s his mistake, too, that he gives you a hint of privacy now and then. When you get dressed, especially. In the morning, when you change; in the evening, when you shower, then again when you change into your nightgown.

The pencil would be useless, without that hint of privacy. Because it had given you the opportunity to slip the pencil from your shirt sleeve and, quick as a bird, slide it underneath the comforter before he took you to the bathroom to shower.

And here you were, sitting in bed with a hand tucked under the comforter and holding onto that pencil; skin scrubbed raw and smelling of sterile soap. Clean. Fresh. Ready.

He’s still turned around, and you put an earnest smile into your voice.

“I’m dressed, Kai.” Dressed and ready to never call him Kai again. Dressed and trembling,  fingers tight around the pencil, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

The perfect time comes when he turns around, eyes crinkled in what must be a smile behind his mask, and approaches to tuck your blanket over you. It’s a soft think--pink and sweet, like he wants you to be.

His fingers are smoothing out the blanket, his words forming some sort of soothing goodnight message, when your arm whips around and you stab the pencil straight into his neck.

The pencil makes contact, you think. But it doesn’t plunge into his flesh the way you imagined it would. It scratches--leaving a jagged quickly -reddening gash--and Overhaul falls to one knee, giving you only a second to scamper off the bed and flee through the doorway connecting your room to his office.

He’s not down for the count, you can hear his steps, hear him shouting something--your thoughts are all jumbled and when your trembling hands grip the handle of his desk and yank at the drawer, it doesn’t budge. He locked it, today. Or maybe it was always locked and you were too stupid to realize it.

There’s no time to kill him, no time to attack--you can only run. So you do, socked feet scampering towards the door of his office, hoping it led to some sort of escape route. 

The door doesn’t budge, and you stupidly shove yourself against it, feeling hot, useless tears streaming down your face. Everything happens too fast and too slow all at the same time. It didn’t work, none of it worked, and you’re left pressing your back against the door and watching as an extremely pissed off Kai Chisaki stalks towards you.

You’ve never seen him like this--hives breaking out on his skin, one hand clutching his neck, eyes practically bulging out in anger and betrayal.

A gloved hand reaches down to grip your wrist, yanking you upward with an uncharacteristic force. You were delicate, a doll; an ornament to be cared for and cleaned. Or so he said, with words and actions. Which is why the tight grip, so harsh you wonder if your bones might snap, comes at you like a bucket of ice water.

“There will be consequences.”

The words are spit out, and your mind supplements the image of wispy saliva hitting the inside of his mask, a bitter poison. No sooner than he warns you, he grabs your arm, gloves slipping on your skin as he tightens his grip and yanks you upward.

Instinct tells you what he’s going to do, and your body tries to turn to lead, but there’s no escaping his grip in the moment. He drags you over to his desk and you see the inside of the drawer he pulls open--all manner of syringes and bottles and you already imagine a needle sliding into your skin, turning you to jelly.

It’s not the needle he grabs, but the handcuffs. And that makes your stomach twist worse.

The moment when you’re dragged back into your bedroom and tossed harshly onto your bed blurs over the next few hours. You will remember the feeling of hitting the mattress, the awkward way your arm bent as he held it down and snapped the cuff over your wrist and then over the pole of the bed. You will remember your heart pounding like a rabbit.

But you’re not sure exactly what Overhaul said--or if he said anything at all--or if you did anything but cry. Did you beg him not to hurt you? Did you tell him to fuck off? Did he tell you to go to sleep, or was it an implied command? 

It’s hard to say.

You’re not even sure if the later sound of hot steaming water from his office bathroom, the image of him scrubbing his skin where the pencil scraped it, is real or imagined. 

Sleep does not come for hours and when it does, you have a horrid nightmare of a large, unfathomable monster sitting on your arms, keeping you immobile. 

--

“You’ve lost the right to move without permission.”

There are many things you imagined Overhaul might do to you. You thought he would toss you back into that horrid room with its white walls and stripped toilet; or cut your meal to miniscule rations, to teach you to be grateful. Or make you sit in the damned clinic of his while he tested your blood to find some practical reason for your rebellion.

You didn’t imagine he would cuff your hands behind your back, and keep you on a chain that kept you leashed to the bed. It wasn’t even long enough to walk around the room, not that there was much to do anymore; when you woke up the morning after, your books, papers, pencils, had all been stripped away. 

It was a wonder he didn’t take the shelf with them.

“They will come off,” he says, gesturing with his hand towards the chain and cuffs, “only if I permit it. At meal times.” He pauses. “And bath time.” 

What relief might have come with the thought of being alone in the bath--those sweet moments of privacy--dissipates a few minutes afterward, when he leads you, hands uncuffed and sore, into the bathroom.

Only he doesn’t, as usual, usher you inside and give you privacy to change and wash yourself. He doesn’t even turn around. He simply stares at you, until anxiety forces you to speak, your voice a squeaky whisper.

“Aren’t you going to…” The full sentence doesn’t come. Aren’t you going to leave? Let me get undressed? Look away? 

He only blinks at you. 

“No.” The word is short and clipped and awful in its simplicity.  “You might try something. You’ve lost the right to privacy.”

Heat rises to your cheek and awful bile claws up your throat with it. He can’t--he wouldn’t look; that is one thing he never did, despite all his hovering and controlling. 

He must catch your thoughts, because from behind the mask comes an almost throaty murmur. “I’m not base. I’m only watching to make sure you don’t do something dangerous to yourself or others.” He swallows, his throat bobbing. “Don’t trouble yourself about that.”

Oh, but you do trouble yourself. Your hands shake as you pull off your nightgown, smelling of sweat from last night’s activities, and fold it carefully on the countertop. Shame crawls inside your stomach and you cover yourself as best you can, shifting positions as you step into the tub. 

Your hands reach instinctively to draw the curtain behind you, only to realize that the curtain that you usually pull for your showers is gone. 

“Take a bath,” he says, simply. “Until you’ve earned the curtain back.”

Something low rumbles in your stomach and you know it’s not hunger. Slowly, you lower yourself down into the tub, pulling your knees to your chest to cover as much as possible. Because he’s still just--staring at you.

He stares even as you turn on the water and begin to fill the tub and wash yourself, quickly as can be, with hot water and soap. Showering usually felt good; it was like taking away a layer of invisible grime that built up around him. But with his eyes on you the entire time, it’s like the grime sticks to your skin, no matter how much you scrub. 

The lack of commentary on your nakedness is somehow just as worse than his gaze upon it.

--

Life, such as it was, quickly turns to shit. 

Overhaul keeps you chained to the bed unless he’s in the room. And even then, there are times where he insists you stay cuffed or leashed to the bed like a wayward dog. 

“You can’t be trusted on your own,” is all he says, if you ask him about it. 

He doesn’t look away when you get dressed. When you bathe. Even when you go to the bathroom.

When you protest too much, when you squirm and kick at the chain and pull your hands harshly against the cuffs, he merely threatens to gag you; to tighten the chain; to leave you cuffed when you bathe and eat, which means he’ll be the one doing the scrubbing and the feeding.

You stop fighting, after that. The threat hits your chest hard and you’re forced to accept the new routine.

That’s what it is, after all. A routine. 

You accept it for what it is--life, now. A new reality.

It’s your new reality that you sleep in soft nightgowns with a cold chain around your ankle and a cuff on your wrist. It’s your new reality that Overhaul stands and stares while you bathe, taking in your body and occasionally critiquing your washing technique. 

It’s your new reality that you have no such thing as privacy, no such thing as softness or entertainment or the quiet enjoyment that comes (however unbidden) from reading your books in the afternoon or drawing on a fresh sheet of paper. 

Now, you have only yourself and Overhaul and the basic functions of life. 

--

“You’ve been behaving,” he remarks one day. A simple compliment for the simple act of no longer fighting against the cuffs, no longer tugging at the chain around your ankle. 

It’s true, though. You haven’t fought. Or argued about the new rules. And you haven’t so much as thought about another escape attempt. The last one was so futile, and look where it got you? Chained and stared at, like an animal in a zoo; hardly worth the effort.

But–but, but, but. When you go into the bathroom that morning, the shower curtain is back.

He doesn’t turn around when you change, and it doesn’t bother you because, after all---it’s a start.

And that night--

“The handcuffs will stay off,” he tells you mildly, locking the chain around your ankle, “if you continue to behave.”

You do behave.

The next week, it is the chain that will stay off--if you continue to behave. And you strive to behave, because the thrill of being able to properly toss and turn and curl up in bed is worth it. And it’s not as if misbehaving got you anywhere before, did it? 

And one blissful morning, you wake up to find your books returned. Your papers. And--not pencils, no. Large crayons, the kind you give to children. Still, still, it’s something.

You swear you can see his smile from behind the mask as you marvel at them, thinking of the ways you’ll be able to occupy yourself with the bright, waxy colors. 

“These will remain,” he says, “if you continue to behave.”

And you do--

You do behave.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— happy home day + eijirou kirishima.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — exactly one a year after adopting from the pound, kirishima plans a special surprise for you, his special little puppy hybrid, on their birthday.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, smut, fluff, hybrids, lingerie, collars, creampies, dumbification, possessiveness, pet-names, body-worship, orgasm-denial, dom-sub, unprotected sex, praise!kink, daddy!kink, breeding!kink, afab!reader, puppy hybrid!reader, pro hero + owner!kirishima.

⭑ words — 4.3K.

⭑ notes — hi !!! i wanted to post something so had you guys vote on what you wanted to see next. the winner ended up being kirishima <3! this was a birthday fic commissioned by my baby @eijirhoe ( who has given me permission to post ) and was beta read by the lovely @vagabondings!! i hope you enjoy !! kiss kiss - m.list ✩

“for fucks sake, kirishima, that is not a fuckin’ guard dog.” 

only katsuki bakugou could be this miserable in an adoption centre for adorable hybrids— kittens, bunnies, mice and puppies alike. the redhead gives the employee standing nearby an apologetic mix between a smile and a grimace, the poor thing shaking in their boots at the proximity of the dynamight.

“katsuki, don’t yell. you’ll scare the ‘lil thing,” he pouts, sticking his fingers through the wire bars on the cage— coaxing the little hybrid inside closer. “and i thought you said german shepherds made great guards!” kirishima wiggles his digits again, pursing his lips to make those kissy sounds that are usually used to call to cats and crouches down to the height of the enclosure. 

bakugou smacks him upside the head but takes a stance beside his rioting hero friend before signing dejectedly. “wrong sound idiot, you’re meant to whistle,” the two strong, and surely intimidating men spare a glance at the cowering hybrid as katsuki whistles in an attempt to gain some trust. “and they usually do, but this one looks like they might shit themselves if someone looks at them funny. not a guard dog.”  

“but bakugou—“ 

“i hate to interrupt, mister riot. mister dynamight.” the employee from earlier steps in, steeling her nerves as she gestures to the cage the puppy hybrid is in. “but if this one doesn’t get adopted soon, i’m afraid they’re going to be put down. we don’t have the space for slightly quieter and apprehensive hybrids like them, no one really wants them if they’re not overly friendly or energetic and…if they do it’s usually for the like…” 

“hybrid farms,” bakugou finishes for the kid, his voice thick with disgust. “just shut one of those down the other day. awful fuckin’ places.” 

kirishima pouts again, peering into your cage— noting the gloss in your big pretty eyes and how you shrink in on yourself, tail pinned to the ground without the happy swish to it that other puppy hybrids in the centre have. “so…” he can’t imagine what you’ve been through, what you’ve seen to have ended up here. “if they don’t get adopted today, they’ll be put down? isn’t there any other way? that hardly seems fair.”

“to us it’s a little more humane than ending up at a hybrid farm or those indecent love hotels exclusively for sex with hybrids…” the employee trails off again, nervously fidgeting with their fingers. in the distance, a bell chimes with the notification of more customers— a mother and her child, probably looking to adopt one of the younger, nosier hybrids for their family. “if you’ll excuse me…” 

“i’ll take ‘em!” red riot blurts without even thinking, the employee not having taken two steps away from him and his angry blonde friend who looks at him like he’s gone bat-shit crazy. “this is their only chance, right? i have to do something, they don’t deserve to go out like this.” the blonde closes his mouth, holding his protests thoughtfully. 

he’s right. kirishima is right, his kind soul always is. “ai’ght, fine. but don’t expect me to train that thing, they ain’t nowhere near close t’bein’ a guard dog.” bakugou grunts, folding his arms across his broad chest with a faux look of dismay— not admitting how impressed he is with eijirou. 

eijirou kirishima has a heart of gold, he’s always been like that— putting others before himself because he believes in them. he takes in strays, builds up their strength and their confidence, letting them know that he’ll always be the sturdy figure they can fall back on in times of need. katsuki was one of those strays, an unwanted dog just like you. he’d bared his fangs to the sweet redhead in fear of letting in someone that would hurt him, but as it turns out, becoming friends with someone as selfless as kirishima was just what katsuki needed.

the employee sighs, shoulders sagging with relief as they glance between the two pro heroes. “should i be getting the adoption papers then?”

with an enthusiastic nod, red riot peers back at you with affectionate eyes and a smile you can trust— one that only widens when you bump your head against his fingers over the bars of your pen and let the tips of them just brush your lush puppy dog ears. “yes please,” he says warmly, his gaze never leaving you. “don’t you worry about a thing little one, it’s you and me now, got it?” 

and for the first time in forever, your tail wags happily, and you don’t feel worried at all.

being adopted by eijirou kirishima most probably saved your life. 

he’d been eager to get you out of that shelter, with the promise of a better life written against his lips and lost under his tongue as he babbled about your new home and how excited he was to have a puppy hybrid of his own. a timid, sweet faced and jumpy german-shepherd hybrid nothing like their breed— with big eyes, a set of pointed and twitchy puppy dog ears and a tail that stays pinned to the ground with nervousness. there’s a lot for him to undo, a lot of trust to build up.

kirishima was patient when introducing you to his home that only big time pro hero money could buy— he let you sniff out the place, scenting areas that made you feel safe even having his comforting, large presence right beside you was enough to make your ears perk up and heightened senses go wild. he let you pick out the biggest spare room in the house and had even felt sad for you when you stated that you’d never had your own before. 

“with me, i’ll make sure you have everything you want ‘n more, kay pup? things will never go back to the way they were for you.” the red head swore to you, crossing his heart — that was the first time you’d ever felt love like that. 

the two of you quickly fall into an easy routine; kirishima would leave for work in the mornings after making sure he’d set out the perfect meal a growing pup, like you, would need— using all sorts of kibble that his explosive friend katsuki had recommended. occasionally he’d spoil you with pieces of turkey bacon that he knew you weren’t allowed to have, but what was the harm in spoiling someone who hadn’t experienced luxury before? plus he liked the way your German shepherd tail would wag and your pupils would dilate at the sight of the meaty meal. 

eijirou made sure you had all the toys possible to play with while he was away for work— you didn’t like sitters and nearly chewed out the last one katsuki had recommended for a nervous puppy such as yourself. you didn’t like her scent and how it had gotten all over your owner. you preferred to be alone, surrounded by the pinewood and musky husk the redhead would leave behind. and, by the time he came home from being red riot, you’d be sitting right by the door with big bambi eyes to welcome him home, the little bell on your store-bought collar jingling as you rush to meet kirishima at eight pm sharp each day.

though you’re pampered with treats and pretty things and ear scratches 24/7– kirishima does have you trained by that awful bakugou. you’re by no means a guard dog, despite what your hybrid breed might indicate— but you’re disciplined with house rules and how to sit and act properly. bakugou is mean and he snarls at you from time to time, but the praise and kisses you get from your darling and sweet red haired owner make the training completely worth it. 

nowadays, katsuki doesn’t even question when you scamper onto the couch or perch yourself on eijirou’s lap whenever they have their boys nights to watch the hero rankings live. “pampered fuckin’ pooch,” is all he grunts from over his can of beer. 

“hey,” eijirou will huff, his hands on the fat of your waist or twirling through your fluffy brown and black tail. “don’t be mean, katsuki. they don’t know any better.” 

even with all that house training— you still sneak into his bed when being on your own gets too much. his warmth calms you, and eijirou doesn’t seem to mind the brush of your thick and soft tail against his thighs in the morning. “pup, you’re not s’pposed to be on the bed,” he’d tried to scold you the first time it happened, he really did, but your ears lay flat against your skull and you gave him those eyes and kirishima was quick to dive in next to you— asking you what was wrong. “nightmares huh? of the pound? well, those can’t be very nice. maybe you should share a bed with me tonight. one night won’t hurt, will it?” 

except one night, becomes every single night.

repeatedly, each night, eijirou scoops you up into his flexing, toned arms and carries you to his room instead of your own— tucks you under his weighted duvets not yours, and swamps you with his body heat. he runs like a furnace during the later hours, not that you mind, it’s nice to be close to him. to feel adored like that.

yourself and kirishima are touchier than most hybrid-owner pairs, you’ve noticed. bakugou thinks it’s because you have a clingy-attachment style, the red head because you’ve been deprived of the affection that most pups deserve. he goes beyond headpats and chin scratches, and the ones that itch right behind your floppy fluffy ears. kirishima keeps a hand on the slope of your waist when he takes you for walks on sunny days, he holds your hand instead of your leash most of the time and his lips linger against your forehead a little longer than normal for a hybrid that’s just a housepet. 

you think it’s normal at least, you’ve never been cared for like this and having eijirou’s attention some, if not all, of the time feels like a dream come true. you know that he loves you when actions of endearment become more passionate— when innocent cheek kisses become sloppier lip-locks and when hugs turn into desperate attempts to grab at your flesh, also when your heat cycles become less about finding a mate and more about begging kirishima to ravage  you against the nearest surface, soothing the instinctual ache in your bones and lower tummy. 

he loved you, and you loved him— and you knew that you owed it all to kirishima for the better life he gave you. taking a chance on a shy little puppy hybrid at risk of being put down.

taking a chance on you.

“angel, ‘m home!”

the rustling of brown paper bags, heavy foot-steps and keys jingling in the front door make your puppy dog ears twitch and you perk up from your place deeper in the house at the sound of kirishima coming home from a long day’s work. you scramble up to meet him half-way into the kitchen, tail swishing a mile a minute behind you, nose wriggling in anticipation. “e-eji!” you breathe, fingers itching to reach out and touch him. “you’re back!”

you’re so cute, so loyal that it warms the pro hero right down to his core. kirishima nods once, giving you the go ahead to latch onto him since you’d waited so patiently and lets out a small chuckle as you tuck yourself into his side. “i always come back, don’t i?” setting the bags on the marble island, he frees up a hand to brush over your head softly, using a knuckle to rub behind your ear. “have you been good, baby?” moving to cup your cheeks next, he presses a gentle smooch to the tip of your nose. “‘course you have, you’re always good f’me…but, i gotta know— did ya miss me?”

“i always miss you,” you say a little too quickly, nuzzling into the palm of red riot’s large hand, tail wagging even faster. “can i…can i have a kiss, eiji? please.”

for a moment, a primal look flashes through the hero’s eyes before being replaced with something softer, something that mirrors the smile he gives you. “only ‘cause you asked so nicely, baby,” he says playfully, sliding his hands from your face down to your waist and tugging you nice and close, your hips flush against one another. “c’mere puppy, gimme some sugar, hm?” your body can’t help but bristle, keening into kirishima’s touch as he subtly lowers his voice and guides you into following his command.

you stand on your tiptoes without even realising it, tilting your head upwards as kirishima coaxes your mouth open with his mellow moving tongue—sighing sweetly against your lips until he’s captured them properly in a slow kiss, not giving you too much but pouring enough words into it to let you know how much he cares for you. he pulls away so things don’t too heated, but still keeps his hands on you before you can whine in protest. 

“what’s that?” you ask softly, cocking your head to the side when you notice the bags behind him.

“oh those? well,” kirishima swoops down to your height, nipping your nose with pointed teeth— only serving to make it scrunch up adorably. “i heard it was a certain pup’s birthday today…and it also happens to be the one year anniversary of their adoption. so i got ‘em a lil’ somethin’ to celebrate.”

he lives for the way you smile, almost dies at how your eyes sparkle. “c-can i open it eji?”

“not all of it, pumpkin,” eijirou briefly lets you go and you really do whimper this time, knowing better than to claw at him to stay when you know he’ll be right back. the burly redhead turns to grab a perfectly wrapped package from within the brown paper bag and passes it to you with an eager grin. “go put this on f’me, will you baby? then meet me in the living room once you’re done, for the rest of your present, kay?”

“okay! i’ll be quick!” you practically squeal, vibrating in your place.

“good pup, i’ll be waitin’,” he turns you around with a grip that's barely there, handling you as if you’ll break with too much force and patting you on the bum softly as you go. 

by the time you return to the living room, it’s been completely transformed. 

the lighting is dimmed, a ruby glow filtering through and the soft hum of your favourite song reverberates against the walls and high ceilings. kirishima seems to be fixing a box on the coffee table by the couch before he notices you, a slick and sexy grin tugging at the corners of his lips as you approach him. “there’s my pretty puppy,” he rasps lowly, sending a shiver from the tips of your ears right down to your toes. “god, i think i made the right choice pickin’ that cute lil’ number out for ya, looks so good on you, hun.”

heat pulses under your skin like buzzing kinetic energy, making you tuck the swell of your cheek into your shoulder bashfully, fluffy ears flattening against your skull. “you think so?” said number is a darling little babydoll dress, made of black silk and red lace lace accents that tickle the backs of your thighs with hearts embroidered at the chest.

“it looks perfect on you baby, you’re breathtakin’,” kirishima tells you earnestly, holding his hand out for you to hold— which you take shyly. “c’mere, twirl f’me? wanna see all of you. show off for me, cutie.” every single one of his compliments has your tail swaying from side to side and blood rushing to your brain, making you dizzier than the cute little spins you do for him while the pro hero sinks into the couch to watch you.

he leans back, thighs spreading wide— and you have to fight the urge to drop your gaze between them. “that’s it pretty thing, my puppy’s such a fuckin’ stunner.” kirishima swallows thickly, ruby glossed eyes darkening with desire. “come t’daddy pup, wanna give you your other gift.” 

you quickly shift to stand between his spread legs, quivering like you’re cold has large and rough hands swallow your waist and bunch your night dress up at your hips. he presses sloppy kisses to the softness of your tummy over the material. 

“sit.” he commands simply, tugging on your hips to pull you down with him

“yes daddy,” your breathing is ragged as you sink into kirishima’s lap, thighs apart so that you can straddle him properly.  you wonder if he can hear your heart racing from its place in your chest— your heightened hybrid senses can already pick up on his, kirishima’s pulse sky-rocketing now that you’re on top of him. “c-can i have my gift now?”

his calloused hand pushes the black silk up and over the curve of your ass, red riot digging into the fat of it to rock you back and forth over is hardening girth. “r’member your manners, puppy. yer s’pposed to ask daddy nicely.” nonetheless, he relents and snatches up the box on the coffee table— handing it to you to unravel. “open it up, baby.”

excitedly, you tear through the daintily wrapped package, revealing a red patent leather collar—decorated with red and black bows, and a heart shaped tag with the letters ‘EK’ inscribed into it. collaring was a big deal in the hybrid community, it meant a permanent mark, belonging to someone, being in love.

“let me put it on you,” eijirou simpers, readily slipping the leather around your neck and sliding two fingers underneath it to tug your lips up to his. “i love you, pup.” he confesses, licking into your mouth hungrily and grinding up into your dripping heat.

it’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten and so fast, dumbly following him to the forest fire of lust, sucking on his tongue like a parched puppy lapping at the first drink it can get. hybrids slick up faster when aroused and kirishima turns you on like no other— somehow finding your panty covered clit between your salacious bump and grind. 

slumping against his beefy chest, your nails dig deep into his shoulders and whistle tone dog squeaks bubble up on the swell of your lips each time eijirou swipes the pad of his thumb over your swelling pleasures nub, encouraging your juices to gush over his hard on—glueing you both together by strings your arousal.

“i love you too…p-please e-eiji!” the air in the room feels heavier, tainted with the lust that clouds your logical thought. in fact, you can’t even think right with the way your owner toys with you.  he drools against your puppy tongue, curses into your heated mouth all while you’re riding his fingers like your life depends on it, kirishima pinching at your sticky clit just to hear more of your needy whines. “p-please daddy,”

the hand that once sat lightly against your neck now trails over each dip and curve of your body, barely brushing over your nipples or digging into the meat of your ass and thighs. “you look so fuckin’ good in the things i buy you, hun, drive me fuckin’ insane,” kirishima fights back a moan, cock twitching against your ass, desperate to be inside of you. “so beautiful in that lil’ dress, with my name around your neck. fuck… ‘m so lucky. my pup, daddy’s sexy fuckin’ puppy.” he rambles and praises you all at once, giving you whiplash, making you clench and ooze sweetly around nothing.

you’re sure that the redhead is almost as brainless and as fucked out as you are just from dry humping his darling little pup… but through his own grunts and groans, hips wildly bucking up to meet yours— kirishima still manages to dominate you, make you feel like you don’t even have to think around him. “you want me, pup, is that it? want me to fuck you?” he hums huskily against the shell of your ear, pinging your collar against your neck when you nod your head yes wordlessly. “gotta—fuck— gotta use your words f’daddy, c’mon now, you know that.”

“y-yes daddy, want you. badly.” you slur, and suddenly, your world tilts on its axis. your back hits the sofa with a bounce and you're pinned against it by the weight of your owner above you, your knees being pushed into your shoulders.

“a-always such a good…obedient lil thing f’me,” eijirou groans at the sight of you beneath him. “so perfect, ‘m so lucky t’have such a beautiful puppy all to myself, shit!” your silk baby doll gathers at your hips, soaked panties tucked to the side and your glistening, pulsing mound on display like an attraction made just for him. he wastes no time in yanking down his sweats and boxers in one go— revealing his bright red and angry dick, covered in a thick layer of gooey white precum. all for you. kirishima slaps the length of himself against your slit once, twice before his forehead falls against yours. 

“p-put it in eiji, c-can’t wait daddy…”

even though your cute little sex makes him a wreck, eijirou still manages to hold control over you— teasing you as he forces his fat tip past your tiny, creamy entrance. “so impatient, cutie, i should make you say please… but fuck, i need you so bad right now. might not last long…”

the pair of you let out strained moans as kirishima pushes in and he reaches the hilt—your sweaty bodies flush against one another, both of you covered in layers of each other’s arousal. your pussy flutters at being filled up so fast, clinging onto the pretty blue veins that spiral around his chubby, swollen cock— a low whine rumbles in your chest as the redhead sets a rough stream to his thrusts, milky cockhead brushing against each pulse point on your sensitive walls. 

it’s almost like you’re being knotted, squelching as kirishima tries to pull out of your snug sex that grips him selfishly. all the while, he pounds you to hell and back. you're so full, you’re a slobbering mess already teetering on the edge of insanity. red riot leans over you, washboard abs pressed against the backs of your thighs to force you down into the creaky couch— each time he withdraws from your messy and wet walls, your ears fall back and your tail thumps hard against the cushions, coated in your viscous nectar.

“fuck, this puppycunt sounds so dirty, gorgeous…feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he whispers to you, words damp on your cupid’s bow. “my perfect puppy, a dumb lil’doggy on my cock…s’such a fuckin’ dream.” your brain empties, becomes a void that’s filled with only eijirou kirishima and the way he fucks you deep, hits every spot, touches your body like a man worshipping a higher power. “‘m so lucky baby, really am.”

your collar jingles, the pendant with his name on it bouncing every time kirishima’s cock bullies its way into your gooey insides until they give into him. you’re the lucky one, you think— lucky to be loved like this, to have been rescued from the pound and pinned down on a dick that aches to be inside you, wrapping around his pulsing length to the point where you’re practically milking him already.

“d-daddy!” you hiccup, big fat tears clumping in your lashes, your face a beautiful mess to the man above you. “i can’t…”

the pro hero reaches down between your bodies, close to cumming just from listening to you howl over the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and tugs at your soft slick tail—stroking it until your pussy quivers and gushes around him, painting your babydoll dress and his half rolled down sweats with a fresh wave of your essence. every time he pets the fluffy appendage, you get wetter and wetter, tighter and tighter and your moans loud enough to wake the neighbours. 

heavy hips rock into you, even heavier balls clap creamily against your fleshy ass and kirishima lets his head drop to your neck—biting and sucking possessively at exposed skin just above where your collar lies. “yes you fuckin’ can, your daddy’s good pup right?” he slurs hungrily, writing his claim against your throat. “when you get close, hold it f’daddy, be obedient ‘n you’ll get your reward.”

you feel like everything’s on fire, every nerve ending in your body buzzing with anticipation— the knot in your stomach seconds away from unwinding. “b-but daddy—!”

“hold it.” eijirou warns sternly, though his breath stutters— every instinct that he has threatening to breed you up full with a load of his hot cum. “h-hold it, hon,” you sob at the pain and pleasure of holding off, thighs twitching, tail hitting the couch hard and puppy ears flopping over your face. you’re so adorable like this, jolting up the piece of furniture as the redhead languidly canters into you. he finally breaks when you let out a weak cry of his name, his first spurts of cum pouring into you. “f-fuck, let go for me puppy, make a mess on daddy’s cock—shit, thats it. so good, all over me, wanna see you cummin’ with me…”

white hot ropes of seed paint your insides just as your eyes roll back into your skull. he feels so warm, coating your insides with a layer of his cum as if to claim you from the inside out. there’s so much of it that oozes out of your entrance thickly, like a running tap of honey  that ruins your pussy lips with opaque white—triggering your own orgasm. kirishima holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear as your release crashes over you, rocking your world while your juices splatter out against his pelvis and all over your cute little gown in clear streams.

“happy birthday, beautiful,” the redhead mumbles to you sweetly, kissing his initials on your pendant and right up to your lips. “i love you.”

“t-thank you eiji,” you whisper back— a sleepy, full and content puppy. “i love you too.”

[wri0thesley]

thinking about an apocalypse au only . . . you, pampered and soft and unbroken, have not really had to deal with it. you, with your nice rich family, had the money to prepare; a bunker that may as well have been its own house, years worth of rations (enough to last until the radiation is at safe levels, at any rate). your family and most of their staff. it is not quite the life you’d imagined, but a few years underground has not been quite the trial it could have been.

which is more than can be said for the people who did not gave your family’s money and safe place.

see . . . when the radiation goes down, when you think the outside world is safe again, you were always supposed to emerge. and all of those other high class families like yours; they’ll come out too, and the riff-raff is exterminated, and you can get around to repopulating and rebuilding. the right kind of society.

the best laid plans of mice and men and all that.

because of course everybody else hasn’t perished. they’ve been out there trying to make a living! starving and fighting and poisoning one another. living in this brand new lawless land. and . . . don’t think they didn’t notice all of those rich parasites crawling into their holes to wait out the hard parts, leaving them for dead. don’t think they’re not waiting for you to come back out now your little sensors are pinging ‘safe! come out!’

your family and staff are casualties. but you! you, all fresh and untouched (and fertile, of course, when the end of the world has had such a terrible effect on so many people with the capacity to bear children) . . . you’re useful. you’re at once a piece of art (your hands so soft, your hair well-taken care of, why - you look like you’ve never worked a day in your life! and the easy access to rations ensures your thighs and chest and hips are pleasingly curved, a picture of wanton excess to people who’ve had to fight for scraps for years now) and an absolutely useless symbol of what they’ve lost. you can’t even garden, for god’s sake.

but despite that they take you along (or even just one of them, if your family fucked someone over who’s dangerous enough). and you have to wonder if the world outside is really worth it.

[cupidsarrcws]

i’m in my famous!reader era soooo

imagine being like this rising pop star, being the new sex symbol in music, and being the absolute party girl. your publicist is absolutely fed up with you and your team is starting to think you have a drug problem after showing up to some of your studio sessions looking zoned out and sluggish.

you’re young, you’re stupid, and you’ve definitely made some bad decisions— but you’re famous, a dream you’ve had since you were nine. you’ve wanted to sing your heart out ever since you. old speak and this was your chance.

were you blowing it slightly? yes! but you were living in the moment and your fans love how careless you are (even if their parents don’t exactly enjoy the message you’re sending to their children).

you’re out for the night in some college bar, ignoring every call from your publicist, and dancing with some guy you barely just met when they caught your eye from across the room.

a blonde and brunette, staring at you intensely as you swayed your hips. you smirked softly, ignoring the guy calling out after you as you walked away. he was only good for some free blow and shots. you stopped in front of them and looked between them, taking in their looks and expressions.

“you look like cute little mice,” you giggled, sniffling and rubbing your nose. the blonde blushed while the brunette playfully rolled his eyes.

“we do not look like mice. we’re grown men.” that earned a chuckle from you, leaning down and looking at the drink in the blondes hand. “may i?” you asked, taking a sip out of the straw while making eye contact with him. you could’ve sworn that he just had a heart attack with the way he was looking at you so intensely. you pulled away and looked over at patrick, then down at his cigarette that was hanging in his hand.

you leaned forward and he met you halfway, letting you take a drag from it before you blew the smoke into his face.

“where do i know you from?” patrick asked, both of them leaning forward. you were almost tempted to lean in all the way but were pulled out of your trance when you heard your song started to play, groaning softly and tilting your head forward.

your buzz was officially killed.

“you don’t like this song?” art asked, his voice being drowned out by the people who were singing along to it. you chuckled softly, pushing your head up and leaning in closer to them.

“i wrote it.”

you stood up, looking around the club for the girls you tagged along with but they were no where to be found. just some fucking groupies who wanted a chance to say they partied with you.

“well, it was fun meeting you boys, but i should go before my publicist drags me by my hair.”

you begin to turn around but then feel a hand wrap around your wrist, turning your head back to see the brunette standing along with his best friend.

“come back to campus with us,” he said, causing you to raise your eyebrows as you looked between them.

���come back to a school i’ve never been to with two guys i’ve never met? no thanks.” you try to pull your hand away but he stops you, smirking playfully.

“i’m patrick zwieg, and this art donaldson, stanfords best tennis player,” he teased, chuckling as his friend slaps his shoulder. “we won’t try anything, we just wanna continue talking.”

you look between them again, contemplating just kneeing him in the balls and making a run for it… but you were already in trouble anyway, your team couldn’t get a hold of you, you were supposed to be in bed hours ago, and you needed to ride out your high somewhere.

“fine… but if you guys try anything, i’ll personally castrate you.”

they smirked and led you out of the club, walking by your side as you made your way back to the dorms.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello, can I request a Female Sanji Reader with Yandere Thor, Poseidon, Hades, Qin Shi Huang, Jack, Hercules, Ares, Hermes, Buddha, Zerofuku, Beelzebub, Tesla, Hajun and Loki who’s a chef, and to everyone’s surprise, is actually a Human Fighter (No one believes this beautiful and flirty woman is a fighter… until they discover her Bounty as a pirate from her world as ‘Black Leg Y/N’)

Imagine everyone’s surprise when Reader refuses to use a Volundr, but instead uses her legs, and everyone loses their absolute MIND over reader ‘flying’ (Sky Walk), using Observation and Armament Haki, which can actually harm the gods, her Raid Suit and Diable Jambe, and Reader loudly proclaiming that she’ll never use her hands to fight as they’re only meant for cooking

Reader was going easy on her Opponent, but he just has to open his mouth and insult Brunhilde and the Valkyries Sisters, calling them ‘Harlots’, which sets Reader off and goes batshit calling God Opponent a lot of colorful names, though he did get the upper hand by trapping Reader’s legs and began to crush her, and everyone thought Reader was dead… until she revealed herself with her body bent awkwardly (Cue to both Humans and Gods screaming) as she bends her body back to place, and while she was distracted, her opponent was aiming for her neck, only for his weapon to shatter upon impact, which shocked everyone, as Reader yelled in anger “That hurt you Bastard!” (And wins her fight)

Reader wins her fight but everyone demands to know if Reader is a Demi-God or some sort of monster… only for a pink haired man named Reiji (Genderbent Reiju) comes in to explain that Reader, along with himself and their other brothers were experimented as children, and tells Reader’s tragic tale of being ‘The Failure of Germa’, but is the success of their late mother who willingly drank a special concoction to have at least one of her children normal, and was willing to sacrifice her health and life just for one of her children to live as a normal human (And Reader had to deal with her family’s abuse, until she ran away and found a new father in Zeff, who raised her to cook, fight and take care of herself)

Imagine their fury when they learn Reader was in an arranged marriage, and her Husband-to-be was planning to kill her (Yet Reader doesn’t even hate him, rather she’s still kind to him) and was even willing to save her family, that has been nothing but abusive and horrible to her (This reveals that Reader has a kind and caring heart, which is shown even more with her feeding mice and anyone who’s hungry)

They’re even more shocked that Reader is a Royal, yet is incredibly humble, kind and laid back, as she defends a chef from an angry deity who was throwing his plate of food at her face (Only for Reader to grab it and harshly scold said god for their stupidity, and apologizes to the chef for spilling the food on the floor and proceeds to eat it, and just compliments Chef for the delicious meal, which makes Chef swoon and cry) as Reader reveals she despises those who waste food and men who would harm women

Sorry if this is a lot, I love Sanji (He’s the gentleman of men)

-You were very popular around Valhalla, yes you were stunningly beautiful, and so warm and cheerful, flirting with every man hat was single, and being so warm, inviting and protective of woman, but the real secret to your popularity was your food!

-You had so many visitors to the restaurant you worked in, helping out the chef, because you enjoyed cooking so much and there were so many, humans and gods, who flocked from all over to eat your delicious cooking!

-When you walked out as a fighter for Ragnarok, jaws dropped all around as you gave a dainty twirl, waving your arms around, calling out happily to the crowd.

-Your opponent looked irritated that you were a woman, and he was quick to underestimate you, big mistake!

-You quickly had everyone’s attention, using Sky Walk to leap up high into the air, literally walking on air before you front flipped, spinning rapidly down to your opponent, “Diable Jambe!”

-Your leg seemed to illuminate with flames as you came down hard, sending your opponent’s skull into the ground below, breaking it under the force.

-When you backflipped away from him you heard many cheering for you while others were in awe of your skills.

-Zeus shouted down, “How are you so powerful?!” Heimdall then announced while your opponent was trying to stand up, “I can answer that! Before her untimely death, Y/N was a notorious pirate, Black Leg Y/N! She sailed the Seven Seas as part of one of the strongest crews ever and had one of the highest bounties in the world!!”

-The crowd was immediately in an uproar, many cheering and many yelling out in shock while your hands came to your hips, a grin on your lips.

-When your opponent was finally back on his feet, you quickly went on the attack, using a barrage of rapid kicks, easily taking care of business.

-He shouted at you as you blocked his blow with your leg, “Why aren’t you using your hands?!” you kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him flying back, “These hands are for cooking only, bastard!!”

-He managed to land a harsh blow on you, trapping you under a large piece of the arena ground that he ripped out, crushing you beneath it, a sharp scream leaving your lips.

-You managed to get free, barely dodging a fatal blow, your body was broken, bloody, and crooked, you heard people all over screaming before you tensed your body and you body started to contort, dislocated bones relocated, bones cracking.

-You inhaled deeply through your nose before you charged, your knee meeting his nose, “THAT HURT!!”

-Many were commenting if you were a demi-goddess, while others were concerned you were a demon, but a man with soft bubblegum pink hair spoke, “No, she’s a human, just a very strong one.”

-Attention turned to him, your older brother, Reiji, as he explained yours and his past, that you were both nobles, which stunned so many people, because you were so humble and kind, compared to other royals.

-An actual king whom you kicked in the face told the tale that he had been screaming at a young female chef and threw the plate at her, and you came to her defense, kicking him in the face before scolding him for not only wasting his food, but for attacking a woman. He quickly learned to respect women after that.

-Reiji continued, telling everyone around about your mother, who nearly killed herself to ensure that at least one of her children would not be a weapon, and that child was you, the only girl amongst 4 brothers.

-Many were outraged to hear of the cruelty you had faced, not only from your family, giving Reiji the only pass as he had been the one to help you escape, where you had found Zeff, who raised you.

-Jaws dropped as your valkyrie partner fused with you, forming a Raid Suit, and your opponent shouted, “You humans and those harlots are nothing but a bunch of cheats!!”

-The raid suit immediately fell away as you charged, your Armament Haki covering your legs as you kicked him straight back into the wall, “Respect women you bastard!!!”

-Reiji chuckled, leaning his chin on his hand, “I remember when she was like this at her wedding~” eyes turned quickly on him, as a camera had gotten onto him somehow and he was telling your tale of how your fiancé was ready to kill you on your wedding day, as well as your whole family, but you harbored no ill feelings towards him.

-Many were stunned by your kind hard, hearing that you saved your family, despite despising them all, except for Reiji, because you didn’t want them to die, but you had proved your strength to them before running back off with your crew.

-You won your fight, humanity and gods alike cheering for you, hearing what a strong woman you were, and how kind and warm hearted you were, despite your hardships as you grinned up at your big brother and he chuckled warmly down at you.

-Thor- He met you backstage as soon as you made it there and your eyes turned into hearts, “Thor~~~!!” he chuckled softly, catching you in a hug, pecking your forehead softly before he picked you up princess style, making your cheeks turn a bit red, “I knew you were going to win, Y/N.” you grinned up at him, “It was a good battle, but he made the mistake of insulting my friend!” he chuckled once more, taking you to the infirmary, relief filling him, as he was worried a few times, like when you got crushed. He was glad you were still here with him.

-Poseidon- You beamed brightly, running over to him, “Poseidon~!” he turned, seeing you still bloody and injured from your fight, and he was quick to have you in his arms, “You’re injured, idiot. I need to get you patched up.” You beamed brightly up at him, pecking his cheek which he did glance down at you for, not smiling, but you did see this face soften only slightly, “I almost attacked him when he hurt you. Nobody is allowed to hurt you.” You blushed cutely, holding your cheeks, which made him smile softly.

-Hades- He found you in the infirmary, getting x-rays of your bones that had been broken and you beamed brightly as he walked in, “My love!” he chuckled, coming over and pecked your cheek, but stayed out of the way for the examination. His scowl deepened as he saw the multitude of bandages on you, the wounds, his fury growing to see that this other god, who was lucky he was dead, had put his hands on you and caused you pain. He didn’t notice you were finished until you hugged him, his head on your chest, “Hades, let’s go get something to eat! I’;; cook for you!” he was quick to refuse, having you in his arms again, “You’re not, you’re going to rest.” You pouted lightly, but he wasn’t budging.

-Qin Shi Huang- In the infirmary, you were being patched up before you heard the rumbling of someone charging closer and closer before the door opened, revealing your love and you instantly melted, “Huang~” he was quick to have his hands on your face, inspecting the wounds and the bandages carefully, “Are you hurt? Of course, you are- what am I saying?! Is she all right? Are you all right?” you pecked his cheek after pulling him down, halting his rant but the valkyrie nurses thought it was rather funny before you had him sit next to you so you could lean your head on his shoulder, “I had no idea you were so strong!” you beamed, flexing your arm, “I’ve had lots of practice and experience!” he laughed warmly, leaning over to peck your cheek.

-Jack- He was waiting for you and your partner to arrive backstage; she grinned as she saw Jack waiting for you, rushing off to peek back behind the corner as Jack embraced you, pecking your forehead, “You had me worried there for a moment my dear. I am glad that you are back by my side.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on the tips of your toes, pecking his lips, “Of course Jack, I gave you my word I would come back!” he chuckled softly, brushing your hair behind your ear, “Yes you did, I’m sorry to have doubted you.” You weren’t bothered, not in the slightest, before he led you to his room to patch you up himself.

-Hercules- He was running towards you, “Y/N!” as you arrived backstage and you grinned, opening your arms wide, “Hercules!” he swept you up into his arm, twirling around which made you giggle warmly as you hugged him before he tilted your head up and kissed you so passionately, one of your legs popped up. You were flushed when he pulled back before he picked you up, holding you like you were made of glass, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” you apologized, but you knew he wasn’t angry, at you at least, he was more furious that you had been so badly hurt, another man putting his hands on you. You could feel the heat radiating from Hercules, but that was quickly remedied with a couple of kisses and lots of affection afterwards.

-Ares- He met you in the infirmary, his eyes wide to see you so bruised and beat up, but he relaxed as you grinned over at him, “Hang tight handsome! I need to wash off and change so I can get patched up!” he nodded and waited patiently and when you came out, you could see the furious aura surrounding him, seeing all of the wounds. He, however, couldn’t do much, as you took a seat on his lap, keeping him there as he would dare not move you, something you knew and used to your advantage and something the nurses thought was cute as you spoke with him about your fight, finding it rather fun, except for the injuries. He pecked your forehead gently, saying nothing, but you could tell he was still pouting, which was adorable!

-Hermes- As soon as you and your valkyrie said your goodbyes, hugging each other, you were in his arms, sweeping you easily off your feet. You beamed up at him, “My love!” he chuckled softly, enjoying your kisses as he was focused on getting you to the infirmary, “You were amazing out there, Y/N. Were you really a pirate?” You just laughed warmly, your arms around his neck, “I was, but I was a chef first, then I was the cook on my crew!” he was surprised to learn this, as you didn’t really talk much about your past, other than your friends and Zeff and your time as a cook. He enjoyed learning this new side about you, wanting to learn more and more, a soft smile on his face.

-Buddha- You found him lounging on your couch in your waiting room after you got bandaged up, holding your jacket and vest in your hands, leaving only your sleeveless shirt on, as you had been quite roughed up. You smiled warmly as he opened his arms, wanting cuddles and he was quick to have you wrapped in his arms as you sighed in content, pressing a soft kiss to his collar bone as he moved his lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other, “I knew you were strong but…damn, that was hot!” you blushed cutely, sitting up, “You think so?” he grinned, locking his hands behind your back, “Absolutely! Seeing you kick ass like that was delicious.” You laughed at his slight tease before he pecked your forehead softly, telling you to get some rest.

-Zerofuku- The child ran for you as you made it backstage, “Y/N!” you could see he was crying as he was quick to leap into your arms, hugging you tightly, his face pressed into your chest for a moment before he pulled back, “You’re hurt!” you brushed his tears away, but gave him a warm grin, “But I’m alive! C’mon, let’s go get me patched up then we can go relax!” he cheered, holding onto your hand and actually dragged you after him to the infirmary, as he didn’t like seeing you in pain. He sat beside you, holding onto your arm like he was the one being treated, which was rather cute as you pecked his forehead softly, making him beam up at you. He was so stinking cute!

-Beelzebub- You yawned softly as you walked into your private waiting room, jacket and vest off and your shirt untucked and only barely buttoned, as you were covered in bandages. You let out a small squeak, seeing your lover sitting there, waiting for you before he was quick to come over, seeing your now bandaged wounds as you smiled warmly up at him, “Told you I’d win!” he couldn’t keep the smile from his lips, nodding, “Yes you did, and now- you’re resting until further notice!” he gave you no room to argue, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you over to the couch before sitting down, holding you in his lap. You arms were around his neck as you enjoyed his warmth, “Guess I will rest, only if you hold me.” he chuckled, his arms encircling your waist, holding you close.

-Nikola- Poor baby was nearly in tears when you made it back to him, greeting him with a bright smile, despite being bloody and bruised and he was quick to have you in his arms, sprinting to the infirmary, begging the nurses to save you. It’s not like you were dying, but you couldn’t stand seeing that poor heartbroken look on his face. You had been taking all the treatments with not even a whimper before you spoke, “Nikola, I want you to hold my hand, I’m scared~” the nurses thought it was cute that he took it so seriously, immediately sitting at your side, holding your hand and talking about his research, to distract you, unaware that you were the one distracting him!

-Hajun- The nurses were nervous under his fierce gaze, watching them patch you up. He didn’t like other’s touching you, not even other females, but he was allowing it only because they were helping you at the moment. You leaned your head on his arm, trying to get his attention on you and off of the poor nurse, but you couldn’t say anything, as you knew he was worried about you, which warmed your heart. In a rare soft moment, he brushed your hair from your face, “Does it hurt?” you smiled softly up at him, “It does, but it will heal. That’s proof that I’m alive!” he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, breathing out a bit deeply as he relaxed, you were alive, that’s all that mattered.

-Loki- Despite being the one injured, you were the one comforting him as you laid in one of the infirmary beds, his head on your lap, arms around your waist, pouting, as his shoulders were sagging, and he wasn’t talking. You didn’t like seeing your lover quiet, because he was only quiet when he was sleeping, or upset, and he wasn’t sleeping. You scratched his head gently, stroking through his hair and he nuzzled down into you a bit deeper and he froze when he felt you flinch, hitting one of the wounds that was a bit more tender. He pulled back instantly, looking scared, his eyes meeting yours and you instantly smiled, opening your arms, “I want a proper hug!” he smiled softly, saying nothing but carefully crawled forward and hugged you properly, feeling you, feeling that you were still with him.

[archangeldyke-all]

thinking ab sev and vampire reader again.. (im obsessed if u cant tell)

what if sevika walked in on vampire reader ranting to their pet bat about how annoying hunting for food can be and their bat seemingly responding back (like understanding what shes saying) ? my asks are literally so odd but like.. i think she'd be so fucking confused LMAOO

thinking about it being a vampire bat also cause.. it just makes sense lol

black reader pleaseee <33

eeeeek im so glad u guys like this little story! i'm gonna combine this with another suggestion i got!

now you know damn well you got us fiending for vampire!reader drinkin sev’s blood….. ohmygod just imagining it is making me giddy. like it feels sososo good but sevika has to pry reader off of her after a few mins bc she’s starting to get a lil lightheaded, and reader thought she’d be able to control herself better but nah 😋

same disclaimer as last time! i'm white, and this is a black reader, so please lmk if i get anything wrong and i'll fix it asap :)

men and minors dni

sevika wakes up to the sound of... squeaking?

she sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes before she stands and quietly pads into the living room.

she's woken up to a lot of strange shit since she started dating you.

you hovering over her and admiring her sleeping face, your cat laying on her head and purring away, you feeding on a rat in the kitchen, various combs and gels and bundles of hair littering the bed as you braid your hair while you wait for her to wake... but this is something new.

you've got the window open, and fluttering back in forth in front of you is a little... bird? sevika squints her eyes. no... not a bird... what is that?

"no i know it's so fucking annoying!" you groan. the squeaking happens again, and sevika furrows her brows, her eyes adjusting to the dark. the squeaking halts, and you stick a finger out, and the little creature comes to latch onto it. "hahaha!" you laugh. "dude, you're hilarious. no-- but have you ever accidentally fed on a poisioned rat?"

the squeaking continues, the little creature adjusting on your finger. sevika blinks again. it's... a bat?? you snort.

"right, you're too small for rats. poisoned mice then?" you ask.

the bat squeaks in response.

sevika shakes her head.

"it's the fucking worst dude! be careful, okay? avoid the slow ones-- it means they're dying from it." the bat squeaks in response and you laugh. "i know they're easier to catch, but you'll get sick!"

"are you talking to a fucking bat right now?" sevika asks. you turn your head, shocked to see her in the doorway. the bat flutters on your finger, its face turning toward you as well. she snorts.

"oh, hey sev." you say. there's a squeak, and you look at your little companion. "my girlfriend, sevika." you say, smiling. the bat squeaks repeatedly, and you laugh. "he wants to know if you're a human." you translate. sevika blinks.

"and he can understand me?" she asks, still frozen in the doorway. you wave her over, and she hesitantly approaches. "babe... that's a fucking rodent. you've got a rodent, in our house." she says. there's an indignant squeak and you gasp.

"he's not a fucking rodent, he eats rodents, don't be rude!" you exclaim. sevika snorts and comes up to your side, warily eyeing your little friend. your bat friend squeaks at her. you chuckle. "i know, right?"

"what'd he say?" she asks. you blink, a guilty look on your face. sevika grins. "c'mon, tell me." she says, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. you sigh.

"he said you smell good. that he should feed off of you."

"hm." she says, looking at you. "and you agree?" she asks.

"no." you say, shaking your head. "i'd get too jealous." you say. sevika snorts, and your bat friend squeaks, and you sigh. "alright, go ahead, but just be safe, okay? and come back next week, i'll get you a proper perch and everything." you say. your bat friend flutters, swooping in a circle before taking off into the night. sevika watches it go, still processing what she's woken up to.

"honestly, i don't think i'm ever gonna get used to all the strange shit you get up to." she mumbles. you giggle, reaching forward to close the window, then turning around to wrap sevika up in your arms.

"you are supposed to be sleeping." you say. sevika smiles.

"can't sleep without my bodyguard." she says. you giggle.

"c'mon back to bed for the two of us. i'll keep watch." you say, dragging sevika toward your bedroom. she doesn't move. you pause, looking back over your shoulder at her. she's smirking. "what?" you ask. she shrugs.

"i smell good, huh?" she asks. you roll your eyes.

"you already knew that, sev." you say. she giggles, pulling you back toward her.

"and you'd get jealous of your little friend?" she asks. you chuckle.

"i would. you're mine." you say, pressing a kiss to her cheek. she grins.

"but... you still haven't fed from me yet." she says.

"sev, not this again." you groan. she chuckles.

"yes, this again." she says. "c'mon, babe, how many times am i gonna have to fuckin' beg you to get those teeth in me?" she asks. you giggle.

"you know why i'm... hesitant." you say. sevika rolls her eyes.

"you think you'll fuckin' drain me." she says. "as if you don't get full on a pint and a half."

"but you're you." you say. "you're... so fucking delicious. in so many ways. i'm already fucking addicted to you, and i haven't even tasted your blood yet."

sevika smiles. "honey." she says, kissing your lips. "i'm yours. for as long as you'll have me--"

"forever." you say, interrupting her. sevika grins, and butterflies flutter in your stomach. you've told her before-- vampires mate for life. and if sevika ever wishes, you've told her time and time again that you'd be honored to change her so she can spend eternity with you. forever.

"exactly." she says. "baby, you know you'll have to bite me to change me." she says. you groan and roll your eyes.

"well, duh." you say. "but that's different--"

"please!" she cries. you blink. "please, babe, i'm fucking dying for it. i wanna... i wanna be the one who makes you warm. want it to be my blood pumpin' through you, giving you life. at least for a few years, before we gotta hunt together, yeah?" she asks, blinking at you with big eyes.

you gulp. sevika always manages to catch you off guard with the stupidly romantic shit she says to you. your hands are shaking at your sides, and your fangs are begging to descend from your gums. "sev--"

"and i don't give a fuck about your vampire strength, i could still take you in a fight. so if you drink too much i'll just shove you off!" she says.

"sevi--"

"c'mon baby please! i want it so bad--"

"sevika!" you laugh. she blinks. "fine." you say.

"fine?" she asks.

"let's... let's do it." you say, grinning. she blinks, then bursts into laughter.

"really!?" she asks. you chuckle and swoop forward to kiss her lips. she moans against you, wrapping her arms around your hips. she pulls away with a gasp, grinning at you. "where should we do it? should i set down towels? do i need to do like, a detox or something? or should i be drunk so you can get drunk too?" she asks, speaking at a mile a minute. your smile only grows, until your cheeks are aching.

"baby--"

"shit, this is so fucking exciting. i've been waiting for mont--"

"sevika!" you interrupt her again, reaching up to put a finger over her lips. she blinks at you, giddy. "take me to bed, babe." you say. sevika gulps and then nods.

you've got her sprawled out beneath you, her hands gripping your hips as she squirms under you. she's already looking at you with hazy, love-drunk eyes, and you haven't even bitten her yet. you grin down at her.

"you're sure?" you ask. sevika groans.

"baby-- please!" she whines. "i'm-- i can't-- if you make me wait any longer i'm gonna fucking die!" she wails. you laugh.

"you're not gonna die."

"yes i am!" she says, hysterically, reaching up to grab your head and pull it down toward her neck. you squeal.

"sev!" you laugh, dodging her neck to press your lips against hers. this satiates her a bit, and she stops squirming enough to hum against your mouth.

"i love you." she whispers against your lips. you smile.

"i love you too." you say. "i've never..." you trail off, and sevika blinks up at you.

"never what?" she asks.

"i've never done this with someone who i wasn't trying to kill. or wasn't blackout drunk." you say. she smirks.

"so, i'm your first?" she asks. you roll your eyes.

"shut up."

"fuck." she shivers. "if it makes you feel any better, you're poppin' my vampire cherry too." she grins. you groan.

"shut up!"

"why don't you make me?" she asks, lifting up her chin, baring her throat to you. you shiver on top of her.

"if it hurts--"

"i'll tell you." she says.

"i--" you trail off, gulping. you can see the pulse under her skin, you can hear her heartbeat. you lick your teeth, and your fangs descend. sevika gasps.

"fuck that's hot." she whispers. you bite your cheek.

"i love you." you whisper. she smiles up at you.

"i love you t-- oh!" she gasps as you duck down dragging your teeth against the tender flesh of her neck. you nip and kiss against it, darting your tongue out to lick against her pulse point. she whimpers. "b-baby." she whines. you hum against her. "plea--" she doesn't get the chance to finish.

you sink your fangs into her throat, groaning as the first drop of her blood hits your tongue.

sevika jolts underneath you, her hands clawing into your hips, gasping as the pain wracks through her body. you quickly push your saliva against your puncture wound, and groan in satisfaction as sevika's body relaxes beneath you as pleasure of begins to enter her system.

once she's relaxed, you retract your teeth, then purse your lips around the two puncture wounds and begin sucking.

sevika tastes like heaven. ambrosia. liquid fucking gold.

you moan against her neck, suddenly fucking ravenous as you gulp down mouthful after mouthful of her blood.

beneath you, sevika's encouraging you. the sweet little whimpers and whines she's letting out make you fucking dizzy, and when she starts squeezing her thighs together you groan.

you quickly adjust on top of her, snaking your hand down her body and into her pants. sevika gasps.

"please!" she begs. you chuckle against her, and slip your fingers down to begin working against her clit in gentle, slow circles. a full body shudder wracks through her body. "f-fuck baby, holy shit." she whimpers. you hum against her. "you're never feeding from anyone else ever again. ever. shit! fu-fuck me, please fuck me-- feels so fucking good."

you groan, a drip of her blood escaping your mouth, trickling down your chin. you shove your hands further down her pants, soaking your fingers with her arousal before teasing against her hole. she's pulsing against your finger tips, in time with the roaring beat of her heart.

you groan again, and sink two fingers inside of her to the hilt, unable to control yourself enough to be gentle. sevika doesn't seem to mind, if anything, she seems to fucking love it.

"yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, shit! you're the best thing that's ever fuckin' happened to me, oh fuck!" she groans. you shiver on top of her, your fingers slamming in and out of her cunt, pressing against her spongy g-spot on every thrust.

you can barely make it out over the strong beat of her heart, the heavy breaths you're taking through your nose, the clicking of your throat as you gulp her down-- but sevika's cunt is fucking squelching, and her arousal is soaking her pajama pants and your fingers.

you're-- you're so fucking drunk on her. you've never felt this good during a feed, ever. even when you drain an entire body, even when you're killing an abuser and he's screaming in pain beneath you, even when you're drinking from a drunkard's neck and the warmth of the alcohol is settling in your veins. this is heaven.

"i'm gonna--" sevika doesn't finish her sentence, cumming around your fingers with a scream. "baby!" she wails. you don't stop fucking her, you just growl against her neck and continue pounding into her cunt.

she's shivering beneath you, her hands clawing into your hips. you're sure you'll have bruises tomorrow, but you don't give a shit.

your cunt's pulsing in your own pants, and you start to grind down on sevika's thigh. she just squeaks-- completely overwhelmed.

"b-babe--" sevika mutters. you groan against her. "i'm gonna cum again, shit-- cum with me, please, you feel so fucking good, i'm so fucking in love with you, oh my god i love you, i love you i love you i love yo-- ah fuck!" she cries, cumming again, her cunt clenching around your fingers hard enough for your knuckle bones to crush against each other.

you groan and cum against her thigh, shaking and nearly hyperventilating on her neck with how hard you're heaving breaths to keep drinking from her.

sevika grabs your wrist, and you pull your fingers out of her cunt, shooting your hand up to shove them down her throat. she groans around your fingers and you chuckle against her neck, and sevika sighs the prettiest little sigh you've ever heard come from her lips beneath you.

"shit, honey." she garbles around your fingers. you hum, and sevika grunts. "sh-shit."

suddenly, sevika's hand comes up to grab your hair by the roots, pulling you away from her neck. you blink down at her, suddenly aware of your surroundings now that her blood's not filling your mouth.

"are you--"

"lightheaded." she mumbles, grinning up at you. you giggle, bending back down to lick at her wounds, waiting until the blood stops flowing before pressing a kiss against her throat.

you continue to trail kisses up her neck, over her jaw, until you meet her lips. she hums against you, and you grin.

"are you okay?" you ask. she giggles like she's high.

"i'm fucking amazing." she whispers. you giggle.

"you're suffering from severe blood loss."

"i'm in love with you. let's get married."

you burst into laughter, feeling warm and satiated and so fucking in love with the woman beneath you.

"okay." you say. sevika's eyes widen.

"fuck, really?" she asks, grinning. you shrug.

"ask me again in the morning when you've got your red blood cell count back up and you've got yourself a deal." you say. "but-- once you start gettin' old i'm turning you." you say. "you sure you wanna do eternity tied to me?" you ask. she grins.

"i'm gonna miss bein' your bloodbag once i'm a vampire." she says. you giggle.

"you did it once!"

"we're doin' it every day from now until you turn me." she says, smiling up at you. you laugh.

"i'm not that hungry!"

"i don't give a fuck, we're doin' it for me!" she says. you grin, then duck down to kiss her again. she sighs against your lips.

"i love you." you say. sevika smiles.

"i love you too. i've never been so happy to have a stalker before." she says. you giggle.

"stay here, i'm gonna get you some orange juice." you say as you float above her body. you feel fucking amazing, full of life and magic. sevika smiles up at you.

"come back quick. i miss you already."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[jakes3resin]

Blondes Have More Fun

Anyways, this is probably the closest I'll ever get to writing Crack fic for this fandom, so enjoy Blond!Bucky and his ability to drive Buck and the entirety of the 100th wild with his smile and hair! Also personally I think Callum looks like a 24 year old when blond, so imagine handsome charming, nearly thirty Bucky Egan running around looking like a baby faced newbie then you'll be half a bowled over as the 100th.

It is a truth universally acknowledged at Thorpe Abbotts that Major John "Bucky" Egan can be talked into anything. Anything. So long as you were convincing and Buck wasn't around to drag him away from the dumber ideas, Bucky was down to play ball.

Curt had once talked him into using a British accent for a whole week, even in meetings with the CO. Bucky hadn't even blinked before adopting an uncannily perfect London accent. It was so convincing that some of the newer replacements had asked if the man was British.

Another time, he got into a howl off with Meatball after Hambone said he didn't know which one was worse. The pair were so loud that no one could actually tell who won. Most were too busy covering their ears. The few that weren't couldn't decide. It was officially settled as a draw, but Benny still refuses to accept that Bucky would ever beat his precious boy Meatball in anything.

There were countless tales of Bucky getting into trouble simply because someone had said within his earshot the six words needed to wreck Jack Kidd's night.

"You know what would be fun?"

The magic words. That or a dare would send Bucky careening into trouble with half the 100th behind him to watch the fireworks. Honestly, most of the time, Bucky was already getting up to his own antics, so convincing him to do something else wasn't exactly hard.

It was one such utterance of the phrase that sparked a wildfire within the 100th Bomber Group that threatened to tear them asunder and send one Major Gale "Buck" Cleven to an early grave. Or prison.

The night was like any other Friday night. Bucky had gone out with Curt and Bubbles. Buck had chosen to stay in for the night reading, and Harry had done much the same. Kidd, the minder of the entire 100th, had gone to the officer's club while the trio had gone to a local pub in the town just off base. So the usual minders of this trio of mad men were missing, and as the saying goes, while the cats are away, the mice will play.

It started as Bubbles's idea.

At least that's what they think it started as. A few too many drinks had left the evening a blur for Curt and Bubbles and a blank for Bucky. That last fact will be important later.

"You know what would be fun?" Bubbles said, or perhaps it was Curt. Or maybe it was Bucky. But it was probably Bubbles. The man was quite the troublemaker, he just hid it better behind soft smiles and manners.

"What?" Bucky leaned against the bar to grin at Bubbles. Well perhaps a more accurate word would be slumped, he'd spent half the night playing some weird darts game that required shots for every bull's eye Tommy made. It was safe to say that the man was on the downhill slide to wasted. Curt kept an ear on the pair as he flirted with a pretty blonde next to them at the bar.

"Being blonde." Bubbles sighed. "All the movies make it seem fun, don't they? And Major Cleven sure is pretty with his blond hair. I bet it'd look really pretty as well on your curls Bucky."

"Sorry, sweetheart, one moment," Curt turned his head to stare at Bubbles. "You think Buck's pretty?"

"And you don't?"

"I do!"

"We know you do, Bucky," Curt sighed and leaned further onto the bar to make eye contact with Bubbles. "I mean, sure, objectively, you could say he is, but I thought you were wrapped up with Croz and Jean?"

"I am, but I still got eyes don't I? 'Sides ain't there something fun about being blonde?" Bubbles leaned against his cupped hand on the bar. "Can't a mind wonder?"

"Yeah Curt," Bucky rose in defense of his friend slinging an arm around Bubble's neck. The move was so uncoordinated that the pair were nearly sent to the floor. "Why can't Bubbles wonder? I wanna go blond, too!"

Curt rolled his eyes at them, but an idea was taking root in his head. An amazing idea.

"Well," Curt grinned. "Why wonder when you can do?"

"You boys aren't thinking about bleaching your friend's hair on your own are you?" A voice cut through the trio's conversation. It seemed the blonde woman from before had been listening in and was rightly amused by the drunk airmen's conversation.

"Cause you'll fry his whole head off in the state you're in, and the world would mourn those curls." She lifted a hand to tug gently on one of Bucky's loose wavy curls. He smiled at her, loose and happy. Usually, only Buck plays with his hair, but Bucky doesn't mind when anyone else does. Buck does though, which Bucky still hasn't figured out.

"Well, how do you suppose we save his curls then," Curt paused searching for the woman's name, "Nora."

"Good job, I half thought you were too drunk to remember my name handsome." Curt smiled, and Nora kept talking

"There's a drugstore down the way. Stocks up on anything a girl, or flyboy in need, could ever need. I'll help you boys out." Nora laughed. "You'll look mighty pretty dyeing those curls blond Major. I wanna see 'em first."

With Nora leading the way, the trio tripped over themselves into chaos. Bucky laughed as Bubbles rambled on about how pretty he'll look as a blond. Curt butting in to say that he'll need to either shave his mustache or bleach it too.

On base, Buck felt a shiver run down his spine as he laid down to sleep. Writing it off as just a chill from the cold British air, the man fell asleep.

Bucky groaned as he woke up. Voices drifted around him. His head felt like it'd be screwed off and used as a bowling ball all night, and as desperately as he wanted to go back to sleep, he knew that now that the sun was up, he was up.

"Curt, if that's you snoring on my legs, I'm gonna kick you off." Bucky pulled his pillow further over his head, trying to block out said snores.

"Fuck off," Came the grumbled reply. An elbow dug into the back of his knee.

"Get off," John whined. Curt huffed shifting just enough to let Bucky free his legs. "Why didn't you go to your own bed?"

"Yours is comfier." Bubbles murmured next to the pair, and Bucky really was starting to wonder what the hell they all drank the night before.

"It's the same cot as everybody else." Bucky grumbled, finally sitting up. Bubbles and Curt immediately swooped onto the space he abandoned. "Rude. You just want me for my bed."

"But it's such a lovely bed, sweetheart," Curt buried his face in Bucky's pillow, not even glancing at the man he was stealing from. Bubbles seemed to have immediately fallen back to sleep.

"I'm getting breakfast," Bucky yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Meet me there when you idiots wake up. I'll sneak you in."

"Sir, yes, sir." Curt's hand flopped into a mock salute that had Bucky rolling his eyes.

First things first, breakfast. Or at least coffee for his hangover.

Getting dressed as quickly as he could, Bucky didn't even waste time checking how he looked in a mirror. He went to smooth down his mustache only to curse when he found it missing. Thinking Curt must have shaved it off as a joke, Bucky groaned but moved on. He didn't even touch his hair after that, just walked right out of his barracks. The only thing that mattered to him was coffee and how he'd get his hands on a gallon of it. It wouldn't be the first time he ran around base with his hair going every which way. No one would bat an eye.

Had he known what kind of chaos he was about to wreck upon the poor, unsuspecting airmen of Thorpes Abbotts, Bucky would have at least styled it a bit. You know, just to ensure maximum chaos.

The bike ride to the mess wasn't awful. The fresh air helped at least. With his sunglasses on, his head felt less like it was going to split open and more human. What was weird was how everyone stopped in their tracks to watch him ride past.

"Is that-?"

"No way!"

"Someone get Kidd!"

"Holy shit!"

"Major Cleven is going to lose his mind!"

"Do you think he has a twin?"

"Hell if I know, I can't believe Major Cleven let him out of the barracks like that."

"Lord help us if there's another Egan running around."

Bucky ignored them. He was way too hungover to parse through what nonsense the boys were going on about, and he simply pedaled faster to get to the officer's mess. He just wanted his coffee.

"Major Egan, sir!"

Bucky glances up from securing his bike and meets the eye of one of the newer boys. Kid barely looks old enough to have enlisted.

"Uh," Bucky searches his memory for this kid's name. Bucky tried to know some of the newbies names, but it was harder than he'd ever admit. "Monroe, right?

"Yes, sir!" The kid squeaked, a bright tomato blush spreading across his cheeks. Bucky winced, the sound drilling right into his brain. "I wanted to say you look nice today, sir. Your, your hair is real nice!"

"Thanks, Monroe," Bucky smiled, thrown by how Monroe managed to grow even redder. He reaches out to clasp the kid on the shoulder. "You alright there? You look like you're gonna faint. Had any breakfast yet?"

"I-I'm fine, sir, thank you!" Monroe was stock still under Bucky's hand, but he wrote it off as nerves. Some of the boys got nervous around the older pilots, especially if they were officers. "I'll be going now! Have a good day, sir!"

In a flash, the blushing replacement ducked under Bucky's arm and ran as fast as he could down the lane. Bucky watched him go, head tilted not sure what the hell just happened to him. He heard a few shrieks behind him but wrote it off as typical background noise. There was always something going on.

"Weird kid." Bucky turned to walk into the officer's mess. He'd have to tell Buck about it when he saw him next. Maybe he'd understand what just happened.

Speaking of, Buck had better have saved him a seat for breakfast. Bucky was not going to battle the morning rush as well as his hangover just to find out he had nowhere to sit.

On the way inside, Bucky ran into Veal. As in, he literally ran into the man because he'd stopped dead in his tracks staring at him. Bucky hadn't even seen the other before he practically bowled him over.

"Veal, what the hell?" Bucky groaned.

"You," Veal stared at him wide-eyed. If Bucky were less hungover, he'd get quite a kick out of this. "You, you?"

"Shaved, I know," Bucky gestured to his face. He turned to keep walking into the officer's mess. "Yeah, Curt had some fun last night."

"Wait, no! Bucky-!" Veal went to grab him, but Bucky just swerved out of the way. Nothing was getting in his way in his quest for coffee. "Bucky! Stop! Don't go in there!"

"Yeah, yeah, Veal," Bucky waved a hand behind him. "I get you're shocked, but come on, man. It's not the first time any of you've seen me without it!"

Bucky rushed in, not paying anymore attention to Veal. He walked with one purpose. Coffee. He didn't care if the other officers stopped and stared at him slackjawed as he walked past. He was a man on a mission.

"Hey, coffee, please? Whole pot if you could," Bucky smiled at the attendant, who blushed scarlet before running off. Thrown but not deterred, Bucky just shrugged and turned to find Buck. Maybe he'd be able to steal Buck's coffee.

He found Buck seated near one of the windows with his back facing Bucky. Jack was at his table, but otherwise, it was empty. Bucky started over.

Jack saw him first and choked on his grapefruit juice.

"Oh shit," Jack choked out. Buck leaned over to check on him.

"Alright, Jack?" Bucky grabbed the seat next to Buck. Jack just stared at him, eyes wide. Bucky tilts his head confused. "Buck, what's with him?"

Buck turns and freezes. Bucky stares at him. Buck stares back.

"Buck?" Bucky reaches out to shake him.

"You," Buck starts but doesn't finish. His wide blues eyes stare at Bucky's face.

"Coffee, sir!"

The attendant from before arrives with Bucky's requested pot of coffee and a cup.

"Thanks!" Bucky smiles up at the other. The attendant trips backward. Buck turns and glares at the other man. He flees.

"Buck, what the hell?" Bucky nudges Buck. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Buck turns to stare at Bucky again, a clench to his jaw that Bucky's knows means he's holding something back. Jack seems to have started breathing normally again.

"Your hair!" Jack says. Bucky reaches up to touch his hair. Sure, he didn't style it this morning, but was it so bad? Monroe said it looked good!

Speaking of, why was everyone focusing on his hair today?

"What about it?" Bucky's genuinely curious now. Buck's still staring at him, eyes bright, and now Jack seems to be wishing for death.

"Its-!"

"Pretty."

Bucky turns to Buck. It's his turn to stare wide-eyed at the other. A blush rises up to his cheeks. Buck's not one to mince his words, and a compliment from him feels akin to a hundred.

The entire mess hall goes quiet as Buck stares at him. Bucky smiles at him. Buck goes rigid, and Jack chokes on his juice next to them. Again.

"Bucky!" Curt slammed his hand against the window, happy as a clam and utterly sober. Bucky hates that Irish constitution of his. "Let us in!"

Bucky stands up to hoist open the window. Jack's still too busy choking on his juice to stop him, and Buck seems to have frozen solid. Bubbles and Curt fall through seconds later. The pair immediately start talking over each other happily, and Bucky is starting to wonder if he was the only one who woke up with a hangover.

"God, you should hear the scuttlebutt going round!" Curt cackles as he launches himself into the seat across from Bucky. Bubbles nods next to him, already munching on a piece of toast Bucky thinks used to be Jack's.

"Anything fun?" Bucky dumps creamer into his coffee. He moans as he takes a sip of it. God, coffee really was the best hangover cure. Bucky doesn't notice how quiet the mess hall got until Bubbles finally answers his question a minute later. Odd.

"Just how pretty your hair looks now Major," Bubbles smiled at him. Bucky reached for his hair again.

"Is it really so different?" He asks. Buck makes a noise next to him like a dying chicken, and Curt cackles.

"Blond really is your color, Bucky! You look like one of those pin up posters running around like that!" Curt reaches across the table to tug on one of his curls, drawing it down into his eyesite. Buck bangs his knee against the table with a swear. Bucky would fuss over him, but he's reevaluating his whole morning with this new information.

"Oh!" Bucky gasps. Now he feels silly. "That's why Monroe complimented me outside?"

"Pardon?" Buck's voice comes out strangled. Bucky swings his gaze back to him. Buck's blue eyes are nearly electric, and Bucky gulps.

"Monroe? Cute kid? Brunette replacement with a billion freckles that disappear when he blushes?" Bucky rambles. Curt cackles again as Jack buries his face into his hands. Bubbles grabs a slice of Buck's toast this time.

"And he stopped you?" Buck's jaw was doing the thing Bucky knows only happens when he's pissed. But why would he be mad? Bucky tilts his head to stare at Buck, curls flopping down into his eyes now that Curt's untucked them from behind his ears.

Buck clenches his fist.

"Yeah, he and Veal both stopped me before I walked in." Bucky reaches over to grab Buck's hand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine John," Buck reaches up to tuck his loose curls back behind his ear. His hand lingers, and Bucky fights the urge to press his cheek into Buck's hand. "You look real pretty."

"Yeah?" Bucky sits up straighter, leaning into Buck's space. "How pretty?"

"Like a daydream." Buck whispers, voice low. His blue eyes won't stop staring, and Bucky can tell his blush is spreading by the volume of Curt's laugh.

Oh, Bucky could just kiss the other.

"Yeah, Nora did a nice job on your hair!" Bubbles pipes up having polished off Buck's toast. "We should write her a thank you card!"

"Nora?" Buck twitches.

"The girl who dyed Bucky's hair, of course!" Curt chimed in reaching for Bucky's coffee. Bucky batted his hands away, holding desperately onto his cup. "Pretty girl too! Kept running her hands through Bucky's hair saying how nice it was."

"I think nows a good time to stop that." Jack shoved his last slice of toast in Curt's mouth.

Buck's hand was still hovering over Bucky's cheek.

"Oh, now I remember!" Bucky leaned towards Curt and Bubbles with a bright smile. "She kissed me on the cheek before we left, right?"

Buck pushed his chair away from the table with a screech. Jack turned back to his grapefruit juice with a sigh.

Buck stormed out of the building, and it was through the combined efforts of Curt and Bubbles that Bucky didn't run after him. They could hear yelling through the still open window.

"Oh shit!"

"Everybody run! Major Cleven's pissed!"

"Who flirted with Bucky this time?!"

"Buck calm down, whoever it was they probably didn't mean anything by it!"

"Outta my way Crank."

"Buck, c'mon if you go to jail, who'll stay by Bucky's side?"

"Only gotta go to prison if I get caught."

"That's right-wait, Buck, no!"

Bucky sipped at his coffee. Jack sighed and turned to Bucky.

"Would you please go stop him? I'm not explaining to Harding why one of the 100th murdered a civilian, a fellow Major, and a replacement."

"Buck wouldn't do that," Bucky rolled his eyes.

Jack stared at him, judgement clear in his eyes. Bucky shifted under his gaze.

"Fine," Bucky groaned and pushed away from the table. He refilled his cup of coffee. "He wouldn't, but I'll go stop him."

Curt and Bubbles chirped their goodbyes as they waved down an attendant. Bucky mourned his pot of coffee as he glanced back and saw Curt gleefully pouring it into a cup.

Stepping put in the sunshine, Bucky reached for his sunglasses. Finding Buck would be easy. He simply turned in the direction of the yelling and started walking.

He ignored the boys all watching him and whispering. Now that he was walking, he could see his reflection in the windows of the buildings he passed. His normally brown locks were now a bright blond. He felt a bit foolish for not seeing it earlier, but hangovers tended to narrow one's field of vision to only what's necessary.

"DeMarcooo!" Bucky called out when he saw the other walking Meatball. "You seen Buck anywhere?"

"Just missed him," Benny yelled back. He pointed to the left of the barracks. "Went that way!"

"Thanks!" Bucky called back with a smile. A few of the boys around him erupted in whispers.

"Nice hair!" Benny yelled with a grin. Bucky rolled his eyes and kept walking. Buck couldn't have gone too far, right?

He found Buck only a few minutes later outside of one of the barracks the replacements were quartered. He was leaning against a wall talking to someone.

"Buck!" Bucky jogged over. As he got closer, he realized that the person Buck was talking to was the kid from earlier. "Monroe! Good to see you again so soon!"

"Major!" Monroe squeaked, eyes bouncing from Buck to Bucky. "Major Cleven was just reminding me about a few chores that I forgot about! I'll get going! Sirs!"

The kid ran off before Bucky could stop him. Buck watched with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, and Bucky huffed out a laugh.

"You know, you don't have to act all jealous to get my attention," Bucky pulled Buck to him by wrapping an arm around his waist. "I'll still only ever look at you."

"Just making sure everyone else knows that." Buck replied, voice low and serious.

Bucky reached up his free hand to drag him down into a kiss. Buck melted into his touch. Bucky laughed into he kiss as he tried to keep his coffee from spilling all over the two of them. He pecks the corner of Buck's mouth and pulls away.

"So you like the hair?" Bucky scrunches his nose into a shit eating grin.

Buck wiped that grin off his face with another kiss. Not that Bucky was complaining, of course.

Later that night, after making sure Buck didn't actually murder anyone, Bucky found himself in front of a vaguely familiar drug store.

"Well Major, I take it your boy liked the blond?" Nora grinned, pink lips spread into a devilish smile. She leaned one hip against the drug store counter. "Surprised you made it back here. You boys weren't exactly stone cold sober when you left."

"I always remember my bets, darling. I'll forget a lot but never those." Bucky laughed and set his hat down on the counter next to her. A single blond curl fell down into his eyes. "Now, what's this about makeup?"

"Oh, Major, you'll look lovely in something peachy."

[fangirl94stuff]

Phil Manansala (OM&M)

'Here you go, a nice glass of water. Should we do this on another day Phil?'

Your partner Phil looks up at you from his crouched position on the floor of your nursery surrounded by pieces of wood, bolts and screws and shakes his head while reaching out for the glass of water to take a break.

'This should have been done before I went on tour, you could go into labour at any minute y/n and our baby wouldn't have anywhere to sleep.'

You sit in the rocking chair Phil had assembled in the morning and rub your big belly, your baby being a week overdue, 'maybe they are waiting until they have a bed,' you joke.

Phil was right about the crib needing to be done before OM&M's short album promotion tour, but it kept getting delayed, only arriving a week before he came back.

Phil sighs and drinks some water, 'why did they make assembly so hard? Are we going about this the wrong way?'

You continue to rub your belly, honestly, at this point, I'm not even sure if there is a right way. But no way were we paying someone to do it for us.'

Phil nods his head in agreement, 'then what do we do?'

You smile at him, 'The only thing we can do...keep trying. Just imagine how cute our baby will look in that crib you built.'

'You're right y/n, I'm not giving up, hand me that screwdriver next to you please,' he says proudly.

You hand him the screwdriver and pick up the instruction booklet, 'Take panel four and attach it to panel three...'

It takes a couple more hours but finally, the crib is built, and you can't help but hug Phil, 'we make a good team. Give or take some communication problems along the way.'

He hugs you back, 'We sure do, but if any of the guys ask this thing went up smoothly, I'm not having them mock me after they offered to help and I turned it down.'

You put your finger on your lips, 'Your secret is safe with me. Now, all we need is this little one to pop out.'

Phil rubs your belly, 'Come out, your bed is ready, you're going to sleep so well--'

'Why did you jinx it, now the baby will be restless,' you gasp loudly, cutting Phil off before he can do any more damage. He would do the first few night duties as punishment to see just how calm a newborn baby wasn't.

'If the baby's anything like me, they'll be chill, no need to worry,' he jokes.

You roll your eyes, you couldn't wait to prove him wrong when the baby came.

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

Omg I saw that you were taking requests- how do you feel about me requesting yandere platonic Malice Link but specifically Fae!Hyrule. I imagine it would take place or at least their first encounter would be in a forest. Since it’s Malice!Link there would probably be at least some hostility at first with the reader walking a tight rope of emotions. But it basically evolves from that to subtle manipulation not even realizing it’s gone from 0-100 with hostility turned into possessiveness.

Order up!

Love this request so much oh my gods!! Hope you enjoy it~

Tw: Yandere, mentioned murder

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The forests here were quiet— and dead. It’s the best way to explain it, but to some extent one would inevitably lead you to assume another. The forest was hauntingly absent of the chitter from its animals and the wind was dead from the sky— it naturally leads one to assume that there is no life within the woods. It would’ve turned most away from making their way through the thorn bushels and further into the forest itself. Or, rather, it should’ve turned you away, you should’ve known better. Bad things happen to the people that go into these woods. But alas, the sun was high and the morning was fresh and some old maidens tale about silly fairies wasn’t going to keep you from some wild berry pie.

There was someone new in his woods. Hyrule had really thought people had learned their lessons by now. Usually the glowing red pools of malice and gloom would steer them off course far enough to walk right back into their own village. The sharp-toothed mouths in the trees drive fear into the heart of any hunter and the sensation of the yellowed eyes watching make any animal prey. And yet, the new animal sauntered through his woods, basket looped around their elbow. Their blood was untainted, it rushed through them beat by beat, the sound filling his ears. They drove his senses haywire, leaving behind a trail that he felt compelled to follow.

The bushes were full of freshly ripened berries, their skins a vibrant glossy mauve. Your basket was filled when you turned to see a person, standing wide eyed behind you. He looked pale, cheeks slightly sunken, light brown hair tousled and with a stare so intent, you felt as if you should’ve expected him to have said something. And yet he stared with unblinking hazel-blue eyes, a single fang pushing over his lip.

“Are you alright?” You could’ve smacked yourself right then. Sneaking into a supposedly haunted forest and seeing a man stare at you, and your first words are ‘are you alright’?

“No” He clutches his sides slowly, sharp nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. With no other real idea of what to do, you hold out your basket of berries —which also included some honey to preserve a few of the berries in— to which he looks inside cautiously. You get a closer look at him and see the freckles dotting his cheeks and the fact he looks dangerously thin. Your eyes catch on a violently red looking scar lining his chest, but when you shift to get a closer look, he darts back. You open your mouth to say something, and yet he’s already back within the woods.

He hated himself. Hyrule doesn’t really recall if he did before, but he most certainly does now. As it turned out, the new person prancing through his forest was not a hunter like the hundreds of others since. You did not come with iron chains and steel blades with the hopes of his death bringing honor to your name. No. You were the closest thing to acceptance he’s had in a long while. Maybe you were a fool. Maybe you were meant to s- He wasn’t meant to be saved. He cut the thought short. He was cursed now, baneful hatred blotting out his mind until he’s not sure what’s him and what’s it. He’d slaughtered the many men that came through his lands like they were no more than mice or minish. It was easy. And yet, as your hand shifted slightly while holding a basket, he bolted like he was the mouse —prey hiding from their death. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t supposed to crave to be liked. He was supposed to be hated— to be feared. It’s what kept him alive for so long. It makes no rhyme nor reason that you’d care for a cursed creature such as himself. Even if the malice didn’t rip at his skin to make scars and it didn’t taint what was once good and kind into gloomy and miserable, He still couldn’t be loved by you. He was fae. His kind was supposed to trick foolish humans and toy away with their lives. He was supposed to bend his words so you’d agree to a promise sealing your fate to some comical story book ending where he gains the upper hand. And yet, he found himself mulling over the curiosities in your eyes, the purse of your lips, the thump of your heart. All things that —down to his very anatomy— he was supposed to hate. And yet he could not bring himself to. Whatever fleshy scraps were left of his heart were reaching through the cracks in his ribs toward you. He hated it. He hated the way his heart raced when hearing your familiar father-light steps. He hated the way he bore a sharp toothy grin upon seeing your return. Those teeth were meant to cut and kill, not simply be means to an expression. He hated that the honey you left him, infused with wild berries, was so sweet. He hated it was an appeasing offering to him. Maybe to some sense you were a hunter. And what an odd hunter you were to aim for his heart in such a manner.

And yet you persisted. Weekly or so you made a good habit to leave some food for the frail man you saw. You’re not sure why exactly you felt inclined to do so. Guilt, perhaps, he looked rather shaken by you shifting slightly, the last you could do was provide him with some good meals. There wasn’t any good food aside from the plants in the forest anyway, and that wouldn’t keep someone as frail as him alive. You saw more of him. It was slow, a hand taking the food a few minutes after you set it down, a cautious look shared before he scurried away. He’d come out of whatever tree or bush he’d been hiding in before claiming whatever prize you got. And eventually he’d even sit with you as he ate. You were slow, always keeping the same distance and dropping off the food at the same bush you met him. You learned the reason why the old wives of your village told you to stay away from the forest for what may be within. There was evil within the marred roots of every sickly tree and the man in front of you, while not really a man, was sick. And yet like any sick thing the world told you to ignore, he proved he was worth saving. He gathered his own little silly silver gifts to give and kept you safe while you foraged through the night. When you ran out of ear space for the little hoops he gave you rings, all in your size and he didn’t question why you came running, clothes in hand with a mob behind you. Instead he protected you, cradling your shaking body.

His eyes, glinting yellow, bore into the crowd which chased his love right to him. It was quite a strain, he’d admit. First whispering to the weavers, spinning stories of how you’d betrayed your better judgment and was lured into the woods. To them you were cursed just as he was, and so, you were exiled to much the same fate. But you needn’t worry, you mustn’t. He knows which herbs and incantations lessen the malice’s bite. You’ll be safe here with him. Maybe not happy for a while, but it’s not like you have another option aside from him. With rings on your finger and matching curse bound in blood, he dragged you to the little den he’d prepared for him and his spouse. Not quite the storybook ending.

[mouthfullofmunson]

Pest Eddie returns! :)

This time, husband edition!!

:)

Now that you are finally “settled down” and live together it seems like almost every time Eddie takes a smoke break outside late at night he brings in some furry creature

And not something nice

Like a little kitten or a dog with no owner

Opossums, a raccoon once, once he brought in two mice, he’s brought in spiders before, grasshoppers, worms, snakes

And he tries SO hard not to take no for an answer, but after touring you for almost an hour with whatever creature he’s brought in he smiles and goes “happy wife, happy life!” And takes the monster back outside

After to get married he’s very very excited to be able to officially call you his wife

Because well, he never thought he’d be a married man!

And for the first month of your marriage anytime you’re out he’s always pulling your hand up and showing the ring off to strangers “I’ve got a wife, no thanks!” And he specifically does it to old men, especially the ones who want to stair at his with his long hair, his tattoos, and his dark clothings

Or sometimes if you lean in and wrap your arm around his or even sit back down next to him after leaving your table to run to the bathroom or something he will make sure to say loud enough “what are you doing, lady? I’ve got a wife!”

Just because he likes to embarrass you as much as he can to see your cheeks get red and apologize to everyone around you

And he always get the same reply, “you’re such a little shit” between gritted teeth

Speaking of him being a little shit

I always just kind of think of him having a career as a tattoo artist, I’m not exactly sure why, I think it’s because he likes to doodles, and it fits him pretty well

But since he’s a tattoo artist, a lot of time before bed he’s pulling out his sketch book, just thinking of ideas for his flash book or maybe sketching a new tattoo for himself, or just doodling to doodle

But he will turn the sketch book over to you, showing off a sketch of boobs in the corner of his book “guess who’s?” And he laughs, slapping his knee and giggling

And he has definitely come home before with your name covering his neck saying “look, sweetheart. Finally got something for you.” And your jaw drops, trying to figure out weather to start screaming or book a appointment to remove it

“Is that fucking real, Eddie? Do not tell me that’s real I swear to god I’ll get the divorce papers”

And he starts chuckling, shaking his head “it’s just a stencil. It’ll wash off. I just thought It’d be funny! You should’ve seen your face!”

He’s SUCHHH a pest I can’t get over it

I can just imagine him coming out of the shower before bed, usually he’s in just his plaid boxers to go to sleep but this time he comes out in your pink lace panties and he acts like nothing is different until you spot him, and he turns around showing off his ass “I think they look pretty good!”

And when you’re changing, or when he sees you naked or half naked at all really he’s snapping photos, a smile on his pretty face while he snaps as many as he can until he hears you yell “someone has to develop those, you know! They have to see that!” He rolls his eyes, laughing and snapping one last photo before shoving the camera away

And when he’s on the phone with you he either does one of two different things

He answer the phone with “how are the kids?” Really just to throw you off and annoy you

Or in the middle of you talking he will give you a deep sign “fuck baby, keep talking I’m almost there.” 9/10 times you hang up and he smiles until you call back a minute later

And the most pest like thing he does

Well when you’re out with your family and he’s getting a little bored and feeling VERYYYY annoying he will randomly stand up, with a large smile on his face (you, already in the know of what he’s about to pull is trying to yank him back down to his seat weather that be in a restaurant or in your dining room) then announced that you’re pregnant- with twins if he wants the extra shock factor

When you and Eddie announced that you were getting married your families did not believe you at all and it took the whole dinner to convince them it was true, even with the ring they were still skeptical and you knew Eddie was to blame for crying wolf so many times

Shockingly, your family still loves him

And he lovessss to lie

He will come home, trying to hide his mischievous smirk while he tells you

“Nancy got married?!”

“Dustin got suzie pregnant?!”

“You slept with Steve?!”

“Mike and eleven got eloped?!”

“Hopper and Joyce broke up?!”

“I got fired?!”

“You’re pregnant?!”

And he gets you for about 5 seconds each time before you realize he’s full of shit and you throw whatever soft object is close enough to you

Well that’s all I have for now! Thank you guys sm for the support I’ve gotten on all my pest Eddie posts! You guys really seem to love our little pest 🥹💘

If you have any pest-husband eddie thoughts, I’d absolutely love to hear them!!!

:)

[cloudninetonine]

you know what would be hilariously awesome? Imagine if you will, somehow, the chain minus player get captured, by yiga, Bandits, monsters, i don't know. Player trying to figure out how to save them, but they can't do it alone. So, couple hours later, chain is about to be executed when player comes in on epona demanding them back or else, the enemies just laugh, and taught player with a tiplcle " you and what army?"

Player whistles and suddenly koraks with sharp sticks and knifes while riding dogs, picori riding mice and birds with sowing needle swords and button shields, cuccos, fairies, blupees, and satori come marching behind player.

Dead silent as everyone is trying to comprehend what the hell they're looking at.

Player yells" CHARCH" and the army they have somehow assembled yells as they run and attack.

The chain watches the bizarre battle, player and their army are victorious and safe the chain.

This popped in my head and I couldn't stop laughing 🤣 thought I would share it, your thoughts? Chain's reactions?

THIS IS SUCH A FUNNY AND CUTE CONCEPT, PLAYER WITH A LITTLE KOROK ARMY TO SAVE THE HEROES OF COURAGE!!! I bet the men would feel a little embarassed to be caught but also impressed that Player was able to assemble such a group

Might even shut Legend up for a while PIUFGPIuhg

[surrealisticduvet]

disclaimer: this IS the fuck that old man website, right? well, these are the facts of life. nsfw headcanons below the cut.

Imagine - you're about to get it on with one of the Monkees - or should we say, silverback gorillas? It's the mid 2000s, and these boys are well into their swinging sixties. You're back at one of their places after a perfectly romantic date - in public too, which is no sweat considering they don't get recognized much these days. There's been a cup of tea or glass of wine while sitting on the couch, and it soon evolves into kissing and heavy petting. Now you've made it into the bedroom, but the night isn't over yet. None of the four are strangers to the looming dark cloud we call "performance issues," but they do handle it in very different ways.

Micky:

Micky’s quick and clever mind, the force behind your marvelous date (a fun adventure, a hole-in-the-wall place for dinner, and a perfect sunset viewing!) naturally considered this as a possibility. In fact, he expected it. Somewhere in between taking your empty glasses back to the kitchen and nipping off to the bathroom for a moment, he must've popped something from the medicine cabinet; by the time you tumble into bed (carefully!) he's raring to go. He doesn't have the stamina he used to, but he's not ashamed of it - asking you to get on top is part of the fun! After he comes, his focus shifts fully to your pleasure, even if his erection hasn't flagged. He knows that it will long before a second climax comes, so he leaves well enough alone. Aging hasn't been the sexiest experience, but it's perfectly manageable and can't stop him from having - and giving someone - a good time.

David:

He can’t say he didn’t see it coming - after the heavy dinner you shared at that fancy place downtown, and the lateness of the hour after being unable to make each dance the last, there probably wasn't much hope for him anyways. You’re in bed, halfway undressed, when you realize he's not hard yet. You don’t want to bring it to his attention, but he seems visibly frustrated so you pause and ask him what's wrong. He sighs and says a few expletives, along with a quick explanation. "It's not you, baby, it's me." You tell him you don't mind, and that you're happy to just kiss and pet and call it a night - this seems to kick him into gear a bit. You're such a fine piece, he couldn't bear to let you go to bed unsatisfied! He slips away for a pill and a glass of water. When he comes back, it takes a few minutes to work, so you go finish undressing each other and get so caught up in making out that you're caught off guard by the sudden hardness pressed against your thigh.

Michael:

Michael had every intention that this night should go perfectly well- cooking together, dinner by candlelight, a walk around the grounds to get the blood flowing again. Yet, the best laid plans of mice and men so often go astray. Lounging in bed together, kissing and touching you sweetly, he comes to realize that it's just not going to happen - the stars haven't aligned, and despite all his mental willing and his intense attraction to you, he's completely soft. You tell him you don't mind- honest! and you don't intend for it to stop you from having a good time, as long as he's still enjoying it. He reassures you that he's not put off by it, and that your attention stirs something in him - albeit, not in a practical way; his cock rests still and heavy on his thigh. You take him into your mouth soft, enjoying the delicate feeling - there's a certain thrill in it, being able to take him fully into your mouth where you would be struggling otherwise. After a long, lazy session, he pulses and comes into your mouth - you gently stroke him a few times to get every last bit. He's still soft as ever, but looks happy and sated, and asks to lie there and kiss for a while as he catches his breath. Afterwards, he gets you off on his fingers, more than making up for any disappointment for not getting to experience the legendary nine iron for yourself.

Peter:

Your evening with Peter couldn't have been much nicer - after watching his band play, you pick up a quick dinner, walk around town, and make it to his place at a reasonable time. After a cup of tea and more nice conversation, he leans in to kiss you, laying a hand on your thigh. You take it to the bedroom after a few minutes, and things seem to be going well, until he's about to enter you. He tries a few times, and although he's half-hard, it just isn't enough. He sits back, rubbing his face with a sigh - he's frustrated and embarrassed, clearly aroused but without the capacity to do anything about it for either one of you. You encourage him to lie down with you, and you touch him soothingly, stroking his chest, placing soft kisses on his cheek, petting his hair ("Sure you can, if you can find any," he jokes when you ask permission.) After several minutes, he's relaxed enough to give it another shot, this time starting much slower. He focuses on you first, making you come once before he even touches his own cock again - by now, he's fully hard and slips inside you easily. He fucks you with enough enthusiasm that you almost forget about the first attempt, and it more than makes up for it. You both lie there afterwards, laughing and panting, fully satisfied.

[styusha-10]

Sherlock Holmes was an otherworldly creature indeed. I am no man of superstition, although I vaguely remember my grandmother’s tales of daione sìth. Holmes did not distinctly resemble any of the fair folk, these light, ethereally beautiful golden-haired men and women, and yet somehow he gave the same impression. His smooth, almost catlike movements reminded me of cait-sìth and, in all honesty, during investigations he often was the very picture of a predator pursuing the prey or cat playing with mice. I could easily imagine him in the highlands of my homeland, windy and boundless, as to my mind he had the soul of Scottish winds, but I also understood perfectly well that there was no place for him anywhere except in London, hustling and bustling and pulsating with life, crimes and mysteries.

He was not completely detached from the human world, basically having an excellent understanding of human affections, related to the motives of crimes, such as love or envy, though his knowledge clearly came from prolonged observation rather than from personal experience. He was wise enough to seek my aid when something eluded his understanding, which I prefer to consider as a sign of trust on his part.

He was too theatrical or too aloof at times — traits that I mostly attribute to the eccentricity inherent in genius. He also aged much more slowly than me, but this could easily be associated with our slightly spreading ages and his lack of habit of taking anything too personally, which I am often guilty of. Although in the decade we knew each other, I turned almost half gray, and he remained largely the same, except for a couple of new wrinkles and heavier bags under his eyes.

His voice was the voice of a siren or ben-varrey and he had a natural gift of instantly capturing the attention of everyone in the room with the help of said voice and some kind of internal magnetism, which made people instinctively trust him and obey him.

And yet my favourite of his many noble traits I dedicated myself to immortalise was perhaps his benevolence. With such a mind, such power, it would be too easy to use it for evil, something we had unfortunately seen too many times. His gaze on me which I felt quite often was never heavy or insolent and had not ever bothered me. Clients — those at least who seemed nice and did not irritate him immediately — he treated with kind patience, amiable interest and generous if sometimes mannered hospitality, being rude not out of intention to offend, but simply out of his energetic, eccentric nature.

“I am afraid I have accidentally enchanted you, my dear friend", he suddenly said, somewhat sadly and apologetically, one quiet evening on Baker Street. “That kind of devotion that you show to me cannot be expected from any man under normal circumstances.”

“That kind of devotion,” I thought to myself ruefully later that night, “has nothing in common with sidhe’s enchantments.”

This is my first attempt to capture Jeremy Brett's magnificence, and I feel like I haven't done him justice, so there will probably be other takes. Also first attempt in publishing something on Tumblr and nearly first — in writing in English, so feel free to point out any mistakes.

Following a long and good fandom tradition, I consider Watson to be Scottish, hence the writing of almost all the creatures mentioned in Scots.

The cat-sith, whose existence I learned about unacceptably late and did not change anything much, is hunting in the Scottish wastelands. It has an unhealthy addiction to corpses, so it is recommended to distract him with games and riddles, as well as warmth. Doesn't remind you of anyone? However, while writing, I mostly thought about the classic sidhe, adjusted for, uh, almost everything.

I don't know myself whether he is a magical creature, think what you want. To be honest, being portrayed as a magical creature seems unfair to Holmes as a character — part of his charm for me is precisely the fact that he is human, an outstanding human being.