#such a soft and fluffy shadow puppy

[daddy-long-legssss]

thanks to the - uhhh - the wonderful string players as well for ... helping us out there 😜🎸

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[damsel-in-mistress]

Proposing a motion to the fandom to henceforth refer to the 2008 aka The Age of the Understatement era of The Last Shadow Puppets as the Shadow Puppies Era.

Everyone in favour please like and share.

[vegan-peppermint]

Frost and Flour

Pairing: Krampus!konigx reader

Cw: size kink, power play, slight cnc, breeding;

Inspired by this post.

Summery: in your village, men would dress as monsters on Christmas stealing women and children and run around the town. Your krampus had other ideas.

Did not proof read, I saw this post yesterday and tried to speed run this fic for it to be ready before Christmas. Might be bad and rushed. Will edit after new years.

Word count: 4k

The snow fell thick and soft, blanketing the jagged peaks of the mountains like a heavy quilt. The air was sharp and bracing, scented faintly with pine and the smoky warmth of wood-burning stoves. This was the village of your childhood Christmases, a place where the world seemed smaller, quieter, and steeped in old traditions. Nestled deep in the heart of the mountains, it felt like a hidden pocket of time where the modern world dared not intrude.

Traditions are the heart of the holidays, the thread that weaves magic into the season and shapes the way people celebrate. In every corner of the world, they bring warmth and wonder: streets lit up with strands of melted honey, the soft glow of advent candles peaking through the frosty windows and the -oh too comforting- aroma of cookies baking in old family kitchens.

But this village had its own unique tradition, one that set it apart from the glittering cities and quaint holiday fairs elsewhere. Here, Christmas wasn't just about warmth and cheer, it carried a shadow, a reverence for the old ways—

both enchanting and a little haunting.

When winter arrived and snow blanketed the wooden rooftops, the young people who had left for the city always hurried back to their childhood homes. So did you. This year, you came earlier than most, arriving in November to help at your family’s bakery. The holiday season brought plenty of special orders, far too much for your grandmother’s old hands to handle alone.

As your hands kneaded the cookie dough behind the counter, your mind was heavy with thoughts and debates. The life you’d built back in the States wasn’t bad—a steady job, a cozy apartment near the city center—but as the warmth of this small, close-knit community enveloped you, a cold stone pressed heavily in your chest. Before sinking any deeper, the bell on the door jingled.

"Hello! Welcome to Frost and Flour, how can I help you today?" you greeted with a cheerful smile.

The man—who, no doubt, had to bow his head to fit through the doorframe—returned the smile, his lips barely visible beneath a fluffy green wool scarf.

"Hallo," his voice came out muffled, the words soft behind the thick fabric. Snowflakes clung to his blonde hair, drifting down like sugar crystals. He shook his head with a swift motion, trying to flick them off, and the gesture reminded you of a puppy entering your shop on a snowy day.

You recognized him, yet you couldn't really match the face to the name. He was the son of the lovely, old woman living on your street, Frau Lieder. Unlike her son, who resembled the mountains that surrounded your village rather than a man, Frau Lieder was as delicate as a breeze, tiny as an ant. Even though she was always quiet and humble, she'd always sit upright and proud when talking about her son, the colonel.

"It's not too late to place an order, no?" He spoke, taking his scarf off revealing his red, frozen cheeks.

"No, not at all. Come in, come in!" You encouraged quickly running to the tap to wash your hands off. "It's really freezing outside! Would you like anything warm to drink? Coffee, or tea?"

He shook his head in refusal, but the way his frozen eyelashes trembled seemed to tell a different story. "How about a coffee? I made too much for myself already," you patted your hands dry on the apron.

The man opened his mouth to protest, but you didn’t give him a chance. Gently guiding him to an empty table, you set down the coffee before him and sat down beside him, placing your own cup next to his to ease the tension. He didn’t seem eager to speak, so you attempted to fill the silence, though your words came out a little more forced than usual.

"You came a long way, didn't you? You look like a snowman," you remarked, trying to break the ice.

He only hummed in response, a soft sound, and you hesitated for a moment before pressing on. "Want sugar in your coffee?"

"It's fine like this, thank you," he said, his voice calm but distant.

An awkward silence settled between you both, thick and uncomfortable. He looked tired so you decided to give up. Not everyone wants to chit-chat, you understood that.

"So, what do you want to order?" You got right to the point.

"Oh, Ja... I need two Stollen," he replied.

"Yeah, we can definitely do that," you said, quickly moving into a list of other things you could offer. You kept talking, listing the flavors and sweet treats, drifting in how they were made and why you made them the best. He seemed taken aback by your sudden burst, but after a while, you saw him relax. He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs comfortably, and took another sip of his coffee, the steam rising around him like a cloud. His icy blue eyes didn’t leave you as you talked, causing your words to spill faster. They were fixed on you with a piercing intensity, scanning your every expression.

"So I think you should really add the chocolate cookies- we also make them vegan if that's the case-"

"That sounds good," he finally said, agreeing to the order. You jotted it down quickly.

"Great choice, I'll throw in some samples of the others as well!" You grinned, excited for people to try your new recipes.

The cups were filled with coffee still. You lingered as much as you could, writing as to avert his eyes. What's up with people with blue eyes and staring like that? You could still feel his gaze on you as you re-read the same 5 items for the thousandth time.

You shifted in your seat, unsure of what to do with yourself. He seemed to notice, and you caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful tease.

You swallowed, trying to regain your composure. "No, just... not used to quiet customers," you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He hummed, just as you were accustomed. You stood up quickly, feeling the need to escape the weight of the silence, and found something to occupy yourself behind the counter, fiddling with a few stray utensils. The soft clink of ceramic was the only sound until, after a moment, he spoke. "You going to the Christmas fest tonight?" His voice was low, almost secretive.

"Yeah, so excited," you replied with a laugh, grateful for the change in topic. "It’s the reason I came all this way!"

"Me too," he said solemnly, and something familiar downed on you. That’s when it hit you. "You're the one dressing as Krampus, aren't you?" you exclaimed, a bit too eagerly.

The surprise on his face was brief, quickly replaced by an expression that matched your own newfound curiosity. "I—I remember you," you added, turning to face him, a rush of memories flooding back. "Last year, I brought my younger sister too—you stole her and lifted her up in the air—swinging her around. She loved it so much."

"Ah, seems like I did a shit job—kids are supposed to be afraid of me," he chuckled.

You thought about the scary outfit he'll wear tonight, the furs that will coat his big back doubling him in size. How he'll run around, stalking and shouting- you couldn't help but hope he will be chasing you as well.

"Being punished by Krampus sounds pretty good, to be honest—"

You caught yourself too late, the words already hanging awkwardly between you. Maybe if you played dead, he’d just walk away, pretend nothing happened. You refused to acknowledge what you’d said, refusing to even glance at him. Faking a heart attack or any kind of medical emergency sounded plausible—anything to escape the tension creeping up your spine. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable.

You opened your mouth but no words came out.

A Christmas miracle happened right in that moment as an elderly customer entered the shop.

"Welcome to Frost and Flour! How can I help you?" You beamed without skipping a beat, grateful you didn't have to start choking or throw yourself on the floor.

As you listened to the customer and answered his questions, you felt a heavy set of eyes pressing down on your frame. You didn't look at him again, tried really hard not to. He finished his coffee, got up, and left without saying a word. At the last possible moment, the second between the door hitting the frame, his eyes met yours for one last time. And as the door shut with a loud thud, leaving a sudden silence in its wake, you realized you hadn't asked for his name. You looked down at the empty line left at the bottom of his order and wrote:

Krampus.

The sun set down, the sky turned from blue to orange and back to blue again. You had met with some friends at the small Christmas market, wandering around the little wooden shops that lined the square. Laughter and chatter filled the chilly air as you and your friends picked up festive Christmas toys, nibbled on gingerbread, and sipped warm drinks. The air was alive with the sound of the Christmas choir, their voices drifting through the market and adding a touch of magic to the evening.

As time passed and the night grew darker, the atmosphere shifted. The carolers’ songs faded and adults began to gather around the tables, glasses in hand. It wasn’t long before Krampuses started appearing, stalking through the crowd. The sound of children screaming and running to their parents echoed through the square, while some men pretended to be brave, stepping forward to protect their girlfriends. You couldn’t help but laugh as some of your friends found themselves the prey of a particularly mischievous Krampus, who chased them with exaggerated growls, making the whole scene feel like a playful dance between fear and festivity.

"What's wrong?" Your friend asked through laughter. "Come on, why they long face?"

You suddenly became aware of your thoughtful expression and quickly excused yourself. You had been thinking about your Krampus- both embarrassed and hopeful to see him again. "You better cheer up soon, or the krampus will get you!" Another friend teased.

The air was suddenly filled with the deep, resonant thud of drums, each beat like a heartbeat pounding through the square. A group of men pushed their way through the crowd, their rhythmic movements sharp and precise, their boots striking the cobblestones with deliberate thuds. Their dance was primal and hypnotic, an echo of something ancient and untamed. Behind them, two towering Krampuses loomed, their enormous cowbells clanging with a deafening ring that sent shivers through the crowd. Draped in heavy, fur-lined cloaks that swayed with each step, their grotesque masks twisted into demonic faces that seemed to leer at anyone who dared to meet their gaze. The crowd recoiled instinctively, a ripple of nervous laughter and gasps breaking the tension as the Krampuses stalked forward, commanding both fear and awe.

The main drummer, the same one who had parted the crowd in two, struck his drum with a horrendous bang that swallowed all other noise. In unison, the crowd fell silent, their collective breath caught in their chests. Yet, despite the stillness, a distant rhythm lingered in the air—a pulsing thrum that echoed: the rapid, heavy pounding of every heart present.

Thud!

The crowed took a step back in anticipation as the Krampuses looked around hungrily.

Thud! Thud!

The beats served as a count down, a warning and threat before the krampuses will be set free. You were too mesmerized by the show that you haven't realized you were being watched.

Thud! Thud! THUD!

That's when you noticed the taller monster staying still, focusing on you. Shivers creeped unbidden down your spine, cold and sharp, leaving goosebumps as they passed. Your stomach plummeted, a hollow, twisting ache of dread settling deep within you, even before your gaze met his. You didn’t need to see his eyes to recognize it was him—undeniably, inescapably him.

The rhythmic pounding of the drums grew faster, more frantic, but the meaning escaped you, lost in the haze of your thoughts. Blurred figures rushed past, their panicked shouts blending into something you barely registered. Shoulders slammed into you, hands shoved, voices screamed, everything—the chaos, the fear, the blinding motion—blurred and faded, except for that mask. That awful, looming mask. Its hollow gaze pinned you in place, your focus narrowing until it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Then, like the sharp crack of a pin dropping onto glass, the veil lifted. The muffled roars of the crowd became deafening, the banging and fireworks thundered in your ears, and the swell of scared people pressed against you, pulling you back into reality.

Run.

The word tore through your mind, an instinct louder than the drums, louder than the crazy fantasies you had. Run. You have to run.

The adrenaline hit you in full force, blood pumping hot through your veins as your feet pounded against the uneven ground. The small, twisted streets were making it harder for you, but you didn’t dare look back—you didn’t need to. You knew he was there. You could feel it, like a cold breath on the back of your neck.

You knew in the moment you broke eye contact, the second your body shifted to flee, he was already moving. His feet swept through the mud, closing the distance with the precision of a predator. He wasn’t chasing—you realized, with a spike of fear—he was hunting.

Exhaustion hit you hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your legs felt like lead, slowing to a near halt. Your body begged for rest, and you made the mistake of glancing over your shoulder. The street was empty—silent. No sign of him, nothing but the faint echo of your own heavy breathing. As you huffed in relief, grateful for the brief moment of peace, a hand clamped down on your waist, and another shot up to cover your mouth, muffling the scream you let out instinctively.

It all happened so fast, the way he grabbed you and spun you on his shoulder as if you weighted nothing. He ran away with you through the crowds, some people cheered and others ran away in fear of being the next victim. He ran past the crowds, past the houses and the gardens. The snow was getting higher and the lights were getting dimmer as the two of you strayed further from the towns fest.

No matter how much you screamed or how many questions you'd ask, he'd remain silent, eyes straight ahead not minding you at all.

"Please, stop! Put me down!" you begged for what felt like the hundredth time.

This time, he paused. With a grunt, he hurled you onto the snow-covered ground, your body colliding with the icy surface.

"You make so much noise," he growled, his voice low and rough. "I wonder how much louder you can get."

You stumbled onto your feet but the slippery ground betrayed you as you slipped again. Above you, the massive figure loomed, his imposing horns casting jagged shadows across the snow.

Your eyes were getting watery and your lip began to tremble. You were scared- your heart thumping and body trembling, that was fear. But the excitement that grew in your stomach and the urge to rub your legs against each other were something else entirely.

"Please," you whispered as a last plea, curling up as to make yourself as small as possible.

"Don't play dumb with me, little one. You deserve to be punished, you'll take what I'll give you and say thank you," he said.

Your eyes moved frantically from his mask to his muddy boots, then up his legs to the hard erection visible through his black pants before meeting the black holes where eyes were supposed to be.

"Please," you cried out doe eyed not sure what you were begging for.

The beast fell to his knees with a heavy sound making you flinch. You tried to push yourself further, but his strong hand grabbed at your ankle harshly. He dragged you by the foot, your skirt rising up as your ass slided on the cold snow. He let go of your leg, hand moving to your inner knee, slowly dragging his nails up your thigh.

"So sensitive," he coes when your skin reacts so eagerly to his touch. You instinctively grabbed at his hand which hovered above your panties. He paused his movement, seemingly amused at your attempt. "Go on," he leaned closer, covering your body with his own, the mask mere inches from your face. "Fight back," he breathed out a threat. "Try and fight me off, little lamb."

His hand slapped your clothed pussy, the weak attempt at a stopping him completly ignored. You let out a loud moan at the sudden feeling of pain.

His calloused hand started rubbing up and down the thin fabric. The daunting realization of how wet being hunted down like pray made you hit you as the panties became drenched.

"Aren't you ashamed?" He teased, fiddling with the zipper of his pants, tugging them just enough to free his large cock. "Being violated gets you this wet, Schatz?"

You whimper and squirm trying to get away from his touch, thriwing your hands at him- scratching and grabbing at his horns and neck.

Pathetic. That’s the only word for it. You know you’re not trying to escape or fight back. No, you’re just edging him on, hoping he'll snap and take out all his built up anger on you.

He easily grabs your wrists in one rapid motion. No matter how much you'd try, pulling with your whole body and then some, his grip would effortlessly stay the same.

"I'm going to fuck you," he announced pinning your hands above your head with one hand. "You will cry and scream and plead- and you will swallow every inch I give you."

He pulled your panties to the side placing his angry tip at the entrance. In the dead of night, under the midnight sky the lewd, wet sound of his dick spreading your juices was so loud.

No waiting, he pushed himself inside your throbbing cunt splitting you open.

"F-Fuck," you plead. "T-Too big, 's too big!" Your gummy walls stretch around his girth, causing your to choke in pain. The resistance slowly fades away as your cunt leaks more with every shallow thrust as he fills you up in ways you've never thought were possible.

"You can take it," he hissed, allowing you to adjust to his size. His cock was throbbing inside of you, pulsating eagerly. "You feel that? Feel what you do to me? I'm so hard for you, Schatz. Don't you wanna make me feel good?"

"Agh~," you cry out as you feel more of his size slipping inside your wet cunt. He let's go of his tight grip bringing one of your hands down to your stomach. His hand on top of yours as he's bullying his cock inside you. You feel him moving, the buldge in your stomach rising and lowering in sync with his thrusts. He growled loudly as you spammed around his dick so soon, moaning loudly and rolling your eyes in the back of your head, finally allowing him complete access as you cum on his fat cock.

"You're the tightest cunt I've fucked in a long time," he said bringing his hands on your hips angling you slightly better. His balls were hanging on your ass and his tip was pushing twords your womb.

If you could think straight, you'd be embarrassed of cumming just from being filled, of the moans and gasps you made with every inch he gave you. But the warmth of the village is distant and the ground behind your back is freezing, you need him- his warmth- to keep the cold from swallowing you whole.

Through teary eyes, you look at him. The faint light spilling from the village clings to his mask and coat, tracing his silhouette in an otherworldly glow, as if he were carved from shadow and firelight. He is no longer just a man draped in beast's clothes;

And yet, his gaze lingers on you, heavy and unreadable, somewhere between a silent threat or solemn apology.

It started slowly, dragging his member out then pushing it back in with slightly more forced than before. Your whole body was pressed deeper into the ground, head bobbling to his increasing rhythm.

One if his hands reached up to your chest, cupping one of your breast through the cotton material of your dress, the other digging into the side of your hip. He found your hardend nipple with ease, rubbing it between his fingers. He'd pinch and drag them only to see them bounce more viciously.

"Shush," he'd scold through heavy breaths. "If you keep moaning like that people will hear you. They'll see you spread wide getting your pussy stuffed, is that what you want?"

When his words were only getting you more riled up, he'd let go of your hips moving it to your loud mouth. He fell onto of you, his heavy body crushing your smaller frame, one hand desperately pulling at your tits while the other pressing hard on your mouth. He pounded into you like a man starved, abusing your needy hole.

You looked so pretty right now, your Krampus thought behind his mask. Your face was flushed, your eyelashes sticking together from tears. Strands of hair, damp from the snow melting behind you, clung to your face, yet your eyes were hazed with pleasure. He got you like this, so pathetic and cock drunk. You tried to say something but your words were muffled.

"Shut up, just a little- a little longer longer-," he sounded desperate, a change in his steady demeanor. "You'll take all I give you, every last drop of cum- Fuck- I'll pump you full of cum, you horny bitch," he groand against your neck, thrusting into you deeper than before.

He fucked you through his orgasm, cock twitching and slaming hot cum inside your cunt, a white ring foaming where your body met.

He fucked you through your orgasm, his dick barelling into you making sure you won't spill a drop of this gift he had given you.

Your legs were shaking around him, hands dirty and tired from clawing at the ground. His chest rumbled against your own.

After he pulled out, he shoved his fingers in its place- pushing his cum deep into you. You'd lick them clean afterwards, after he pulled you back on your feet. Your eyes tried to find his behind the devil mask, as his fingers explored your mouth.

You didn't.

The night didn’t feel as cold as before, the stars no longer just wishes in the sky, but silent witnesses to everything that had unfolded. You didn’t dare move, or speak—not before he would at least. You tensed, waiting for words that never came, as he grabbed you with an eerie calm, lifting you once more, just as he had in the beginning

[obaex]

the three times duke tried to tell you something - rafe cameron

summary: rafe's dog duke starts acting differently towards you, clearly trying to tell you something that you and rafe can't seem to figure out on your own.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: short, fluffy and sweet! forever loving soft rafe ♡

The first time, Rafe noticed before you did.

It wasn't unusual for Rafe's eyes to follow you as you walked through the house, drinking you in as you wandered past him to the kitchen or back to bedroom or onto the back porch as he tried to focus on his work, fingers itching to pull you into him and toss his laptop to the side. What was unusual was his dog, Duke, following you everywhere you went.

He couldn't put a finger on when it started, but suddenly it was like you had a second shadow, Duke following your every move, his eyes trained on you or sitting patiently at your feet whenever you were stationary.

You didn't notice until you were coming out of the shower and nearly stepped on him as he sat, waiting for you just outside the shower door. "Oh! Geez, Duke! You scared the heck out of me" you said, leaning down to pat his head, much to his enjoyment.

"Hey, have you noticed that Duke has been following me around?" you asked Rafe. As if for emphasis, Duke exhaled loudly where he sat nearly on top of your feet as he looked up at you with his puppy dog eyes.

Rafe smiled and leaned over to look at his dog, "You lookin' after our girl, Duke?" Duke licked his hand in response.

The second time, Rafe was on the mainland for the day and you were walking to get the mail, Duke firmly by your side, when your neighbor who was jogging stopped to talk to you. "Hey, Y/N! Good to see you! Having a good summer?" he asked.

He tended to be a little flirtatious so you tried to keep your answers curt and casual, but before you could answer Duke growled at him. You looked down in shock to see his teeth bared, his eyes fixed on your neighbor. He normally had such a sweet and loving disposition, you couldn't remember him ever being aggressive. You were almost embarrassed as you whispered "Duke!" in surprise. He looked up at you innocently before returning a narrowed gaze to your neighbor who was edging away from you both before he took off running again.

"Duke growled at Sean today when he stopped to talk to me" you told Rafe later that night. "I swear, Rafe, something has gotten into him, I've never seen him act like that before."

"Is Sean that guy that's always hitting on you?"

"Rafe..."

"Good boy, buddy!" he said, leaning down to scratch Duke behind his ears and getting a bark in response before Rafe pressed a kiss to your cheek.

It was all fun and games for Rafe until later that week the two of you were in the kitchen making dinner and listening to music. Rafe pulled you into his arms to dance with you. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses there and tracing them up your jaw to land on your lips, catching your smile with his own. He kissed you softly and slowly as his hands traced down your waist, and then he began to tickle you, eliciting a squeal and a giggle from you as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp. Duke was on his feet and barking immediately, nudging himself between you and Rafe, and nipping at Rafe's ankles, finally causing him to drop his arms.

"Duke! Buddy! It's okay!" he said, putting his hands up in front of him in surrender as Duke stood protectively in front of you.

Rafe looked up at you, "Okay, maybe I'm starting to see what you're talking about..." he trailed off, looking down at his dog "...and I thought I was protective, what's gotten into you, huh?" Duke looked from Rafe to you and back again and barked once like he was trying to say something, both of you looking at each other in confusion.

That weekend you were curled up on the couch watching a movie, snuggled in Rafe's arms. Duke had been lying on the floor at your feet when he propped his head over the side of the couch and onto your lap.

"Hey, good boy" you whispered, running your hand over his head absentmindedly before returning your attention to the movie. He didn't give up. He nudged his cold, wet nose into your hand, into your lap, nuzzling you further and further.

"Okay, okay" you said, thinking he wanted more pets, and giving him more attention. But he was unrelenting, his entire head now resting in your lap. "Rafe, look at this. He's never this cuddly" you said as Duke came to rest his head nearly on top of your torso at this point, where he finally sat still, eyes looking up at you intently as you continued to pet him, now with your full attention.

"What is it, buddy?" you asked.

He nuzzled into your torso one more time for effect.

And that's when the lightbulb went off in your head.

"Oh my god" you said, suddenly.

"What is it?" Rafe asked, pausing the movie and sitting up quickly at your tone.

"Oh my god" you said again, popping off the couch as you ran down the hallway, Duke hot on your heels.

"Sweetheart? Sweetheart! What's wrong?" Rafe said as he got up to follow you both.

You had shut yourself in the bathroom and Rafe began knocking frantically on the door. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Silence.

"Babe, you're freaking me out. Are you okay? Please just tell me you're okay?"

"H-Hold on" you said, your voice shaking.

Rafe jiggled the doorknob, his heart in his throat. "Babe, please don't make me break this door down."

You didn't respond and Rafe let his forehead fall against the door, eyes resting on the dog sitting next to him who was pawing the door helplessly.

The minutes ticked away before, quietly, the lock clicked and you swung the door open. You had tears in your eyes and Rafe immediately cupped your face in his hands. "Babygirl, what is it, what's wrong?"

You moved to hold up your hand that held a small plastic stick with a digital window reading one word that sent Rafe's heart into a maddening flutter: Pregnant.

"What?" Rafe whispered in disbelief as he took the stick from your hand.

"Babe, are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?" he said, a smile already breaking across his face. You gestured behind you at two other sticks on the counter, nodding and smiling as tears rolled down your face.

"You're having our baby?" he asked breathlessly, "I'm gonna be a dad?" The realization crashed over him as tears welled in his own eyes and you nodded vigorously.

"We're gonna have a baby!" he said, scooping you into his arms as he peppered kisses relentlessly on your cheek and forehead, finally finding your lips and searing them with a kiss that was so sincere and soft, overwhelmed with emotion.

You could feel him breathing heavily against you as you laughed and cried together, the moment broken only by Duke barking at your feet, jumping up, wanting to be a part of the action.

taglist: @surftrips, @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @softcoremaybank, @diary-of-jj, @m-indkiller

[suraemoon]

I adored your headcanons!! Any way you would be willing to do Bucky Egan and reader relationship hcs?

John Egan Headcanons

~Relationship Edition~

🎶: Am I willing to do Bucky headcanons? Of course I am, dolly! I’m so so happy that you enjoyed the other ones I did. You adored them? I’m flattered. I adore you. I hope the ones I have cooked up are good enough. If not I’ll do more.

💋: Bucky Egan x Reader. Fluffy relationship headcanons.

Bucky loves physical touch

He follows you around whenever you ago, it’s like having a little puppy in your tracks or a second shadow keeping you company

You two are constant hand holders, you’re always hand in hand. He traces the lines of your palm, kisses each of your fingers, the back of your palm is an ideal kissing zone

He squeezes your cheeks and gives your lips a quick peck before you can even process that it happened. It’s a quick series of warmth. His warm eyes looking down at you, the warmth of his pink lips, and the warmth of your cheeks as you blush after the fact.

When you sit next to him, his hand stays on your thigh with the occasional squeeze

Sitting on his lap > Sitting in the chair next to him

He loves pulling you onto his lap. The closeness, the intimacy, the plush of your ass placed on just the right spot.

A room full of people and you’re comfy on Bucky’s lap, his arm wrapped around your waist protectively

He’s a cuddler

You two trade big spoon and little spoon.

How does a 6’2 unit of a man little spoon? Where there’s a will there’s a way.

You like to sleep in? Bucky gives your face soft and gentle kisses in the morning. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. He admires your side profile while you sleep, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the way your soft lips are parted.

Your boobs are his favorite pillow. So warm and comforting, he wants to stuff his face into them at all times.

More of an early bird? You can wake up early but you aren’t getting out of bed easily. Bucky’s arm is around your waist and it is not letting go. If you manage to get away from the grasp, it isn’t long until his eyes flutter open too. Your weight and warmth are gone.

Also...thigh riding

I mean, look at a picture of this man’s sturdy tree trunk thighs. They're the perfect size for straddling.

If you get excited about something, best believe Bucky is just as excited. Just seeing your smile and happiness is contagious for him.

You know those guys who suddenly act too cool for their girlfriends around friends? Hell no. He’s very proud of you, never ashamed. He’ll tell anyone about you.

Even a random stranger he’s getting directions from on the street. He’ll say loudly, “This is my girl right here! I’m taking her to…”

Chatting to old friends from Wisconsin about baseball and then out of nowhere, “You’ve met my girl yet?”

You were zoned out staring at his face

So, several pairs of eyes all of a sudden being focused in your direction pulls you out of your little trance after a quick “Huh?”

He’s brings you up whenever he can. “Oh, my wife is the same way.” “My wife told me about that yesterday.”

Ever since you two got married, he’s loved the fact that he can officially call you his wife to other people

That one time you went to try on dresses for yet another friend’s wedding and brought Bucky?

You come out of the dressing room and he immediately stops a sales consultant “Excuse me, ma’am. Sorry to interrupt ya but ain’t my wife gorgeous? Blue’s her color right? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her…Mhm. She says she’ll bring some more for you to try on, babe.”

It doesn’t even have to be a fancy outfit. You could come out of the bathroom after getting ready for a regular day out and you’re met with a long whistle.

“You’ve gotta do a spin, baby.”

You decide to take him on a trip to New York for the first time and this man talks a big game on how he’s gonna blend in so well. “I’m such a big Yankees fan, I might as well be an honorary New Yorker.”

When I tell you he is the most obvious tourist ever, believe me

We ain’t in Wisconsin anymore

The buildings look so much higher than they do in the pictures, he’s gotta look up and stare with wide eyes while people hurry by getting around him.

Bucky resembles one of the trees in Central Park, so he can easily cause traffic when stopped in the middle of the sidewalk

Taking him to his first Yankees game and he’s trying to explain every rule of baseball to you

Meanwhile you’re too busy focused on the big bucket of delicious popcorn he bought you before the first inning

You nod along though, pretending to know all of the different terms and player names that he’s rattling off at you

“They should put me on the field, I wouldn’t have missed that.”

If this man is going to do anything, it’s call you a pet name. Every one in the book.

But of course he has a special nickname for you that he comes up with not too soon after meeting you

Maybe it’s something you remind him of, a certain feature you have, a specific talent you possess

It’s very personalized

Bucky insists on trying to do your makeup one time because “It can’t be that hard” and you end up looking like a Ringling Brothers circus clown

The blush is bright red, the mascara is not limited to only the lashes, the lipstick is over lined to oblivion

He took a picture of you and now it’s taped to the mirror of your vanity along with a bunch of other random photos that have collected over the years

“Now when you do your makeup, you can be reminded of how horribly I did. Whenever you have to wipe something off or redo something think…wow, at least I don’t look like that. You always look beautiful, honey, even when I do your makeup.”

According to him, you don’t need makeup anyway

He loves taking pictures of you. Pin up photoshoots by the beach, candid snapshots of your relaxed resting face while you aren’t looking.

Sometimes the lighting is a little dark, maybe the photo came out a little blurry. But you’re in it, so it’s perfect.

And he’s clingy. He doesn’t like when you’re gone. If it’s been one hour, that’s three years in Bucky world.

Bucky is such a girl dad

You have your first little one and she’s so tiny swaddled in his arms, the sun shining softly through the hospital room windows

A little bit later, he’s shirtless and she’s laying on his chest

He’s whispering to her but it’s so soft, only him and his little girl can hear. The most beautiful little secrets that will stay between them forever.

You get a lot of attention post birth too

He’s thanking you, telling you how strong you are, how you’ve changed his life forever, you’re the love of his life, he loves you, he loves you, oh how he loves you

The second baby comes not too soon after the first and it’s another little girl

Baby number three is another girl

The fourth little darling has plenty of bright eyed big sisters waiting for her at home

There’s a drawer full of hand-me-downs but there is also an array of brand new stuff because every baby is her own person. They all get the same amount of preparation, dedication, love, and care..

Did he used to dream about having a son? Sure.

But girls make amazing little baseball players

And dads make amazing fairy princesses

Bucky becomes very accustomed to tea parties, glitter, sparkles, and having his nails sloppy painted

Eyeshadow used as blush, contour, and foundation all in one

He doesn’t tolerate anyone who makes a backhanded comment about his girls

One day, you got back from taking the kids to the grocery store

The moment you see Bucky, all of your Egan girls run to hug him

It’s not long before he has two little girls clinging to each of his legs, one with her arms around his neck, another holding his hand with no intent of letting go

You quietly recounted to him later in the day how the grocery store cashier remarked upon glancing at all the pink, “Your poor husband. You refuse to give him a boy, huh?”

Bucky was ready to drive to the grocery store and give that worker a piece of his mind

He has healthy, happy kids. What’s there to be poor about?

(Years later, when you two thought you were officially done having kids, the pregnancy test is positive. It’s a little boy. He’s the baby of the family and so much like his dad.)

Another lucky girl gets her own Egan to cherish!

Bucky is protective of his family, even before little Egan’s got added to the family, he’s always been protective of you

If someone ever bothers you, makes you uncomfortable or says something bad about you, he has to confront them

even if you insist to him over and over that it’s no big deal

He keeps you so close to him not only because he cannot imagine being too far away from someone as amazing as you,

I mean, you smell fantastic

also that dress fits you so well

and your smile makes him lightheaded

your voice is so soothing

Wait what were we talking about? Oh yeah…he’s protective. He keeps you so close because he cannot fathom something happening to you.

You can accidentally trip over your own feet and Bucky will find a way to blame himself

Something fell on the floor and you stumbled over it, Bucky should have seen it and picked it up before you had the chance to even get close enough to fall

Bucky’s a man who lives off of reassurance

He loves praise

But he’s not aware of how much he needs it, how much he thrives off it

A compliment will make this man’s day

Reassure him of how amazing he is

Tell him how good he is and how lucky of a girl you are to have him because you are so so lucky

He values your opinion, so your compliments mean so much more than anybody else’s

Every anniversary he writes you a love letter

Always so heartfelt, detailed, and meaningful

He talks about all the reasons why he fell in love with you and continues to fall in love with you every single day he breathes

All the little quirks and habits that you don’t pick up on, but he adores

Maybe something you did the same day he wrote the letter and it’s so fresh in his mind that he has to talk about it

Something special that happened that year

A baby that was born, a trip you went on, and special event, a funny moment, a specific date, something you said to him this year that he continues to think about all the time

Anything that comes to mind

They collect over the years and you put them in a pretty little keepsake box

When you eventually pass on, all of his letters are buried with you

What makes Bucky frustrating sometimes is the fact that he doesn’t like to talk about what he is feeling

He’ll claim he’s fine when something is clearly bothering him

He’ll walk away from an argument declaring that he “doesn’t care anymore” and “you can do whatever you want”

but the reality is he does care

He just hates to yell around his wife, let alone yell at her. It makes his skin crawl.

Bucky lets all the feelings build up inside but just his facial expression alone can tell you that he isn’t alright

And it leaves you feeling confused because why doesn’t he trust you and confide in you enough to communicate?

It’s late at night when you two resolve the conflict

His voice is soft and it takes you by surprise

In situations like these, you always wait for when he’s ready to talk

And when he does his voice is always so small and broken

All is forgiven, all is resolved, everything always ends up okay

No small disagreement or petty argument can break you two apart

Don’t tell Bucky that you are ever insecure about something because he will be utterly appalled

You’re a goddess to him, he worships every single inch of you

Whenever you take your clothes off, he’s taking in all of you with adoring eyes and a parted mouth

Every curve, every beauty mark, every stretch mark

It all comes together to make the perfect picture

He loves the way he fits so snug inside of you, the way you taste, the way your noises blend so perfectly with his to make the most beautiful of melodies

Every moment with you is heaven

How did he go so long without you? He thinks about that often.

His heart has never been so full of love, his mind has never been so full of hope

You two complete each other in every way

He was the first to say “I love you”

You were taken back at first because a man who’s so magnetic, charming, handsome, likable, the center of attention in any room he’s in

He’s in love with you

Little did you know he was just as taken back to hear you say “I love you too, Bucky”

He remembers the first time he saw you across a room and how his eyes immediately gravitated towards you

He remembers how nervous he was to talk to you, which was so unlike him it was scary

Maybe his hands were shaking just a little, tapping his foot to a nonexistent beat, a never fading smile on his face

And over the years the two of you exchange thousands of “I love you”s

You can talk for hours on end about nothing “important”

Chatting about the random topics that pop into your minds, asking to be discussed

Accompanied by matching glasses of wine

Those conversations are your favorite because it’s a little bubble with you and the one you love, nothing else matters

————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed reading and I hope it was alright lol

If there’s any specific requests or anything I didn’t touch on that has you wondering “how did she miss this?” please let me know, lovey

Ahhh I love Bucky so much

[celestialprincesse]

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝐓𝐰𝐨

Pt2 to this Nik x Hyperfem!reader because I couldn't leave it alone and it's been gnawing at the back of my brain all day

You don't hear the first knock at the door. It's no surprise with the way you're wrapped up in the blissful comfort of your own little world. Being able to tune out to the soft sound of your playlist, the feeling of gently applying your favourite lotions and creams, the moisturiser you'd spent far too much on that leaves you smelling like coconuts and caramel. The second knock snaps you from the pretty pink haze you've drifted into, sending you bounding down the stairs, not even bothering to check the peephole as you fling open the front door.

It's him. He has your plate in his hand, the sharlotka plate, and not only is it clean, but it bears a slightly odd, misshapen cake. You look up at him with hopeful confusion. "I brought you back the plate." He states, as though you're blind, or just stupid. "I can see that." Your attempt at a dismissive, uninterested tone, falls entirely flat when you look up at him like an eager puppy. "I also made cake." Said cake looks distinctly like an attempt at a Victoria Sponge, although you're not quite sure.

Under his scrutinising look, you can't help but rock on your feet in your impractical little shoes. He barely manages to refrain from scoffing at the sight of them. "Would you like to come in?" Nikto's eyes hone on the way you open the door just slightly wider in a tentative invitation.

Barbie would recoil at how girly your house is. It's pink and frilly, gauzy with satiny ribbons and bows on everything. He feels so incredibly wrong here, like he'll stain your fluffy white carpets with blood, darken the soft lamplight with the shadows that cling relentlessly to his back. "Would you like some tea?" You mumble, indicating a nervous hand to your pink smeg kettle as though to prove the authenticity of your offer. "Do you have Russian Earl Grey?" "Uh -" You mutter as you root through your cupboards, filled with all sorts of fruity infusions. "I only have regular."

The two of you sit quietly around your dining table and whilst you sit forking pieces of crumbly, somehow simultaneously soggy, Victoria sponge into your mouth, Nikto sits there trying to find a way to drink his tea without showing you his face. "I am sorry." He murmurs softly, having stewed for the last week about how foolish he'd been in treating you so dismissively. It hasn't helped that he's fucked his hand every night for the past seven days at the image of you and your silly little doll clothes in his head. "If you would still like to, I would like to take you for a meal."

Temporarily fixing their situation!! like using pink glitter glue on the cracked hull of a ship!! 💕

[oneshotnewbie]

Hey, could you please do a amelia shepherd x fem!reader where the reader is jealous because of Edwards and Amelia, and Amelia then reassures her that she only loves her etc...

and could you make it super fluffy please?

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sun's rays fell through the windows of a treatment room and bathed it in a warm, calming light. In this room, usually filled with hectic activity, there was an unexpected silence that morning, in which you had briefly retreated. You sat on a swivel stool, arms crossed and your gaze turned outside to nature as you thought about the events of the last few weeks.

A feeling of deep jealousy was gnawing at you, and it was hard to ignore. You couldn't help but feel neglected as you watched Stephanie Edwards, the surgical assistant, roam almost every corner of the hospital with Amelia, your partner, like a little puppy. It seemed as if the two of them were merging like inseparable shadows, and this closeness made you uneasy.

You tried to convince yourself that it was just a passing phase, that Stephanie was simply supporting Amelia and soaking up what she knew, but the fire of jealousy inside you still burned brightly. Every time you saw the two of them together, it felt like someone was tugging at your heart and you couldn't shake the nagging doubts.

A sigh escaped your lips as you turned away from the window and slowly strolled out through the hallway to the lounge to get yourself another coffee before plunging into the crowd of patients. When you opened the door to the lounge, you saw Amelia and Stephanie sitting at the table, their heads hunched close together as they discussed medical cases. Another hint of unease passed through you as you saw Stephanie encouraging your friend, agreeing enthusiastically with glistening eyes.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to step closer to join them. But even as you sat down, you couldn't stop a feeling of separation from spreading between you and the brunette. It was like you were an outsider in your own relationship, and that made you even sadder.

"What are you talking about?" You finally asked, your voice sounding a little stiff as you sat down next to Amelia and forced a smile. The neurosurgeon and the assistant raised their eyes and the brunette smiled lovingly at you. "Oh, we were just talking about yesterday's interesting case. Dr. Edwards has some great ideas."

Stephanie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, it was really fascinating. I think we could try a new approach that could help the patient."

You nodded curtly, trying to hide your jealousy. But even as you tried to be happy for the patient, you felt like a stranger. It was as if Stephanie Edwards was always present, always standing between you, and it was eating away at your trust.

When the door to the lounge opened and a nurse asked you to come to an urgent emergency, you took the opportunity to move away from Amelia and Stephanie. But even though you were busy now, you couldn't shake the feeling. It was like a cloak around your heart and soul.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The operation had been long and demanding, and Amelia felt exhausted when she finally left the hospital and headed home. However, despite being tired, she couldn't stop thinking about the entire situation with you. Something was wrong, she felt it clearly, and she could no longer ignore the fact that a distance had grown between you.

As she opened the door to her home, she heard soft music playing in the living room and the sound of the dishwasher in the kitchen. Youu were already home, that´s why she hadn't found you in the hospital and Amelia breathed a sigh of relief before taking off her shoes and making her way to the living room.

You sat on the sofa, a book in your hand, but the brunette immediately noticed the tension in your shoulders and the hidden sadness in your eyes. Her heart clenched painfully as she realized that she might have been to blame for how you were feeling. You had neglected her while she was immersed in work with Edwards.

“Hey,” Amelia said quietly, sitting down on the sofa next to you. "Everything okay?"

You looked up, a faint smile on your lips, but the neurosurgeon could tell it was forced by you. "Yeah, everything's fine," you replied, putting the book aside. But she knew it wasn't true. She could feel the tension between you, the unsaid feeling that lay between you like an invisible barrier. "No, everything is not okay. I can see that something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

You hesitated for a moment before finally nodding. "It's about... Edwards," you began hesitantly and her heart suddenly seemed to beat faster when she heard the name. She had suspected that Edward's sudden closeness to her had unsettled you, but she had hoped it would only be temporary. "What about her?" Amelia asked quietly, aware of the problem but wanting to hear your side.

You lowered your gaze before continuing. "It's... it's hard to explain. But I feel insecure when I see her, how much time you two spend together. It's like she's standing between us, and I feel like an outsider in our own relationship when we are at work or you go to the bar with her to discuss other cases instead of being with me," you spoke quietly and you looked at her sadly. "It's not your fault, Am. I know you work hard and you just want to help Dr. Edwards. But... I just can't shake this jealousy and it's driving me crazy."

The brunette sighed and wrapped an arm around you before gently pulling you closer to her. "I promise you that I make our relationship a priority and that I don't want it to come between us. I will take more time with you to close this gap between us."

You leaned into Amelia's embrace, letting a moment of relief wash over you. It felt good to finally be able to reveal your feelings and an aura of calm enveloped you as you held each other close.

Amelia smiled as she looked down at you, your face lit up with a bright smile. She could see the love in your eyes that shone through the sadness and there was nothing better for her than being able to hold someone she loved in her arms. Amelia knew that, like always, she would keep this one in her heart forever.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, placing a kiss on your hair. "I never wanted you to feel neglected." You rested your head on her shoulder and sighed in relief as she turned to you, placing her fingers under your chin before placing a gentle kiss on your lips there too. "But let me assure you that you are the most important person in my life. I love you more than anything in this world, y/n, and nothing will ever come between us."

You looked deep into her eyes and in that moment you felt the connection between you. "Really?" You whispered, your voice full of hope as your body pressed perfectly against hers.

Amelia smiled and brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Yes, really," she explained in a quiet voice that was full of tenderness. "I want to spend my future with you, have children, raise a big family and enjoy every moment with you. You are my soulmate and I want to have you by my side forever."

You felt your heart overflowing with happiness and you couldn't help it as you hugged her even tighter as if you never wanted to let her go again. "I love you so much, Amelia. And I want nothing more than to be with you forever."

And in that magical moment, embraced by the love and certainty of your future together, Amelia and you knew that you were forever connected, through all of life's ups and downs. Because your love was strong, unwavering and meant to last forever.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Pavia x Human! Reader (Headcanon/s) Brainrot

A/n: My first Reverse 1999 Brainrot! I hope you like it! I've been thinking about who to make first and I decided to make my first main, Pavia! I love this feisty little man. The Navigation List for Reverse 1999 will come soon! ૮ ˶ᵔ ��� ᵔ˶ ა ─────❅───── Genre: Fluff/Suggestive Pairing: Pavia x Human! Reader Warning: SUGGESTIVE, cussing, Pavia (He gets his own warning) Scenting, Marking. Pet names (cucciolata means puppy) Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Reverse 1999 art. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers!

Masterlist ─────❅─────

Pavia who would often end up nuzzling your neck and pulling you closer after a rough day of doing his "mixed" works, either escorting a target, killing the target, or transporting goods with his wolves.

Pavia hates heavy workloads, if you were someone who's a workaholic, be ready cause if he saw you working ON weekends or working too hard on weekdays especially since Monday to Wednesdays are his chill days, he'd have a scowl on his face that you probably won't notice cause you're too focused on your task. Pavia is literally right there and you don't want to pay attention to him? fine. he'd drag you away from your pesky computer and flop you on his lap, opening the TV to watch some shitty show or whatever, all he knows is that if this gets you to spend time with him, he'd watch any stupid show you want. If you complained he'd shove a piece of gelato in your mouth, the good ones, and say "Shut up, you're working too hard," he caresses your arm his metal rings gliding on your skin before he places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer so that you rest your body on his. "Take a rest cucciolotta"

Pavia's wolves would also be a part of your lives, every day, Peter, Andrea, Maleficent, Tonika, and Leona would scent you; their scents are all part of Pavia's scent, so he never minded. They are all protective of you, after all, you're Pavia's mate, and they value everything their owner values. Usually, Pavia has them follow you under your shadows, and the ones volunteering would be Peter, Andrea, and Tonika, The other two, Maleficent and Leona, are responsible for updating Pavia if you're in danger, he trusts that his wolves could handle whatever his enemies can throw at you, but the audacity to even try it though? he finds it laughable that they had the balls. Expect to see their possessions in Pavia's cabinet once you're safe.

Every night, once you're in bed with Pavia, they will often go out in the shadows to cuddle you two, be prepared for fluffy voids!

Pavia is canonically a very light sleeper, while he finds it weird why you sleep so damn long, as long as you catch up on your rest, he guessed it's fine, you got a bodyguard for a boyfriend, for free too, you're lucky. He'd usually sleep for just 3 to 4 hours but never fully 8 hours, you wonder how he survives with that sleeping schedule, then again he's an arcanist and you're human.

Pavia has a soft spot for you, although that doesn't change his treatment of you, he will always be blunt and brash when you're being stupid and reckless. He'd be the type to ground you to reality (surprisingly) if he finds that whatever plan you thought of was a literal dream, and by dream, it's not possible to achieve. If you're irrational, he'd be rational with you, imagine if you tried to suggest a stupid plan that could get you hurt, he'd look at you with an incredulous face before saying "That's a shitty plan, let's not do that if you don't wanna lose a limb.", but if it's vice versa, he wouldn't usually listen to you, heck he'd argue with you sometimes; especially if the plan was smart, just reckless, However if you start using your waterworks, he'd stiffen up, cause you crying means he's been a bad boyfriend and he doesn't like that; he'd grumble a bit before letting you win. he won't do the thing he was planning to do.

Pavia as a boyfriend means your life will be in constant thrills, he likes to see you shiver when he threatens you, what I mean by that is if you tried to ask him a simple question, especially regarding his hairstyle, he'd say that it would look great if you were pulling it, he'd be so touchy on you that he'd nibble on your ear just to whisper naughty things. telling you how his hands would fit your neck and how you'd look great withering underneath him. Suffice to say he's a biter and someone who enjoys it rough. Speaking of hands, Pavia enjoys having his hands all around you, as I mentioned before, the reason why is because he loves his hands! they're good for killing and making you squirm under him, it's also slightly bigger than yours, and he loves that, he likes to overpower you with his strength, especially if you're the type to get easily overwhelmed by it. You're like a prey that he keeps around just because he got attached to you.

Pavia likes to steal stuff from you. He likes to use excuses such as "you don't use it" or "I find it pretty" The reason why he does this is because he has a cabinet filled with your stuff, either a broken ballpen, a handkerchief whatever, if it's yours he keeps it, he just likes to hoard, just like how he likes to steal your attention if he finds you focusing on something else (he's very much like a dog and cat mixed together, or maybe a wolf?)

Pavia is unfortunately a bit easy to scam, although who would scam him? He's intimidating, he's the type to stare into a seller's eyes as if he could see into their souls. But if someone like Tennant for example, a person who knows their way into killers like him, as long as they use their words right they could get his money an example of this are people who speak in half-truths and half-lies; since Pavia is someone that could easily detect lies, he usually cannot tell if that person is lying or not when they're using that method. If he found out though that he got scammed when you told him, he will hunt down that asshole and make sure they never see the light of day.

Pavia is the type that when you wear something sexy for him or for an event, he'd whistle and leave a mark either on your exposed shoulders or neck, he's the type of boyfriend that would support you with whatever clothing you'd like, cause if someone even dares to sexualize you, he can fight.

Pavia has a sad backstory if you manage to break down his walls, he's still the same old as he was before all of that jazz except with a little extra love for you since you took the time to get to know him. He'd allow himself to be vulnerable around you, sharing stories from his past. He's the type who may not even realize the extent of the abuse he endured till you point it out, in which, he'd laugh and dismiss it as "Tough love from my aunt"

[alittleplaytime]

Hello :3 do you pet regress to a puppy? If so, do you have any tips for beginners who don’t have any gear? Thank you! <3

hi anon! i do puppy regress, it's my most common petre!

i personally don't have any gear either! my tips for regressing in a puppy mindset with gear:

grab blankets and pillows and turn your bed into a "dog bed" - i like building blankets up into a circle and then filling the center with pillows!! super cosy and easy to curl up in <3

in place of a collar or anything like that, i use a bandana! i tie it around my neck (be careful it's not too tight!) and it serves the purpose of being my puppy collar! you can also use a necklace, i'd recommend a material choker or a shorter necklace

eat biscuits!! they're like dog treats but for us!! my favourites are ones that are more rectangular, like arnotts milk coffee and malt-o-milks!

dress in fluffy/fuzzy clothes! fleece hoodies and soft pj pants are great!! i also love wearing slippers because it makes my feet fluffy too!!

follow along to a puppy training video!! theres lots on youtube and they're usually very easy to follow :) i like the basic, beginner puppy range where it goes throug commands like sit, stay, lie down and roll over :3

make up!! this one may be harder for masculine regressors or regressors who don't use/don't have make up but i use a darker shade of eye shadow to colour the tip of my nose and upper with a little line going up to connect the two! it makes me look like i have a snout :3 (please double check that your eye shadow is lip safe! not all eye products are safe to be used on your lips!!)

[vermilionsun]

Hi hi! I’d like to ask for some hcs for Ais, Vere and Leander (separate, if 3 charas aren’t allowed then just Ais and Vere, please!) who’s s/o has a tiny dog (like a toy poodle size) and the doggo just adores the LIs? Thank you :]

Toy Poodles are so cute 😭

Ais

✩ Ais raises a brow as the little puppy comes up to him wagging its tail.

✩ He looks down at the puppy and chuckles before looking back at his s/o. “Yours?”

✩ Ais looks slightly confused but he squats down bends down and lets the puppy sniff his hand before picking it up from the ground and holding it in his arms, running his hand through its fluffy fur.

✩ The puppy barks and wiggles around in his arms, rolling over onto its back, panting happily as he pets it. “Hm, it's cute… What's its name?”

✩ From that day onward, Ais found himself enjoying the puppy's company, even though he wouldn't show it. He'd secretly feed it treats behind your back and even play with it when you weren't looking, still keeping up his nonchalant facade.

✩ He was over at your place a lot more now, the puppy had grown attached to him (and so had he).

✩ The puppy seemed to absolutely adore him, following him everywhere like a little shadow and always coming back to him for affection and cuddles.

✩ Ais even started referring to it as 'his' puppy when he didn't think you were around, but again, he'd never admit it to you directly.

✩ Ais found himself talking to the puppy, though he'd pretend he was just "mumbling to himself", asking it how it's day was and telling it secretly how cute he thought it was. Despite his rough exterior, he had a soft spot for the little ball of fur.

✩ Princess, despite her initial dislike of it, actually softened up a bit upon meeting the puppy. She'd watch from a distance as Ais interacted with the puppy, often joining in on the fun.

✩ Ais would occasionally let the puppy sleep beside him, pretending he didn't mind the extra company.

✩ He even started giving it little nicknames.

✩ If you ever caught him, he'd quickly turn away and pretend he wasn't doing anything.

✩ “I've only known it for a day and a half, but if anything happened to it, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

Leander

🗡 Leander's eyes light up as he sees the puppy

🗡 “Well, aren't you just the cutest little furball. What's your name, little one?”

🗡 He crouches down to the puppy's level and gently sticks out his hand for the puppy to sniff. “You are just the cutest little thing, aren't you? Is it okay if I give you a pat?”

🗡 The puppy starts bouncing around his feet, its ears flopping around. “You're quite the playful one, huh?” Leander chuckles and pats the puppy gently on its head, careful not to be too rough, scratching the puppy behind its ears. “Oh, you like that, don't you? You're a little bundle of energy, aren't you?”

🗡 Ever since that day, Leander and the puppy became i n s e p a r a b l e.

🗡 The man fell completely in love. Absolutely smitten. He treats the puppy like royalty, like his own child.

🗡 The puppy would follow him everywhere and Leander would dote on it constantly, spoiling it with treats and toys, playing with it, taking it for walks, teaching it tricks. and even including it in his daily activities.

🗡 Leander's s/o would often find them curled up together, the puppy napping in his lap as he worked, or them playing tug-of-war with a favorite chew toy in the back alley of the Wick.

🗡  He loves showing off her skills to everyone, proudly calling it his little "accomplished companion."

🗡 Leander finds himself more lighthearted when he's around the puppy, his usual demeanor softening in its presence.

🗡 Leander even began weaving the puppy into his magical practices, using it as a source of inspiration and energy that allowed him to focus his power more effectively.

🗡 He would talk to the puppy as if it understood him, telling it about his day and his troubles, finding solace in having someone to talk to, even if that someone had four legs and a wagging tail.

🗡 “—nOT IN FRONT OF MY CHILD–” *covers its ears with his hands*

🗡 Now you have two entities begging for your attention with puppy eyes.

Vere

✦ Vere's attention is immediately stolen by the adorable ball of fluff.

✦ "Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing? Look at you, all tiny and precious!"

✦ He crouches down to get a closer look, his gaze studying the puppy with genuine affection. He reaches out his hand, making soft clicking noises to get the little puppy's attention.

✦ "Come here, you adorable little fluff ball. Let me see those big, beautiful eyes."

✦ The puppy, sensing Vere's energy, begins to wag its little tail and bounce around excitedly. It looks up at Vere with glossy eyes, its tiny tongue sticking out as it lets out a melodic yip.

✦ A soft chuckle escapes Vere's lips, heart melting at the sight of the little canine. "Oh, you're just so full of life, aren't you? Just a little bundle of joy and cuteness." He extends his hand further, gently patting the puppy's head and stroking its soft fur.

✦ Vere becomes enamored with the little puppy. He takes every opportunity to shower the tiny canine with affection.

✦ The puppy, in turn, becomes incredibly fond of Vere. It becomes his constant companion, eagerly bouncing by his side whenever he's around, jumping on his lap whenever he sits down, curling up against his chest for cuddles and naps, licking his face.

✦ “See darling? It’s obvious it loves me more!”

✦ Vere spends countless hours playing with the puppy, rolling around on the floor, tossing small toys for it to fetch, engaging in lighthearted wrestling matches and even trying to teach it a few tricks.

✦ During quiet moments, Vere would sit with the puppy in his lap, gently petting and scratching behind its ears. The pup would bask in the attention, nuzzling against him and licking his fingers affectionately.

✦ As time passed, Vere's usual aloofness and reserved demeanor melted away whenever the puppy was around. He would find himself laughing more often, his icy demeanor replaced by a softer, more carefree attitude

✦  He seemed to forget his own troubles in the presence of the puppy's innocent exuberance. Late-night strolls become a regular occurrence, with the puppy trotting alongside him, its paws pattering against the pavement.

✦ One day, Vere finds himself sitting on the floor, surrounded by a chaotic mess of toys and snacks. The puppy is sitting right in front of him, nibbling on a chewy toy and playfully tugging at one of his shoelaces. As Vere watches the puppy's antics, a sense of contentment washes over him. He realizes that he never had something so pure and real in his life before. The puppy doesn't care about his past mistakes or hidden truths. It simply loves him.

✦ “Ah, yes, this is my partner in crime. Don’t you dare touch it or not even Kuras will be able to heal you.”

[dracoxsworld]

I told you so. - Draco M. x Reader

Summary: Reader drags Draco outside in the winter time to build a snowman, but ends up starting to get a cold. How will Draco take care of you?

warnings: none!

I got this prompt from this generator

“Come onnnnn, Draco!” You begged your boyfriend, dragging him down the castle hall.

“Y/N, it is way too cold.” Draco groaned.

“But we’re wearing so many layers! We will be fine! Pleaaaaaseeee,” You whine, clasping your hands together, begging.

“We’re going to catch a cold!” Draco exclaimed. You puckered your bottom lip, and batted your eyelashes. Draco furrowed his eyebrows at you and took a big deep breath through his nose, and exhaled. “Fine.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Draco ran out into the field of fluffy white snow, you kicked it up in the air, scooped some up in your arms and threw it upwards. Draco ran after you, trying to gather snowballs on his way, making them compact.

Before Draco could make his aim, you pelted one right in his face. “Gotcha Malfoy!” You laugh out loud, pointing to his snow covered face. His hands covered with dark green mittens his mother knitted for him wipe off the sparkly white snow off his now cold, red face. He immediately comes towards you, smiling from revenge. You scramble upwards and start running, but Draco is too quick. He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up.

“Draco! No! Please! I’m- sor-sorry!” You say, laughing from both fear, and excitement. “Too bad, you asked for it!” Draco replied maliciously. He tossed you into a big pile of snow, you went flying with a big landing into the soft snow, like a cold pillow.

You have trouble getting unstuck from the snow, like a turtle stuck on it’s back. Draco walks up to you, his shadow covering you. “Would you like some help?” He suggests. You pout at him. “Please,” you beg. He sticks out his mittened hand and you take it, he yanks you out of the snow.

You start rolling snow into a ball. “Watch it, I’ll pelt you again!” Draco threatened, putting his hand up in defense. “Easy, tiger.” You tease. “I wanna build a snowman with you!” You huff as you continue to roll the snowball, slowly growing bigger. “It’s cold, y/n. Your nose is red, we should go inside before you catch a cold.” Draco said, watching you work. You stop rolling your snowball that is now up to your knees and look at your boyfriend who has snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes. “Draco please, I promise once we’re done with this we will go inside, I feel fine,” You plead with him. You pucker your lower lip at him, and give him the biggest puppy dog eyes possible. Draco groans and rolls his eyes.

“If you’re sick…”

“I’m not sick! I won’t get sick.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You and Draco finish the snowman with perfect pebble buttons, a potato nose (you couldn’t find a carrot) and pebble eyes. You both stand in front of your frozen admiring it. “Let’s name him… Nelson.” you decided. Draco scoffed at you. “Nelson.. please don’t tell me you’re going to name our future son Nelson.”

“Of course not.” You assure him. “I’m gonna name him Hermes.” You joke. Draco’s head snapped in your direction. “You’re joking, right?” He asked seriously. You let out a laugh and playfully push him. “Obviously.”

You both laughed until you were interrupted. “Achoo!” You sneezed. Draco’s smile immediately dropped. “Y/f/n.”

“It’s just a sneeze, Draco!” You exclaim as he picks you up over his shoulder.

Draco takes you to his dorm room and flops you onto his big, comfy bed. He helps you take off your snow boots, parka, and thermal undergarments. He gives you a big, comfy, soft hoodie of his with his quidditch number on the back. He gives you a pair of boxers to wear as shorts. “Get under the covers and stay there. I’m going to get you soup.” Draco demanded. You nod and cozy underneath the covers. You can feel your eyelids getting heavier. All of a sudden you start dozing off. Just as you hit a deep sleep, his dorm room door swings open. Your eyes shoot open and see your boyfriend come in with a tray with tea, honey, sugar cubes and soup.

“You know, I love me a good ‘I told you so.’ But you’re sick, so I won’t.” Draco said while mixing honey and sugar into your tea.

“Go ahead.” I said, congested.

“With what?”

“Tell me you told me so.”

“Nah; I’ll let you off the hook. My poor baby is sick.” Draco said sympathetically.

You insisted you were able to eat on your own, but Draco insisted even more to help you. He fed you, had you drink tea, and wrapped you in a big blanket.

You are cocooned in the blanket, laying on his chest.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes Draco?”

“I love you.” He said simply, his hand trailing up and down your spine.

“But I told you so.” He added, with a small chuckle.

[juliussilver25]

The Reporter and the Wrestler

Mack, a seasoned investigative reporter, caught wind of whispers about a new, secretive football team. Curiosity piqued, he decides to follow the trail. His sources are cryptic, but persistent rumors lead him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

As dusk settles, Mack watches from a distance as men in sleek, silver jerseys slip into the warehouse. He follows them, keeping to the shadows, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Inside, the warehouse has been transformed into a state-of-the-art silver locker room. The players move with purpose, their conversations low and urgent. Mack strains to catch snippets of their dialogue, piecing together a story that goes beyond the typical football narrative.

He notices the unusual equipment, the advanced training regimens, and the palpable sense of secrecy. This isn’t just a football team; it is something more—perhaps an elite group with a hidden agenda. Mack’s mind races with possibilities as he scribbles notes and takes video, determined to uncover the truth behind this clandestine team.

His investigation has only just begun, but one thing is clear: this story will be bigger than anything he has ever reported before.

After some time the locker room empties. Mack thinking it is safe comes out of the shadows and begins looking around more closely. Silver jerseys are scattered across the floor, their silver fabric shimmering under the flickering lights. Near the jerseys the air is thick with a strange, hypnotic scent—musky, almost metallic, and undeniably alluring.

As Mack inhales the intoxicating aroma, he feels a peculiar tingling sensation. His clothes, once standard boring blues and browns, begin to shift, morphing into the same silver color that adorn the jerseys. Panic mingles with fascination as he watches the transformation.

The compulsion to touch the jerseys grows overwhelming. Almost involuntarily, Mack finds himself tearing off his shirt and jumping into the pile, the cool, smooth fabric of the jerseys caressing his skin. He rolls over them, his senses overwhelmed by the scent and the feel of the material. The world around him blurs, the hypnotic smell lulling him into a state of dreamy euphoria.

As he continues to roll and play he inhales more and more deeply. Mack’s thoughts became clouded, a singular purpose taking root in his mind: to become part of this secretive silver team. The once-clear line between observer and participant blurs, and he feels himself slipping into a collective consciousness, his individuality fading.

Each breath seems to draw him deeper. The world around him a blur he feels a strange transformation taking hold. His limbs begin to tingle, muscles shifting and bones realigning. His hands and feet morph into paws, and a soft, furry coat sprouts across his body. His senses heighten, and he feels an overwhelming urge to please and protect the silver team.

By the time the transformation is complete, Mack has become the new mascot for the team—a loyal, energetic puppy. The once-curious reporter now finds joy in his new role, bounding around the locker room, bringing smiles and laughter to the players.

His new life is a whirlwind of excitement and devotion. However something, no someone is missing, his roommate, no his master Jueun

The team brings their mascot back to his apartment to await the return of Jueun.

After a tough day on the mat Jueun, a university wrestler who dreams of being a welterweight wrestler, drags himself back to his apartment, feeling defeated after losing another match.

Opening the door, he is surprised to see a fluffy, energetic puppy bounding towards him wearing a silver American style football jersey.

Jueun is pissed. He does not want an animal in his apartment. Mack, sensing Jueun's gloomy mood, immediately starts wagging his tail, pawing at Jueun's legs and jumping up at him. Despite himself, Jueun can’t help but smile. The puppy's infectious energy is impossible to resist. Before long, Jueun finds himself on the floor, laughing as Mack playfully tugs at his shoelaces and licks his face.

The small moments of joy with Mack begin to ease the weight of his recent losses. Rolling on the floor, playing fetch, and feeling the unconditional love from the puppy starts to lift Jueun's spirits.

The cozy living room becomes their playground as they toss a football back and forth, Mack's agility and enthusiasm bringing joy to Jueun. The bond between them grows stronger with each playful exchange.

After their games, Mack trots over to a pile of clothes and pulls out a pristine, silver, silky football jersey. He carries it in his mouth to Jueun, his eyes gleaming with a mix of loyalty and excitement.

They engage in a lively game of tug-of-war, with Mack gripping the shiny, silver football jersey in his teeth. With playful determination and a final, gentle tug, Jueun wins, pulling the jersey from Mack’s mouth, victorious in their friendly match. Amused and curious, wondering why his dog (did he own a dog?) had been so fixated on it Jueun inspects the jersey, smells it and begins to rub the silky material up and down his arms and all over his face. The feel is so arousing he can’t get enough of it and without thinking puts it on.

As the smooth, silver material slides over his shoulders, an extraordinary transformation begins. Jueun feels a surge of energy and strength coursing through his veins. His lean, agile frame, honed by years on the mat, starts to bulk up. His shoulders broaden, and his arms swell with newfound muscle, ready to fend off defensive linemen.

His legs, already powerful from countless takedowns, become even stronger, providing a solid base to anchor him on the field. Jueun’s core, developed through grueling wrestling workouts, gains even more stability, helping him maintain perfect leverage against his opponents.

Jueun’s hands, skilled at gripping and controlling opponents in wrestling, adapt to the demands of football. His grip strength becomes a crucial asset, allowing him to steer and block with precision. His reflexes, quickened by wrestling, help him react to the fast-paced dynamics of the game.

The transformation is complete when he dons the football gear: helmet, pads, and jersey. He’s now a formidable force on the field, blending the agility and tenacity of a wrestler with the raw power and toughness of a football player

Mack watches with pride, barking happily, sensing the change in his owner and knowing that he has helped his master embrace the power of the silver jersey. Mack nestles close to Jueun, his heightened senses picking up the familiar, comforting scent of his master. Sniffing and nuzzling, Mack feels a deep bond, one that transcends his former life. Together, they return to the locker room, ready to lead the silver team to new heights. Mack, the devoted mascot, and Jueun the Left Guard, now empowered by the jersey, become an unstoppable duo, united by their shared purpose and the mysterious allure of the secretive silver football team.

Be your best self! Join us! Reach out to us Cap @morphmastersilver, or Co-cap/Manager @kaho-kachun-silver

[ato-catto]

Ssj4 (lonely) Goku x Fem reader

Light smut/ neediness/feral boi

I wrote this on a whim and didn't double check it. Sorry if the spelling is off :,)

Your bleary eyes cracked open when you awoke to the sound of tapping at your window. A dark, bushy haired silhouette sat at the other side of the glass, giving you a right scare. Your heart pounded in your chest and a hand flew to your mouth.

"Goku!? What are you doing here so late!?" You moved to the window and slid it up, letting in a nice warm summer nights breeze. Goku stared up at you with a pouted lip and yellow puppy dog eyes, that caught the moonlight beautifully.

It made you remember all the years you had spent fawning over him as your mentor, and the most recent years you had spent being slightly jealous of his wife, before you matured and 'moved on'.

When he looked at you like that, it didn't feel like you had moved on at all.

"Chichi kicked me out for getting fur on the couch." Goku pouted, resting his furry elbows on the windowsill. "I tried to go to Bulmas but no one was in."

You nodded in thought. "I'm pretty sure they've taken Trunks on holiday to some theme park."

Goku frowned. "Oh. Makes sense." His tone was so light for the gravelly, throaty voice that his form brought forth.

You shook your head, amused and bemused, and ushered him inside and out of the dark.

You switched on your bedside lamp and the big burly Saiyan clambered over the window ledge, sliding the window, and curtains, shut behind him.

He shook put his thick, dark mane and smiled greatfully at you, his fangs poking out from beneath his top lip. His face looked handsome in the dim orange glow from the lamp, and his teeth glinted, catching your eyes, drawing them to his mouth.

"Thanks for lettin' me in, Y/N." He grinned.

You brushed of his thanks with a happy smile, sitting back on your bed, back into the warmth of your blanket. The little shorts and cami you had on wasn't very... modest.

Goku wasn't one to have wandering eyes, anyway, but you weren't going to be the one to stumble a married man- even if it was by accident.

He sat on the very edge of the mattress, his weight bowing the bed down on one side. "Ah I feel so crappy for pissin' off Chichi. Things just haven't been the same since the separation. I should really move out-"

Your eyes went wide. "Seperation!?" OK, THAT was unexpected! Last time you saw them- albeit being 5 or so years ago- she was all over him, clinging to his arm and giving him big loving smiles every time he looked at her.

Perhaps it was the form, that now apparently had stuck. Maybe poor Chichi couldn't stick the fur and exposed abs -although you couldn't see why not- and constant gruff voice, that frankly sent tingles up your spine.

Goku shrugged. "I dunno what it was. We just grew apart I suppose-" his tail waved slowly, sadly. "She seems happier now she's got the house to herself most the time."

You patted his furry back sympathetically. "She's probably just glad she doesn't have to clean so much. Don't take it personally."

He turned to you, his eyes shadowed and dark behind his long bangs. "I wish that was it, but it's not. She told me she didnt 'love me' anymore. I'm too much hassle with the fur."

He ran his hand over the fluffy part of his abdomen, glumly running his fingers through the slightly matter fur.

"I'm sure that isn't true." You hummed, watching the way his hand glided through his pelt and wandered what it would feel like if you did that yourself. You followed his hand as it moved to his abs, rippling over the soft indents and curvature of his tanned skin. A blush formed on your cheeks, and Goku chuckled, a deep rumbling noise that came from the very bottom of his chest.

He had been following your eyes, like he used to do back in your training sessions, to gage what exactly you were thinking about.

And just like back then, he had caught you admiring his physique just a little too much.

"So what do you think of this form?" He purred, leaning a little closer to you on the bed, resting back on his outstretched hands.

You swallowed, slightly hypnotised as his chest stretched out, and rose and fell with his breaths.

"It's really impressive. Very.. monkey like."

Goku laughed, and gave you another toothy grin. "Wanna feel?"

Your heart STOPPED. "Wanna feel.. what-?" You chose your words carefully.

Goku took your hand from your lap and set it on the furry part of his solid muscle bound stomach. "My fur."

Your fingers spread amongst the red, which was soft yet somehow coarse at the same time. Your heart thumping in your ears, your hand feeling up the strong muscles and across the dense ribs of your old master and friend.

He watched you and grinned, his eyes glinting a perfect amber in the light of the lamp.

"S'nice, isn't it?" His words were soft. You could've sworn he tensed slightly as you neared the ridge between flesh and fur.

"Mhm." You didn't want to open your mouth too much, for fear of letting the mounting drool flood out down your chin. Good Kami Kai. Why you? Why today?

Goku grasped your wrist and brought it higher. "Skins pretty soft too.." he purred, setting your palm on his pectoral.

Your face reflected the colour of his fur now, red spreading across your cheeks and neck. He found your reaction amusing, as always. He remembered the days fondly where you couldn't even stand eye to eye with him before sparring because you would go as red as a tomato- and that was back before the days of transformations and forms.

It had been amusing then, but now since being married he understood why exactly you reacted the way you did, and they fact that even now, decades later, you were still the same blushing baby under his gaze was nice. Despite his age, he still had the same effect that he always had on you, and he liked the comfort of something going unchanged in his life.

You. You were the thing that always stayed steadfast.

He brought a finger to your cheek and touched the hot, soft skin. "You alright?" He teased. "Goin' a little red there-"

You pulled your hand back, faster than you've ever moved before, even during fights. "Wha- oh. Oh! Sorry."

Shit! How long had you had your hand there for? His face was a mixture of amusement and... lust. Was that lust? His golden eyes glimmered with something sensual that you swore you were misreading.

"Sorry for what?" He got a little closer. Close enough to smell your arousal.

That's right. His Saiyan sense of smell was stronger than any humans. It was akin to a dogs- he could smell a hot pie from a mile away. His senses went feral- he had been needy for so long.. and with no wife to quell his rising ache.. having you in those small shorts in such close proximity was sending him silently insane.

"I'm sorry for being handsy." You laughed nervously. "Having a man in the house is nice. I'm not used to it." Your half hearted attempt at changing the subject didn't go unnoticed.

"Uhuh." Goku brushed the excuse aside and leant closer, practically leaning over you. "How 'bout you tell me what's on that pretty mind of yours?" His fangs peeked over his lip again, and he planted a hand at the side of your thigh.

You blinked. "On my mind?"

He nodded, not breaking eye contact.

You inhaled sharply. "I was just.. thinking.. you are very handsome? I guess."

Goku tittered. "My chest is 'handsome?'"

"...sexy?" You shrunk back into yourself. The air felt so thick between you, it could be cut with a dull knife.

He grinned again, crawling over you, caging you flat on your back against the mattress. "That's a better word for it."

You gasped slightly, his nose coming close to yours and his eye spearing your very soul. Any words stuck in your throat, his eyes sliding down to your lips. Was he... was he going to-

He was, and he did, lowering himself with strong arms to inquisitively brush his mouth against yours, asking almost politely. You obliged, needing this decades worth of stomach knots to final unravell onto him. His tongue was eager to gain access, probing your mouth and tasting you like he had been craving you. His thick mane fell about your head, shadowing the both of you. He pulled back to breathe, almost glaring at you as he caught his breath. Something feral passed behind his eyes and his pants turned to soft growls.

"I need you." He purred, grasping the back of your neck and running a thumb down your throat. "I've needed you."

Your eyes go wide like saucers, slightly terrified of this new version of Goku- but massively aroused all the same. ".. Then.. then take me." You whisper, tensing your thighs together at the tingle sensations rippling through your core in anticipation.

In response, he buried his fangs into the side of your neck. You mewled, the pain and pleasure folding into one, sending your mind into a blurry fog. The sound was a song that Goku didn't realise he had needed to hear for years.

Being homeless had never been better.

[writefightandflightclub]

Blorbo thought of the day #5

Repetition: (Marc Spector x reader)

A/n: a little fluffy blurb 🥰 Starts with angst but Marc provides comfort and it’s lovely because he is lovely.

Warnings: (Reader has some abandonment / self-esteem issues, canon typical allusions to Marc’s past, implied off-camera sexy times, food mentions) Not proofed!

GIF by @anhandfulgirl18

“You a’right?” Marc asks you in his gruff morning voice as your sigh billows dolefully against the bare expanse of his chest. The room is golden hued with sunlight, bright and easy, and your mood as you wake certainly does not match it.

“Bad dream,” you explain curtly, deepening the niggle in your brow. “Just thinking.”

Marc crushes his chin to his chest in an attempt to get a better look at you. Smooths a warm, broad hand down your bare back, the gnarled patterned sheets pushed down around your middles. “What dream? What are you thinking?”

You stiffen, snapping out of your gloomy mood a little as you realise that you’ve been awake for a mere 30 seconds, and yet you have already managed to make his voice sound like that. Despondent. Taut with concern.

Your head still resting on his chest, his heartbeat thudding steadily beneath the shell of your ear, you let your fingers dance lightly over his pec, trailing in slow, repeating circles, round and round. “It’s just….” The words feel too big to come out, like there’s a traffic jam in your throat when you try to say it out loud.

It’s stupid. You know it is.

“What?” Marc encourages, whisper soft, his voice and his hands as gentle as the slip of fresh golden sun into the room.

You push yourself up. Lie on your front next to him, propping your chin on your fisting hands. Despite the tension roping through you, looking at Marc instantly makes you smile, even if the gesture itself is a subdued, somber sort of thing.

You reach up and ruffle his thick, dark strands with the rake of your fingers, fondly combing the tendrils back from his forehead, and he hums for you, low and soft.

God. This man. He always looks especially beautiful on a morning. The mussed, chaotic curls. The shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. The way he fans his long lashes, attempting to blink away the bright morning, always a complete snuggle fiend and wanting to lay in the dark with you just a little longer. The glisten of his Magen David pooled in the hollow of his throat, bobbing there as he swallows. His skin bare and warm and his natural scent not yet polluted by his morning shower.

You don’t think you could ever tire of this sight.

“It’s nothing. Not really. It’s just… Every now and again I get this… horrible gnawing feeling. Like one day you’ll… I dunno. Get bored of me?”

That wakes him up, and for the second time this morning you feel guilt writhe your belly. Marc, meanwhile, looks at you with a pure concern. Gaze flitting over you. Examining you as though you’ve been severely wounded - and he’s only now seeing it. “What do you mean?” He moves, the surprise animating him, and he shifts his elbows backwards to prop his torso up. His necklace elongates, settling into place in the valley of his shapely chest, and his mop of curls flopping once again over his forehead. “Honey. How could I ever?”

You play with a little bit of lint on the bed covers, suddenly intent on it. Retreating away from Marc’s intense, searching stare. “You know. You could. Maybe. From the repetition of it.” Your voice cracks like sun-baked earth - as though the golden morning has already dried you out. “You could get bored. Waking-up next to me every day? Hearing me talk about the same stuff all the time? Fucking me, over and over.”

At that comment, Marc’s brows knit and raise in the middle. His tongue fleets along his lower lip, his mouth turning down at the corners. God, those puppy dog eyes of his never get old.

“But you know I love fucking you over and over, shortcake.”

You shake your head softly. Self-conscious around him, and you have no idea why. “Marc.”

With the wet way you say his name, Marc turns immediately on to his side, still propped up on one elbow, his muscles popping as they bear his weight. And, his freed arm just as immediately is reaching for you. Fingers trailing down your back. You look at him and he looks pained. “Did I… Did I do something to make you think that-“

“-No.” Shit. You shouldn’t have said anything about it. Marc gets so in his head about these things. Always blames himself, as though, if you’re insecure, it means that he isn’t doing a good enough job of loving you. In fact, that could not be further from the truth. “No, Marc. I promise. It’s…” You sigh out a long breath. “It’s just how I feel sometimes. Like eventually, you’ll realise you want someone else. I mean, if I were you, I’d get tired of me too, you know? Sometimes it just feels… inevitable.” Your final word is so heavy that is weighs the tears that pool in your eyes, and yet, even through the blur, you risk a glance up at Marc again.

His palm comes to cradle your cheek. His eyes shine steadily on you. Even glint with an unexpected amusement, despite the situation, which you don’t yet comprehend.

“Baby. Do you never think about who you’re talking to, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. I love repetition. Same thing, over and over? Fucking heaven.”

Your insecurities press you to dispute his statement, and your mouth even drops open to counter him; but, actually, when you think about it…

Marc?

This guy?

The guy who eats the same thing everyday for breakfast, except on Saturdays? Who does all of his tasks in the same way, in the same order, every time? Who watches the same three movies on repeat any time he gets a chance? Who buys four of the same shirt so he rarely has to change it up?

“Yeah. Okay,” you concede. “But, why though?Because it’s… easy? Convenient?” That’s not what you want to be for him.

Marc caresses your cheek with his palm again, gaze flitting fondly over your face. He frowns, like he’s never really thought about the why before. Because it had never really occurred to him to think about it. “No. Not exactly. I guess because… It makes me feel… safe.”

“Safe?”

Safe. Is that what you are to him?

“Yeah. Safe like…”

Not like home. Not like the place that never was; safe.

Safe, like the jumper you knitted him, maybe. Safe, like repeating stitch after repeating stitch wrapped around him, keeping him warm.

Repetition as comfort. Routine as the home he never had, built for himself, block by block.

Like that, maybe? Or, like something else?

You swallow harshly. “Safe like… boring?”

“No,” Marc says calmly, still thinking. “No, baby.”

Then, he moves. Crawls on top of you until his nude body is covering yours, boxing you in all safe.

You see the effort plainly in his face. See from the weight in his brow that he’s painstakingly searching for the right words. That he’s reaching for a way to make you get it. Searching for something which he knows for certain you’ll truly understand. “Safe like…” A lightness settles over Marc’s face as he lands on the very thing. Something you can both understand. No chance of misinterpretation. “Safe like… how Steven makes you feel, you know?” Then, he cocks his head to the side, a slow drag of a smile inching, lopsided, over his plush mouth. “Except, in a less brotherly way. Obviously.”

You can’t help it. You tear up. You know what Steven means to Marc. That Steven represented the first time Marc had felt loved. Protected. That Steven made you feel that same way too. “I really make you feel like that?”

Marc’s eyes glow softly with a smile, crinkles appearing around his eyes, since he’s finally beginning to make you understand. “Yeah. Now you’re getting it. And hey. You’d never get sick of that, would you?”

You wouldn’t. “Never.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your lips. Buries his face in your neck, lips sliding tenderly down the column of your throat. Holding you tightly, his body covering you. He kisses along your collarbone, his tongue laving there. “I’ll never be bored of you.”

“Promise?”

Marc props himself up on his forearms, boxing you in either side of your head and nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “In a thousand lifetimes? I’d love you over and over and over and over.”

Finally, you submit a watery smile to him, releasing your sadness and your fears and your tension. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling his mouth down to yours for a deep, tender, loving kiss.

“Well,” you suspire when you break for air. “Then I suppose I like repetition too.”

“Oh yeah?”

You kiss the tip of his nose and his face crinkles with a delicious smile. “Yeah. Because I wanna wake up beside you every single day, Marc Spector.” He smiles in awe at you, eyes glistening with unadulterated adoration and you kiss along his jawline. “And sometimes Steven or Jake too,” you add as an aside. “That I’ll allow.” Marc’s face splits into a beaming smile. “Now, kisses for you all.” You grasp his face in your splayed hands and plant three kisses in turn. One on the cheek, one to the centre of his forehead, and one on his lips, which is all for him.

Marc’s eyes flutter closed as your kiss puckers against him. “Now, get off me, will you?” you tease fondly. “I’ll get us some breakfast. I’m gonna need you fuelled-up.”

“What for?”

“For all of the repetitive fucking we’re about to do.”

Marc flips obediently on to his back, folding his arms behind his head and baring himself entirely to you as you sway -naked- towards the kitchen. “Oh, is that right?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, shortcake.”

You are. You’re feeling much better thanks to Marc and the way in which he loves you - which, you’re discovering, never gets old.

“What are we having?” he asks as you begin to raid the cabinets.

“The usual.” you glance towards him, a smirk on your mouth. “I mean. If that’s okay with you.”

He smiles softly at you in return. “The usual sounds perfect.”

It’s funny.

Marc always did love a little repetition.

[the-voice-beckons-below]

you ever think of hybrid avengers?

puppy! hybrid peter parker who has the waggiest tail, literally thwacks the avengers with it all the time. who hides his tail and ears after everyone’s forgotten him, he knows if he bumps into mj, his tail would wag uncontrollably. he doesn’t want to seem weird to her.

wolf! hybrid bucky who’s ears and tail are partially mangled from hydra. anytime steve is near his tail manages to muster enough excitement to wag. he stays awake at night, sensitive ears twitching, paranoid there’s a threat around the corner.

hawk! hybrid sam, who complains about his wings being itchy. letting bucky preen him with a scowl, the metal fingers are nice and cold, and they aren’t oily, so they won’t mess up his wings. sometimes when surprised or unexpectedly hurt, he’ll squawk, he’ll deny it ever happened though.

cat! hybrid natasha who’s eyes are so often slitted, but if you get her any place warm her pupils are expanding instantly. the team puts red dots on targets as a joke, funny thing is, it actually helps her. she chases them down with a new vigour, just little mice under her palms. her tail doesn’t move, unless she’s incredibly relaxed. never shows her stomach.

snake! hybrid loki who has impressively sized fangs, scales that sometime appear on his skin. they shimmer between a dull green and a bright teal. he’s venomous, can control it though! only bit thor with a tiny bit of venom when they were little. his eyes are only sometimes reptilian, present in times he’s emotional or overly confident.

lion! hybrid thor, who roars when he finds something he likes so much! remember the cup smashing scene? yeah well he’s smashing it, roaring and then saying “another!” with a smile full of just teeth. who has cute little fluffy ears, lets all the avengers touch them, same as his tail. who when passionate, sprouts some fur on his cheeks, they become distractedly fuzzy. doesn’t realise for the longest time that he has retractable claws, once he finds out, they start accidentally popping out of his nails when he gets too excited or happy.

fox! hybrid tony who sometimes snickers like a traditional fox. purrs when he manages to get a good night of sleep, tail is often bushy and unkept, his ears are almost always covered by a hat. his suits have special sockets for his ears. after some time, with pepper’s help, he becomes more confident in his fox-like features and definitely models them. who eventually tries to get all the avengers on board with doing a hybrid photoshoot. he gets a lot of cravings for chicken and eggs.

—-

Author’s Note: honestly did this for a little fun. i created a new tumblr account and planned on writing a bunch, but found out my account was shadow banned. contacted tumblr and after a few days my account is no longer invisible!! so i guess this is my soft launch. just want to see if the algorithm sees me now, so any reposts, comments and likes are so so appreciated.

i’m really invested in marvel atm, so expect a lot of fics, also i wrote a miguel o’hara angst fic!! and there’s a male reader x bucky story in my drafts. i’m really excited to meeting new people and fans on tumblr, and hopefully making a community!!!

i might do a part two if this is liked :)

[ay0nha]

Buggy searching out reader after a fight and showing up to her doorstep like a puppy looking for help

feel free to make it angsty or fluffy (or smutty lol)...reader could be an ex-marine and hates pirates so it's not clear whether or not they like each other (spoiler they do)

PAIRING: OPLA!Buggy x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

WARNINGS: ANGST, canon-typical things, cursing, smoking, descriptions of injuries/fucked up shit Buggy did, mutual pining, brief mention of reader being a former marine, vague description of smuggler!reader, soft touches, enemies ish to lovers, etc.

A/N: This was fun lol. It's a little weird and experimental (?) for me? So, she got a little messy as I was getting excited to just Get This Out, so it didn't sit in my drafts. I want more buggy angst lol. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any OPLA things or along the lines. Enjoy.

!!!COMMENTS ENCOURAGED!!!

(tags: @gingernut1314)

There were reasons habits quickly morphed into vices, something immoral and wicked. Yet, you were lethal, the definition of torment. Your silhouette alone was enough to send Buggy spiraling. 

Each step toward you felt unreliable and fuzzy, making Buggy question if he reattached his limbs correctly. His gut felt twisted with a foreign feeling that he wanted to trap away. He wondered if he buried the feeling deep enough if it would turn to treasure or become forgotten rot. 

“Buggy.” Your voice even irritated him. Yet, he found relief in finding you alone. “Third time this month. Careful…I’m starting to get a big head.”

“That sounds like a medical problem…” He mumbled with little enthusiasm and a half-hearted smirk, “...should probably get seen for that.”

“Admitting you care, eh?” You teased. You were preoccupied, cigarette dangling from your lip and bobbing with every word. “What can I help you with?”

The receipts tended to be formidable, but you couldn't help but feel your concentration falter when you were met with uncharacteristic silence.  Typically, you were shy of whiplash from an unwarranted insult or backhanded compliment. However, once your eyes landed on Buggy, you only saw deep anger veiling desperation. 

 “How serious is it?” Your pen was settled beside the book, whatever records you were once concerned with dismissed.  Buggy looked awful—his posture gave away his exhaustion and discomfort.

“What? Can’t we skip the part where I say ‘the other guy looks worse’?” His busted lip ticked with dry humor. There were rumors he was in trouble, but that paled compared to the truth you knew about Buggy. 

“Depends.” You frowned. “That other guy isn’t stopping by, is he?” If it were true, you’d have to lay low, something you never had time for. “This is why I don’t like your kind.”

“My kind?” Buggy continued unamused. You weren’t more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing to him. You were a smuggler. Plain and simple. It was impossible for something to stay hidden from you for long.  “You’re not far off, sweetheart.”

His terms of endearment never held affection, but he seemed to soften this time for some reason—almost pleading between the lines. You held a trained expression, taking a moment of consideration. 

Your typical jobs with him were small. Typically, they consisted of information that he could coax out of you for trinkets. He brought the world to you. Other times, you moved things through the shadows to an even darker location. 

This was different, you decided. 

Stalking toward the clown, you saw how the pain mapped on his body.  “You look awful.” 

The jester’s bow was fueled by pained sarcasm. Although his abilities helped, Buggy's flesh was still pliable. His jaw was a deep-set purple, contrasting the faded red of his cracked lips. It was hard to distinguish what was paint and what was blood. His eyes were bloodshot with broken blood vessels, and there were gashes littering every place imaginable. 

You were surprised he was still standing. You noted how his breath became labored, as if holding onto what he could before he collapsed entirely. But looking between his eyes, you saw the struggle he had deciding what was worth his final breath: business or pleasure. 

—

At the atrium of the town, your home went unnoticed. The average eye missed it, but those who could look past the unassuming home knew what lay behind the walls. You were particular with your arrangements, always done tightly and if challenged dangerously. 

Buggy learned the hard way of earning your loose alliance. The scar you left behind cinched on his side, and sometimes, if he found you lingering in his mind, he swore he felt it ache. Yet, just being in your presence seemed to be the closest thing to a remedy. 

“You can’t just show up like this.” Your scolding was shallow, there only as a buffer. You distanced yourself from the pirate despite the intimacy you provided. 

The handful of candles in the room glowed yellow, highlighting the dark corners that threatened to swallow everything whole. Your fingers trailed various cabinets, pulling out necessities: make-shift gauze, old booze, and something loosely resembling thread. 

“Then, don’t leave a key under your mat.”  Buggy hadn’t bothered with the front door, stumbling through a window once locked. The so-called key was that he knew how to dance around your traps, dragging in an air of death.  

“Hilarious.”

“Gimme a minute...” He raised his uncovered hand.“... I’ll come up with something better.”

The irony hadn’t set in yet, but whoever had hurt him made it personal. Buggy’s middle fingers were gone, not detached, but entirely ripped off.  

“Oh—” You bubbled with laughter lightly, “—that must’ve hurt.”

“Well, aren’t you a twisted one?” Buggy’s tone was flat, but his eyes tracked you. He silently begged you to put him out of his misery. 

“What’s twisted is you, Buggy.” The decision had already been made to help him, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t draw it out.  “You come here asking for my mercy and expect it for free…” 

Buggy’s throat went dry, his tongue barely able to wet his own lips without tasting blood. He leaned through your threshold, head hung, leaving a trail of blood with every uncomfortable shift. His breath was heavy, wheezing with effort to remain upright.  

There was no use in prayers. The gore set the air with dust that could never settle; a blood-warm heat had set into your marrow, never to be forgotten; Buggy had been dragged to your doorstep like a cat bringing in fowl. 

Buggy spoke low as if the neighbors would hear. He hadn’t even wanted to hear himself, knowing his desperation.  “...can’t you play favorites for once?”

“That’s a trick question.” Your facade had slipped. Your response was a second too quick, letting warmth trickle throughout his chest.

Buggy’s ears rang at the admission. Your words filled the room and stuck like honey.

You were always thinking. You were intentional; everything was thought out, and if it wasn’t, you were still level-headed. It wasn’t hard to recognize his behavior patterns; he knew what he was doing. Finally, though, everything became a second thought as you reached him with intent, tilting his chin to expose his neck.

“Easy, puppet.” Buggy caught your wrist. The tight hold was a warning moments away from a fracture. “Pity isn’t your color.”

Buggy fed off cruelty that incited fear. It was foolish to think he could do the same to you. 

“How naive of you to think this is what pity looks like.” Your voice was soft and steady, pent-up venom behind every word. “Before me is a shell of a man playing pirate—” 

You paused to regain your wrist. Regret flashed over Buggy’s features, but he held onto every one of your words. His humor was his defense, and beyond that, he was pliable in your hands. There was little room for recovery. 

“—don’t fault me for something you let get out of hand.” You finished. 

Fear clawed its way up Buggy’s throat, determined to make itself known. It fought with another emotion he was too proud to name. He wasn't unfamiliar with loss. But this.  The feeling was wild. Sentimental.

The small candles’ fire illuminated the room only so much, hiding the loneliness of the small space. Very little signs of life filled the room, but your supplies dominated the counters. It was a tick you picked up from the Marines that you couldn’t shake. On nights when sleep was hard to find, you would organize and filter through everything in preparation for nothing. 

It seemed wrong to encourage the relief you felt, finally putting what you had to use. But its familiarity was oddly cathartic. So, with clean hands, you began. 

“Lean forward—” You instructed. The chill in your tone softened as Buggy struggled. “—move slowly. Slowly.”

You’d already discarded his hat; scorched by the battle, it had lost most of its form. You moved slowly, calculated with every experimental touch. The years of back and forth and treachery never lead you to believe Buggy would be sitting at your mercy. 

He grunted as you removed his jacket. It was tattered and drenched with rainwater. The leather of the chair protested against being ruined. Each layer removed revealed every minute it took for him to arrive. 

“Were you shot? Show me where it hurts. ” You prompted bluntly. The training was still ingrained; your mind filtered through a clinical set of diagnostic questions, your hands moved with practice, and you were returned. “Dizzy? Light-headed? Anything like that?”

His skin pricked. Your touch tickled him, but he leaned into it fully. Buggy was used to touch hurting or leading to something that hurt. He put far too much faith in you, unlike the others. He humanized you. It would be a mistake if you did the same.

“No, no,” Buggy shook his head, the action unsteady. “My ribs—” He coughed with discomfort when you pressed against his side. “Fuck—”

Your hands were steady as you worked. The gauze was taut in the right places, and Buggy’s body finally relaxed. He received a good beating, but nothing bed rest would fix. While you tided, you rambled on about the possibility of a fever, infections, and whatever else came out of your mouth to ignore the feeling of his severe gaze. 

“You’ve changed,” Buggy muttered sharply. He took in your entirety. You held yourself well; you’d matured into your confidence unrestrained. Without him, you soared.  

“And you’ve fallen.” Your mouth fidgeted with a frown. Your head remained leveled with his, bandages secured at his temples. 

Buggy’s bloodshot eyes darted between your own. He wanted to tell you that you were the brevity of his curse, his burden. His mind was always riddled with reflections, constantly ruminating about possibilities that could bring so-called success. You quieted it and saw him for what he was good and evil. He gave all of himself to you. 

“Oh yeah?” He encouraged. 

You only noticed now the position you were standing in, not entirely between his legs, but knees brushing with every motion. Intentional or not, Buggy took advantage, bruised knuckles, finding a place just shy of your pant’s fabric. 

“I got you something.” He whispered. Buggy knew you well enough that the seed that only he could nourish had been planted. It was only moments before you’d cave. “Check my pocket; the left one.”

A strange feeling surfaced, pulling away, but you were enticed. Buggy learned your tastes, knowing you placed value on rarities. There was no rhyme or reason behind it, possibly besides the fact that each trinket was tangible evidence that you were on his mind. Therefore, there was no stop to the allure. You explored his discarded jacket, eagerness fueling your search. 

“Jesus, Buggy!” You cursed from the texture alone. Buggy fulfilled his titles, always sporadic with his behavior and anger. The blood was warm and fresh, staining your palm as if making sure it was now shared blood on your hands. 

You flung the nose to the floor, cartilage still firm and skin still stringy with the residue of its owner. The image alone told you everything. The scene was explicit—nothing could be saved from Buggy’s carnage. 

“Oops.” He wheezed an ill-timed laugh. To be seated in the depths of your home, he still sought  out an advantage. “Must be the other pocket.”

“It’s too late for your pranks.” You spat. Your kindness felt thrown back in your face. The faint embarrassment morphed into anger. “Don't you get this is exactly why I—

“I forgot, you don’t like my kind.” Buggy chose malice as his only form of self-preservation. The statement mocked you and your previous life sewing up Marines that Buggy most likely sent you. “How selfish to think everything is about you.” 

Buggy detached his bandaged hand with the little energy he had left, going to the correct pocket. He let his defensiveness stew, already committing to the rash gift he’d brought for you. It was heavy on its return to you. 

Reaching out, your heart dropped to your stomach. The glass was pristine, and the snowglobe’s inner frost moved your heartbeat to your ears. You refused to shake it, nervous your uneasy hands would break something so inherently precious. 

Holding it tightly to your chest, your eyes were blown wide, pouring into Buggy’s. It was clear to you now the state he was in was of a transactional purpose. He offered himself for the trivial object. It spoke of the confusion of feelings that drowned Buggy. Pain became inherent to his life, functioning as a scale of value. 

The greater the risk, the greater the reward. 

“Do you like it?” Buggy’s voice surpassed the thumping in your ears. 

When you were young, you threw things out of your bedroom window to learn how they would break. Many of them did not—the plastic dolls and plush toys landed safely on the grassy yard below—but the wooden toys did break, or at least they came apart.

One day, you found a snow globe. A winter village stood inside, with snow-covered roofs and chimneys shooting up into the domed sky.

This snow globe was the last thing you threw out of your window, not because your mother scolded you, which she did, but because this snow globe smashed so gloriously—an explosion of crystal, water, snow, and glitter, the village utterly destroyed —you thought you wouldn’t be able to replicate such destruction again.

It was bullshit then, and it was bullshit now. Moving and letting go was never in the stars for you. Or the tea leaves. Or in the deep lines of your palm. You were destined for destruction. 

You’d told Buggy this once. Your state of inebriation fostered the interaction, the memory far more fuzzy for you than for him. It was told nonlinearly, but he followed it well as if he were then to witness it himself. He understood its value to you even if he couldn’t fully understand it.  It wasn’t odd or facetious. It was your greatest regret that he became determined to restore.  

“Yes.”