#THE PICKLE LINGERS

[krynutsreal]

Mondo wants to be the "He asked for no pickles" one in the relationship so bad but we all know that he's the one who's too anxious to talk to the employee that got his order wrong because he knows he'll shout out of nervous habit, meanwhile Taka is A Dick about that sort of thing and likes to make it everyone's problem

they forgot takas fries too he's pissed

#me 2 tho mondo like #its ok. we can take out the pickles its fine i dont mind. the lingering taste of it ok yea i kinda do but like its bareable #anyways they make me ill! #ty for sending this ask #sorry if the image quality is weird at this point im blaming my phone for everything #danganronpa #mondo owada #kiyotaka ishimaru #ishimondo #kry k(art) #ask

[writingwithfolklore]

Describing Foods - A Masterlist

                As a broke university student, I love reading about food. It’s almost like eating a real meal myself <3.

I get a little angry when characters are eating a meal and I barely get to experience it with them. In that, I mean I don’t just want to know what it is, but what it’s like to eat that food—how it tastes, smells, sounds, and feels. Is a perfect croissant still a perfect croissant without the crack of the exterior, the airiness of the pastry inside, the smell of yeast?

                Probably not. When writing about a dish, the smell, texture, technique, taste, and how it looks are all important to painting the experience, so here’s some words to use when describing a meal:

Taste:

Acidic: Sharp tasting. Often used to describe tart or sour foods as well.

Aftertaste: A different taste that remains in the mouth after eating something

Bitter: Tart, sharp, and sometimes harsh flavour.

Bittersweet: Less harsh than bitterness. Tartness + sweetness.

Bland: Has no significant flavor or texture

Briny: Just means salty. Often describes pickled foods.

Citrusy: Bright flavour like… well citrus fruits—oranges, lemons, limes, etc.

Cooling: Mimics that cooling feel—like mint.

Earthy: Reminiscent of soil. Can be used to describe wines, root vegetables, and mushrooms.

Fiery: Another word for spicy.

Fresh: Light and crisp—describes produce or herbs.

Fruity: Sweet and reminiscent of fruit.

Full-bodied: Rich and ‘feels heavy’ in your mouth. Can describe wines or soups.

Herbal: Bright, fresh, sometimes earthy from the presence of herbs

Honeyed: Sweet or candied taste like honey.

Nutty: Taste similar to the flavors of nuts. Often used to describe certain cheeses.

Rich: Full, heavy flavour. Often dishes that contain cream taste rich.

Robust: Rich + Earthy. Used for lots of wines or aged liquor.

Savory: Describes meaty, earthy dishes and soups.

Sharp: Harsh, bitter, or tart taste. Used to describe acidic foods.

Smoky: Reminiscent of the smell of smoke.

Sour: Biting, tangy, tart flavor.

Spicy: Burning taste.

Sweet: Sugary.

Tangy: Tart, biting taste—feels tingly

Tart: Sharp, bitter, or sour flavour. Used to describe acidic foods.

Woody: Earthy, sometimes nutty taste. Describes some coffees or cheeses.

Yeasty: Earthy taste reminiscent of yeast. Describes beer and bread.

Zesty: Fresh, vivid, or invigorating flavour.

Sound/Texture:

Sound has a lot to do with texture, so I've combined them for this section!

Airy: Light, pillowy texture (think inside of croissant)

Brittle: Hard but easy to break

Bubbly: Usually during heating, when bubbles rise to the surface—low sound.

Buttery: Smooth, creamy texture (think certain pasta sauces)

Chewy: Food that needs to be chewed thoroughly. Can be light and bouncy (chewy bread) or heavy (steak) and sticky (candy)

Creamy: A smooth and rich texture, comes from dairy.

Crispy: Light texture with slight crunch.

Crumbly: Food with loose structure that falls apart into crumbs.

Crunchy: Firm, crisp texture with a sharp, loud noise.

Crusty (behave): Food with a hard outer layer and soft interior (many loaves and breads)

Delicate: Light and fine, feels like it can come apart easily.

Doughy: Soft and heavy, usually pale colouring.

Fizzy: Usually liquids—a hissing sound, feels like ‘static’

Flaky: Light, characterized by layers that come apart during eating.

Fluffy: light and airy.

Frothy/Foamy: Airy bubbles, usually in a drink like a latte.

Gamey: Usually refers to meats when they’re very “meaty”

Gooey: Viscous, sometimes sticky texture from moisture in a dense/solid food.

Hearty: Firm, robust texture.

Juicy: Tender and succulent texture from liquid in a solid food (steak)

Molten: Hot, gooey

Oily: Slick, heavy, lingers on the tongue.

Silky: Fine, smooth texture that feels sleek.

Smooth: Texture free of grit, lumps, or edges.

Snap: A quick, sharp, crackling sound when broken.

Squelch: A soft sucking sound when pressure is applied. Somewhat gross.

Sticky: Gluiness in the mouth.

Succulent: Tender and juicy

Tender: Soft and easy to break down

Velvety: Smooth and rich

Smell:

Acrid: Strong, bitter, unpleasant

Comforting: pleasant, probably calls back to a nice memory

Damp: Wet smelling—probably a bit earthy

Delicate: subtle, faint, not overpowering

Earthy: reminiscent of soil

Fetid: Caused by decay—unpleasant

Fishy: reminiscent of fish

Floral/flowery: Reminiscent of flowers

Fragrant: Sweet or pleasing

Fresh: Cool, crisp, refreshing—produce, probably not cooked

Funky: Something’s gone off

Heady: Strong smell, pungent, rich

Musty: Not fresh

Perfumed: Pleasant, reminiscent of something (can be perfumed with citrus, say)

Piquant: stinging, pungent—tickles the nose

Powerful: strong

Rancid: Definitely gone off, decomposing

Ripe: Strong, usually unpleasant smell

Savory: spicy, salty, no elements of sweetness

Sour: has gone off

Spicy: Sharp, tingles the nose

Tangy: Strong and bitter but in a good way

Tart: Sharp

Woody: earthy smell, reminiscent of wood

Sight:

Usually texture gives us a really good picture of what a food looks like, so here’s some non-texture sight additions:

Blistered: Bumpy exterior.

Caramelized: Usually golden brown

Cloudy: Splotched. Almost see through if not for a slight white or grey mist.

Colourful: Bright and vibrant

Glassy: Resembling glass

Glossy: Smooth, shiny

Marbled: Two colours intertwined

Opaque: Not transparent. Can’t see through.

Ripe: Colourful (can be to a fault). Nearing the end of its edible state.

Scaly: Covered in scales, fish.

Shiny: Appears wet or glossy

Sparkling: Glimmers under the light

Stuffed: An ingredient placed inside a larger part with no additional space.

Translucent: Allows light through

Vibrant: Striking, bright

Food Prep:

How the food is prepared gives it these other attributes. If your character is familiar with cooking (or is the cook themselves!) they may describe food this way.

Baked: Cooked in an oven. Results in browned or crispy outer layer.

Blackened: When food is dipped in butter and coated with spices then cooked in a hot pan—spices darken, making it appear ‘blackened’

Blanched: Food scalded in boiling water and moved to cold water so it stops cooking. Texture comes out soft.

Braised: Food that is briefly fried in fat and then stewed in a pot. Results in seared, crispy exterior with a tender interior.

Breaded: Coated with breadcrumbs/batter then baked or fried so it turns crispy

Broiled: Food cooked with intense radiant heat in an oven or on the grill. Results in a darkened appearance and crispy texture.

Caramelized: Food slow-cooked until it’s browned, nutty, and has a bit of sweetness.

Charred: Grilled, roasted, or broiled and gains a blackened exterior and smoky flavor.

Fermented: Food that’s sat with bacteria, yeast, or another microorganism and has produced acids, alcohols, or gases. Results in a biting, pungent flavor. (Kimchi is fermented)

Fried: Food cooked by submerging in hot oil. Creates crispy, crunchy texture and golden colour.

Glazed: Food with a coating brushed onto its surface. Appears glossy with a thin, flavorful, and crisp outer layer.

Infused: Food steeped in liquid with another ingredient so it carries the essence of that ingredient. Used with herbs usually.

Marinated: Usually meat soaked in liquid containing flavourful herbs, spices, vinegar, or oil.

Poached: Food cooked in near boiling water. Results in tender, moist texture.

Roasted: Food cooked with dry heat in an oven or over the fire. Results in browned exterior and crisp coating.

Sautéed: Food cooked quickly in small amount of fat.

Seared: Food cooked in small amount of fat until caramelized. Finished by roasting or grilling. Results in crisp exterior and tender interior.

Smoked: Food exposed to smoke from smoldering wood for a long time. Results in that distinctive smoky flavor.

Whipped: Food beaten to incorporate air. Light and fluffy.

What did I miss?

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #filmmaking #books #film #writing advice #writing about food #food descriptions #descriptive writing #masterlist #Describing foods - a masterlist

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #7

CH7. Spice Box | The Menu [4.1K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Eddie held the door open for you as you approached the trailer, hand waving you in as he smiled, shy. 

The trailer was tidier than you’d ever seen it before, a valiant effort made in anticipation for your arrival. The usual piles of washed laundry were moved from the dining booth bench, the ashtrays moved from the living room coffee tables. The trailer was unusually quiet, smelling like mountain cedar, if the can of air freshener on Wayne’s armchair was anything to go by. 

You did your usual, despite the way you felt like you were there for the first time. For a first date. But you toed off your shoes by the door and lingered in the kitchen, fingers twisting together as you wondered what came next. This? This part was new, this was different. 

Eddie smiled shyly as he followed behind, hands skimming your shoulders as he squeezed past you and the counter, opening the fridge. The white-yellow glow filled the room, clashing with the pink sunset that came in from the living room blinds. 

“Okay, what are you feelin’?” Eddie said into the refrigerator, his fingers tapping on the door. “We got stuff for omelettes, I could do pasta, oh, hey, I make a mean gnocchi.” Eddie emerged with a quart of pesto, wiggling one of the diners' plastic containers at you. 

You smiled, shrugging easily because you’d be happy with some toast if it meant Eddie kept looking at you like that. You leaned against the dining table edge, lips pressed together and trying your hardest to keep it together. Eddie looked too pretty in the sunlight, that peachy pink golden flow, the last rays turning his brown eyes the colour of caramel as he looked at you. 

“I don’t mind,” you told him softly, “anything you make will be good.”

Eddie grinned, bashful, cheeks pink and he held his hand out to you, coaxing you into holding onto his fingers so he could tug you forward. You were supposed to look in the fridge too, check out the mountains of fresh ingredients he liked to pack into it, the tubs of homemade sauces and pickled veg. But instead, you stumbled into the boy, socked feet touching his boots, knees bumping. 

It was awkward in an innocent way, your smile shy and matching Eddie’s, his faltering a little when he realised how close you were. His hand held yours a little tighter and when he realised you weren’t moving away, well shit, he didn’t bother to either. His fingers twisted in yours, thumb running over the backs of your knuckles and he swallowed hard as he looked down at you. 

“Uh, we could, uh, I could make some lasagna. Or, or a stir fry?” Eddie stumbled over his words, brows furrowed in concentration as he studied each part of your face. The line of your nose, the fan of your lashes, the curve of your lip. “If you want. I don’t, I don’t mind cookin’ whatever.”

You felt bolder than ever when you let your hand slip from Eddie’s and climb up his forearm, finger wrapping around the cords of muscle there, thumb rubbing at the sensitive skin on the inside crook of his elbow. It made the boy still, lips parting in surprise. It felt nice to be this close, chests almost touching, Eddie’s hand falling to hold your waist instead, fingertips pushed to the soft cotton of your sundress. 

“I’m not, I’m not really all that hungry, right now,” you told him softly. You were nervous, wondering if this was supposed to happen this way. If this was supposed to happen this soon. But you couldn’t bring yourself to step away. 

The refrigerator door was still open. 

Eddie nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, sure. No, same. We can eat later, if you want.” You watched his Adam’s apple bob, felt his fingers squeeze a little tighter at the plush of your hips. “How’s your head feelin’?”

You smiled at his concern and met his gaze. This much eye contact wasn’t all that surprising but the fact you hadn’t been interrupted yet by someone yelling about hot dog bugs or asking where the napkin refills were was. “It’s fine,” you promised him. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

A lie, it was a little tender. But definitely no concussion. You’d iced it when you’d gotten home but for a shorter time than you should’ve, too preoccupied with the idea of jumping into a warm shower and shaving every inch of your leg in preparation for your date. If anything, the idea of spending time alone with Eddie was what had your head spinning. 

“Good,” Eddie nodded and you could see him thinking, too much, before he sucked in a quiet breath and lifted a hand to cup the back of your neck. His hand was big enough that it curled all the way round, his thumb tucked into the space under your ear, right along your jaw. You wondered if he could feel your pulse - he probably could. You wondered if he could feel that way it was fucking racing. “Doesn’t hurt, if I do this?”

You were scared to move, worried if you shook your head it would break the spell, scared that Eddie would stop touching you. So you whispered instead, one word on a shaky breath that made Eddie’s eyes get a little wider. “No.”

Eddie pushed his thumb to your jaw a little firmer, suddenly not as worried about touching you, holding you now like you wouldn’t shatter underneath him. “So this is okay?” He whispered back and oh my god, it was more than okay, it was exactly what you wanted and you were still in the middle of his kitchen with the refrigerator light casting over your socks, your shins. 

You licked your lips and gave a small nod, eyes trained on his mouth and you heard the boy suck in a breath. “Yeah, it’s okay.” You swallowed, throat bobbing and Eddie felt it under his hand, the movement making him dizzy. “More than okay.”

His thumb moved up, skimming over the apple of your cheek, fingers fanning out over the side of your neck until they were pushing into your hairline and pulling goosebumps from your skin. You didn’t realise you were both walking you backwards until your hips hit the counter. It was a soft bump, everything Eddie did was gentle and his eyes were watching yours the entire time, searching for any hesitation. 

It’d been a while since he’d been in a situation like this, but he was pretty fucking positive there was none there. 

You confirmed his thoughts by clinging to the front of his shirt, fingertips tugging the material so he’d take the hint and move closer, meeting his chest with yours and it was as much of a first move as you could manage. Shyness still swallowed you, your heart beating embarrassingly fast and all you wanted to do was push up onto your toes and press your lips to Eddie’s but if he rejected you now - for whatever reason - you think you’d have to quit your job and move back to Chicago. 

Your back was against the worktop edge, softened only by the way Eddie let his other hand cup your hip and your chest was against his, chin tilted up to look at him, eyes half lidded and matching his own. You could see every freckle, the fan of his lashes, a tiny silver scar on the left corner of his bottom lip that you’d never noticed before. You wondered if he was close enough to feel the heat from your face, the way your bones must’ve been rattling from the thunder of your heartbeat. 

It was delicious, the way he crowded you, thumb pushing into your cheek so you’d tilt your head up for him, noses almost brushing now, just waiting for something to give. It had been two months of working alongside Eddie Munson, two months of being his friend, learning how he worked, what each of his smiles meant, how lucky you were to receive one. 

Two months of wondering how much longer it would take until he would kiss you. 

He licked his bottom lip, tongue peeking out just slightly, eyes studying every move you made, so hesitate, so unsure, as if the way you were pressing yourself against him wasn’t enough of a clue. “We could, uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, nervous. His hand was squeezing the dough of your hip over your dress, the soft material bunching in his palm. “We could watch a movie, if you wanted.”

He said it so distractedly that you were sure the boy didn’t actually know what he was asking. Eddie’s pupils were blown wide, eyes dark, a familiar sight except there wasn’t the haze of smoke between you both now. You smiled, nervous and shy and giddy and brave all at once. 

“I don’t wanna watch a movie, Eddie,” you breathed and out and the boy folded, the boy melted like butter under the hot sun and you saw his brows draw together, his tense shoulders fall in relief and then he was nodding, eyes on your mouth and moving closer and closer—

“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighed in return, pushing into you in a rush, his lips crashing to yours before he even finished talking. 

 It felt like kismet, that first kiss. It felt like it was supposed to happen, because after your heart soared and your stomach somersaulted, Eddie moved his head one way and tilted yours the other, drawing him closer still with your fingers hooked into the collar of his T-shirt. He made the softest noise, nose pushed to your cheek, his thumb dragging over the corner of your mouth and when you gasped for him, his tongue touched your bottom lip, a silent question. 

More?

You parted your lips for him, kiss deepening, Eddie’s hand on your waist gripping you tighter as your tongue licked over his and you couldn’t remember when kissing someone felt like this. It felt like a summer heatwave, like someone taking care of you, it felt like a bowl of the most perfect food pushed in front of you, like cracking your fucking head off a table and watching the world spin. 

There wasn’t any noise in the trailer except for the hum of the still open fridge door and the soft, breathy sounds from both of you. A sigh, a gasp, a muted groan. It was easy to get caught up in it, no one to interrupt, a whole evening, just for you two. It was a long time coming, a simmering pot, finally bubbling over and when you let out a little moan when Eddie’s hand trailed from your jaw down to your neck, fingers splayed over your throat, the boy pulled back to pant heavily and swear. 

Any shyness you’d ever felt was gone with the way he was looking at you, curls falling across flushed cheeks, lips swollen and probably a matching yours. You reached for him, desperate, your hands tangling into his hair as you tried not to pout. “Don’t stop. Please, Eddie,” you whispered and your voice cracked with need and god, it made Eddie’s eyes stutter shut, jaw dropping before tensing. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he was whispering, moving back to you with an eagerness that was almost overwhelming. 

You thought he was going to kiss you again, but he ducked just slightly and you squeaked when you felt his palms, warm and calloused and so fucking big, wrap around the backs of your thighs. He hauled you up, setting you on the edge of the kitchen counter so you were at his height and both of you ignored the angry squeal of the coffee container, the bread bin and mug stand as your body pushed them out of the way. A new pace was set now and Eddie’s mouth was back on yours before you could ask. 

A desperate, messy kind of kiss, deep and longing and all tongues and teeth. The boy nipped at your bottom lip, groaned when you whined and you didn’t even think twice about bringing your legs up to his hips, caging him in and pulling him against you until you felt the scratch of denim again the cotton of your underwear. 

It should’ve been too much too fast, it should’ve. 

But it wasn’t. 

“This okay?” Eddie asked you breathlessly, words gasped between kisses. He pulled back just slightly, hands cupping your hot cheeks, thumbs soothing over the apples of them. His forehead pressed against yours, a grounding touch. “We don’t have to— just tell me if you wanna stop, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut because you were already pulling him back to you and Eddie followed willingly, one hand dropping to your knee, coasting upupup until he was squeezing at the dough of your thigh and groaning into your open mouth. You felt like a couple of teenagers, making out somewhere you weren’t supposed to, getting felt up by your crush in his parents kitchen. It made you dizzy, it made you wet, embarrassingly so. A dirty, hot throb that wrecked your body and lit up, electric, every time Eddie touched you somewhere new. 

He didn’t go any higher, his hand stayed there, respectful as he could be when you were kissing him like you didn’t ever want to stop. A few inches below the hem of your dress, practically a gentleman, but his tongue was doing wonderful things against yours and when you rocked yourself a little, using your arms around his neck to press yourself against him, Eddie’s own hips canted forward and he moaned.  

It made it easier to drop his other hand from your neck, fingertips skimming just along the curve of your breast before he was dripping your waist and pulling you into him. It wasn’t the best place to be grinding against each other, not when the sofa and his bed were both so close by. But the height of the counter made for the perfect kind of friction and it was dizzying being so close, to be so wrapped up in Eddie. He smelled the same, like lemongrass and smoke and a little bit of cologne. 

And when you gripped his curls a little tighter than before and tugged, Eddie fucking whined into your open mouth, barely kissing, just panting into each other's lips and his gentlemanly touch on you wavered. His hand skirted up, fingers sliding under the hem of your red dress and when they skimmed over the elastic edge of your underwear, he was swearing, eyes squeezing shut tighter and raking his blunt nails back down your thigh.

You shuddered, ripping away from Eddie’s lips to suck in a breath but the boy only moved to your neck and you keened at the touch, opened mouth kisses along the line of your throat, his tongue peeking out to lick across your skin, teeth grazing and fiu let him, head thrown back until the already tender spot hir against the kitchen cabinets. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. 

Not when Eddie was dragging his fingers across the neckline of your dress, pushing your sleeve out of the way to expose your shoulders, kissing and sucking at the crook of your neck, mouthing his way down your chest, no bra straps to get in his way. You sighed, the sound coming out with the letters of his name, a noise that made him groan aloud and fuse his lips back to yours, your fingers splayed out over his jaw so you could keep him there. 

You were on fire. It was hotter than being in the kitchen. The simmering pot was spilling over now, the flames were licking higher and the lid of it was crashing to the floor, jolting you back to reality. 

You pulled back, sucking in air, eyes unfocused and the world was spinning too fast and god you just needed to—   

“We should slow down,” Eddie gasped, sounding as wrecked as you felt. His hands were still on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, two hands smoothing up and down your thighs. “Fuck, you’re— that was—”

“Yeah,” you agreed and god you sounded drunk. “I know.”

You tried to diffuse the heat, tried to turn down the flame so everything went back down to a simmer, smiling softly as if the kitchen was on metaphorical fire and Eddie wasn’t harder than he’d ever been in his life. “Umm, do you, d’you wanna eat now?”

Eddie laughed into your neck, cheeks flushed rosy pink and he was hot all over, breathless and the happiest he’d been in a long time. He hummed, nodding before he pulled back, dotting a kiss to your lips, much more chaste than before. He couldn’t help himself, placed another on your cheek, your jaw, the slope of you nose too. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned. “How does a grilled cheese sound?”

You laughed too, nodding, because you didn’t think you’d be able to focus on chopping up ingredients or kneading out a dough right now either. “You gonna make it real fancy for me?” 

Eddie beamed, brows scrunched together in disbelief, like he was shocked you had to even ask. “What? Sweetheart, please,” he pushed one last kiss to your lips, grimaced at the open fridge door and kicked it shut witn his foot. “S’gonna be the fanciest grilled cheese you’ve ever had.”

—————

“You have a hickey,” Robin poked at your neck, stating the news very matter of factly as she leaned in between the drivers seat and yours. 

You batted at her hand, eyes wide, cheeks hot as you leaned back to glare at her. “What? No I don’t.”

Steve snorted and pulled into the diner parking lot, joining Eddie’s van and the other few cars that were waiting for a late breakfast. “Wow, that sounded so believable,” he deadpanned. “Enjoy your hot date with the chef last night?”

The day after your dinner with Eddie only egged on your good mood. A bright day, with blue skies and warm air, the kind of Sunday morning that was straight out of a photograph, big white clouds, sunflower fields in the distance, the smell of coffee and waffles coming from the diner doors. 

Eddie had dropped you back at your apartment late, later then he should’ve when he was starting work at six am the next day but you’d stayed to eat grilled cheeses on the sofa with him, pretending to watch some B-roll horror movie as you talked about everything and nothing, legs draped over his lap. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to say but your words got tangled in a grin and they came out too happy, making Steve’s eyes roll as he climbed out of the car. 

“You’re a fuckin’ awful liar,” he told you over the roof and Robin snorted in agreement, bending down to peer at her reflection in Steve’s window. She snapped her gum, baby pink against rose coloured lip balm and flipped Steve off when he popped her bubble. “And we’re all late, ‘cause someone couldn’t find their keys, c’mon.”

It felt like a proper friendship, the way you walked around the side of the diner with Steve and Robin, jostling each other and laughing when they took it too far, the girl shrieking when Steve pulled her into a headlock, encouraging you with a grin to give her a noogie. And the laughter bled into the kitchen when you all stumbled into the fire exit door reserved for staff, smoke breaks and crying sessions in the alleyway. But the laughter stopped when you caught sight of Eddie at his station, whisking a bowl of egg yolks and butter, exactly like you expected him to be at eleven am on a sunday. 

You didn’t expect the girl, though. Or recognise her.

Strawberry blonde and petite, her uniform shorter than yours, her elbows leaning on Eddie’s station as she beamed up at him. She was pretty. Really pretty.

She turned at the noise of the three of you coming into the kitchen, laughter still on Steve’s lips, a faux argument brewing between him and Robin as they tailed off towards the lockers. You stayed standing, a little shocked. You weren’t sure why, you knew there was staff you hadn’t met before, seasonal members of the diner who split their time between Jim’s and other jobs. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

She was just— standing too close to the boy you spent the night making out with. 

Eddie had put down the bowl and whisk, cleaned his hands on the front of his apron and smiled at you,  his face lighting up at the sight, a genuine slice of joy in what was about to be an awkward moment. He said your name, almost shy, looking like he didn’t know how to greet you. 

“This is, uh, this is—” he gestured to the girl, trailing off when she bounced over to you, hand extended. 

“I’m Chrissy, it’s so nice to meet you,” she gushed. “You’re new, right?”

“Uh, kinda,” you laughed a little weakly. You didn’t feel new anymore. You felt like you belonged. You told her your name, even though she’d already heard Eddie say it. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

No one else really knew what to say then and your plans to greet Eddie with a kiss seemed ruined. The boy looked at you as if he were thinking the same, his smile lopsided and sweet. But he dished the eggs into a pot and started scrambling them, brushing away a stray curl with the back of his hand and he asked you, “have you had breakfast?”

You rolled your eyes, affection lingering there and you relaxed a little, knowing this routine, loving this routine. You grabbed your apron from the hook, tying it round your waist as you brushed past him, a hand skimming his lower back, the closest thing you could do to a greeting. 

Chrissy tracked the movement with curious eyes. 

“Not yet,” you told him softly and you ached to perch yourself on the stool by his station - your stool - but Chrissy had already walked back over and claimed it. “You gonna tell me off?”

You said it shyly, a hint of flirt there, cheeks warm and smile soft as you gazed up at the boy. Eddie responded in kind, the tips of his ears turning pink and he tried to scowl at you, brows pinching together but he grinned like he couldn’t help it. “I would, if I knew it would work,” he smiled down at you, head tilted to the side all lazy. “You want some eggs? Or I could make you some pancakes?”

And before you could tell him that eggs were perfectly fine, Chrissy’s voice interrupted, she was pushing herself onto the table, leaning on her hands, cheeks coloured with a pretty pink blush and squished together. “Don’t tell me I leave for the summer and you’ve got another favourite waitress already,” she pouted, lips shiny and glassy and pink. “I thought I was your number one, Ed.”

Her words made you feel too warm. That rolling heat that creeped across your chest, your neck, your face. An awfully uncomfortable sensation, anxious, unsettled. You tried to laugh when she did, but the sound came out weak, stilted. Chrissy was looking at Eddie, confident, playful, so sure of herself. 

She looked at him like she really knew him, like there was an inside joke that you didn’t know about. 

You backed away, ignoring how Eddie’s hand tried to catch yours. “Uh, I’m actually not that hungry,” you smiled but it wavered. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “Thanks though. I’ll, um, I’ll catch up with you later. It was nice meeting you, Chrissy,” you nodded at her, hoping she didn’t see your glassy eyes before you turned and left them in the kitchen. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #linecook!eddie

[hysteria-things]

COULD U POSSIBLY MAKE A MATT FIC BASED OFF OF THIS TIKTOK OR SONG (YOU CAN DECIDE IF U WANT IT TO BE SMUT OR NOT IF U DO MAKE ONE) https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8wp5H2t/

🔗

MY OH MY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you get into a pickle when you get poured on, but don’t worry… somebody comes to save you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, p in v, ass grabbing, faux sympathy, cum eating (🙈)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,400

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: meant to post earlier but tumblr decided to close the draft without saving as i was proofreading/editing🤣

hope you enjoy @sluttyformatt :)

rain trickles down your hair to your shoes; workout clothes soaked.

you wanted to go on a late-night walk, then suddenly it started pouring out of nowhere. currently, you’re standing under a roof edge, arms crossed while you wait for your ride.

your brother isn’t around to pick you up, so your last resort was his best friend. he’s your brother’s age, who’s two years older than you. he’s known him ever since high school, yet your mother always said matt was a bad influence.

although, you do see where she’s coming from. matt was the type to always get in trouble in school, and overall he’s just a big grump. he’s only been nice to you, your brother, and of course his siblings.

headlights glow down the street, getting closer until the minivan stops in front of you. you quickly head over to it, open the door, and get in on the passenger’s side. “hi matty!” you beam. “thank you so much for picking me up. i didn’t know it was going to rain.”

he looks at you, wearing the leather jacket he’s had for as long as you can remember.

he truly doesn’t understand how you can be so happy no matter what, even if you are drenched in water. “you should’ve checked the weather before you left.” he mumbles, putting the car in drive.

“well, it was sunny all day. i didn’t expect rain. it’s okay, though. it’s like a surprise shower.” you smile, fastening the seatbelt.

“uh oh,” you say, looking through your fanny pack that you have strapped to your stomach.

he sighs, still focusing on the road. “what is it now?”

“i may or may not have left my keys home and locked myself out. nobody’s home.” you lick your teeth. “can i come to your place until my brother picks me up? pretty please, matty?”

“fine.” he inhales sharply. “and stop calling me matty.”

it’s silent as you two sit on the couch. your brother texted you saying he’ll let you know when he’s on his way, but god knows how long that’ll be. (despite it being almost midnight)

matt notices a shiver, taking his eyes off of his phone to look. your hands rub up and down your arms trying to warm up, but the chattering of your teeth indicates that it isn’t helping. “go to my room and grab one of my hoodies and pajama pants. they should be in my dresser.” he says coolly.

you smile. “it’s okay, i can wait. i’m fine.”

“put them on.” he demands. “you’re soaking wet and freezing.”

staring at him, he keeps staring back because of your silence. “go.”

you sigh like a child, getting up from the couch and walking down the hallway into his bedroom.

matt’s clothes are far too big on you, but you do feel warmer and more comfortable. his pants hang low just past your waistline. the hoodie on the other hand is long, causing the sleeves to give you sweater paws.

you sit on the chair he has in the corner, scrolling on your phone. matt can’t help but stand at the doorway, watching you.

not in a creepy way, but the fact you’re wearing his clothes has his dick reacting from the view. the way it’s too big for your body turns him to fuck on.

he cannot feel this way toward you. your his best friend’s sister, for god’s sake. but he can’t help it.

“feel better?”

you get startled by his voice. “yes, thank you.”

“told you so,” he grumbles.

rolling your eyes playfully, you stand up. “i didn’t mean to linger in here. i got distracted.”

as you start to walk by him, he grabs onto your shoulders to stop you. your breath hitches at the feeling of his rings; the way they drag down your arm makes you subconsciously clench your thighs together.

his cologne floods your nostrils, and the way he’s looking at you is different now.

he’s always been a grumpy kid and had a resting bitch face, but now he’s looking at you seductively and with need.

the hand that was on your arm now cups the front of your neck. there’s no pressure, but the fingers with no rings go over your bottom lip.

he sighs sympathetically. “it sucks that you’re off limits. i would so fuck you right now.”

your eyebrows raise high from the sudden courage he had to just blurt that out. however, you smirk.

“if you kiss me.” you shrug. “i might let it happen.”

he groans, leaning down to smash his lips on yours.

still intact, you grab his jacket and pull him in closer, your bodies moving at the same rhythm.

he starts to push you back to where the chair is, turning you 180° so he’s the one sitting in it while you straddle his lap.

your hips grind, rubbing just the right spot on not only you but him also. you smile into the kiss when you feel him hardening beneath you.

tugging at the pants you're wearing, he pulls away. “take these off.”

you shimmy them down your legs as he unbuckles his belt and pulls his bottoms down below his thighs. he grabs your hips to hover you over him, but stops and teases the tip.

you wiggle to get some friction as he smirks. “manners.”

“please.” you whine. “please let me ride your cock. i’m so fucking wet for you.”

matt sinks you slowly onto him, your walls immediately stretching to his size. “i didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth.”

you mumble something into his chest, bouncing uncontrollably on his dick. your sweater paws ball up on his biceps. your ass slaps repeatedly on his skin, the sound echoing off the walls.

he tuts, grabbing your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. “why so quiet?”

“stop.” you mewl, nuzzling your face even deeper into his body. your face is hot from embarrassment.

“is somebody embarrassed to be fucking her brother’s best friend? it looks like ms. goody-two-shoes is a little naughty.” he says lowly into your ear, causing you to start whimpering and going even faster.

it doesn’t take long for his tip to brush against the right spot “oh, fuck.” you moan, legs shaking at his sides.

“better not get this chair dirty, otherwise i’ll make you clean it,” he warns, knowing that you can’t control your orgasm.

pouting, you clench hard. of course, your release runs down his thighs and onto the seat. your eyes are glassed over while you look at him, who’s shaking his head. “you’re making a mess.”

somehow so quickly, he lifts you off of him and onto the floor. now, he’s behind you, and your cheek leans against the chair.

he again nudges at your entrance, this time you buck your hips back but he grips them tight. “clean up your mess first.”

he doesn’t ask. he orders while pushing your head down further into the cushion.

obeying, you flick your tongue onto your arousal. normally, you’d find this gross, but you’re so wet and turned on that you’ll listen to whatever he says. his presence feels like you are under a spell.

a sweet and salty taste fall on your tongue, following his instructions to a t.

a hum of approval is heard behind you. he spreads your legs wider, slamming into you with no warning.

you moan loudly, arching as much as you can in this position. “m-matt! shit, matt!” you yelp.

he grunts, taking in how well your pussy feels engulfing him.

tears threaten to spill from your eyes once they roll back, moaning loud and clear when your g-spot gets abused already.

strings of curses leave your lips, the way he’s balls deep inside of you right now have you quiver a lot. “you feel—” you pause, licking your lips and shutting your eyes tight. “so good. like… holy fucking god.”

he chuckles, placing his hand on your shoulder to drill into you harder. before you even know that it’s happening, you cum for the second time, shaking uncontrollably from the pleasure.

a deep breath later, matt makes sure to pull out and paint your back white.

“you can keep the clothes.” he says, jiggling your ass to play with it. “so you can wear them the next time i fuck you.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog

#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests! #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut

[ozzgin]

Hi, first i wanted to thank you for doing my first request, it's amazing 😍. Since you did it so fast i wanted to ask for something else.

Could you do something with a Prehistoric reader. She's from the Jurassic like Pickle, she was frozen and brought back to life like him. However she's less agressive and a bit smarter than him. I kinda saw her like a big ( dangerous ) mama Bear, who likes those tiny humans.

I trust you for the rest, you can choose if you want to write about first meeting with fighters (which i find funny in the anime by the way ), how she was during Pickle's fight or what's her interactions with the fighters ...

Thank you for reading this , bye.

I’m so glad you enjoyed it! The speed may vary depending on how easily I can visualize the prompt, since I need a solid movie in my head before putting it into words. Not very efficient but so far it’s been working haha. :’)

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Fem Reader

Featuring Pickle’s challengers: Kaiou Retsu, Katsumi Orochi, Jack Hanma and Baki Hanma.

Backstory

A million thoughts raced the scientists’ minds upon discovering not just one, but two subjects perfectly maintained within the saline block. Were you partners? Would it be possible or expected that you continue your ancient lineage? While the idea was incredibly tempting from a researcher’s perspective, it was equally dangerous. They considered separating the two of you in order to avoid the risk, but they soon discovered that your help was needed to protect everyone else from the enraged prehistoric man.

The female specimen seemed to have a much more docile and cooperative temperament, with strong maternal instincts. Could it be that she viewed the much smaller modern humans as children? (Y/N) wasn’t that dumb. She could very well tell that these new forms of her own image are matured, but she could also easily asses how fragile they are based on their extreme fear and helplessness against Pickle. They haven’t showed any intent to attack her or Pickle, so she had no reason to be hostile. Pickle was rather frustrated by her frequent scolding, but his expressions seemed to indicate that (Y/N) always had a kind heart towards weaker creatures and it wasn’t his first time having to satisfy her pity. He begrudgingly accepted it.

The Meeting

Truth be told, most of the men had gathered in order to measure up Pickle’s strength. And he was eager to prove it after his quick encounter with Yuujirou’s mysterious techniques. It was only when you stood up and let out a warning growl that they realized the faint beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. Pickle had immediately cleared the way and even the Ogre himself grounded his stance, ready for anything. What a majestic creature, they all thought. Feminine beauty carefully chiseled into a powerful physique, adorned with muscles that would put any bodybuilder today to shame. The same arms that lovingly cradle infants with motherly devotion could easily crush bones and twist frail bodies.

The smell of fear lingered for aggravatingly long moments. You gently placed your large hand on Yuujirou’s shoulder and used the other one to point behind him. Only then did they notice the bright helicopter lights and pleading voices asking them to evacuate. You were looking out for them.

Kaiou Retsu

He’d love to challenge you. Truly. But not only are you a woman, you’ve also never shown Pickle’s excitement for battle. He respects your decision and would never impose his wishes on you.

After his fight with Pickle, he wakes up intact and notices you standing over his wounded body. A miserable smile spreads over his face as the realization hits him: you just don’t want to harm them. That’s why you never fight.

He’s not sure what hurts most. The damage Pickle has done, or his ego after realizing that all you have for them is pity. He’s going to need to find other ways to impress you.

Retsu later catches you trying to reproduce some of his moves and wonders if he’d be allowed to teach you martial arts. Or would that make you too dangerous?

Katsumi Orochi

Unlike Retsu, the damage he’s done to his arm couldn’t be prevented. You allow Pickle to remove the limb given the extensive injury.

Like a father that just played too hard with his children, Pickle follows you around apologetically, as if explaining he had no fault in this.

Katsumi is a little shocked to find you in his hospital room. Embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable state by someone like you, he waves his arm frantically and rattles the sheets, mumbling explanations and reassurances. You just stare in confusion. He forgot you can’t understand language.

You wonder if he can survive with one missing limb, as back in your day this handicap could’ve proven fatal in the long run. Should you provide the food for him? The hospital staff entrusts you to deliver Katsumi his meals after they noticed you hunting in the guest garden.

You insist on helping with grooming duties like hair brushing, though Katsumi had to thoroughly gesticulate he’s not as open to being naked in front of you. Please don’t assist him when he’s changing his clothes. Let him have the last remaining bit of manliness.

Jack Hanma

How stubborn! Jack is the first one to feel your mama bear anger. After the fight with Pickle he kept coming back for more, despite being barely conscious. Pickle was becoming increasingly afraid of upsetting you and would throw you worried looks, unsure how to proceed. Eventually you put Jack in a headlock and dragged him back to the hospital yourself.

The next time Jack wakes up, he notices you standing in the door frame, arms folded and flexed in a threatening manner. He can’t help but chuckle at the view. To think that a woman would have such an iron grip on him. Well, you’re no ordinary woman.

As before, you’re unsure of his recovering abilities. You attempt to feed him yourself several times and Jack has to politely suggest that he’s not as frail as you might think. Though somewhere deep down he might secretly enjoy being spoiled like this. He’d never, ever admit it.

Baki Hanma

Baki took you through a rollercoaster of emotions; from being worried that such a tiny, young boy insists on challenging the prehistoric man to squealing in shock at his unexpected strength. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d be able to defeat him if you were standing there instead of Pickle.

Unlike the others, Baki has no issue relying on you. In fact, he’s almost shameless about it. Absolutely he is too injured to walk! You can go ahead and carry him. He’ll quickly wrap his arms around your neck and cling to you, grinning.

I think he’d really love the idea that someone as strong as you is also kind and likable. He doesn’t have to worry about proving himself or that you’d look down on him. He’s really craving this newly fond protectiveness of a mother.

He likes teasing Pickle by holding onto you whenever he sees you. The Jurassic man has been on the edge ever since you’ve started becoming attached to these tiny humans. He almost can’t get a moment alone with you. Which makes him extra irritable. You sigh at the two menaces that find new ways to mess with you.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki x reader #pickle baki #kaiou retsu #jack hanma #katsumi orochi #baki hanma #baki headcanons

[trashmouth-richie]

i had a filthy dream last night that inspired this, enjoy

smut, 18+ only; eddie x you steve x you

you were nestled in eddie’s lap, neck full of hickeys and slicked with spit, his curls tickling the tops of your breasts, big hands on the fat of your ass.

steve was behind you, nibbling on skin, his broad nose rubbing against your hair line behind your ear, whispering nothing but filth.

“you ready for him sweet girl?” eddie purred into your neck, locking eyes with steve.

—

it was your first thanksgiving as a couple with eddie, and when the phone rang with a heartbroken steve on the other end, there was no way you could have imagined it would end up like this.

but you graciously opened up your home for the night for steve, filling wine glasses to the brim and making yourself scarce so your bf and his bestfriend could talk out steve’s love life woes.

steve had always been a flirt towards you, a little too friendly kisses on the cheek in greeting that soon led to linger hugs, him pressing your body flush to his.

eddie didn’t mind, almost always encouraging it, always showing you off, look at my girl stevie she’s fucking gorgeous isn’t she? steve would lick his lips with a haunted expression on his face before he excused himself from the room.

after a few bottles of wine and a heart to heart between the two guys, steve sat wide legged on the couch, eyes glazed over in a hooded drunk expression, watching your every move.

after checking on the turkey, and wiping your hands off on the emerald apron wrapped around your waist, steve patted the couch cushion next to him, beckoning you to come and sit down.

he sighs, shifting further into the couch and you pat his leg eyes looking up to him in remorse. nancy was your friend too, and you couldn’t believe she would do that to him.

“you can stay with us as long as you need, you’re always welcome here steve.” eyes brimming with tears as he smiles tiredly down at you, the knit cables on his brown sweater matching his eyes.

he smiles warmly, and looks down to the way your skirt has ridden up on your thighs, the garter set you wore for eddie now on display for anyone to see, and you sheepishly start to yank your skirt down before steve’s warm hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

your heart is in your throat and you absentmindedly lick your lips, looking up at steve through your lashes.

he dips closer to you, nose brushing your own.

“you don’t have to hide those pretty thighs from me, honey.”

your stomach feels like it’s going to bottom out. steve was handsome in a boy next door type of way, you drunkenly admitted that to eddie once and he never let you forget it, not in a mean way, but in a way that made you think given the opportunity, steve could be your third.

but that would never happen. because steve was with nancy. besides the shameless flirting was just playful, harmless. it meant nothing.

his fingers move up your thigh, fingering the lace of the black set on your legs, letting them go with a snap.

“y’know…eddie’s cool with this if you are.”

suddenly your mouth was dry and your pussy was wet.

eddie turned around the corner from the kitchen, a pickle crunched loud between his teeth and he looks at you, a devil smirk on his lips.

“this what you want sweet girl? i think our poor guest deserves some company, don’t you?” another pickle snaps between his teeth, his smile broadens when your thighs push together in a clench.

“think we got our answer munson.”

steve’s nose brushes the underside of your chin, kissing your neck in sweet sweeps of his lips, a tickle of his tongue. his hands grab your hip, pulling you towards him.

it was all moans and smacks of lips against hot flesh, your shirt came off in a flash and your fingers were wrapped in steve’s hair, his lips pressed to yours bruisingly sweet.

eddie stood and watched, coaching steve on the way you liked to be kissed, the right position to get you off, and then he joined in.

it was too much, the familiar touch if eddie and the new sting of steve.

“listen big boy, her pussy is mine, but that ass is all yours.” eddie instructed, having switched positions with steve so you were now straddling his hips.

you moaned into his mouth, barely able to keep yourself still when you heard the zip of steve’s pants coming undone, you had ridden his lap for almost a half hour, your pussy was clenched around his clothed cock and you knew it was big, big as thick as eddie’s but longer.

eddie’s hands spread your ass cheeks wide, and steve spit on your waiting hole.

“i’ll go slow honey, okay?” he murmured kissing your temple.

“she can handle it, this nasty girl loves her ass stuffed, don’t you baby?” eddie grunts, grinding you down into his lap, trying to pull another orgasm for you before steve has is way with you.

the mushroom top of steve’s cock presses heavy on your hole and you’re mewling for him, gasping when he pushes in further, eddie’s hands holding you open and steady for steve’s cock.

“so fuckin’ tight,” steve groans, “goddamn.”

it takes a few mins for you to adjust to his length, but when you finally do, eddie shoves his own cock into your slippery slick and your cock drunk on them both, full to the hilt, nothing but breathy moans and sweat slicked bodies sliding together between the three of you.

they move in tandem, taking it slow at first and then faster, you’re whimpering and moaning, clit red and banded from eddie’s and your fingers. steve’s bite marks on your shoulder.

when they come eddie yells out, and steve practically tears bites a hole through his lip, telling you how you’re so fucking good for them.

when you wake you’re in your own bed, eddie holding you, your forehead pressed into his chest, steve’s lips snug against your back.

it was the happiest thanksgiving you’ve ever had. burnt turkey and all.

s/o to lexapro for the wildest dreams on the planet

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #steve x you #steve harrington smut #throuple #steddie #stevie x you #steve harrington fanfic

[starrykirsche]

Holaa can you write a short fic based on the headcannon you wrote ab tom (this one: Gets turned on by cuddling with you, but lowkey blue balls himself so that he doesn’t disturb you )

Like hes cuddling reader and gets rlly turned on but wakes her up by like accidentally moaning in her ear or something and reader is just like "tom are you hard??" and hes so embarrassed

I just think that would be so cute +++ i love ur work!!

god i love this ty for the req !!!

here’s the link for the tokio hotel cuddling headcannons this fic is derived from!

Sleep Well?

a Tom Kaulitz cuddle fic

content: cuddling, smut, self induced edging, fluff

synopsis: you and Tom are cuddling, you fall asleep in his arms and, Tom being Tom, gets himself in a pickle… because of his pickle

Tom gives you a loving squeeze from behind you and you smile softly. With your back firmly pressed against his chest, he holds you in his arms for dear life. A movie plays in the background, one that the both of you stopped watching a while ago. You can feel yourself growing more comfortable in his arms— and therefor sleepier too. The warmth of Tom cocooning you in himself has lulled you half to sleep, your eyelids growing heavier by the second. You feel a little kiss pressed onto the back of your neck by those all too familiar lips, decorated by a metal ring. Letting out a wayward sigh, you let your eyes shut.

It doesn’t take long until Tom realizes that you’ve grow still in his arms. “Schatzi? You asleep?” He mumbles gruffly, squeezing your arm. When he gets no response he lets out a little sound that almost sounds like a whine, and buries his face in your neck. Tom can feel the already palpably throbbing sensation below his belt grow. But he doesn’t dare do anything about it. This isn’t the time, he reminds himself. You’re the most important thing to him, he wouldn’t even think about disturbing you right now.

The seconds feel like minutes to him, but Tom makes the most of it. Having you in his arms is all he really needs… but the pulsing of his erection is hard to ignore. He shifts around a bit, oh so careful not to wake you, and presses his face against the back of your neck. Kissing the skin there, to try and distract from the stiffness at his crotch, he groans again. Biting the side of his lip that isn’t pierced, he tries to fill his thoughts with all the lovely things about you. He pets your hair and very quickly realizes that even the most un-explicit things make him squirm.

Slowly rubbing his hand up and down your upper arm, you shift in your sleep. Pressing yourself against his hips, he lets out a little strangled sound. Clutching onto you like his life depends open it as his erection presses up against your body.

It’s a painful, yet exhilarating few minutes of Tom’s huffing breaths and shaking hands on your body. He lets out a moan, one much louder than he anticipated and you find yourself groggily waking up. The first few things you feel as you awaken once more are the warmth of Tom’s body, his heavy breath against your neck and…

“Tom are you hard…?”

His body becomes stiff behind you, his previously panting like breathing becoming hitched.

Tom clears his throat, “How’d you sleep?” He asks, instead of answering. His cheeks completely flushed from embarrassment.

You press against his clothed erection, it’s hard to miss.

“Tom, are you hard?” You ask again, more definitively this time.

He sighs against your shoulder and gulps down a wave of nervous shame, “I didn’t want to wake you,” Tom mumbles. He lets out a shaky little sigh and presses his face against your shoulder.

“Cute.” You giggle as you turn around to look at him.

Tom blushes and looks down at you nervously,“What..?”

“That’s cute.” You clarify, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling your chests flush. He wraps his arms around your body. Feeling you settle against him, he grows antsy to fix the��� lingering problem downstairs.

“Um… hey..” He mumbles as he traces his hand down your back.

“Oh! Right, right,” You say, kissing Tom’s cheek before you duck beneath the sheets.

“Fuck—“



#tom kaulitz #tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel fanfic #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #smut #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #fanfic #tokio hotel fluff

[pierperian-leisure]

Harvey SDV Headcannons

This man knows he smells like antiseptic. He tries to carefully hide it under well maintained cologne (sandalwood and patchouli, he thinks it matches his vibe) and walks outside during the workday when he can, but the distinct hospital smell always manages to linger just slightly

Body hair. His arms when his shirt sleeves are rolled up, little tufts above the collar of his shirt, just... send tweet.

Speaking of hair, he keeps his WELL maintained. The man's mustache is so soft and well kept, as is the hair on his head. He didn't specialize in dermatology, but went through a phase where he made sure to learn proper hair care to keep his as healthy as possible.

His love language is physical touch. He will take any excuse to be in contact, even if it just means locking pinkies for one last second of touch when you part ways for the day.

Sam talked him and Shane into the ASS trio's DnD group... He surprisingly plays as a sorcerer.

When the spring and summer come in the valley, freckles can be seen all across Harvey's nose and checks (his mom called them angel kisses growing up. Harvey knows the real reason for the spots now, but holds onto this version instead)

This man is CAKED. Like he does regularly does aerobics... cmon

Once you're married, Harvey will develop a habit of twiddling his wedding ring throughout the day, with a small smile just noticeable as he does

When the clinic is slow, he and Maru will have trash bin basketball competitions... he won't admit it but Maru is more often than not the winner.

When you're married and Harvey lives on the farm as well, he takes over the pickling and winery. He gets quite good at crafting artisanal wines. You will often find him either attempting new mixes, or researching the wine making process. It becomes a new hobby, alongside his model planes.

If you and he eventually choose to have kids, Harvey SO has baby sized model planes ready for your child. He's so excited to be a dad.

Contrary to popular belief, he does not have old timey pajamas. The man is actually a furnace, and sleeps with as little clothes as possible, which is quite handy in the winter months

He can't fall asleep without being wrapped up with the farmer though

#harvey sdv x reader #harvey sdv #harvey x farmer #stardew harvey #stardew valley #stardew farmer #headcannons

[devildom-moss]

PDA - kissing their cheeks (the dateables)

What happens when MC decides to kiss their cheek around others? It couldn't possibly go wrong, right?

(Diavolo x gn!MC) (Barbatos x gn!MC) (Simeon x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +1,900

Diavolo

It’s hard to kiss Diavolo’s cheek in public – in part because Barbatos has warned you about inappropriate displays of affection with the prince (he’s right, but he might also be a bit jealous, too). However, a bit of affection in front of close friends isn’t too bad. It’s not like you can get Diavolo alone whenever you want. Certainly, Barbatos and Diavolo can excuse a bit of impropriety from time to time.

As often seemed to be the case, Diavolo was stuck in the student council room with a large stack of documents. Lucifer and Barbatos were hard at work by his side. Satan was typing up documents on his cat-deco covered computer. Mammon, Levi, and Belphegor were also tasked with simple clerical work – although only two of the three were currently of any use. Barbatos was permitting Belphegor to nap for another five minutes before a harsh awakening was due. All this to say that the council room was busy but relatively calm this afternoon. You had finished up your work – and just in time for your study session with Solomon, who had appeared in the doorframe. He waited patiently, a smug grin on his face, content to steal you away from the others for some one-on-one time, as you walked up to Diavolo with your stack of forms.

“I just finished up. The blue tabs indicate areas that require your signature.” You smiled at him, knowing that you had taken an extra minute or two to draw small hearts on each of those tabs. “That’s all of it, correct?”

“Yes, thank you, MC,” Diavolo spoke flatly and mindlessly set your stack of forms on the table without looking at you or his newly acquired work. He still had so much to do. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Diavolo hated paperwork almost as much as pickles – okay so maybe it wasn’t quite as bad, but you could tell he was channeling extra effort to sit there and perform his duties.

“Alright, then I’m heading out to study with Solomon. But first,” you paused to walk around his desk. You wanted to give him some of your strength somehow. It wasn’t much, but you bent down and placed a firm kiss on his cheek, lingering just long enough for someone else in the room to irritably clear his throat. With your lips still close to him, you spoke quietly, “do your best, My Lord.”

There was an intentionally seductive tinge to the words “My Lord” that was not missed by anyone who heard it – least of all Diavolo. A subtle look of surprise stayed plastered on his face. He was so focused on his work; Diavolo hadn’t expected that. As you walked towards the door, Diavolo redirected his strength to keep himself still in his seat – anything to stop from chasing after you.

You disappeared down the hall with Solomon too quickly for Diavolo’s liking. A smile played on his lips, and he let out a chuckle that fell from him like a sigh. How bold of you. Diavolo could still feel the heat in his cheek – but now it had spread to both cheeks and up his ears.

“Back to work, please, My Lord,” Barbatos chided him.

Diavolo continued with his work. His smile was slow to leave his lips, and it was renewed when he noticed the blue tabs you left on the forms. You were full of surprises today, and once his work was complete, Diavolo was determined to reward such thoughtful surprises.

Barbatos

You didn’t intend to kiss him, but Barbatos was always so attentive when you had tea at the Demon Lord’s castle. An overwhelming urge to dote on him – even just a bit – came over you. When Barbatos leaned down with his face mere inches away to pour your tea, before you could think about it, your lips were pressed to his cheek. It was enough to stall the active conversation between Lucifer and Diavolo. Even Simeon and Solomon, who were passive participants, had turned to watch the spectacle.

That silence brought you back to your senses, and you quickly pulled back and apologized, realizing it was probably inappropriate.

Barbatos smiled at you sweetly. “Don’t fret over it. It was very sweet of you, and I’m grateful, but I am still on duty. You should restrain yourself. There are more opportune moments for you to get your lips all over me.”

“Barbatos?!” Diavolo’s eyes widened, bewildered.

“I jest, My Lord,” Barbatos chuckled. “However, MC, if you would like to properly make it up to me, could you assist me in finishing the preparation for dessert in the kitchen? An extra pair of hands might be useful.”

“Of course.” You shot out of your seat almost too eagerly.

“We’ll return shortly, My Lord.”

“Wonderful,” Diavolo smiled, “thank you, Barbatos.”

Lucifer noticed a small drop of tea on the saucer next to your cup. Barbatos was usually so careful. He rubbed his temples knowingly. “That was a horrible idea.”

“Nonsense, Lucifer. Barbatos wouldn’t do anything untoward with MC in the kitchen.”

“He said nothing about Barbatos doing anything with MC in the kitchen,” Simeon pointed out. “Perhaps you already had your own doubts.”

“Should we check on them?” Solomon wondered aloud.

“I don’t see a need for that,” Diavolo shook his head and tried to resume the previous conversation he was having. However, the seeds of doubt in his mind had sprouted into something more substantial when you and Barbatos returned fifteen minutes later with a trifle that could well have been prepared ahead of time. Your bottom lip appeared redder and slightly puffier than Diavolo had remembered.

You and Barbatos continued to steal glances at each other throughout the tea. It didn’t go unnoticed, but neither of you cared – not after the desperation Barbatos had to make the most of those fifteen minutes. Certainly, nothing mattered after Barbatos had pulled away from you, panting slightly, and whispered in your ear: Don’t leave with the others later. After I’m dismissed tonight, I’d like to continue this when I can thoroughly show you my appreciation for that adorable gesture earlier. Barbatos had returned said gesture by pressing his lips to your cheek before he slipped out of your embrace to pull the trifle from the fridge. Neither of you could stop thinking about it.

Simeon

Simeon had baked for you – well, actually, he had baked for everyone, but you were the one he was thinking about the entire time. As he passed out cupcakes, he saved you for last, figuring everyone would be preoccupied enough by their treats that he could avoid attention when he gave you the final cupcake. This one was just for you. Yours was the only one with a small chocolate heart on top.

Under the sweetness of Simeon’s smile, there was a hint of mischief. He always found tiny, secretive ways to take hold of your attention. However, you knew you should probably dispose of the evidence before anyone caught on. Mammon would lose his mind and Leviathan would assemble the PDA-police, and you didn’t even want to think about what anyone else would do. You plucked the heart from atop the frosting and popped it into your mouth (cutely, Simeon would insist).

“You have frosting on your finger,” Simeon pointed out with that same, slightly devious smile. Playfully, you smeared a bit of the frosting from your fingertip onto his cheek. The cool sensation of frosting and your soft touch made him giggle. “Very cute.”

Simeon moved to wipe it off, but you grabbed his hand gently to stop him. “Wait, allow me.”

You kissed his cheek, lapping at the frosting on his skin. Simeon could feel his face heat up. Usually, he tried not to cause a scene in front of the others – just to avoid the inevitable trouble. However, if you wanted to initiate it, he wasn’t going to stop you, even though this was more than just a peck on the cheek. You were practically licking him in front of the demons and Solomon in a classroom. The door wasn’t even shut. Simeon wouldn’t dare admit how much he was enjoying this – savoring it.

“Did you get it all?” he asked, feigning innocence that no one was convinced of. You gave him one more lingering kiss on his cheek.

It was as if everyone was waiting for the scene to finish before they could speak. Then, the protest raged.

“You sneaky bastard,” Mammon barked.

“Honestly, do either of you have any shame?” Lucifer rolled his eyes.

“MC, darling, I have frosting on my lips. Will you get it for me?” Asmo cooed.

“Don’t waste frosting, Asmo.” Beel narrowed his eyes. “But I bet frosting and MC’s lips would be a tasty combination.”

“Beelzebub, I caution you against attempting to taste MC.” Barbatos sighed.

“If anyone’s going to eat MC, it should be me, right?” Lucifer smirked at you.

“Like hell,” Satan growled.

“Yeah, you’re being as selfish and greedy as Mammon,” Belphegor added.

“Pardon me?”

You’d really done it now. Under the cover of chaos, Simeon pulled you out into the hallway so you could both escape. However, before you could start down the hall, Simeon pulled you close enough to whisper in your ear. “You know, I have leftover frosting in the freezer at home. Perhaps I could return the favor?”

Solomon

It had become a group effort to get on your nerves today, and Lucifer wasn’t actually helping by focusing his anger on Levi and Mammon. His yelling didn’t stop Satan and Asmo, who were still arguing. Diavolo served as their mediator. Meanwhile, Barbatos was practically forcing food down Beel’s throat while holding him down in an attempt to sate his ravenous hunger – all with a sleeping Belphegor tossed over his shoulder. You were about to command all the brothers to “stay” and deal with Lucifer getting caught in the crossfire later when Solomon showed up. The textbook he wanted to lend you was clutched firmly to his chest. When he finally took in his surroundings, he could tell you were about to snap.

“Hold this for a second please, MC.” Solomon handed you the book with a smile. Using magic, he silenced and immobilized all the troublemakers. He gave them a stern warning to “behave for the sake of poor, overwhelmed MC.”

That pulled the right strings, and he knew he was safe to release them from his spell. The room fell quiet for a second before shameful apologies began to be muttered from various offenders. Your shoulders finally relaxed, and you thanked your wonderful, helpful, gem of a teacher.

“If only there was a way you could reward me for helping,” Solomon hummed while deliberately tapping his cheek.

You rolled your eyes before leaning in to kiss his cheek. There were about half a dozen annoyed groans harmonizing with Mammon’s shrieking before you could pull away.

Even when you did, you didn’t get far before Solomon grabbed you, pulled you close, and kissed your lips. He was almost hungry about it, and you had to force yourself to be quiet. Solomon was less restrained. Under the jealousy, Asmo was proud of Solomon for those soft moans and putting on such a stunning show.

Once he had sufficiently made his statement, Solomon broke the kiss and just grinned at you. “No need to be so shy next time.”

It was as if he was oblivious to the daggers being stared into him. The aura in the room was so tense and violent – and all that negativity was directed at him. But he was not oblivious. He simply didn’t care. He had just kissed you in front of everyone, and there was nothing they could do about it. Solomon was too pleased.

(the side characters version) | (the demon brothers version)

A/N: there's a poll up for September's community-decided fic, so go ahead and vote while you can if you're so inclined. Also, if anyone remembers the last chat text I did, the answer was Asmo, Satan, and *insert entire page worth of ad content* Levi. (But I agree with those who hoped and wanted it to be Lucifer)

#diavolo #barbatos #simeon #solomon #gn!mc #obey me dateables #obey me short fic #obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

[undercoverpena]

pickles, peppers and photos

javier peña x f!reader

summary: cleaning out the cupboards for the new year reveals more than just a cluttered kitchen.

wordcount: 2k warnings: brief and tiny mention of you struggling with new year, but pure fluff. reader has a hatred for pickles (sorry pickle lovers), no descriptions are used (banner shadows not representative. no use of y/n but javi calls you esposa and mi pimienta (hehehe). flirting. established relationship/married!javi.

an: this is my contribution to the @pickled-pena resolutions challenge! pls check out the pinned post on the pickled-pena page for more details.

When he enters the kitchen it’s a mess.

A grand explosion of things spread out over all the available surfaces.

He should have known when his outstretched hand found only cold sheets, when his eyes glanced at the clock and realised it was barely past sunrise.

Javi had considered playing ignorant, remaining in bed until you fetched him, but the sound of shattered glass, a shriek and an abundance of curses forced his legs from under the bedding.

By the time he'd dressed and come downstairs, whatever chaos had happened had been cleaned up, but the sight that still met him still made him pinch the bridge of his nose.

Every single item, from every single cupboard, had been laid out on the counter. Each item doing its best to hide the marble counter, with each kitchen cupboard flung open, revealing the carcass of the empty wooden cupboards.

Javi could argue whether it was necessary. Whether there was a point in emptying everything, to removing a handful of things before placing the rest back.

Could is the optimum word in the sentence, his hand wiping across his forehead, brushing past loose strands, as he tried to find something more optimistic to say than why?

Because he knows why.

And why is the only reason you’re on this side of the bedroom door: traditions.

Your way of getting rid of the clutter to usher in tidiness—provides a sense of renewal. Or, that's what you told others. You'd let him in on the real reason, your secret. How you struggle, how a new year feels big, overwhelming, difficult—but this helps. It keeps your mind occupied, focused, and feeling good.

Mostly, it keeps you busy—and is the only reason you’re dressed in clothes that don’t have food cartoons on them.

Not that he minds your array of comfy-and-cosy-only-for-home PJs.

Each set, some overly worn, some now mismatched, just gives him more reason to tease you that you are good enough to eat. To get close, whisper those words into your ear, either trace his fingers under your pants leg or splay his fingers up your spine, and remind you (with a roll of his hips) that he desires you whether you’re naked or dressed up, in his clothes or in colourful PJs.

You either really hate these PJs or you must really love me, Peña.

Most of the time, it's the latter. Depending on the pair, it could be both. His fingers slotting between yours as he moves you on the couch, watching your face shift into one of lust, that smile adorning your lips—the one he first fell in love with. Want me to take these off, baby, he'll reply, before he'd begin whispering (in plenty), how perfect you are, how pretty.

While you do right now look as pretty as ever, he's not sure he could say the moment was perfect.

"Do I ask?"

Peering your head out from around an open cupboard, the scent of fresh lemon and disinfectant brushes his nose. Your eyes slide over his face, before your lips twist into a smirk, head motioning to the freshly brewed pot, informing him you'd left him a cup out.

"Seems like all the mugs are out, mi pimienta."

"Funny," you snort, shaking your head.

Leaning on the counter he stares, admires. Eyes lingering on the way your jeans hug your ass, how you're hand cleaning the back of the cupboard has forced your top to rise. Swiping his thumb over his bottom lip, just continuing to watch, teeth nipping at the skin...

Because how did he get so lucky?

Him. Javier Peña. A man with a decorated and successful past, but has felt the most victorious when he's freed you out of your pickle PJs and laid you down in the sheets he helped pick out with you.

You don’t even like pickles, something he knows well.

A thing you remind him with a disgusted look and a high-pitched whisper whenever he orders burgers for the two of you.

Javi does know you like peppers, though.

His pimienta. A joke one night that stuck, a mishap, a bumble of words when you’d been trying to tell him those three words. Hands around his, candle flickering on the table:

‘Porque eres la sal de my pimienta.

If he hadn’t already known he loved you before then, he knew it at that moment. His heart burst, mirroring the way a smile slid over his face, and a laugh cracked through his chest. The sound filled the air as he watched you join him, heard it, the way your laughs merged together when you were happy.

While you never call him your salt, he has taken it upon himself to call you his pepper. Whispers it, speaks it, shouts it, grunts it when you’re nothing but fire and temptation.

"How long you been up?"

"A while," you reply, back still to him, eyes studying something in front of you. “You think you're going to eat these, Javi?”

Blinking, he stares at you as you spin to face him—spotting the two very different tins in your hand. Fruit, all canned.

He can’t even remember when you both had gotten them. Not ever recalling wanting them, never mind purchasing them with the groceries.

“Your Pops must have given them to us,” you add, adding a shrug, likely seeing the pinched expression, the evidence of his confusion. “I’ll take that as a no.”

You bend over, placing it in a box which is slowly filling.

But his eyes are only focused on your form. Over the slither of skin exposed at your back. Somehow, after all this time, the sight of you still makes him warm; the way you fit him, made things better, easier. Make him feel worthy of a slither of happiness and peace.

Plus, the way you look at him makes his mind less focused on the food he wishes to keep, and more on what he could devour if he made enough space for you on the counter.

Adjusting himself, and clearing his throat, he glances at the counter, fingers sliding over his lower jaw as he stares at the half-open boxes of pasta, the spices, and then—

Saying your name, you look at him, all wide-eyed, slowly rising to full height. “Why do we have a jar of pickles?”

Pulling a face, you shrug. “Must have been something we were given.”

“You hate pickles.”

“Very astute, Peña. Are you sure they’re not your pickles?

Tilting his head, he slides his jaw, offering it to you—the jar. Watching as your fingers twitch, not willing to take it. Your eyes don't move from him, not wanting to bow, to bend. Mostly likely, not even wishing to take the jar from him—even if the contents were safely behind thick glass and swimming in their own green-tinged juice.

“You need to get better at saying no, mi pimienta.”

“Oh, do I? Well, no las compré, which means we were gifted them. Which then means—actually, wait. You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time, ay?” Your hands move to your hips, and while your eyes have grown sharp, he can tell the teasing tone in your voice, the smirk which threatens to expose how hard you’re trying to be serious. “Where were you when the pickle jar found its way into our home? Because you know I wouldn't take it—”

He shouldn’t smile, but he does.

The smirk cracks through—sliding past your forced serious expression. Cutting through, blooming light and warmth across the rest of your face, making your eyes glint, twinkle, fucking sparkle.

Javi shouldn’t want to grab the camera from the table behind him. Shouldn’t want to snap a photo of you like this—capture it, wait to develop it and then keep it for himself to smile at another time.

In all honesty, he knows he probably doesn’t even need another photo of you. Should save the shot for the next time the two of you head out on a hike—but, fuck does he want this one. Your hands on your hips, head tilted, a smirk desperate to glide over your mouth.

He's not sure if you still love the gift you’d given him for his birthday, a sweet note attached to it: a way for you to keep capturing the now. Because he doubts you expected the now to be mainly you.

But, he liked having the moments. Them piling up in the coffee table drawer—one, in particular, inside his wallet. You all shy, hands posed where he’d said—I’d only do this for you, Javi.

He doesn’t confess that there are lots of things he has found he’d only do for you. Many of them never thought possible before you fell into his life. Just like how he’d never been one for memories.

Now, since you, he likes the reminder. Enjoys building the collection of how real this is—a full-on album of just pointless things. Soft mornings, tipsy evenings and you in the green apron his Pop bought you as you tried your hand at baking; then there were the many walks, you feeding animals and lots of snaps of the home the two of you are building.

He just wants to collect them all. Have them for himself. The evidence of this peaceful domesticity, this happiness—this present he never thought would be his future.

“I love you,” he interrupts, all soft, practically falling from him—tumbling out past his sly smile.

It cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. Him just watching your eyes widen a fraction more than before—lips remaining parted, hands sliding from your hips to hang easily at your sides.

A calmness settles over him, a dryness growing in his throat, as he moves around the counter, fingers nudging one of the cupboard doors to close. Unsure how he can articulate how happy you make him, more today than yesterday, and likely even more tomorrow than now.

Reaching out, he pulls you by the loop of your jeans, body meeting his—all willing, suddenly flush with his.

“How about…” he begins, the slope of his nose brushing against your cheek, feeling your fingers slide around his waist, dig a little more purposefully into his side, holding him, present, rooted. “We stop accepting food from people out of politeness—start just saying no?”

He peers at you. Watching as you think over it, assess it. “What, like a New Year’s resolution?”

Moving his hands, he cups your cheeks in his palms, guiding your eyes up to him. Just like every time before, since the first moment they landed on him—found him, buried deep into his soul, they pulled a smile. One pair of eyes undoing him, an array of shades swirling, individual paint strokes that made up the eyes he chose to have burned into him forever. The metal on his finger is evident of it, pressing it against your skin as you stare, waiting.

Swallowing, he smiles. “Yeah.”

Nodding, you trace your lower lip with your tongue—wetting it, likely knowing you’ve captured his attention. “I can do that.”

“You sure, baby?”

His hand slid down your cheek, and jaw, landing on your neck—the fabric of your clothes brushing against his wrist and forearm.

“You’re very nice, too nice sometimes.”

Laughing, it brushes over him. All soft, warm, It fluttering over him as you take him in, and as he studies you. “I can try to be less nice.”

Humming, he slides two fingers under your chin, positioning you there, the gap between the two of you closing, and closing—

“Could leave you wanting, for example,” you say. Adding an emphasis to the -ting, making it pop.

"That would be cruel."

Ghosting his lips over yours, the hand on your side clutches you a little tighter. “I know you want me on the counter, Javi. Saw it in your eyes when I was bent over in front of you. And, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you—mi esposo.”

Groaning, he kisses you—a test, soft, quick. Eyes focused on the way yours briefly chased his.

“But,” you say, pulling your face back from his touch, “I have to say no, out of politeness—can’t fuck a man who would accuse me of willingly accepting pickles.”

“Pimienta…”

And you grin, wickedly.

And fuck does he want a photo of that too.

visit @pickled-pena to read the full masterlist of entries.

#pickledpena #pickledpeña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #pickledpeña writing challenge #javier peña x f!reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pickled-peña #pickled-pena #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

[ridestomars]

GIRL U WANT – S. HARRINGTON

𖥻 summary: steve harrington is in love with his coworker, y/n, and max mayfield can't stand how annoying a lovesick steve is.  𖥻 pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader 𖥻 warnings: y/n is used!! it's kinda told from max's point of view. idiots in love (obv), max and steve have a little sister-older brother relationship. bad grammar ig. not proofread (yk the deal). 3k-ish words.

💭 liv's thoughts: look at me rewriting my wip list works. this is another one that has been sitting on my docs page for ages, and i finally got the courage to fulfill it. i hope you guys like it! 

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

“Look at you with your mouth watering, look at you with your mind spinnin'. Why don't we just admit it's all over? She's just the girl you want”. 

People say patience is a virtue, but Maxine Mayfield begs to differ. 

She doesn't believe in that "good things come for those who wait" crap, because nothing nice ever came her way for just standing there until something happened. The only thing she got from waiting around was a terrible yearning sensation of what could have been if she wasn't such a wimp. That is why Max doesn't exercise the righteous quality of patience, preferring her natural impulsiveness instead. Her restlessness is just too precious not to be used – Seventeen magazine insists on telling her that it's just a thing Aries girls do. 

Her effort usually pays off, but when it doesn't, there is nothing better than a "fuck you" to tend the wounds. Rejection is always a possibility, but being disappointed because of it isn't, and with time, you learn how to deal with the negative responses… despite that, Max likes to consider herself too persuasive to ever be declined.

But she has to admit that her intrinsic sense of fearlessness can make her a little insensitive when it comes to people's fear of rejection because, to her, it's just all so simple. Though she tries to be understanding, others' stupidity can become a bit too much for her to handle, and she almost always finds herself on the verge of scolding them for their inability to be bold. It was like when she first started dating Lucas: she had a very serious talk with him about his embarrassment to complain about his wrong orders to the servers because he fears being met with a rude attitude – she still walks up to the workers to point out that his order came with pickles when he didn't want any, but just because it's him. 

For some time now, Max found herself in an annoying situation. Over her boring vacation evenings, she began visiting Family Video a lot, and began picking up on something that grew to be infuriating: Steve's and Y/N's constant bullshit. Their (initial) quiet pining was cute, at first, because it made her feel like she was watching a real-life rom-com, with an exciting "will they or won't they?" plot line… reminiscent of the late-nights where she would pretend to be asleep on the living room couch to catch the new Cheers episode, to see if Diane and Sam would finally get together. Yet, as the days passed and their never-ending coyness appeared to only grow stronger, her hopes started to falter. In fact, the situation began to get so obvious that it started to get on her nerves. Big time.

She was an observer, and easily noticed the lingering looks as they talked, one getting distracted by the other's lips, or the way their brows furrowed when attempting to flirt. Or the jealous blush that dusted over Steve's cheeks whenever he saw you talking to a good-looking customer. And then, whenever you weren't at work, she hears his grumpy huffs that turn into infatuated sighs as soon as you walk through the door, apologizing for being late. It wasn't hard to miss your affectionate words about him when he wasn't around, as if talking about your co-worker would make his absence more tolerable. 

What was sweet, quickly turned into tiresome when the instances of you two almost kissing turn into a daily thing. She can't count the times when she caught Steve leaning his face closer to yours, taking the courage to make his move, but right at the last second… the plan totally backfires. You either bump heads (Max physically cringes whenever she remembers the scene) or too distracted, ended up turning away from the other. Either option brought a burning ache to the chest. 

The blatant crush you have on each other followed Max everywhere she goes as if she was doomed to hear about it until the end of times. Steve was never necessarily reserved about his infatuation – although it seemed like everyone knew about it, except the one person that should –, and since he gives her rides everywhere, she found herself listening to him babble about the gorgeous gleam in your eyes and your shiny hair. The guy sees you as something sacred, and yet… he never admits that he actually likes you, despite the fact that you are all he ever talks about. 

To him, you are a piece of heaven on Earth, the person who understands him the most and makes him feel good about himself, among other incredibly elaborate platonic compliments.

Max knows Steve is pretty much the most idiotic guy to ever exist, but he isn't stupid. It's obvious that he just doesn't want to admit his feelings because, if he does, he will have to do something about it, and being blind to the fact that you feel the same, he doesn't want to risk it. If things went wrong, his heart wouldn't be able to take it. 

The only question roaming Max's head is: he is secure, but at what price? 

It all makes days like today even more unbearable. 

They have been sitting inside Steve's burgundy BMW for almost five minutes now, with the clear window closed, the A/C turned up to maximum speed, and Madonna's 'True Blue' playing on the radio. After their arrival at Family Video's parking lot, Max had asked for a minute, just one fucking minute, to fix her shoelaces and Steve used it as an opportunity to daydream as he stared out the windshield. His eyes were set ahead, and she didn't need to look to know who he was staring at. 

This was starting to get depressing. 

"Steve," Max calls, as harsh as ever. "Stop". 

As if he had just been electrocuted, Steve turns his head to stare at the fifteen-year-old. Eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared, he defends himself, "But I'm not doing anything". 

"Exactly, you moron," she grumbles. "You gotta tell her". 

'No more sadness, I kiss it goodbye. The sun is burs-', Max interrupts Madonna by turning off the radio, stopping any possible distractions.

It's clear that Steve doesn't like where this is going, because his face contorts into that sour annoyed look that makes her take a deep breath. This is going to be difficult.

"Tell what to who?" pretending to be clueless, he purses his lips, but his eyes don't lie, quickly drifting back to Y/N's figure. There was no escape now, not with Max's sharp gaze bearing down on him.

"You're so full of shit".

"Hey! Language, Maxine," he reprimands, "I honestly don't know what you're talking about". 

"You're in love with her," she motions to his co-worker who was still blissfully unaware of the car parked outside. 

And her words rang as an absurdity to him.  

"Max, for the love of-," his protest is interrupted by the girl and the know-it-all tone he hates so much.

"Steve, you're so into her it's ridiculous," her blue eyes narrow at him, hardening her expression. He scoffs, crossing his arms as he looks in the other direction, trying not to give too much away.

They stay like that for a few seconds, with him staring out the window, refusing to take part in the discussion, and Max glaring at his blushing, conflicted face. 

But then, he breaks. 

"Fine," Steve breathes out, "I mean, I'd make out with her… like, platonically, you know?"

The word comes out as if he had just remembered it existed, and Max doesn't buy it for a second, "You can't make out with someone platonically, Steve".

He takes her harsh delivery with a contemplating face, letting it all sink in. It wasn't groundbreaking, but it did break his argument, and he finds himself agreeing with what she had said… and he gets a grip. 

"Why am I listening to a thirteen-year-old?" he mutters, in disbelief. Huffing, Steve turns back at her, already gripping the door handle, "You know what, smarty-pants? I gotta work".

"I'm fifteen, Harrington! And we're not done!"

Max trails behind him as he gets out of the car in a hurry, stepping heavily into the pavement. As Steve bursts through the glass door with the girl in tow, they catch the attention of everyone inside Family Video. He gives you and Robin an embarrassed smile, stepping onto a random aisle, trying to hide from the curious stares. 

From the corner of his eye, Steve realizes that he still hasn't gotten rid of the stubborn girl, so he gathers the cluttered tapes and organizes them, in a failed attempt to avoid Max's inquisitive look. Moving the Pretty in Pink tapes around, the redhead crosses her arms, still staring. 

"You should learn a thing or two about that movie, you know?" she says with a quiet voice.

"What are you talking about, Mayfield?" he asks with a defeated sigh, clearly getting annoyed by her.

"Duckie didn't do anything about his crush on Andie, and had to settle for being her best friend in the end," she spells it out for him, "While she got to make out with Andrew McCarthy. Arguably more good-looking and charming than Jon Cryer". 

Steve rolls his eyes, but the situation does ring out an alarm at the back of his mind. What if… no, let's not go there. "What are you trying to say, wise-ass?"

"I'm saying," she continues, not willing to let him take a breath, "Are you truly willing to miss your shot? Stop being such a coward and go for it!".

"You talk as if I actually have a chance".

There it is. 

This was what she wanted to hear. 

"Steve, the girl is almost putting up a bright sign saying 'Go for it! Ask me out, you idiot!'". 

Drifting his eyes away from the tapes he was organizing, Steve watches as you laugh at something Robin had said. His gaze softens as he contemplates the scene, his hesitancy quavering every time the sound of your laughter reached his ears. This time, seeing the longing look in his eyes made a gentle, sympathetic feeling grow inside Max's chest, so different than the impatient annoyance she was so used to. 

"Look, Steve," her green eyes droop with friendly warmth. Though she might say that this is such a rare sight, that is what he sees every day when he talks to her. "I'm just saying what I noticed, and even if I'm wrong, which I'm not, by the way, you gotta take this off your chest. This is your chance!".

Staring down at her, he can only blink. Her encouraging words are settling in his mind, screeching as they do so, and he wonders… the gears inside his head spinning out of control, smoking everything so bad he almost can't see anything. Steve feels a bit out of breath.

But, impatient as always, Max keeps going as if she hasn't just collapsed all of his plans to stay in your friendship's comfort zone. With the wisdom that few possess, she continues, "I know you're still hung up on your Nancy-heartbreak and everything, but you're standing in your own way on this one, Steve. I can't tell you what the future holds, but I'm sure that you'll feel a lot better after you tell her about it". 

His intentions to continue ignoring it all are crumbling to dust inside him right now and her words make him feel defenseless, too vulnerable to continue disregarding his own fear of possible rejection. 

"That doesn't make sense," he scoffs, though his voice is soft and quiet, "Why would I want to do something like that if I don't know what the outcome is? She might just turn me down, and I don't think I could…"

Eyes drifting back to your breathtaking figure behind the counter, he stops himself before finishing the sentence. His face lit up with an astonishing expression of realization. Steve lets out another defeated sigh… maybe Max was right. 

With a knowing smile, she tells him, "Because you know she's worth it". 

xxx

Steve has had his head in the clouds ever since his little chat with Max earlier and could barely concentrate on having any work done throughout the rest of his shift. It didn't help that he also couldn't escape the sight of you from any corner of Family Video, and had to take several breaks until closing hours to avoid his head from exploding. 

Pacing back and forth inside the employee's break room instead of helping you put everything away (not exactly the top priority on his list right now), Steve tries to muster up even the slightest string of courage to talk to you about his feelings.

Now, on top of being an absolute wimp, he can also add useless when thinking to his list. 

He takes a big breath as he replays what Max had said, and almost unconsciously, snippets of Billy Joel's 'Tell Her About It' start echoing with it. The combination was able to help him make an outline of everything he'd like to say to you. 

"I like you. I don't want the chance to slip away. It's okay if you don't feel the same. I just wanted to say something before it's too late", he mutters to himself, still walking in circles. "If yes, then, ba-ba-bam, charm her up. If heartbreak, retreat. I'll be fine. Fine. Just fine. A-okay". 

Steve feels the same rush as he felt before going to his High School basketball matches, and he can only hope that the results will be far more positive. He takes another deep breath, shaking his arms before he walks over to the door. His fingers touch the door handle, cool under his fingertips. This is his chance. The store was closing, there were no customers around, and Robin had left early for band practice. 

Let's do it, he thinks to himself.

Determined and possessed by a sense of overconfidence, Steve snaps the door open, letting it hit the wall with a loud noise. The sudden movement turns your attention on him, and he can feel his cheeks burning bright under your gaze, his faux bravado trembling below the warmth of your eyes. The quizzical look you gave made him question his own ability for the dramatics. 

"It, uh, got stuck", he offers an embarrassed smile.

Good. Already starting with a lie.

"Yeah," your expression turns into amusement, "it gets jammed all the time". 

The kindness in your voice makes him feel a little better about himself, maybe he wasn't being such a fool in front of you. His heart started to thump inside his chest, blood pumping in his ears like thunder as he walked closer to where you stood, just behind the big counter. With an intense gaze set on your face, he watched as your eyebrows furrow in his direction again. 

"Is there something on my face?" you lift your hand up to your cheek, wiping it off in a hurry.

"No! It's just-," he interrupts himself, suddenly realizing that this script wasn't supposed to go this way. What is he meant to say now? Under your expectant gaze, it's not like he can think of anything intelligible. "It's not that". 

"Oh, okay," breathing out, seeming relieved by the information, you bring your hand down. With a voice that dripped with curiosity, you ask, "Why we-were you staring, then?"

Steve feels so stupid now that he can only blink down at you, his head getting fuzzy by that cute look in your eyes and the way your lips quirked up, stifling a smile. Yeah, he's a goner.

Before he could actually think about what he was saying, he hears the sound of his voice echoing through the empty video rental store, "I don't wanna be a Duckie". 

"What are you talking about?" you laugh out loud, though it's clear that you're not laughing at him. His words took you both by surprise, and he couldn't expect any other reaction. 

"Sorry," Steve apologizes, chuckling along, "I didn't mean to say that. What I wanted to say was… well, by the look on your face I think you already know". 

Again, he just blurted it out without reflecting on it first. But it was justified. 

For the first time, he saw something different in the way you looked up at him. Maybe it was just him being impacted by Max's words, but Steve swears that he has never seen that mellow tenderness gleaming in the color of your eyes before… or at least, he had never noticed it like this. He feels like an even bigger idiot now for not realizing it sooner. 

"Know what?" your question comes as a sign of your unawareness of his new understanding, and it makes a sweet smile grow on his face.

"I like you". 

The three words come out in a far more relaxed way than he had originally imagined his confession to be. Clearly, his realization made a wave of true confidence wash over his body, putting him back in his element of ease. And to say it out loud was a relief like no other.

But when he was met with no answer, just that shocked look on your face, his smile faltered.

"It's alright if you don't feel the same," he reassures, "I just… I didn't want to keep waiting around, wasting more opportunities by never telling you how I feel, because if you feel the same, I really don't want you to get away just like that. And uh- I don't want to be just your friend, but it's fine if you-"

"I like you too", you talk a bit louder than him, interrupting his train of thought, without any remorse. "I, uh- never said anything because I thought you didn't like me back". 

He is still, like a statue in front of you, processing the information. 

And it seems like an eternity before he cups your face, the palms of his hands resting warmly over your cheeks. His long fingers graze against your temples, and just the feeling is enough to ease your hammering heart, but as he leans closer to your face, you can feel your own breath ricocheting against his lips.

Steve stares at you through half-lidded eyes, as if he is waiting for your go-ahead. And it's only when you softly nod up at him that he presses his mouth against yours, letting his lips wrap around your bottom lip in a soft, loving peck. His mind was misty with increasing thoughts of you, your candy-flavored lips, and the smooth texture of your cheeks, along with the feel of the roots of your hair on his fingertips. You were breathing in each other in your kiss, and your breath came faltering against the other cheek. It was truly world-shattering, something you had never felt before in your life. 

As you slowly, and almost reluctantly so, pull apart, Steve feels a small chuckle bubbling up in his throat. Seeing your amused expression, he smiles. 

"We have so much time to make up for". 

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve and eddie. 

𖤐 taglist: @oncasette if you want to be added to my taglist, just click here.

#liv talks about stevie #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington

[ladythot]

How they kiss you hEADCANONSS your selection of men but please include sikorsky ❤️

Short Kiss headcanons — SFW, cheesy stuff, non proofread

Characters; Jack, Pickle, Katsumi, Katou, Chiharu, Sikorsky (another weird combo I'm suh surry)

Also, still trying to get back to writing dm how rushed it sounds

Chiharu

Surprisingly during his first kiss, everything went smooth with those rosy lips of his. It's soft, warm, supple, and mightily inviting against yours. The lack of skill wasn't a problem, chiharu just swings with the mingling sensation of your lips crashing against his and he handles the rest of the kissing well. His hand lingers under your jaw the entire time—trying his best position to give you that perfect kiss. 

Katou

Simple. He doesn't know how to kiss lol but that doesn't mean he spends no effort in making out. I meant half hearted effort; doing his worst or best to try and make it seem he knows how to kiss but all there is are sloppy movements of his lips, his blushing face, quivering hands, and broad eyes that turn half-closed when he kisses back. It's all coming together to turn him brittle in one piece. The entire idea of your lips against his is merely something he'd never get used to. But once comfortable, he'd give sloppy kisses ngl. He tries his best to keep his hands to himself but eventually turns out to be no use

Pickle

Nothing registers in his mind other than the lingering warmth pressing against his lips, but not so much as understanding a literal kiss being given right to him. He doesn't kiss back, just stares at you with wide, curious eyes as he tries to process whatever you're doing to him. Though pickle wouldn't deny it felt nice, that when your warm and wet tongue mingles with his, it makes him want to do the same until he returns the kiss tenaciously by a slow matter of time; to the point his tongue Is just lapping downside the tunnel of your throat. Hand at the back of your head, pulling you close. He doesn't close his eyes like a typical kisser, he's just curiously tonguing you down.

Takes him a while to learn.

Jack

His mouth is spacious and his tongue beeeg n' long. It's no doubt Jack makes vast difficulty when kissing anyone with a small mouth I mean you're not pickle buh Jack wouldn't spend much proper effort in kissing; he kisses lazily, in a good way. The sloppy style. He just lets his mouth hang open effortlessly, just enough for you to do all the work. When he gets in the mood though, like everyone agrees with, he'll dig his own tongue down your throat. Also, inexperienced Jack kisses would be stiff as hell. Heck, his jaw doesn't even budge while you make out with him.

Katsumi

Gives the best kisses without a shadow of doubt. No matter how inexperienced he is, his lips would never disappoint with how soft and supple they are. It sends your jaw melting from the warmth. His arms are on your waist, wrapped and pulling you close; as if securing you. His kisses are slow, steady, and passionate. Eyes closed, all attention paid to your very form. His hands would unconsciously drop down to your bottom do not ask

Sikorsky

Rough, slow, but less passionate. He's quite experienced with kissing and he's pretty much the gropey type. His eyes would open halfway just to take a look at you every once in a while as he watches you kiss back with closed eyes, it makes him feel good. Knowing that you're enjoying It the way he does too. He'd smirk into the kiss, dropping a hand down to grope you shamelessly, he'd feel like a literal king.

#arigathanks #jack hanma x reader #pickle x reader #pickle baki #katsumi orochi x reader #katou kiyosumi x reader #shiba chiharu x reader #chiharu shiba x reader #sikorsky x reader #baki headcanons #baki #baki the grappler #baki son of ogre #baki dou #so good to use the tags #crack take btw

[silverflqmes]

Do you have any hcs for yandere Sephiroth? 👀

໒⦂ ‘𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄’ 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. hi hi so uh i don’t do yandere stuff, it’s not a topic i’m super comfortable with writing ( as mentioned in my rules ) but i will provide a more subtle, toned down version if that’s okay instead :’)

genre. angst + suggestive

tw. possessive behavior, implied manipulation, jealousy

disclaimer. there is a visible flip in the headcanons from pre nibleheim sephiroth to post — which takes on a darker approach. if it’s not something you are comfortable with reading, then don’t.

sephiroth x gn!reader.

⌗ as a person who dealt with the loss of those he allowed into his life, having brought his walls down for them.. i do think sephiroth might have developed a bit of overprotective behavior — which honestly, is expected..

⌗ he doesn’t want to lose you or for any harm to come your way. whether losing you refers to death.. or to someone else — he doesn’t want any of that to come to fruition.

⌗ everything in life he cherished has been taken from him and you are not about to be one of them..

⌗ normally he’s as cool as a pickle if you’re talking to someone else, but there’s this aura emitting from him.. one look at sephiroth and the innocent bystander is practically shaking in their boots.

⌗ you of course — would be confused as hell on this.. i mean when sephiroth pulls you closer, you just assume he wants proximity..

⌗ until you go home, that is, and he’s just holding you without any means of letting go.. it’s silly, watching that subtle, yet visible pout of his and the furrow to his brows and all is understood

⌗ piece of you by shawn mendes tbh that is where my brain is rn

⌗ sometimes it’s a little more than an inescapable hug and turns into a storm of kisses — perhaps even a mark or few would be left in his wake.. but nothing that makes you uncomfortable cuz he doesn’t want to hurt or force you into anything. consent!!

⌗ while he has selfish desires and would prefer to have you all to himself, he values boundaries and freedom — it’s something he wasn’t given and he isn’t about to take that away from you, too.

⌗ but if you were trying to get a reaction out of him by PURPOSELY trying to make him jealous.. good LUCK walking in the morning are the only words i have for you LMAO

⌗ there is after care tho trust and it’s all part of the plan because he gets to have you stay over and spend time with him<3 which — despite your grumbles — you are more than happy to do<3

⌗ now uh, post nibelheim sephiroth.. he is a different case cuz he’s under the influence of jenova cells — which are obviously making him do some wild stuff..

⌗ following the concept that you would have said cells opens up the opportunity to mess with you a bit, as a means of getting you to execute his whims. kinda like he does with cloud..

⌗ he’s aware you’re trying to take him back and save him from what he’s become, and uses that to his advantage. you would do anything for him, wouldn’t you?

⌗ slowly, he would isolate you from your companions — they want him gone, anyway, but you don’t. you couldn’t sit with the idea of your lover being gone, even in spite of all he had done.

⌗ you told yourself it wasn’t him, and it was true, it wasn’t. for that.. you wished to continue your attempts at saving him, even if it was a descent into madness..

⌗ gradually, you are succumbing to his words, allowing them to reshape the view you had made for yourself.

⌗ he was right, anyway. the humans who blindly believed in shinra- were the ones that gave the company the power and means of further destroying the planet for their glory. sephiroth was right in almost every way to execute the goals he made for himself.

⌗ he only ever appeared briefly to you, his caresses leaving enough of a linger to leave you touch starved — yearning for contact.

⌗ the one winged angel only whispered soon in that velvety tone of his, a reassurance of the reunion that would be upon you both in time.

⌗ but at times, you pressed, pleading for just another second — minute or few of his time.. and with that desperation in your voice, the expression that crosses your features, how could he refuse you?

⌗ he would spare his precious time and entertain you a moment longer, indulging just a bit in you, and himself, of course. but once more leaving you lingering, longing for more.

notes. not one for writing yandere oriented content, so i hope this was okay and fulfilling enough since i watered it down quite a bit :’) just not super comfy associating him with the qualities of a yandere..

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

#— ; 🏹 ) final fantasy vii fics. #sephiroth x y/n #sephiroth x you #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #sephiroth ff7 #sephiroth ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth headcanons #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy sephiroth

[mediocrevideopodcast]

Prompt: Calling the Lackadaisy characters by their full name

A/N: University has been keeping me busy, and I've been in a bit of a writers block. So in the meantime, take this goofy little thing!

Includes: Rocky Rickaby/Reader Calvin "Freckle" McMurray/Reader Dorian "Zib" Zibowski/Reader Mordecai Heller/Reader Viktor Vasko/Reader Serafine Savoy/Reader Nicodeme "Nico" Savoy/Reader

Rocky Rickaby: 

Rocky's always pleased to hear his name fall from your lips… "Rocky Rickaby…" he loves to occupy your attention, and he's not above doing a silly trick here and there to get you to utter his name like that. But his given name? You can't even finish "Roark" before he's at your feet, begging for forgiveness. Queue the waterworks -- his muse, his winter sunshine, his summer breeze please, please forgive him. For he is naught but a mortal man, riddled with the propensity for mistakes, but is -- Hm?  The maple syrup is in the back of the pantry, yes. Yes, next to the peanut butter. -- is that not the natural state of such mortal endeavors? Surely, such a divine being must take pity on the folly of man!

He doesn't register that you were only playing with him. Or, maybe he's realized and is just committing to the bit. You'll never know. What you do know, however, is that you'll have him at your feet for the next hour or so. 

Calvin McMurray: 

Calvin, Cal, Freckle… Sweetheart, in private. McMurray, when you're teasing. Calvin really gets the gamut of names and nicknames when it comes to you. But when he hears his full name yelled out from the opposite end of the house, he's nothing if not panicked. The past two decades of Irish Catholicism really beats that into you. He rushes to your side, back straight, head down in silent apology for… whatever it is, that he did. 

"...Yes, dear?"

He has to bite his tongue a bit to not bring out any honorifics, but the message comes across just the same. There's only 2 times he uses "dear" as his go to-- 1.) In front of his mother, 2.) After he's done something he shouldn't. 

Decompresses instantaneously when you ask him to open the pickle jar. He exhales quietly, holding his hand out silently for the jar. His heart can't take this sort of thing. Don't do this to the poor man… too often. 

Dorian Zibowski:

Blinks owlishly when he hears his full name shouted out from across the house. If there's any way to sober Zib up… this is it. He's leaping to his feet in an instant, rushing to where you are… and slowing down when he's just out of sight. He smooths his fur and his clothes and takes a deep breath before waltzing calmly into your line of sight. Play it cool. 

"Funny way of pronouncing "Zibowski, doll. Need something?" 

He takes it in stride, but don't be fooled -- he's quaking in his boots, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels the weight lifted off his chest when you ask him to grab something from the top shelf, although you'd never know that. He does, however, press a lingering kiss to your temple after he passes the item off to you. Don't read into it too much. 

Mordecai Heller: 

He tears his eyes away from his book, glancing at you from over the rim of his teacup. "Yes?" 

He's truly unaffected. He's introduced by his first and last name all the time, and he was never scolded in such a manner as a child.  If you were looking for some outlandish reaction, all you've got is his quiet attention. And you might want to answer quickly -- he'd really like to finish this chapter tonight. This is quite a grueling read, you know. 

His true name, however, is a different story. But that's for entirely different reasons, and well, you wouldn't  know anything about that. Right? 

Viktor Vasko: 

Yet another one who is unaffected. He looms over you a bit -- which really, isn't unusual for him considering his stature -- humming questioningly.

He's a man of few words, and even fewer reactions. You've really gotta put some emotion in your voice if you want to get any sort of reaction out of him, and even then the most you're likely to get is a raised eyebrow… maybe a bit of a head tilt if you're lucky. And you can really only do this once -- he'll remember your little trick for next time. 

(If you really want to get a reaction out of him, use some sort of petname. He secretly finds them rather sweet, and the right one will force-reset his brain a bit the first few times you use it. )

Seraphine Savoy: 

Seraphine isn't unaffected by the use of her full name… rather, she revels in it. She's always enjoyed the flow of her name, but it always seems to fall from your lips like some goldly golden ichor. To call it heavenly would be a bit of a misnomer -- sinful, mayhaps? It's a difficult feeling to place, but she strides over to you confidently nonetheless. Her lips quirk up as she leans into your personal space.

"Yes, amou?"  

Nicodeme Savoy: 

Truthfully, he isn't the biggest fan of you calling him by his full name. Well, his full first name, anyways. Feels too stuffy, for his liking. But he takes it in stride, waltzing up to you lazily. He rests his arm on your shoulder and leans down to be eye-level with you, eyes half lidded with a grin. He throws your own full name right back at you teasingly. Need something?  Want him to grab something, or open a jar? Hm? 

His grin stretches a bit wider when you pout -- you really thought you'd get him this time, huh? He kisses you chastely, nipping at you softly in jest. Gotta try harder than that to shake him, bebe. 

#divider by @cafekitsune #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #nicodeme savoy x reader #mordecai heller x reader #dorian zibowski x reader #serafine savoy x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #viktor vasko x reader #lackadaisy imagine #lackadaisy rocky x reader #lackadaisy nico x reader #lackadaisy mordecai x reader #lackadaisy serafine x reader #lackadaisy viktor x reader #lackadaisy calvin x reader #lackadaisy zib x reader

[ozzgin]

Also I love your blogs sorry I’ve been spamming 🩷Hii Author, could you do another part for the small prehistoric reader, where she is actually really strong even though she’s small and innocent looking like stronger than Yujiro and Baki but she’s only really like that when she’s in heat. I wonder how the would react Yk 🤔

Sure! It’s been suggested in the comments as well and it does have a fun twist to it. Female characters stronger than the main cast is the one uncanonical construct that I deeply enjoy.

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Small Reader Headcanons (II)

Featuring the Baki characters and a prehistoric but small sized reader that turns out to be unexpectedly strong.

[Baki Masterlist] [Part I]

The fighters keep a respectable distance from you in order to assure Pickle of your safety. They’d rather not pose as a threat to his mate, especially after seeing how protective he can get. He always keeps you under his watchful gaze, ready to interfere if you need to make use of his strength. At times he’s particularly anxious around you. Professor Payne has explained in more scientifically appropriate terms that you might be dealing with female specific issues. No one pressed it further.

This peaceful resolve does not sit well with Yuujirou. How very pathetic and boring that everyone concomitantly agreed to mind their own business. He itches for a little bit of action and what better way to rile up the prehistoric warrior than messing with his little protégé? He doesn’t want to risk fighting a half-assed Pickle, he wants the wrath, the readiness to kill. So with arrogant mockery he decides to give you a little nudge in front of everyone. Just a mere push, he does show mercy to weaklings like you. Baki is enraged and the other men join him. Everyone is waiting for Pickle to make his move, though bizarrely enough he just stands there, eyes wise in shock. Yuujirou didn’t expect this lack of reaction.

The Ogre is a man with battle experience and nothing can take him by surprise. It is to be noted, however, that sometimes a trade off for the sake of efficiency has to be made. A rational agent in artificial intelligence may have to take millions of variables into consideration in order to compute the most optimal solution and react to the environment. Realistically speaking, therefore, some less probable events are taken entirely out of the equation. So, for example, the idea that you would attack Yuujirou was not something his body expected to react against. The impact of your small fist was doubled by this element of surprise. His eyes roll back and his large body is thrown at quite the distance, leaving significant damage behind.

There’s a deafening silence that lingers for what seems an eternity. Baki feels a mild discomfort on the walls of his throat and he realizes his mouth has been hanging open for long enough that it almost dried up. Did you…did you just knock his father out with one single hit? He slowly turns his head to the other witnesses, wondering if this is a dream and the others will confirm it. Judging by the equally dumbfounded expressions surrounding him, he suspects fearfully that it is, in fact, something that just happened. Jack feels like he’s been kicked in the crotch. Katsumi is overwhelmed by a certain nostalgia, the nervousness he felt when he was a little child attending the Dojo for the very first time. Retsu purses his lips as a solemn frown creases his features. Tokugawa can feel the beads of sweat gathering in the folds of his wrinkled forehead.

The least impressed of the group is Pickle. Almost as if he expected it to happen, he walks up to you and grabs your shoulders before you can approach Yuujirou’s passed out body. Your face relaxes once again and you look up to him with a genuine smile, as if soothing his worries. You’ll stop here, no worries. You pat his large hands and turn around, prepared to leave the scene.

The frightful question now plagues the fighters within the arena: was Pickle protecting you from them, or has it been the other way round all along?

#baki #baki the grappler #baki headcanons #baki hanma #pickle baki #yujiro hanma #yuujirou hanma #prehistoric reader

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hugging Dethklok Hcs

depending on how im feeling after posting this i think i might make a second part including side characters (likely the second post will contain charles abigail and knubbler !! and maybe even some smaller characters that i feel deserve more love) anyways uhuhuh first official MTL post except it.. actually isnt, ive written for knubbler and the dethklok minute host before so yeah very nervous about this since im still trying to find my footing in how i wanna write the characters, so heads up that this might be VERY OOC and what better prompt to do than do one of my "i dont know what to write" ones written with reader as their partner vague mentions of like. sexual stuff but nothing explicit, i still wish to keep this blog as sfw as possible, really just implications of it than anything also some characters had bonus hcs of cuddling so uhuhuh

NATHAN:

built like a mattress, though that can mean anything since not all mattresses are made the same... hmm.. have you ever hugged/cuddled one of those tiny headed kingdom plushies? very firm but not comfortable, i think thats what nathan feels like, but perhaps just a smidge softer. but how would nathan feel? i mean hes very protective of you, and being able to hold you gives him a moment to keep you close. not very affectionate otherwise, but this is nice. definitely the type to do hugs from behind, especially if theres someone trying to flirt with you

PICKLES:

short so theres a good chance youre around his height if not taller and he may or may not feel things about that (both negative and positive but lets save that for another post as i fully intend on keeping this sfw), i always thought pickles of being physically affectionate so him having a hand on you is a common occurrence. probably takes the opportunity to whisper something in your ear, usually something dirty or something incoherent with him being drunk or otherwise under the influence. oh yeah i can easily see him being the type to swing his limbs over his partner while he sleeps and trapping them there

SKWISGAAR:

maybe im cooking something doodoo, but i feel like skwisgaar may or may not struggle with non-sexual stuff, like being purely romantic and innocent with no intent to get your pants off is foreign to him. i whole heartedly believe the reason hes so sexual is due to being in dethklok and being huge, but also because of his mother constantly bringing new people home. so in the beginning he might actually be tense in giving you affection, definitely going to need to take some time. very cold, skinny people tend to be colder ive noticed so totally you shouldnt take this as an excuse to hold him closer (winks)... i DO think he would also have a hand on you a lot of the time like pickles, whether or not those hands have other motives is up in the air

MURDERFACE:

make him take a shower first/j

okay jokes aside, this man is so starved for attention and affection, but he would never ever EVER say it. you guys could be 100% fully alone in bum fuck no where and he still wouldnt say it. but its definitely there in his actions and body language. i think hes warm, and his skin is a little... i mean he canonically has dry skin with eczema, and while i dont have eczema i know what having that dry scaly skin feels like... perhaps we could tie in some self care with the reader helping murderface take better care of himself? i mean it would be one hell of a fight to get him to try but i think its do-able.. tight hugger, kind of lets his arms linger before sliding them down when you eventually pull away. wish i had more but i think murderface is the type to deny affection whilst also deeply craving it

TOKI:

probably the easiest to hug in terms of getting him to accept it, actually i think he might be the most likely to initiate one alongside pickles. very warm, though he sometimes hugs you a little too tight and might even tug you back in if you try to pull away before hes ready. full body cuddles into you when you guys sleep/nap together, arms and legs keep you in place so... good luck trying to slip away before he wakes up. i like to think he fiddles with your hair, too, though im unsure if that fits with his character... i think that, despite still having a love for all things brutal he still likes these smaller moments of just. affection. very clingy and possessive though so keep that in mind, i think he would hold you and physically try to pull you away if someone tries to flirt with you; a lot less subtle than when nathan does it

#metalocalypse x reader #metalocalypse x you #mtl x reader #mtl x you #nathan explosion x reader #nathan explosion x you #pickles the drummer x reader #pickles the drummer x you #pickles x reader #pickles x you #skwisgaar x you #skwisgaar x reader #murderface x reader #murderface x you #toki x reader #toki x you #toki wartooth x reader #toki wartooth x you #william murderface x you #william murderface x reader #skwisgaar skwigelf x reader #skwisgaar skwigelf x you #very likely ooc #definitely ooc