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palskippah · 1 year

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Hi! You saw preg Bowuigi, but may I present to you… preg Mareach ✨

The thought won't leave my mind after I mindlessly drew Mario asking Luigi how is it to be pregnant and then it escalated from there 😔

So! Here's some headcanons (that you can find too in the drawings) for this:

-Mario and Luigi's mamma and uncle are twins, so they have this 'twin gene', and it just so happens that Mario got twins first try and Luigi didn’t.

-Mario has thoughts when seeing his bro expecting, he develops a serious case of baby fever that he refuses to tell anyone about. Like he catches himself thinking about him and Peach expecting and her acting in the overly attentive way that Bowser does, or thinking of a tiny blonde baby with a button nose and blue-sky eyes. He feels a bit guilty about these thoughts.

-Luigi eventually pries the information out of Mario and tries to convince him to talk to Peach about it, that she’d be understanding even if she doesn’t like the idea. Mario’s stubborn and just doesn’t and feels bad for wanting a baby too just because his bro is going to have one.

-To Mario’s surprise (and relief) it’s Peach who mentions the idea of having children (he feels a bit embarrassed that she easily used the exact words he scolded himself for: “I want a baby”), so they shyly entertain the idea. And they decide they'd like to be parents in the future.

-When Magma (that's the Bowuigi baby's name!) grows and gets to the toddler stage, Mario finally decides that they could start trying.

-(Corny and I pulled this from Deadpool 2 but) He gives the 'green light' to Peach as a sort of anniversary gift and she's so happy she jumps in place and holds him to her chest and rambles about what to name the baby and how they'd look and what they'll do together and– Mario jokingly reminds her that first she's gotta put a baby in him for that to happen.

-Luigi is really excited when Mario and Peach tell him that they’re expecting. He hugs them both and says he can’t wait to finally be an uncle, and that they’ll be great parents.

-Luigi spoils his bro the same way Mario did with him when he was expecting Magma, like baking him treats and his favorite foods whenever they’re at their house and overall being a very good bro.

-Soon Peach arranges a room to make a nursery and plans how it’ll be.

-When they discover it's twins she makes arrangements again to adapt it for two babies, assigning a color to each baby’s things, because she thinks that Mario and Luigi having their signature colors is adorable.

-When they’re back from the doctor after discovering they’ll have twins, they’re both happily thinking about two children. Peach of snuggly wrapped little babies with round noses and brunette hair, and Mario for some reason thinks of two blonde toddlers with matching hats and blue overalls.

-Mario's belly looks big soon and Peach is over the moon because he's so round and handsome.

-He's so shaped.

-Due to almost all of the Mushroom Kingdom citizens being small Mario often loses sight of them, especially when talking to toads. They love to stand close and right in front of him, even if Mario tells them to stand at his side so he can see them. Mario's pretty sure not even the toads can see him over his belly and yet they don't listen.

-Mario lives at Peach's castle but he and Luigi still kinda often stay at their own little house at the outskirts of Toad Town. Luigi sometimes goes by himself or brings some of his children. They like to have some kind of peace apart from their families and the royalness of it all. (Thinking about the fact that Bowser went on a vacation by himself as Junior said once in a game sjdks)

-Peach is very excited for the babies and she always asks for permission to caress his belly and to hold it and to kiss it. She talks a lot to the babies too, even at times holding very long one-sided conversations with them while Mario listens in with an absolutely besotted smile.

-Many nights, when Mario's sprawled on his side with his arms in weird positions and snoring away and Peach's at his back holding him, she mumbles on and on sweet words to her children and her boyfriend, and holds Mario closely.

-Ever since they know he's expecting, Peach randomly suggests baby names to Mario, who shakes his head or actually explains why he doesn't like them. She suggests one day a couple of names just for funsies and to her surprise Mario loves them.

-Peach leaves their bed very early to focus on her royal duties all morning, while Mario's asleep almost until midday surrounded by an insane amount of red and pink pillows.

-Peach eats red power up mushrooms to be able to easily carry Mario around when he gets too tired, that way she doesn't get tired either.

-Late on Mario gets the 'pregnancy brain', he forgets things and sometimes does stupid stuff. Once at their house he dropped a fork, and since it never crossed his mind to ask for help or pick another one from the kitchen cabinet, he ended up stuck in a crouch when trying to reach it, yelling for Luigi to come help him up.

-Donkey Kong and Mario are mean besties, and DK often teases Mario and vice versa. Like DK purposefully drops something and asks in a faux nice voice for Mario to pick it up for him, then does the laugh™ as Mario stares at him unamused.

-DK used to (gently) push Mario to sit in soft furniture and laugh at him for getting stuck. Mario would sulk and cross his arms over his belly until the stupid monkey dignified himself to help him up. Until DK did it one day that Mario had been particularly tired about the pregnancy, and besides the usual reaction he also got misty-eyed and his lower lip wobbled. DK freaked out and couldn't figure out how to console him as Mario silently cried. Peach almost obliterated DK on the spot when she caught them.

-Since then DK isn't as mean with Mario until the babies are born weeks later. Also, he's a bit terrified of Peach now.

-Magma, who's still a toddler, often asks her uncle-mama when the babies are going to come out of his belly so she can meet them.

-They have twin girls! They're identical when they're babies and kids but when they grow older they have more noticiable differences (like height, same as Mario and Luigi and their mom and uncle)

-They’re Nettarina and Mariella. Sadly I don’t care how silly the names are, I like them and so does Mario aksjdksajd

-Mario has strong genes so their babies look a lot more like him than Peach (who’s glad, because she wanted to have two mini Marios!), although he hoped they’d look more like her.

-Mario is already fat and he gets even fatter with the pregnancy.

-The girls (and Magma too) speak fluent italian and english.

And that’s what I have so far! I know i missed some characters that I could have mentioned like Daisy or Toad and others, but maybe I’ll think of them too for another post c:

I hope you liked them, and if you have any other ideas or headcanons feel free to share them, I’d love to know!

#super mario bros #mareach #princess peach #mario mario #mario #princess toadstool #mpreg #fankids #my art #HI this is a repost that can be rebbloged and it'll stay in your blog sjdksjd th original will be here in the blog too #but it got a content warning #so pls reblog this one so you can still view it in your own blog!#mareach fankid

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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

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Tale As Old As Time | Joel Miller Fantasy AU (Chapter Two)

Series Summary | A Prince, cursed to be unloved, hardened by years of staring at his scars and sitting in his loneliness. A girl, headstrong and wanting of adventure, to escape the life curated for her, a breath of fresh air against the dark of his heart and his home. Can she really learn to love the beast he has become? Truly, a tale as old as time.

Chapter Summary | A girl, granted reprieve from her cell, but is the extravagant room you find yourself in now just a guided cage? A prince, unsure of himself and what to do, let's his temper get the better of him.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader (Beauty and The Beast AU)

Chapter Warnings | Grumpy/Angry Joel. Introduction of some famous friends we all know and love, a girl who has essentially been kidnapped, discussion of food and alcohol but nothing else yet.

Word Count | 4.5K

Authors Note | I am so blown away by the love the first part of this received! I didn't ever think that AU's would be my thing but I'm so excited by this story and I'm excited to bring your part 2! For those of you who loved and enjoyed the original Beauty and The Beast, there's some scenes here which are just for you! I'd love to know your thoughts so if you enjoyed this (or even if you didn't!) then please consider reblogging, commenting or leaving me some asks! And if you'd like to support me further, you can leave a tip on my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Did you see her?” One conspiratorial voice asks in a hushed whisper.

“Poor thing, was scared to death,” The other voice responds, “He’s never going to break the curse if he behaves like this every time someone comes wandering through.”

There is a third voice added to the mix, “What do you mean, every time someone wanders through?” This voice is sarcastic, “This is the first time in years we’ve seen a single soul.”

“Maybe this our chance?” The second voice suggests, “Women like her don’t stumble upon souls like us often.”

“You really think she could be the answer?” It’s the first voice speaking again, “If the master had thrown me in a cell, I don’t think I could ever forgive him.”

It’s the second voice that decides the plan of action, “There is simply only one way to find out and that is to try.”

It’s late and Joel has a headache. With the passage of time, he’s stopped thinking of himself a Prince. He might still have his servants and his castle, which is crumbling around him, but outside of that, he is no better than any other man, no different from the people in the villages that surround his once magnificent estate. They don’t remember him; he doesn’t really remember them. He thinks, over the glass of wine he drinks, that it’s probably for the best. All the power and attention had gone to his head, wasting his father’s money on extravagant parties, guests whose names he didn’t know. They weren’t there for him, only for what he offered. They’d have gone to any party where the wine was good, and the music made them soar.

He finishes the wine in his glass when there is a tentative knock at the door. If it wasn’t for the wine jug being empty, he’d have told whoever it was to leave him alone, to leave him to his nightly stupor, but he wasn’t nearly drunk enough.

“Enter.” He calls out.

The door to the reception room opens and closes behind him, then the sound of footsteps and the empty jug being swapped for one that is full. Joel waits for the footsteps to start receding again, but they don’t. He clamps his jaw, trying not to lose his temper. They know to leave him alone in the evenings. Only to come to him to refill his drink at hourly intervals and leave with minimal talk. It was a routine they’d fallen into since the beginning.

“What will you do with her?”

It’s Lucian’s voice. Strange, Joel thinks. It’s normally Horace who oversees his nightly refills. The old man clearly didn’t have the courage for this conversation. If he wasn’t so fucking angry, he’d almost praise the younger man.

“Haven’t decided.”

Joel turns his head to look at the man. He’s smaller than Joel is, considerably, even before he was turned into a towering monster. Blonde hair with pointed features, and a stature that was so uncharacteristically rigid this evening, that Joel almost laughs.

“Might I offer a suggestion?” He speaks.

“You might,” Joel scoffs, “Doesn’t mean I’ll listen.”

He clears his throat as he pours wine into his cup, perhaps hoping the alcohol might placate his master.

“She is a girl, and we are running out of time, my lord.”

“Your powers of observation have always been astounding, Lucian,” Joel replies gruffly, sipping at the fresh cup of wine, “She trespassed, she must face the consequences.”

“I’m not suggesting she doesn’t,” Lucian assures, “But surely one evening locked in the tower is enough, my Lord, she was terrified.”

“And then what?”

“Maybe we bring her down to one of the rooms, make her feel comfortable?” He suggests.

“So, she breaks into my home, and we reward her, is what you’re suggesting?” Joel turns, face warmed by the fire burning in front of him.

“I’m suggesting that she is our only hope, sir,” Lucian is pleading now, “Another petal fell this week, none of us have much time left, or we’re damned to remain like this forever.”

Joel ponders for a moment, mulling it over in his mind. If it had just been himself under the curse, he’d leave the silly girl where she was, but it isn’t just him. He’s got his servants to think about, although they don’t know it, they are more his friends than anything else now, the only people he has spoken to in years, and he knows they’re tired.

He waves a hand in Lucian’s general direction, picking up the wine glass that is now full, “Do as you will, but she is not to stray to the West Wing, if I find her there, it won’t just be her that ends up back in a cell, understood?”

“Clearly, sir.”

The sun greets you early, peering in through the open gaps in the wall, meant to be a window, but only acting as a taunt for its prisoners. You could clearly see outside, out to freedom, but there was no way to reach it. At some point during the night, Phillipe had disappeared, no longer tied to the gate that you can see from the gap. You curse to whichever God will listen for your rotten luck, even if you could escape, the lack of horse would mean you wouldn’t get far before you were struck down by something, or worse, recaptured.

You lean your back against the wall and bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs to try and comfort yourself. The ground is cold and you find yourself wishing for some straw or something, anything to act as a barrier between you and the cold ground you’d spent the night on.

A little while later you can hear footsteps traveling up the stairs. Maybe now, in the harsh light of day, you’d finally see your captors face. Put features to the deep gruff voice and the large hands that had gripped you last night. It wasn’t to be. The man who comes into view is nowhere near large enough to be the same man who threw you over his shoulder like you were a sack of flour from the miller. This man looks friendly enough when he comes to kneel in front of the bars of your cell. Light blonde hair and a clean face, with friendly eyes. You want to trust him, but this could all be some kind of sick joke at your expense.

“I brought you some food,” The mystery man speaks, placing a plate down on the ground as he unlocks the cell door, “Are you hungry?” He asks, pushing the plate through the small open gap, kneeling on the floor outside so you’re of a similar height.

You shake your head and push the plate away with your foot – you have no idea what it could be laced with, even if it is just a lump of bread and some cheese. You try and curl in on yourself, make yourself smaller, hoping whoever this is will take the hint and leave you be.

“The master can be quite… abrasive,” He starts, “But he means well.”

You are vaguely aware of another set of feet making their way up the stairs, slower than this man had, but you push it to the back of your mind, “Abrasive?” You snort, “He locked me in a cell for walking through an open door, he is nothing more than a brute!”

The man in front of you holds his hands up in surrender at your outburst, just in time for another man, still nowhere near large enough to be your captor, to walk up the stairs, clutching at his chest as he caught his breath.

“I implore you Lucian,” He speaks with a deep voice, still trying to catch his breath, “You leave her where she is, the master didn’t give you express permission for this.”

“Charming,” You mumble, “Wait, leave me where I am?” Your head perks, “Where else would I go?”

The man who you now know is Lucian smiles, a genuine, friendly smile, which goes a small way in putting you at ease, “Well, this is no place for a beautiful girl like you, is it?” You return his smile because at this point, you think you’d do anything to not spend another second in this damp cell, “How about we take you somewhere more comfortable?”

“This is a terrible idea,” The older man, with a full beard and greying hair on his head to match speaks, “I really do think we should leave her here.”

“Horace, will you please shut up,” Lucian turns and chides him, “Look at her,” He tilts his head back towards you, “She’s terrified, she can’t stay here, and if the master asks, I’ll take the fall.”

He extends a hand to you and after weighing up another night spent in this cell, you let your own slip into his. Lucian pulls you to your feet and helps brush off some of the dirt from the skirt of your dress, as he motions for you to walk in front of him, “Follow that oaf back down the stairs,” He chuckles, “He’ll be slow going because of his knees.”

The room that you find yourself in now is a complete juxtaposition to a huge amount of the rest of the castle. None of the windows are broken, it doesn’t smell like the damp musk of the rest of the place, and the bed looks so comfortable you might cry. Your back is screaming from the night on the stone floor of the cell so you don’t think twice about flopping down onto the bed, letting the soft sheets and the mattress sink below you. You’re almost convinced you could fall asleep, until there is a loud knock at the door and then a woman, followed by a small boy invading the room.

“Oh you must have had a ghastly night up there,” She exclaims, “Only one thing for it, and that’s a strong cup of tea,” She’s picking up a tea pot and pouring the warm liquid into a cup, stirring in some milk and sugar, before the saucer is held in your direction. You take it gratefully and drink, letting it warm your bones, “Drink up dear, we’ve got a lot to do.”

“I’m sorry…” You trail off, “I’m lost?”

“That dress has seen far better days,” She points to your clothes, understandably covered in grime from your night in the cell, “And I’m sure you’re absolutely famished, now come on, before Madame Audra appears.”

You take another sip of the tea, as you watch the young boy rummaging around the room, “And who might you be?” You ask, smiling as he turns to face you.

“I’m Oliver, Miss,” He smiles widely, walking towards you, “But everyone here calls me Chip.”

“Chip?” You ask, a giggle to your voice.

“Yeah!” He exclaims, getting as close to you as he possibly can, lifting his lip to show you his teeth, “Because I fell and chipped my tooth, see?”

“Oh! How rude of me!” The older woman who has been fussing over the tea trolley exclaims, “I’m Mrs Thompson, and Chip here is my boy, and we’re going to make sure you’re comfortable here.”

There’s another swift knock at the door before it’s kicked open to reveal a woman, younger than Mrs Thompson but still older than you, arms laden with so many materials that she can barely see over the top of the pile. She’s bustles into the room and drops them on the bed, immediately taking hold of the cup of tea you were enjoying to set back on the tea trolley. She grabs hold of your wrists and pulls you up from the bed, holding up your arms and running you over with her eyes, as if she’s sizing you up. Turns out that’s exactly what she’s doing.

Whilst she’s fussing over the pile of what turns out to be dresses, you take a closer look at her. She’s beautiful, with smooth skin and friendly eyes, much like the rest of the gang you’ve met today. You wonder how these people have stayed so positive under the employment of such a horrid man. This woman in front of you can only be Madame Audra, and she’s dressed to the nines. You’d read about women like her in your books. Women of high society, with powdered faces and hair that towered on their heads, gowns made of silk and ribbons. She is quite possibly everything you had wanted to find in this world.

“Now, I’m going to leave you in Madame Audra’s capable hands, we’ve got dinner to prepare, haven’t we Chip?” Mrs Thompson explains, steering the tea trolley out of the room with Chip on her heel.

As the door closes you can hear Chip speaking to his mother, “See, I told you she pretty, mama.”

You smile, turning your attention back to Madame Audra, who is holding up a simple dress, the colour of sugared almonds. You remember when your father had brought some back from the city, years ago. You’d eaten them with your mother, already sick and in bed. One of the few good memories you still held of her.

“This will do nicely,” Madame Audra nods, holding it against your body, “The master will like this, and it’ll look lovely in the glow of the dining hall.”

“Oh, but I’m…”

“Well come on, let’s get you out of these dirty things.”

“I’m very grateful,” You start, a hand placed on her arm as she tries to turn you to undo the back of the dress you’re already wearing, “But I won’t be going for dinner.”

She stops dead in her fussing over you, eyes wide, “Oh but you must.” She implores.

“I won’t sit opposite a man who threw me in a cell for waking through an open door.” You stand your ground.

She’s about to open her mouth to speak when there is a knock at the door. It opens to reveal Horace, the man from earlier, straight-backed and serious.

“Dinner is served, my Lady.”

Joel is pacing, mainly through frustration more than anything else, as Lucian and Mrs Thompson set the dining table ready to begin the execution of their master plan. There is a roaring fire lit, warming the room, and all sorts of dishes being carried out and placed upon the table. It’s nothing short of a feast, if he closes his eyes, he could even convince himself that he was the man he once was and he wasn’t about to sit down with a girl who had trespassed into his home and was now seemingly being rewarded for it. If he’s honest with himself, he also might be a little nervous.

He'd been careful last night to stay in the shadows. He’s not really sure why, because at that point, all he was ever going to do with her was leave her up there to rot, but now he’s glad, glad that he hadn’t seen the look of repulsion on her face as he stepped into the light, showing the mottled skin of his face, scarred and textured as if someone had held his face to a flame for too long.

“What is taking her so long?” He finally lets out, exasperated, mainly because the food is going cold.

Mrs Thompson stands near the fire, her hands clasped in front of her, “Do try to be patient, my Lord, the girl has lost her freedom in less than a day, it’s going to take her some time.”

Lucian decides to add his two pence to the situation, setting down the fork he’s been pointlessly polishing to pass time, “Have you thought that maybe she might be the one to break the spell?” He asks, hope lacing his voice.

“Of course I have!” Joel exclaims, turning around to face him, “I’m not a fucking fool.”

Lucian holds his hand up in surrender like he always does, but then claps them together, “Well then, it’s settled,” He exclaims, “You fall in love with her,” He holds out one hand, “She falls in love with you,” His other hand now held out, “The spell is broken, and we all go back to normal.”

“Oh Lucian,” Mrs Thompson sighs, “It’s not that easy, love takes time.”

Joel can feel his stomach sinking, hope had flourished before, at the idea that perhaps this might work, that these people who have surrounded him for years might be right, but when he thinks to the way he looks, face scarred, frame so big he would scare anyone who saw him, he realizes it’s no use. The enchantress had been right, no-one could ever learn to love him.

“It’s no use,” He sighs, teeth gritted in frustration, he’s got a hand on the mantle above the fire, clenched in a fist, “She’s so beautiful,” He admits, because you are, even when fear had covered your features, you were quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, “And I’m like this.” He points to his face.

Mrs Thompson moves to stand closer to him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder, “Then you need to help her see past all this, don’t scare her with that intimidating scowl you always wear.” She points to his face.

“And when she comes in,” Lucian adds, “Smile at her, make her feel welcome.”

Joel listens back and forth as the two of them give him advice on how to behave when the girl finally arrives. Compliment her. But be sincere. Impress her with your whit. But be gentle. But above all, you must control your temper.

It’s almost overwhelming, he can feel anger and embarrassment flooding through his body. He’s about to demand they stop when the door opens. He holds his breath, standing up straight, but then it’s only Horace’s portly figure that emerges over the threshold.

“Where is she?” Joel demands.

“Well, you see,” Horace begins, “Circumstances being what they are….” He trails off, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the wrath he knows he’s about to be on the receiving end of, “She’s not coming.”

“What?” Joel speaks calmly, although there is rage flowing through his veins, threatening to bubble over at any time.

Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s stomping, feet heavy, from the dining hall. He can feel everyone else following being him, but all he can focus on is how rude this girl is being. Beautiful, but the most stubborn woman he’s ever met, and he’s known her for less than a day. How dare she refuse him? He should have left her where she was to rot in the tower.

There is a pounding at the door, so fierce you’re surprised it doesn’t break, “You were told to come down to dinner!”

You look towards Madame Audra who has fear in her eyes, imploring you to placate whoever the man is currently shouting at you, but you can’t. He’s taken your freedom; you won’t let him control you as well.

“I’m not hungry!”

“You come out right now, or I will break down this door!”

Unbeknownst to you, it isn’t just the master on the other side of the door, but Mrs Thompson, Lucian and Horace too. They’re all looking at each other, knowing that the talk they’d had with Joel in the dining hall has been forgotten, his anger taking over as it always does. They’re all trying to convince each other to talk, through knowing looks, surely one of them can help salvage this situation.

It is Lucian who takes the initiative, “Master, I could be wrong,” He rubs his hands together in front of him, his own nervous habit showing through, “But that probably isn’t the best way to win the girls affections.”

“Please, just attempt to be a gentleman.” Horace adds, making sure he’s standing behind Lucian, so he has a chance to escape if Joel feels the need to take his anger out on anyone.

“How can I when she’s being so difficult?!” Joel hisses, pointing towards the door.

“Just ask her nicely,” Mrs Thompson implores, “Don’t demand.”

Joel takes a deep breath and turns back to the door, the three pairs of eyes trained on his back as he digs deep and tries to remember what it means to be a gentleman, though he’s not been one for some time.

“Will you come down to dinner?”

The answer is almost instant, “Absolutely not.”

Horace is already trying to tame Joel’s frustration when he turns back around to them, “Gentle, be suave, my Lord.”

Another sigh, and another turn back to the door, his voice strained, trying to control his anger to destroy something from the rejection, “It would give me great pleasure if you would join me for dinner, please.” He speaks through gritted teeth, not quite believing that he is the one begging when she was the one who trespassed.

“No thank you!” You call back through the door.

“You can’t stay in there forever!”

“Yes I can!”

“Fine!” Joel shouts, “THEN YOU CAN GO AHEAD AND STARVE!” He bellows at the top of his lungs, turning around to his servants who are cowering across the hall from him, “If she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all!”

He stalks off back down the corridor, slamming the door at the end of it shut behind him. Madame Audra leaves the girl’s room, looking to her fellow servants before shaking her head. She’s not quick enough in closing the door, because all four of them can hear the racking sobs coming from the room.

“Well, that went terribly.” Mrs Thompson muses, wanting nothing more than to storm into the girl’s room and embrace her.

“Lucian, you stay right here,” Horace directs, slipping right into his role as head of the household in a crisis, “If she attempts to leave, you inform me immediately,” He runs a hand over his greying beard, “We need to be careful with this, she’s a firecracker, and anymore wrong moves and he’ll have her right back up in the cell,” Then he turns to Mrs Thompson and Madame Audra, “Household meeting in the kitchens.”

taglist: @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @tightjeansjavi @morning-star-joy@darkroastjoel @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @patti7dc@drewharrisonwriter @casa-boiardi @partyofone3413

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stellar-constellations · 9 months

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"You haven’t tried to kill or degrade me, and you're cute too!”

Very curious! Low ranked demon! GN! (Y/N) x Aizetsu.

(Y/N) has absolutely no memory of their human life.

Chōrō is an original OC for plot purposes!

(Y/N) eats human food to gain energy!

(Y/N) has her own original breathing but it doesn't go into detail!

(Y/N)'s demon life is similar to one for one of my Demon Slayer OC's (that I may or may not add onto Tumblr one day; still deciding).

It must’ve been a few months since I’ve been a demon. I don’t know much about my human life, but I was once a demon slayer who killed demons. I was a tsuchinoe with much to learn, but I created my own breathing; Celestial Breathing.

I was a stubborn and honest person. I followed what I believed was right and I did my best to help others, even if it didn’t always work out—at least, that’s what my human friends say.

I visit this old lady, Chōrō, often. She gives me human food since it replenishes my energy instead of blood. My human friends are demon slayers, but they won’t kill me. I’m a exception to the slayer corps, just like my little demon friend Nezuko is.

I hide in big trees and warehouses in the day, but I usually go to Chōrō; she is very kind and lets me hide in her house.

I am a demon with no rank, a demon that could easily be killed if wanted since I have no name or significant importance. I help give the best information I can about That Man and the Uppermoons to the demon slayers, but once I no longer have connections with them, I am of no use.

Death doesn’t bother me—I would enjoy it. I don’t want to be a demon. I don’t like having to hide from the sun, fight other demons, run from the humans, find a way to get money, or avoid the pretty glowing purple trees. But I don’t want to submit easily—it’d be insulting.

I don’t have any important relation with the Demon King. The last time I saw him, I was in the infinity castle, but I don’t know why. He explained what I was and what I had to do, then set me free in the world. I'm certain he was the one that turned me, but I'm unsure why.

So far, I have run into three Upper Moons; one, two, and three. I don’t like Upper Moon One—he gave me a surprise test and was very mean to me, saying that I was a imposter and had no use, so I dislike him very much.

The second Upper Moon is very… special. He’s weirdly animated, loud, and a bit annoying, but I am on better terms with him then with Upper Moon One. He helps me train, honing my swordsmanship skills and Blood Demon Art (which appears to be my Celestial Breathing).

I only saw Upper Moon Three once, but he seems like a very irritable person, and I have a problem with people who like to berate me.

I really like the animals in the world. I think my favorite is the wolf. They’re a little mean to me, but they don’t attack me, they just growl at me. However, sometimes when I stay very still and avoid eye contact, they will come over and sniff me. I will carefully hold a finger out and they’ll allow me to pet their muzzle. Sometimes they bite my fingers, but I understand they're just scared of me like how I am of humans.

I also really like pandas. Pandas are fluffy and big. I can lay down on them. I really like to hold bamboo up and feed them. I ate the bamboo once—it wasn’t good. I don’t understand why the pandas like them but it’s okay because they’re cute and it leaves more for them to eat.

Yes, I like pandas. I like to lay on them too. I’m laying on one now! His name is Boo. I probably won’t ever see him again, but I enjoy his company, and he doesn’t seem to mind mine, so we’re friends.

I was laying on his stomach as he ate a stick of bamboo, grabbing another stick nearby and waiting for him to finish his food, then holding it out in front of him.

“Do you want more?” I questioned.

He made a funny noise. I don’t speak panda. I assume it was a yes because he took the stick and starting chewing on it.

“You’re feeding the panda?” a voice questioned in front of me.

I tilted my head back to it’s original position, seeing a demon in front of me. It wore a blue stash, having coco skin and very pretty blue eyes. It had horns sticking out of its hair that was messy and black. It was also worth noting he had this purple vein-like pattern on his forehead. They looked and sounded like a guy; he was cute, but he looked sad.

“I am! His name is Boo. Would you like to feed him with me?” I questioned, grabbing a stick of bamboo, offering the bamboo to the demon.

“No thanks…” the demon spoke, his face remained a frown as he looked at me.

“Boo is very nice, right, Boo?” I questioned, tilting my head backwards to look up and rest my head on his stomach.

He made a noise as it took the stick, resuming his meal.

The demon remained silent, deciding not to talk any further, however he stayed staring at me.

“Are you okay? You look sad.” I questioned.

Usually I’m not so kind with demons or people in general, but whenever I see something I like or enjoy—like this panda—a flip is switched in me and I turn almost childish. I’ll regret my actions for this interaction later, but I won’t see this demon again. Besides, at least he’s not trying to fight me.

“I am sad.” The demon admitted.

I hummed, thinking.

“Would you like to talk about it? I promise I won’t tell anyone. I won’t judge either.” I offered.

“No thanks—I don’t think you’d understand.” The demon spoke.

“I don’t think I’d understand either.” I smiled. “I don’t understand a lot of things around me, but it’s fun to learn. I might not understand you, but I can listen to you. I like it when someone listens to me.” I explained.

The demon hummed, thinking to himself.

“Are you a new demon?” he questioned.

“I am.” I spoke. “I don’t eat humans; I eat human food. I learned that bamboo is not human food.” I informed him. “I suggest not eating the bamboo, it tastes gross, but Boo likes it. I don’t exactly understand Boo...” I spoke, tilting my head up as Boo finished his stalk, making a noise for more.

“I suppose I could tell you...” The demon sighed, watching as I picked up a nearby bamboo stalk and gave it to Boo. “I am an embodiment of an emotion, so I can only really feel that one emotion. I share a body with six other clones, so they can really upset me sometimes.” The demon explained.

I nodded, listening intently as I grabbed a bamboo stalk, offering it to him to make him feel better. He shook his head, rejecting the stalk. I shrugged and gave it to Boo.

“I feel that I understand. Not in this life, but in my human one.” I explained.

“You can remember your human life?” the demon questioned, seemingly intrigued despite having that frown on his face.

“Bits and pieces. I get information from others about me sometimes.” I spoke. “I hope you at least feel a little better with me though.” I smiled, offering him another stalk of bamboo (to which he rejected yet again).

“I still feel sad.” He sighed.

“Hm…” I hummed, thinking. “What do you like to do?” I questioned. “I like seeing animals, and seeing my friends, and eating human food—human food tastes really good for me, unlike this bamboo.” I explained, then motioned for him to take the bamboo stick (he ignored it).

I don’t understand why he won’t accept the bamboo? The bamboo is currently making me happy since I can feed Boo, and I want to share my happiness with this demon. Oh well…

“I don’t really like much things… I don’t have the free time to do indulge in hobbies.” He spoke.

“Why not?” I questioned.

“I work for the Demon King.” He explained.

I nodded, making a mental note as I scooted closer to him, looking into his eyes. He looked at me, seeming to be uncomfortable as he slightly leaned back as I leaned closer.

His blue eyes said Upper Moon Four, so he's not lying.

“I see.” I acknowledged. “That must suck for you—or not!” I quickly spoke, nervous to offend him. “I mean, I wouldn’t quite enjoy having little free time, but I respect it if that’s what you enjoy.” I smiled, offering him a stalk of bamboo as an apology.

“I suppose it could be worse.” He hummed, then rejected the bamboo stick.

I nodded, not seeing the conversation going anywhere else as I crawled back to my spot, leaning back and giving Boo the bamboo instead.

“We don’t know each other’s names.” I pointed out.

“What’s the point of exchanging names? We’ll probably never see each other again. How sad…” he sighed.

“Then let’s make sure to meet up again, so it's not sad!” I smiled. “I mean, you’re fun to talk to, you haven’t tried to kill or degrade me, and you're cute too!” I admitted.

“Huh… cute…” He muttered, testing it out, as if not believing it.

“Yeah.” I confirmed, then looked up at the stars. “So, would you uh… like to meet here tomorrow night?” I questioned nervously.

Why is my heart beating so fast? It’s just a question. I thought to myself.

The demon hummed, thinking to himself. “I supposed it wouldn’t hurt…”

“Great, it’s settled!” I exclaimed, happy to know I’ve made a friend with a powerful being as I stood up. “My name is (Y/N), it’s been lovely talking to you.”

“I’m Aizetsu.” The demon, Aizetsu, spoke.

“Here, have this bamboo stalk. It’s a promise that you’ll see me again.” I spoke, then realized how stupid that’d be. “Y-you don’t have to keep if it you don’t want…”

Aizetsu looked down at the stick and me, then finally taking it from my hands.

“(Y/N)…” he tested the name out, having my full attention. “Thank you for making me feel less sad and…” he paused, then spoke. “I think you’re cute too…” he spoke, the frown remaining on his face, but I didn’t need to see a smile to understand that he also enjoyed our time spent together.

He walked back into the forest from where he came from, leaving me and Boo alone.

I immediately whirled around at Boo, excited as I let out a little giggle. “Did you see how cute he was? His eyes were so pretty! And he had such a handsome voice. His personality was so relaxing and adorable!” I gushed, running up to the panda and laying on him. “You agree, don’t you?” I questioned, giving him a stick of bamboo.

He let out a noise that showed he agreed, as he does with most things I say.

I like a lot of things in this world. I like the human food, the animals, the clothes, the stars, the old lady Chōrō, and the blue demon named Aizetsu.

Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist

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ctitan98official · 4 months

Text

@the-night-owl-blr : Gello! Sooooo Y/n is toying around with the potions again and she "accidentally" drank another potion BUT instead of having her personality change I want her voice to change, like into something deep, Corpse husband deep and i wanna see the R8 ladies reaction to it. (Im very much inlove with your vlog do I might request/ask often)

Haha! That’s a good idea! So glad you enjoy my blog :) Read the post this ask is talking about here! Reader, as usual, is gender neutral. Let’s get into it!

Y/N: *Once again messing around in Miranda’s lab*

Miranda: *Keeping a close eye on Y/N as she works, doesn’t want a repeat of the personality swap potion incident, gave Y/N some busy work to keep them occupied* Now, Y/N. You keep organizing those nuts and bolts… It’s very important to my research.

Y/N: You got it, Mother Miranda! *Picks up the pace of their sorting*

Miranda’s doorbell: *Rings*

Miranda: Damn it! I think that might be my Postmates… Y/N, whatever you do, don’t stop organizing, okay?

Y/N: Yes, Mother Miranda!

Miranda: *Satisfied that Y/N is thoroughly distracted, leaves*

Y/N: *Waits for Miranda to be out of earshot, laughs and rubs their hands together* Now, what kind of chaos can I cause today?

Y/N: *Looks through various experiments, finds a bright green potion, can’t resist drinking the forbidden Gatorade*

Miranda: *Comes back into the lab*

Y/N: *Runs back to their spot quickly, starts sorting the nuts and bolts again*

Miranda: *Stuffs a huge burrito in her face, bits of food fly out of her mouth while she talks* Everything okay in here?

Y/N: *Disgusted, nods their head*

Miranda: *Satisfied, snarfs her burrito*

Y/N: *Trying to see if they feel any different, annoyed when nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, decides to just call it a day and head home* Mother Miranda, I’m gonna go back to the castle now. *Voice is like 3 times lower than it normally is, eyes widen in surprise*

Mother Miranda: *Stares at Y/N, loud eating halts, rice and chicken smeared all over her face* Y/N? What’s wrong with your voice?

Y/N: *Totally freaked out, starts inching towards the door so Miranda doesn’t find out what they did* Oh… Um, I think it’s just a head cold. Bye now!

Miranda: *Narrows her eyes at Y/N, wipes her mouth, grabs Y/N by the arm to keep them from leaving, rolls her eyes* Aww. Poor little thing. You don’t mind if I give you a quick check-up do you?

Y/N: *Cringes* U-um, I’m totally fine, Mother Miranda! I’m gonna go home and eat some soup!

Miranda: *Pushes Y/N into a chair and ties them up* I know you took one of my potions again, you little idiot! Which one was it? I want to make sure your eyeballs don’t pop out of their sockets or something.

Y/N: *Horrified, yells* Why do you have a potion that can do that?!

Miranda’s front door: *Bursts open to reveal the Dimi sisters*

Cass: Y/N! Grab your shit we’re taking you home!

Miranda: Girls! We’re in the lab!

The Dimi sisters: *Swarm to where Y/N and Mother Miranda are*

Bela: *Takes one look at Y/N tied up, sighs* What did they do this time, Mother Miranda?

Miranda: *Glaring at Y/N* They took another one of my potions, but they won’t tell me which one.

Dani: I’ll take care of this! *Mercilessly tickles Y/N’s sides* Tell us what we want to know!

Y/N: *Busts out laughing in a deep man’s voice* Haha! Stop it, Dani! I’m gonna piss myself!

The Dimi sisters: *All freeze at what they just heard*

Dani: Wow! Can you do the “Luke, I am your father.” line?! PLEEEEAASSEEE!

Y/N: *Laughs* Luke, I am your father!

Cass and Dani: *Very impressed, clap their hands in approval*

Bela: *Rolls her eyes*

Miranda: *Doesn’t get the reference* You sired a child named Luke?!

The Dimi sisters and Y/N: *Turn to Miranda in outrage* You uncultured swine!

Miranda: *Surprised by the visceral reaction, groans* You know what? All of you get out of my lab. Y/N, if you haven’t become violently ill by now you’ll probably be fine.

Cass: *Cuts Y/N out of the chair*

The Dimi sisters and Y/N: *Start heading home*

Dani: *Keeps making Y/N say funny things in their new voice*

The Dimi sisters and Y/N: *See Donna out for a walk*

Bela: *Giggles and whispers a bad pick-up line for Y/N to tell Donna*

Y/N: *Smiles and nods*

Donna: *Sees the group and walks over to say hello* Good evening, everyone.

The Dimi sisters: *Say hello*

Y/N: *Grins at Donna* Your hand looks heavy… Can I hold it for you?

Donna: *Has a bit of an involuntary fit, cheeks burning* Y/N, w-why would you s-say that! And what’s w-wrong with your v-voice?!

Y/N: *Laughs* Some stupid potion I took at Mother Miranda’s. No big deal though.

Donna: *Asks something non-intelligible because she’s so quiet*

Y/N: *Raises on eyebrow* Sorry, what did you say?

Donna: *Blushes harder, but repeats her question, louder this time* W-would you s-sing “That’s Amore”? *Squeaks in embarrassment and hides her face in her hands*

Y/N: Oh! I know that song! *Clears their throat* When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that’s amore!

Donna: *Immediately faints from the ASMR tingles*

The Dimi sisters and Y/N: *Look at each other and shrug, the group makes a detour to drop Donna off at her house*

Angie: *Fucking shocked*

The Dimi sisters and Y/N: *Finally get back home*

Y/N: You three go in and tell your mother we’re home. I’ve got a surprise for Alci! *Chuckles and runs off*

A few minutes later

Y/N: *Kicks the door to Alcina’s bedroom open, wearing a cowboy hat, starts singing* Baby lock them doors and turn the lights down low!

Alcina: *Alarmed because she heard a man-thing’s voice, smacks Y/N through a wall*

Y/N: *Groans, lying in the rubble, rubs their head* Alci! It’s me!

Alcina: How dare you call me by that name! Only my spouse is allowed to call me that! *Unsheathes her claws*

Y/N: *Takes off the cowboy hat, holds their hands up in surrender* Alci, babe, it’s me, Y/N! *Shows that they’re wearing their wedding ring*

Alcina: *Eyes widen* Y/N? What happened to you?! Why do you sound like this?!

Y/N: *Dusts themself off, stands up* Well, I took another potion at Miranda’s, hehe… But hopefully it will wear off soon!

Alcina: *Snarls, picks Y/N up by the collar* You buffoon! Now you’re in trouble!

Y/N: *Gulps, scared* Um, is there going to be a punishment or something??

Alcina: *Smirks* Yes! It’s been so long since I’ve had someone with a deep voice to sing a duet with. You’re going to sing whatever I tell you to!

Y/N: That doesn’t sound too bad!

The next morning

Y/N: *Voice is completely gone, Alcina’s still making them sing, about to pass out*

Alcina: *Lounging in her bed, smoking a cigarette* One more verse of “I got rhythm”, draga!

Y/N: *Falls on the floor face-first*

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #y/n is stupid #re8 shitpost #re8 incorrect quotes #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #mother miranda #donna beneviento

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darlingshane · 2 years

Text

In Other Words, I Miss Us

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit // Warnings: Angst, Smut, Mention of Body Image Issues, Mention of Scars. // Word Count: 3,492

Summary – As lovely as it is having him home, it still doesn’t feel right that he has to leave right after that. Living like this has been really frustrating for you. You’re happy that he’s alive and to have your husband back, of course. But somehow it was easier when you didn’t know he had survived. It sounds terrible to say it like that, but you just want him home, so you can put your lives back up together.

A/N: This is a second part to – In Other Words, Until I die, but it can be read as a stand-alone.

- You can read below or at AO3.

It takes a great amount of restraint on Frank’s part not to visit more often after that night you found out he was alive. All he desires is to be with you and Lisa for good. And while he enjoys all those little moments– it's never enough. Every time he leaves, he almost breaks every bone of his hand, smacking his palm on the steering wheel for the lack of anything to direct all his pent-up anger.

He needs a new target, and needs it soon.

He's set up some gym equipment in the basement, and uses that for training, but mostly to unload that rage. The punching bag has become his favorite. It knocks him right out after a good boxing session.

You've noticed his banged up knuckles. He had seen you looking away, and biting your lip in contempt. He can't bring himself to touch you or kiss you for more than two seconds, because he's afraid you'd discover everything that he's done. There are marks on his body that map out his recent activities, and he doesn't want you to know about those.

The situation is far from ideal for any of you, and he exclusively blames himself for it.

He’s only comfortable enough coming by the house at night, before Lisa's bedtime. He watches her eat her dinner, encouraging her when she refuses to eat her veggies. More than once he's ended up with his beard sprinkled on mashed potatoes or yogurt, cause she finds it hilarious right now to blow a raspberry with food in her mouth. She doesn't do it to you as often, cause you don't find it as funny as Frank does. And the more he laughs, the more she repeats her bit.

Regardless of her shenanigans, It brings you so much joy and delight to see father and daughter bonding. She asks about him constantly, and lights up every time he comes around.

Tonight, however, there's none of that. Lisa has been particularly defiant since you picked her up from daycare after work. You fear she's entering the famous terrible twos, and proof is that she's already testing your limits and patience, discovering on her own what she can get away with and what she can't. She's sweet, most of the time, but also really smart for you to handle alone. She's already learned how to make herself cry, and you can see right through it when she does it.

Frank can't.

There's no bulletproof vest thick enough to protect him from those pouts, and crocodile tears jumping out of those same doe-eyes she got from him. Halfway through her meal, she ends up settled on his lap instead of her high chair, cause he couldn’t bear seeing her wailing like it was the end of the world. At least he’s managed to feed her some apple slices after all the drama. Because, right now, the main issue is lunch and dinner. She's become a very picky eater, and you have to get creative when feeding her vegetables and fruits. Which she used to love. Now, if it doesn't come in the form of a smoothie, or hidden in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she just won't eat them.

You clean up the mess in the kitchen while he gets her ready for bed, giving her a bath and reading her one of her favorite books.

As lovely as it is having him home, it still doesn’t feel right that he has to leave right after that. Living like this has been really frustrating for you. You’re happy that he’s alive and to have your husband back, of course. But somehow it was easier when you didn’t know he had survived. It sounds terrible to say it like that, but you just want him home, so you can put your lives back up together.

Right now, you feel like you're still holding your breath for something to happen.

She’s still half-awake when you go upstairs. He has her resting on his chest, while he holds the book that he’s reading.

“Good night, sweetie,” you kiss her head, and she smiles behind her pacifier.

You watch them for a moment before letting him have his precious time with her.

In the monitor settled in your nightstand, you then see him settling her down and tucking her in bed after she's out. He keeps his eyes on her for a few more minutes while she sleeps before turning off the light, and walking towards your room.

“You do this every night?” Frank rasps, tiredly, walking up to you from behind.

“It's not always like that, but yeah,” you glance timidly over your shoulder, opening the clasp of the necklace around your neck that holds Frank's wedding band.

“Is it because of me?”

“No, it's just a phase. I hope.”

“I’m sorry I left you alone to deal with all this.”

“You’ve already said that, Frank.”

“Bears repeating,” he exhales, “it’s not fair to you.”

“No, it isn’t.” You turn around and take hold of his hand to slide his ring back where it belongs.

He stares at that same finger with apprehension for a beat, before dipping to press a chaste kiss on your lips.

You sigh and hug him, kissing him back, slowly, reveling in on those little moments with him, no matter how long or how short.

“Mommy,” Lisa’s little voice protests out of the monitor’s speaker.

“I gotta…” you part from him, and swallow.

“Yeah, go,” he clears his throat, and watches you go take care of Lisa before she starts crying.

“What’s up, baby?” You turn on her night light.

“Binky,” she rubs one of her eyes.

“You lost your binky?” She nods, and you check all the way around the bed, and find her pacifier tucked between the covers.

“There you go, sweetie,” after giving it back, Lisa holds onto you, and you curl up with her, soothing her back to sleep.

By the time you return to your room, Frank is slipping into his coat. He then removes his ring, and holds it up to you, “you should keep it, sweetheart.”

“But it's yours, that's why I gave it to you,” you cross your arms against your stomach, refusing to take it back.

“Just for a lil longer, would you?”

He can tell something has snapped inside you in the last few minutes before hearing you say, “I… I don't think I can anymore, Frank.”

Maybe you're being completely irrational right now, but you hate having to watch him come and go like this. And you despise being the keeper of a ring that only reminds you of two things, the day you married him, and the day you got it back when they told you he was dead. Those two memories shouldn't go hand in hand like that. Especially since he's not dead and you two aren't truly married anymore. No matter if you feel it in your heart, to the rest of the world, you're a widow. And it's really taking a toll on you acting the part.

He looks down, spinning the gold band between his fingers, unsure of what to say next.

“Maybe I should've stayed dead.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, having tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.

“Haven't been a good husband to you, have I?”

“You have,” you manage to say, holding back a sob.

“I haven't. I can see how frustrated you're with me, baby… and how complicated I'm making things for you two. Just say the word and I won't come back until it's safe.”

“Frank,” it comes out watery out of your throat, “yeah, it hasn't been a walk in the park but… is that what you want? You want me to make that decision for you, and keep you away from your daughter?”

He shakes his head, and gazes at you, “all I want is to stay here forever with you and her.”

“Then why don't you? Why can't we just take off, just the three of us, and drive somewhere nobody knows you?”

“We'll never be truly free if we do that. If I leave… they'll win. They need to pay for what they've done. ”

“Are you any closer to finding them?” The concept of someone in the shadows presenting a threat to you and your family, if they knew Frank is still alive, somehow still escapes you, and terrifies you. And the fact that Frank seems more scared than you do is what most worries you.

“Sorta… uh, I'm going to see a friend in a coupla days in Kentucky. He might have some answers.”

“Okay,” you exhale; exhausted, confused, and sad.

“I'll call you before leaving, yeah?” he tentatively cups your face with a hand.

You shake your head on his palm.

“No?”

“Uh-uh. I don't want you to go,” you stubbornly express.

“Sweetheart…” he sighs, breaking his touch from you, to hold onto his own hand instead, “I gotta. Have no other choice.”

“I mean now. I want you to stay tonight. With me. Please?” He looks down anxiously, tapping his index finger on his opposite hand, “Frank. I’m begging you here. I shouldn’t have to.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“I miss you, babe,” you smooth his beard and slide your palms on either side of his neck, confessing, “I miss kissing you, and touching you… and I miss us… don’t you remember how we were before all this?”

“I do, sweetheart… that’s all I think about,” he timidly glances at you, and places his hands on your hips.

“You know what I'm asking?” you say, shy, pulling his head down to have his forehead leaning against yours.

He simply nods in your hold.

“Be my husband, Frank. Even if it's just for tonight,” you cautiously move your hands down, gliding in the small room between his body and yours until reaching the hem of his Henley.

Following that same slow approach, your fingers slip underneath the fabric to capture the toned shape of his torso on the plane of your palms, “What do you say… would you let me take care of you?”

He swallows the lump in his throat, feeling the heaviness, and warmth, of your simple touch on his stomach, spreading through the rest of his body like he had been touch-starved. He wishes he was strong enough to resist the effect you have on him. It makes him weak at this hour, and can't help but let your hands smooth his flesh before tentatively undoing his belt and fly.

“Sweetheart…” he mumbles, looking down at your hand stroking him over his underwear.

“What?” your cheeks heat up, feeling him swell in the curl of your hand, “you want me to stop?”

“No. Not at all,” his lips curve nervously, moving his hands to frame your face instead. He pulls his head upright, and presses a kiss to your forehead, shutting his eyes while you continue.

His mind clouds completely when you slip your hand under the fabric to meet the skin of his taut erection. His tip is wet already, and you use those drops to pump him all the way down and up.

You hear him hum, sigh, and mutter something under his breath you can't quite figure out.

Coming alive with every stroke, his heart races, pumps in his chest like he hadn't felt in months.

Becoming putty in your hands, he allows you to mold him, and guide him backwards in the direction of the bed, until the back of his legs hit the mattress.

“Sit,” you remove your hand off his cock, and he obeys.

You stay on your feet, and push his jacket off his shoulders. Then, you grab the hem of his shirt to pull it off him, but he stops your hands for a second before you can do so.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asks.

You nod.

Frank hesitantly releases your hands, and you slowly peel his shirt off, having his arms go up, so you can slip it off completely.

You're about to do the same with yours when you catch a glimpse of his torso, adorned with an assortment of scars you haven't seen before. You had seen his knuckles, and part of the cut on his forearm when he rolled his sleeves up. But this obviously too much for one person to handle, even for Frank. As tough as he is, you wonder how he's still alive.

The look on your face right now, the one you're not aware of doing, is the reason he didn't wanna show you.

“You're a fucking miracle,” it's the only thing that you can think of. You don't have any religious beliefs, but someone above is clearly looking over your husband, and you're grateful for that.

You trace tenderly one healed cut on his shoulder with your pointer finger, and the crease of his brow deepens.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…” you mumble, and exhale, getting a grip of yourself, “did I ruin the moment?”

“You didn't ruin anything, baby. I just didn't wanna worry you.”

“A little late for that,” you rest your hands on his shoulders for a beat, while you muster some courage to take off your own top.

He observes the way you timidly pull it over your head, as if it was the first time you were showing your half-bare self to him. You haven't had the luxury of taking better care of yourself lately, so you're not nearly as in shape as he is. It makes you a little self-aware, and you ball your shirt in your hands, using it as a shield to mask your lower abdomen.

The first time he saw you naked was much different than this, though. It was probably during your fourth or fifth date that you were just heavily making out on his couch in his old bachelor pad. One thing led to another, and suddenly you were skin to skin, all over the other, without any worry of having to look perfect.

“Don't hide from me, beautiful.” Frank notices and grabs the shirt from your hands, tossing it aside.

Then, he grabs your waist, pulling you closer, so he can kiss your stomach. His lips bounce off your skin repeatedly, letting the thick hairs of his beard tickle your nerves. It makes your lips curve up, and it brings back those old flutters in your tummy.

You hold his head, petting his luscious mop of hair, while he continues nibbling your skin all over for a while, letting his hands mold the sides of your curves and ass slowly.

When he pulls back, his head leans backwards, and locking eyes with you, he grabs the hem of your leggings on your sides, and pulls them down along with your underwear.

You step out of those and slip your bra as well, while he removes his boots and the rest of his clothes covering his bottom half.

You’re climbing onto his lap before he can slip his second foot out his pants. You push him backwards against the mattress and seize his mouth with passion. He chuckles at the urgency of your lips, as you drag your hips closer to his crux to feel his hardness.

His hands immediately land on your ass, pressing you harder, as your folds become more slick at the relentless rubbing of your sex against his.

The friction quickly warms up your bodies, and when you're ready, you part from his lips and lean slightly backwards to grab his dick and guide it into your opening.

Adjusting your hips, you sink onto his cock, having him stretch your tender walls with a little difficulty as they involuntary contract at the sudden breach. You try again, taking a deep breath, and put all your focus on relaxing those muscles to smooth down nicely along his throbbing shaft.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, making you huff, as you settle your palms on his chest.

He grips at your hips that start rolling slowly back and forth, and holds your gaze, utterly taken away by how much he has missed feeling and seeing you like this.

When you start panting, he moves one of his hands between your legs to aid the need of your clit to be stimulated at the same time.

Your whole body shudders, sensually swinging faster on top of his.

The pressure and sweet ooze of your walls wrapped around him make it harder for him to keep himself from coming. It's been a long time since he's had you like this. Too long. And to be honest, the constant vigilance and looking over his shoulder doesn't give him much time to relieve himself using his hand. He's done it, sure, but not as much as he'd like to. At this moment, there's nothing greater than you fucking him like this.

He focuses on rubbing your clit furiously to delay the inevitable for a little longer.

When he feels that your legs are starting to give up, he bends up and gingerly switches places with you. Settling you down on your back, he picks up the pace with the desperate drive of his hips that makes you moan louder.

He kisses you to capture the vibrations of your delicious hum around his tongue.

One of his hands squeezes your thigh, grabbing a fistful of your flesh when he's about to come. You can tell, and so can he, by the way his cock aches and begs for a release. You're not better. He's taken you so fast to that hot edge, that you're about to explode at any moment.

“Frank, baby… ” you whine against his lips.

“Shh, shh… I know, sweetheart.”

The last stretch is just torture, he pushes sharply, slamming your hips as you claw for dear life onto his sides, marking your nails on his rib cage.

Frank announces he's about to come, and a second after his seed spurts all over your walls, as you capture the loud grunt that comes out of the mouth of your husband on your lips.

You feel his fingers sinking deeper into your skin for a moment as the orgasm runs all over his body.

“I'm sorry,” he says breathlessly, going limp on top of you.

“It's okay, Frank.”

“Uh-uh,” he mumbles, “give me a moment. I'm gonna make it up to you.

You smile, sliding your hand up to his nape, combing his sweaty curls between your fingers.

He's still hard inside when he starts moving again, utterly sluggish, for a long moment while he catches his breath. Then, he rises from his position to kneel partially, leaving a big room between you and him, so he can use his fingers on you.

Fast and furious, he works your swollen nub like his life depended on it, while he slowly thrusts.

You squirm beneath him, grip at his arms, as he quickly takes you to the boiling point again.

“That's it, come for me, baby,” he encourages, “you're almost there.”

You finally moan at his name, having your hips trembling and your walls clutching to his cock when you come undone.

He slips carefully out of you as the mixture of both dampens your thighs and the covers underneath.

Settling together lazily, on your side, face to face, pulling the covers over you, he sweetly kisses your lips, letting his fingers dance at your back.

“God, I missed you so damn much, baby,” he sighs, and you smile at his words.

“Do you ever think of me?”

“I think about you all the time,” his hand moves to softly trace your jaw with his fingers.

“You know what I mean… when you're alone.”

“Oh,” his mouth bashfully grins between his bushy beard, “I do, but it's not something that I often do.”

“No? Have you… been with anybody else?” you can't help but wonder.

“Who would I be with, baby? You're my wife.”

“Well, technically we're not married anymore… and you haven't answered my question. I'm not mad if you did, I just wanna know. ”

“No, sweetheart. You're it. I'd never do what we just did with someone that isn't you, even if we're not married. Got it?”

You nod, petting his beard with both hands.

“Listen, I…” he pauses, swallows, “if something happens to me… I want you to find someone else, you don't need my permission, but I know you and–”

“Frank,” you interrupt, choking up at his words, “nothing is gonna happen to you… you're gonna come back to be with me and Lisa… you've promised, and if you don't, it'll be me coming after you, got it?”

“I, so, got it, baby.”

He holds you closely for a while and makes love to you twice more. He marches before the sun rises to find a way to keep his promise and return home for good.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #frank castle #jon bernthal #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #darlingwrites #in other words series

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kingedmundsroyalmurder · 10 months

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Blue Castle Chapters 16 and 17

“It is a pity to gather wood-flowers. They lose half their witchery away from the green and the flicker. The way to enjoy wood-flowers is to track them down to their remote haunts—gloat over them—and then leave them with backward glances, taking with us only the beguiling memory of their grace and fragrance.”

I’m starting in the middle, but with how often Cissy gets compared to flowers in chapter 16 this quote seems particularly meaningful. It’s Valancy quoting John Foster, but it also feels like a comment on Cissy going into the wider world and being ruined by heartbreak and illness. More generally this story seems fairly firmly on the side of ‘nature and freedom good, repressive society bad’ and picking a wildflower to watch it die in a flower vase is a good summation of that theme.

And Valancy is blossoming herself now that she is away from the suffocation of her family. In their post on chapter 15 @thesweetnessofspring pointed out the irony in Mrs. Stirling saying that the greatest happiness was to live life in loving service of others and then proceeding to flip out when Valancy went to do just that. Because Valancy is indeed going out to provide a service to others, she is doing it with love in her heart, and she is wildly, blissfully happy doing so. We’re shown that it’s not just the freedom from her family that she likes. She enjoys keeping house. She enjoys cooking for the household. She enjoys helping Cissy and taking care of her and feeling needed.

There is a lot of people-as-gardens/plants symbolism in this book in general. And how both people and plants thrive when they’re given what they need and suffer when they’re not. Valancy’s rosebush is physically healthy under the Stirling’s care, but it doesn’t bloom, just as Valancy herself was fed and clothed and taken to the doctor as needed but spiritually crushed. Abel Gay’s garden was neat and well cared for when Cissy was well, but has been neglected since she stopped being able to care for it, just as Cissy herself has faded away once people stopped caring for her. People, like plants, need care but they need the right kind of care. Too much attention can be just as detrimental as too little, when it’s the wrong kind of attention.

The second running theme in these two chapters is, of course, that now that Valancy has gotten a taste of speaking her mind she is finding that she rather likes it. And, unlike the Stirlings, Abel Gay likes it when she does so. It’s not said openly, but I get the impression that Cissy also appreciates Valancy’s bluntness and sass. Ironically, the fact that the Stirlings so smothered and terrified Valancy probably contributed a great deal to the fact that no one courted her or asked to marry her. If she had been allowed to be anything other than meek and downtrodden, she might well have had a better social life and marital prospects, even if she’s not classically beautiful like Olive.

Unrelated side observation: Where did Valancy learn to cook? My understanding was that Mrs. Stirling did the cooking in their household. Did they actually trade off and take turns, or does Valancy just have a knack for it? Certainly she wouldn’t have learned to cook flavorful food at her mother’s house, so maybe she’s just good at it.

Second unrelated side observation: This is so far my vote for funniest line in the book: “ And I’m not going to have you tracking mud all over a floor I’ve just scrubbed. You must use the scraper whether you consign it to perdition or not.”

#blue castle book club #blue castle chapter 16 #blue castle chapter 17

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escapeaddict · 5 months

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Howdy! If you’re still into Eah, I was curious to hear some of your mad hatter and Good king headcanons! (Together or separate doesn’t matter to me!) I read your good king/Mad hatter Writing and I liked it a lot! thank you!

Hello! I am very much still into ever after high, not to worry, I've simply been overtaken by a new hyperfixation(hatchetfield). In my mind this is still meant to be an eah blog for the most part, but I suppose I've been failing to be that lol. For people who like my writing, most of my WIPs are eah, and that's still the main fandom I plan to write for (and I have a lot of WIPs).

okay, onto the headcanons:

Good King:

things I've said before

he would never tell Raven, but he finds dogs a bit too smelly and drool-y (no, I'm not over him getting her a puppy for her sixth birthday [nor am I over what happened to said puppy])

passionate lover of ice cream

when he goes "fishing" he's really just reading books on a boat 90% of the time, but he still does it because Raven worries that he doesn't leave the house enough

was a decent hero-in-training until Legacy Day when his destiny was revealed and then no one expected him to do well anymore so he didn't bother (definitely by choice, not because he was dispirited by the lack of support, what are you taking about, this definitely isn't a sore point, pff-)

secretly a little shit(affectionate) but only in private and with the people he trusts

Mad Hatter:

is very courteous to Earl Grey, referring to him as "sir" (or Oh, Mouse, in true Wonderlandian fashion)

thinks that Raven is adorable, much to her confusion and consternation (he keeps saying it because he finds it amusing how flustered she gets)

understands more than people give him credit for (just because he mainly speaks Riddlish does not mean that he doesn't have working ears) and is actually privy to all the Book End gossip through overhearing customers conversations, though he'd never tell a soul most of what he hears (unless it's his partner)

deeply empathetic to the point of over-sensitivity but is very good at hiding it

his hats actually sell quickly, and are considered a rare commodity due to the quarantine of Wonderland (Briar is a frequent customer), but this is often overshadowed by the success of his tea shoppe

as a couple:

own an insane number of cats, who run amok in both Queen Castle and the Mad Hatter's Wonderland Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe (there's a custom made travel mirror the size of a cat flap connecting the two)

mandate a weekend family teatime where they catch up with their daughters (who occasionally aren't available in person and join via a video call)

the Good King is very good at deciphering the Mad Hatter's Riddlish (which is convenient for gossiping about the residents of Book End)

love spending quiet time together while working on their own separate things

preparing food and drink for each other (and their daughters) is very much their love language

#I was deep in a twitter fight about a problematic puppy (problematic POOCH)#ok i'll shut up about hatchetfield now #ever after high #good king #mad hatter

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coral-melon · 6 months

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Hi! looks like requests are open, so can I have a matchup for Obey Me please?

I guess I'll go by 🍰. My pronouns are she/her and I'm pansexual

Appearance: I'm a short, dirty-blonde haired woman (161 cm) and a little on the heavier side 🥲. My hair is usually cut to my shoulders. I like to dress in cute and comfortable clothing, and my friends say I have good taste in fashion. Most of my closet gives cottagecore vibes and my favourite colours are green and pink. I'm half French and half Italian if that's gonna affect my matchup

My MBTI + Enneagram is ISFJ 2w1 and my star sign is Aries, but I'd say I'm VASTLY more chill than the stereotype

Personality and Interests: I like to say I'm a kind and cheerful person, and people just feel at ease talking with me. One thing my friends and family especially likes about me is my smile. They just can't help but feel happy when they see it (allegedly). I mentioned that I was on the heavy side, and that really took a toll on my mental health, especially in my childhood. I had to work so hard to rebuild my self esteem and my own health (kids can be so cruel sometimes. goddamn 😭). I'm happy to say that I'm in a much better place now. I work out because it makes me happy, and I eat healthy for the same reason. I still cannot burn off the stubborn fat though 🥲. My insecurities often get the better of me sometimes, but I try to persevere regardless. My main goal in life is to make people smile, so I want to own a bakery in the future. My family is a strong believer in the power of kindness, so I believe that's how I can uphold that belief. I love making food and my love language is making food for others, especially sweets

Likes: Baking, cooking, sweets, sharing the baked goods I made with my friends and loved ones, anime, video games, clothes

Dislikes: Bullies, confrontation, fake friends, dishonesty, cruelty, spicy food

Hello -🍰! It’s a pleasure to meet you and thank you for taking the time to introduce yourself!

Side note: My hopeless romantic ass couldn’t help but wonder over all the possibilities I could write for you; I hope I can make you smile and have a bit of fun while reading this🥰

I match you with…~

❥ I can’t even begin to explain just how head over heels he is about you.

❥ I immediately thought Howl’s moving castle vibes.. he manages to find every part of you beautiful, even when you don’t think you are based on conventional standards.

❥ He fawns over the little things you do; to the point where even other demons are shocked with how often he thinks of you instead of himself.

❥ But your smile and laugh leave him with heart eyes.. His heart just wants to pound right out of his chest. He always lets you know how much he loves it! how he’d wish he could seduce you!

❥ As you’ve said, he also find you to be a total ease to be around. He doesn’t feel pressured to have to pose as the figure he has made himself to be and it’s a refreshing break for him. He can just be himself around you; He feels safe ^^

❥ You being the absolute Angel that you are, you’ve never judged him; but instead see him for who he really is. How could he possibly think of anyone else?

❥ Your shopping dates are always fun and eventful. You’re a total doll and he wants nothing more than to just spoil you with outfits. Anything that will make you shine, so he wants you to gain confidence in yourself! And what better way to do that than making you feel like you could take over the world, baby gurl~? ;)

❥ I’d imagine that both of you have a similar way of eating. He works out too, so you can join each other! He’s work out is nothing compared to Beel’s, but that’s the good thing about it; it gets the job done and is very good for the body and mind. Overall, it’s very energizing👍

❥ But you can be open to him with whatever’s on your mind. He’d never brush away your feelings; rather, he always has them in mind. Your always so cheerful that it worries him sometimes if you don’t tell him somethings up.

❥ He himself does it, he doesn’t want to burden others with negative stuff. So both of you come to an understanding and help each other out if you need to let something out of your system.

❥ If you’re feeling insecure about anything, he’ll do anything and everything in his power to make you feel other wise. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, he’ll be by your side every step of the way.

❥ 1000% supports your dream of opening your own bakery! He always takes pictures of everything you make your him; he doesn’t even care if he’s on a diet, he’ll eat and enjoy every last bite of it. If Beel doesn’t get to it first..

❥ And when you open it? It’ll be one of the most sought out bakery in all of Devildom! Your business if gonna boom and your life is set forever! >:D✨

❥ As I e said before, there’s a lot of times where he catches himself thinking about you rather than himself. He loves you, like, a lot! And everyone knows that. But he wants you to know that. You’re precious~

End

Aaaahhh! I took too damn long to finish this but I hope you see this and end up liking it! I felt butterflies while writing this, I just hope it doesn’t suck 🥲

Take care and have an amazing day/night -🍰! luv ya~ ♡

#-🍰#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me matchups #obey me requests

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bannedfromtheaters · 2 years

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underneath the stars (i'll wait for you)

A sleepy conversation beneath the Sun Tree makes Imogen realize several things. That she loves Laudna is the least surprising revelation of all. (1.4k one-shot) Read on AO3

During dinner at the de Rolo castle is when it really hits Imogen, though she’s been noticing it since the moment Laudna opened her eyes again. It’s hard not to notice, after spending years together. How tired she is, how guarded. Every movement of her muscles is restraint and her eyes dart around, scanning for any danger from each corner. Laudna grabs at her belt and clutches Pâté in her bony hand and holds him tight. While her other hand holds a fork and mindlessly pushes some food around her plate, never taking a bite.

Imogen shudders a breath. Did they make the right call bringing her back? She wanted it to be her choice this time, and in her heart she hopes it was Laudna who chose to come back. And though she's sure that this is what Laudna wants too, seeing her so scared and guarded it becomes impossible not to have a few seeds of doubts.

But the alternative, a world without Laudna…

Imogen swallows down the lump in her throat. In hindsight, Orym calling upon the Tempest had been the right move. This resurrection was the acceptable road; the clean version that would make them honorable mercenaries for saving their friend. But if someone else had offered a hand, if she had to make a pact with a demon, or hell, if Delilah had taken that gnarlrock in exchange for Laudna’s life, Imogen wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. No cost is too great when it comes to Laudna, and she isn’t sure what kind of person that makes her. Maybe protective, but certainly not honorable, and definitely desperate.

Mister jumps in front of her plate and Imogen startles out of her thoughts. He’s swinging around a toy gun and runs crisscross on the table. It is absolute chaos around the dinner table, but Imogen fails to focus on any of it. Her eyes can’t leave Laudna. Afraid that if she looks away, engages with her friends just for a moment, Laudna would disappear again.

Laudna seems to notice, as her eye catches her. Those beautiful, big eyes of her. Usually so full of life, and now they look so scared instead.

“Quite the dinner, right?” Imogen tries for a smile.

When Laudna doesn’t immediately reply, she thinks she couldn’t hear her above the noise and wants to connect to her telepathically to ask again. But then she notices the frown on Laudna’s face, still pondering over the question, and she decides to wait.

Her nails rub on Pâté’s skull in a repetitive pattern and for a flash Imogen sees another Laudna, Matilda, the shadow form of a shy girl playing with her dolls, she has become acquainted with in the other realm.

Laudna’s lips part to say something, but then she holds back. She looks over to Imogen once more and nods her head slightly. Her eyes dart back to her lap, and Imogen’s heart sinks in her chest. She isn’t sure if it’ll ever be the same, but she does know that she has made a promise to Laudna. That whatever holes Delilah has left, she is going to be there to help fill it. Whatever it takes. Whatever Laudna is willing to accept, she will give. Always.

At Laudna’s request, they camp beneath to the Sun Tree for the night. It’s cold outside, but the warmth radiating from the tree reaches over them like a protective bubble, making it bearable to sleep out in the open.

Chetney and Ashton fall asleep within seconds, while Fearne and Orym are chatting softly like they usually do. It only becomes noticeable when Fearne’s giggle comes through every so often. And even though F.C.G. is a bit further away from her, Imogen knows they have their eyes on her, ready to jump into her dream in a moment’s notice.

But she knows she won’t find rest any time soon. Her mind is moving at the speed of lightning, refusing to slow down. She has a million questions and even more doubts. Hearing about Laudna’s memories over the years was one thing, but today she got to experience them. Nothing could have prepared her for that. No wonder Laudna was so skittish during dinner. On their travels she’s seen glimpses of this side of Laudna too, but never this bad. Memories start flushing back to her mind and even more questions surface.

When did you start calling yourself Laudna instead of Matilda? How awful was it, being thrown back into your most painful memories? Could you hear me during the resurrection ritual? Do you know if Delilah is still present? Are you truly happy you’re brought back, or did you want to have eternal peace instead? It’s okay, I understand either way. I'm sorry for bringing you back to Whitestone. It was the only option left. Will you forgive me for being so selfish, for needing you beside me?

She feels Laudna stir underneath her arm and Imogen holds her breath, afraid even the slightest exhale would wake her up. Laudna’s visage relaxes once more and a slight smile curls on Imogen’s lips. She’s missed this. Curled up together. Being close. Admiring her friend. Wishing her nothing but a blissful sleep with none of the pain and heartache she has been needing to endure for decades.

She remembers when she truly realized watching Laudna was her favorite sight. Just after they made up after their fight. After Yu. Still so fresh, hardly a week ago, and so much has happened since then. It’s hard to comprehend. It’s even harder to comprehend it has taken this long to fully grasp how deep her feelings run for Laudna. She has fallen in love with her best friend, and she’s afraid she’s still standing on the edge, leering over the unknown depths of how much deeper she can fall. And she will. Imogen knows she will take that leap and only fall deeper from here on out, and she knows it’s the last thing Laudna needs, and it wouldn’t even matter. Every day she is going to fall deeper and deeper and it will be the most wonderfully terrifying experience of her life.

Imogen breathes out the swirling thoughts and closes her eyes, trying to find some sleep through it all.

Will you ever be able to access that part of your brain? If not, is it still okay that I do? That I’m only beginning to realize how much I love you? Do you know it’s fine if you can’t love me the same way? That I wouldn’t mind either way? Because I don’t care how I can express it, as long as I’m allowed to love you. As long as we can be together for the rest of our lives. Is that okay? Would you mind?

“What’s keeping you up, darling?” Laudna’s mumbly voice penetrates her thoughts.

Her eyes shoot open and Imogen stares at Laudna, who still looks fast asleep. Though Imogen is sure it wasn't imagined, and suddenly gets worried she accidentally connected with her mentally without realizing. Then again, Imogen doubts she’d look so relaxed if she had. It’s just Laudna looking out for her, as always.

“A lot,” she admits, not daring to link mentally in case any of her thoughts spill over. It’s the last thing Laudna needs, and Imogen has made her peace with that. Though she doesn’t want to keep any secrets from her either. She hesitates for a moment and then adds quietly: “You, mostly.”

Laudna’s eyes flutter open at those words. “You want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head and tucks some hair behind Laudna’s ear. “Not tonight. You need your rest.”

“As do you.”

She shushes her, and it’s all it takes for Laudna’s eyes to droop again.

“Don’t worry about me, Laudna,” she whispers to her, and she feels Laudna curling into her, falling and falling and falling deeper. Deeper asleep. Imogen’s heart aches, feeling the weight of her love she will carry from now on. Maybe one day it’ll be too much and she’ll explode, but she can’t imagine that even being a bad thing, because she knows Laudna will be there to pick up the pieces.

Imogen plants a gentle kiss on Laudna’s temple and nestles inside the nape of her neck. The cold of Laudna’s body feels warm compared to yesterday, and Imogen sighs happily.

“It’s okay,” she mumbles before drifting off, “I can wait.”

#critical role #critrole #imodna #southerngothic #laudna x imogen #laudna #imogen temult #cr fic

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palskippah · 1 year

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Hi! You saw preg Bowuigi, but may I present to you… preg Mareach ✨

The thought won't leave my mind after I mindlessly drew Mario asking Luigi how is it to be pregnant and then it escalated from there 😔

So! Here's some headcanons (that you can find too in the drawings) for this:

Edit! I deleted the suggestive-y ideas to make it more all viewers-friendly, sorry!