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shooting-love-arrows · 6 months

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𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 reacts to...cheater! reader

Request made by Anon:

Hi! I just read your post about yan 1950 house husband, it's amazing. Can you write his reaction if reader cheated on him? If you don't feel comfortable with this ask, feel free to ignore this. Remember to take care of yourself and have a nice day.

Hello to you too, dear Anon,

First of all, I must apologize but your request suddenly disappeared from my inbox! Thankfully, I have the content of your request saved in my google docs so I pasted it above.

Putting that aside, although this topic is sensitive to some, I am fine with writing about that.

I appreciate your words. It's very nice of you to think about little ol' me. I wish you a nice day too (even if it's not a daytime)!

Thank you and I hope to hear from you soon!

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x [CHEATER!] reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied), your lovers genger isn't specified/mentioned/implied either. Don't be swayed by the curses used to describe them; Tw. cheating/indifelity from the reader, cursing, description of a m*urder, delusion (delulu is the solulu), emotional manipulation, gaslightning; A/N: As a person, I do not support this kind of behavior. This is only a piece of fiction, serving for entertaining purposes only.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Denial. Denial. Denial. At first 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 doesn’t believe it. No, he refuses to do so. You’re the most faithful and perfect partner known to the human kind. Right then, he's desperately holding on to that image. But unfortunately, evidence says otherwise. A simple photo, sent to him by your lover, secretly taken by some photographer is clearly showing you and (that whore) your lover, in some hotel room, in an intimate position. It is clear that day that you have an affair.

“But what if my darling was forced to do this?”

That question sends him into a spiral of delusion, rage and sorrow. As a defence mechanism, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 made up a story where suddenly you were a victim in this whole situation. It was definitely your lover who has forced themselves on you. Probably blackmailed or worse, drugged you to have a taste of sweet love and burning passion you share while making love with him.

“My poor darling…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 wailed, clenching his chest like someone was physically ripping away his still beating heart from it. Fat tears ran down his rosy cheeks, smudging his mascara and turning him into a crying mess. “I’ll avenge you, my darling. I won’t forgive what was done to you!”

He doesn’t even blink when he sends your lover into the pits of hell. There’s no hesitation when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 plans this hideous crime, making sure every detail is taken care of. And so, it begins small, like creating false and disgusting rumors about your lover. Day by day, he patiently destroys your lover's life. Until the day when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 poisons them through his signature pie and then proceeds to repeatedly stab your lover until no one is able to recognize them in the first place.

"YOU WENCH!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 roared at the person who happened to be your lover. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!" With every word he dove the sharp, kitchen knife deeper and harder into his victim's chest. "DIE!!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 yelled for the final time and knife one last time, straight in this whore heart. He was left alone in the empty and messy kitchen, covered in blood, panting and trying to catch his breath.

In the end, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 begins to gaslight you. Once again, with the patience of a saint, he began to manipulate you to believe that it was in fact your lover who was using you all this time. You were forced into this vile affair and you are a victim.

“My innocent darling, you mustn't think about it (them) anymore. I will make everything perfect once again.”

But isn’t it weird how he started wearing clothes that are scarily similar to those worn by your lover? Sniff…sniff…and those perfumes…

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

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thinking about size kink/belly bulge with neteyam :D

– 🪅

🔞mdni; adult!nete - continuation of this blurb

this is the only blurb i'll be posting tonight guys, sorry <3 working on the loak fic tonight :) but thought i'd serve some bfast/lunch/dinner

"oh, fuck. he definitely did." you curse under your breath, watching in awe as neteyam's hung cock springs from his thigh to slap his belly all on it's own.

it rests on his stomach, fat tip oozing a bead of clear, glossy precum right below his cross shaped ribs. he's watching, too - witnessing the bead of precum slowly trickle down into the dip of his belly button. his head snaps up, predatory, irate gaze boring directly into yours. if he didn't have his hands tied behind his back, you would have actually been a bit frightened.

"untie me." he growls deep in his chest, attempting to lunge forward only to be tugged backward by his restraints. "eywa, woman."

you open your legs wider as a response, scooting towards him as your two fingers spread your folds for him - exposing your glistening pussy. now he's the one staring in awe, gaze softening into something of wanton. the look on his face gives it away, the relaxed brows, his slightly parted lips - the way his chest heaves. wrapping your dainty fingers around his throbbing cock, your thumb grazes over his cockhead before you quickly put it in your mouth to have a taste.

"mmm. still don't get how it's so sweet." you hum, tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

neteyam's arousal is undeniable, especially now that you've done that. seeing you taste him so eagerly just made his cock throb even more, his heart thump even harder. his blood rushes not only to his cock but to his face, staining his cheeks a faint shade of pink.

"wouldn't mind if i borrowed him for a bit, right? you pant, slowly brushing your fingers against his firm balls and up his entire length, before grasping his cock once more.

what could he say? no? all he wanted to do was break free, pin you down and sink his cock inside you. but here you are, asking permission to do just that. maybe being tied up isn't as bad as he thought. it didn't matter what he said, though. you were having your way with him regardless, lining up his mushroomy tip with your dripping slit. so, he opts to stay quiet and watch the show unfold.

you smile, feeling like you were in control for once in this relationship. unbeknownst to you, he's loosening the flimsy knot on the rope restraining his wrists behind his back.

"i'll take that... as a yes." you huff, lifting your hips to slowly sink his cock inside your cunt. "oh fuck, fuck, fuck." you moan breathily, as you both watch every inch of him disappear inside you, pelvises meeting one another.

he peers up at your screwed face through furrowed brows, breathing loudly as your cunt stretches out to accommodate his sheer size. he grits his teeth, willing himself to remain silent as you use him like a fucktoy, sliding up and down on his cock. his eyes slam shut, heavy breaths quickly morphing into low groans.

"yeah? that feel good? tell me, nete." you pant, grip tightening around his ankles while you use them as leverage to fuck his cock faster.

his eyes fly open, staring directly into yours, just as he rams his cock so deep inside you that your body has nowhere to go but up. "holy fuck, neteyam!" you cry out, feeling his tip threaten drill its way into your cervix. he holds his position, heels of his feet digging into the ground beneath him.

"you tell me. does that feel good? hm?" he growls, gaze dropping to the bulge in your abdomen. "look at me inside you, so fucking deep." he say breathily, hands slipping through the rope just in time to grab your hips to shove you further down on his cock. a loud, piercing whimper evades your flushed lips, as the bulge in your belly only protrudes more.

"i said, look at me inside you!" he shifts his hips, jamming his tip into your gummy walls.

your head snaps down, breath hitching as you take in the sight of the bulge jutting out of your belly. "oh shit." you let out a soft mewl.

#high issy talks #neteyam smut #avatar smut #awow smut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam sully #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam x female reader #lo'ak smut #lo’ak smut #loak smut

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nyoomiin · 29 days

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roommates: part three.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

“Me?” the boy asks hesitantly, glancing toward his companion for help.

Niwa — right, that was his name — laughs, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and pushing him forward. “You're scaring him, my dear.”

You roll your eyes at your friend, then give the boy another cursory once-over. You were right. He'd be perfect for the garment you were designing. Beckoning him over, you grin at him as you lead him into your fitting room. “I have just the thing for you! Let me take your measurements first, then I'll tailor the clothes to fit. Niwa, I'll give you a discount only because you brought this angel here.”

“Hah! You're the best.”

Shaking your head with a fond smile, you turn toward the boy. He looked nervous, fiddling with the hem of his sleeves, but no matter — it was time to get to work.

You blink, rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to clear your mind, trying to recall the dream you just had. Yet try as you might, it slips from your grasp, the faint trace of nostalgia slipping away with the breeze.

It was blue, you think.

And that's when inspiration struck.

"It's perfect,” you murmur, holding up the finished product in your hands.

A soft, silky shawl of blues and teals, dusted with a faint shimmer — an olive branch for your roommate, so to speak. Honestly, you were getting pretty tired of him wearing the same outfit almost daily, and what better gift than one handmade?

He'd look positively angelic in it, you think. You only hope he doesn't slam the door in your face before you could give it to him. You huff. He had better like it. You hadn't rushed your commission and put all that effort into the shawl for nothing. Not to mention, the materials you used were nothing but the highest of quality. Hmph.

“What do you want?” comes his gruff response to your knock on his door.

At the very least, he wasn't outright ignoring you like he used to do a week ago. You grin, even if he can't see it. "I have something for you! It's handmade. Come and take a look at it at least. Pretty please?”

It's silent.

A minute passes, then two.

You sigh, turning away in defeat. Another day, then. Though at this rate, that day might never come at all… Well, you hadn't put in all that effort just to give up now.

"I'll leave it here by the door,” you call. Just for good measure, you give the door another rap to be sure you still had his attention. "I don't care what you do with it as long as it's not still here by tomorrow morning. Have a good night!”

You turn away to leave, but this time, it's with a petty, stubborn resolve. One way or another, he would be your friend. He had to.

(His hands ghost over the shawl, fingers trembling.

It's soft, he notes, and every thread carefully woven. The design embroidered on its edges is undeniably Sumerian, but he can tell its maker is undeniably you.

And his heart thrums, loud in his ears and suffocating in his chest. It's infuriating.

This version of you is not the same as the version of the past he had known — that he cannot refute. Yet from your smile to your needlework, down to the way you'd leave him a warm bowl of soup — how could you not be one and the same?

He sets the shawl back down into the box it had come in, only to notice a piece of paper at its bottom.

This is for you, it reads. I think we got off on the wrong start that day, so I made this for you to make up for it. I hope you like it.

He scoffs, amused at your attempts to befriend him. It had worked on him then, when he had been clueless and naive and far too trusting, but fat chance it would work on him now. You don’t even remember him, for fuck's sake.

Still, he thinks, perhaps he should indulge you just the once. For old time's sake.)

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi

#—stellaronhvnters.#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin #rlly laying it on thick there but anyway

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transmutationisms · 2 months

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could you talk more on eds and biopolitics?

sure, so this is broad strokes and it's also worth reiterating that the energy deficit characteristic of EDs can have a lot of different causes besides intentional food restriction—food insecurity is a huge and underrecognised factor here but there are many others. so when i talk about intentional restriction and the desire to be thin / lose weight, i'm not suggesting these are universal characteristics or causes of EDs.

anyway though, in the context of discussing these things, and particularly the relationship between 'diet culture' and EDs, a perennial frustration to me is that i often hear people fall back on the idea that the desire to be thin comes about as a result of the beauty standards perpetuated in mass media, fashion adverts, &c, without any subsequent interrogation of why it is that beauty itself is now so heavily dependent on thinness. after all, plenty of people have pointed out this is not a universal; beauty varies in different times and places, what is described or depicted as beautiful in historical records doesn't necessarily have much overlap with today's hegemonic standards, and so forth.

so when historicising this phenomenon it becomes very clear that the euro/anglo standard of thinness as beauty is, one, part of the ideological apparatus justifying colonialism thru the creation of race and white supremacy. sabrina strings and da'shaun harrison have written on this. two, the thin ideal is also inextricably tied up in medical discourses defining the ideal body as one that is economically productive, with the promise being that if the populace can be transformed into 'healthy',*** useful, hardworking citizens, the state benefits. control of bodyweight is therefore certainly a means of demonstrating one's supposed self-control, moral discipline, &c, but it is also a demand expressed in medical terms: these two discourses merge and overlap, and are both part of the capitalist state's transformation of its citizenry into a biological resource that can be controlled, managed, and exploited to bourgeois ends (profit): hence, biopolitics.

(***the story of how 'health' itself comes to be so dependent on thinness is obviously a critical piece of all this but this post is long as shit already so suffice it to say that this conflation is also not obvious, necessary, universal, &c &c)

medico-political discourses in the 19th century tended to talk about the dangers of both over- and under-weight more than what we hear now; similarly, if you think about something like wilbur atwater's calorie-value charts, these were explicitly intended to guide labourers to the most calorie-dense foods, because to atwater the central danger to be avoided was starvation among the workforce. these days in wealthy countries like the us, you are much more likely to hear about weight management in the context of demands to reduce; this is of course following moves like the WHO declaring an 'obesity epidemic' in 1997, and the rise in the usa of more explicitly nationalist, militaristic weight-loss rhetoric in the post-9/11 era.

however, my position is that these demands for thinness, and the beauty standard that follows and justifies them, are not a departure from earlier 19th- and 20th-century scientific nutrition advice, just an evolution that, for a multitude of reasons (politics, medical professional interests, insurance company practices, &c) has simply come to focus more on the ostensible economic and national threat posed by fatness. the underlying logic bears the biopolitical throughline: the state has, or ought to have, an interest in enforcing the health of its population, and as part of this demands that you the individual surveil and alter your weight according to the scientific guidelines du jour.

this is fertile ground for the development of what, in extreme form, we regard as ED pathology. first, because even the most purely 'health'-motivated individual engaging in the required degree of bodily monitoring and caloric restriction is liable to respond to energy deficit in ways that can become diagnosably distressing. second, because the morals of 'health' are never far from standards of beauty; thinness is sold in overtly profitable ways (the diet and weight-loss industries) and furthermore, our idea of beauty is often a kind of post hoc justification for the thinness already being demanded by state and medical authorities. which is really just to say, beauty is part of the ideological superstructure both resulting from and invoked as a justification for the material conditions of capitalist biopolitics. again this is very broad strokes, but imo it is a much more useful framework to understand EDs than simply presenting them as a result of desiring thinness because it is glorified in The Media, because... reasons (essentially the rené girard model, lol).

#eating disorders

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bunnimatsu · 5 months

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Now what about dom Matsus 😈

im tryna clear out my inbox so, thank you anon for this one!

tag(s): nothing too hardcore but if it’s too much for you, i’m sorry!, lowkey cringe, nsfw, dom matsus, not really edited and its basically just me horny talking and pulling it out of my ass, brat tamer karamatsu (that one’s for you @thebardisabird and @squidzza , I DID IT)

i tried to finish this as fast as i could.

osomatsu, who’s absolutely merciless when it comes to pounding you. he’ll grip your hips and slam himself into you over and over again, never slowing his pace down as wanton cries leave your lips. when you throw your head back in ecstasy, a smirk forms on his lips. he leans down and nearly whispers in your ear: “yeah you like that? tell oso how it feels…~ say it~” and when you can only let out cries and whimpers, his hand comes down on the fat of your ass and thighs while demanding you say who’s making you feel this good.

karamatsu, who’s a brat tamer. he’s the second oldest. he has younger brothers who get on his fucking nerves, you think he has time for YOUR shit, [name]? imagine: you’ve spent a looong time dragging him around the mall and doing things YOU wanted but the one time he wanted to do something, you whined a little and said no. kara had it rough the day prior and he thought shopping with you today would ease his mind but that little stunt made him snap. he grabbed your chin and tilted it up to look at him, his eyes a darker brown than you originally thought. he looked mean… “darling…i’ve spent so long trying to please you today…just like how you deserve..but the one time i ask for something i want…i get a no and a whine.. i’m very tired, cherie…” you’ve never seen him like this before and to be honest, it made you squirm a little. “you’re going into this store and shutting that pretty little mouth…understood?”

and that was the night karamatsu absolutely rocked your shit. hands tied to the bed post and having no mercy on your pretty body.

choromatsu, who no longer gets nervous around you and started to show the strict side of him. at first, he was always careful when it came down to spending a night with him. gentle caresses and slow yet nervous kisses down your body, asking ‘i-is that okay..?’. you loved it, sure, but you wanted more. you knew what choromatsu was capable of, especially when it comes down to being mean. you see it when he’s badgering at his brothers, yelling at them for being lazy pieces of shit and…ordering them around. to be honest, it was kind of sexy. he was a little shocked when you asked him if he can apply that kind of behavior in bed but he didn’t oppose to it. so naturally, you found yourself facing a mirror while you were sat on his lap, bouncing on his cock. his hands made their way up to your chest to tweak your nipples and when you tilt your head back in pleasure, he firmly grabs your cheeks and makes you look into the mirror again. “don’t look away. i told you not to look away.”

ichimatsu, who always has to have you bound. gagged, on a good day. he puts you in positions you didn’t even know existed and it leaves your poor muscles sore the next day. ichi loves to get rough with you, treating you like you’re his prey while he’s the predator. your entire body would always be covered in bruises and bite marks and it makes him always smirk in pride. he always leaves your legs shaking, whether he’s drilling into your sopping wet pussy or driving his tongue deep into you, hoping to get more and more of your sweet essence. more. ichi wants more of you. and he’ll do anything to get it.

jyushimatsu, who pins you against anything and everything. there isn’t a single piece of furniture in your house that’s untouched by you and him. he’ll have sex with you at any chance he gets if you ask him. he’ll hold you up against the wall, his biceps flexing a bit in his compression long sleeve as he pistons his hips into yours. the usual wide-mouthed smile he has on his face is replaced with a look of concentration, focused on your body and how it reacts to his touch. but that also quickly fades back to his smile as he looks at you and laughs almost joyously, “am i making you feel good?”

todomatsu, who loves to tease you. light feather touches as you sit in your chair at the mixer he took you to. you knew what he was doing, and by god, did it make you squirm a bit. it all started because atsushi was sat across from you. you were just being friendly to the guy, chatting like how you normally would. but todomatsu hated that. he didn’t like the way his ‘friend’ looked at you. only he was allowed to look at you like that, why were you letting him? and then you felt it. todomatsu’s hands gently rubbing your thigh. you looked down at his hand then up at him, moving your leg away then going back to talking to atsushi. mistake #1. he didn’t like that, so he took it a bit further. when atsushi started talking to the others at the table, you felt your boyfriend’s hand dip between your thighs, brushing against your heat slightly. you jerked forward and played it off as something else when atsushi asked if you were okay. todomatsu retracted his hand as if nothing happened, giving you a stupid coy smile. that night when you two went home, your legs were immediately spread open while he worked the vibrator against your aching cunt. you cried for forgiveness as you made a mess for what seemed like the hundredth time. he smiled sadistically as he cooed at you. “i don’t think you really are sorry~”

—————————————————————————

and that’s that!

sorry if it’s underwhelming, writing’s still not my strong suit.

anyway, i have to tell you guys agaaiiinnn, my ask box regarding writing is closed so please, don’t send me stuff unless i say otherwise 🥹

other than that, love ya!

- jarvis <3

#jarvis.fics #osomatsu san #mr. osomatsu x reader #osomatsu san imagines #osomatsu san smut #mr. osomatsu smut #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu

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dotster001 · 2 years

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You know what a mean entitled girl is ? Like Idia, Vil, malleus, rook, crewel and Crowley standing up for the reader who is being harassed by a mean girl?

Maybe for Crowley and crewel the reader can be a teacher and the mean girl can be a rsa teacher?

Fluff plz

(thank you for the request and for brainstorming with me! I hope they came out how you hoped 🥺 this is a long one so buckle up folks)

Cw:mean girl stuff, use of slut in rooks part, fat shaming in Crewel's, fem!reader

A/N: I've said this in my pin post, but I age up characters to actual college age, because I am in college, and didn't realize until a few months in the characters were not. Everyone here is. 18+

Moments like these were why he hated to leave his room.

But he had promised to meet you in the library so he could help you understand magic and technology. You wanted to learn all about this world you'd been thrown into, and had been told Idia was the best person to ask about this type of magic.

It's not like he could tell you no! You were his player 2, his Persephone (not that he'd told you that yet, but still)!

He had arrived just in time to see a richly clad preppy looking girl walk over to your table. Upon a second glance, he realized it was the daughter of one of the higher ups at Olympos INC.

He hid behind a bookshelf and waited. "You're that magicless nobody at NRC, right?"

You gave a tired laugh and gave an affirmative.

"Then you're the one Idia Shroud has been spending all his time with." He watched as she took her perfectly manicured hand and grabbed a lock of your hair, dragging you closer. He felt like he was going to be sick, and you looked like it.

The smile never left her face as she said, "Listen, dearie, Idia Shroud deserves to be with someone of his caliber, not some stupid girl who can't even perform magic."

Idia felt something snap in him. How dare she talk to you that way! He left his hiding spot and demanded to know why she thought she could treat you like that.

The girl let go of your hair and began stuttering out an explanation but Idia wouldn't have it.

"Y/N is perfect for me! She understands me, and cares about me, and is such a bad ass. I'd like to see you defeat an overblotting mage when you have no magic!"

She continued stuttering but he interrupted. "Y/N is an SSR character, and you're just a normie. So stop wasting my time and get out of here."

She turned pale and ran. After Idia's rage had cleared he got embarrassed and realized everything he'd said.

Please give him hugs! And don't mention his pink hair! He can defend you, but actually talking to you is different, so please be patient with him!

Vil knew he wanted to date you, but he also knew that given his position, he would have to get both you and his fans used to each other. He was doing this by hanging out with you more in public, and posting photos of the two of you on friend outings.

It was ironic that his more aggressive fans would catch up to you on the day he had planned to ask you to be his girlfriend.

You were at a cafe, and he had had you pick out a table while he grabbed your drinks. When he turned around, he saw a crowd led by a flawlessly styled girl.

The crowd was yelling at you until the girl held up her hand for silence. "What makes you think you can date Vil Schoenheit?" "Oh, we're not…" you tried to deny it but she interrupted you.

"I've done some research on you. And from what I can see, nothing about you is worthy of him." You looked down at the table, and he heard you faintly whisper, "you're right."

The girl grinned. "I'm glad we have an understanding. Now get out of here before you embarrass yourself further."

You stood up to leave as Vil elegantly strode over to you. He gently took your chin in his hand and gave you a soft kiss on your lips. When he pulled back, he said, "I've got our drinks, my sweet potato, but I don't think we should stay here. The people here seem much too uncouth for my preferences." You gave a shocked nod, and the two of you left, the girl's mouth gaping in shock.

Once you reached a secondary location, Vil apologized for kissing you without permission then asked if you were alright. Once you gave him an affirmative, he gently pushed your hair out of your face and with a coy smile said, "you know, I wouldn't mind the opportunity to kiss you again. After all, you owe me for the coffee, and for saving you from that crowd."

The next day, a photo of the two of you was posted on his magicam, officially announcing your relationship, and the caption stating that he had fallen for the fairest one of all.

Malleus and you had been dating for quite some time, but had agreed to keep it quiet until his graduation and coronation.

Unfortunately, this meant that he was still receiving unwanted attention from both men and women who wanted a political marriage.

Today, a fae woman from a well off family was spending the day with him. He knew that her family had wanted a political marriage with him, but I stead of ruining all ties, he humored her request to visit him for the day.

It was needlessly bothersome. She was truly a skin deep woman, who spent most of the day flattering him, and batting her lashes at him.

The only good part of his day was when he got to see you for a couple of minutes at lunch time. You had sought him out with some extra sweets you had bought for him, introduced yourself to the fae woman and gone on your way.

There was no reason for his guest to think anything of your relationship, but being the only girl in an all boy's school had her immediately deem you a threat.

Now, in the midst of her flattery, she was throwing in subtle insults at you, your standing, your character, anything she thought she could glean from your brief meeting.

"I can't even imagine what it is like for you to have to attend classes with a useless human." That did it. Diplomacy be damned. He whirled in on the woman, and the sky outside grew dark and stormy.

"Useless? Where were you when I was lonely? Where were you when I needed anything? Y/N is my child of man, your future queen, and you will treat them with the respect that a human of their intelligence, kindness, and beauty deserves." The woman cowered Infront of him, thoroughly chastised. He turned on his heels, and said, "This visit is over" without looking back at her.

As he was walking away he was surprised to find you running down the hallway. When you spotted him, your face relaxed in relief and you made your way to him.

"Mal Mal! I saw the storm, are you alright?" If he hadn't already fallen for you, he would have fallen deeper in love right then with your sweet eyes looking up at him full of concern, only for him.

"Yes my child of man," he cupped your face gently. "All is well." The storm cleared, and all was well. He would protect you no matter who he had to upset. You were worth it.

Rook was out hunting. For you. So he wasn't really hunting, He was just watching you from the top of a tree and basking in your presence.

You probably knew he was there. You were so incisive like that. It's why you were his favorite prey.

As he watched, he saw a girl make her way over to you. He could sense only bad intentions from her, but what kind of hunter would he be if he intervened while you defended yourself!

The girl stood in front of you and gave a sugary artificial smile. "You're Y/N, right?" Once you gave a nod, she sat down with you.

She began to talk non stop while you just sat there listening. After a while he heard her say, "You know, most of the guys here have a crush on you." Rook held back a growl. He knew that, but said men who had a crush on you had an unspoken agreement not to say anything about it.

"Oh." That was all you said in response. Rook wondered if this was the first time you'd thought about it. It seemed to be.

"Yeah," the girl continued. "And you're the only girl at an all boy's school." You looked like you were about to ask what she was doing here then, when she said, "I'm just here visiting my brother. But from what I hear, it seems as though you enjoy the attention." She gave a withering glare. "My brother says you'll spend time with any boy who asks. One guy isn't enough for you, huh?" Rook knew it was coming, but he was still filled with rage when he heard it. "Slut."

He jumped down from the tree immediately. The girl was startled, but you were not. He was right, you'd known he was there. But the pride he'd felt from that was overshadowed by the urge to protect his lapin.

"Mademoiselle, it would be better for you not to listen to baseless rumors, and then spread them around. It is not a beautiful look for you."

She tried to swallow her shock, and retort, "It's not baseless. I heard from my brother, and she clearly relishes the attention."

Rook tilted his head to the side. "Yes, I'm sure madame trickster enjoys the men who leer at her like a piece of meat. I'm sure she enjoys having to triple check that her doors are locked at night. And I'm sure she adores having to worry about the men who she turned down, of which I'm sure your brother is one." He gave her a withering glare. "Even if she did enjoy the attention, it would be no concern of yours."

She looked frightened, but still managed to storm off. He then turned his attention to you. "Are you alright mon ange?" You nodded, and thanked him for defending you. "Non, non, to see your beautiful face married with worry would be a burden I could not bear." He playfully placed his hat on your head down over your eyes, and relished in your giggles.

He knew today wouldn't be a good time to confess, but when he did, he would definitely want to hear more of that laugh.

After you'd graduated, and still hadn't found a way to return home, he had offered you a job at the college as his full time assistant. After a couple years, and actually getting paid for your efforts, the two of you had become closer.

Trein was preparing to retire. You were at a meeting with a prospective new teacher who was applying for his position. You were taking notes while Crowley asked her questions. It was moments like these that he couldn't see himself without you. You were just the dynamic duo!

When the interview was over, he had you show her out. He was planning on asking you to dinner after this, so he was hastily trying to finish any remaining paperwork while he waited for you to return.

It had been quite a while, and now he was starting to worry. You had handled numerous dangerous situations by yourself, so he knew you could handle yourself. But he still felt like he should check on you.

When he found you, you looked shaken as the teacher he was interviewing was talking down to you. "That's what I thought. All that education was wasted on you. You'll never be better than an arm candy assistant."

He waited for you to fight back, but you just looked tired. How long had she been going at you like this? You'd never give up easily, so it must have been for just slightly too long.

"Y/N, there you are, I was beginning to worry." He strode over to you, "You know I can't possibly run this school without you right? You'd been taking so long, I'd almost accidentally sold the Savannahclaw dorm!"

"Again?" You said with a roll of your eyes. There he'd gotten your mind off her insults. Now to deal with her.

"You see, I'm mostly headmage in name only at this point. Y/N here is in charge of everything, the financials, admissions, student therapy, hiring. If we lost her, the school would surely go up in flames. My graciousness can only go so far!"

At the word "hiring" he saw the teacher blanch. She made a hasty excuse and apology, and dashed out of there.

"Thanks for your kind words, headmage, but I don't really deserve…" "It's Crowley, my dear," he interrupted. "And before you start telling yourself you don't deserve praise, you should know that even though I am endlessly kind, I don't throw words around lightly. I meant every bit of it." He gently took your hand. "I would be lost without you."

You're smile was all the thanks he needed, and the two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment before he interrupted it. "We should probably go buy back the Savannaclaw dorm though…." "Crowley!!!!!"

Crewel had called you and Vil into his office after the fairy gala. Crewel had offered you a part time position modeling at his side company. You'd never considered yourself conventionally attractive, but they assured you that wasn't a problem. You had a great dignity, could hold up under pressure, and looked good in Crewel's designs. That's all that mattered.

At the time you had accepted because you figured it would be a great way to make some spare change to support yourself and Grim on until you went home, but as time went on you never went home, and now you had a rather large following, a diploma from NRC, and a full time job at his modeling company.

Crewel would rather spend his time with you, but he still worked at NRC, so he had left you for the day, and hoped he would get to see you work with the designer your manager had suggested for you when he came back.

He came back to see a woman in very heavy, very real looking firs, staring at you like you were dirt.

He walked in as she was circling you, and he recognized her immediately. He made a note to himself to fire your manager, because this designer was on his do not work with list, and he walked into what was surely a blood bath.

"Ah, Divus." She said coldly. "Would you care to tell me why this is your best model? She's quite plain, and much too fat for my work, that I had assumed it was a joke when I walked in here. And! She has something against real furs, and 'non sustainably sourced material's C'mon Divus. Has your company sunk so low?"

You were not fat. You just weren't skinny enough that you could count your ribs. There were two things that Crewel would not stand for; cruelty to animals, and cruelty to humans. Without fail, this designer always did both. Normally he would have shown her out by now, but she had clearly gotten under your skin.

"Y/N is my best model. She isn't, she's just not starved, which I know is not your preference. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and understands the long term consequences a designer like you can have on our world. It's not even her world, but she still cares more than you. That should tell you something."

She was about to interrupt, but he smacked his whip into his palm. "Bad puppies do not get to speak. You would be lucky to work with a model as wonderful as my Y/N. Unfortunately, your luck has run out, and I will need you to leave the premises immediately.

The designer left with a huff. Crewel walked over to you. "Are you alright?" You gave him a smile and an assuring nod. He placed his hand on your head and missed your hair a little. "Good pup."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst idia #idia x reader #vil shoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #divus crewel #divus crewel x reader #twst crowley #twst crowley x reader

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pinkkittysaw · 5 months

Text

pairing: mike schmidt x gn! reader

summary: you save the holiday with some chinese food

word count: 1,864

content: fluff, established relationship, reader is celebrating american thanksgiving, no use of y/n or gender specific pronouns. pure self indulgence due to the stress that the holidays give me

a/n: based off an hc i had where mike can’t roast a turkey to save his life. this was written, edited and posted all in the same day so PLEASE be kind 😔 i watched the fnaf movie twice in three days i think i have a problem. anyway ty josh hutcherson for ending my writing slump DJDJDJJD 🙏🏻🙏🏻

dividers by @/firefly-graphics

"Shit," Mike hissed through his teeth, hastily pulling out the very well-done turkey from the oven and placing it aside on the counter as a bloom of gray smoke erupted and filled the kitchen air.

A muffled "swear" is heard from the living room, a faint pout forming on the young girl's lips. Her bouncy brunette curls are tossed from side to side as she peels her eyes away from the Thanksgiving parade on TV to peer over her shoulder and chastise her older brother for his "transgressions".

"Sorry," he grumbles, pulling out a dollar and sliding it into the lid of the makeshift swear jar Abby had made. The money will end up back in his wallet at the end of the week anyway, so he offers no pushback against the girl.

More smoking from the oven ensues, flooding the kitchen and living room in an ashen veil. It's only a few seconds later that the grating beep beep beep of the fire alarm begins to go off, the noise ringing all throughout their home.

"Too loud!" Abby yells, covering her ears with both hands as she bounds toward her bedroom to try and escape the noise.

When you roll up to Mike's house, pushing through his front door with both hands occupied by the plastic bags of processed carbs and fat you bought for the night, you're greeted to him bouncing up and down on a dining room chair, one of his ears tucked into his shoulder as an attempt to spare his eardrums from the blaring sound as he wildly reaches for the smoke alarm stuck to the ceiling.

You're quick to place the bags down on the kitchen table, doing your best to avoid inhaling too much of the smoke. With the oven already turned off, you rush over to the windows, opening them up, and grabbing a discarded shirt that was left on the couch to air out the two rooms as best as you can.

You smile up at him, and after a few more attempts, he successfully snatches the alarm from its place on the ceiling, unceremoniously pulling out the batteries as he hops down from his elevated position, then tosses both the alarm and its components onto the counter, alongside his multiple failed side dishes.

"Hey," he finally greets and exhales, letting go of the breath he was holding while he wipes his brow, small droplets of perspiration accumulating on his forehead from the impromptu workout session.

It was clear that he was having quite the day. With Abby having the better part of the week off from school and Mike wanting to prepare all of Thanksgiving dinner himself, to say he was a little stressed would be an understatement.

"Hey," you respond back, grinning as he runs his fingers through the dark curls that sit atop his head, similar to those of his younger sister.

You peer over his shoulder at the mess of dishes and other burned food before making eye contact with him once again, nudging your head toward the bags still on the table.

"Got the Chinese food."

A look of relief washes through his face as he makes his way over toward you, cupping both cheeks in his palms and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"You're a lifesaver," he mumbles into your hairline.

A giggle worms its way from between your lips when you state, "Always am."

It's not like Mike was a bad cook, per se. You've witnessed him cooking for Abby on multiple occasions, even sometimes for yourself as an apology on nights he came home later than expected, but to say he was a good cook was also a bit of a stretch, at least when it comes to meals made solely from scratch.

His specialties were breakfast foods and simple meals, ones that don't require more than five steps, like tomato soup, mac n cheese, frozen pizza, grilled cheese, and so on and so forth, with his best dish being spaghetti and meatballs. Though you were determined to sit him down and go through the step-by-step recipe for your homemade meat sauce so that he wouldn't have to keep buying the store-bought crap.

Regardless, when discussions of Thanksgiving plans arose, Mike suggested getting Chinese as an absolute last resort. So you were prepared when you eventually received the phone call from him earlier on that day "to resort to Plan B" as his "cooking endeavors kept going from bad to worse."

You could tell he was anxious about the whole thing. It was your first Thanksgiving together as a couple after having been Abby's sitter for a few years. He wanted it to be perfect. He and his sister never had much time or drive to celebrate the holiday as "families should", (his words), due to his work and money situation. It just didn't make sense for him to prepare a huge feast for the two of them and put more than a minimal amount of effort into cooking when most of the food would end up in the fridge for weeks on end. Uneaten due to texture changes after the food had been cooled, refrigerated, and then eventually warmed up again.

Ever since, their tradition has been Chinese food, something they both enjoyed and could get delivered if need be.

You reassured Mike over the phone earlier that morning, while twirling the spiral cord of your landline around your finger, that it didn't matter what type of food you ate, whether it was roasted turkey and mashed potatoes or crab rangoons and fried rice, it was about being together.

Abby peeked out of her room a few minutes later as you and Mike set the table, laying out three paper plates and setting the various dishes in the middle of them. The young girl is quick to crash into you, pulling you into a bruising hug—a bruising hug that a ten-year-old girl can manage.

"Hey Rugrat," you chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Got your favorite."

"Really?" she beams, bouncing on her heels slightly as she peers up at you with big eyes.

You kneel down til she's at eye level with you and whisper in her ear. "Don't tell your brother, but I got an extra order of crab rangoons just for you." She tries to stifle a giggle at the shared secret between you two, barely able to contain her excitement as you rise to your full height once more, sending her off with a wink and a tap on the back to wash up before dinner, taking note of the extravagance of her cute little outfit as she bounces down the hall to the bathroom. She was always the little fashionista, as you frequently compliment her on her choice of color blocking, but it's only when setting up the table for dinner that you notice that both Abby and Mike are dressed up as well.

He's sporting one of his "nicer" sweaters. It's a deep maroon color, one that's most likely been stashed away and hidden in the back of his closet for occasions such as this. The sweater is coupled with a pair of his least faded jeans.

Despite the earlier frazzles, Mike looks good, all things considered. He appears significantly less tired; his umber eyes are bright and attentive, the dark circles are subdued. Even his hair was styled, his curls set in a distinct pattern rather than ruffled and combed through with his fingers five minutes before walking out the door to go to work. It was cute how much effort he was putting in to make this holiday special for the three of you. Something that you wouldn't let go unnoticed.

While Abby is taking her time washing her hands, you round the table to where Mike stands, cup his cheeks, and pull him in for a sickly sweet kiss. His lips are chapped, but only slightly, due to your insistent scolding of him for never using enough lip balm.

His eyes are slightly glazed over when you pull away.

"You look handsome," you tease, giving a light pinch to his cheek as he continues to gaze upon you with a lovesick look.

"Don't you start," he smirks, removing your hand from his face and placing it back by your side.

"What?" You feign innocence, shrugging your shoulders while raising your palms in defense.

"I can't compliment my own boyfriend now?"

"You know what you're doing," he chuckles, shaking his head from side to side as he pulls down three cups from the kitchen cabinet, filling each with the soda you bought alongside the food.

You're about to retort when Abby makes an appearance in the dining area once more, eagerly sitting down at the table in anticipation while Mike finishes with the drinks.

You sit down beside her and admire the cute Thanksgiving decorations that are plastered all over the fridge. Various multi-colored feathered turkeys, along with a multitude of autumn plants and vegetables, are hung amongst her other drawings with random letter magnets.

You had become a big feature in her regular artwork alongside her brother. The pictures often depict the three of you together, with her in the middle and you n Mike on either side of her. You always took the chance to marvel at her artwork whenever you could, always commenting to Mike that he's got a talented little artist on his hands whenever she was within earshot.

You're amazed at how quickly the three of you became a little family, a welcomed addition to the two of them despite your worries early on about how Abby would react to you having a different role in her and her brother's lives outside of being her sitter.

Although it wasn't verbalized as articulately as she would've liked, she was glad that her brother had someone to look out for and care about him as he did for her. It also helped that you were way more fun than he was.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Mike plops down in his seat across from the two of you.

"Still can't believe you don't like egg rolls," he mutters, motioning in the direction of his sister before taking a huge bite of the eggroll in his hand, leaving a satisfying crunch in his wake as his teeth sink into the fried food.

"And I can't believe you have such bad taste," she sticks her tongue out at him playfully as he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"She's still young, Mikey. Her palette still has time to develop."

"Mikey?" Abby quips, quirking a brow toward her brother.

"Eat your food or you get no dessert." His skin turns a slight tinge of pink as the blush crawls up his neck and blooms over his face, clearly embarrassed at the discovery of his petname.

Abby gives you a knowing look, and the rest of dinner is spent trying to muffle your giggles and snickers. Despite the laughter being at his expense, Mike wouldn't have it any other way. The mess in the kitchen would be cleaned up later; right now, he just wants to cherish the moment.

#mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x gn!reader #five night’s at freddy’s x reader #five night’s at freddy’s imagine #fnaf x reader #fnaf imagine #x reader fluff #fluff #✰ミ angel writes

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sapphic-gardn · 8 months

Text

Willow | joel miller x f!reader | pt. 1

part 2

Summary: When you arrived in Jackson at the age of eighteen, you found a place to rest your mind and live comfortably while keeping to yourself. Five years later, Tommy Miller’s brother arrives and finds a way to get right under your skin.

(no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, enemies to lovers type beat)

Warnings (18+ mdni): mentions of loss/grief, swearing, age gap (reader is 23 Joel is in his 50s), angst, mutual pining kinda?, no physical description of reader, will specify with each chapter

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: Hi guys! This is the first part to my first ever Joel Miller fic. AHHH!! I’m so nervous but I am also really excited. I have planned this out for awhile and I just hope it manifests into something you all can enjoy. This first part is short but it’s kind of a prologue so you get a feel of Joel and reader’s dynamic. Let me know what you think <3 I’m shaking in my boots as I’m posting this

(The title is based off of Taylor Swift’s song Willow. I was listening to it while I wrote this. I just adore her sm)

credit to @cafekitsune for the cutie divider <3

Your cheeks stung as the bitter breeze swept across the dense forest just outside of Jackson. You tugged your heavy coat a little tighter to your chest as your horse trotted over the rough terrain.

“‘S that alright with ya?” Your patrol partner’s voice reeled you back in from your daze.

“Sorry, uh, what did you say, Tommy?” He let out a dry chuckle and you noted his look of amusement before directing your gaze ahead of you once again.

“I’m gonna be helpin’ Maria out with the baby for a few weeks. Gonna have you patrollin’ with Joel for awhile. Alright with you?” Tommy repeated himself with a huff.

Your eyes went wide and you snapped your head to the right where Tommy swayed on his horse and looked back at you with slight desperation.

“Joel?” You cleared your throat and quickly averted your eyes to the trail ahead, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

No no no. That is not fine. Joel? Joel fucking Miller who you have a big fat embarrassing crush on? Joel Miller who is old enough to be your father? The man who only speaks in grunts and groans? Please, let this be some twisted fucking dream.

Tommy sighed in relief, “I’m glad to hear it. Listen, I know you two are barely acquainted—haven’t said more ‘n two words to each other—but he’s good. He won’t give ya a hard time.”

A feeling of unease settled in your gut as you prepared yourself for humiliation on your next patrol with Joel fucking Miller.

Your life before Jackson was not glorious in any way. The bouts of starvation and taking shelter in abandoned homes had you convinced you were going to die alone sooner rather than later. That is, until Maria found you. Doe eyed and shrunken into a fetal position in a dark corner of a crumbling cabin.

It was surreal when you first arrived five years ago. Barely eighteen, grieving the loss of your parents, taking in the settlement before you. Life in Jackson was so peaceful despite the chaos that surrounded its walls.

Maria carved out a place for you in the community. She placed you in a little cottage a few houses down from her and Tommy. You were assigned to different jobs around the commune before discovering your strong suit was gardening. It was beyond anything you could’ve hoped for—a home.

You mostly kept to yourself. Everybody was so kind and welcoming but with the state of the world and the recent loss of your parents, it was easier to create a barrier. Your trust was sparse and only extended as far as Tommy and Maria. There was always something missing, though. Someone missing. And then, Joel Miller showed up five years later.

When you first met Joel, it was through Tommy’s efforts. You had been in the garden, harvesting vegetables when Tommy called out your name, “I want ya to meet my brother, Joel, he’ll be livin’ right next door to you. Thought it’d be best to introduce y’all.”

When you turned around, your breath hitched at the sight of him. Tousled gray hair framing his stoic expression complimented with deep brown eyes that looked right through you.

Joel grumbled something that sounded like a greeting, ignoring your outstretched hand in front of him.

“A man of few words, I guess.” You let out a humorless chuckle and placed your hand on your hip. Joel just walked away in response to your commentary. Asshole.

“Don’t take it personal. He’s like that with everyone.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “Alright, I’ll let ya get back to it, then. See you tomorrow at the stables. Patrol at 7 a.m. sharp, miss.” You nodded in affirmative and waved him goodbye.

The rest of the day was spent distracted by thoughts of Joel occupying your brain. What was his problem? Why didn’t he say anything to you? Did he always wear that scowl on his face? That damned gorgeous face.

The following month you had successfully dodged Joel like the plague. Sure, you wanted to see him but avoiding another interaction with him was a top priority. And you were happy with that. You could yearn from a distance—or so you thought.

You were tossing and turning in your bed unable to slow your heart rate. In the morning, you were to meet Joel at the stables for patrol. Fuck. The anticipation was unbearable. How would you act around him? No one has ever gotten to you like he has. What if you say something stupid? What if he doesn’t say anything at all?

You don’t know what time it was when you finally got some shut eye but you were awoken from your sleep by the sound of pounding on your front door. You looked at your watch and cursed under your breath. You shuffled to your front door, too blanketed in sleep to care that you had on a tank top that left barely anything to the imagination.

“I ain’t waiting all damn day!” You heard the gruff voice call out from the other side of the door before you swung it open. You were confronted with none other than Joel Miller. He took in your appearance and his look of anger momentarily turned into a look of bashfulness. Joel cleared his throat and looked down at his worn boots.

“Aren’t you just sunshine? Look, I’m sorry. I slept like shit and didn’t wake up to my alarm. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.” You were rattled but didn’t let your expression show it.

Before you could retreat, Joel spoke up once more, “Five minutes ‘s all I’m givin’ ya. Hurry it up, little girl.” With that, you slammed the door in his face.

You swear that was the fastest you’d ever gotten ready in your life. Before leaving, you gave yourself a once over in the bathroom mirror—you looked far from pristine but at least your breath smelled fresh and your jeans fit just right.

As you stepped out the door, you eluded eye contact with Joel. And with a grunt, you both descended your front steps to walk to the stables.

The walk was silent for the first few minutes until you decided to speak up, “I’m not a little girl, y’know. Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” Sure, you were young, but he had no idea what you were capable of. Anger and embarrassment started bubbling up in your throat.

Joel just chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at you. It bothered you that he didn’t say anything back, but you just pushed it aside and started walking ahead of him. You had quite the mouth on you and it stirred something inside of Joel. You were a willing opponent fighting to put him in his place.

At the stables, you and Joel barely exchanged words, all of which consisted of double checking supplies and grumbles of confirmation before heading out.

Once both of you made it about a mile out of the gates, Joel began thinking of what to say to you. He was content with silence, he liked his solitude—but when it came to you, curiosity got the best of him.

“So—“ Joel started but you were quick to cut him off.

“Don’t have to say anything to me. Next few weeks’ll be painless if you keep to yourself and I do the same.” You kept your eyes ahead as you spoke. If you looked at him, your cold facade would simply melt under his gaze.

Joel didn’t try to rebuke. He figured it was best to keep you at arms length. A woman like you was nothing but trouble for an old man like him. But how he craved to know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours.

a/n: I hope you like it so far! I am working on the next part already. Let me know your thoughts :) love you -Jen 🤓

Taglist: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @alejaa-a @cool-iguana @littleshadow17 @planet-marz1 @alyhull

#joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller apologist #jenispunk #joel miller x female reader #joel miller the last of us

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lovekz · 17 days

Text

gentleman

syn - ran haitani is a gentleman. sometimes.

cw - indirect insults, ran is a jerk (some point), chubby reader, ran and reader aren't a couple; fwb kinda, not proofread, you get it

ran is a gentleman.

he is, he just has to be.

he was raised in two houses, with two mothers. one jerk of a father.

he and his younger brother rindou, have two different mothers, but the same jerk of a father.

they were the only two important women in their life, the reason they do what they do.

these two women, taught them what love is. how they should treat the woman they'll love, and eventually marry.

how to not be like their father, and dump two boys into their hands and a hush paycheck.

so why?

why in the world would he clear his throat, stand tall, and dare himself to say that to you?

"ran, lets go out tonight." you beam at him, turning over in his comfy bed and playing with his hair.

ran gives you a lazy gaze, flipping over to face you and pressing a large hand on your cheek.

he doesn't respond, staring into your eyes as you hold onto his arm.

"was thinking. you know, we haven't been out in a while. rindou recommended this pasta place, and it looks really good." you explain, holding up the phone to his face

ran looks at the place, and then back at you.

you aren't sure what his silence is supposed to mean, but you continue.

"plus, it'll be a good excuse to dress up and look pretty. you know?" you falter a bit, putting your phone down.

"haven't you gained enough weight in the past few days? you want to eat out again?" ran says, before his brain can process it.

you stop breathing, and your heart practically stops beating against your ribcage.

ran has never spoken to you like that, you've never heard him speak the way he did.

"trust me. this'll put so much more weight on you, and either of us won't like it." ran says again, and he doesn't know what's going on.

shut up, he thinks, looking at you begin to screw up your face.

where did it come from? he hasn't a clue.

you sit up from your position and kick your feet off the bed, rubbing your face in frustration.

"wait- i didn't-" "you could've just said you wanted to stay in." you spit, breath hitching as you gather your clothes.

you get dressed quickly and leave, promptly blocking his number.

ever since, ran hasn't heard from you, but he's definitely seen your posts on instagram.

pictures of you and your friends, having girls nights and brunches and what not and-

has your ass gotten fatter?!

ran groans in frustration, throwing his phone down on his stomach.

"between you and milly, i don't know who's worse." rindou walks in the living room, holding his six month old in his hands.

ran sighs, sitting up and taking her from his grasp to rest her on his chest.

rindou takes a seat on the recliner, and leans his head back.

"i don't know what to do rin. her ass is fatter!" ran complains, patting milly's back soothingly.

his younger brother gives him a old look, before sitting up a little bit.

"just apologize. i don't know, you showed up to my house, scared my wife off, and keep crying over her. what'd you do?" rindou questions, laying on his side to get your attention.

ran sighs, giving milly a glance. she coos at him, stretching her little arms while she yawns.

"might've pointed out her biggest insecurity." ran grumbles, embarrassed to even admit it.

"you called her fat?!" rindou whisper yells, taking note of his daughter finally falling asleep.

ran adjusts the little girl in his hands, and sighs quietly.

"i didn't say it directly." ran explains, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest on the back of the couch.

rindou groans, covering his face and shaking his head in embarrassment for his brother.

"i don't know what to do. i can't lose her." ran says, opening his eyes once more.

rindou drops his hands into his lap, and flinches at the loud sound it made when it collided with the meat on his thighs.

the sound makes ran flinch as well, and the little girl in his arms jolt awake and begin sobbing once more.

rindou sighs, standing up from the seat and rubbing his eyes.

it's one in the morning, and he can't stand this anymore.

"okay. time for a walk." rindou says, stretching his limbs.

the two brothers walk with tamila for a while, up until they reach their childhood home.

the light in the foyer is on, and so is the light in the kitchen.

ran is the one who takes the first step onto the patio, and rings the bell 7 annoying times.

the door swings open, and rindou's birth mother stands there with an irritated face.

she's dressed up, holding her heel in her hand.

when she notices it's ran, she beams and holds her hands out to embrace him.

"ran! what are you doing out so late?" she questions, pulling him into the home.

it still smells the same, like rosemary and something sweet.

he remembers going to school and having everyone smell how good he smelt all the time.

"hey ma." rindou greets, pulling the stroller into the house with a short smile.

a bit more stumbling, and in comes ran's birth mother, dressed up as well.

"aww look at you two all grown!" she giggles, pulling them both into a big hug as rindou's birth mother closes the door.

they hug for a bit, before dragging them into the living room to fawn over the (finally) sleeping baby.

"what brings you two in so late? and why do you look like you haven't slept?" ran's birth mother questions, sitting next to ran.

"mom, i f- messed up. really bad." he complains, looking at her with upset eyes.

she gets comfortable in her seat and swings one leg over the other, looking at him.

rindou's mother follows, letting her son rest.

"what happened? oh you see rico, i told you that dream i had meant something." rindou's birth mother points out, fixing her hair.

"whatever kali, fill us in come on!" ran's birth mother said, tapping ran to get his attention.

so ran begins to tell them about you.

how you met at rindou's work party as both plus ones, how you got to know each other at rindou's baby shower, and how he took you out on dates when he'd get his pay check.

he doesn't fail to begin to mention how great the sex was, since he forgot he was talking to his moms.

all down to what he had said to you the last night he sent you.

his mothers listen intently, sharing looks instead of giving him the feedback he hoped for.

when he finishes, he takes a breath and looks at the two women.

they share one last look, before rico (ran's birth mother) takes a deep sigh and slaps ran across the face.

before he can say anything in response, kali gives him yet another slap on his other cheek.

"you fucked up. bad. but you can fix it. you know where she lives?" rico says, looking at her boy.

he nods, and kali sits up in her spot. "get her right boy. you might wanna grovel at her feet if she's actually the way she is." kali yawns, planting a kiss on his temple.

and that's what ran fears.

it's seven in the morning, and you're laying in bed, skimming through the many different reels on instagram.

for some reason, you can't find anything funny.

you sigh, flipping over onto your back and staring up at the ceiling.

there wasn't anything for you to do today. all your girlfriends had gone back to work and you gave yourself the day off.

you hear the front door open, and a pair of keys swinging around.

oh no.

you scramble out of bed and tug on a pair of sweats, storming your way downstairs.

"get out." you say immediately, glaring at- a bunch of bags?

gucci, dolce and gabbanna, edible arrangements, ihop, the bakery not too far, foot locker, marc jacobs, and so much more.

they are all laid out on the floor in front of the culprit, ran haitani.

before you can say anything, he gets on his knees and presses his head onto the floor.

"fuck i don't deserve you baby. i'm so sorry." ran says a bit loud, his hair touching the floor along with him.

"m' a piece of shit and i shouldn't have said that to you. you're so fucking gorgeous and i don't know what i was thinking when that came out of my mouth." ran explains.

you stare down at him, and then glance at all the bags.

"where.. did you get all this from? how?" you question, folding your arms over your chest.

ran sits up and points to everything, explaining how his mothers made him drive all over to get all this for you.

he then points to the bag of money, fixing his hair, and looking directly at you.

"then this is your rent, for the next two months. my whole paycheck." ran says, standing to his full height.

you stare at him, before taking a seat.

"you told your.. mothers? about me?" you question quietly, holding your hand out to him.

he takes it and nods, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it multiple times.

"they think you're wonderful. slapped the shit out of me when i told them what i did." ran chuckles, rubbing his cheek.

you roll your eyes, before letting him help you out of your seat and pulling you closer to him.

"i love you, alright? i can't stop thinking about you and i know i don't deserve you, but fuck do i want you." ran whispers, looking into your eyes.

you lean into him and wrap your arms around him, giving him a smile.

"then have me." you whisper back, just inches away from his lips.

it's safe to say the big breakfast and edible arrangements were forgotten within seconds.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x you #ran haitani #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers rindou #tokyo revengers ran #tokyo rev x reader #ran x reader #long hair ran

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g-xix · 8 months

Text

Sidemen NSFW Alphabet | JJ Olatunji

Girl don't get in debt offering your life out for smut 😭😭. That being said I have just put my mortgage on the line for the Lionesses against Spain, and we did in fact lose. Devastating news. Cheer myself up w a JJ pic tho:

THAT'S THAT FINE MF I BE WRITING FOR 📢📢📢 Alr, enjoy the alphabet tho n suggest who's next xox (link to Harry's NSFW alphabet)

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A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) Both of you are so blissed out afterwards that he can't even think about getting up to do anything. I feel like his style of aftercare is just spending time together afterwards. Once that horny-brain mindset has worn off he's back to just adoring you and sticks to you like un-floured dough on your fingers- hugging you 'round the waist, cuddling and watching movies, pressing little kisses against your face and telling you how much he loves you...

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) He absolutely loves his cock. Yeah, fat surprise that one. Loves his cock just out of pride for what it can do and the effects it has on you. And despite saying he's an ass guy, I feel like he's lowkey a tits guy. Or he loves them both equally. Either way- seeing either of them is always a massive turn on. Loves seeing your ass in leggings and always needs to whack it and run when he sees you bent over- but equally also loves just resting a hand on a titty when you two are just sat down cuddling.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) I think he literally loves seeing his cum on you or in you. Something about it is so weirdly hot for him. I think me most likes finishing in your mouth though- literally asking for you to stick your mouth open afterwards so he can see it on your tongue, before swallowing. Something about that feels so weird in hindsight as he gets his post-nut clarity, but in the moment it feels too hot not to do.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) One time whilst doing missionary he spotted a sort of protrusion in your stomach which caused him to stop for a moment in pure surprise, having never seen that in his life. Pulled out slightly so that he could examine it more, but noticed that as he pulled away it disappeared. Thrusting back in, it reappeared- and placing his hand over your stomach, he realised that it was his cock inside you that he was seeing- the tip pressing against your inside and causing that little bump. Something about that turned him on so much that now every time you do missionary he keeps one hand on that bottom bit of your stomach, unbelievably turned on at the feeling of his dick through your tummy each time he thrusted.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) I think he's made it quite clear he knows what he's doing, and I believe every word he's said about it. He knows exactly what to do and probably knows the ins and outs of your body by heart- all the places that'll have you moaning so loud the neighbours are sick of hearing JJ's name.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Probably missionary just because of how the two of you have slowly adapted it to make it the best. Pillow under your ass so that he hits all the positions you need him in, he can wrap his hand around your neck to choke you how you always like it, and best for him, he gets to see your face and tits each time he thrusts...

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) I think your minds are too horny-filled to think about cracking a joke. All of that comes after the deed, when the two of you are spending quality time cuddling.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) There's hair there but it doesn't matter. He keeps it clean + grooms it so that it doesn't become overgrown

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Fuck intimacy. He likes being able to make eye contact and speak to you, suree... But it isn't like he's trying to make it romantic. Fuck. That. This man is trying to get as rough, sexy and passionate as it gets. All the romantic loving comes in the aftercare- whilst doing the deed- he isn't focussed on being romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) As much as the two of you like sex with one another, you also appreciate that sometimes j jacking off is the vibe. Thing is, JJ never wears earphones when he's watching something on his laptop with lotion in his hand- so if you're in the next room- you're hearing exactly what he's hearing.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Lowkey loves choking. He's generally more dominant and he loves just wrapping a hand around your throat whilst in missionary- gently squeezing the sides, looking down and seeing you with your hands wrapped around his own- almost begging him to apply more pressure. Something about it is just so sensual to him and always turns him on more

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Literally has zero shame. He likes doing it in the bedroom, sure, but something it just so hot about the thought of doing it somewhere he know the two of you shouldn't. The first time he'd had you bent over the kitchen worktop of the new apartment, he realised he wanted to do that shit in every position, in every possible place in the apartment. And it doesn't stop in the apartment. Wherever he could, he would do it with you. The car, hotels, hot tubs- sometimes you wondered whether he was a bit of an exhibitionist.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) It isn't hard for him to get turned on. But generally, it's just seeing you in even a slightly suggestive position, and his mind starts wondering. His motivation is thinking "Hey, we've never had sex here", and suddenly he's got you bent over the kitchen worktable with his head between your thighs.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs) Pretty down to experiment, but wouldn't try anything properly weird like scat or piss. Would assume that was a joke if it was ever even mentioned, because there's no way he'd do that

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Doesn't mind giving head, but receiving it is a completely different type of pleasure for him. I'd imagine he would say on Sidecast "My girlfriend gives the most MINDBLOWING HEAD", which makes everyone on set crack up, but JJ wouldn't be joking at all. This man has his hands clenched on the bedsheet or on the back of your head, unbelievably blissed out which your head wrapped around his cock. Isn't generally very loud or makes many noises whilst fucking- but whilst getting head, he's virtually shouting his moans.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Depends on the mood, but I think fast and rough is the way to go. As said- aftercare is when JJ loves being all soft, but whilst doing the deed I reckon it's a completely different ball game

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) I reckon he loves them. Loves anything to do with sex, and something like a quickie that adds a bit of risk, he's all up for. Plus he always gets kinda turned on seeing you in work attire, and so he always tries to sneak in a quickie before you have to leave for work

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) I think something about risks actually turns him on. Doing it somewhere he knows he shouldn't is like an achievement and he wants to do it everywhere he can. Would he take a risk like going no condom and relying on the pullout game, though? HELL NO. He may be stupid sometimes but he isn't stupid enough to take risks that harmful to the two of you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He's really physically fit, so I'm tempted to say that he could go multiple rounds. Plus oftentimes, he's so blissed out and turned on at the same time that even after he's cum he wants to go another round just because he's THAT horny for it

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Sidemen literally BUY this man toys on videos. OF COURSE HE USES THEM. Often times just tries them once to see how they are, but has kept a few just based on how good they are. Probably finds you after using it and explains whether it's shit or whether "I don't think I've ever felt such convincing silicon in my lie"

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) I think he'd love teasing. Little bit of making you wait it out, having you beg- he knows it only makes it even better when he finally gives it to you- and he uses that to make the both of your orgasms just that much better

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Probably some low noises like groaning. I think he's deffo one to talk during sex, and I think he leans more towards degrading than praising. He used to praise more, but you admitted you kinda liked degrading and wanted to try it... Initially he was really bad because he didn't know how to say anything that was degrading but not genuinely mean- but once he started getting into it, the two of you REALLY started getting into it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Has probably tried roleplay before. One Halloween the two of you dressed together in a couples or a matching outfit, and whilst clearing a few years later, you found them again. One thing led to another and you agreed to try roleplay in them. I think JJ would've taken roleplaying seriously because he was actually turned on by the idea, but you couldn't stop breaking character and laughing because it was too much for you. Ended up just taking off the outfits and having sex without roleplaying, even though JJ discovered a new kink that day

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes) Probably big. Around seven to eight inches, average width. He's been CONSISTENT in calling himself a grower not a shower and icl i think I believe it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) So mf high. Literally, he'll just be doing something and then the thought of sex crosses his mind and suddenly- BAM- he's got a hard-on and is coming to you. Doesn't help the fact he's so attracted to you that he can't see you do anything remotely sexual without his mind wandering.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Doesn't fall asleep afterwards, probs in a good mood afterwards. Can go and get on with his day if it's a pre-work quickie, or if it's post-work, then he'll just spend time with you- cuddling and spoiling you with his love

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Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

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bonefall · 5 months

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the whole thing with the author defending (?) tom the wife beater is so repulsive, and then you read it again and i don’t think bumble is mentioned ONCE. she scrounges for sympathy with turtle tail, but the other one? the fat, useless, other one? forget her! (this is negative towards the authors, i adore the better bones stuff, esp how bumble is treated. vote bumble :) )

I really cannot get over it... to angrily write out a whole screed on how the strongest punishment is regret and not consequence, compare the sentiment of a reader that "Tom didn't deserve heaven" to his physical abuse of Turtle Tail, and then not even mention his other crimes of kidnapping and torture.

Even in death, Bumble isn't important enough to mention. As the books continue, they even continue to only mention her death as an unfortunate accident, or evidence of why kittypets can't join Clans. Even though she was MURDERED.

I think the statement is a good exercise in the difference between a post advocating rehabilitative justice, and abuse apologia just dressed up as it.

There IS a point to be made about how the idea of a Hell/Prison just makes bad people worse. We often have a desire to punish, because we FEEL better getting catharsis seeing A Bad Guy suffer like they hurt others. But that alone doesn't really fix or address a problem.

For example, it's really common to feel that kind of revulsion at a drug addict who robs a convenience store for money. Does it actually reduce addiction rates, or undo the trauma of the assaulted cashier, or help prevent it from ever happening again to throw the robber in a broken prison where they come out, 7 years later, with no rehabilitation?

The answer is no. It didn't help anyone. 7 years pass and he's still addicted to substances, possibly even worse, because prison just made his life shittier. As a leftist we can recognize that compassion is usually the answer.

(Unless, of course... someone needs to be removed from a position of power or actively prevented from attacking others. Violence is the answer sometimes.)

But the thing is, the author didn't SAY that. What they did was compare the impulse for catharsis, to TOM'S DESIRE TO BEAT HIS WIFE.

NO, those are NOT the same thing. Your desire for comeuppance towards a wifebeater character getting a redemption reward for "saving his child" after a long life of cruelty without consequences, is NOT THE SAME as Tom the Wifebeater inflicting pain and suffering on people out of spite.

She had to phrase it in the worst possible way for this argument to even LOOK like it made sense. "She broke HIS rule of Don't Be Mean To Tom" vs "He broke YOUR rule of Don't Be Mean To Turtle Tail." And "Now he's being taught how to be lovely"

Physical abuse, emotional abuse, and kidnapping are not "being mean" and it's both sick and insightful that she'd call it that

Domestic abuse is not a "failure to be lovely," it's the act of harming your family or partner to control them.

Tom the Wifebeater is a character who was not written with a scrap of nuance. He is not a real person. All they did with him was consistently show how much pleasure hurting people gives him, then say him dying for his biokid absolved everything

So in this series where you establish there are Born Evil Truly Malicious people (ONE EYE IS IN THE SAME BOOK), but then turn around to cry that Tom the Wifebeater can be made lovely off-screen...

You end up saying that domestic abuse isn't in your arbitrary "evil" category.

And that's so fucking fitting for the arc of Clear Sky's "redemption," where the same book ends off on Thunder saying that his abusive, woman-killing dad wasn't so bad all along because he's not like One Eye.

The answer's just that simple. They don't think male abuse is all that terrible because it's the same as an impulse; explicitly not malice. So it doesn't make you "evil," and only "evil" people deserve the Dark Forest.

(Dont question the Dark Forest as a concept or how starclan defines evil though :x dont worry about it :x)

#Anyway thank u it is my honorbound duty to give all the women a kiss on the head in BB #Bone babble #I should go back and tag these as Tom Authorial Statement or something

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belliesandburps · 4 months

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Demonic Burp-Off (Sadao & Urushihara burping fic)

Well, it's been a good hot minute since I posted up any kink fics on tumblr. And since I just finished this reward fic on patreon, I thought I'd post it up here, because who doesn't love some gassy demonic part-timers? ;)

“BWRRROOOooooouuuurrrrp!!!!!!”

A monstrous belch bellowed loudly and forcefully from within the Demon Lord's one-bedroom “”Castle.”” When it ended, Sadao sighed boorishly and slumped back on the ground, shamelessly patting his very bloated belly in relief.

“Whew! Ohhh man, I'm stuffed...” Sadao moaned, running his hand up and down his glutted gut. The young demon lord was in his usual home-attire; a t-shirt and his boxers, but due to just how much he'd packed away, his shirt was riding up almost just below his chest, completely showing off the near-entirety of his soft, bulging belly.

“Sire, if I may? You've been eating quite a bit lately,” Ashiya mused like a nervous spouse, eyeing his companion and masters overstuffed middle.

“Dude, the fridge is full t'bursting, SOMEONE has to clear it out,” Sadao insisted whilst massaging his hefty, burbling midsection contently.

“Tch, it's not the only one full to bursting though,” Urushihara muttered in his usual bored brand of snark as he browsed the computer and took a sip of soda.

As if to punctuate that point, a thick gurgle bellowed deep from Sadao's belly, making him wince for a moment before another large, rumbling burp erupted heavily from past his lips. “Oof, no argument there...” Sadao grunted as he palmed the side of his belly, causing it to jiggle quite visibly with the impact.

Something Ashiya most definitely noticed, along with Sadao's new curves...

“Sire, it might behoove you to at least pace yourself so you don't eat everything all at once, wouldn't you say? What if your current...erm...'expansion' were to compromise your position at work?”

Sadao just rolled his eyes, making Ashiya frown and turn to Urushihara, who was downing even more soda.

“Urushihara, would you make yourself useful and help me out here, please?”

“Ugh...suck...” the young, purple-haired demon remarked as he rubbed his stomach from under his shirt, ignoring Ashiya's ask. “Too much soda...” he mumbled before he lurched with a long, throaty belch of his own. It completely silenced Ashiya and left the youngest demon smacking his lips contently.

“Whoa, not bad, dude!” Sadao mused in amusement, making Ashiya scowl.

“Sire, PLEASE don't encourage Urushihara's bad behavior,” Ashiya insisted, adding, “his table manners are appalling as is.”

“Tch, what the crap??” Urushihara whined back defensively. “If you're gonna nag at somebody, nag at HIM, you kiss-ass. He's the one who's been burping his fat ass off all day.”

“Whadduya expect? I ate a ton!” Sadao said in a slightly less defensive tone than the younger demon, who opened his mouth to say something before Sadao added, “And if you say I WEIGH a ton too, I'll slam your head through that computer screen, you punk.”

Urushihara paused, then closed his mouth and turned back to his computer. “Whatever...” he said before downing more soda. Like clockwork, another big, brassy burp blasted out of Urushihara's mouth; rather impressive, given how petite and skinny he was. He shamelessly smacked his lips and sighed briskly, earning a snicker from Sadao and a groan of annoyance from Ashiya.

Sadao, meanwhile, huffed as he leaned back and tugged his boxers down ever so slightly, showing off a bit of his hips and more of his bulging underbelly, letting it breathe more. “Oof...man, I really did overdo it today, huh...” Sadao mumbled as he slowly ran his hands up and down his swollen stomach.

Ashiya watched his young lord massage his ample beachball of a belly and frowned with concern. “You're not feeling ill, are you, sire?”

Sadao shook his head and said, “Nah, just-” before he could finish, his cheeks puffed out, and a moment later, he threw his head with another huge burp. It blasted out of him so hard that it made his belly physically jostle from the force of the pressure erupting out of him. He grunted and palmed his chest, knocking loose a thick afterburp. “...Oof...maybe a lil gassy though...”

“I imagine that's to be expected with an excessive influx of grease and additives burbling within your digestive sys-”

-Aaaand of course, poor Ashiya couldn't even finish his boring thought, an even bigger burp bellowed from Urushihara, who moaned in a deeply satisfied manner afterward.

“Ohhhh man, that felt good...” he moaned out, rubbing his flat belly as he did.

“It might feel even better to not to constantly CHUG the sodas down like they're going to magically disappear if you don't drink them down all at once,” Ashiya groused in annoyance with Urushihara's outburst, who literally couldn't care less if his demonic life depended on it.

But Sadao, on the other hand, had a different idea, judging from the rather impish grin spreading over his lips.

“Heh, not bad, dude. But let's see ya top THIS,” Sadao insisted as he grabbed the weighty mass in his middle and jiggled it up and down. Ashiya could practically hear all that digesting junk food in Sadao's belly sloshing around heartily.

Though, it was hard to hear much at all after that since all that jostling eventually rustled loose a gas bubble that rushed violently up Sadao's throat. The burp that Sadao let echo throughout his tiny apartment was positively gigantic.

Sadao huffed, then gripped his bulging belly tightly with one hand and leaned forward with another deep, raunchy belch, followed by a much smaller one; that monstrous pocket gave way to residual pockets of gas rolling out of Sadao one after the other. When it finally ended, Sadao sighed heavily, tongue hanging out of his maw like a panting dog as he said, “WHEW! Heh, that one was brewin' for a good while, man, damn...” He gave his belly a couple of hearty pats of satisfaction, causing the soft, round organ to jiggle with each pat he gave it.

Ashiya rang his ear out and frowned. “Your majesty, honestly-”

“-Tch, I could beat that in my sleep,” Urushihara insisted, much to Ashiya's dismay; any hope of these two acting less boorish quickly being dashed away.

The purple-haired boy grabbed another can of soda, popped the top, and immediately started guzzling it down. His slender throat throbbed in and out as he gave one rather audible gulp after another. Urushihara was chugging so intensely that he clenched his eyes shut while his tiny nostrils flared up.

As he chugged, he rubbed his flat stomach up and down; a sliver of his pale flesh peaking from the bottom of his t-shirt. His flat middle was bowing out just ever so slightly, likely from downing two sodas so fast. Amazingly, Urushihara managed to chug the whole thing in one go, though given the fact that the young demon could literally swallow people whole, it wasn't exactly surprising that he'd have a strong gag reflex.

Urushihara crushed the can in his hand as he swallowed the last of the soda in his mouth with one especially hearty gulp, causing a sizable lump to travel down his throat and vanish behind his pronounced collarbone. The demon boy huffed heavily, then grabbed his belly firmly with one hand and threw his head back as an utterly deafening belch exploded past his rippling lips. All that air and carbonation came blasting forth with such power that Urushihara could practically feel the reverberation ratting his bones. Both Sadao and Ashiya could feel the ground itself vibrate a little with that one.

It was only a few seconds long, but the sheer volume was unmatched by anything either demon had let loose up to that point.

Sadao's jaw gaped as that insanely brassy eructation finally rumbled to a finish. “...Okay, that was actually pretty damn good...”

Urushihara groaned in an exerted manner as he rubbed his throat and mumbled, “Ugh, that one hurt...” before putting a hand to his chest and letting loose a long, throaty afterburp. Catching his breath, he smirked back at Sadao and said, “And that's why I'm the champ. Don't quit your day job, dude,” before turning his back on the two elder demons and going back to his computer. “...No, but seriously, don't quit 'cuz no one else makes money...”

At that, Ashiya's gaze hardened.

“The sheer disrespect...!”

Sadao shrugged dismissively and said, “Nah, there's no way in hell I could ever top tha-AAAUH?!?” But Sadao's dismissal became a cry of confusion when Ashiya was suddenly perched right before him and grabbing his bare, bulging belly. “D-Dude! What the hell're you-”

“-Crude and repulsive or not, for ANY lesser demon to act superior to the demon lord in ANY capacity is utterly unacceptable!” Ashiya declared before holding the sides of Sadao's big belly with both hands and heaving it up and down. The glutted lightly tanned ball of flesh jiggled and sloshed heavily as all that digesting slurry within the organ swished around within. The action was so confusing that even Urushihara had to turn and look at the commotion.

Sadao winced rather uncomfortably from all the jostling. “D-Dude, cut it out! You're making me nauseeEOOOOUUUrrrph!!!!” His protests were cut short by a wet burp that cut him off mid-sentence and left him covering his mouth.

“Yeaaaah, you realize you're gonna make him puke if you keep doing that, right? And I am NOT cleaning that up...”

“The Demon Lord's strength of will won't allow him to be so easily bested, you little wretch!” Ashiya declared before turning to an increasingly nauseous Sadao. “Sire, whatever you do, hold it in! Do not eruct until the time is right,” Ashiya insisted as he continued forcefully shaking Sadao's belly.

The young raven-haired devil lurched, going a bit green in the proverbial gils as his bouncing gut began gurgling and burbling rather intensely. His abused stomach churned so violently that it sounded like a witch's cauldron over a roaring flame. Sadao wanted to burp so badly, but he was worried that if he did at this point, a lot more than gas would come rushing up...

Of course, with Ashiya jiggling his belly so relentlessly, a lot more might just come back up anyway...

Eventually, however, there was a thick, telltale gurgle, indicating that the time was nigh...

*GWWWWUUUUUUOOOOOOOORRRGLE!!!!!*

Sadao's round belly bubbled so aggressively that it jostled in Ashiya's grasp. The eldest demon grinned said, “This is it, sire! Get ready!”

Poor Sadao almost whimpered, knowing what was coming next.

And before he could properly brace himself, Ashiya SHOVED his hands right against the dead center of Sadao's hefty belly. His palms sank into Sadao's soft, weighty flesh.

Sadao's eyes bugged out of his skull as he felt an intense volume of pressure quickly rushing up from his chest and quickly rushing up his throat.

His cheeks puffed out like balloons, and before he even had a chance to stop it, the gates of hell were wide open...

And out exploded a beastly eructation unlike any other...

“BWWRRRRRUUUUUUOOOOHHH-HHOOOORRRRRRRROOOOOOORRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUPH!!!!!!!!!”

The entire apartment rumbled aggressively as Sadao released a tremor-inducing BELCH of record-shattering magnitude. That wasn't hyperbole either; debris and dust actually crumbled from the ceiling and corners of the apartment as Sadao burped harder and louder than he'd ever burped in his centuries-long (young for a demon) life. Ashiya pushed his palms deeper into Sadao's belly, prolonging that tonsil-destroying eruption for a staggering ten, uninterrupted seconds straight, only getting louder the longer all that gas blasted out from his rippling lips, along with several strands of saliva.

When it finally...mercifully rumbled to a sharp close, Sadao was utterly dazed and winded. Going cross-eyed, the bloated boy just toppled onto his back. His fat belly wobbling heavily over him as he laid there like an immensely bloated ragdoll.

Both Ashiya and Urushihara stared at their downed demon lord in silence for a few moments, before a wide grin spread over Ashiya's face.

“AHA! Excellent work, my liege! You completely trounced that little brat and reminded him why you're the strongest demon in all the land! Well played! Disgusting...but well played!” Ashiya exclaimed, eagerly patting Sadao's jiggly belly in congratulations.

“You're not wrong about the 'disgusting' part,” Urushihara muttered, crinkling his little nose as he fanned the air around him. “...Also, I'm pretty sure you just killed him.”

Ashiya scoffed before glancing back at Sadao, who, again, was just laying there in a motionless, lifeless daze.

Experimentally, Ashiya pushed on Sadao's belly...

“UUUUrrrOOOOOrrrP!”

As the push forced out one last heavy burp from Sadao, Ashiya grinned.

“See? He's fine!”

Finally, Sadao managed to speak up.

“...N-Next time the fridge is fuuUuorp...guh...f-full...I'm okay with us just tossing it out instead...”

#sadao #urushihara #belly kink #burping #overstuffed #soda chugging #flat stomach #burping contest #post stuffing #fat belly #weight gain #belly play #belly sloshing #gassy #comedy #oh yeah join my patreon if you'd like your own reward fics #you didn't think i'd post patreon content without shilling didja?#i am the one who shills

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kastlequill · 7 months

Text

knock, knock

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader word count: 1.4k summary: when an unstoppable force meets a movable object tags: whumptober, first meetings, bank robbery, rescue, hurt/comfort, fluff if you squint, civilian!reader, miguel is a dork, no y/n warnings: none ao3: read here

Work was awful; always was, always would be. But today differed in its awfulness.

Usually, work sucked because of power-tripping bosses, incompetent coworkers, and asshole customers. As a banker, you had grown accustomed to dealing with not-so-nice folks who were eager to withdraw funds or deposit a fat check. Today, however, went to shit for an entirely new set of reasons.

A blaster dug deeper into the small of your back. “Do you know where the vault is or not, lady?”

Robbing a bank. How original.

“Yes, I—” God, what could you even say? It wasn’t as if the nutjob would see reason. “I have the code. If you ease up a bit on the gun, I can open it for you. No one has to get hurt here.”

The few silent moments of deliberation filled you with unease. There was no telling how triggerhappy this guy was, nor how impulsive.

“Don’t even think about playing any games. I’ll vaporize you faster than you can scream for help,” he snarled directly into your ear, the fabric of his ski mask brushing against skin. The press of the blaster disappeared, and you exhaled in relief. “Lead the way.”

And so you did.

You were in no position to play hero, not when he could pull the trigger in a split second, and certainly not when your pay was barely above the minimum wage. Dying for a job that didn’t even care to provide you with a livable salary would fucking suck.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to.

As you started to direct the intruder to the back of the building, adrenaline mounting and mind racing, a blur of red and blue suddenly cut across the room. With its speed came a gust of wind that ruffled your hair and drew your full attention toward the flurry of motion. At the center of the chaos stood a man who you’d only ever seen on the news, whether as a still photo printed in the papers or as a shaky video on TV filmed by some random passerby.

Spider-Man. Easily beating the absolute shit out of the guy who had threatened you mere moments ago.

While they were both distracted, you tiptoed back to the front counter, crawled into the space between your chair and the desk setup, then pushed the emergency button that dispatched law enforcement. But you knew help wouldn’t arrive for at least another fifteen minutes.

The joys of living in Nueva York.

From where you hid, it was possible to glean a fragmented view of the fight, criminal versus vigilante. The latter threw the former around as if he were merely a ragdoll, and the sheer ease with which the hero did so reminded you of a cat pawing at a helpless mouse, wanting to have a little fun before the ultimate kill. They exchanged words as well as punches, but your hearing didn’t extend so far as to hear the specifics of their no doubt hostile, undiplomatic conversation.

Commotion raged on; pained groans accompanied by the subsequent splintering wood as the robber’s body crashed into another desk, followed by resonant thuds as unnaturally-powerful fists rained down on him. Spider-Man held little back and had no qualms delivering a violent retribution.

Not that you had any, either.

Finally, after what seemed to be an endless brawl—if such a one-sided beating could even qualify as a brawl—there was silence at last. Complete and utter silence. No heavy breathing from exertion, no agonized howls, no groveling for mercy.

Just quiet. The type of quiet that settled over a desolate city post-natural disaster, that permeated the air in a bloodied warzone post-surrender.

Until a throat cleared from somewhere above. “You in there?”

When you glanced up, the face that greeted you wasn’t by definition a face, but rather a mask. Red lines framed where eyes laid hidden, and the expression into which the markings configured told of slight concern. The outline of his hulking figure was illuminated by the flickering of a broken light, occasionally revealing to you a skeletonized spider emblem on his torso.

You found yourself wanting to absorb every little detail, every pattern and design, because you didn’t think it statistically probable that you would see him again. If the universe was feeling benevolent, then these kinds of events would happen only once in a lifetime. Prior to today, you’d not had the pleasure of crossing paths with Death, nor had you the good fortune of being in the vicinity of one of the most wanted men in the city.

A great deal had changed since this morning, however. And, to be quite frank, you were ready for the world to return to normal, eager for tomorrow to begin and end without misery or mayhem—

His knuckles rapped the counter overhead. “Knock, knock.”

What the hell. Was this guy for real? He didn’t give you the impression of being the funny type, but neither did he seem the kind of guy to participate in idle chatter.

“Who’s there?” you replied, curious yet cautious.

“A little old lady.”

“A little old lady who?”

“Bank telling and yodeling? Talk about being talented,” he remarked with a low whistle of admiration.

At the cheesy punchline, you crawled out from your hiding spot, stood, and stretched a bit to assuage the ache that had settled in your muscles as a result of crouching for too long. You dusted off your knees once much of the tension had dissipated then fixed him with an unwavering stare, raising an unimpressed brow.

“I’ve got one more for you.” Spider-Man put his hands on his waist and lifted his chin. While true that his features were obscured, you’d bet his eyes had become narrowed and intent, determined to evoke your laughter. “Knock, knock.”

Fine, I’ll bite. “Who’s there?”

“Police.”

“Police who?”

“Police hurry up, I need to take my lunch break.”

Lunch break.

You hadn’t had the chance to go on yours, too preoccupied trying to survive being held at gunpoint. Mortifyingly, this realization caused a salty wet trail to travel the length of your cheek, then another, and then a choked sob bubbled forth against your will.

The hero cursed something you couldn’t quite catch under his breath and sheepishly rubbed a hand down his masked face. Clearly, comforting crying civilians didn’t come naturally to him the way combat did. Although, in his defense, few had the energy to navigate a hysterical woman’s emotions after just starting (and finishing) a fight.

“I didn’t mean. . . The jokes are stupid, I know—”

“—no, it’s not that.” You waved off the unwarranted apology and attempted to put a lid on the accumulated stress that had decided to manifest in the form of frustrated tears. “I just realized I didn’t even get to eat lunch, is all. I always clock out at 12:30, but that asshole threw everything off with his shitty robbery attempt, so now it’s 1:07, and we’re only allowed thirty minutes, and I still haven’t had any food today besides a soggy bagel this morning, and I’m so fucking tired, and he pulled a blaster on me—”

The rant quickly devolved into hurried gasps for air, your chest heaving, your lungs not fully functional. How embarrassing to be rendered to a state of hyperventilation, especially since an infamous vigilante was around to witness your crumbling composure.

“Deep breaths,” Spider-Man murmured, pulling you by the shoulders toward him, your nose connecting with his sternum. To you, such was an act of humanity free from ulterior motives; this hug was the simple conclusion to everything that had transpired. A solace. “That’s it, just breathe when I breathe.”

Easier said than done, but you could appreciate the sentiment all the same. Some minutes later, your lungs had begun to expand and contract at a regulated pace, heeding his own rhythm.

“You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Safe. Was it safety, then, that caused this warm fuzziness to bloom in your chest?

You couldn’t recall when you’d last felt this comforted by another’s presence, when you’d last been this at peace in a world overrun with strife and conflict. There was no telling how long you stayed wrapped up in his steady embrace, your respirations synced. The very passage of time seemed to halt, the two of you frozen in this singular moment.

Only when the wailing of sirens began to draw nearer did he remove himself from you and vacate the premises, swinging from one building to the next, further and further away.

Only when he left your line of sight did you finally shut your eyes, preparing yourself to be questioned by the approaching news anchors and police officers.

fin.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman x reader #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #marvel #whumptober #my fic #fic: knock knock

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