#and if you're the kind of person who sits down to eat a meal at a restaurant 30 minutes before close

[imiren-kul]

Hey, if it's late at night and you want to order take out and the place you want to order from closes in twenty minutes and your first reaction is "oh boy they're still open I'm still able to order food from there!", I just want you to know that nobody in that store likes you. I had to go on a delivery tonight like three minutes before we closed. We closed at 1230 tonight. It is not imperative you receive your deluxe pizza with chocolate brownie and 2 liter Dr pepper literally 10 minutes after we close. Wait until tomorrow jfc.

[dragonsholygrail]

Dinner is served

Pairing: Minotaur husband x fem!reader — oral (f! receiving), horn stimulation, cum eating, aftercare

You always figured yourself to be a traditional person. You know, you wanted the husband, the house, the white picket fence. The whole nine yards.

You had also always gone for the traditional man. Big muscles, tough and strong, a protector and a provider. It was the type you always tended to gravitate toward.

Your ex had been that kind of person. The kind of man who expected dinner and a stiff drink waiting for him as soon as he got home. For a while you enjoyed it, taking care of someone. But eventually you realized that while you took care of him, he never took care of you.

Now you still prefer a nice traditional guy. Your new husband is just as traditional, preferring dinner to be ready and waiting as soon as he comes home.

Only now the meal is you.

Minotaur husband comes to walking into your shared home, hooves booming against the wood floors due to his size. He lifts his nose and breathes in a long whiff. A heavenly mixture of your scent and his comes rolling into his nose and he shudders.

Walking into the dining room he's disgruntled to find you not where he expected you to be. With his impatience simmering he calls out your name.

"Why isn't dinner on the table?" He adds, his voice rising in order for you to hear him, wherever you were off too. You come prancing in a moment later, the dress you're wearing providing him easy access.

"Sorry! It was a nightmare getting this thing on," you tease, falling into their waiting arms and rising onto your toes for a kiss. Your husband responds immediately with a fierce determination to consume you. His claws squeezing at your soft hips and pulling your small body into his ginormous stature. You shiver at the way he so easily surrounds you. How he could so easily crush you yet you've never felt safer than when you're in his arms. A smirk plays on his lips as you two break away.

"Well, get on up there," he says through gritted teeth in attempts to hide how eager he is to devour his meal. His hand slides down, giving your ass an appreciative slap. A small yelp leaves you as you fall to your feet.

Tossing him a scolding look, you head deeper into the dining room. Hopping up on the table and reclining. You watch your husband walk past you, his gaze very much intent on one thing. As he sits down at the head of the table, your legs automatically widen for him, resulting in a gruff snort of praise.

With his claws digging gently into your thighs, your husband dives right in, his long thick tongue splitting your folds open with ease. You cry out, gripping the table as he feasts on your cunt. His slobbering tongue lapping up your essence before delving deeply in your walls.

A short gasp of pleasure breaks through you and your hands shoot out, gripping the base of your husband's horns. Your Minotaur husband moans, hips jolting, and causing his bulge to nudge the underside of the table. You tighten your hold on his horns, shrieking as the table rattles below you.

"That's it. Hold on tight," your husband growls against your pussy, sending vibrations through your clit. You whimper loudly as he continues his feast with a feral vigor, tongue fucking you that he's been counting down the minutes till he could get between your legs. And you're sure he was.

His broad tongue reaches deep inside you, caressing your g-spot with every thrust. Your moans rise in frequency, another ripping out of you with every swipe of his tongue that consumes you.

Before you know it you're gushing on his tongue, using your grip on his horns to burry him in your pussy so you can grind on his face. Your husband grunts out his pleasure, making sure to swallow every bit of your release and lick up every drop he might've missed.

You shake against the table, your high still moving through you in waves. But your hands slide down to cup his dampened cheeks as he raises his head to look at you, gaze still sparking with lust.

His hands massage as your legs in attempts to calm the tremors. He looks over your weakened state and knows he should wait. Besides, he can't fuck you on a dining room table again. This is the tenth one he's bought in three months, the salespeople practically know him by name at this point.

"How about I start on the rest of dinner while you calm down, love?" He asks, the rumble in his voice filled to the brim with restrained need. He goes to stand up when he sees your pouting face.

"Take me with you?" You ask gently, your voice croaking slightly. Your husband's heart melts and there's no way he can deny you. Not that he'd ever decide to spend time away from you anyway when given the choice.

He scoops up your pliant body in his arms with ease. Your weight absolutely nothing to a man of his size. He keeps you huddled against the short fur of his body as he heads into the kitchen where he'll cook you both dinner as you sit all pretty on the counter. Only helping when you want.

[iidrk3i]

☆ ACTIONS OVER WORDS

hq -- tsukishima kei x gn!reader

summary: tsukishima kei doesn't know how to say he's sorry. so instead, he tries apologizing in a different way.

warnings: a bittt angsty but fluff in the end, brief food mentions, tsukki calls reader overbearing, nothing too much :)

word count: 768

there he was, sitting on the couch with his head lolled on the headrest. what had started as a small disagreement between the two of you became a heated argument, which resulted in tsukishima calling you overbearing.

in your defense, you were just reminding your boyfriend to eat his meals everyday. this was the third time this week that you had reminded him, but something about today really ticked him off.

after tsukishima had gotten the last word in, he caught a glimpse of your face before you headed off into your shared bedroom. it was clear that you were upset with him, and you had every right to be. you weren't being overbearing at all. you were just being the kind person that he fell in love with. the person who looked out for everyone that they loved.

tsukishima looked at his phone. 6:43pm. he’s been sitting on the couch for a good 15 minutes trying to think of something to say to you. he wanted to say something sincere, something that would be genuine, but no matter how hard he thought, no matter how long he sat and waited for something to come to him, nothing was coming to mind.

that’s when tsukishima thought of a different tactic.

he had gone online and searched up your favorite take out place, ordering something for the both of you. once the food had arrived, tsukishima finally built up the courage to knock on the bedroom door. when he was met with silence, his hand hovered over the doorknob for a second, ultimately coming to the decision to walk in.

“oi y/n, i- uh.. i ordered takeout for us, if you're hungry," tsukishima stammered, feeling the weight of his words from earlier still heavy on his shoulders. he hesitated for a moment, unsure if you would even want to see him.

inside the dimly lit bedroom, you were seated on the edge of the bed, your back turned towards him. you had been replaying the argument in your mind, questioning whether you were indeed being too pushy. your thoughts were interrupted by his voice, and despite feeling hurt, you couldn't deny the rumbling in your stomach at the mention of food.

you turned slightly to look at him, noticing the takeout bags in his hands. the gesture made your heart melt. tsukishima cleared his throat nervously, taking a small step closer. "i... i know i was out of line earlier. you were just looking out for me," he began, his voice low. "i appreciate that, really. i'm sorry for calling you overbearing."

you remained silent, your gaze fixed on the floor as you processed his words. tsukishima shifted uncomfortably at the doorframe. "can we... can we talk about this?" he asked tentatively, taking another small step forward. "or at least, can we eat together?"

you glanced up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. despite the hurt feelings, you knew that tsukishima wasn't one to apologize easily. the fact that he had ordered your favorite food showed that he was trying, in his own way, to make amends.

finally, you nodded silently, gesturing towards the bed. tsukishima exhaled quietly in relief, setting the takeout containers down on the bedside table before joining you. for a while, neither of you spoke as you ate, the quietness was comfortable.

after a few minutes, tsukishima broke the silence cautiously. "i mean it, y/n. i shouldn't have said those things. i know you care about me, and i... i care about you too." his voice was hesitant, but genuine.

you looked at him then, meeting his gaze. "i know," you replied softly, your tone was enough for tsukishima to know you were forgiving him. "i just... sometimes i worry, you know?"

he nodded, his expression serious. "i get that. and i promise i'll try to be more mindful. you deserve that."

with those words, all the tension leaves the air. the conversation flowed more easily from there, the both of you gradually finding common ground and understanding. by the time you finished eating, a sense of comfort hung in the air.

as tsukishima gathered up the empty containers, you reached out to touch his arm lightly. "thank you, kei,” you said sincerely, meeting his eyes once more. "for trying."

he smiled faintly, a hint of relief in his expression. "thank you for not giving up on me," he replied, his voice soft.

and with that, the evening unfolded into a quiet understanding between the two of you, strengthening the bond that had drawn you together in the first place.

a/n: this one’s a little messy😓

[a-s-ter]

"𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆"

— 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: If you don't want your butler to reach a breaking point and take matters into his own hands by 'disciplining' you, perhaps refrain from behaving like a spoiled brat next time.

— 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rough sex , unprotected sex , brat!reader , overstimulation , bttm male reader , blowjob , smacking , swearing , dirtytalk , praise , manhandling , dirty talk , age gap , virgin!reader , making out , degradation , petnames , non con , public sex.

PART 1 , PART 2

You sat at the long, luxurious dinner table while the maid nervously watched you eat the food prepared for you. As you took a bite, the maid grew anxious, eyes fixed on your every move. Moments later, a displeased expression crossed your face, and the maid seemed to brace herself for what was to come, as if she had expected it.

"blech!" you spat the meal you were eating. "This is disgusting! Make me another one!" you shouted, throwing the plate of food to the ground, shattering it into pieces. You glared at the maid, who nodded and hurriedly began picking up the broken fragments from the floor.

As the maid cleaned, your impatience mounted. "Move faster!" you demanded. Startled, she flinched, causing the shattered glass to prick her skin, blood seeping from the cuts.

You didn't care. The sight of her blood, her pain—none of it mattered to you. You were a just brat after all.

"Hurry up! I'm growing impatient, you vermin!" you scolded, your harsh words causing tears to well up in her eyes. She nodded quickly and, once done cleaning the mess, ran off to get your new food.

"He wants another dish." the maid announced to the weary chefs. It was the fourth meal you had dismissed.

"Again? What does that brat even like?!" one chef groaned, exasperated. "He's just toying with us. He enjoys seeing us suffer because he has all that power," another chef complained.

The butler, Kyzer, heard their conversation as he passed through the hallways. The chefs and maid flinched when he entered the kitchen. "S-Sir Kyzer!" bowed the maid.

"Oh, Kyzer, what brings you here?" a male chef inquired.

"Pardon me but I accidentally overheard one of your discussion regarding the unfortunate incident with the prince. It saddens me that the boy has, for the fourth time, squandered your hard-prepared meals. I intend to address this matter with him personally, in the hope of curbing this unacceptable behavior." Kyzer declared, his words resonating deeply with the maid and the chefs.

"Kyzer, we appreciate it, but you don't have to do that! We can handle him... I think?" another chef responded, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

"I must. I don't want your hard work and efforts to go to waste," Kyzer said firmly, his resolve clear.

"K-kyzer, you're so kind to us!" one of the chefs exclaimed, clearly moved by his actions. "I just don't understand why M/n can't be more like you—polite, kind, and well-mannered, instead of such a brat!"

"Well, he's been surrounded by abundance and luxury his whole life. His parents never taught him proper etiquette, so I suppose that's why he turned out that way," another chef remarked.

"Hm... Would you also like me to teach him a thing or two?" "

"Yes! That would be wonderful, Kyzer! Please change his behavior if you can," the chefs pleaded, bowing deeply in gratitude.

"I'll do my best. Now, if you'll excuse me," Kyzer said, bowing before leaving the kitchen. He walked purposefully through the grand hallways of the kingdom toward the dining room where you were waiting.

A few minutes later, Kyzer arrived and opened the large door to the dining room. There you were, sitting alone at the long table, surrounded by empty chairs, waiting impatiently for your food with an annoyed cute expression on your face.

You turned to look at him, his long white hair and piercing yellow eyes sending a chill down your spine. "Who are you? And where is that maid? Why is she taking so long? Ugh!" you grumbled, sounding like a spoiled child.

"My name is Kyzer, your highness," he introduced himself, bowing deeply with one hand on his chest and the other arm behind his back. "The maid is in the kitchen, and it takes time to prepare a new dish for you, your highness." he explained, maintaining his respectful bow.

"Then make them cook faster. I'm getting impatient here!" you demanded, scrutinizing Kyzer from head to toe.

"I'm afraid I cannot your highness. I'm here for other reasons," Kyzer replied, straightening up.

"What?! How dare a lowly butler like you defy my orders?!" you exclaimed, shocked by his refusal. "What even is your reason here?" you demanded, glaring at him.

"You."

"W-what?" you responded, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm here because of you, Your Highness," he said, his yellow eyes boring into yours.

You felt a twinge of nervousness under his intense glare, but you weren't one to back down. Crossing your arms defiantly, you retorted. "Me? What for? If it's something insignificant, you get out of my sight!"

"Oh, Your Highness, it's far from unimportant because it's about you."

"About me!? Just what are you trying to say?" you replied while staring at him with perplexity and fury.

He was starting to get on your nerves.

"It's about your behavior and manners, Your Highness. They need to change—"

You snapped, standing up abruptly and grabbing a wine glass. You threw it at him, but it missed and shattered against the wall instead.

"Don't try and give me lessons about behavior and manners, it won't work on me you imbecile!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the grand dining room. As you met his gaze, you flinched at the intensity of his icy glare fixed on you.

You were slowly getting on his nerves.

Somehow, you felt a twinge of regret for your actions, but what was done was done, and there was no turning back. "I'm giving you a chance. I'll let this slide for now!" you scoffed, striding towards him and 'accidentally' bumping his shoulder as you headed for the door. "Tell the maids to clean up the mess." you ordered, but he said nothing.

Weird.

Just as you were about to open the door, he grabbed you roughly by the hair, eliciting a pained sound from you. He threw you to the floor, and you landed hard on your backside, hissing in pain.

"What the fuck are you doing!? If my parents hear about this, your head will be cut off!" you yelled, staring up at him, though part of you wished you hadn't. Behind those intense yellow eyes, you sensed something ominous lurking. Something telling you that something bad was about to happen.

"This is your last chance."

"Change. Your. Behavior."

You chuckled, "And why should I?" you raised an eyebrow, smirking defiantly.

"People are suffering because of you. Your crude and mean comments, your filthy mouth—they need to be purified. And I know you didn't receive proper etiquette, so I'm willing to teach you." he explained.

"Purified!? fuck off! They deserve it. I don't care whether I hurt their feelings or not, they're lowlifes! They don't deserve to be treated the same way. And those chefs and maids? They're just servants, working for us. They're poor, probably came from the gutter, ew! They don't deserve special treatment like us royals!" you retorted venomously.

And then he finally snapped.

As he walked towards you, confusion clouded your expression. "What are you doing—" but your words were cut off as he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you onto the table. You struggled to pry his hands away, but he was too strong.

"Get your dirty hands off me!" you shouted at him, but he ignored your protests. With a swift motion, he threw you onto the table, and you cried out in surprise. Landing with a thud, you quickly placed both palms on the table, using it to support your weight.

As you tried to regain your composure. He forcefully stripped off your pants and underwear, leaving your lower body exposed. Your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment. "Stop! What are you doing with those filthy hands of yours!" you cried out, feeling utterly vulnerable and violated.

You found yourself facing away from him, your exposed backside vulnerable and humiliating. As you attempted to look back at him, he forcefully shoved your head to the ground with his hand, preventing any movement. Struggling to rise, you found yourself pinned in place, utterly helpless.

"S-stop this instant! Someone could walk in here at any moment, you idiot!" you pleaded desperately, but he only inched his face closer to your ear.

"Count." he whispered.

"W-what?"

Smack!

"Wah!" you gasped in surprise as the sharp stinging sensation of his hand striking your exposed ass jolted through you.

"I said, count." he repeated.

"H-how dare you tell me what to do—"

Smack!!

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he delivered a firmer blow to your backside, the sensation igniting a mixture of pain and arousal that pulsed through your body.

"If you don't count, Your Highness, it'll only get worse and harsher," he warned, caressing your slightly reddened ass. "So please do as I say." he urged, his voice soft yet commanding.

Smack!

"O-one," you stammered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Smack!

"T-two..."

Smack!

"T—..three." you breathed out, your face pressed down onto the table. Each smack sent a jolt of sensation through you, a mixture of pain and a strange, exhilarating—....pleasure?

He seemed to be truly enjoying your reactions, relishing in the cute gasps and flinches you let out. A smile spread across his lips as he gently paused the spanks, caressing your ass for a moment before resuming with renewed vigor.

Smack!

"f-four!"

As the spanking continued, it eventually came to a halt when you ceased to respond. Sensing your exhaustion, he removed his hand from atop your head, understanding that you had no energy left to fight. Your rear end was now red and throbbing, you had lost track of the count. With gentle care, he soothen your reddened cheeks, offering a moment of relief and comfort.

"How many was it, Your Highness?" His voice was tender as he sought to ground you in the moment.

"I... I don't know," you murmured weakly, your voice barely audible over the echo of pain.

"It's 26, Your Highness," he informed you, his fingers coaxing your face to meet his gaze. As you turned to look at him, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire. Your flushed cheeks, those endearing hiccups, those captivating eyes, those cute lips...

Fuck... Every aspect of you stirred an undeniable attraction within him, you were turning him on.

He gazed at your lips, inching his face closer to yours, slowly, deliberately. You tried to turn away, but he held your face firmly in place. He was so close, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, close enough to taste your plump lips...

Knock, knock!

The sound jarred him from the moment, a surge of frustration coursing through him. Damn it, he had forgotten they were at the dining table.

"Your Highness, your food is ready," the maid's voice came from outside the door.

"Now, if you cause another disturbance, you'll face another punishment. You don't want that, do you?" he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity.

"F-fuck you... L-let me go and get my pants! T-this is an order," you demanded weakly, still exhausted from the pain and the effort of keeping your screams contained so the maids wouldn't become suspicious and barge in.

Kyzer was going to follow your orders, but his eyes darted down to your shaft, which was standing up confidently. "Are you sure, Your Highness? You're quite... hard down there. You wouldn't want an uncomfortable erection, would you?" he taunted, his hand lowering from your ass to your shaft.

"N-no, it'll go down. Stop!" you stammered, but a moan escaped your lips as he touched you. "Look at this cute little cock, so pretty, just like its owner," Kyzer murmured, beginning to stroke you. You let out a loud moan and quickly covered your mouth.

"Your Highness, may I come in?" the maid called from outside, oblivious to what was happening inside the room. Kyzer continued to stroke you slowly, the deliberate pace heightening your frustration.

"H-hurry up!" you ordered, your voice strained with urgency.

"You want me to hurry? Then beg for it, Your Highness," he smirked, his hand engulfing your tiny lil sensitive cock.

You were embarrassed and humiliated at this point. You, a prince, begging for something? It infuriated you, but the thought of your reputation being ruined drove you to comply.

"P-please hurry up, please let—hng!...M-me cum." you begged, your teary eyes locking with his mischievous yellow ones. He licked his lips, clearly enjoying your submission.

"As you wish, Your Highness," he said, his pace quickening as he stroked you up and down, causing your back to arch off the table.

"Mmhp!?" you moaned, drool seeping from your mouth as you tried to stifle your sounds with your hand. He began to tease the tip of your cock with his index finger, swirling it clockwise.

"Your Highness, please let me hear those beautiful moans... Please let me hear how good I’m making you feel," he whispered. Lost in the pleasure, you obliged, moaning louder, no longer able to control yourself.

"That's it," he breathed, his lustful eyes fixed on your flushed face. Drool was seeping from your mouth, your cheeks were a deep shade of red, and your eyebrows were scrunched up in pure ecstasy. The sight of you like this almost made him cum in his pants. "That's a good boy." he grinned, his own arousal evident as he continued to bring you closer to the edge.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Your Highness?" Kyzer's voice dripped with seduction, his smile widening as he saw you lost in pleasure. "Fuck... You're so adorable when you're messed up." His face flushed as he leaned in, licking the tears streaming down your cheeks. The sensation made you shiver, and he grinned, quickening his pace.

"Nngh—!... Ahh! I-I'm gon' c-cum!!" you cried out, your body trembling as you threw your head back.

"Cum for me, Your Highness. Be a good boy and cum for me."

"A-ahh~!" Your cute little cock spurted, painting the marble floor with streaks of white as you panted heavily, sweat glistening on your skin.

"Well done, Your Highness. I'm very proud of you~♡" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I knew you could do it." He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Your Highness? Are you there?" the maid called from outside the door, her voice filled with concern.

"Let's get you dressed up, yeah?" Kyzer said softly, his voice a mix of amusement and authority. He retrieved your discarded clothing, his touch gentle but firm as he helped you back into your garments. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he adjusted your clothing with meticulous care.

You were still trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure making it difficult to stand. Kyzer's hands were steady, though, guiding you through each movement as he redressed you.

"Remember, Your Highness," he murmured, his lips close to your ear, "I will change your behavior. This is just the beginning." He smirked.

Once you were fully dressed, he took a step back, his eyes scanning you with satisfaction. "There you go, presentable as ever." He straightened his own attire, ensuring he looked impeccable before turning towards the door.

As he opened it, the maid stood waiting with your meal. "Your food, Your Highness," she said, bowing slightly.

Kyzer gave you one last meaningful glance, his eyes lingering on yours. "Enjoy your meal your highness." he said smoothly, before stepping aside to let the maid through.

[goldenstring6123]

Lnds: Them as human-dog hybrids!

Author's notes: A bit more of a niche HC~

Sylus as human-dog:

General Personality:

Aggressive and territorial both in human form and in animal form.

Usually prefers to be directly beside you at all times, sometimes positioning himself in between your legs if you're doing something that requires you to be idle.

Almost always in guard dog mode.

Comfortably switches from human form to animal form any time, anywhere.

In animal form, there's always a leash attached to his collar, in human form, he removes the leash but keeps the collar on. He likes it.

Wards of any other dogs that come in your way with a simple stare and a snarl. Other dogs shiver at the sight of him—even the more bigger ones.

if you get mad at him or scold him for being naughty, he'll ignore you which you will always let him get away with— but if he goes too far, he sleeps on the balcony.

You like grabbing his tail and muse yourself at seeing his super quick and funny reactions.

Dislikes

Dislikes play time with other dogs. When he's at the park, he sits under a tree and inspects the place as if he's a watchdog. If other animals pester him, he will bully them.

Dislikes being touched by other people even stepping a tad bit close will turn him aggressive.

Absolutely hates the vet; he's a menace to everyone except you; No vet would accept him; he likes only two specific doctors in Linkon city and both of them were old veteran women.

Likes

Likes bath time but likes giving you a hard time as well, when he's wet and lathered with soap, you will be too.

like's agressive play and you coddling him with belly rubs, back ear scratches. In the midst of play time he'll suddenly turn human and want your affection in another way.

Habits

At midnight, he leaves his very expensive and comfortable dog bed and sneaks into yours, come morning, you're face to face with his bare chest.

He doesn't let you off easily in the morning and even if he did, you still have to deal with his groggy ness.

He makes a mess when he sees that you cleaned your side of the bed when you wake up earlier than him and he just likes watching you clean it for the second time, ignoring your yapping and scolding.

A Major incident:

You once got mauled by another guard dog, unfortunately he wasn't there to protect you because you left him at home—stating it will just be a quick errand. when too long of a time has passed and you entered the house, the putrid scent of another dog had him barking loud. He sees you covered in scratches and bandages with blotches of red. He looses it and you can't calm him down no matter what kind of coaxing you do.

He turns human and catches you in your exhausted state, seeing the needle marks on your arm (from the vaccination), he was a bit relieved to see you got yourself patched up; He was still angry though. He helped you with the things you need to do and he puts you to bed, resting on the foot of your bed until he could hear you snooze.

At night, he hunts for that awful scent, searching high and low. The scent lead him to an abandoned shed in the forest where a stray and formerly detained human-dog hybrid resided. Needless to say there were trails of blood leading to the toilet and he was there trying to get the blood off by the time you wake up.

Zayne as human-dog:

General Personality:

A Medical service dog who is also the former chief cardio surgeon.

Often alert and active on duty when you are in your work mode.

A very intelligent dog, even if you aren't in any trouble, he'll bring your stuff like a pillow, a bottle of water, a bag of chips and so on.

He's very particular to the scent you give; although he can't describe it, he can smell your emotions and your physical condition.

He rarely barks at anything random and has a designated spot for doing his business. he is a low maintenance, well trained and polite dog.

Dislikes:

He dislikes any special cooked meals for him that has carrots in its ingredients. You can sneak in some when he eats in human form but when he's in his dog form, he can smell it no matter how well it's blended in the meat.

Also hates fast food, but likes the sugary sweet confections.

Likes:

In human form he likes reading, and rather than go to the dog park or the pet supply store, you bring him to a cafe or a bookstore.

From time to time, he likes being in human form for longer periods. and while he does, he likes to service you, helping you clean around the house, and perform check ups. If not doing anything, he's reading a book or watching a classic film.

He likes to keeps his bed in the same spot and only has specific areas in the house where he stays. Preferably in elevated areas like on the table or on the couch.

He likes to visit the park, but never really plays around. Small puppies are attracted to him but he only paws their heads before tending to his own business.

He takes it upon himself to go to the doggy parlor and the vet; sometimes he doesn't need you to accompany him. He takes pride in being well groomed; he takes it a step further by also taking good care of his human form. the downside is: it gets really really expensive.

A Major incident/s:

Rarely do you ever get mad at him except for times when you order fast food on your nights off. Before managing to take a bite of that double cheeseburger, he snatches it from you and lunges it around. Stepping on it. He hates fast food and he knows its not good for you.

As punishment you didn't let him join you for work for the next three days and he's left all alone in the house waiting for you to get home. He eagerly waits for you at the door and all you do is pet him before falling asleep on the couch.

Despite knowing you were mad at him and he was under punishment, he still drapes a blanket over you making sure you weren't cold. He sleeps at the foot of your couch and when he comes to, you were sleeping on the floor with him, cuddling and sharing the same blanket he draped over you during the night.

Xavier as human-dog:

General Personality:

An immortal police dog working with the Hunter's association.

Has a keen sense of smell and hearing as well as agility and speed.

In office down-times he naps— a lot, yet he never fails to perfect physical test. Somehow always in great shape both in dog form and human form.

When he has nothing to do, or there's too many dogs in the vicinity, escapes and sleeps in the flowerbed of the rooftop garden or ontop of a slate rock. In human form, he sleeps in a hammock behind the storage room which was conveniently placed by a former staff. (or so he says)

He will play dead on the floor if he's too lazy to walk so you have to carry him in his.

In your home, he's mostly in his human form. He still likes snacks but mostly likes to stick to you wherever you are. In the sofa? Sitting and resting on your lap. in the bedroom? At the foot of your bed. Toilet? He's outside the door. There's no alone time with him. Dislikes

He hates baths but likes being groomed. He's a very patient boy in the doggy parlor especially if they offer treats. Doesn't bite but will push himself into a corner or face the wall as if he's being punished.

People pet him a lot and he avoids it like a cat, sometimes play biting to tell people to go away. If people still manage to pet him, He'll make loud, whining noises and hide under your table.

Likes

He like's winning plushies in the arcade yet coats them in saliva so you can't exactly have that plushie to yourself. 3 days in and that plushie would turn into shreds because of his aggressive playing habits.

He loves treats, be it dog treats or pastries. Can hear a crinkle of treats inside your bag from 5 feet away. He'll be raising his paw at you once he manages to get your attention.

A Major incident:

You once got mad at him for slobbering and chewing up all over the paperwork on your table because you weren't able to pay attention to him during the busy office hours.

As punishment, you had to work overtime to accomplish and remake those files; all while ignoring him. Afterwards, when he thought you were done, you asked Nero to exchange patrol dogs for the time being.

Xavier was devastated and suddenly turned human, apologizing and saying that it wont happen again.

You ignored him and went home— him trailing after you just a few meters away. He doesn't enter your house when you get there and just guards your front door. When morning comes, he realizes that there was a blanket on him an a brand new plushie. Your door was purposely left ajar for him to enter.

Rafayel as human-dog:

General Personality:

A high maintenance fashion dog.

He's a runway pet, often working alongside clothing companies.

Though he is a human-dog hybrid, he's frequently in his human form to sign contracts and make negotiations.

He models both as a dog and as a human. He's very picky though, he only chooses the best of the best companies, ones that you would wear.

He has his own penthouse near the beach but people complain about him because he barks a lot, seemingly out of boredom. As a solution, he moves in with you!

He chooses your outfit for you, and digs out of your wardrobe every now and then, especially when he needs you to accompany him to a show or a party. Dislikes

He is more dramatic than you anticipated. If he dislikes the film or show he's watching and you were ignoring him, he would bark annoyingly, or whine a lot most likely rolling around and jumping on the bed to relieve his boredom.

He has problems with cats and can sense if one steps in within the perimeter of his residence.

In his dog form, he dislikes being in places or rooms with extreme temperature. be it super cold or too hot. Although he likes the summer, sometimes the heat is unbearable so he needs to cool off as soon as he goes out. Likes

He likes to make sure you look the best because you are a reflection of him; But he knows he looks better than you.

He keeps a few toys around and particularly likes the plushies, but above all he likes the to play around with the scrunchies you wear.

From time to time, he likes play dates with other dogs— his breed in particular is very quick to get along with other dogs regardless of species. He's quite fond of frolicking in the indoor dog parks of Linkon city.

Habits

He has his own bedroom in your apartment but you always wake up with him next to you either in his dog form or in his naked human form.

He needs full maintenance every few days, these involve brushing, nail grooming, ear cleaning and so on; It gets very expensive but he always pays for it. In human form he likes to pamper you as well by giving you massages, treating you to spas and salons.

He is a nightmare to deal with as a dog mainly because he sheds so fast; even if you cleaned the kitchen before cooking there will always be fur in your cutlery.

A Major incident:

You were always scolding him for his childishness but once in a while, it gets endearing except for that one specific day where he decides to chew on all your heels and shoes because you were going to meet up with the manager of that Chihuahua model.

Needless to say, yours shoes, including slippers, which you had to pay money for, were all ruined. Barefoot and all, you drove him over to his penthouse and left him there for a solid few days. No one complained of any noise because his neighbors were out of town.

He was angry at you for leaving him alone so he wanted to give you a piece of his mind, but when he arrive at your apartment, the first thing he sees were those chewed up shoes.

Feeling apologetic at the sight of your broken shoes in the trash bin, he gathered his connections and used some IOUs to be given some of the best and beautiful shoes in the industry. Needless to say you were quite surprised when there are a bunch of pr boxes blocking your door. That and Rafayel patiently waiting at the foyer of your apartment.

Author footnotes: Some of the text won't adhere to the format— Sorry about that! I'm still getting used to tumblr. Also, I wanna make a part two out of this. hehe~ Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[catcze]

Spoilers for Wriothesley's backstory !! References to leaks of his backstory !!

When Wriothesley was younger and homeless on the streets of Fontaine, an orphan who ran from his foster home to fend for himself, there was no one for him to rely on. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and putting your trust in the wrong person could result in lying facedown in a ditch, just another casualty of the city.

Wriothesley was prepared to fight for himself for the rest of his life. Was prepared to sleep with one eye open, and ready to get stabbed in the back at any second. Everyone around him wouldn't cast him a second glance and wouldn't offer him a shred of help.

No one, maybe, except for you.

You were around his age— that much was evident from the first day he met you, when you found him crouched in an alleyway half-starved and soaked through by the rain. You were kind, if the umbrella you covered his head with was any indication. You had gotten soaked yourself, but you still smiled at him and told him to keep it, that he needed it more.

And lastly: you were born into good, good money. He found that out the next day when you bought him a packaged meal of warm meats and bread. Although he was hesitant to accept your kindness, cautious of what price you would attach to such a thing, the grumbling of his stomach won out and he finished the whole meal in less than five minutes. It was one of the best things he had ever tasted.

You said nothing as you sat beside him, uncaring of how the dirt of the sidewalk stained your clothes. When he was finished, you offered him a bottle of water. As he chugged it down, you gave him your first name, and when he hesitated to tell you his, you smiled and shook your head.

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me," you told him with a slight smile. And that was that.

From then on, you find him every few days at the same spot. He doesn't talk much, you discover, but he's always willing to listen to you talk. Anything under the sun— your lessons, your absent parents, the droves of socialites who try to butter you up with hollow words and false admiration— you can ramble about it for hours and hours and he'll sit beside you, interjecting on occasion, but generally letting you take the lead in conversation.

Once, you brought him a canister filled with tea, and watched as his eyes lit up at his first taste.

"This is some really good stuff," he told you, awe in his voice, already going for a second sip. You smile, seeing him so pleased.

"I'll bring you more next time. I'll try to make a different brew, too, to see if you'd like that even more."

When he gets scuffed from street fights, you're there to patch him up. Clumsily at first, with a furrowed brow and tangled strips of bandages, but you get better and better at it over time. He doesn't reject the help, and you don't scold him for getting hurt. It is times like these where your hands —only calloused by the grip of a pen and nothing more, unlike his that are so scarred and rough— make you both remember how different your worlds are.

One day, you go to the place you two had been meeting for nearly a year now, and it's empty. That's not particularly unusual— it's happened once or twice before where your friend couldn't make it, so it's no cause for concern. You merely leave the food and water in a little nook he had shown you before, and make your way home, hoping that he's alright and not too banged up.

When you get home, the maids and the butler all tell you of a recent incident that happened not too far away in the city— of an assault and a mangled body, of the perpetrator on death's door himself, barely rushed to the hospital in time. While you have dinner alone, they urge you to exercise caution if you go out tomorrow.

So you take heed of their words, bringing a new platter of food and hide small knife in your pocket as you head back to the same place yesterday. The food and water from before is still there, hidden in the little nook only the two of you know of.

Anxiety grips you, but you try to shake it off. You return the next day. And the next. And the next. Each day, the food you leave remains untouched every time.

You fear the worst after a week is up— you fear for his safety, for his health. You fear for the only genuine friend you had ever made, who had seen you as more than just your parents' only child. You don't leave your room for a week, poring over the newspaper and anything else you can get your hands on. The househelp thinks you're ill— and you are. You're sick with worry, sick with the late nights spent up as you stretch yourself thin trying to find something, anything about him. But when your parents learn of your seclusion, you're forced to give up your search. In the end, you're the only one left to remember the nameless boy with the soft smile and a love for tea.

It is years and years down the line. Wriothesley had been doing well as the administrator of the fortress— so much so that he had been invited to the Palais Mermonia to receive the title of Duke. He had barely managed to sidestep a grand investiture ceremony, instead opting to sign, take the relevant certificates, and be done with it.

When he enters the office of the Iudex, he's met with the man himself and a surprisingly familiar face. One that he had never forgotten, even on days where the ground threatened to crumble underneath him and the walls of his prison cell felt like they were closing in.

Your eyes blow wide, your grip on the documents threatening to rip the papers, and he doesn't miss the slight wobble in your lip as you gaze at him.

"Good afternoon, I'm pleased that you could join us," says the Iudex. He sweeps one hand in your direction. "This is one of our top attorneys,assigned to assist with the processing of your documents and certificates."

Wriothesley smiles, wider than he has in a long, long time, and reaches a hand out for you to grasp.

"Hi," he says, never taking his eyes on your face. He squeezes your hand and feels you tremble in his hold. "My name is Wriothesley. It's nice to meet you."

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That—mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[inkskinned]

they don't see it, because it is around them like air. to them, it would have to be through movies, through magazines. they think it happens outside of life, like it must be selected to be interacted with.

but you discovered in the fifth grade that you couldn't wear shirts with words on them, it was an excuse for someone to look at your chest. you were catcalled before you were in middle school. sometimes you look at that memory and deny it - surely that can't be right, you were young. but you were in a skirt, so maybe that was a natural byproduct. it was a skirt from that place "justice by limited too" - a store literally for kids. it was popular around then. you wore that skirt twice and then never again.

you can't wear headphones, because what if a man wants to talk to you? there's a guy on the internet who complains that women shut themselves off from being approached. at night, you often keep the headphones positioned but with the sound off, just in case you need to hear something behind you.

you learned at 12 that you can't make eye contact, don't acknowledge the aggression. just walk faster and hope he picks on somebody else. don't wear your hair like that. do not park next to that kind of car, park an entire cityblock away if you must.

you can't go to the museum, you're sitting and tying your shoe when he approaches you and mentions that nobody understands art anymore. that in the whole world, it's just you-two. you have no recourse for eating a meal (it's rabbit food if it's salad, and someone will roll their eyes, eat a sandwich. it's pick-me behavior if it's a burger, we get it you're a cool girl). if you like mushrooms you are cottagecore, which is cheesy. if you like video games you're an egirl (similar to a pick-me). boys do not get categories, but if you point out the categories are sexist, you are told okay but these girls really exist.

it is somehow developing, a little undercurrent that you've been uncomfortable with. the nickname "karen" went from being "a white woman that uses her whiteness as a weapon, particularly against people of color," to now mean "any woman raising her voice or being even a little upset." the reappropriation of a term used specifically to call out white women for their racism has set your skin on edge. now it is just another version of "bitch," one that can be said on television. recently you saw a woman get called a karen because a drunk driver sideswiped her, and she screamed when it happened. the comments on the dashcam video all say "why do women always scream about everything." "when has the world ever been bettered by women screaming." "this fucking karen. she deserved to get hit."

in the sitcom, it's a joke that the wife is furious; slamming her hands down into the sink. i do everything around here, might as well do this too. in your house, your father is always in-his-office. before you know better, your first boyfriend is the type to say it's just easier for you. you used to beg him to take you on dates. he used to make a big deal about it, about the sacrifice of effort, even if you were the one who did most of the planning.

someone on the internet makes a "POV: the most boring person you've ever met" where he puts a towel on his head and just talks like a normal person. his impression of a boring woman is just a woman that is talking about her pretty-average life without exaggeration.

you are sometimes actually sad in the reverse, because actually you did used to struggle to pay attention in conversations. you were also easily bored of normal things, your adhd pinging off of every radio tower in the vacinity. it took time and therapy and patience, and now you delight in the small things about your friends. you like having them show you their organizational systems and talk about their taylor swift tickets. you are entertained by them because you learned to be, even though your brain is structured to only be excited by novelty. you kind of hate the idea that the reason your father will never actually pay attention to you is that you're no longer interesting. eventually the shine wore off, and you were just a person, not a spaceship. he never learned how to just, like, form an actual intimate friendship. it was always at a distance, this sense - emotional closeness was too much. (and yes. he's homophobic).

you're already tired of whatever the fuck is happening with the words "divine feminine", a rancid take that is basically just a rebranding of the patriarchy in action. what the fuck do they mean "being small and delicate and needing protection" is feminine. the words they are looking for are that they want a partner, not that their desire for equivalent support is relegated to gender. the human desire for community is not actually gendered at all. also, what fucking wolves are these "divine masculine" men even battling. fuckken taxes? shouldn't their "desire to protect" also mean "protect you from emotional neglect", or are all emotions off-limits (and how sad would that be. that's a horrible bar to set.)

and they tell you it's really not bad actually, because it's just there. they suggest you get off the internet or you stop reading that book or you stop thinking so hard about the movie or you stop just-being-a-feminist because honestly it's a killjoy sort of thing and then you tilt your head to the side and there's that little siren in the back of your head. if things were actually fine, being a feminist wouldn't put a stop to anything, it would go completely unnoticed, because you wouldn't have any comment to make about any of this

but you are ruining your own life, they tell you. also, girls don't sit like that. also, all girls are catty. also, all girls are bad drivers. also, all girls just need a cute bracelet and an iced coffee.

you do like iced coffee, is the thing. when you close your eyes, the world around you has this strange note to it. and once you hear it, it never stops ringing.

[ackermai07]

hi there !! i hope you're having a great day so far ^^

i wanted to request the three musketeers (katsuki, izuku, shoto) that give prince/ss treatment to reader ! like the reader is just so tooth-rotting sweet that the boys can't help but treat reader that way ฅʕ◍·̀·́◍ʔฅ

you are so free to ignore this if its not up to your taste ^^ thank you in advance !! 💌🍰

girl you're crazy if you think this isn't up to my taste, you literally blessed me with this! Anyways I hope you have fun reading, enjoy!

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: Todoroki, Bakugou, Midoriya, fem!reader

𝗪𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: headcanon, fluff!

Don't repost!

The one thing we all agree on.

He'll cook for you.

No one argues with this; he's literally your personal chef.

He'll always make sure you eat well, whether you're a big eater or not.

This damn guy will literally stuff your stomach and cook for you anytime.

You can wake him up even at 2 a.m., and he won't mind, like:

"Hey, Katsu... I'm feeling kinda hungry... so-"

"Shut up, I already know."

And boom, he'll get up to cook a delicious meal for you and make sure you go to sleep feeling full.

He also loves styling your hair, no matter the type.

Straight, wavy, curly, it doesn't matter.

Just tell him how you want your hair, and he'll do it professionally.

He does most of the chores for you, like cooking, washing dishes, doing laundry, etc.

He absolutely hates seeing you tired or exhausted; he sees himself strong enough to do everything.

"You weren't created for exhaustion, not even your beautiful ass deserves to be tired from sitting."

Another reason he always holds you in his arms when you're alone together.

He always brings snacks for you at school.

At the end of each class, he turns around to give you candy or chocolate to keep you energized.

(He completely refuses to admit he brought them for you, always saying he got them by chance.)

When you're sitting in the dorm with others, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder if you're tired.

He absolutely doesn't let you go downstairs; he always carries you bridal style while going down while you're in his arms.

His excuse is that you're too foolish and will definitely trip and fall and hurt yourself.

(He loves you dearly and worries about you like crazy.)

Did I mention he's your guard dog?

Wherever you are, he walks behind you and gives death glares to anyone who dares to stare at you.

He also makes sure every day that he's the first person to say good morning or goodnight to you, whether in person or through messages.

He's not a big person with words, but he makes sure to say "I love you" enough times because he knows it makes you happy.

Believe me, he's just there for your happiness (I would die for this man).

This boy is the epitome of sweetness.

He's not just a green flag, he's the whole forest.

One thing I'm sure of is that he'll take notes for you during classes.

Even if you've already taken your own notes, he doesn't mind.

He still brings your notebooks and edits your notes to make them look like his own.

If you ask him why he does this, he simply replies:

"Just to ensure our information is the same so we don't have any problems when we study together."

He just loves being the reason behind your intellectual growth and knowing that he's helping you.

Every night, literally every night, he braids your hair.

Because he simply read that braiding hair before bed helps keep it healthy.

(He loves touching your hair and smelling its scent.)

Speaking of nighttime, he takes you for walks at night when everyone else is asleep and lies on the grass to watch the sky just because you told him you love seeing the stars.

He's literally the kind of gentleman who lays his jacket over a puddle of water for you to walk on so you don't get wet.

He has a sixth sense about you, so for example, whenever something bad happens to you, he's already there to fix it.

He's 100% ready to defend you against anyone and doesn't feel embarrassed to stand up to them either.

He carries your bag for you on the way to school and back to the dorm, insisting on it even when you say it's okay.

He loves sharing his food with you; he always does.

No matter what it is, he always makes sure you take at least a bite of it.

"I don't taste the food's flavor until I share it with you."

He always keeps your hands intertwined and makes sure you're close to him, especially in crowds.

Every day, he makes sure to kiss you on the cheek and tell you how perfect you are, how lucky he is to have you, and how much he loves you.

This guy is literally like a character from books.

He has a top-notch degree in princess treatment.

He buys you anything you want, no matter what.

Even if it's a car plated with gold, he'll always fulfill your desires.

He flirts with you, but in poetic ways.

For example, he reads a love quote or a poem and makes sure to dedicate it to you.

Either he writes it for you on a paper and places it on your desk in your room before you wake up, or he whispers it in your ear just to drive you crazy.

He loves seeing you shy and flustered.

He also buys you books, a lot of them.

The reason for that is your talk about a story or a novel.

Be sure that by tomorrow he'll present you with the entire book series along with a red rose.

"Shoto! You didn't have to do that!"

"If my girl desires something, she gets it."

(Help me... I'm melting while writing this)

He lets you do anything to him literally.

Braiding his hair, putting makeup on him, dressing him up as you wish... etc.

Just say the word, and he's like, "Yes, ma'am"

(Once you put your daily makeup on him, and literally you cried because he looked more beautiful than you by miles.)

This man is literally carrying your bags when he takes you shopping.

And he doesn't complain; it gives him a sense that he's your strong man.

He also allows you to try makeup on the back of his hand.

(He's as pale as hell.)

He carries you on his back if you feel tired from walking.

Or in other words, if he feels it, which means he always carries you on his back.

So you won't tire from something as silly as walking.

He knows that everyone is looking at both of you, but does he care? Of course not.

(I feel like he's read "The Art of Indifference" at least 100 times.)

He's the kind of guy who allows you to wear anything you want.

You might come to him not sure about your clothes, and he simply shrugs in indifference.

"Wear whatever you want; I can fight."

(But not too revealing because you won't get away with it.)

One of his greatest features is that he uses his quirk to either warm you up or cool you down according to the weather.

He always gives you his jacket even without you asking because he knows that his scent calms you down and also ensures that you're warm.

Like the others, he makes sure you eat well and goes crazy if he knows you haven't.

(I think this is an Asian thing...)

This might seem gross, but on the contrary, it's not the case for him, but he allows you to spit out the food you didn't like on his hand.

He tells you to do it in the most poetic expression ever.

He hugs you a lot, first because he loves being close to you and secondly to stick his scent to you, so people can smell you and know that you're his

(he has a special scent so..)

(I've written a lot for him, I know, and I'm sorry, but I love him so much that I couldn't stop!!)

I hope you had fun reading! Please feel free to request more whenever you like!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝.

[sant-riley]

[ More task force 141 × OFC! reader headcanons] [pt2]

A/N: thank yall so much for all the love on the last hcs!! I hope these live up to yalls expectations <3 please tell me which ones are yalls favorites <3!!!

CW: She/her pronouns, Codename is Teddy, Simping, crude humor, Age gaps, cursing, British slander (if I miss anything, let me know!)

If you dye your hair, Ghost helps you dye it when y'all go on extended leave. The military doesn't allow unnatural colors so when you have a few weeks to a couple of months, he'll be the one to ask. "Cm'ere, I got the bleach already."

The guys like to go with her when/if she gets tattooed. Do they know what she's getting inked? Nope, but they like to keep her company and will go get her food if needed.

Teddy vocal stims,, alot. She has picked up on "Fuckin' hell" and it has yet to leave her brain and Ghost just stares in amusement. You can hear her echo it back to them once he says it on a mission.

Teddy is her codename but her nicknames vary from who's talking about her!

Ghost: Ted, Teds, Sweetheart, Runt

Soap: Bonnie, Rascal, Barra, Lass

Price: Rookie, Dear

Gaz: Love, Darling, Hun

They get on her ASS for being an American. They will poke fun at her every fucking chance esp if she speaks in slang.

Price shakes his head and tries to teach her the "proper" way of speaking but all she does is mock the accent. He has since given up.

The first time they see her off duty, it's shock. She looks so different when she's not in uniform, (if you have it: dyed hair, makeup) her normal civilian clothes. Soap is almost convinced it's not Teddy until she smacks him upside the head and calls him an asshole.

Being the first one to see Ghosts face because you're having a breakdown about all the murder and bullshit you've gone through, crying profusely and no one knows how to help bc everyone just shoves it down and represses it.

He trusts you, he knows he does so it doesn't take him much to take you into a secluded room and expose himself. He will say that seeing you silently stare up at him with awe made his feelings grow for you. He will not, but his heart definitely would.

Soap actively teaching you how to curse in Gaelic bc he thinks it's funny with your accent. Too bad you can barely understand when he tries teaching you so you're just kinda staring at him dead eyed.

Soap plays with your hair, alot. It soothes him to run his fingers through it or simply to yank it bc he's a little dickhead. He's the kind of person who'd let your hair routine and learn how to help you take care of it.

Ghost and Price straight up rustle your hair and thinks it's funny when you shove their hand away and get all huffy lmfao.

HELPING SOAP SHAVE HIS MOHAWK, there's no barber on base so you're the next best thing he has. Many of the team have walked in with Soap sitting between your legs bc he's way too fucking tall for you to cut his hair comfortably. Ghost walking in with you holding a razor to Soap's neck and just turning around and walking out immediately.

Price has given you a cigar to smoke, he knows for a damn fact you cannot handle it and laughs his ass off when you sputter. Top 10 favorite moments of his.

Gaz likes to give you British foods to try, he knows for a damn fact you will not like it.

"C'mon love, just one bite?" "I am not fucking eating beans on toast, you're insane." "It's a good meal!"

He gets so fucking mad when yall go to Las Almas and you devour the food there. Literally pouts bc he sees you with Alejandro and Rudy eating food and laughing together.

You play video games alot when on leave, please imagine trying to teach Ghost on the newer games that are out now. You make fun of him calling him an old man but he actually fucking wins potg/apex most of the time and looks at you smug as hell.

No one knows why you're called Teddy, so they all make up their own stories but you neither confirm nor deny. Soap says it's bc you're cuddly and cute like a teddy bear while Ghost says its bc you can maim someone like one. Duality of man.

Speaking of cuddling, it's not uncommon to have to huddle for warmth on missions. They all manhandle you to them and they all slightly do it differently.

Ghost sits you front to front with your chests touching While he sits up, arms around your waist with him playing with his knife, staring past your head and at the wall.

Price presses you into his side, a arm wrapped around your shoulders as he tells you stories about missions gone wrong, the smell of cigar smoke flooding your senses.

Soap also sits you on his lap with your back against his front while he buries his face in your hair. He tells you stories about his childhood and growing up with his mom, he wants yall to meet one day.

Gaz is usually the best prepared and has either a sleeping bag or a blanket, so he wraps it around yall making sure you're more covered than he is and sits close, yalls legs intertwined.

They worry so fucking much about you, you're young and while they have come to love and appreciate you, they can't help but wish you were anywhere else but here risking your life.

"You're too young to be here Kid." "And you weren't?" Ghost has to swallow down how much he wants to scream that he just wants you safe but he knows that's not his place, he isn't your boyfriend or husband.

Alejandro has doubts when everything goes to shit if they can trust you, since he hadn't seen much of you like he had with Ghost and Soap. But then he sees the way they speak about you and how these two burly strong men get a tender look in their eyes. He finds it funny but also feels great respect to you. It is not easy to get task force 141 to care so much about a new member but hey, you did it.

Alejandro takes you out dancing and drinking when you go back to visit Las Almas. He knows how to dance so fucking well and it's always a good time. He always has his hands on your waist and always makes sure you're okay with it. Perfect gentleman 10/10

Now Graves thinks that you're just some stupid kid but realizes quickly that while you can fight your own battles, you never need to. Just one look at Ghost staring daggers into his forehead is enough for him to swallow his tongue less it gets cut out.

Laswell treats you like her own kid, especially when she finds out if you have a bad home life. She always makes sure you're stocked up on necessaties at the base and invites you for lunch along with her wife often. She is the first one you call when you have anything personal to speak of and she is the mother figure you have while on missions.

Taglist <3 (If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!)

@tamayakii @teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel @marsbar127xx

[ohmytyong]

serein

⤹ now playing: sunny days by wave to earth

PAIRING: boyfriend!haechan x female!reader

GENRE: fluff !!

WARNINGS: mentions of food, pet names (love), explicit language (shit)

WC: 0,9k

A/N: happy birthday to the loveliest boy<3

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

the droplets of rain pattered on the double-glass window like dog paws on a wooden floor. it was the ripe beginning of summer, yet the weather felt particularly capricious today.

june didn't feel like june, you thought, as your arm hair raised with a sudden shiver that passed through your body, which was caused by a customer who opened the door to the convenience store, letting the rainy wind follow him as the door closed behind him with force. you hugged your body, trying to stay warm in your boyfriend haechan's mahogany varsity jacket. he had noticed your shiverings earlier during your walk at the beach, and he insisted on giving it to you. you argued, saying that he needs to stay warm too, but you were smart enough not to keep on arguing with him because, at the end of the day, he always won.

"so, buldak ramen?" haechan asked with his back turned to you, as he tilted his head to the side to take a peek at your confirmation. "always" you answered and he smirked with a tiny nod. he placed your order inside the basket he was holding and continued roaming in the aisles in an attempt to create a full meal out of instant ramen and other pre-packaged food.

the activities you had planned for the day didn't turn out the way you wanted; the two of were meant to go on a picnic date at the beach and stay out until later just to watch the sunset. your date began like this indeed, with a walk along the beach, yet the moment your laid your blanket on the sand, the first rain droplets started to fall.

haechan didn't mind this change of plans; you, however, sulked and pouted all the way back because your beautiful date idea was ruined. the beginning of summer was also ruined, and above that, your boyfriend's birthday was ruined.

haechan's spontaneous personality as always managed to save the day. he took you by your hand and held you all the way back to the city until he stopped at the first convenience store you found on your way. "let's grab something to eat. we can still get a view of the beach here if we sit by the front window" he said.

so you sat down at one of the stools on the tall tables by the window, waiting for haechan to finish paying for your food. you insisted on treating him as an early birthday gift, but he whined and fussed about it. "what kind of gentleman am i if i don't treat my girlfriend to some dinner?" he said. he won once again.

you didn't have to turn around to see him taking a seat next to you. his warm aura, his scent similar to the fresh air that engulfs the atmosphere on the first morning of summer was enough to make his presence known. he had already prepared your food. he placed the ramen cups on the table and slid yours in front of you, handing you a pair of chopsticks afterwards.

"did you enjoy our time together today?" he asked you as he munched on his food. you shrugged. "i did, haechan, but our date was ruined."

your boyfriend rolled his honey eyes playfully at you and nudged your shoulder. "oh, come on now," he dragged each syllable in an annoying manner, "we can do the picnic another time. you always focus on all those trivial things and let them ruin your mood. just the fact that i spent time with you today is enough for me," haechan said as he squeezed your cheek, dragging it upwards in an attempt to turn your frowny grimace into a smile.

"you're too positive, you know?" you said, taking his hand in your lap to play with his fingers. "aren't you mad we missed the sunset?"

haechan took control of your hand, playing with your fingers now. this game always turned into a little fight and kept going on forever until one of you eventually gave up. it would mostly be haechan who would win, as his competitive nature would cheat by tickling your sides with his free hand, making you laugh and lose your grip over him. this time, he decided to remain calm because he tended to be quite shy in public.

"sunsets are beautiful, yes, but we can always see one another time. i'm here, we're together and that's all that matters. that's the only birthday present i need right now, love" he said and you smiled at his words, reminding you that you loved him just for that, the sense of comfort he gave you, the feeling of hope for a bright day ahead.

"now that i'm thinking about it," you started and haechan hummed as he leaned his face closer to yours, "you are way prettier than the sunsets, anyway" you said and he smiled in his widest, brightest grin before he closed the gap between you by pulling you into a loving kiss.

just a few seconds later, haechan pulled back in a hurry, taking large sips of his iced coffee and then wincing at the tingling sensation on his lips.

"how spicy is that buldak shit, jeez" he cried and you couldn't help but laugh at the cuteness of his overreacting, taking a moment to appreciate how lucky you were to have this person in your life.

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab

@matchahyuck @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct @doieslefttoe

@uwuheeseungie

join my taglist !!

[moonxytcn]

Hey! Could I request Billie comforting and taking care of an insecure reader with an eating disorder

And, I'd love to be friends :)

Love and Insecurities ||

Billie Eilish x fem!reader

summary – when you feel insecure Billie is there to remind you how beautiful you are.

warnings – fluffy, angst (almost anything ), eating disorder.

word count – 606.

a/n – Heyy! my first request, I'm happy. I hope you like this, and I'm sorry if it wasn't that good I'm a new writer so I'm still learning, constructive criticism is always welcome. thank you very much for requesting.

English is not my first language so there may be some errors

This gif isn't mine, I found it on Google

–––

You are sitting by the window, watching the city lights sparkle in the darkness of the night. A gentle breeze enters the room, bringing with it a sense of calm and serenity, as you let yourself be enveloped by the silence of the night. Waiting for Billie, who at this moment was in her studio, you can't help but fear the moment when she comes home with the same pizza box she always brings when she comes home late at night.

Your eating disorder has been present since school. Since you were a teenager, you've always been a bit chubby in your thighs, belly, and arms, which at the time led you to suffer bullying. Not wanting to hear any more comments and teasing about your body, you started reducing the amount of food you ate and sometimes even skipped meals during the day, all in an attempt to get as close as possible to the imposed standards.

When you met Billie, it was like a breath of fresh air. From the moment you laid eyes on each other, it seemed like a line had been drawn connecting you two. Billie has always been kind and loving to you, always making sure to tell you how much she loves you and affirming how beautiful you are. Of course, over time, this reduced the insecurity you had around her, but there was always a small flame waiting to grow, I mean, surely she's seen prettier women out there, right? She was a famous singer, you were sure there were better people to be by her side.

But she always assured you that you were the right person for her, that she loved you, and that you were the one she loved showing off to the world, always protecting you from the paparazzi but also showing the cameras the beautiful girlfriend she had.

Snapping out of your thoughts with the sound of the door opening, you got off the window ledge and went downstairs to meet her.

"Hey, love." She says when she sees you, coming towards you and hugging you and giving you a soft kiss on your lips as a greeting. "I brought pizza." She adds, smiling, showing her dimples.

"Hey darling. How was your day?" You ask. "I'm really not that hungry." You say and you don't notice but she already looks at you with recognition in her blue eyes.

"It's okay, come here." She says, taking your hand and leading you to the couch where she lays you down and climbs on top of you. "You are beautiful and perfect just the way you are, and I know I've been a bit distant with the album production, but I promise I'll remind you of this every day. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever had the pleasure of seeing, and I'm thankful every day to be able to call you mine." She says, looking deeply into your eyes. And with her words, you feel your eyes welling up as you try to look away, but she doesn't let you, gently grabbing your jaw to make you look at her.

Looking into your eyes she leans in and gives a soft kiss on your eyes, cheeks, forehead, and until she reaches your lips where she gives a kiss full of love, passion, and affection for you. "You are amazing and I'll never tire of saying that to you." She says softly to you.

She gives a last kiss on your lips and leaves light kisses like feathers down your neck, which she passes to your collarbone and onto your arms, belly, and thighs where she knows are the parts you like the least. "I love you entirely, I love your brown eyes, your beautiful arms, your belly, and those wonderful thighs where I always love to be in the middle because you know I love it when you almost suffocate me with them." She says, making you let out a little laugh which she finds adorable.

You pull her up by her t-shirt and pull her into a deep kiss, trying to show your gratitude and love for her. Coming out of the kiss all you can say to her is how much you love her and how grateful you are to have her in your life, and that you hope that in the future you'll have the life you've always dreamed of together.

[teal-fiend]

content: f prey, pred pov, unwilling vore, digestion

you're hanging out with your friend, and their friend who you've only just met.

this person is small, maybe the size of a raggedy anne doll. She's not a tiny, but she's a way away from being a regular sized person.

You're feeling a little bit hungry, but when your friend offers you something to eat, you refuse.

and so you talk for a while, the three of you. you learn this new person studies bio, going for a masters, and she does bug taxidermy - you forget what she called it.

it gets a little less awkward as the conversations progress, you get used to each other and then your friend goes off for a bathroom break. leaving the two of you alone.

it's quiet for a moment, something sits in the air.

your stomach lets out a deep, prolonged growl. you excuse yourself. she laughs self-consciously, and tries to say something to you, but you're already on the move.

you act swiftly, and make sure you get her head in your mouth quickly, and by the time she can make a noise, her voice is muffled by your throat.

you feel her struggling with your throat muscles, and it almost activates your gag reflex, but you ignore the ticklish, irritation, and swallow. You have to use some force, as you don't usually get prey this large. You swallow hard, feeling the prey make gradual progress down

there is a very real sinking feeling in your chest. it's immensely satisfying, you take one last big gulp, then you follow the sensation as your hungry stomach is suddenly filled with a bounty of a meal.

You can watch as your belly swells out as the prey finds itself at it's last destination.

you look down at your mid-section curiously. If you tighten your core, you can make your body look relatively non-suspicious. Just a bit of an outward curve. But if you relax, it's easier to see how full you look.

You look pretty stuffed. Like you've just had a big dinner. You feel your belly cutting into your pants, which now feels too tight.

you look over to the empty chair where your prey was sitting before you decided to eat. Her jacket is still on it, and her bag is still on the floor. You belch loudly, it catches you by surprise.

You don't really know where to go from here. it was a spur of the moment decision. You feel the person kicking your gut, which is a funny feeling. you've never had prey so big - usually it's barely perceptible, but this is noticeable. It doesn't hurt, but you can definitely feel when she tries striking your stomach walls.

watching carefully, you can notice your belly move on it's own, as she pushes against your skin. You notice lumps and slight bulges appearing and she moves inside your stomach. You laugh quietly at the realisation. you've never been able to actually see your prey wriggling in your gut before. it's kind of satisfying, or engaging. but it's also a bit much; you've never had food that puts such a strain on your stomach.

you scratch your belly, thinking about it. it's kind of uncomfortable, how full you feel. You feel a little groggy, maybe a nap would help.

you run your hands over your stomach, feeling how taut it is through your shirt. Yes, time to rest, and get all this digested.

You lie down on you friend's couch, and rest your hands on your tummy, feeling the prey's body just under your skin, and feeling the grumbling of your stomach as it gets to work.

--

Your friend comes back in, apologising for taking so long

they start to say "hey, where's (x)?" but they stop when they see you up close.

as you turn over to get up, your stomach sloshes and gurgles, you burp again.

"I thought you said you weren't hungry"

"I wanted to have room," you explain, as you pat your full stomach.

your friend is probably mad at you, but you feel smug about the situation. You know they'll understand - you can't help your instincts, and they shouldn't have left a predator alone with a perfectly edible prey.

"I thought you two were getting along"

You shrug, "eh..."

your friend mutters something under their breath, frustrated. but you just yawn, stretching your arms above your head, feeling the contents of your stomach bubble as you move.

"okay, time for you to go home."

You try to make them feel bad for kicking you out, but they don't seem to care. You find yourself on their doorstep. it's cold outside, but your full belly will keep you warm. You sigh and start your walk home. walking is good for digestion, at least. probably for the best.

[artistsfuneral]

Jaskier meets Death at a forked path. He has never seen them in person before, their face - although incredible kind looking - is not one he's familiar with and yet he instinctively knows who is in front of him.

It's quite the idyllic picture to be honest. The path Jaskier has been following for the past few hours is lined with rough stone walls, the ones that are keeping flocks of sheep from straying too far. The sun is out and shining through the tree's leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows on the fresh grass. Death sits under one such dancing shadow-patch, surrounded by napping sheep. Their left hand is idly petting the spotted fur of a guardian dog, with their right, they're waving Jaskier over to join them.

He silently wonders if he should be scared. Others certainly would be terrified upon seeing Death waiting for them, but Jaskier has always been easily intrigued. Besides, Death is hardly looming over him, it's more like they're waiting for him - like one may wait for an old friend. It could be a trick of course, he muses as he walks over to where Death is sitting, then again it feels like the two of them could have met many, many times before and in much worse situations than this. So who is Jaskier to question Death?

The closer he gets the more he is able to take in. They're tall - taller than anyone he's met before, Jaskier thinks - and incredibly pretty. Not in the perfectly manicured kind of pretty, like some of the most beautiful darlings at court tend to be. No, Death carries a natural loveliness that can only be found and never created, like a special constellation of freckles, an off-center nose, or a small gap between your teeth. Death is everyone Jaskier ever sung of combined in one person, which makes him wonder if they always look like this or if they changed their appearance to please Jaskier's eyes specifically. If the latter, he'd surely feel flattered.

"Come sit with me, sweetheart," Death says and Jaskier is delighted to hear their voice. It's a very nice voice. He wants to hear Death laugh, he realizes as he sinks down next to them on the grass. Their eyes meet his and Death sends him the kindest smile, "It's been a while since I've seen you, sweetheart, I'm glad to see you happy and healthy." Jaskier grins, because what a funny thing for Death to say, but he can hear the honesty in their words. "Oh you know, just the usual aches and pains of my slowly progressing age. Nothing you haven't heard a hundred times before, I'm sure," Jaskier happily chatters back in the same familiar tone. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?" He asks and reaches for his pack. Might as well take his lunch break now, while the fruit he bought earlier this day are still fresh. Death answers his question with an agreeing hum and oh yes, Jaskier might just fall in love with them right then and there.

He focuses on his lunch and wills his foolish heart to calm. "Would you like some?" he asks Death, because his Mama raised him well and eating alone is never quite as enjoyable as sharing a meal. Death looks at him with amusement in their eyes. "I can not eat, but I appreciate the gesture."

Jaskier sighs, "What a pity."

"A small price to pay for a life like mine."

"You're alive?"

"I am here, am I not?"

He looks at Death wide eyed, a hundred thoughts stumbling through his mind at the same time. "I have so many questions."

"And I have a favor to ask of you, sweetheart," Death retords not unkindly. Throughout their short conversation the amusement never quite left their eyes and while Jaskier would normally feel patronized by such a look he somehow knows that Death is simply enjoying his company.

"Are we doing this right? Doesn't this whole asking for a favor thing usually go the other way around?" Death laughs and Jaskier's heart does a little jump, his fingers itch to write a new song. "You read too much, sweetheart."

"I don't believe there's such a thing as reading too much."

"The words of a scholar and a poet."

"At your service."

"Of course. I always get what I want," Death says knowingly, shoving yet another metaphorical box of Pontar towards Jaskier. Lucky for him he has long since learned to not think about these kind of things too much. It does feel a little bit like Death tricked him, though he loves a good repartee. "I have to admit, I am curious indeed. What could I possibly offer to you?"

Death turns their head away from him, looking at the dog in deep consideration. "I need..." Death pauses and Jaskier almost wants to think of it in a hesitant way, "to win a bet." The bard's shoulders drop immediately. "Ah," he says, because the hesitation now starts to make sense. Surely Death must know this of him. "I don't do bets, I'm afraid. It never ends well for the poets caught in between."

"I know," Death agrees easily and not very reassuringly, as a matter of fact. "But I am in need of a song. A song to bring the gods to tears and neither can I write nor sing. What I can do, is offer you my protection."

Jaskier's mind floods with thoughts.

Protection from Death.

The two of them stare into each other's eyes, the world around them timeless, everlasting. Finally, it is Jaskier who breaks the contact and returns to his bundle of food. He bites into a fruit, it's sweet juices run down his chin and drip onto his chemise. "I will make the gods weep," he declares and watches Death smile full of warmth.

[gayvorestories]

How about predator who’s having huge indigestion/belly ache from the person he ate, and he’s struggling very much with hiding his belly because prey is melting much longer than he expected?

this got very long, so I'm gonna have to write a second part another time. I liked this idea, and I thought it would be kind of a hot twist for the pred to get caught and have to eat the person who figured them out. I hope you like it!

Derek sighed and stretched, the warm water of the shower running down his distended, shaking belly. A hot shower after choking down a hookup always felt amazing, and this one was putting up a huge fight.

He sighed and patted the sides of his belly, "hey, shhh, it's okay, you're gonna hurt yourself fighting like that."

The man in his stomach yelled something he couldn't make out, but sounded very angry.

He turned the water off and stepped out, drying off with a towel as he stepped up to the mirror to fix his hair. The smooth surface of the counter was cold as his belly brushed it while he leaned in close to the fogged up glass, making sure to get the part even. He wiped the glass with a towel and stepped back, getting a good look at his stomach.

Derek was 6'11" and built like a brick wall, and his latest lucky meal was a 5'2" twiggy twink he had picked up online. He let out a long burp and gave his belly a rub while he thought to himself, I give him a few hours and no one will know.

He wandered towards the kitchen, his stomach shaking and kicking, and searched the fridge for a beer. When there was nothing in the door he took a deep breath and bent down to check the lower shelves, his meal thrashing as the contents of his stomach went sloshing forward.

Ah FUCK, I forgot to get the beer first!

Absently rubbing the bottom of his gut while leaning on the fridge door, he questioned whether it would be worth an in-and-out at the gas station down the street. The cashier is usually high and it's a weekday... maybe if I wear the baggy hoodie... he was kind sm-

Derek let out a pained moan, his meal had just given him a pretty solid kick. He flexed his abs back hard in response, squeezing his entire core on the man trapped inside until he started to shout.

"Don'tchu fuckin kick me like that again. I can squeeze harder than that, I'll break your fuckin arm. I'm not lettin you out, but I can make this hurt," he said as he gave another mild squeeze with his abs.

He heard a whimper in reply and went to get his big hoodie. Now he needed a beer.

The biggest hoodie in the house barely covered his belly, but it was bulky enough he just looked like he'd had a huge meal if he leaned forward a little. He slipped out, hood up, and tried to quietly slip to his car.

Two steps out, he almost walked directly into his neighbor.

"Oh hey man!"

"Oh, uh, hey Kenny," Derek said, trying not to lose his balance stepping out of the way.

"Really great day out today, it's finally warming up," Kenny said smiling as he turned the key in his apartment door.

"Oh, yeah, yeah it's great. Gotta, uh, go do some stuff."

"You alright man?" Kenny said, pausing before going in.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good, just woke up late," Derek lied. He felt his meal shift, pushing into the front of his stomach. He moved his hand to cover the spot and turned around quick, unsure how much Kenny had seen, "I gotta get goin, good to see you man."

"Yeah, you too," Kenny said in a slightly different tone.

Fuck I hope he didn't see that.

Derek put his hands in his pockets and walked across the lot to his car, the heavy weight in his stomach starting to weigh him down. He practically fell down into the seat of his car and leaned back for a moment, rubbing his sore belly. It felt like the guy in there had been doing backflips the whole walk, and his stomach was starting to wake up.

He tried to sit the seat up, but was immediately stopped when his gut pressed hard into the steering wheel. Derek sighed, repositioned the seat, and cranked the car. At least my feet reach the pedals, he thought to himself as his stomach gave an uncomfortable groan.

The entire way to the store, his stomach bubbled and churned as the man inside struggled against his waking digestive system. He parked and leaned back in the seat again, patting his gut as it let out a low, unhappy groan. "Buddy you have got to stop moving so much."

Derek got out and walked inside the almost-empty gas station and headed straight for the beer cooler in the back. He picked up a single 24 pack and felt another rough bump from inside. After a long sigh, he reached down and picked up another and headed for the door, only to be see that the previously empty store was now packed with about a dozen people.

He steeled himself and pushed forward. Two people blocking the first aisle, one person in the second but standing in the dead center... ah, I see a path, he said to himself as he slipped around a kid spreading out candy bars on the bottom shelf and counting them. He stepped into the next aisle through a gap between them and had to take a quick step back when two kids running through the store almost ran right into him.

His meal gave a solid nudge against one of his organs and he lurched to the side, bumping belly-first into a display rack filled with individually wrapped muffins. As it tipped Derek tried to catch it, but his newly-weighted stomach knocked him off balance and he lost his footing, hitting the ground alongside it, plastic wrapped sweets sliding across the floor.

Derek was dazed and blinked a few times to get his bearings as he tried to stand, but couldn't quite do a full sit-up.

"You alright, mate?"

Derek looked to the side and saw a hand reached out. The man reaching out was tall, decently built, and had a thick aussie accent.

Oh fuck, he's hot

He took the man's hand and stood up, picking up the stand with his other hand and setting it back where it went.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good," Derek managed to put together.

"Yeah you took a hard fall there mate," the man said as he picked up a few muffins off the ground.

Derek realized everyone in the store had just watched him wipe the fuck out, including this incredibly hot man who was now helping him clean up.

Oh no, he's hot

"Y-yeah, just lost my balance there," Derek said as he picked up a few muffins too and set them back on the display.

Unthinkingly, Derek stood up to full height as the man turned around and looked up at him. He froze while putting a muffin back, his mouth slightly open.

"You uh. Glad you're good. Good you're uh, on your feet," the stranger said with a very familiar look.

Derek smiled, suddenly a lot less embarrassed. The man had a handsome face, a thick blonde mustache with dark brown eyes, and the tanktop he was wearing showed off nice arms and a cute beer belly. He seemed so tall from the ground, but now Derek could see he was at least a foot taller than the man.

"I'm uh Joshua. Josh. I'm Josh."

Derek's stomach gave a low grumble as his meal shifted again, rippling the surface of his hoodie.

Josh's eyes widened and Derek grabbed both cases of beer. "I gotta go," Derek said, taking a step forward.

"W-wait!" Josh said, taking a step in front of him, "I uh.. do you.." he started. He lifted his arm and scratched behind his head while he tried to form the words and Derek did everything he could to stop from darting his eyes right to his pit. His stomach let out another groan and the movement under his hoodie was obvious this time.

"Do you want to go to dinner? I uh. Can bring a friend," he said, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

It took a second for what he was asking to process, but when it did Derek's eyes widened. "Oh, uh, yeah. I'd like that."

His stomach let out another gurgle, like water flowing through a pipe, and someone looked over from the next aisle. "I gotta get going though."

Josh took out a pen and wrote a phone number on the side of Josh's beer box. "Just uh. Y'know, gimme a text."

Derek smiled and went over to the line, his stomach starting to pick up in intensity. He could feel it starting to squeeze and fill with juice by the way it sloshed when he walked. He leaned forward to hide the movements under the jacket as he waited for the person in front of him to pay, his stomach making increasingly loud, increasingly wet groans.

The person in front of him took his receipt and looked at Derek as he passed, clearly unhappy with the noise. He put up both cases on the counter and set his card against the chip reader, using his other hand to lean on the counter. The constant weight in his stomach was starting to turn from a dull ache to a steady pain as he heard the card reader beep.

"Keep the receipt," he said as he took the cases and slipped out the door.

...

When he got home, he set both cases down on the couch and kicked his shoes off to the side. His stomach ached and he was ready t-

The doorbell rang.

Oh my god please let me sit, he thought to himself.

He looked through the peephole and saw Kenny. Oh fuck, he saw.

After taking a deep breath, Derek opened the door.

"Hey man, what's up?" Derek said quickly.

"Hey man, can I come in for a sec?"

"Y-yeah, sure, why?"

Kenny stepped inside, "hey, y'know, we've been neighbors for a while, right? I uh, I see stuff. I see guys go in, I see... only you come out. I'm not dumb, I know what's goin on. I know where all the protein for that bulk comes from," he said laughing.

Derek was silently staring down at him.

Kenny stopped laughing and his smile dropped. "Look man, I got stuff in my apartment I don't want the cops going through. You can't be going out all..." Kenny mimed having a bloated stomach and Derek felt a bead of sweat running down his neck.

"All what, Kenny?"

Kenny froze, locking eyes with Derek. He reached for the doorknob but Derek was fast, grabbing him by the wrist so hard it hurt.

"A-Ah! Dude stop, stop! It doesn't have to be like this!"

Derek let go of his wrist and shoved Kenny down the hall. He turned the deadbolt and tossed his sweatshirt on the couch as Kenny stood up and tried to get his balance. He looked up and froze when he saw Derek approaching, the distinct shape of a man still shifting just underneath the muscles of his stomach.

"O-oh fuck. I-is... dude what the fuck."

The man struggled inside Derek's body, kicking and yelling. Derek could make out one word: "run."

Kenny crawled backwards until he hit the wall. When the meal in Derek's stomach gave another hard kick to his kidney, he flexed his abs hard, the vein in his forehead popping out. Kenny's blood ran cold when he heard a sickening crunch.

"Should have minded your own business, man."

Kenny tried to make a dash for the door, but Derek reached down and grabbed him by the neck, slamming him into a wall.

"Here man, since you're so curious," Derek said as he shoved Kenny to his knees and pushed his belly against the side of Kenny's head, "have a listen."

Kenny struggled and tried to push Derek back, but he was stronger than he could have imagined. He grabbed Kenny by the neck again and lifted him to his feet.

"I think his name started with an 'A'," Derek said as he made a strange face. His stomach gurgled and a few seconds later he coughed up a slimy, half-digested wallet. He opened it and looked at the license inside and showed Kenny, "I was right! His name was Aaron." He popped the wallet back into his mouth and swallowed it, forcing Kenny to watch as his throat bulged when it went down effortlessly.

"You know, it's so nice not to have to fuck my meal first for a change. You wanna know a secret?"

Kenny was too stunned to speak and just gasped.

Derek leaned in and whispered in his ear, "do you wanna know a secret?"

Kenny let out a sob and shook his head.

"Well I'll tell you anyway. Men taste so much better when they're afraid. Are you afraid?"

Kenny nodded and let out another sob.

"You should be. I'm going to digest you alive."

"P-please," Kenny said sobbing again.

"It's gonna hurt the whole time."

Kenny panicked and tried to fight back but barely shook Derek's arm.

Derek changed his grip and lifted Kenny by the back of the neck with one hand and grabbed one leg with the other. He put the first foot in his mouth - shoe and all, and swallowed while he grabbed the other foot. He bent Kenny over as he started to drag him in, his knees scraping Derek's teeth.

"No, no no no! NO!" Kenny screamed as he tried to swing a punch. He missed every swing as Derek turned him, forcing his legs to cross as he continued to descend down Derek's throat. He was at his waist and Derek straightened up, speeding up the processes as gravity started to do most of the work.

"You can't do this! You can't! DON'T DO THIS!"

He pushed against Derek's face, but his throat was too strong as the steady pull of his esophagus and hard pulses from forceful swallows dragged him deeper. When he felt teeth on his chest, Kenny pushed hard on Derek's shoulders but he wouldn't budge, and a hard gulp pulled him in so far his arms could no longer bend all the way down.

"SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME, PLEASE!" Kenny screamed as Derek gave another swallow, bringing Kenny's head into his jaws.

"SOMEONE PLEASE! HE'S EATING ME! PL-" Kenny's voice was suddenly muffled as Derek took another swallow, dragging his head into his throat. A few more gulps and all that remained outside were his hands. Derek walked over to the couch before the final swallow and plopped down. He gave one last very difficult gulp and felt Kenny's fingers disappear into his body.

As Kenny's body slipped under his rib cage and into the wider part of his stomach, Derek felt his entire center of gravity change. He pulled the lever on the couch to pop out the chair and leaned back as he felt Kenny's hand slip past the valve to his stomach, sealing him in permanently.

Kenny began to thrash as Derek turned on the TV and cracked open a beer. He chugged half the can and gave his enormous belly a rub. "Shouldn't've gotten involved bud."

Derek leaned his chair forward slightly so he could see over his gut, but after a few minutes of watching Kenny struggle and fight he leaned back again to watch.

He looked over at the box of beer cans and remembered Josh. He reached for his phone and punched in the number, hoping Josh wouldn't block him for calling.

"Hey it's Josh."

"Hey, it's Derek, from earlier."

"Oh, hey, didn't uh. Didn't expect you to call."

"Yeah uh. Well earlier you asked if I wanted to uh. Have dinner."

Derek blushed a little when he heard the voice on the other line laugh softly, "yeah, you feeling hungry mate?"

"Oh, well, I ate a pretty big meal."

"Yeah I remember you looked pretty full when I saw you earlier."

Derek grinned, "I mean I ate again just a minute ago."

Josh laughed, "Twice in one day?"

"Yeah, I didn't think I would be able to but I got it down. I was wondering if you want to come over for uh... dessert."

"Mate I'll level with you, I'm bad at the double-meaning thing, you askin if I want to come over for a good fuck?"

Derek laughed hard, "yeah, pretty much."

Josh laughed back, "alright yeah that sounds fucking great. Text me your address."

"Alright, see you in a bit then."

Derek texted Josh the address as Kenny thrashed in his stomach. He leaned back and finished off his beer, stretching as his stomach gurgled happily.

Part 2 Coming Soon!

[dragongirl642]

heyyy i just read the werewolf shifter hc! it’s great, along with all your others. do you think you could do donna and alcina reaction to a s/o who is very tall (like 7’6”) and is a bigger person. but can cook really well? keep up the great work! <3

Thank you Glad you like my headcanons...here's some more 😎👌

Alcina Dimitrescu

She thinks you are a god/dess. Something divine, a gift plucked from the heavens that she is eternally grateful for.

She likes the warm feeling in her chest that blooms whenever you cuddle on a couch together or she sees you getting along with her daughters.

You're just so soft, and kind, and strong, and tall, and smart, and funny, and beautiful, and talented, and...she will wax lyrical about you in her diary.

If you're a woman, her earlier entries will be plans to drain "the new maid", which then slowly morph into poetry.

If you're a man, her earlier entries will be filled with shock and anger over the "useless butler", which then slowly morph into notes on what her "filthy but cute manthing" surprised her with today.

If you have any insecurities about your body or your appearance, she will loudly proclaim how ridiculous your insecurities are and love-bomb you. She may even read you some of the poetry in her diary about you.

She appreciates your height and strength.

Will shamelessly ogle you when you're doing any chores or heavy lifting.

However, she will avert her eyes and make a comment about "decent attire" if you wear any sort of crop top or tank top and shorts while completing said chores/heavy lifting. (She is secretly swooning.)

When you're anniversary was coming up, you scoured the town and castle to find recipe books and experiment with making vampirism-friendly meals.

Black pudding, blood soup, roasted bone marrow and other organ meat meals.

Alcina won't admit it, but she almost cried when you presented her with your one-year anniversary meal surprise.

She always talks (brags) about your cooking skills with the other Lords.

She will "suggest" you write all the recipes down and "helpfully" leave the necessary materials lying around in places you frequent. She wants to have something to remember you by.

Alcina doesn't want you dead. But she knows the village (and her castle) is full of dangers. Mother Miranda. Feral lycans. Her own daughters (who don't try and eat you only because you feed them and Alcina has firmly, sternly, told them not to touch you).

Once she loves you, she lives with the knowledge she will one day lose you and secretly fears losing you earlier than the end of your natural lifespan.

The Lords will feel like they know you before they meet you.

Heisenberg will make sarcastic comments about how Alcina has lost brain cells since meeting you, but he's secretly overjoyed that Alcina keeps derailing meetings to talk about you.

Some of them (cough Mother Miranda cough) don't like the effect you have on Alcina.

If it got to the point when she had to choose between you or Mother Miranda she's not sure who she would choose.

If it's in the first two years of your relationship, she may choose Mother Miranda while internally crying over the loss. If it's after the first two years (especially after five years) she will choose you, prepare for her battling for you in her mutated form (also, she may even put aside her hate and join Heisenberg's revolution plan for you).

Donna Beneviento

You'd better hope you don't have pediophobia (fear of dolls).

Will climb you like a tree. (just kidding 😅)

But seriously, you picked her up one time (probably to, like, make sure her dress didn't get wet in a puddle or because she tripped and you caught her by sweeping her up into your arms) and she felt so safe and secure and at home in your arms that now she just wants to live in them.

Angie will also try to climb you to get a height advantage by sitting on your shoulders. She feels safe up there. Not to mention she can swear at people without fearing reproach (until you pluck her off and put her back on the ground that is).

Angie acts like Donna's subconscious without a filter and will blurt out compliments or make comments about how cool you are in meetings. She also loves nicknames.

If you're a woman, prepare to be called "Sugar Babe" and "Amazonian hottie."

If you're a man, prepare to be called "Captain Cutie" and "Mister Hunk".

No matter your gender, she may make a plush doll of you for herself.

If you have any insecurities about your body or appearance, she will use the doll to point out all the things she loves about your appearance and basically love-bomb you every day until you're brainwashed and can't remember why you were sad.

Evening cuddles are mandatory. Donna loves your cuddles.

Beware, Angie will want in on any cuddles.

A few of the other dolls might want in too, but they will just be waiting in the background sending you hopeful looks. If you aren't pediophobic (scared of dolls) and tell Donna group cuddles are okay, prepare to be swamped in multiple wooden dolls wrapped in wool and ruffles.

Donna thanks her veil every day for hiding the fact that she is shamelessly ogling you when you're doing any heavy lifting or chores around the manor.

With enough compliments and support, she will feel comfortable removing the veil around you. (Although she will hastily put it back on to hide her blushing).

She absolutely loves your cooking. I repeat, Donna LOVES your cooking.

Before you moved in, three warm home-cooked meals a day were a rarity.

If you write the recipes down, she will learn to bind books just to handmake you a book to put them in.

Tea parties are a regular occurrence in the Beneviento Manor.

You make the food and Donna makes the guests (literally).

Please, please, please let her make you an outfit for the tea party.

Actually, she will want to make all of your clothes. Prepare to be the main model, muse, and customer of the Donna Boutique.

You are Donna's favourite doll.

She thinks you're the most gorgeous person she's ever met. prepare to be given so many tailored clothes.

Coincidently, you also have a set of doll helpers/bodyguards Donna gifted you. They're little butler dolls, who's job is to follow and protect you from Mother Miranda under the disguise of being your little helpers. You can throw/launch them at anything that threatens you, they love it.

Speaking off, Mother Miranda does not like the effect you have on Donna. She will plot to kill you.

If she gets scared enough, Donna may go to Heisenberg and ask for help creating a weaponised soldier doll for you, (which is really just a terrifying amalgamation of a lifesize soldat and a doll in ruffles).