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proxima-writes · 1 year

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title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever.

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool.

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges.

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in.

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router.

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message.

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis.

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely.

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath.

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once.

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does.

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time.

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach.

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering.

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are.

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied.

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.”

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door.

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this.

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting.

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one.

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps.

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside.

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out.

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.”

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts.

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask.

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house.

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies.

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally.

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town.

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds.

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning.

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall. He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin.

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks.

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest.

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex.

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims.

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee.

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside.

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him.

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side.

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @dreamingofdaddydin

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #pre outbreak!joel #enemies to lovers #hot neighbor

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jeanbie · 2 months

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SWEET UNWIND ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampies, foodplay, grumpy & sunshine, fem!reader, piv sex, silent sex (little dialogue) | wc: 6.1k

note: proudly inspired by the insatiable thoughts i had while watching charles bake his cake and kill people in "the brothers sun". also i got cheated on and felt horny, so turned to my favourite cartoon man for relief

⏤ When Levi's not working, he likes to take things slow, and as of late, he's found that baking desserts is an excellent way to unwind. Yesterday, he made a beautifully sweet strawberry drizzled cake with cream. On today's menu, his personal favourite: cream pie.

Gangnam, Seoul; five to midnight, the city turning in for the night as bold and bright lights flicker to life, the streets lined with neon glows that on the waterfront look like blurry fireworks. While constant lines of traffic come and go, honking and revving at the lights as they hurry to wherever they need to be next, Levi switches off the egg-timer that blares to life loudly and sets it down on the kitchen island.

Behind him, baking in the oven with a warm and golden glow, is the sponge for his lemon drizzle cake. He glances up at the TV screen across the room and watches as one of the contestants drizzles extra veins of lemon curd across a wide canvas of white meringue cream, then looks back at his own display of ingredients.

First, he heads to the oven and using the oven glove, he pulls down the door and extracts his top sponge layer. Immediately, Levi sets it aside to cool — too hot and the dollop of cream that will spread into his smooth centre will melt and dribble off like water.

When Levi’s not working, he likes to take things slow, and as of late, he’s found that making desserts is an excellent way to unwind. It’s a simple step-by-step process where the final product produces something he can feel proud of, and something he can enjoy with a cup of tea or even something stronger.

He’s found over the last three years or so of baking that a hard liquor blends well with cheesecake, one with crumbled biscuits as a garnishing layer. Bailey’s accents any type of chocolate dessert almost too perfectly, and even does well inside of one. Last Christmas, for example, Levi enjoyed a whole chocolate truffle infused with the alcohol all to himself.

Baking takes a level of concentration that actually requires very little of him, and being able to see something he’s made all on his own at the end of it all can often be more rewarding than the stakes in the real world, outside of his entirely too fancy penthouse apartment. His job is often too demanding, too vicious, but coming home with a bag of ingredients that will eventually transform into something beautifully delicious feels like he’s turning a switch and stepping out of one life into another.

Outside, out there in the harsh city, Levi Ackerman is a force to be reckoned with, a danger to those outside of his inner circle. But here, inside his home, his fortress, he doesn’t have to be anybody but himself — Levi Ackerman, the man, the neighbour, the dessert enthusiast.

Now that the sponge has cooled and the decorations have been sliced and prepared, Levi takes to assembling his own version of the British Bake Off lemon drizzle cake. Instead of it being baked as a tray bake, Levi’s followed the same style as Mary Berry herself; circular, smooth and comfortably petite.

He takes the cream he prepared before and slaps it with a wet plop on the bottom layer of sponge, smoothing it out with the flat-knife until he’s satisfied with the coverage. Then, he uses a spiral technique to create a lemony blend to bite into.

He spares a single glance at the swirling iron staircase leading up to the upper floor of his apartment when he hears movement, a simple and quiet rustle of sheets and an equally low-volume groan — a stretch of some kind. Then, he looks back at his cake and sets the top sponge over the finalised inner workings of his cake and gets to work on the pipework and decorations.

It is so easy for him to get lost in the craft. One minute rolls into five and rolls into ten as he perfects the lemon slice arrangement on top of the cake. He even prepared some lemon gratings beforehand and uses them as a powdery layer on top of the smoothed out blanket of cream. Once everything is in place, Levi looks back up at the TV and watches the contestants present their final results to the judges.

Back and forth — his eyes move from their cakes to his. He thinks his cake would have earned him Star Baker that week, that’s for certain.

Even though Levi chooses to bake after work to dispel the tension building up in his bones, he still doesn’t feel completely satisfied with his work today. The cake is as good as he can get, especially when it’s his first real attempt at a lemon drizzle. But an ache lingers in his shoulders, a buzzing feeling of discomfort in every joint and muscle.

Today has just been extra hard. One dessert won’t suffice.

After a long haul of tracking down one of the leaders of a local crime organisation known as the Hannam Tigers, and successfully putting a few of his henchmen in early graves, Levi knows that one small cake won’t be enough to satiate his irritation for the night. In his line of work, things went wrong sometimes, even when they were annoyances he could do without.

The Hannam Tigers operate in a network of highly trained men with highly decorated backgrounds, and even with Levi’s colourful skillset, it can be a challenge to rid them from the world.

Levi rinses his hands under the tap and uses a cloth to dry them, catching the final portion of the competition on TV before tossing the cloth to the side and dumping his utensils into the sink. For now, he focuses his attention on the assortment of ingredients he’s set to the side to make his all time favourite dessert.

But first, he’ll need to head upstairs.

With what he needs in his hands, Levi escapes the kitchen before it swallows him into creating more and more desserts and then climbs the staircase curling up into the upper floor. Up here, there is a study that he barely uses — not because of his incompetence to utilise it, but instead for a general lack of need, considering he prefers a much more physical and hands-on approach to what he sensitively calls his ‘career’ — a small bathroom and his bedroom, which he heads for and catches a glimpse of the glistening city from the window inside, the door ajar.

Inside, he takes a few steps forward and sets his things down, looking up to make out your shape in the swamp of black bedsheets. He can barely see you in the dark, but you groan and make your presence known, sitting up on your elbows to peer at his silhouette cast by the light from the hallway.

“You finished your cake?” you ask, your voice tired but nonetheless sweet, caring, genuinely curious.

Levi makes out your face in the dim light and waits until his vision settles. Once he sees you more clearly and sees the smile on your face, he nods simply and looks back down at his messy pile of ingredients.

You arch up a little higher to see what he’s looking at.

“Bring any for me?”

Levi doesn’t look up. “No.”

“Rude,” you reply, amused and unable to make out what he’s arranging neatly on the ottoman at the bottom of the bed. “I happen to like lemon drizzle.”

He knows. That’s why he picked that episode to watch, those ingredients at the store.

“I don’t,” he replies. Levi’s not a fan of lemon anything, really.

The door behind him creaks ever so slightly, the light widening across the room. You sit up straighter, watching him as he falls into a carefully analysed breakdown of his mystery items.

“Can I have some later?” you ask, filling the silence with conversation. If you strain, you might make out the next episode of Bake Off beginning to play, but you search for Levi’s signature noises instead; his silent yet attentive laughs from his nose, the grunts under his breath, unbothered hums of his attention and or interest.

Levi looks up then, and rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. His blazer is downstairs hanging off one of the bar stools under the kitchen island, his shoes by the door. Now, he’s just dressed in whatever he came home wearing — there hadn’t been time to change, what with you slumbering like a princess in his bedroom.

It’s a good thing he likes you, otherwise the lights would have been on and his work clothes off. Instead, he left you to it, heading for the kitchen when he came home and switching on his complimentary British Bake Off episode to accompany him in his regular routine of baking.

“I only made it for you,” he tells you.

You arch an eyebrow — not that he can see, anyway. “Oh, really?”

He gives you a hum, thoughtless. You rearrange yourself under the sheets.

“I thought the whole point was to eat the dessert yourself after making it,” you say, filling the quiet moment with something as he skims his gaze over the ottoman again.

He doesn’t look up when he says, “Well, I haven’t finished baking yet.”

“Oh?” you reply. “Something else cooking?”

“Yes,” he says. Then, he rounds the bed slightly from the right and whilst looking at you, he climbs up onto the bed with his knees.

“What’re you making?” you question, a grin widening over your face as he looms near. You feel his hand just miss your leg under the sheets as he lays his hands flat on the bed, lifting his weight closer to you all whilst maintaining an unnaturally cool composure.

If you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he was bored by the entire exchange. His face is covered in shadows, and yet you can still see the slipping shift of something in his eyes as they catch in the light from the windows.

Levi’s face reanimates in the city lights, now not far from your own. He curls his fingers around the bedsheet and tugs it down, exposing your legs to the cool shift of temperature in the bedroom. You shudder, leaning your head back until it softly hits the wooden headboard.

“Pie,” Levi says.

“Mmm. I love pie,” you comment.

He grunts, another one of your favourite Levi-sounds.

His hand shifts from the bed to your leg. In the dark, everything feels more pronounced; his ever-so-slightly rough palm smooths across your thigh and down your leg, past the knee and down towards your ankle. Once caught in his grasp, he manages to pull you from your sloped position against the headboard and back down into the pillows. He knows you're wearing nothing else from the waist down — all the more reason to tug you down and snatch a glimpse of what he knows is his.

“What kinda pie?”

Levi finds your eyes again in the dark, and you’re not sure if he planned it, but now you can see his face in a spectrum of light. His expression is flat, toneless, yet intrigue dances across his eyes as they wander across your face, down past your neck, and down to the exposed skin of your chest from underneath one of Levi’s shirts you stole from his drawers.

He says nothing for a moment. Using both hands and releasing your ankle, Levi presses his hands against your abdomen, running them up underneath the shirt until he reaches your sternum, the sloping sphere of your breasts against his fingertips. His eyes flick up to yours as he pushes the shirt all the way up over your breasts, and uses his body to part your legs until your knees are on either side of his hips.

The weight of his gaze makes you squirm slightly.

He blinks. Licks his bottom lip so quickly you almost miss it and says very simply, “Cream.”

Your grin widens.

Levi lowers his face to your stomach, his lips pressing against the skin above your belly button. Immediately, as if practised, your hands jump up to his head of hair, your fingers threading through it as he works his mouth down from your stomach to the damp space between your legs.

A home within a home; a place he loves to push his face into when he’s had a particularly long day.

Levi doesn’t even have to put in any effort anymore. You quite contently lift your calves up over his shoulders, widening them enough to feel his lips circle around your clit, two fingers widening your folds so he can stuff his face with your cunt.

Coating your clit with a layer of wetness, he replaces his lips with his right thumb and moves his fingers, using his tongue to part you down the middle, and making you writhe against the bed with a satisfied moan.

He’ll admit it to nobody but himself — he’s missed you. You’ve missed him, too, and the way it feels when he rubs his thumb against your nub in careful circles and plunges two fingers up your cunt. Levi could fool himself all he liked with the fantasy that baking a cake was enough to relieve his pent up stress from work, but nothing quite works to ease the burden like a face full of his favourite girls’ pussy.

Levi’s left hand drifts from your stomach to your thigh, smoothing over the top before curving down and round to the inner of your legs, his forearm wrapped around you comfortably and effectively locking you in place. He likes to watch the wetness pool between your legs as he gorges himself on your taste, but today he closes his eyes and closes his lips around you, tasting every inch of you like you’re his own slice of dessert, his favourite kind. Topped and served with a string of elated moans, just the way he likes it best.

“Mmf—!” There’s not a lot for you to say, nothing you can conjure up from the air gasping in your throat as Levi’s tongue licks laps around your clit, his thumb just shy to the side as he leaves a wet present for him to massage into your skin, his mouth very quickly preoccupied by the space neglected beneath.

As his fingers curl up inside of you, then widen apart, your calves drop as if you’re trying to pull Levi closer to your body, and in turn he pushes his left arm down on your thigh and drags you with a smooth motion down the bedsheets and closer to his mouth. Your head arches back with the angled slope of your back, reaching up off the mattress in a coordinated performance of pleasure, and Levi finds the time to open his eyes and look up over your stomach and breasts to find your face; mouth agape and lids closed, gasping silently into the dark.

Yeah. Out of all the desserts he could possibly create in his kitchen, he’d probably have to confess that his favourite one was one that could be made in the bedroom.

Your hands take fistfuls of his hair and feeling the hot flatness of his tongue in the space between your clenching hole and your clit, you find your hips grinding up into his mouth, the slight nudge of his teeth making you squirm even harder beneath him. Levi’s no longer phased by the aching tightness of your fingers woven in a knot on his head. Whenever your fingers twitch and the clutch on his hair tightens, Levi knows he’s doing something right.

Every lick and nip against your cunt is matched by a groan, and as you ride the dampness between your legs against his lips, your voice thins out into a raspy nothingness. Your mouth is dry with the air of the bedroom, your eyes forcing themselves to close when they try and open to peer down at the man snug between your thighs.

Levi feels a mixture of wet substances around his mouth and on his chin, but before he can grant you the pleasure of cumming down his throat, he pulls back.

The emptiness of the space between your legs is jarring, and almost immediately you sit up. Your hands drop from his hair and fall onto the bed, which you use to lift up your shaking body to watch as Levi leans back on his knees and retreats to the forgotten ottoman. It is only when he rises to his feet to observe the array of secret items displayed for his eyes only that you realise Levi is still wearing every article of clothing he was before.

“What’re you doing?” you ask him, finally finding your voice as he arches over and fiddles with something that sounds plastic.

You catch the shine of your own arousal on his chin as he scans the catalogue of items.

“Preparing dessert,” he replies.

Your brows quirk, but when Levi stands upright and begins to shake something with his left hand, you feel your heart and its fast beating plunge straight to your stomach. A knot wells and tightens, and you bite a moan back and feel your thighs coming together like a magnet in anticipation.

Levi is shaking a bottle of whipped cream.

It shouldn’t surprise you nor excite you the way that it does. Levi has always had reservations about whipped cream — it should be from a bottle or made in a bowl; exclusively used as a side for a tart or cake slice, as a topping on a pancake, as the twist of sweetness on top of a hot chocolate. Levi doesn’t use whipped cream on his desserts in the same way he does as an accessory to the bake, but today — tonight, it seems as though he has found another valuable use for his generally unused bottle of whipped cream.

“This is new,” you say, feeling your ass lift off the bed as you struggle to contain your writhing excitement. Levi tests the nozzle; a burst of white cream spits out onto his finger, and without looking away he puts his finger in his mouth with all the nonchalance of a chef tasting his dish as he makes it. “I thought you didn’t like bottled cream on your desserts.”

“I like it on some things,” he replies. “First rule of baking is that you never feel afraid of trying something new.”

You hum thoughtfully as he retakes his position on the bed. It should make you laugh with the way he looks down at you while slowly twisting the bottle from left to right, but it doesn’t; it only makes you breathe heavier, your pulse quickening and legs opening as if on automatic and letting him take the space he’s claimed between them.

“They do say that it goes well with pies,” you say finally, watching as he angles the nozzle down on your stomach. The placement, if nothing else, has surprised you, and you suppress a moan of eagerness when he presses down and watches with a newfound intensity as the spiral of white cream pools out onto your skin. He’s cautious with the amount; just a small bud of cream, enough to swallow in just a mouthful.

Levi leans himself forward and pauses just before he can lick the dollop up off your tummy.

“Clue’s in the name,” Levi replies, and with his eyes boring into your own, he presses his lips around the blob of cream and mouths it up off your body. It is entirely too fast, your jaw slacken as he pulls away, as if gauging your reaction. The yearning expression on your face has the nerve to almost look endearing to him.

He swallows. “Sweet.”

He receives from you something sounding like a whimper. Then, his finger is back on the nozzle and using the cream, he creates a trail from where he last was all the way down to your clit.

You feel yourself clench when the cool texture of the cream sits in a melting bundle on your bud, and your teeth bury themselves into the flesh of your lower lip, biting down with extra force when Levi’s mouth shifts down to your clit and in one teasingly slow strip, he licks the trail of sweet cream up from your cunt to the wet spot on your stomach.

With his tongue, your back arches up off the bed, your knees by his shoulders. Levi is uncomfortably aware of the pooling arousal between your legs, his own forming tightness in his trousers. Watching you writhe with a glistening shine getting more and more pronounced so close to his face has proven to be exactly what he needed to unwind today, but he’s still not quite satisfied.

He’s not ignorant to the way your hips meet with the empty space he leaves when he moves away again, as if fucking an imaginary cock or grinding against an invisible set of hips. He uses his right hand to press you back flat against the bed and savours every second of your aroused moaning when he slathers your cunt with the cream, leaving no wet patch untouched.

He watches with only minimal irritation when the cream slips down your folds into a white pool on the sheets — his sheets — but he takes its sliding as a sign to move back in.

Levi licks the cream up as if it isn’t even there; it’s as if he’s taking gulps of you like it’s nothing, licking every inch of the cream and enjoying the wonders of your pleasure as you cry out above him. His nose brushes against the hidden bump of your clit, the feeling of his hot tongue making your toes curl behind his back, your fingers clenching around the sheets.

Ordinarily, you may have laughed at the sight of his lips coated in a white sheen, the cream on the tip of his nose, but today you can find nothing to laugh about. Every unit of energy is devoted to the tightening clench of your cunt, the tingling warmth growing inside of you as Levi wipes his nose and rises off the bed and onto his feet, right where the ottoman stands as a barrier between you.

He lets you play out your imaginary fantasy, rolling your hips into the empty vacuum of space where he was just situated and uses his hands to undo the belt around his waist. His trousers fall with an effortlessness when he undoes the front button, and he compels himself to watch you stare at him with a lustful gaze as he pulls his trousers down to his ankles. He decides he’ll keep his shirt on — it’s only fair, since you’re still wearing his, albeit the fabric is bunched up under your neck in the way he likes it.

He mounts the bed once again and meets you when you moan expectantly, and relishes in the sharp intake of your breath when he takes your right leg and folds it to the side. You look at Levi over your shoulder, your neck to the side as he presses you down with his left hand and uses the right to hold his cock.

You are once again reminded of how truly lucky you are to have a man like Levi; a man who needs nothing but your cunt in his face to get his cock standing rigid against his lower stomach.

You swallow a moan when Levi pokes the tip of his cock against your fluttering entrance, and when his eyes catch yours, the sharpened edge of his grey eyes staring straight into your own, you can’t catch the cry of pleasure that escapes when he pushes himself into you, feeling you wrap around the tip of him like your cunt is a mouth on its own.

Levi watches you gasp as if pained and he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up. You’re wet enough,” he says in a low tone.

“Hmf—!” And then the length of his cock is buried inside of you, only proving his point.

There’s nothing to explain the way it feels when he’s stuffing your hole: it’s as if he was made for you, a perfect fit to make you whole. Even with virtually nothing to ease the slip into your pussy, there’s no agonising stretch, no painful play — just a wholeness that feels as natural as anything else in the world.

Levi’s fucked you so many times that he might as well claim he lives up here, and each time he makes himself at home, he’s welcomed with open arms and a swallowing gulp. He pushes his hips all the way against you, until the underneath of your thigh is squished against his stomach and you feel the slight slap of his balls against your ass.

He’s never quite fucked you from this angle before, but it’s not unwelcome in the slightest. He wraps his wrist around your thigh and holds the front of it with his hand, his left coming to hold the sinking curve of your waist, which he uses to push you further into the mattress.

Every time his dick sinks further inside of you, you let out a moan — he moves in and out so fast it’s as if he’s trying to keep your noise at a constant speed, never wanting to be left in a silence.

Levi looks down at you as he fucks, no longer interested in the way his dick disappears into the dripping darkness of your cunt and instead entirely devoted to mapping out the pleasure on your face. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but everything he loves to see.

His hips rock against you, his shoulders tensing as you clench furiously around his length. Surely you don’t mean to be coaxing him into an early finish — surely you wouldn’t be rushing him along when he’s trying to enjoy his dessert.

The tip of Levi’s dick kisses your insides, but from this angle and the burning heat pooling in your abdomen, you don’t know if he’s hitting your cervix or deeper into your literal stomach. Levi’s fucked you from all different angles in every corner of his house, but he feels extra large today. The darkened edge of his eyes might be deceiving you, the sticky residue of cream still on your skin.

You’re almost vibrating with pleasure as he fucks you, and all you can do is stay pinned to the bed like a doll and gasp out your praises.

Like most fucks with Levi, he says nothing besides, “Fuck,” in a dragged out, strangled type of way. He likes to make you suffer by dragging it out for as long as humanly possible, just to see you writhe and cry underneath him, your pussy pink and pulsing, begging for him to stop.

Today, however, luck looks to be on your side.

Unlike normal, Levi has little desire to unravel you into a sobbing mess. All he wants today is to fuck the brains out of his girlfriend and watch as her cunt fills with his cum.

Levi’s fingers clench into your skin, and for a second he closes his eyes in an effort to ride it out just a little bit longer before filling you up. When he feels your hand wrap around his wrist like a vice, his eyes fly open to look at you; you’re curled up, sunken in the bed, contorted into his favourite shape.

Levi spares a glance at his cock swallowed up in your hole and watches with pride as he thrusts in and out of the wetness, and after a stuttering sequence of your hips jerking and mouth falling open with the release of some of his all time favourite sounds, Levi devours the sight of white squeezing from around his dick.

He feels his throat catch. He’ll let you have that one.

Around the quivering clenches of his cock, Levi shudders and lets you squeal until you’ve run dry. He runs his fingers across the width of your connection and smooths the cum between his fingers. Then, without giving you the satisfaction of catching your breath, Levi continues his thrusting which gives him the continued pleasure of hearing you squeal and cry, your free hand reaching to the slip of sloping skin above your pussy as if you were trying to suppress the feeling rippling through you.

Long forgotten are the fingertips pressing bruises into your skin, but each thrust of his dick hitting the same spot inside you is met with an exhausted groan. Finally, when you’ve gathered the energy and courage to look up and around your body at his face, Levi lets slip what you think might be a satisfied smile, and he falters.

Ropes of warmth fill your cunt, and you hear Levi moan, loudly, and he unwraps his wrist from your leg and holds the base of his dick with his right hand. Carefully, he pulls himself out, save for the tip which remains snug in your hole, leaving no space untouched by his seed. He watches with wonder at the way your hole gapes around his cock like a mouth, swallowing his cum up until it billows out. Finally, he slips out of you, staring down at the oozing, swollen hole that is pulsing with cum.

For a while, he stares at it, breathing loudly as he waits for all of his cum to squirt out of you; it’s like squeezing a cream doughnut and watching the sickeningly sweet contents slide out.

Levi glances back up at you, amazed that you’ve been bold enough to watch him until the end, and he pats your waist appreciatively before rolling you back so that you’re flat on the sheets, legs apart, cunt wide.

Time to taste.

You watch as his head disappears between your legs, but he leaves no element of mystery. Your body almost jumps up off the mattress when his tongue pushes into your gaping entrance, lapping at the mixture of your cum and his and whatever else he can catch a taste of while he’s savagely licking down there.

Barely having the energy to pretend to stage a protest, you elect for moaning your approval and tiredly rake your hand through his hair again, pushing it from his forehead as you stare half-lidded at the crown of his head.

You lose count of how long Levi remains nestled down there. The only way you notice he’s no longer there is by the way he sweeps his hands down your legs and lays them flat, making note of every twitch and quiver your body makes.

Staring up at Levi and reluctantly forcing your body back up on your elbows, you grin up at him as he licks his top lip and appears thoughtful.

“Yeah,” sighs Levi, sniffing once in the way he does when he’s trying to fall back into his characteristic charade of coolness. “Homemade cream tastes better.”

Unable to argue, you heave out a laugh and meet his gaze.

“You’re fucking greedy,” you say, but that he actually does smile at.

“So what,” he replies, reaching for another one of the items on the ottoman; a cloth from downstairs that he uses to wipe the mess between your thighs, “we both know I like cream pies. I even shared.”

You flinch when he dabs the cloth against your still-sensitive pussy. You take it from him to finish the honour, meanwhile Levi gathers the bottle of cream and whatever else he brought and never used before opting to watch you shift the cloth between your legs, throwing it back at him in a forced huff. He catches it effortlessly.

“Whatever,” you say, very slowly moving across the bed to the floor. The wooden slabs are cold beneath your feet. “I’m sure your lemon drizzle is miles better.”

Levi shakes his head affectionately and moves to meet you face-to-face when you stand on your feet. He hums when he gets there and strokes his finger down your arm, charming his way into your arms and once he’s close enough to your face, he allows a smile to warm over his features.

He dips his head to greet your lips with a kiss, the first of the day since he left you in the morning.

“Trust me when I say,” Levi says when he pulls away, his expression amused as he croons his finger under your chin and quickly leaves another kiss on your mouth, “I very much doubt that.”

#aot #attack on titan #snk #aot imagine #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #levi imagine #levi ackerman imagine #attack on titan imagine #levi baker au #jeanbie #ittojean

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mew-ya · 6 months

Text

hello everyone! i'm proud to share my halloween-themed fic for raven's (@swampstew) event, where writers all incorporated a costume + a character into a fic! at the end of the month on October 29th, there will be a vote to see who wins the costume contest! check out the other fics and get ready to vote when the time comes!

character: Charlotte Katakuri

warnings/notes: no warnings (SFW fic), so fluffy it hurts, non-gendered reader, gender neutral reader, reader is average human sized

length: 4,016 words

summary: Your employer, Charlotte Cracker, Minister of Biscuits, gives you a last-minute invite to the Charlotte family's yearly Halloween party. As a newer resident of Totto Land, you'd not yet been to one of the Charlotte family's reputed parties, so your curiosity led you to the foot of Whole Cake Island on the night of Halloween.

You’d heard the Charlotte family threw a party for every occasion. And based on your arrival at the foot of the great Whole Cake Island, Halloween was certainly no exception. Hosted by Big Mom herself, every candied and frosted structure was painstakingly decorated by Streusen and his team of chefs. The cakes lining the horizon were decorated in the colors black, orange, red. Creepily smiling bats, balloons in deep red, and cotton candy clouds of a deep blue filled the darkening sky, contrasted brightly against the orange sunset. Fake blood oozed from the frosted fences lining the cracker-laden paths that led you to the delicious town of Sweet City. The singing, dancing homies you’d grown accustomed to seeing were eerily silent, silence a rare and disturbing thing in the archipelago you’d come to reside in. You spotted a few homies who took the shape of gravestones, attracted by the only sound in the whole area beyond the plodding footsteps of other partygoers. The gravestone homies sang a dark dirge as they sullenly watched a shovel homie dig up a fresh grave. Even the juice river had been dyed red to look like blood, deep red reflecting on the horrible grins of the trees peering from the edge of the Seducing Woods.

Having once glimpsed the true darkness of Totto Land, you couldn’t help but wonder if its morbid, Halloween-themed makeover was the truest reflection of its nature. Memories flashed back to your initial arrival to the archipelago. You watched the man in front of you die as Big Mom’s Incarnation swiped the final months of his life as payment for his residency. Vivid memories of him collapsing to the floor with a final breath danced in your brain, followed by the hollow smile of the creature with its white glowing eyes. The creature you’d come to pay twice a year for your ability to live here.

You shuddered at the thought, shaking away the uncomfortable memories. You’d lived here for about 3 months, happily, but saw the hints of darkness creeping behind the picturesque frame of the candy-encrusted landscape…

Inside Whole Cake Chateau, the highest of extravagance was on full display. The smell as you stepped inside the massive cake building was perhaps the most memorable—powerful, luscious notes of candy corn, lollipops, gumdrops, marshmallow, chocolate all tickled your nose in unison yet each distinct. The large buffet table to your right was a mountain of confections modeled after zombie parts, skeletons, bat wings. The serving dishes were massive and well-stocked, an army of chefs and rook knights replacing every calorie taken from the table with finesse and speed. To your center, a red velvet chocolate fountain so large that it rivaled an Olympic swimming pool. Guests dotted every corner of the ballroom to your left, dressed from head-to-toe in expensive costumes of classic horror creatures, characters from the latest trends, jokes, and other displays of amazement and fantasy.

You recognized some of the partygoers, primarily from your work as a baker in the cracker bakery housed on Biscuits Island. Visitors from across the entire archipelago came to your workplace to place orders for customized cracker flooring—the area’s edible replacement for tile flooring. While most often you’d seen the Charlotte family’s aides and assistants placing orders at your workplace, some of them preferred to complete the work themselves. Charlotte Katakuri was one of them—an ominous figure he painted against the colorful showroom, tall, dark and quiet. But his attention to detail and patience with ordering the perfect set of cracker floors for each of his projects made you come to realize that there was more than meets the eye with him. He was a figure that intrigued you more than you’d care to admit, but you’d only ever seen him in a work setting. He was a person that you looked forward to seeing, though you held your feelings about him deep within—he seemed too perfect, too unobtainable.

Until today. The most extravagantly dressed you recognized as members of the Charlotte family, who were both the children of the land’s queen as well as its appointed politicians. Charlotte Smoothie stood out immediately, tall as ever, effervescent in a red and blue princely outfit, epaulets encrusted with rhinestones and a beautifully detailed sword laying at her hip, her hair in a low ponytail like a fairytale prince. Charlotte Compote was next to her in a vampiress costume, signature bowl hat filled with a deep red liquid like blood, hair adorned in a slick black wig, fangs poking from red lips, and a beautiful blood red gown, and they appeared to be discussing the décor in detail. Young children in a rainbow assortment of costumes swarmed around their feet, and given their appearances, you could only assume those were younger Charlotte children as they ran in circles at Compote’s feet. From a distance, you spotted a tall figure dressed as Frankenstein’s Monster chatting with a woman dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein, though most of their outfits were obscured by the crowd.

As you approached Compote, another regular of your cracker establishment, you heard Smoothie call out: “Katakuri!” and the Frankenstein’s Monster turned his head. You immediately saw that Katakuri’s skin was painted a pale green that made his pink hair, irises, and tattoo pop in contrast. Steel bolts were attached to each side of his head, and his mouth was covered, as usual, by a scarf, although this one was tattered and worn to fit the outfit. Before she could say anymore, Katakuri was there, crouching down and saying something to the children with a gentle, yet stern look in the eyes peering above his tattered scarf. The way they stopped and listened to him so intently was telling of their respect for him—could these be his own children? Ah, well. After he spoke to them, they became quiet and orderly, walking single file towards the pink candy spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. The woman dressed as his bride showed up behind him, cooing, “Oh Katakuri—you’re always so good with them.” With a nod of acknowledgement, he stood back up silently, and noticed you standing 15 feet from them, staring directly at him. He looked at you up and down, and blinked.

“You’re the one from Cracker’s bakery,” he uttered at you with the gentlest hint of a furrow in his brow. The woman dressed as Frankenstein’s Bride next to him grimaced, the wrinkles in her face scrunching to her brow as she failed to hide her frustration. You felt an ounce of hostility from her, and wondered if she had somehow noticed your fascination with Katakuri…

You nodded coyly in response and approached the group of large individuals, but before you could try to politely continue the conversation, you felt a smack on the flat of your back. A large figure leaned in next to you, grin penetrating a hole in the side of your face. “You made it! I’m so glad,” Cracker exclaimed a little too loudly in your ear.

Smoothie groaned, “speak of the devil…” and Cracker gave her a smirk as he acknowledged his siblings standing before him in a circle on the ballroom floor. You noticed Cracker wore a bordering childish lion costume with a mane created from craft paper. Compared to the other costumes, it didn’t make sense to you until you saw him later on in the evening next to the rest of the Wizard of Oz cast…Mont-d’Or in a scarecrow costume, Moscato in a tin man costume, and Poire in an adorable and well-crafted Dorothy costume. You had learned their names because they all stood together in a line to be judged at the costume contest you watched later in the evening.

The siblings bantered around you, discussing each others’ outfits, nearly forgetting you standing there, small in stature and already quiet to begin with. You craned your neck to follow the conversation going on in the air above you.

It struck you as a bit odd that Cracker invited you, one of many employees of his, to this party. There was no one else from your workplace you recognized. On top of that, the Charlotte family all in a single room was a party entirely on its own, without any need for additional guests. This party appeared to be much the same, thick with Charlotte blood, common folk mostly appearing in (Halloween-themed) serving garb, some friends and in-laws dotted between the unusual shapes and sizes of the Charlottes.

You mostly enjoyed yourself throughout the party, learning everyone’s names and becoming more familiar with Cracker’s close siblings. The woman Katakuri was with was named Brulee, though you spent most of the night averting your eyes from them, feeling awkward for having ever had a crush on him. Of course he had a wife, or a girlfriend, or whoever she was.

Instead, you paid attention to the costume contest put on by Perosperos and Charlotte Linlin. The contest’s comically large scroll full of rules that’d been penned throughout the years of their lives together as siblings was read through at the very beginning like a very boring educational speech. Poire explained to you that it basically boiled down to: “make your costume yourself, don’t use devil fruits, and anyone discovered cheating on either of those rules would be banned from participating in the costume contest forever.” After learning that, your eyes opened to the absolute craftsmanship of this family’s dedicated costumers. Even the worst costumes such as Cracker’s childish lion seemed less bad after considering the amount of work he had spent at a craft table, hot gluing whiskers to his hand-sewn furry hood.

You had come wearing a mummy costume, but it was store bought and nothing special. Just something cobbled together last minute in preparation for the party, so you had no reason to enter the contest.

There was no real prize beyond the ability to brag—but bragging rights were an incredibly important prize to the Charlottes, and doubly so when a party was involved. Even a cool woman such as Smoothie was swayed by its power, giving her all to craft the most beautifully detailed prince costume this year in the hopes of winning. A teenaged girl named Flampe was swarmed with chess knights all dressed up in the theme of her costume: a musician with all of her adoring fans. You weren’t really sure what popstar she was supposed to be—her skin was painted like a skeleton, hair curled densely, a large crown upon her head, heart shaped sunglasses resting on her head with an orange feather boa around her shoulders. She held a green guitar shaped like a shark that she never actually tried to play. Given how nearly everyone in the room watched her entrance and participation on the stage, you guessed it was someone famous.

Later on in the event, you noted that Katakuri and Brulee joined as a team with their matching Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein outfits. You wouldn’t have pegged Katakuri as the type to want bragging rights for anything, but the crowd’s response to them was incredible—for Katakuri in particular. Oven noticed your surprise. He leaned down to you and explained, “he’s been voted the most popular brother, after all. He’s cool, perfect, and utterly undefeated in battle.”

In the end, the costume contest voting boiled down into a popularity contest, as things so often do within the family’s politics. Charlotte Linlin, dressed in the most expensive and extravagant Queen costume, sat at the large chair behind the judge’s table and laughed her signature “mama-mama” when she counted the results. Flampe’s skeleton musician-themed group was the winner and she accepted the honor with the smallest amount of grace, followed by Katakuri and Brulee’s Frankenstein pair in second.

The party came to a close, its music dying down, the youngest children all retired to bed or gone home. You’d been invited upstairs into one of the many candy-rococo rooms in the upper echelons of the Whole Cake Chateau by Cracker, and sat on the floor with a grouping of older Charlottes and friends sitting in a circle, all laughing and chatting. Katakuri and the woman he was with were there.

You’d chosen dare. A bottle was spun in the middle of the group. Whoever it landed on would be the second player of 7 Minutes in Heaven—a game typically played by hormone-ridden teens looking to make out in a closet. But you were adults, joking around. You’d been recruited as the first player in a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven, which made you feel a bit uncomfortable—this was a party your boss invited you to, after all. You weren't usually a dare person either, but you’d never gotten to play spin the bottle growing up, so you figured why not. The gentle haze of an alcoholic beverage helped, too.

The bottle stopped. Of all the people in the circle, it pointed at Charlotte Katakuri. Brulee looked uncomfortable, but didn’t say anything—why would a married couple play this game? You thought to yourself. But in the single night you knew him, Perosperos was the one making up the rules, and he was a stickler for those. You decided not to protest. Maybe you’d stand silently in the closet for 7 minutes with the perfectly terrifying Katakuri as he gazed down upon you in the darkness.

Words were exchanged, and you were both sent to the closet for 7 minutes of heaven.

You entered the dark closet, shuffling in and out of a multitude of large dresses belonging to Charlotte Linlin, the fabric nearly engulfing you. The door shut behind you both, and a voice rang out, “timer starts now! Don’t get too naughty, you two!” followed by Brulee’s audible groan.

You heard Katakuri audibly gulp above you. The feelings of shock and nervousness had blinded you to his expressions, so now that you were smashed together in the dark, you had absolutely no read on him whatsoever.

So you quietly asked, “Katakuri…?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why did you—aren’t you married? Isn’t this weird?” but you were interrupted by a large gloved hand on your shoulder, sending a wave of nervousness in a whirlwind through your body.

“I am not married,” he responded, simply.

You gulped, biting your lip.

“But, Brulee…?” you responded in your head, but the words didn’t come out. Somehow, he heard you anyway.

“Brulee is my sister. She likes scary movies a lot, so we dressed up for the contest.” He changed the subject. “I think your costume is nice,” he gestured, withdrawing his hand on your shoulder to touch the fabric with a respectful tap of his finger, unable to point in the darkness.

“Wait, then whose kids were—well...Okay. Thank you,” and you laughed a little as you went along with him. “If you’re wondering, I didn’t make it. The mummy wraps came pre-stained.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you guys had all these rules. Hell, I didn’t even know there was a contest. I just grabbed something from one of the shops last minute. You did such a great job on your costume, I feel embarrassed for you to even have to look at me! Cracker didn’t even tell me about this party until the day before.”

Katakuri sighed. “Sorry.”

“What’re you apologizing for?”

“He invited you because of me.”

You didn’t understand what he meant. Katakuri continued.

“I…mentioned you once...” That revelation piqued your interest. He talked about you? Why?

Katakuri shifted his weight from one foot to another, causing some of the dresses around you to move. “Because I thought you were…cute.” The words choked out of him, you could almost feel the heat of his blushing cheeks radiating from above you as he spoke. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

An awkward silence filled the closet—he’d stunned you twice in a row, first with the truth about his relationship status, and second, that he’d requited your attraction. What to do?

Katakuri cleared his throat again, uncomfortable and trapped in a closet with his head nearly touching the ceiling, stuffed awkwardly against the shelf with the person he’d just admitted he liked. You wanted to respect his request to drop the subject, so you didn’t push it.

Following his earlier lead, you offered a compliment. “I like your costume too.” You lightly touched the thick canvas fabric of his baggy pants where they tucked into his heavy platform boots, outlining a patch stitched with wide embroidery thread. “You really made all this yourself?”

The leg under your hand shifted in its pants as Katakuri kneeled before you, pushing Big Mom’s hanging clothes surrounding you out of the way by sheer size of his frame. A protective arm rested on the floor next to you, and he uttered, “Yes. The rules are very explicit. You can incorporate basic, store-bought items such as shirts, pants, but they must be modified in some tangible way.”

“Is it okay if I touch?” you asked, not wanting to be too presumptuous. You continued, “I didn’t have much of a chance to look at your costume too closely, but it must be good if you won second place.”

“I worked hard on it, but I am not sure it was deserving of second place. You’re welcome to touch it.” The air felt less thick between you as the awkwardness simmered into a cool comfort.

You explored the details of his costume in the darkness, your hands small against the 16’ man’s frame. The large arm resting on the ground next to you was adorned in the sleeve of a thick blazer, artificially weathered by his own hands, its threads exposed and rough with rips and tears near the seams. Thickly woven patches were sewn into his entire suit using embroidery thread. The blazer was opened at the center to reveal his shirtless chest, and although you couldn’t feel it, you remembered how his skin had been carefully painted green around the pink tattoos, and how the juxtaposition of those two colors created such a bright and engaging contrast on his skin.

“Did you sew the patches with a machine? The detailing feels so even,” you asked as you felt the perfectly squared stitching, betraying the imperfect nature of the Frankenstein Monster.

“I sewed all of the modifications by hand, though the jacket and pants were something I had already owned. Have a couple of injuries on my fingers to prove it.” Katakuri replied as he twisted his wrist, opening his palm next to you.

“You? Injuries? One of your brothers told me you were undefeated. To think you’d been bested by a needle and thread…” Reaching down to his hand, you ran yours against his palm to the ends of his fingertips. He let out the lightest flinch when your hand pressed against a small needle injury at the end of his pointer finger.

“How the mighty fall,” he answered with a spark of amusement.

Resolving not to waste this private moment, he made a move.

Katakuri wrapped his hand around yours, and with the softest motion, pulled you in towards his body as he leaned his head down. You were close enough to him to feel the warmth radiating from his core. You swore you smelled a hint of fried dough. The ruggedly tattered scarf wrapped around his lower face tickled your skin as electricity grew between you and the seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. You were so close that you felt his breath on your nose, but the scarf stayed put as a barrier between you. You looked into the eyes you couldn’t see in the darkness, and yearned for the touch of his lips against yours.

Both yourself and Katakuri imagined the feel of each others’ lips pressed against skin, the taste, the touch, the smell—although you had no idea what his mouth looked like. He always covered it, so your imagination ran wild in the dark. You kissed the scarred and torn lips of the face you imagined in your head, then you kissed a mouth with sharp teeth so pointed that your own lips were cut in the process. Maybe he had big cute buck teeth under there that stuck through a pair of swollen lips. You kissed that too. Your imagination ran through the possibilities like a rolodex, and each was good, wonderous, and electric.

Meanwhile, Katakuri’s rolodex of imagined scenarios was not so idyllic. He imagined the multitude of ways in which you’d reject him, how you’d take his scarf from him and embarrass him, how you’d reveal the secret of his mouth to the entire world, painting a target on the backs of all his siblings. He remembered all of his past relationship failures, and most of all, he remembered the great bloody wound across his sister Brulee’s face as he stood there powerlessly. He froze.

The hesitation began to hang thick in the air like a fog, and you were nearly able to feel the discomfort circulating from his body. You weren’t sure what changed. Time had been dilating and you wondered how much longer the 7 minutes would last.

You took your chance.

You grasped his hand which held yours so gently but stiffly, and pulled it close enough to plant a sweet kiss upon the top of his painted knuckle. Underneath your lips, his body notably relaxed. The gesture brought him back to reality.

Katakuri’s eyes glinted with the color of the future, where he saw the moment the door opened to light, just moments away. In a flash, he pulled your hand through his scarf to his lips and returned the kiss so quickly that you could hardly process what might be under there by feel. He then stood straight up and gave you both a once over that lasted no more than a single second, any hair or mummy wrapping out of place put in its proper configuration by the quickest swipe of his finger. As if nothing had happened.

The door opened.

His siblings joked, poked, prodded, and laughed at what they thought may or may not had happened between the two of you. He spent the rest of the night avoiding your eyes, as if nothing had happened. Eventually, his siblings dropped the subject. Deep down, they were rooting for Katakuri—most of the older Charlotte children had already been married, through virtue (or iniquity) of arranged marriage. But perhaps the strongest and most perfect Charlotte, intentionally held from the world of political marriage, would be allowed to pick his own partner.

The party moved on. Other games were played, other topics broached, other siblings bullied and jested and the family was having a great time. Katakuri thought he’d gotten away with keeping up his perfect illusion that he’d kept his distance during the closet game, but sometime later, his eyes widened at you like plates, face turning red under his scarf, burning through the green face paint. He observed his hand and saw a hardly noticeable kiss mark on his knuckle. It’s already too late, he thought to himself.

Seconds later, Cracker’s burst of laughter turned the entire room to your face.

“Hold on, hold on! Your lips are GREEN!”

“GREEN?!”

“What did those two get up to…?”

“Katakuri! You DOG!”

Brulee looked concerned and attempted to play interference by standing between you and Katakuri to block the line of sight. She’d grown to be very protective of him, knowing that his hidden heart was kind and undeserving of the expectations those had thrust upon him. While she knew he was truly not the perfect being the world had decided him to be, she would do anything to help him protect that because it is what he had chose.

Despite Brulee getting in the center of it, the chatter raged on, the rumors spread, and you gained some kind of reputation. Your eyes met Katakuri’s as he leaned over Brulee to look at you. You furrowed your brows at each other.

The start of a beautiful relationship…

#charlotte katakuri x reader #multiple other charlotte family members appear as well!#one piece x reader #charlotte katakuri #katakuri #buggy's spooktacular special #mew writes

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schlattsdoll · 9 months

Note

smut prompt 2.

doin a (cooking?) stream with j and all the otk people wtvs and you atart grinding on him subtly when he comes up behind u (ur half bent over a counter or summat and he pushes his hips into urs) n then js get more frequent once he sits down somewhere n u sit on his lap still in frame

he makes u move after cuz big guy can't controll himself and then later on u both end up stood up in frame and u literally grap his dick through his sweats and squeeze it like a clown nose xxx

very vivid I had this dream the other day so x

erm new here too 🍓 anon if possible

love ur writing bbs xx

hi lovie!! ofc <3

what's cookin' good lookin'?- jschlatt

minors dni

pairing: jschlatt x fem/afab! reader

prompt : “stop before someone sees!”

i made this a chuckle sandwich stream since i haven't binged otk yet <3

streaming with schlatt was always a fun time, but add ted and charlie to the mix? pure chaos. the four of you decided to have a baking contest, including decorating. schlatt took a big glob of batter on his finger and went to swipe it down your nose. “i will full name you right now don’t you fucking dare schlatt!” he didn’t listen to you, smearing chocolate down your nose.

he laughed while licking off his finger and kissing your now covered nose. ted handed you a paper towel to clean up the rest and went back to his and charlie’s batch.

as you bent over the counter to throw away the paper towel, schlatt came up behind you and grabbed your hips and grinded against you quickly. that was just the start of his incessant teasing, he’d do that, whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and worst of all he would grab your ass randomly. “jay, stop before someone sees!”

as the cakes went into the oven, the stream moved into the living room. you got pulled onto your boyfriend’s lap and were welcomed with a kiss. it was usually easy for you to get comfy on his large thighs but today it was a problem. you wiggled around in his lap, desperately trying to get in a comfortable position, but little did you know what you were doing to him. “gettin’ revenge on me now are ya doll?” he groaned lowly in your ear. you didn’t realize what he meant at first until you felt something like your behind. “maybe i was, or maybe i was just trying to get comfy.” a small bonus to your troubles. “if you don’t stop moving i will take you in the bathroom right fuckin’ now doll. either move or settle down.”

a hour or so passes and the cakes have finished baking and cooling, causing the set up to move back to the kitchen. as you and jay stand up, you grab his dick quickly squeezing it, barley even a second and it leaves him in shock, running to hide behind the counter in his gray sweats.

you finish decorating the cakes and chat voted you schlatt as the winners. “thank you guys so much for watching! stay tuned for more content with these clowns coming up soon bye!”

schlatt grabbed your hand and dragged you to the bathroom and pinned you against the door.

“now, be quiet my little dolly, and i’ll let you cum as many times as i want.”

#🍓 anon #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt fluff #mcyt x reader #chuckle sandwich imagine

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at7artblog · 4 months

Text

Made this for dont-doubt-dopple as part of a gift swap in the hsbb discord.

Among the things they wanted was something slice-of-life. So I made cake cake-making/decorating contest between Tango and Jimmy with their Decked Out 2-themed cake against Lizzie and Joel's Empires-themed cake.

#team rancher #solidaritek #shadowbeans #jizzie #tangotek #solidaritygaming #ldshadowlady #smallishbeans #mcyt fanart #trafficshipping #empireshipping

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harmlessghosty · 3 months

Note

ais leander Sandwich 🎀💅

Okay, okay, I tried my best with an Ais/Leander/MC sandwich, so I hope you enjoy it regardless. This was fun for me to write, at least!

Story is continued below the cut.

Also it is totally SFW ☺️

—

Getting these two together seems like a huge challenge, and you’re not really sure how you did it—or if they were the ones who chose to do it themselves. After all, their “friendly” rivalry extends to many things: arguments, drinking contests, whatever happens in bed…It’s only natural that it would extend to squishing you between their huge bodies until you’re suffocating, right?

In the Wet Wick’s bedroom, Leander hangs up his overcoat on a hook near the door while Ais bolts the lock. Without his jacket, Leander seems larger somehow, his muscles bulging against the sheer sleeves of his shirt as he straightens the lapel of his coat as though making sure it looked as pristine as possible in your presence, and that of Ais as well.

Ais, on the other hand, strolls directly to the bed while unbuckling the belts from around his waist. “Scared, sparrow?” he asks with a smirk. His belt flies across the room onto a thick wooden table, clacking against a random set of books that don’t seem to have been touched for decades—decorative, clearly.

Before you can respond, Leander laughs, booming enough that it seems to shake the one heavily curtained window behind the bed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he says, pulling the clasp of the holster around his hips loose before hanging that up as well. “Ais may be dangerous in most of Eridia, but in here, he’s much more like a domesticated wolf.”

Scoffing, Ais sits beside you on the bed but merely rolls his eyes. The movement makes you inch toward the center and stretch out your tired legs.

“Raised in a barn? Shoes off the bed,” Ais teases, prodding your side. “Wouldn’t want to be rude to the man who gave you the room, right?”

A shockwave of embarrassment rolls up your neck as you scramble for your boots, but someone else is quicker. Eyes locking to yours, Leander leans over the bed and deftly unties the laces of your shoes, his dark-lined gaze never leaving yours. You swear that, if Ais weren’t here, he would have used his teeth instead.

Slowly, he pulls the beaten leather over your heels and holds the shoes high in the air before dropping them dramatically to the floor with a loud thud. “Now, where were we?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he smiles.

This time, Ais’ scoff turns Leander’s attention to him. “Easy, big boy. You’re not getting that close that quick.”

Leander’s soft gaze that fell upon Ais turns a bit more fiery. “You’re right,” he says, though a minuscule drop of venom in his voice betrays a hint of annoyance. “Of course, I’m not at all opposed to the three of us—“

A fast shifting of fabrics soon finds Leander with a face-full of the over-starched comforter courtesy of Ais’ throw. You’re not even sure how he managed to whip the blanket out from under you to toss over Leander’s head in the first place—like a tablecloth ripped from underneath a several-layered cake that still stood afterward.

With a huff of a laugh, Ais adjusts his clothes so they’re more comfortable and lies with his body facing you, one arm high in the air in a clear sign of welcoming you to embrace him. He motions for you to come closer. “Clothes are pretty soft,” he offers with a smirk. “Should test it for yourself.”

Pulling the blanket off of his face, Leander hops onto the bed on your other side, his body filling the remaining coldness surrounding you. A hand rests on your upper thigh and massages light circles into your pants. “Face me instead,” he says. “Wouldn’t you prefer looking at a handsome face rather than horns poking you?”

“More comfy to burrow that pretty little face in a bare chest than whatever designer shirt he’s got,” Ais counters. “Just saying. Besides, I thought you liked letting others take control, Leander.”

As though entertained by the idea, Leander laughs, his voice a bit hollow but not a sign of disdain in his expression. This time, he shrugs his shoulders. “I wear my heart on my sleeve, don’t I? As long as I get a decent piece of the action, I don’t mind which ends of your bodies I get.”

“Then you forfeit. Come here, sparrow.”

Ais doesn’t waste a moment tossing his heavy arm over your waist and hauling your body toward him in an effortless tug. In fact, you huff as he steals the breath from your lungs with a tight squeeze against his chest as though he’s trying to keep you all to himself.

Chuckling, Leander scoots his body closer until you’re pinned between them, his chest firmly against your back as a hand snakes over the outside of your thighs before caressing up your stomach. It slips beneath Ais’ and pulls toward himself, making Ais sigh in annoyance, though he does nothing to argue.

Leander nuzzles his nose against the nape of your neck and presses a cool, momentary kiss to the skin. “Well…Isn’t this wonderful?” he whispers almost too quietly for Ais to hear. “You’re softer than most.”

“Figures you’d say that, with your body count,” Ais mumbles, burying his head onto the top of yours and squishing you into his bare pecs. A hand slithers behind your neck to pull you closer and brushes Leander away.

Only for a moment.

Leander’s fingers cradle up your front and take hold of your chin. He forces your head to turn toward the ceiling and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, delicate, almost like he thinks you’re more sensitive than you really are. With everything you’ve been through during your life, you nearly laugh at how soft he’s treating you.

“You’re special,” he promises.

“Bullshit,” Ais grumbles, but you feel the shift of a smile on top of your head as his lips touch the crown in a much stronger kiss than Leander’s. It’s interesting how different the two are from each other, though you have to admit both are just as confident.

With your head buried into Ais’ chest and your waist being pulled backward into Leander’s, your breath runs hot, but your mind runs with peace. Even between two of the most powerful beings in Eridia, you feel somehow safe. No one would dare interrupt the moment if they valued their life.

After a while—though you know that you shouldn’t—you allow your eyes to drift shut, earning a huff of amusement from Ais and a chuckle of adoration from Leander. But neither of them say anything as you drop into a soft sleep, feeling protected more than you have more many, many nights.

#x reader #leander #ais #touchstarved leander #touchstarved ais #ghostywrites #touchstarved game #ghosty’s asks #cuddles

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palebloodcvrse · 8 months

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Baking with the DMC V boys

This is my first time trying to make these headcanon type posts, be nice pls.

Content: Romantic/platonic dante x G/N reader, vergil x reader, nero x reader ...? Cause any scenario here can be taken in any way, relationship or friendship (cause what if ur aro/ace but still wanna do fun shi with your favs?)

Dante

Wants to lick the batter off the whisk, but you gotta stop him. The remnants in the bowl is free game, however

Insists on winging the recipe, says you gotta "feel" it

FLOUR FIGHT! Your peaceful baking session descends into chaos. You both end up covered in flour while the cake is in the oven

Despite him being good with his hands his cake decorating skills kinda suck ass

Its okay though, since you both tried your best and had fun, even if the cake looks like doodoo. It tastes good however... so it wasnt a waste after all

Hes a notorious frosting licker, you have to swat him off the cake like a fly.

If you bake something a pastry instead hes gonna poke the dough.

(Romance:) will lick the frosting/batter off of your hand or face if you get any of it on you while mixing.

Vergil

Im not gonna lie here, he miiight turn it into a bit of a contest.

His perfectionistic nature will push him to ultra tryhard it, even if it is just a dessert or pastry. He'll check the recipe constantly and will be careful about each detail (or at least try)

You remind him that you two are baking for fun and he calms down a bit, but he will still act as if hes competing in the great british bakeoff or some shit

Insists on frosting the cake for you, but only so he can show off how steady his hands are. (Even if he screws it up)

The cake ends up being too pretty to eat

Wants to try harder pastries and desserts, usually something fancy like a mille fueille

That doesnt mean you two will always succeed however, Vergil just likes to push his limits even if he fails.

He'll give you a warm smile as you two finish the thing youre baking. At least hes not so tense anymore...

(Romance:) he'll feed you a piece of whatever you two baked together, looking into your eyes and watching for your reaction, then kisses you to have a taste but go back to being his stonefaced grumpy self later like nothing happened.

Nero

Overmixes the batter because hes tense

Kinda scatterbrained, will forget to preheat the oven sometimes

Hes actually more tolerable to bake with than his dad or uncle, less tense and also less chaotic

He'll let you take the lead for this one, just tell him what to do or get and he'll go right on ahead.

Hes actually not so tense anymore, considering baking is a relaxing activity.

Will leave the decorating to you, hes not very good at it.

(Platonic:) insists on leaving some for kyrie, aint no way he wont give her any

(Romantic:) will always leave some for you, no matter how good it tastes.

You two wont be making anything too complex but whatever comes out of it tastes great and his presence will make baking feel like a wholesome activity.

You two tell stories to each other and get a bit distracted.

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marilynthornhilllover · 5 months

Note

Literally anything with Larissa please!!!!!

Kinkmas fanfic: #1

Snow ball fights

Larissa weems x fem reader

Warning: fluff, slight talk of smut and teasing.

It was Christmas morning and there was no better place in the world to be than in bed with your amazing wife larissa. You yawned as you sat up and looked around the room, adjusting to the sun light peaking through the thin curtains. Your alarm on your phone rang catching your attention, it was 6:45 AM. Sighing you quickly turned it off before it could wake up larissa. She stirred tiredly as she turned away from you, pulling the entire blanket away from your side and over to hers as she grumbled before laying still.

You giggled softly at her childish demeanor, she looked so perfect as she slept, like the sleeping beauty she was, like the goddess she is. Hair emblazoned out around the pillows, one of the straps to her pink silk tank top slightly off her shoulder. You couldn't help looking at her beautiful pale skin with red and purple marks that you designed from last night's activities. You watched as she looked so adorable and perfect as she slept.

You smiled softly at her peaceful sleeping form. You groaned, pulling yourself from the bed - the place you so desperately wanted to be. You weren't typically the early bird in the relationship, that would be Larissa because she has to work very often, you were quite the contrary. You wanted nothing more than to sleep in with Larissa but it was Christmas morning and you both were going to be having lots of friends and family over later tonight and the food wasn't going to cook itself.

You had already prepared lots of goodies the night before brownies, cookies, cake pops, sweet meat sticks and so much more, you just needed to put them in the oven. Tonight was going to be special because it's also the first Christmas where you get to spend it with Larissa's family. They're never in Jericho and not much of the traveling type, so you were both excited when her parents said they were flying out for the Holidays.

You were quick to call some close friends from overseas asking if they could join for the holidays and Larissa did the same, so there was going to be a full house tonight. You also prepared some fun activities to do before gift opening, such as karaoke, seeing who could watch the most cringy Christmas movies, doing couple and friend challenges, cake and snack eating contest and lastly secret Santa. You were beyond excited - excited would be an understatement. You were going all out this year. After all, we can all agree that 2023 hasn't been all sunshine and roses what better way to celebrate it ending that with a nice holiday fess.

The mansion was very well decorated, with the biggest Christmas tree in the living room and every inch of the house beautifully decorated with Christmas lights, and the outside had blown up reindeer and elves along with many different colored Christmas lights. Everything looked significant.

You took a warm shower with your vanilla-scented Christmas bath scrub and soap then changed into your matching pajamas that you had bought for both you and Larissa to wear today, you placed hers on the bed so that she could easily change into it when she woke up, as you continued to get ready. You did your hair in a Christmas themed hairstyle You slipped on your uggs before heading off to the kitchen.

You checked the pastries that you left in the oven last night to make sure that they were okay before proceeding to turn on the oven to get them baking. You decided to bake something that everyone enjoyed so there were lots of pastries done in consideration of that. But you still had to work on the chocolate spice cinnamon rolls that your friend loved so much as well as donuts and homemade pop tarts.

The kitchen smiled like heaven. You decided to brighten up the mood a little by playing some Christmas music from the Playlist that you and Larissa had picked out. You started working on Christmas dinner as well. Since you and Larissa were both having your family and friends over, and everyone had different food tastes you decided to cook traditional dishes.

You were making chicken soup, pepperoni and jerk Juliet pizza, grand turkey with fries, fired crab with gravy sauce and, bread and of course the classic and also larissas favorite, Italian baked chicken wings in barbecue sauce. You made sure to order all the famous red wines and sweet alcoholic drinks aswell hot chocolate mix from France.

You didn't even realize that you began dancing to the music singing along to the lyrics a little too loud awakening Larissa in the process. She sleepily made her way down the hall from the bedroom, dressed in her pajamas and hair in a messy bun with her bunny slippers. You looked up at her as she stopping in front of you and stretched, her shirt rising up, flashing you the beautiful pale skin of her belly. You smiled at her form and leaned over to give her a peck on the lips.

" good morning sleepily head" you spoke, turning to put the cinnamon rolls in the oven as you took out the other pastires that were finished and placing them in the heating oven so they won't get cold before tonight. Larissa gently wrapped her hands around your waist pulling you into her. She gently began sucking and biting on your pulse point as her hand slipped into your pants and underwear.

You squealed and grabbed her wrist and stopped her before kissing her on her knuckles as she whined.

" I'm sorry baby but we have things to do today. We haven't even started wrapping and labeling the gifts yet and your family likes to be early birds" She tried to protest but you placed a hand on her lips and chuckled at her needy state.

" Oh come on y/n I can make you cum in 5 minutes! It won't even take that long if I use my fingers" she spoke in her raspy morning voice giving you that dirty look that turns you on faster than a light switch. You tried your best to ignore the aching and throbbing feeling in your core as you gently pushed her off your body.

" very impressive rissa but I don't want our food to burn and we have things to do" you said as she sighed in defeat before giving you a kiss on the forehead and then heading off to your batch of cookies before attempting to steal one, obviously you couldn't let that happen, so you snatched it from her quickly.

" larissa! We have to have enough food incase our guests bring more guests! You can have a cake pop" You smiled sheepishly at her as you gave her a red velvet cake pop with strawberry sauce and sprinkles on it. She took it looking at you in utter disbelief, mouth slightly open in shock before turning around and walking back down the hall towards her office.

"Great, I can't have pussy or cookies" she mumbled under her breath but loud enough for you to hear. You chuckled at her childish nature and continued to cook. After getting a decent amount of the pastries and food done you decide to go see what larissa was doing. Making your way down the hall you could hear her on a phone call. You stood in the door way and looked at her for permission for entry, she side eyed you and made hand movements signaling you to come in.

You entered and listened as she talked to the person on the other side. A hint of annoyance in her tone as she tried to stay calm.

" you can't be fucking serious Josh, you deal with it! The fuck! - what did you just say?! You know what, I can't handle your bullshit and incompetent behavior today if all days, you're fired! And fuck you!" She shouted as she hung up the phone. You looked up at her surprised at her out rage. She held her hands over her face in embarrassment as she tried to calm down.

" wanna talk about it?" You asked quietly and she shook her head and sighed, looking up she was met with your worried gaze. She pouted and tapped her lap. "c'mere darling" you walked over to her desk as she moved out her chair so you can sit on her lap. She moved it back it so your back was pressed against the table and your front against her chest.

She held your hips firmly as she snuggled her face into your neck. You gently combed your fingers through her hair, caressing her scalp with your nails.

" it was my assistant, can't believe he would want me to come in to work on Christmas!" she grumbled into you. You sighed and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her ocean eyes met yours in an instant. She looked at you so loving and caring. Like you were the only and rarest diamond in the entire world.

" it's ok, it's Christmas I mean you deserve your time off and he should know that" she hummed in agreement and kissed your nose smiling at you softly before her wide toothy grin came into evidence. She could tell that her actions and sudden out lash caused your mood to have a slight downfall and she didn't like that.

" I don't want my bad mood making you sad my love, you got up early and did so many things and I love you and I'm so externally grateful for you sweetheart" she spoke as she pouted playing with the waistband of your pants. You have her a warm smile while looking down at her veiny hands and red-painted nails before an idea struck you suddenly.

" I know something that could cheer you up," you said cheerfully with a huge smile that Larissa soon mirrored with a confused look. You pushed out of her chair with your feet and quickly got up dragging her along with you as you hurried back to the bedroom. You threw on a pair of black leggings, a white cardigan and your favorite pair of moon boots and you made sure that larissa did the same.

She still had that confused look on her face causing you to roll your eyes and pull her back down the hall and outside.

" what are you doing y/n it's freezing out here" she stepped out behind you turning to close the door as she wrapped her arms around herself to provide warmth for herself. As soon as she turned around that's when you striked. You threw a big ball if snow at her, resulting in it hitting her face. She froze in both shock and unexpectedness. She wiped away the cold ice remains from her face and looked up at you with put anger in her eyes.

" oh your gonna get it young lady " she practically shouted as she ran towards you picking up some snow in her hands and throwing it at you. You dodged it quickly making her gasp in as if she was hurt, you giggled and sticked out your tongue at her in a mocking stance. She raised her eyebrows at you in a playful form, her way of telling you "game on".

She picked up another handful of snow and threw it at you this time it did hit you and it went down your shirt making flinch at the sudden coldness on your skin, granting her access to make her way closer towards you. You quickly recovered and ran away before picking up some more snow and throwing it at her, this time she dodged it. This went on until two stray cats decided to join the both of you.

A ginger cat and a black cat, you and larissa giggled as the kittens played rough, of course they meant no harm, they're still young so it's their way of survival and they were just acting on instinct. The black one chased you around the yard, you quickly tried to run away from it before tripping over a high pile of snow and falling face first into the snow.

Larissa stopped dead in her tracks as she watched you get up, sitting on your knees as your entire face was covered in snow as you tried to get it off so you could see. She tried her best to hold in her laughter but she just couldn't. She busted out laughing as she watched you try to get up but only falling in the process. She held her stomach as she pretended to wipe a fake tear from her eye.

She chuckled as she watched you sit there helpless and embarrassed. She smirked as she saw you look at her in a annoyed manner before proceeding to help you up.

" they say karma doesn't forget anyone's address darling and it's very tr-" before she could finish her sentence you used the hand she was going to use to help you up to pull her down. You both erupted into a fit of laughter.

You both sighed as you tried to catch your breaths as you turned to look at each other.

" God I love you" you said as you looked up at the falling snow.

" I love you too, sweetheart " she spoke as she held your hand. You both smiled as you made snow angels before getting up.

" if you give me a piggy back ride to go in I'll l let you build that ginger bread house" you spoke looking up at her as she wiped off her leggings form snow and small twigs. She smiled and shook your hand.

" deal" she turned around and allowed you to get onto her back before proceeding to carry you inside.

The morning went on with more fun activities before it was almost time for everyone to arrive. You got dressed in a beauty black dress and larissa kept it fashionable as she rocked a navy blue suit.

Everyone started pulling up in the drive way, some already making their way through the door, in beautiful dresses and outfits and huge gifts.you both greeted them and showed them inside, saying hello to your friends and kissing your family members hello. You and larissa made your way to the dinning area to set up the table mats as everyone grabbed a welcome snack or pastire. You beant over the table to set one of the mats straight as you felt larissa bend over ontop of you behind you, her strap evident as she pushed up against you.

" larissa what the hell, someone can walk in and see us!" You whispered as you held onto the table to stable yourself and not appear truly helpess and needy.

" so? Don't act like you wouldn't want that. they just got here but I can't wait for them to leave so I can't fuck you in that dress darling" she husked as she walked away from you.

" larissa hi!" A guest greeted larissa on her way in to the dinning hall as larissa made her way out. She glanced over her shoulder and spared you one single look, before winking at you and then walking out. She left you desperate and aching and now you had to wait til God knows when to fuck by strap......

Kinknmas taglist : @agathaandgwenslesbian , comment if you wanna be tagged and apart of the taglist when more kinkmas fics are released!!! Hope you guys enjoyed i feel like this was a bit lazy :( but more spicy fics coming soon!!!😏

#larissa weems fanfic #larissaweems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #wednesday netflix #fypシ゚viral #fanfic #gwendoline christie #love #larissa weems x female reader #cute #gwendolineuniverse #wednesday #marilynthornhilllover fanfics

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thatbigbisexual29 · 10 months

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Opposite Day (ATSP)

*pant pant pant* I"VE DONE IT! THE FIC IS COMPLETE! Sorry it took so long guys, this was a little hard to write for some reason? This one is a little short and has more of buildup than tickling, but the next one I know you all will really enjoy! Anyways, eat up my beauties! And as always, thank's for the kind words and enjoy ;)

“Gwendie. I don’ mind you stayin’ at mah place, but could you get offa me?” Hobie asked as the girl had her feet planted near Hobie’s face. The two were chilling at Hobie’s place and Gwen had the audacity to walk in, unannounced, approach Hobie as he laid on his couch, and fully laid on top of him. Gwen, not even bothering to fight back her mischievous, shit-eating grin, looked up and pretended to think about it.

“Nah, I’m good.” She then picked up a nearby magazine and began flipping through the pages. With a small growl, Hobie then smirked, an idea popping into his head.

“Y’know, Gwendie, s’actually opposite day in this universe. So, fank you.” He lifted up one of his legs and let Gwen fall to the floor with a loud grunt. She glared back with an offended and shocked look, a slight smile to her open mouth as she scoffed. Hobie smirked and stood up, walking to the small kitchen.

“You jerk!” Gwen accused as she stood up and jogged to him, poking her head in behind him. Just then, keys jiggled against the doorknob as Karl Morningdew, aka Captain Anarchy, entered the building. Hobie smirked, immediately creating a plan in his head.

“Oi, Karl! Is Opposite Day, no?” he called behind him.

Without skipping a beat, Karl walked past them while reading a (probably stolen) magazine and said, “Course not. Comes ‘round this time of year every year. Why?”

God how Hobie loved him. Not even two seconds in the door and he’s already playing along with his games. That’s how Hobie knew he had a great friend. Gwen looked shocked and perturbed at the same time. The look on her face was pure confusion. Hobie fought down his laugh.

“See?” He gestured, a smirk on his face as he looked at Gwen. “‘S Opposite Day. Get used to it~”

Gwen groaned, as any other teen would do, and crossed her arms in a huff.

“Since when do you follow rules?” she asked.

“I just do what pisses someone else off.” Hobie gave her a broad, cheeky smile and returned to his teabag. Gwen rolled her eyes and returned to the couch, laying across the cushions. She flipped through the channels, searching for anything mind numbing to watch. Karl sat on the (broken) armchair and flipped through his magazine quietly. Hobie came back and lifted up Gwen’s feet to make room for himself.

“Oi, leave dis one on,” Hobie said. Gwen scoffed a laugh.

“You watch the Great British Baking Show?”

“Don’t you dare mock that show, Gwen,” Karl piped up, “Hobie is very passionate about nice old ladies making cakes and promoting their local businesses.”

“Bofa yous can suck it,” Hobie grumbled, sipping on his tea as the two laughed at him. But Hobie had the last laugh when he saw them both deeply engrossed in the show twenty minutes later. They even started commenting aloud, talking about which contestant was more screwed. Like you can do any better, Hobie retorted in his head. As the show went on, one of the bakers decided to make a cake shaped and decorated to look like an electric guitar. This brought back sudden memories of the prank that was pulled on his own guitar not even a week ago. Then, he realized Gwen still had her feet on his lap. What a perfect opportunity for revenge.

Hobie set his tea on a side table and innocently put his hands in his lap. Then, acting as if he was bored, started to graze his fingers on Gwen’s soles. Her feet twitched and she gave him an odd look.

“Hobs, what are you doing?” she asked, about to move her feet. Hobie quickly caught her ankles and forced them to stay on his thigh.

“Y’know, Tabitha’s cake reminded me o’ somefin. De electric guitar look, yeah? Woulda been mor interestin’ if she used… noodles.” Hobie growled out that last word.

Gwen’s eyes bulged out of her skull as she tried to scramble away, acting like a cat just got thrown into a bathtub. Hobie cackled loudly and wrapped an arm around her ankles and pulled her close, scribbling all over her soles. Gwen barked out a surprise laugh and immediately covered her mouth to muffle her giggles. Her laughter was stifled, but her thrashing and kicking reminded Hobie of an American Rodeo Show.

“Damn, ‘s almos’ like you don’ wanna reap wha you sow! K-KArl! ‘Elp me out ‘ere! She’s a wild one!” Hobie called out as he laughed, nearly being thrown about. Their spidey strength competed against each other, Hobie’s grip versus Gwen’s power legs. Karl huffed a laugh and walked over with a sorry-not-sorry look on his face.

“Sorry, Gwendie.” He adopted Hobie’s nickname for her as he pushed her shoulders into the couch as he sat on her back, facing towards the tv. This earned a loud groan from the Spider-Woman at the weight and that quickly turned into hysterical laughter. Karl smirked and squeezed her side a few times. “You kinda deserve this. You’re lucky Miles was nice to buy him strings. But then again you’re super unlucky since he ratted you out. Now hush, I wanna see how Glendale’s triple chocolate cake turns out.”

Now, contrary to popular belief, this happens more often than one would think. Three punks (Gwen being honorary) tickling each other while they watch a baking show? It’s a pretty funny sight. So not many people would imagine this scenario, much less see it with their own two eyes.

Now that Hobie and Karl had Gwen stuck (hee hee spiderman joke), Hobie was able to properly get to work. He still had to watch himself as Gwen’s donkey kicks still proved dangerous. He scribbled and scratched all over her arches earning shrieks of protest from his friend.

“HOHOHOHOHOBIE!! KAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAARL!!! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Gwen screamed, swinging an arm back in an attempt to hit either one of them. Karl dodged just in time and caught her wrist, starting to poke at her armpit which caused her to giggle hysterically.

“You forget s’opposite day or somefin?” Hobie asked as he gave small squeezes under each of her toes. Gwen bucked back and almost nailed him in the nose.

“Youhuhuhuhuhuhu suck! Okahahahahay okay! Keheheheheheheep tihihihihickling mehehehehe you bahahahahastard!” Gwen said in ‘Opposite Day’ fashion. Hobie bore the most sinister grin a spiderman could pull.

“Keep ticklin’ yous? Alroight, if yous says so~” Hobie grabbed the back of her knees and started scribbling. Realizing she’d been betrayed, Gwen started doing everything in her power to escape. Although, her efforts went unnoticed between the two.

“HOBIE NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! N-NOHOHOHOHOHOHO FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR YOU- AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, she was so ticklish angry. Hobie and Karl chuckled.

“Gwendie, you are either extremely ticklish or way too over dramatic. I can’t tell which at dis point,” Hobie teased.

“You are evil, Hobs.” Karl stopped his poking assault and just held her wrist, making sure she wouldn’t accidentally break her arm.

“Am jus’ lookin’ for an apology, luv! C’mon, Gwendie~ Jus’ say ‘I’m sorry Hobie-’”

“IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORYYYYY! PLEASE LET GOHOHOHOHOHO!!!” Gwen screamed before Hobie could finish his sentence, tears of mirth falling from her eyes. With a laugh, Hobie removed his hands and nodded to Karl who stood up and patted her back. Gwen took in greedy, giggly breaths as she calmed down. Then, Hobie scoped her up in his arms and leaned against the arm of the couch, hugging her close.

“Your knees can’t be that sensitive, luv. You really are jus’ over dramatic, huh?” Hobie couldn’t resist teasing her one more time. Gwen huffed.

“You’re the wohorst. You too Karl,” she spat. Karl just laughed and brushed it off, knowing the venom in her words were halfhearted. Then, the man laid on top of her, making the three of them a huge cuddle pile.

“You luv us, luv. Oh shit Tabitha’s guitar cake is gettin’ judged. Stop bein' wholesome fuckwads, I need to see this,” Hobie shimmied upwards, still hugging Gwen, and the three punks all turned their heads back to the tv.

And Opposite Day was no more.

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderverse #ghost spider #atsv gwen #gwen stacy #atsp hobie #across the spiderverse tickle #atsp tickle #tickle fic #this one gotta be honest is not my favorite out the bunch #no hate I just feel like it could have been better but we gots what we got gang #capatin anarchy #karl morningdew #also I do not know everything about Karl so I went with the flow #if anyone realizes its not accurate then oh well i did what i could *shrug*

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rozyrne · 1 month

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𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐑 !

rivalries are put aside, and camaraderie takes their place. and for the golden deer, pulling neck and neck with the eagles and lions despite having the fewest contestants in the ring is all the reason to celebrate! or so rosado and hortensia thought. at the post-tournament grand banquet, the elusian pair have set up a golden deer corner, complete with yellow and cervid decor and drapery, and both hosts arrayed in house colors and face paint. "three cheers for knoll! three cheers for hilda! three cheers for eliwood!" "fear the deer!" a celebration lifting up the class heroes who'd carried them from underdog into the spotlight, and for all the deer who cleared the way valiantly to let them get there: —hip-hip hooray!

FOOD & DRINK:

— CUPCAKE DECORATING ╱ from yellow-sugar icing to pretzel antlers to cookie toppings shaped like deer, there's no shortage of supplies to make your cupcakes look any which way you want.

— CARAMEL MERINGUES ╱ a triple layer of chocolate and caramel in glass containers, tied off with a bit of string attached to a spoon. perfect to grab and take with you, or feed to a loved one.

— DOE POPS ╱ cake pops shaped like deer heads! and something sticking out of each one. a paper fortune? what does yours say?

— GOLDEN SPICE CIDER ╱ a warm and buzzy autumnal drink, perfect for the season and sure to banish any chills. both alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties available.

— CROUCHING CHOCOLATE, HIDDEN STAG ╱ a culinary minigame? a table is arranged with a terrarium-like miniature woodland display, complete with moss, trees, golden deer flags, and a herd of deer themselves. one item in this display is made of chocolate. how many things are you willing to bite to find which one it is?

ARTS & CRAFTS:

— THIRTY-POINT CROWN ╱ craft your own glorious headpiece with paint, twigs, and twine to show off your deer pride! who can boast the most impressive rack? ( of antlers, duh. what were you thinking? )

— WOOD CARVING ╱ for the dexterous and crafts-minded, a setup with display and instructions to carve your own wooden deer to take home. organizers are not responsible for injuries.

— DEERLY BELOVED ╱ a stack of deer-shaped paper and pens greet you. "write a compliment and stick it onto its recipient!" the instructions say. if you're fast, maybe they won't even know it's you.

— READY-TO-PAINT CERAMICS ╱ a station of unfired bowls and plates and small vases invites you to decorate them however you want! several stencils are provided for the uninitiated, or you can go where your hart takes you.

— DECORATE A FRIEND ╱ from washable paint to stick-on sequins, glitter bombs and pinnable deer tails. find a willing victim to array in deer spirit — or make one.

GAMES:

— FÓDLAN CHESS ╱ a traditional strategy board game using a triangle-shaped board that can be played by two to three people. the objective is to be the first to move all your pieces to one of the other corners by jumping over your opponents' pieces. are you up for the competition?

— LIMBO ╱ everyone knows that being a deer isn't just about strength or smarts, but flexibility. challenge mode: wear an antler crown while playing, and don't let it fall off your head!

— ANTLER TOSS ╱ you have five tries to land as many rings on the tines as you can for a prize. if a friend is willing, they can wear the antlers on their head for you to aim at instead!

— DEER PONG ╱ the classic party game, with alcoholic and non-alcoholic versions. some say that the non-alcoholic one misses the point of the challenge, but at least it lets everyone play, right?

— HEADLOCK ╱ in a classic show of strength, stamina, and bravado, it's time to wrestle like the stags do! put on a headdress of real oaken antlers ( not light, that ) and lock heads with your opponent to throw them to the ground! no use of other body parts or implements allowed.

GUIDELINES:

reblog this ask meme to indicate that your muse is participating! anyone who's reblogged the meme is automatically accepting asks, so no need to double-check. 　

please be mindful of not only waiting for interactions to come to you, but try to be proactive about sending to others too. it's not quite polite to always expect others to do the work! 　

muses from any house are welcome! it's a celebration meant for everyone. 　

this is still narratively part of BOEL, but to keep things separate from the BOEL tags, you may use the tag #GDPride2024 for related posts if you wish!

#GDPride2024 #a little smth smth for boel celebrations!#as stated anyone is welcome to come have fun not just deer folks :softsmile:#consider this as rosado's reblog for participation #tho he'll also be helping to run the stand kjslksg

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ilovechuuy4 · 6 months

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˙∘ "Ah, what a lovely cake, babe!~" ∘˙

✰Osamu Dazai X GN!Reader✰

A/N; quite literally nobody asked for a dazai x reader but I've noticed since I've made my master list I don't have just a dazai fic along with just a chuuya fic BUT there is A LOT of chuuya x reader in my drafts so those will come soon!! I'm pretty sure this is the longest fic I made

→ Description; you and dazai decided to bake cakes! A quite messy and laced one at that.

Warnings; alcohol use (sneaking alcohol in the cake) and drinking wine

➥ Headcanons ⏤͟͟͞͞✰

→ Dazai is the one to sneak alcoholic drinks in to the cake/pastries/sweets y'all make.

→ Dazai is the one to take the frosting, dip his finger into it and smear the frosting on your nose like Rodolfo's nose.

→ He will make a mess no matter what, it's always possible and you can't avoid it, ingredients everywhere

→ Dazai is a literal child, he wants to lick the cake batter spoon, he doesn't care if there is raw eggs or not

→ When the cake is baking he's going to be OVERLY annoying because he has no patience whatsoever

→ This man is the most stupidest yet silliest known to kind, when decorating (his own cake) he's going to make little penises or inappropriate drawings on it

→ “Decorate appropriately" yea no, it's like yelling a kid to sit still and be quiet

→ The cake decorating is a contest for him for sure, he's going to sabotage you the best he can without ruining your cake, taking your frosting colors, candies that you're using, etc.

→ Christmas gal all the way, Christmas carols/music/dances/outfits/movies whatever, he loves it

Scenario!! ᯓ٭꙳˙∘

It was the middle of the day on a cool November day, there was a fire crackling in the living room, dazai and yourself in the kitchen with ingredients to bake a cake. Y'all had decided to to be creative and work on y'all’s culinary skills sense dazai was off work for holidays 'nd bored.

Soft hums were coming out the slim man’s mouth, who had an apron tied tightly around his waist, a cheeky smile on his face, his hands resting on his hips. “Alright! Let’s get this show on the rode!” You heard the brunette say excitedly, it was silly seeing him so happy over something like baking but also lovely.

Before this, Dazai had a bit too much wine so he wasn’t exactly sober. You had already grabbed the wet ingredients for the cakes, and dazai had grabbed the dry, store bought, cake mixes, all lied out on the counter top.

“Sure, sure. Let’s go this show on the rode” You mock with a soft smile, pouring the boxed cake batter into the metal bowl. You then crack the three eggs, but in this cake 6, since there is being to cakes made with the two boxes of cake mix y'all bought.

You then turn away to get a measuring up and get 2 cups of water. You heard a snicker from the brunette as you did. You weren't sure why nor did you see him pouring Lord knows how much whiskey into the cake.

You turn back and pour the two cups of water in, and then ⅓ vegetable oil. "What were you snickers about over here?" You say while giggling as well. "Oh nothing, babe. Don't worry!~" Dazai said with a cheeky smile, you knew he was up to something and it was obvious.

Y'all had already preheated the oven prior to this, 'nd now y'all have to mix, pour into pans, and then wait until it's done, let cool and ice! You take the whisk and start sturing the cake ingredients, while doing so, Dazai was getting into the frosting like a child.

Dazai had opened the white frosting, dipping his CLEAN fingertip in as it gets coated with the white, creamy icing. He sticks out his tongue, licking off the icing. "You know, this is OVERLY sweet" The brunette says, his gaze averting from the icing container, his deep brown eyes were looking into your e/c eyes.

"Ah, well that's the only kind they had, and isn't icing supposed to be overly sweet?" You had said, cocking and eyebrow as you continue mixing the cake batter. "Mhm, I suppose." He simply says as he dips his finger back in. "Honey, baby, babe, look at me!" He ugered, he really wanted you to look, even for a second.

You look over once more but before you could speak, you see Dazai reaching his icing covered finger tip towards your nose and smearing the icing on it. "Haha! Now you're Rodolfo but with a white nose!" He says his hands going back to his hips as a proud smile washes on his face, you couldn't help but smile.

"Ha, okay you Christmas obsesser" you scoff, and Dazai being the overly dramatic man he is, he jaw drops as he slaps a hand to his mouth, gasping obnoxiously as he does so. "Obsesser?! I am not obsessed!" He says with the most sassiest look on his face, holding back his giggles that were slowly tearing through the look of sassiness. "Cmon! Everyone knows you're obsessed on the holidays, Osamu! It's so easy to tell!" You start to laugh as Dazai turns away scoffing playfully.

Dazai huffs and the speaks, "Maybe a little, obsessed." He admits while turning to the Amazon Alexa y'all had placed in the kitchen for reasons like these. (cooking together) He walks over to it and whispers something as he turns up the Echo Dot to its max volume and soon, the entire kitchen is filled with Christmas music, specifically, All I Want For Christmas is You, by Maria Carey. You couldn't help but surpres laughs and giggles as you see our lover dancing and singing to the music.

"All I want for Christmassss~ isssssss~ youuuuuu!!" Dazai "sings" loudly, it was such good material to record but you didn't have your phone so it was a bit disappointing you couldnt record. You softly hum along to the song as you pour the cake batter into the cake pans. "Oo! Ooo!! Give me the spoon! I want to lick the batter spoon!" Your lover's eyes are like stars as you hand him the batter spoon.

Dazai starts licking the soon as he watches you put the cakes in the hot oven. "How long will it take?" He asks, still licking the spoon clean. "About 20-30 minutes? It just depends on the size of the pan if I'm honest with you, Honey, but since it's two 9 rounds maybe 22-27 minutes?" This wasn't a wild guess, but more of a precise guess. "Ughh, that's so long!" Dazai complained, nothing new though.

"Oh calm down, you listen to your Maria Carey and lick your batter spoon and before you know it, they will be done" You scoff softly, this makes Dazai huff and cross his arms as he finishes off licking the spoon. "Fine! But I think I'll annoy you instead" He says, smiling as he hugs you tightly, his arms around your waist and holds you close.

This goes on for a bit, dazai was poking, kissing, biting doing whatever to try to annoy you, but at the end of the day he wasn't sober so, you were fine with it. And soon, the timer for the cakes went off, you grab the oven mit and put it on, taking the cakes out from the oven, placing them on the stove top. A few minutes go by, Dazai was back to the casually bugging until y'all were able to frost the cakes.

"Okay okay, the cakes are ready to frost, you get one I get one, okay?" Dazai hums in response, looking extremely excited as he takes his icing bag and starts to work on his cake, you take yours as well and work on your own. You were glancing back and forth between your cake and Dazais face, humming softly to the Christmas music playing in the kitchen. You use your a smaller frosting tip to do more fine line details in the very detailed cake while dazai, seems to be doing something more since he is chucking up a storm.

You were making you and Dazai holding hands and dazai, well who knows? Because you didn't. You continue frosting your cake making everything the best it could be. "Done!" Dazai blurts with a smile, still snickering happily. You glance over and down at Dazais cake were there is a HIGHLY detailed cock, not a chicken, a cock, as in the male reproduction organ. Why was it so detailed? You didn't know but you just snicker a bit as you continue to work on your own.

"It's very, er, detailed?" You say, holding back a fit of laughter. "Yep! Based it off my own!~" He seemed so confident that it was funny, you put a hand over your mouth holding back your fits of laughter "O,oh yeah, really?" You choke out, it was hard to contain your giggles and snorts as they just fall out as you start to have a unbearable fit of laughter, which made Dazai start laughing too. A bit of tears from the uncontrollable fit start to form in your eyes as you catch your breath.

"Ha, Okay I'm done I'm done" you let out a sigh of relief as you quickly finish up your cake. Dazai comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. "Ah, What a lovely cake, babe~" He said, smiling happily as he saw the very detailed cake of the two of you holding hands.

He plants a soft kiss on your neck, and then your jawline moving up to your lips. Capturing your lips in a slow and loving kiss, you could taste the sweetness of the frosting and cake batter from earlier as you kissed back slowly. Dazai pulls back, smiling, "I love you babe"

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rosze-v · 1 year

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sleepy birthdays

pairing: Kozume Kenma x Reader

synopsis: A 24 hour stream for Kenma’s birthday turn into a surprise for the world

tags: fluff, birthday celebrations, cute sleepy Kenma, NOT PROOF READ

w.c : 1.2k

a/n: Hello, this is for the collab from Camera, Lights, Action by @yeosatinyngz . I’m sorry for posting so late, I’ve been very busy and it took a toll on me. This is not my best work, but I hope you will like it. Thank you for reading.

You could hear Kenma’s voice from his gaming room, talking to the people in his stream chat. You giggled at how slurred his voice have become now that the birthday special stream is hitting the 20 hours mark. Tonight, is going to be his birthday, and so to celebrate it, Kenma decided to throw a special 24-hour stream. The stream blew up immediately since it has been quite some time since Kenma have such long streams, with him being a Youtuber, and a CEO has in fact, made him incredibly busy.

Time by time, you would sneak into his room to pass him some food and drinks, as well as some kisses when he have the camera turn off for awhile with an excuse of going to the bathroom. Some have speculated in the chat room that Kenma is going away to kiss his little partner, and you could only giggle at the claim because no one have known yet that Kenma is dating someone.

The reason for the hiding could be dated back to the first time you met him. You were a young, fast on their feet and witty intern that was accepted into Kenma’s PR Team. At first Kenma wasn’t really fond of you because of your crazy ideas on how to ‘improve’ his image. The ideas consist of Kenma doing challenges like ‘A Gamer trying Out the Army Training’ or the ‘Going up to People and have a Staring contest with Them’. Though eventually, some of your crazy ideas actually worked out, especially the time when a tabloid of him came out accusing him of getting close with Hinata just so he can have Hinata become his brand’s face.

Your solution was bizarre and completely something his PR Team wouldn’t thought of. Kenma remembered your determined face when you suddenly asked for his permission to use his old volleyball matches videos, and of course, since they don’t really have many options, Kenma agreed. For the first time in a while the office was quiet of your voices, as you secluded yourself in one of the private rooms.

Kenma won’t ever forget the look on your face when you came out of the private room at 1 in the morning, the brightest smile on your face and your laptop in hand. What you did was simple, you created a Tik Tok video of Kenma’s matches with Hinata and then you edited it in a way where it showcases their friendship looking as if its more than a friendship. The PR Team agreed on posting the video and who would have thought that your video would completely deflect the rumors and also increased the popularity of Kenma and Hinata.

Yet also creating another catastrophe of “Is Kenma the Youtuber and Hinata the Professional Volleyball Player dating?”. Despite it all, Kenma was thankful for your quick wit and your team also praised your efforts. From there, you were offered a permanent position in the PR Team which you, of course, accepted happily.

Then somehow, the relationship between you and Kenma starts budding. Kenma wouldn’t have thought he would fall for someone so loud and hyper yet here the both of you are, now sharing the same bed after being together for a year and a half.

You were in the kitchen getting his birthday cake ready for a little celebration between the both of you, when you noticed that the 24 hours stream is ending in a few minutes. Quickly, you place the cake on top of a tray that you have decorated. You checked the clock again and noticed that the stream is finishing as you picked up the tray and walk over to the gaming room.

“Thank you y’all for spending your time with me for 24 hours. It was fun but damn, I’m tired as shit bro. I’ll end the stream now, thanks for all the wishes again”. You were standing in front of the door, waiting for him to end the stream, and you noticed how dishevelled your boyfriend looks.

“The stream already ends right?”. You whispered as Kenma whipped his head towards you, staring at you blankly. When he realized the cake on the tray you’re holding, a smile slowly etches on his face as he put out his hand, gesturing for you to come to him. Slowly you walk over and places the tray on top of the desk while placing yourself on his lap. You took the cake in your hand and shows it to him with an excited look.

“Why is there a drawing of a cat on the cake?”. He asked as he slides his hand to your hips and pull you closer to him, making you lay your back to the side of his chest.

“Well because you look like one”. You said with a giggle as you held the cake up to him and lit the candle. You then looked up, your eyes meeting his as you give him a gentle smile and begun singing Happy Birthday.

“Happy Birthday to my love, Happy Birthday Kenma. Make a wish and then blow the candle”. You instruct as he closes his eyes for a bit and then blew the candle. He gives you a kiss to your cheek and whispered to your ear.

“Thank you, my baby,”. You nodded and took the spoon to feed him the cake when Kenma’s phone rings. Kenma groans as he picks it up and told you that it’s from Kuroo. Kenma was going to declined when you told him that maybe Kuroo wants to wish him Happy Birthday and its nice to pick it up. Kenma could only roll his eyes as he picked up.

“What do you want? You can just wish me tomo-”.

“Yo, you do realize the stream is still on, right?”. You gasped as your head and his turned towards the screen, and there, the blaring red light indicating that the camera is still rolling. Then the both of you noticed that the chat was going crazy and questions were popping up about the two of you.

“What do we do now?”. You whispered, a coldness washing over you as you search for his face. There was a blank look on him when he slowly looks at you, and give you a gentle smile. He squeezes your hips and pats your head, physically reassuring you. Suddenly, he places his hand on the desk and pulls the chair forward while adjusting the camera.

“Well, everyone, meet the love of my life”. He said as a blush covers your face and you wave shyly. The chat was going crazy, sentences came out so fast but you could read some.

OMG SHE’S SO PRETTY!!

Yo King Kenma have rizz

MOVE! She’s our girlfriend now!

WAIT YOU’RE NOT DATING HINATA?

You were expecting backlash, but thankfully, there were so many kind comments. Kenma then encourages you to speak to them while he eats his cake. You were having a blast replying to the questions from the stream when you heard a light snore behind you. You turned around and you were met with Kenma’s sleeping face as you kiss his forehead.

“Hey guys, I think we should go now. I’m gonna bring Kenma to bed. Thank you for all the nice words and thank you for always supporting Kenma. We love you!!”. The chat of course says their goodbyes and left so many kinds words. You then struggled a bit with turning off the stream and eventually managed to lead your boyfriend to the bed.

The next day,

KENMA THE YOUTUBER REVEALED HIS GIRLFRIEND ACCIDENTALLY!

#kozume kenma #kozume kenma x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #kenma fluff #haikyuu fluff #LCA! Collab #rsz.w

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